#anyway vent over sorry if anyone read all that

[lottieurl]

i'm well aware there are single parents out there working full time but i think working full time and living alone with my dog is about to put me in a psychward

[cherry-shipping]

hnnnnnnnnn. i shouldnt put any real weight on these thoughts because its late and i havent eaten so naturally im oversensitive and melodramatic. but my rsd has been SOOOOO bad lately on top of that im overanalyzing every single little fucking thing. so well anyways i just wish i could get reassurance from my f/os or something

[meatsouuuuup]

I’m gonna rage quit Duolingo

[twinkbugspray]

Brian.

Have you ever hated someone so much, that thinking of them, even the concept of them, sends you into a blind fury? I’m talking white hot. Tunnel vision. It’s a common saying, I think, that hate is very close to love, that the opposite of love is actually indifference. I loved you too much, so the hate in me runs just as deep, and it is festering indeed. I long for indifference, the sweet embrace of just…not caring, but it is difficult to let go of the embarrassment that you were to me. New information of your indiscretions comes to me every day, from well meaning friends, acquaintances. The thought that I ever believed in you is embarrassing. You’re disgusting, in every way. I want to be rid of you. Quit coming into my fucking bagel shop where I work and cannot leave. Remove yourself from my friend circles. I write this on a site you do not visit, as a person you do not care about, and I rest easy that you will never see it. I will never say these things to you in person or otherwise, for my peace of mind, because I never want to speak to you again. I could vomit at the thought. Hope your life sucks, worst wishes, etc etc.

CJ

[ohlovxr]

this past month on tumblr has consisted of me lurking around reading long din djarin fics and stalking my mutuals during study and chore breaks lolol

[aaagustd]

maid for you | min yoongi

title: maid for you

pairing: painter/vamp!yoongi x maid/vamp!(f)reader

genre/rating: smut, supernatural, 18+

summary: you can’t deny it; you’re f*cked. 

wc: 1.6k

warnings: mentions bl**d and m*rder, bl**d consumption, pet names, f*ngering, squ*rting, teasing, begging, swearing, errors maybe because i didn't look over this, let me know if i missed something

release date: march 10th, 2024; 12:09am est

note: so i was watching death’s game and got a little inspired lol. i’ve been trying to dabble in writing vampire fics so this might be a little cringe. anyway happy birthday to the loml. i’m still writing like 3 other fics for him this month, but until then… you all enjoy. divider by cafekitune.

my masterlist | join my taglist | read on ao3 | inbox

“Son of a bitch.”

You nearly slip and fall right on your ass when you enter the studio. Once again, he’s brought home some innocent sack of flesh and carved them into a masterpiece. 

The fear still lingers in the scent of the scarlet liquid smeared across the floor. You push your own impulses to the back of your mind as you begin to clean up Yoongi’s mess like the “loyal” servant you are.

Not like you have a choice; it’s either this—or death.

Unlike the other creatures who have survived for eons in this world, your thirst for human blood has never been fulfilled. Though it calls your name as you drag the heavy mop across the porcelain tile, you can’t imagine indulging when you’re surrounded by humans everyday outside of this place.

You still have to live the life of someone who isn’t a freak. You aren’t some legacy put here to extend bloodlines. You’re just the product of a drunken night between strangers whose life should have ended in your twenties.

You’re just the one who didn’t die.

Every second you spend in this room makes you want to leave and never come back, but you know it is impossible. You made a deal with the devil for your life; there is no backing out.

After an hour or so, the room is spotless again. 

As you’re cleaning the last section of the floor, you notice some of Yoongi’s artwork on the wall. Your face contorts into a grimace, knowing that there are people out there purchasing these. Somebody’s family member’s bodily fluids is splashed onto a canvas and is hanging on display in some billionaire’s home. It makes you angry knowing that it should have been you. 

“Fucking asshole… I’m not cleaning this shit up anymore—Oh!”

You bump into something hard while you’re walking backwards. Thinking you’ve hit a wall, you don’t expect to see anyone when you turn around. 

“Oh, you aren’t?”

Yoongi just stands there, watching you scramble for words.

“I-I didn’t know you were here. I…That was—”

“Save it,” he interrupts.

Once you are silenced, you lower your head. You feel a bit of shame burning in your cheeks, but it’s the least of your worries if he heard everything you’ve been saying while you thought you were alone.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to snap your neck if I felt like it.”

Shit. What the hell were you thinking? 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean any of that.”

“Don’t lie,” he snaps. 

He takes a step forward, and you take one back. You try to keep a safe distance between you as if you have a chance to escape. He’d catch you before you could leave the room.

“You’re an ungrateful little bitch, you know that?”

Unfortunately, you don’t know the room as well as you thought you did because your lower back hits a table, leaving you with nowhere else to go.

“I was just venting. Tell me you aren’t that old!”

He approaches you with his arms folded, leaving only a few inches to spare. 

“Baby, you won’t live to see this age,” he boasts. “You don’t even feed yourself properly.”

“Who cares?”

He dips his fingers in a tiny drop of blood next to his tools. You scold yourself for missing something in plain sight, but you have to admit that your mind has been a little fuzzy lately.

“I used to care… But since you don't, why should I?”

You turn away when he tries to touch you with his crimson painted fingertip. The smell makes your nostrils flare, but you continue to fight the temptation. When you don’t accept his bloody digit, he places it on his tongue and savors the salty liquid coating his skin.

“Fuck you.”

“Point proven,” he concludes.

You still won’t look at him, but that doesn’t stop Yoongi from staring directly at you, observing reactions. “If you hate it so bad, why don’t you just end it?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

The couple of inches that stood between you are now gone as he steps closer. He’s so close that you’re afraid he’ll hear your thoughts if you aren’t careful. 

“What are you afraid of?... Going to hell?”

You scoff. “This is hell.”

Suddenly, he grabs your face, forcing you to look into his dark orbs. You remember them being just as hypnotizing when you met him; if only you’d known them what you know now. You would have ran in the opposite direction.

“But you love it here. Don’t you?”

You aren’t sure if your body craves his attention, or if you’re just desperate to feel something—anything to feel the emptiness inside of you.

“I do,” you utter. “Why can’t I hate you?”

Yoongi leans in, his soft lips gently grazing yours to see if you’ll flinch. You don’t move an inch, and his smirk begins to spread across his face.

“Because you want me just as bad as I want you.”

You’re still within his grasp, but too drunk with what seems like lust to pull away. You don’t want to. Every part of you wants to be his; only he understands the type of hunger you’re experiencing.

He’s the only one who’s capable of satisfying your appetite. 

“All you have to do is admit it.”

His cold touch makes you weak in your knees. You have to grip his biceps when you suddenly lose your balance, and with quickness he releases his hold and wraps an arm around your waist.

“I’m waiting,” he reminds you, and you don’t hesitate to give him your response.

“Please, just touch me.”

When you kiss him, he’s the one who melts in your arms. You hold him tightly as both of you stand there kissing and tugging at each other’s clothes. Your lips smack as they crash together, causing a sound that resonates through the room. 

You feel Yoongi’s cold hand move underneath your dress, slowly making its way to your underwear. A moan escapes your swollen lips when he finds your center, exposing your eagerness to feel him inside of you.

“Damn,” he whispers, discovering that you’re already dripping. 

His fingers tease your entrance, making you squirm with need. You beg him for more, and he doesn’t deny you.

“Please.”

“I got you,” he assures.

Your body shudders as two of his digits slip into your pussy. You can barely hold yourself because the intrusion is so overwhelming.

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

His thumb caresses your throbbing clit, causing more of your wetness to drip down your thighs. Your hips move in a circular motion, silently begging Yoongi for more.

It is then that he slowly begins to fuck you with his fingers, burying them up to the knuckles in your heat. You grip the table as he speeds up, knowing it won’t take much to get you off. 

Yoongi attacks your neck with his fangs; biting gently into your flesh and moaning from the taste of you.

“Feels so good,” you pant into his ear.

He curves his fingers while they’re deep inside your core, and targets your most sensitive areas. The pads of his digits rub against the rough patch of your walls with precision, and within seconds your juices are gushing everywhere.

“Shit, I’m going to cum…”

You cry out in pleasure, holding onto Yoongi with all your might as your body trembles and shakes. 

Yoongi keeps going, admiring the waterfall flowing from underneath your dress. Your eyes roll back, drool forming at the corners of your lips as you babble and whine from sensitivity. 

“Look who’s making a mess now,” Yoongi teases.

You can’t even feel embarrassed because your body is still coming down from its peak. You’re weak, too spent to defend yourself. You aren’t even sure what you’d say. What could you say?

There’s a puddle where you stand.

When Yoongi finally removes his fingers, he leaves you empty and still wanting more. Your head rests on his chest as you regain your strength.

“I didn’t kill you, did I?”

You laugh. “No.”

After the high wears off, you’re left drowning in your thoughts. They’re all over the place, but you’re certain about one thing. You’re far from satisfied, but you aren’t sure what it is that you want.

“I guess you’re leaving now,” Yoongi says, breaking the silence.

You clear your throat, thinking before you speak so your answer isn’t driven by lust. You know once you step into this world, there’s no going back. The only question on your mind is, what’s really waiting for you outside of here?

“I don’t have to.”

“Hm, is that right?”

Yoongi pulls away so he can look into your restless eyes. He can probably see the internal war going on inside of you from where he stands. You’re long past what’s right and what’s wrong. It makes no sense to keep denying the truth when it’s right in your face.

“This is driving me crazy.”

“Oh, really?” he quizzes. “...Or maybe you can’t get enough of me now?”

“A little bit of both, honestly.”

“I just don’t want you to think you don’t have any options.”

You nod. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

“Are you?”

“A little, but I’m still curious,” you answer truthfully. “What’s the worst that can happen? You turn me into a painting?”

“I might.”

You smirk. “That’s hot.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart. We should go for a ride.”

“I’d like that.”

The look he gives you could undress a nun. Hell, you struggle to keep your panties on after he winks. You smile as he kisses your forehead and your cheek before he whispers in your ear.

“Good. Now clean up my fucking floor, and meet me downstairs.”

[strongheartneteyam]

Realize where you belong.

Chapter 9

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!dreamwalker!reader/female!human!reader

CW: wholesome fluff, a good amount of angst, lo'ak being nosy lol jk he's genuinely trying to look after neteyam, descriptions of masturbation, TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of depressive symptoms, reader meeting neteyam in her avatar body, neteyam and reader vent to each other about their struggles, sensitive themes, hurt/comfort, cuddling, sexual tension, kissing, sexual content, mentions of sexual fluids, neteyam slightly begging to mate with reader, foreplay (i don't know if it counts but it definitely is teasing in a sexual way). Tell me if I missed something ♡

Hello, my cute little readers! I got a little better in terms of my fibro flare up and have been feeling a little better emotionally/mentally these days, so, I was able to write again. There's a slight chance that some paragraphs are a bit confusing. I didn't fully proofread it. I'm sorry, my babies, I'm really tired right now, really achy, still. And I'm extremely hungry and there's some delicious homemade orange cake in front of me waiting to be eaten 😍 I've already eaten two pieces of it and drank a full cup of coffee with milk but I NEED to eat more bc I'm still starving and I love cake and coffee 🤤 idk about other countries but it's a tradition that we have here in Brazil to eat cake and drink coffee, together 🤍 anyways I gotta shut up now lol Hope you enjoy this chapter! I'd love to read your lovely comments down below 👉🏻👈🏻 I love y'all SO MUUUCH 😘 

Slightly proofread.

Chapter 8

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

No way out of your quicksand

But I can breathe underneath

Take your love, cover me

Pull me down, pull me down

You are wonderful

You've taken all of my heart

It was so worth the fall

Don't let go

Quicksand (Bridgit Mendler)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Today you felt anxious but excited. It was your first day off in a week. You were gonna Dreamwalk in your Avatar today. But you were not gonna be on a solo mission this time. Neteyam would be by your side. You two had planned to meet each other next to the river you always loved to play in. You had always loved running water.

Having Neteyam around felt like a breath of fresh air to you since you never truly felt at home amidst other human beings and, after so many years, it started to feel like a joke to you to insist on trying to fit into a society that seemed to not even want you there, in the first place. Most people behaved towards you like you were weird in some way. Neteyam never made you feel that way. You did not know if it was in view of the fact that he was na'vi or if it was just because he was in love with you.

You had always preferred to live among plants, insects, songs, books, animals… on your own little world, since you were a little girl. Everybody used to call you a daydreamer, saying you had your head on the clouds. When you were a child, you did not let that get under your skin. That's the beauty of childhood wonder, it has a lot of wisdom in it that we seem to forget, once we start growing up. Your little self never cared about those "demonstrations of care and concern" (that were nothing but condescending criticism and you never understood why people tried to conceal that fact if it was so obvious) because you knew you were not crazy or completely oblivious to reality like they used to say. Your fun and whimsical inner world was what felt like home to you, not the everyday mundane routine, the protocols that seemed ridiculously stupid to you, the shallow conversations and gossip… the over-all human society. It fucking sucked, if you were going to be totally honest. 

It's not that you hated your own kind. No. It's just that you hated the way they built their empires, throughout history, the tainted legacy the ancestors left for the ones to come in the future - like a dying Planet, for example -, because of their own stupidity and recklessness.

You knew you were not harming anyone - yourself included - despite always engaging in daydreaming, all alone, with your earbuds on or just staring at a beautiful landscape and your grip on reality was still in check. Your grip on reality was actually so tight, your fingers would get hurt and start to bleed sometimes, because reality is a double bladed sword. It keeps you safe and stable, it is needed for you to not go bonkers, but it also cuts you deep with its sharp edges.

༊⁀➷

Neteyam prepared to go out today to meet you during the day for the first time after the both of you became mates. It was just like Eywa had blessed him as he was able to finish all his duties to the clan and his training a little earlier than the usual today. Or maybe the Great Mother had nothing to do with it and it was all Neteyam making the greatest effort ever just to be able to spend some time with you in the daylight and finally see you in your na'vi body again. He missed seeing you like that. He missed the way your tail would wag softly showing you were feeling happy, he missed looking at your stripes and thinking they were the most beautiful stripes he had ever seen and most of all, he missed admiring the way you loved his planet, the way you respected and appreciated Eywa instead of hurting her.

When Neteyam was taking his bow and arrows and putting them on his back, ready to go into the woods to meet you, Lo'ak approached him, suspicious.

"Where are you going, bro?"

"To the forest. Maybe I can hunt for some food and if I'm lucky I'll bring us some good meat for dinner." Neteyam smiled and gave his younger brother a head pat, rapidly walking out of the Sully's hut door

Lo'ak wanted to yell something to his older brother, something like "I know there's something you're not telling me" but he did not. If Neteyam was hiding something, it would probably not be something that would harm him - Neteyam. Everybody knew how responsible - to the point of being annoying, sometimes - Neteyam was. Lo'ak used to get Neteyam into trouble all the time back when they were just teenagers and he was trying not to do that as much as he used to, even though he was not exactly doing a great job - he was doing a terrible job, actually - but he was still trying. He would still keep an eye on his older brother - "It seems like the tables have turned, huh?" Lo'ak thought - but he would leave him alone to do whatever he was going to do in the forest. He knew Neteyam did not have much free time for himself and he sometimes felt sorry for him, seeing him so tired and even stressed out really often because of his Olo'eyktan to be training and his responsibilities as the older brother. Lo'ak used to hold some grudges on his older brother when he was younger but now he understood that Neteyam actually struggled a lot too.

Neteyam pretended to not notice anything when he was leaving home but he did not fail to see the mistrust on Lo'ak's face. That was something he would have to deal with sooner than he wanted to, he acknowledged. He also thought about how his mother would react when she eventually finds out that her son, the future Olo'eyktan of their tribe, was in a relationship with a human girl. Neteyam did not want to disappoint his mother. He knew how proud she was of him and it hurt to think that she could start to think badly of him. He tried his hardest to whoosh those thoughts away.

༊⁀➷

The Pandoran sun shone bright up in the sky, its rays reflecting on your bioluminescent freckles, making them a little more evident on your skin. The soothing sound of the leaves dancing with the pleasant wind and the water running in the nearby river filled the atmosphere around you. You walked slowly towards Neteyam, adrenaline dancing around in your belly in a bittersweet motion.

When Neteyam looked at you, it was like lightning had struck him. Not a destructive kind of lightning but a good one, sweet in its intensity, falling strongly all over him. Neteyam was seeing you in your Avatar for the first time after you had become his mate.

Your mouth was somewhat open, revealing your upper teeth and your na'vi (Avatar?) fangs. Your gaze revealed how much you had anticipated that moment, how much you stayed up when you should be sleeping, thinking about finally being able to see the look in Neteyam's face when he saw you in your Avatar. You knew he had watched you while you were Dreamwalking too many times before but you never got to see the admiration in his eyes when he did so as he had been stalking you, not letting you know he was around. You had wished to see his beautiful golden eyes captivated by you for so long. You wanted to feel pretty and desired like that. And now you were finally experiencing it as Neteyam looked almost dumb with enchantment while he stared at you. But cute dumb, you know? So damn cute…

You stared back at him as you took the last steps towards the place where he stood, as if he was frozen.

Neteyam felt like he was not able to move as he took in how beautiful you looked. He had never seen your na'vi body so close to his own body and it felt overwhelmingly good to do so. His sweet yawne finally belonged to him and he could now touch you and hold you in the physical form he found you most beautiful in. It's not like he did not think you were madly beautiful and hot in your human body, he always wanted to pin you down and make love to you while he was close to your human form, but nothing compared to seeing you in your na'vi form, the form where you smiled the most, where you seemed so much more alive and full of lust for experiencing the world around you. That made you even prettier. Happiness looked pretty on you.

Neteyam was na'vi and his people did not have as many severe mental struggles like humans did but there were rare cases where some na'vi who went through terrible trauma in their lives did become uninterested in fighting their dark thoughts and they did become extremely depressed, though they could be cured from that illness through rituals that healed the spirit, performed by their clan's Tsahìk.

Neteyam was not blind or oblivious to things that were obvious to the naked eye. He knew that nobody would break down and cry as often as you did, only minutes after waking up in the morning, while getting ready for work etc if this person was not in an enormous amount of pain, the kind of pain that made them wish to disappear and never be found again. Thinking about his mate feeling that kind of sorrow made him feel like his heart was being torn into pieces, blood spilling from it like water spills from a fountain.

The reason why Neteyam was so determined to convince you to transfer your consciousness to your na'vi body forever was not some selfish wish, it was not just because he wanted to take you to his tribe and have you be his mate, be able to bond with you through tsaheylu every night and get to love your body, sharing his affection and sexual pleasure with you as well as feeling your own through the bond - even though that thought did wake up a raw, intense desire and need inside of him and he just could not stop himself from fantasizing about that while stroking his cock when he could be all by himself without any chance of disturbance. Neteyam also wanted to give you the opportunity to live a blissful and fulfilling life, a life where you would laugh way more often than cry. If he knew someone that deserved nothing less than that, that person was you.

If in the worst case scenario, you still felt so bad after you had your consciousness transferred to your na'vi body, Neteyam planned to ask his mother to perform a ritual that heals the spirit on you. Thinking about that, he suddenly felt anxious and he felt his heart tightening inside his chest. Neteyam had been trying not to worry about the fact that it would be extremely hard to convince his mother to accept you as his mate and perform the ritual of transference of consciousness on you but that thought had been eating him alive constantly, ever since he talked to you for the first time, outside of the laboratory’s kitchen window.

"Hi, muntxatan." (male mate) Neteyam's heart started beating quickly and it almost came out of his throat when he heard you calling him your mate in his people's language as you stopped in front of him and smiled widely, your eyes narrowing slightly. Those torturing thoughts about his mother trying to tear the both of you apart quickly were washed away from his mind by your presence. It was hypnotizing to him.

"Yawntu… You're just so beautiful. So insanely beautiful." Neteyam smiled, his eyes shining, still bewitched by you, and pushed you roughly against his body. He hugged you tighter than he ever did before since he knew he wouldn't hurt you by doing so when you're Dreamwalking. The size difference between the both of you was not that substantial anymore. His chin rested on the top of your head as he held you strongly against his body.

His roughness did not hurt you, on the contrary, it made you feel safe and protected to have his big - currently not huge, just big - arms around you, keeping your body close as your head was against his chest, your eyes shut and you could hear his heart beating fast. It made you indescribably happy to know that you were the reason for that quick heartbeat. You curled your lips up, smiling peacefully.

Peace. You spent so much time without feeling that but, after you accepted becoming Neteyam's mate, finally defeating your cruel fears, you started to feel peaceful way more often than you had ever felt in your life, even more often than you did when you were little.

Neteyam distanced your bodies a bit, still putting his hands on the sides of your arms, right below your shoulders and announced:

"Come! There's a place I wanna take you to." He took your hand and started walking in front of you, excitedly leading you somewhere 

"Where are you taking me?" You smiled and chuckled softly, curious

"You'll see." It was all he said

Neteyam made you feel excited about little things, like you were just a child again, a feeling you hadn't felt in so, so long. After Neteyam came to your life, it was like he painted vivid colors on your once all too white and dull canvas. You almost shivered at the reminder that you nearly ruined your chance to have a love so pure and true such as this one because of fear of the unknown and refusal of getting out of your comfort zone.

After walking through the rainforest with you for a little while, Neteyam stopped in front of a tall, large tree and you soon recognized it. Its branches had clusters that were full of some beautiful fruits that reminded you of blueberries that used to exist on Earth, before they went extinct.

"Here. Do you recognize this tree? I've seen you look at it so many times. Were you wondering if the yovo fruits are safe to eat?"

"Yeah." You smiled bashfully "They look delicious."

"And they are. They're safe to eat, yawne. We can eat some now, if you want to." Neteyam smiled kindly at you. The fact that he remembered small details about you made your heart melt. 

"I'd love that, Teyam."

Neteyam smiled, unbelieving.

"What did you call me?"

"Teyam…?" You furrowed your eyebrows "It's just a nickname I came up with for you… Do you hate it?" You contorted your features in a way that showed him you were feeling slightly insecure and embarrassed 

"No! I love it, yawntutsyìp! I love it." He smiled and chuckled "I just wasn't expecting it. I love that my muntxate is calling me by a special nickname. Feels intimate." Neteyam came closer to you and held your face with both his beautiful strong blue hands

You looked up at his face with doe eyes and waited as you knew what was coming. You could feel it. The sneaky butterflies started flying inside your belly again.

Neteyam kissed you slowly, crushing his soft wet lips against yours. He pressed his lips on your mouth again and again for a short amount of time but it was enough to make your legs feel weak.

"Come, oeyä muntxate. I'll help you climb the tree."

Neteyam did as he said and soon enough you both were sitting on the wooden "floor" of the tree, sharing yovo fruits and eating them.

You two started to chill and talk about everyday life. It felt so good. It felt familiar, just like any relationship you had had before with a human guy, but better. So much better. Your alien boyfriend - mate? It felt so weird to say it like that… - made you feel things that none of your ex human boyfriends could ever dream to do. Neteyam made you feel understood. He did not judge you. He made you feel at home. Neteyam was becoming home for you.

You started to tell him how sad and done with everything you sometimes felt. Well, not sometimes… It happened all the time, even though it got better now that Neteyam was in your life. But you did not want to make him worry about you.

"You know, sometimes I feel like that too."

"What do you mean?" You questioned

"Like there's so much chaos inside that I just wanna talk to someone and vent. But I'm always so busy. There never seems to be time to find someone to do that with."

You were slightly surprised. 

"Yeah, me too. Always too busy." You sighed "And exhausted, to be honest. Both physically and mentally."

"Well, I do have way more stamina than humans do" You laughed at Neteyam's teasing "But some nights I come home from training and after taking care of my siblings, really, really tired too. And I don't mean only physically."

"We have some stuff in common, don't we?" You pointed out, smiling

"We certainly do." He smiled back

You felt good knowing that.

Neteyam laid on the floor, right by your side.

"I'm full" He let out a laugh that sounded lovely in your ears while stroking his stomach.

"Me too." You laid on the floor too, just like Neteyam had just done. Your belly felt pleasantly filled up "But these fruits are so good I'd still eat a dozen of them." You playfully said, laughing

"Do you want more? I can get you some more." Neteyam gently offered

"No, it's okay, Teyam. I'm good for now." You smiled at him

Neteyam smiled back, showing no teeth, a soft, enamored look in his feline amber eyes.

You two spent some time together in comfortable silence.

"Oeyä muntxate?"

"Yeah?" You looked at him and let out a relaxed sigh, smiling softly

"Oel ngati kameie." He said, with vulnerable sincerity in his eyes

It seemed like he was gazing inside your very soul. Like his golden eyes could see something in you nobody else could. Like he saw who you truly were. Like Neteyam saw the good and bad and the ugly and the greatness and the doubts and the fears and the uniqueness and the ordinary parts of you, like he saw all of you, and it did not scare him off to see your dark side. You could feel he was staying for both your virtues and your vices. And maybe that's what "Oel ngati kameie" meant, when said to the one you're choosing to be your mate. Means connecting to someone in a raw, deep way, a way that nobody else is able to. A way that allows you to see the other person's flaws but not be afraid of them and try to find a way out. A way that allows you to see the grace in every little detail that that other soul has, to see the beauty in them that they themselves could never see.

"Oel ngati kameie…" You finally said, smiling, still not believing he had said those words to you

Neteyam smiled brightly while gazing into your eyes. He always looked deep inside your eyes… It felt almost too much but it still had just the right amount of intensity for it to be deliciously alluring instead of overwhelming.

Neteyam took your hand and intertwined your fingers on his. You felt the touch of his warm hand burning your skin in a pleasant way. After a few seconds, he kissed the back of your hand tenderly. You kept staring at both your hands glued together for a while.

"I wanna cuddle with you, oeyä muntxate." His voice brought your attention back to his face.

You could hear nervousness and need in his tone.

"Sure, yawne."

You were starting to really like calling Neteyam by na'vi pet names. The na'vi language was incredibly pleasing to the ears, in your opinion.

Neteyam started moving your body carefully, so you could lay on your side and when you obeyed, laying in said position, he himself laid on his side and pulled you in, making your body be as close to his as he could, your ass against his clothed member. 

Your lungs started to do a poor job at helping you breathe now that the both of you were so close. You got nervous as you two had, yes, cuddled before, when you were in your human body, but he was never behind you like that, his body glued to yours. You knew he could feel your ass on his cock. Your heart was beating at the speed of light.

It did not take long for you to start to feel Neteyam was now fully erect, his cock pressed against your ass. You felt the inner walls of your pussy start to twitch and you got all wet, your juices spreading over your panties. Neteyam was so big and thick and your body responded like crazy to him.

It was a violent, invincible desire that made Neteyam cling so much to you, all the time. It would burn his insides, making him yearn for you, for your touch, for your warmth. There was no rational explanation inside his head for it. Neteyam could not understand it, he could only feel it covering all his being, exuding from his eyes whenever he looked at you, touched you, kissed you… He knew you could tell how much he was thirsty for you almost all the time. But Neteyam did not care about being so vulnerable. He wanted you to know what you did to him. Maybe like that you would surrender sooner and give yourself to him completely already. He felt so impatient. Everyday it was getting harder and harder for him to not take you in his arms and mate with you. This wait was killing him, day by day. It was like a slow and agonizing death. And now that he could smell your sweet juices so vividly, he felt like he could no longer hold back.

Neteyam pushed you even closer to him. You whimpered softly, the feeling of his huge, girthy cock pressed against your butt was divine.

Neteyam got you crazily wet just so quickly that it never failed to surprise you. He was like quicksand to you; you could try and run as much as you wanted but you would always end up being swallowed by his love.

"I need you so much, muntxate…" He cried out softly in your ear while rubbing his hard cock on your ass. "You're all wet for me. You smell so good, it's intoxicating." He sniffed the air, savoring your natural scent just like it was the most mouthwatering thing he had ever felt filling his sensitive nostrils "Please, lemme make you mine completely, my sweet yawne. Please…"

༊⁀➷

Taglist:

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[seraphicalsuccubus]

I just wanna make a post because I’ve gotten tons of worried asks about my absence and wishing I’m okay and everything (and I will answer them I promise, I do really appreciate y’all checking in on me). but this is going to be a LONG post so if you’re actually gonna read it, strap in babes.

anyways, my life has virtually become a dystopian hell and I’m not kidding you. I feel like a prisoner in my own home. I feel like I’m under house arrest because I’m just not allowed to do fucking anything anymore. I pretty much cannot leave my house, not even to get groceries. I cannot ask my roommate to pick up anything for me on her way home from work because she bitches about it and makes some excuse not to even if it’s something I desperately need. I haven’t had a single human interaction with ANYONE even my former best friend/roommate since the end of January until this week when I just fucking lost it and vented to my aunt and had her get me a dispensary order because I can’t leave my house to get one myself anymore and she came to hang out and spend some time with me and talk about everything for a couple hours. and that’s the bare bones of what’s going on. there’s so much fucking more piled to it but I’ll just give you the gist of it. I literally told my therapist that if I didn’t get the fuck out of here soon, I will probably slit my wrists and bleed out in the bathtub. like if I cannot run away and escape all this shit, I will be leaving this house in a body bag because I honestly just do not know how much more of this shit I can take.

I have been so unbelievably stressed. I have picked every tiny cut, scratch, ingrown hair, pimple, everything that could be picked open, into huge gaping wounds all over my legs and specifically, I had two tiny cat scratches on my stomach from one of my cats kneading on me and not being too gentle with her claws, and i picked those TINY cuts into gaping wounds bigger than the size of dollar coins. two of them. right next to each other. they were so bad that I thought they were legitimately going to get infected and cause me problems. but they’re finally healing and starting to scar because I HAD to bandage them. like if I did not bandage them and change the bandage twice a day, they would have become infected and been a huge problem. that’s how bad those two specifically were.

not only this, but I have also PICKED A FUCKING BALD SPOT ON MY SCALP near my widow’s peak, but thankfully it’s on the side my hair flops over from so it’s covered. but it’s still there and it makes me horribly insecure and I don’t know if it’s like a scab that’ll eventually fall off and something will grow back from it or if it’s a scar and I’ll have this bald spot forever to be insecure of and self conscious of all the time. literally only time will give me the answer to that. but I am fucking 26 years old and have picked myself to PIECES and BALD SPOTS due to stress. I am literally falling the fuck apart.

and not only that, but I was just informed that I need to be conscious and aware of the fact that I may have fucking lupus because two of my dad’s sisters have it (one confirmed diagnosis and the other a suspicion but that’s enough of a reason for me to be worried about it) and I’m too terrified to get tested or whatever to start the process of getting that diagnosis. like the one thing I’ve always been so fucking afraid of is having an autoimmune disease and my fear of that may have fucking manifested one fucking for me and I’m really struggling with the potential that I may have to deal with that, along with my other health issues and mental health issues and shit.

I just. I have been going through a REALLY rough fucking time. and I am sorry, I am so sorry for the lack of posts or explanations or not answering anyone’s asks or messages aside from the two people I talk to daily because I just mentally cannot handle conversations through all this shit, and for making anyone genuinely concerned about me because of my absence and shit. I wish I could say you shouldn’t worry, but honestly, I’m incredibly worried about myself and that reason alone should scare anyone that knows me because I’m NEVER worried about myself. I’m sorry. I wish I could say I’m okay and I’m thriving and my lack of presence on here was a GOOD thing because I’m doing well and not thinking about social media, but it’s not. it’s a very bad thing. I don’t leave my bed every day unless it’s to take care of my cats. I can’t remember the last day I actually ate a meal or even a snack. the only hydration I get is like the 3 sips of whatever I use to take my meds every morning and night. I have no drive to create content so my income has dropped SO dramatically that I am barely scraping by to pay my bills. I haven’t gamed. I haven’t caught up on any of the shows I was excited for and watching before all this. I haven’t done laundry in god only knows how long and I’m literally running out of clean clothes to wear. I literally only brush my hair before I get on FaceTime with a friend or my boyfriend, otherwise it’s a knotted mess. I’ve showered to clean my body because I feel disgusting being dirty but I have not washed my hair since I had these extensions installed. I do not have the energy to wash this much fucking hair right now. and do you know when these were installed? February 12th. I have not washed my fucking hair in over a month and I feel so fucking repulsive because of it. my hair is my pride and joy. I have such expensive quality products for it. I take care of it. I love my hair. and I cannot even find the energy to wash it when I’m already in the shower just to wash my body/face because I just am so depressed that I can’t even find the energy to do it WHILE ALREADY IN THE SHOWER. I usually go 7-10 days without washing my hair to prolong the life of my extensions and my hair dye and shit because my hair doesn’t get greasy quickly or dry so I can push it that long and just do like body wash/skincare showers in between. but it’s been over a month. over a FUCKING MONTH. since I’ve been able to find the energy to just wash my fucking hair even when I’m already in the shower. do you know how pathetic that feels?

I’m sorry this was such a heavy post. for anyone that actually read through it, I’m sorry. I’ve been internalizing a lot of this shit and this isn’t even the icing on the fucking cake. this is the bare minimum of what I’m dealing with. it’s so much more convoluted and fucked up and abusive than I’m explaining on here and I’m sorry for venting about the things that I did. but I’ll leave it there. I won’t get into the rest.

if you read this far, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time with this long of a post just to get shit off my chest. I hope you’re having a really good day, or that your day gets better, your weekend goes well, and that you have some good karma headed your way. I wish you all the best. thank you for listening. I appreciate it. 🖤

[marleyybluu]

Could you write something with Rio x reader? Where reader is Marcus’ nanny and Rio starts falling in love with her. 💙

The Nanny

Rio x fem!reader

wc: 1.4k

Mick helped Rio with a lot of things, but he'd never been more grateful for his services until he recommended Yn for a nanny.

Rio was a single father with an empire to maintain, it was hard being out for most of the day and coming home to a house that was, not disgusting but definitely not as clean as it should be. He was tired whenever he got home and whatever energy he did have left went to his son Marcus. Playing with him, taking him to soccer practice after school, helping him get ready for bed, and reading him stories before he slept. By the time all that was done, he himself would be knocked out in bed or on the couch.

One day, just venting about how everything was going Mick brought up Yn, she used to watch Mick's children as well and she was amazing at her job, the house was always spotless, the food she cooked was phenomenal, not to mention she was great with the kids and helping them in any way they needed. She slowly became a part of their family so much so that they still constantly kept in touch.

Rio wasn't too keen on anyone other than family watching Marcus, but at this point, he was willing to take all the help he could get and so he got her number from his partner and dialled her up explaining the positive things that Mick had told him.

The call couldn't have come at a better time because Yn was in between shitty jobs that she didn't enjoy. She agreed to meet with him at a park not too far from his place, he let Marcus run around while still keeping a watchful eye on him until someone entered his atmosphere, the softest voice saying, "Hi, sorry, are you Rio?"

He was immediately struck by her beauty, he didn't know who he was expecting but it definitely wasn't her. He almost didn't want to bother with an interview, wanted to tell her she was hired on the spot. He proceeded with it anyway but it didn't feel like a regular one, yeah he asked her how many families she worked for, and what interests her about childcare but that was about it. They spent that afternoon just talking about any and everything.

Rio was smitten by her smile, her laughter was infectious. She did a cute little head tilt whenever she laughed which he was sure she was unaware of. He hired her right then and there.

That's when things started to get a little too involved on his side. He was in his feelings over her, it all happened so quickly. The relationship that Yn had built with Marcus was such a sweet thing to watch unravel, he loved watching him get excited to see her walk through that door, the way the two of them would be in the kitchen dicing it up whenever he got home— he had forgotten what it was like to have another person around but he was enjoying this.

"Can I eat the batter?" Rio heard Marcus ask excitedly, he chuckled shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up in the closet, he slid off his shoes dumping them right under his jacket before closing the closet door. He shuffled over to the kitchen catching Yn handing over a spoon with some batter on it to Marcus who eagerly took it and got to work.

Rio asked. "What's going on here? Sweets before bed?" Marcus froze and so did Yn. Marcus whispers. "Maybe if we don't move he won't see us." His dad approached him, dipping his finger in the batter and plopping it on his child's nose. Marcus giggled hugging his dad. "How was your day kiddo?"

"Awesome. Practice got cancelled, so Yn took me to an arcade that she said she used to go to and then we went to get ice cream-"

"You didn't have work to do?" Rio questioned, he knew that Yn had a soft spot for Marcus and it was hard for her to tell him no sometimes. "Yeah, I did it when I came home."

Yn bent her lips in to hide her smile when Rio looked at her with raised eyebrows, she nodded confirming he did finish his work. "Aight. When you're done go get ready for bed. I'll be up in a minute."

Marcus turned to Yn. "Are you coming too?"

She shook her head. "Sorry honey, I have to go home soon." He pouted turning back to his father. "Why can't Yn love with us?"

The question threw the both of them off guard. Rio rubbed the back of his neck letting out a nervous laugh. "I mean, she has her own house and her own space papito."

He hung his head. "I know, but it'd just be more fun."

Yn blushed. "Well, maybe one day I'll spend the night... uh, if that's okay with your dad." Marcus grinned looking up at Rio. He wouldn't refuse that opportunity himself. He nodded his head over to the steps, a silent message for him to get his butt upstairs like he instructed the first time. The young boy sighed and licked off the last of the batter off before dumping the spoon in the sink. "Good night Yn." He said hugging her leg, she bent down pressing a kiss on his head.

"Good night sweets, I'll see you tomorrow."

With the two finally alone, Rio leaned against the counter, eyes dragging down her body as she finished the final touches on the cupcakes they just poured out. "You need help with anything?" Asked Rio. Yn shook her head. "Im just gonna put this in the oven, wash the dishes and be out of your hair."

"You always say that like I don't want you here."

Yn tugged on her bottom lip. "Sorry,"

"It's all good..." His sentence trailed off once she opened the oven and bent over sliding the tray inside, eyes glued to her backside even when she straightened up and closed the door. Yn turned around catching him in the act of pure adoration. Her face felt warm again.

"You're food is in the microwave, might be cold though."

He thanked her and started the microwave to warm up his food. He shoved his hands in his pockets, "So," he started. "How was your day?"

She shrugged. "Good, we just hung out-"

"Nah, nah," Rio leaned on the counter right next to her, his elbow popped her personal bubble once her crossed his arms. "How was your day? Aside from Marcus." Letting her know it was more of a personal question. "Oh, um... it was okay."

He raised his 'brow. "Why just okay?"

"Just tired, I don't know. I didn't sleep last night and then you called for me to come early-"

"You should've said something this morning. I would've cancelled what I had and dropped him off at school instead, let you sleep in."

She shook her head dismissing his offer. "It's cool."

Rio pondered on what Marcus had said earlier, maybe it wouldn't be so bad having Yn become a live in nanny. She lived far from where he was but bless her heart she always made it to the house or the school on time but now he was wondering how early she was waking up, starting to become worried if she was getting enough sleep.

"What if uh... what if you stayed here?"

She stopped scrubbing at the dishes and casted her eyes to the side. "What? Like... live with you guys?"

"Yeah, that way you could get some sleep, don't have to worry about driving so much. You wake up and everything's right here." YN twisted her mouth to the side, she was considering it, hell she wanted to say yes but it would look too weird and eager. Her response was taking a bit too long causing Rio to back track. "Look, it's only a suggestion. There's an extra room upstairs, I'll pay to move all your stuff here. If you want."

Yn looked over at him, a small smirk sat on his face and it caused her to smile. "Okay."

"Yeah?" He sounded a little too excited. "Yeah... it could be fun." Her tone suddenly turned from cheery to deep. "Aight then, it starts tonight. You go catch some sleep, I'll do the dishes when I'm done."

"Rio, it's okay."

His nostrils flared. She was a bit stubborn. "YN."

She sighed putting her hands up in surrender. "When the timer goes off take the cake out of the oven. Marcus' lunch is already packed."

"No problem. You can raid my closet until your stuff gets here. What's mine is yours ma."

She smiled softly. "Thanks. I will see you in the morning."

Rio winked and watched her vanish upstairs. He smirked knowing he has her right where he wanted her.

idk i hope yall like it. yes there will be part 2

If you liked this fic feel free to like this fic. Comments and re-blogs are appreciated. 

Peace and love 

Part 2

Tags: @skyesthebomb @rio-reid-whoreee

[see-arcane]

Van Helsing Venting (Vent Helsing)

Requisite apology goes here: I am sorry in advance to everyone with a soft spot for the funky old man.

But the reread combined with the podcast has helped put into focus an aggravation that has been nettling me forever without quite knowing how to articulate it.

I’ve brushed the edges of it more than once in several rants about how the Harkers are so constantly given the short stick in every single adaptation of Dracula for a hundred and a quarter years.

Jonathan is either erased, made into a bore, a brute, or unceremoniously killed off while all the amazing character traits and actions he’s responsible for in the story get stolen away and parsed out to others in the cast, often Dracula, Van Helsing, or [INSERT FEMALE THROWN INTO THE CASTLE TO BE BRIDAL CARRIED TO BED HERE].

Mina is alternately a feeble damsel who’s only there to be the pure maiden who gets to live through her seduction*** by Dracula (versus the suddenly scandalous-and-salacious Lucy), or a hashtag girlboss (reincarnated wife syndrome applied as desired) who divorces or otherwise abandons her milksop husband to hook up with a REAL MAN like DRACULA who sexily sex-liberates her. With sex. That she totally for sure wanted along with the bloodsucking.

But on one thing, the Harkers are equal—they never. Ever. Ever. Get to be the true protagonists of any Dracula adaptation, or spinoff, or offshoot, or revamp, et cetera.

This, despite Jonathan being the one to spend the most time with Dracula, alone, in his gothic horror novella of an opening, for Two Months, in which he got the most interaction and dialogue with the Count out of anyone else in the book.

This, despite him and his diary and his love to the point of blasphemy and his nerve and his kukri all being instrumental for the novel to work.

This, despite Mina being the one to literally compile the entire novel out of the transcripts it’s stitched from.

This, despite her connecting the dots to oust the bastard and showing immense courage all on her lonesome in confronting the Count for others’ sake more than once.

But why?

For the longest time, I was ready to grind my teeth and grouse over the obvious reasons of Jonathan and Mina Harker being so gloriously subversive then—and now!—that writers and directors of a certain sneering bent refused to acknowledge anything of their characters beyond the names when slathering their latest cookie cutter vampire bodice ripper with Stoker’s cast titles. The Harkers’ approaches to gender, to heroism, to defeating a villain whose entire role is being the worst of the Gothic Masculine Monster who bullies and preys upon pretty victims to collect for himself (hello harem and power fantasy combo, let’s make THIS guy the ultra-cool totally misunderstood sexypire star of the show!) all chafe against the mental rewrites too many filmmakers and writers make to turn the novel more palatable to their tastes. Assuming they read the book at all.

And that’s all its own pile of rants. But I’ve realized, only now, that this is just part of the problem. The other issue stems from Bram Stoker himself.

That issue being the conversion of an otherwise tight narrative and set of primed protagonist characters into the Abraham van Helsing Show.

I don’t know what it was about today’s entry specifically that made it all click home. Maybe it was already percolating since yesterday, or the day before. But somewhere in Van Helsing’s latest filibuster of dialogue—‘We must share everything! No, wait, tell her nothing! We must make all haste and not lose a moment! Let me turn five minutes’ worth of information into a monologue about bloom and blood and then suggest we all take a siesta on our laurels since we definitely have time to beat the Czarina Catherine! Jonathan, you stay at home with Mina while me and my non-questioning ducklings/the others who don’t really need lines anyway take care of the problem, doctor’s orders! And all my orders are followed, unquestionably, every time, despite them very clearly having only a 50/50 success rate, as is right!’—it all really hit me.

The moment Van Helsing turned into the never-doubted, never-need-apologize, yes, do kiss his hands like a fucking mafia godfather in gratitude for Doing the Things He Should Have Known to Do in the First Place After Lucy, ‘leader’ rather than ‘the lore collector/mentor’ is when the novel turns on its heel and starts breaking its back to accommodate him at the expense of everyone else.

The Harkers get it the worst, naturally.

Once they arrive in Purfleet and the documents are handed over, Van Helsing leads the pack in peer pressuring them into sequestering Mina away as their cheerleader who Need Not Suffer the Icky Horror of -checks notes- finding boxes. Not sent away anyplace safe and guarded by home rules and garlic and crosses; just left to Yellow Wallpaper her days away in the asylum suite.

Meanwhile, Jonathan proves to be literally the only useful member of this group project via hauling ass all over London to gather information to bring back to the table…which Van Helsing then oh-so-helpfully disseminates on top of the obvious point that, hey, yeah, there’s probably boxes there. We should do Wafers about it.

Now, in fairness, Van Helsing was a vital character up to a certain point. Jack called him in for his broader expertise, for how open his mind was as far as what he was willing to investigate or believe as a threat. Without him and his lore collection in Amsterdam, a lot of the details regarding anti-vampire tactics and Dracula’s history lesson wouldn’t have come into play. All this, plus providing the hideous proof of the Bloofer Lady’s reality, making the last three nonbelievers into members of the Drac Attack Pack. Last but far from least, he helps reassure Jonathan to free him from his crushing self-doubt, and then brings in both of the Harkers to create the full group. Fuck yeah!

All that considered, it does make some sense for him alone to give his little seminar on the Dracula Issue…

…except for the fact that Mina has absorbed and transcribed all the info herself. Literally all of it. And the fact that Jonathan personally knows the fucker. All three of these characters should have been at the head of the table, sharing what they know.

But they weren’t. It’s starting to become all about Dr. Abe—because that’s how Stoker keeps his OC self insert in the lion’s share of the spotlight.

This is also when Van Helsing is fresh off the nightmare with Lucy, fresh off of acknowledging that there is literally no reason at all to keep vampire secrets from anybody in this room, fresh off of being oh so thrilled with Mina’s helpfulness and canniness, fresh off of what should have been him learning his lesson and—in open-minded fashion—cutting off any benignly sexist chivalry at the knees to keep Mina in the loop and share the mastermind role.

And what does he decide?

Off to the tower, princess. It’s man work time! Man work here meaning: Investigate some scary dirt. Some rats are there. Everyone break up some Christ crackers, men. Thank God Mina isn’t here to suffer this, amirite? Oh, and Jonathan, be a dear and gather all the information on Dracula’s locations and properties while me and the others…do whatever. Read? Smoke? Something. Anyway, attaboy, such a good hard worker you are, Only Non-Titled Fresh-From-the-Lower-Class Man in the Group!

And then, after October 3rd?

He’s horrified. He’s upset. He’s King Laughing about Dracula’s good meal and within inches of being kukri’d. But you know what he isn’t?

Apologetic.

Oh, he says sorry for the crack about Dracula eating well—but all the actions that led up to the attack? Not a peep.

And when he falls right back into the ‘withhold as much information as possible until it’s time for a Big Specialboy Meeting and my Big Specialboy Corn-flavored Monologue of the Day, in which I’ll give more orders with full expectation that everyone here will hop to it like good little student-soldiers because the author says we can only follow me me me?’

The only saving grace is that Jonathan—not even Mina! JONATHAN!—finally puts his foot down and refuses to chase the stick without conferring with Mina first. Mina, who has always taken precedent to him, period, but also Mina, who has proven herself to be the soundest mind in the entire group and already well aware of the dangers Dr. Abe has been rambling about and trying to be oh-so-covert and sneaky about with Jack.

On that subject? Van Helsing is STILL living a fantasy world where he, and occasionally Jack, are the only ones who can put 2 and 2 together and consider taking anti-vampire measures against Mina.

When everyone has already read everything.

When Mina knows exactly what the risks and measures are.

When Jonathan ‘Would Sell His Soul for His Love and to Slaughter Dracula’ Harker knows all of this.

WHEN EVERYONE HAS EYES THAT CAN ALSO SEE MINA’S TEETH.

Brammy Pajamas. Bramothy Stokerton. Bramward Stokerbroker. My guy.

Your OC, by your own text’s rules, is not special here. He is not the protagonist. He is not the extra-clever center of the narrative’s universe, per your own fucking writing. Stop forcing this man and his refusal to evolve from his preconceptions and his main character pedestal-theft and his goddamn corncobs down our throats.*

*Note: This will not happen.

The one silver lining yet to come will be that Jonathan and Mina get to roughly shoulder their way back into the story’s forefront by the book’s climax. In a huge way. Jonathan even gets an upcoming scene in which he gets to finally, rightfully, chew Van Helsing to ribbons for casually declaring a Certain Horrifying Action has to be taken (Again! No questions asked! No explanation offered until after said chewing-out!) and the narrative treats this as the right move!

But still. Still. Van Helsing is showered with Stoker’s overblown attention to a character that should have had his influence and dialogue whittled down to a supporting role rather than crowding out the Harkers for two whole thirds of the book, complete with them batting their eyes at how brilliant~ he is for much of it.

Despite.

The facts.

In The Text.

That Mina and Jonathan could have led the the whole fucking thing themselves.

We’ll see in later chapters that Mina is ONCE AGAIN the one to figure out Dracula’s plans ahead of time and set everyone on the right course. Jonathan is ONCE AGAIN the one laser-focused on seeking and slaying the Count almost on a supernatural level. On top of all that? What galls me almost as much as the Harkers being robbed of their story spotlight IN THEIR OWN FUCKING STORY?

If Van Helsing hadn’t been one-man-showing the bulk of the dialogue to make sure Brammington got to wave his self-insert around as much as possible?

We could have let Jack, Arthur, and Quincey be actual presences in the book. Jack has a big role! Absolutely! But even he gets relegated to an orbiting figure rather than an active one once Van Helsing starts hogging the pages. Arthur is practically reduced to a mutely mourning money machine. Quincey gets a few moments to remind everyone Hi, Yes, I am a Cowboy. And that’s it.

THAT’S. IT. FOR ALL OF THEM.

Hell, even Lucy and Renfield get whittled down to wisps of dialogue compared to the whole trees’ worth of lines Van Helsing rattles off.

All because Stoker couldn’t bear to let Van Helsing be the character he should have been.

The support. The guide rather than the commander.

Star Wars isn’t about Yoda, but it wouldn’t be the same without the wise little weirdo! That’s what Van Helsing would and should have been great for! But no!

I see now that I owe at least one small retroactive apology to those movie makers and spinoff writers who try to spin Van Helsing as the very real definite archnemesis of Dracula despite the fact that they have exactly two (2) scenes together and no dialogue. It’s not just the cool name. It’s not just because all of the (frequently male and/or Dracula-crushing) directors and writers refuse to acknowledge Jonathan Harker’s existence or importance.

It's because Stoker himself damn near choked his own book to death with the old man’s screentime, backed up by an utter refusal to let the narrative or the characters acknowledge when he’s fucked up. He always has to be the wise scholar. He always has to command the room and the story when neither of them belong to him.

I’d genuinely like to see one of two adaptations in the future.

In one, we could see a Van Helsing who, following October 3rd, chooses to step back. One where he and others logically point out that he has misled everyone with forced unnecessary ignorance and following stodgy hindering social rules, again, and it has doomed someone precious to them, again. One where the Harkers finally get proper center stage, likewise for the Suitor Squad—the latter of whom are written in canon as having a legit history of dangerous adventures undertaken together. Flesh those out, writers! Let these characters be present in their own fucking story! It’d be a golden opportunity to highlight a point Stoker fumbles even as he champions so many other forward-thinking notions:

Sometimes the older generation has to let go of the reins. Sometimes progress doesn’t come just from following and nodding along, but from forging ahead with new concepts and fresher minds. Case in point, Mina and Jonathan, who are apparently still too radically-written to be bothered with depicting accurately in the 21st century apart from a podcast that is literally just reading their lines verbatim.

The other option an adaptation could take? Supposing it really wanted to lean into the horror and heartbreak and forcing the ducklings to stop grasping at the Dutchman’s coattails?

Kill Van Helsing.

Dracula would absolutely think to target him, assuming that he, the elder with his acquired lore and scholarly nuisance, must surely be the keystone keeping his young enemies together. Given the chance, he’d follow that assumption to its conclusion and, on top of burning what he assumes is all the documentation on him, murdering his fellow clever old man in cold blood, ala Renfield. Bonus points if this comes at a bittersweet cost of Van Helsing landing a parting blow on the Count as thematic penance for ‘failing’ Mina, the second young girl who trusted him and paid for it, giving the bastard his second scar to match the shovel blow on his brow. Double bonus if the mark comes from a Wafer burn.

“Any last words, old man?”

“God bless you.”

Cue him slapping the Son right in the fucker’s face. He doesn’t last long after that, but it’s still a good view to go out on as the Vampire curses and sizzles.

And, natch, he will have been wise enough to leave another memorandum for Jack and the others just in case this very thing should happen. A rousing farewell speech, some parting intel, some apologies made. Perhaps a more personal goodbye to his pupil; complete with Jack’s professional mien cracking like glass and the long-put-off tears finally pouring. Then, finally, the crew move forward as one; no longer leaning on or chafing against Van Helsing’s assumed lead, but using the exact same tools they’d always had at their disposal, along with their own wits that the narrative forced them into ignoring in favor of the Professor’s lectures.

Anyway.

Van Helsing is not a bad character. He’s richly made and interesting, as any worthwhile member of a cast should be! But Stoker crammed him into the wrong role and spread him far too thin across the whole book. Doing so has been detrimental not only to all the media which followed it, but to the actual leads of the novel.

[moonlightdancer26]

I'm an ex-marauders fan at this point, but haven't yet worked up the nerve to leave :( Wish me luck.

The marauders fandom promises acceptance and tolerance and lighthearted fun, but as soon as Severus comes up, the previously rosy atmosphere turns downright ugly. I've seen so many marauders fans posting or reblogging about how “your trauma is valid”, how “intentions don’t matter if you hurt someone”, and how “apologies don’t count if they’re coupled with an excuse”… who also go out of their way to justify the ‘prank’ because Sirius didn’t /mean/ to almost kill Snape, and how it’s really all Snape’s fault, and why can’t he get over it already since the marauders clearly became better people (even though Snape never received any kind of apology or any indication that they regretted their behavior)?

And these posts live side by side on their dash? Idk just needed to vent as i figure out where to go next in this fandom (or maybe another one altogether)...

WTF THIS ASK WAS FROM SEPTEMBER 😭😭 I’M SO SORRY I SWEAR I’VE BEEN SO EXCITED TO ANSWER YOUR ASK BUT I GOT TOO BUSY AND ALWAYS POSTPONED IT 😭

Anyway, I totally wish you luck anon. It’s hard switching fandoms and building up the courage to “move to the other side,” but I can tell you that it is 100% worth it when you realise how much the Snapedom differs from the Marauders fandom! As someone who’s been in the fandom for many years, seen what both sides are like, and has a bunch of friends (both online and irl) who don’t always share the same opinion, I can safely say that we are generally far more accepting of different opinions than the Marauders fandom. We tend to steer clear of them because they’re.. very persistent about their opinions and find it amusing to purposefully mistag their anti-Snape posts or to scroll through pro-Snape/anti-Marauders tags and attack the posters. But if you’re not like that and you can accept not always agreeing with friends or fandom members, then we’ll welcome you with open arms <3

And honestly I agree, I’ve seen Marauder stans make excellent and detailed analyses of their favourite characters and articulate their arguments greatly. But then all that reading comprehension shoots out the window when it comes to Snape, and you suddenly see them brush him off as nothing more than a “obsessed incel nazi” and call it a day. I’ve seen similar things happen with Snape fans as well, and I completely understand how you feel.

All I can say is: Just leave the Marauders fandom. Either announce it with a post and say that you no longer wish to be in the Marauders fandom or want to switch to the Snape fandom. Or if you want, you can create another blog altogether. The important thing is that you do it now and get it over with, because simply reading your ask and knowing how it’s negatively affecting you really upsets me. This ask was sent around 2 months ago, so I hope that by now you’ve done something about it, but if you haven’t, this is what I think about the whole situation. I wish you the best ❤️❤️ and if you, or anyone else who’s struggling with anything similar, want to DM me and talk about this, don’t hesitate to do so.

[jaemified]

I COULD NEVER LIE TO YOU.

“maybe i finally understood why you were the way you were. or maybe you just never tried to understand me.”

☆ pairing ; toxic bf lee chan x fem reader

☆ genre ; hurt, ANGST, no comfort, toxic relationship, y/n vents but she has no one, slightly suggestive content

☆ warnings ; swearing, drinking, implied substance abuse, mentions of cheating and sex, y/ns insecure af (and only cz he made her that way), chans a gaslight and manipulator but also very possessive !!

☆ wordcount ; 0.9k

☆ synopsis ; youve been struggling with a toxic relationship for years now, but you had no one to tell that to, or anyone thatd believe you at least. so while your boyfriend slips out for the night to god knows where, you use this time to write down and express everything youve bottled up all this time.

☆ kona speaks ! - i think its funny how i always start with swearing in cw when its not anywhere near the worst thing in the story LMAOAOAOA anyway sorry i havent uploaded in FOREVER.. college is so hard (+i love my new format! all my drafts from the past 2 months are written like this:))

!disclaimer!, this is a pure work of fiction and is not in any way related to chan and his personality! purely for entertainment purposes only, and for me to express some thoughts :)

READ BELOW THE CUT

OCTOBER 31, 2023

you had left me on my own yet again. its not like i had any true friends left to be with anyway, after you scared them all off, that is.

who knows where you couldve gone.

no, the real you.

my sweet, sweet channie i fell in love with all those years ago.

where could you have gone?

maybe i wasnt good enough, maybe i wasnt pretty enough.

or maybe you werent understanding enough.

i always thought it was me, but maybe it was you all this time.

i like to think back at when we were last happy, god. that mustve been ages ago, just about.

it was.. my 16th birthday?

-my 16th birthday-

it was.. the day we had to put my dog down. my puppy since i was young. i remember it all clearly now.

i was..

-i was..-

we, we were 17.

mmm, my dog was probably my best friend. the realest one in a while.

i remember how you were there for me, even took me to my favorite donut shop to distract me while you tried so hard to make me laugh.

it worked.

i wish you were still you when we were young.

my sweet channie.

where could you have gone?

i could care less about your whereabouts.

i could care less about how you told me i was lying and that you knew i loved you whenever i tried expressing how i felt about us now.

but maybe i just want to be loved again.

maybe i just want to feel something again.

and i know it cant be with you.

i remember the last time you brought me out we were at mingyus halloween party last year.

nobody could find you, so i went to look for you myself.

i noticed your location was still shared with me, and not any of your friends.

so i tracked you to our car.

-our-

i tracked you to your car.

(since nothing that was yours was mine anyway)

and there you were.

fucking some random girl in the backseat.

that was the last day i saw any of my friends.

you never let me out again.

“you cant go, youll just be in my way.” you said before you left for soonyoungs christmas party.

“you cant go, i cant bare to see you hurt again.” you told me before i was about to leave to my own birthday party planned by my friends.

“you cant go, youll just play victim in front of all my friends and cry about how i fucked another girl.” you told me before you left a few hours ago.

i never know with you. but, i know deep down you care.

somewhere.

its always how y/n cant go here, y/n cant do this. or, shes too busy, we have something planned, shes not home.

even in the way you always spoke over me i knew you were just trying to speak for me.

but what about you?

why cant i have a say in anything you do? why do i get everything taken from me? why did you scare off all my friends and even make your friends hate me too?

you always came home high or on something whenever a different girl each time, dropped you off after you came back from a different party.

i never missed the way theyd look at me.

as if you said something about me.

because you know i never forget the look on someones face

it wasnt till later when i found out from wonwoo that everything you did to me, you told those girls thats what i did to you.

i learned to be quiet though.

i learned to sit there and smile, and just take it.

there was nothing i could do though, theres nothing that couldve changed your actions.

i mean, i cant control you.

so why can you control me?

the channie i knew from when we were 20 wouldve consoled me and been there for me.

the channie i knew from when we were 15 wouldve just laughed about how mr seo accidentally buzzed his head in the boys locker room.

the channie i knew from when we first met in grade school wouldnt even have thought about doing half the things you do now.

so where did we go wrong?

i still think about that.

was it, when we hit puberty?

was it, when we moved out?

was it, when we graduated?

our first date?

the day i found out you cheated?

y/n scoffed as she looked at the giant brown teddy bear in the corner of the room that chan had won for her on their first date.

she let out an annoyed sigh, thinking back, looking back at whatever point in time that couldve even reflected a glimpse of this change in him.

it was too subtle, but too sudden, for her to even remember.

she took a sip of her ginger ale before picking up her pen and scribbling some more in her diary that only she had the key to.

who knows what he’d do if he saw all the things she said about him.

you really werent much help.

nevertheless, i still love you.

i really fucking love you.

i know you do too.

i know a part of you inside still cares for me.

i could even cry thinking about it.

yeah, i realize i dont get out much.

but you never hurt me.

physically, at least.

the emotional damage is beyond repair though.

but i know theres still a bit of the you from our youth left.

i see it in the way you look at me.

no matter how mad,

how upset,

how happy,

how sad you were,

whether you were high,

whether you were drunk,

even when we were younger too.

you always looked at me the same.

that softened gaze and warm eyes.

the eyes never change. the eyes dont lie.

i mean, you could deny it (which id only laugh if you tried), but your eyes tell.

maybe thats why im still holding on.

maybe im just waiting for the boy i first fell in love with to randomly come back.

the chances are slim.

but i still hope.

im holding on.

by a thread, at least.

not like you’d let me leave anyway.

i could say how theres still love left within us

probably, somewhere

but when was the last time we were genuinely happy?

what do you get out of this?

because it isnt happiness. it cant be. you wouldnt be here if you were.

we’re both miserable. i see it and feel it.

it’s like, im just here for you.

i can understand the pressure though.

everyone would ask “how did you make it through college?” “how did you make it through high school?”

they dont understand though. you kinda made me

-you kinda made me-

they dont understand though.

i mean,

maybe i finally understood why you were the way you were

or maybe you just never tried to understand me.

i could tell you all of these things.

but i couldnt.

because i could never ‘lie’ to you.

[coexistentialism]

I've talked about these things a lot on this blog, so a lot of this might be repeated things I've talked about before, but I've always said that I've described my experiences as "identity hyperfixations", where I latch onto things, even just Words that I find myself really liking, and an "identity" is "created" based around that Thing.

For some examples from my personal experiences!:

A lot of the time, these "identity hyperfixations" involve me latching onto media, particularly whatever current media we may or may not be interested in in the moment.

There's a game called Stray Gods: the Roleplaying Musical (pls play it omg pls-nJFNDSK). We were very attached to that game for a while when it came out and we found out about it. We particularly grew attached to the character Calliope and for about maybe 2 weeks or so? I thought about using the name Calliope at times, and I painted my nails yellow to match the color of her nails in the game. I wanted to dress like her and overall you can see where this is all going lmfao

Or recently where we were very attached to Splatoon (it's our main special interest, but the way we feel, play, and interact with the game and fandom and such online differs per parts!!) and 'I' identified as an octoling and just thought of myself with the name Octo, mostly as a placeholder because I couldn't think of anything better, but I grew to like it lmfao. Ofc I am always interested in Splatoon, but recently I was just much more interested in it and particularly interested in specific aspects and such, even ended up creating another blog, a Splatoon-centered blog that also functions as a sort of vent/DID-related blog (it's @annaki-octo if anyone wants to check it out lol)

You can, again, see where this is going. Incoming long post. Because I can never make a short post lmfao

I should also mention that, in the past, I often wouldn't actually ever use a different name, and I still don't, but I've more recently been doing that for a bit now because we're starting to get used to it and be okay with it and honestly it's been beneficial. But yeah, most of my life, I usually didn't outright actually use any separate names outwardly with people, and didn't even really realize that I was choosing different names for myself in the first place because I thought that I was just creating characters. And if I DID end up outwardly using a different name, it was excused as me choosing a different name because I'm trans or making up a "fake online pseudonym" for "privacy" reasons. It has never been any different to me than creating a character. It's still not.

This is basically EXACTLY what my experience is like, day-to-day/week-to-week/month-to-month.

They never really last long, and a new "identity hyperfixation" quickly follows, while the other one dies out.

And it usually goes like this, in the image above (it might be hard to read, sorry lol, but I'm describing it anyways so dw):

--- Concepts/ideas/etc. Pop Up Into My Brain:

May be thinking about the idea of using a different name

May be really invested in a new, or "re-new'd" interest (as in: something I liked in the past and I am now interested in it again after a long period of disinterest)

May prefer certain gendered terminology (or no, or different 'gendered' terminology), for example, boyfriend/girlfriend/partner (or something/anything else)

May prefer certain pronouns over others, and/or may struggle to know what kind of pronouns I like

May be thinking about changing our icon to something different than before (on Discord, Tumblr, etc.)

May be thinking about creating a new Tumblr side blog (with or without a ""fake name attached to it, definitely not an alter :)"" spoiler alert: it's usually an alter lmfao)

May or may not think about what it would be like the have a particular physical attribute(?), not sure how to word this lol, like I'll think about how I wished my hair looked a certain way, or sometimes if it's possible, I might actually do something to change my physical appearance somehow, even if it's just wearing a specific clothing piece, but sometimes it can be like with my Calliope example where I paint my nails a particular color, or I actually dye or cut my hair, etc... The possibilities can be endless and can even be much bigger changes, such as alters making the decision to go on HRT.

--- An 'Identity' Begins to 'Solidify'

May have found a name, or a 'placeholder name' to use

May like using a specific icon (on Tumblr, on Discord, etc.) or icons, or may like using icons with a common theme/visual appearance/etc. (such as using icons that feature the color blue a lot, or using icons of a specific character, etc.)

May become much more self-aware and confident in their existence

May or may not have created a new side blog, with or without a particular name attached to that blog

--- An 'Identity' Diminishes; start from the beginning

May no longer care for, or like, the previous name(s) or placeholder(s) names that we may have chosen

May no longer care for, or like, the previous icon(s) we used, the Tumblr blog(s) we may or may not have made, etc.

For as long as I can remember, this has been my experience with DID - or at least, NOW I understand that it's been DID all along.

And the cycle continues.

Nothing really ever "comes back." It's just "new" "identity" after "new" "identity" after "new" "identity" for me, day in and day out, week-to-week, month-to-month.

Not sure how to close off this post, but yeah lmfao

[casperberkins]

Bookstore Girl

Contains: Alhaitham x GN!Reader, Reader likes Sumeru library, Hurt / Comfort, Alhaitham is a little ooc (I’m sorry), SFW, Fluff

You should totally listen to Bookstore Girl by Charlie Burg while reading this fic. I randomly stumbled upon this song in the process of writing and couldn’t help myself. This may or may not have become a vent towards the end but we don’t talk about that (˘ŏ_ŏ) Anyway, enjoy!

The Sumeru library was always a safe space for you, and after being plagued by anxiety, this situation was no exception. The first few times you visited the library, you had always seen a green and grey haired man perusing around, always looking for /something/. And sadly, today was no exception. Every time you visited the library, you noticed him. But you never knew /him/, or his name.

The Sumeru library had always been a safe haven for you and your thoughts. You were always tucked away in the darkest corner of the library, reading and studying for whatever life threw at you. Opening the large doors, you smiled. The library was always the same. Glancing around, you noticing something.. Different? A grey and green-haired man was seated in one of the isles of books, with a stack of literature at his side as he sifted through them methodically.

“That’s strange,” you thought, but kept it to yourself, hugging your books tighter to your chest before walking off to the corner of the library you called your safe space. You stay there for hours, looking through hundreds of books just for the hell of it. Then you noticed the man again. He was standing closer to you this time, and as if he sensed you staring at him, he looked up from his book just to look at you. You made eye-contact with him, noting his green eyes with striking red pupils before continuing to read.

At some point during your time, someone had left a book on your desk. You grabbed it carefully, looking it over before sifting through the pages gently. It was a beautiful book, with accented gold edges and worn but pleasing pages. You stirred for a moment, quickly gazing around the library to find whoever left this for you. Then the man caught your eye. He was walking out the door to the library, but not before peeking over his shoulder just to see if you received the book he had left or not.

You smiled, holding the book tightly in your grasp like it was your most prized possession.

—

You glanced around the library nervously, quickly and quietly walking towards the closest desk and seating yourself. Your leg shook anxiously. School was stressing you out, and attending the Akademiya didn’t make anything better. While most of the time you could handle the workload, this time was different. Multiple professors had assigned five different projects in the same month. You felt tears collecting in the inner-corners of your eyes as you bundled your head in your hands.

You dropped the books you had been holding onto the desk, a loud crash echoing through the empty library. No one was ever in the library at this time, and even if there were people in the library, you didn’t care. You didn’t care if anyone saw you breaking down.

You tried to pick up a pencil to start writing, but your hands were shaking too badly for you to even start writing. This made you sob even more. “Why can’t I get anything right..” you cried, your voice breaking and quiet. Your breath quickened, your lungs tightening with every breath as it felt like the world was about to cave in. That’s because the world /was/ going to cave in.

“Are you.. Are you alright?” A pair of green eyes glanced down at you, a warm hand being placed on your shoulder as he spoke.

You tried to hiccup a response, but all you seemed to get out was a broken “Yes”, to which the man did, in fact, not believe. He gave you a pitiful look before pulling up a chair and seating himself next to you. The grey and green-haired man opened his book and began reading, glancing up every few heartbeats to make sure your breathing was slowing and returning to the correct pace.

Despite all your previous worries, the presence of someone else kept you at peace. You wiped your damp eyes, staring down at your feet as you sniffled quietly. You looked over at the man, who was still reading quietly, very obviously integrated into his book. He stared up at you, titling his head in a silent question of, “Are you ok now?”

You nodded, sniffling before wiping your nose on your sleeve. He closed his book, blinking at you with a softened expression as he walked off to check out his book. You smiled gently at him, glancing over at your work. While you were still shaken up, you seemed to be able to finish the work, your breath faltering every few seconds when you remembered the workload, but once your thoughts returned back to that man, you felt at peace.

With your work finished and your mood returning back to normal, you packed up all your work, looking up from your papers to notice a book. You smiled gratefully, thanking the green and grey-haired man in your head for the book before quickly picking it up and walking out of the library.

—

Day after day, visit after visit, you /always/ saw him. He was /always/ there. After the incident with you, it was like he was there every time you were there. You were looking for a book? He stayed a few rows behind you, searching for a book on the regions of Teyvat. You were reading in your corner? He was sitting almost right next to you, remaining completely silent, save for the few glances he spared you every few minutes.

He was one of the most quiet people you had ever met. It was almost endearing how soft and delicate he was with every book he touched, handling the pages with care and cursing anyone who had damaged or even bent a page of a book.

You honestly found it cute how much of a bookworm he was, and yet, you didn’t even know his name. You could’ve asked around for his name — the librarian probably would’ve known —, but you wanted to get to know him /personally/.

Sometimes you thought he forgot about you — maybe you were just a phase he grew out of —, until you noticed a book on your desk. You blinked the drowsiness out of your eyes, examining the book with utter precision, a mirthful grin on your face. He always gave you good books. And they weren’t just /good/; they were great. They were in good condition but their /plot/? He had good taste, but you’d never admit it.

You shuffled your way out of the library, giving him a wave on the way out. He smiled at you softly, the corners of his lips quirking slightly. How could a man you’d only known for about a week — give or take — make you /so/ happy? And how could someone so quiet give you so much comfort?

—

It was kinda funny, this cycle you and this man had. Throughout the following months leading up to December, the grey and green-haired man left you books. Every time you left the library, you left with a book clutched in your hands, a saccharine smile on your face. He always left you little notes in the books, the contents of the notes always being random. Either it was something about his work, or it was about what the book contained. Either way, you were happy and pleased with his choices in literature.

And you even left him books. While your handwriting wasn’t as perfect or pretty as his, you always made sure to pick out the best books you could find. Your notes were always pleasant, containing notes on the book and notes on your life, but uniquely, never your name. Your names’ seemed to be the only thing separating your interactions with the grey and green-haired man from making you two friends.

You didn’t know his name, and he didn’t know yours. It was as simple as that. And he constantly was in a hurry. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he’d just run off, claiming to be busy or just mumbling a half-hearted apology. It made you a little upset. But the look of happiness that he hid to himself whenever he saw you was confirmation enough that you two were something close to friends.

In December, as the snow fell and you hugged your jacket closer to your body, you opened the giant doors to the library and was greeted by a great surprise.

“Salutations,” the grey and green-haired man murmured gently, a neatly wrapped box in his hands. He looked down at you expectantly, tilting his head curiously.

“Hello,” you breathed, smiling. Everything around you fell away, and the only thing you could focus on was /him/. “How have you been?”

“I.. I have been..” He blinked slowly, as if in deep thought, “I’ve been holding up well, but I’m better now,” the man smiled gently at you. “How have you been fairing this winter?”

“I’ve been good,” you beamed, almost bouncing. “I.. I never caught your name,” you said slowly, a perplexed expression on your face.

“Alhaitham,” he said slowly, as if counting out the syllables in his head, “and what about you?”

“Ah, so /you’re/ the one that lies about being a feeble scholar,” you teased, leaning forward towards him.

“I /am/ a feeble scholar,” he replied gently.

“I’m [Name].”

“Ah, so I did get your name right on your present..” Alhaitham said absently, handing the wrapped box to you slowly. On the top of the lid of the box was a card neatly placed in its envelope with [Name] — in his neat as fuck handwriting — on the back of the envelope.

Your mouth opened in silent confusion. “Did I spell your name right?” He inquired, grabbing at the back of his hair nervously.

“Y- Yes, but.. But how-"

“I have my ways,” he smiled at you as he walked past you, placing his hand on the door’s wooden frame. “I hope I see you again, [Name].”

“I.. I hope I see you again, too, Alhaitham.” Your voice was so quiet, a mere whisper over the soft sound of boots walking across snow.

—

Every time you saw him after that, a sort of comfort filled your chest. You learned about him, and in return, he learned about you. He still gave you books every time he saw you, and you joked that you’d have a full library by the end of this affair. His smile soured into a frown when you said the word “end”.

Gently pushing open the door to the library, you were greeted by Alhaitham. “[Name], hello.” He said softly, the sound of his gentle footsteps reverberating off the walls surrounding you.

“You never cease to make a flashy entrance, huh?” You teased, hitting his arm as you walked past him, slipping into the chair of your favorite desk in the corner of the library.

He quickly followed after you, a gentle smile on his face. Alhaitham sat in the seat beside you, looking curiously at the book you were reading. “It’s..” he paused, blinking slowly and narrowing his eyes.

“One of your books? Yes, yes it is. I must say, for a feeble scholar, you have quite the good taste in books,” you held the book between your fingers, holding it out for him to look at. He took it with a grin, skimming the pages with a delicateness you doubted he could show to a human being. It made your ribs twinge with sadness thinking about how he might not feel the same. Unrequited love was terrifying.

And even if you were terrified of unrequited love, you were even more terrified of losing /him/. Alhaitham was one of the only people who would actually listen to you without judgment, and even if he did have judgment, he withheld it. Everything about him made you happy, whether it be his calm demeanor, to his odd hair and eyes. Your heart ached to feel something, anything, close to reciprocated love. But then your heart shattered at the thought of it being with /Alhaitham/. Because he would /never/ share the same feelings you felt for him.

“You.. You decorated the inside, didn’t you?” He inquired in an airy tone, green and red eyes searching for the drawings you had made in the book.

You looked taken aback. You didn’t think he’d notice. But, of course, that was another one of his traits. Noticing things the outside world perceived as useless. “I did,” you confirmed, fluttering through the pages as you found the drawing you were looking for. “It’s one of you,” you said quietly, lowering your head. “I- I was bored, and—”

“It’s beautiful.” He said, admiring the work of art strewn across the margins of the book. While the artwork covered some of the words, he seemed to ignore that fact, his eyes analyzing every color and detail on the page as if he was reading a scene from his favorite book. Memorizing the piece so he could keep it in his memories forever. “I.. I can’t believe you did this for me..”

“Of course I did,” you replied, your fingertips airily tapping across the page. “I.. I like drawing pretty things,” you continued, averting your gaze as your face turned a bit pink.

“Then should I draw you?” Alhaitham said slowly, gazing up from the page to look directly into your eyes.

Your eyes widened as you gasped. You were taken aback by his comment, attempting to gain composure before your mind replayed the moment over and over.

“I..”

“I love you, [Name].. I’m sorry if I’m not able to show it..” He trailed off, glancing across the library with a solemn look. “I’m sorry I can’t be the significant other you want me to be.”

“But you’re already perfect, Haitham.” You replied quickly, the words spilling out of your mouth before you could stop them. “I- I mean—”

“If I’m perfect, then what are you?” He chuckled, pulling you closer to him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Alhaitham.”

[the-oracles-maw]

don't you beg for love

kinda a vent fic to console myself. Anyway, it's been a hot minute and I'm sorry about that. Finals are coming up. Also also if anyone wants to see a different dbd killer feel free to request who!

Cowboy grandpa Caleb gives you some cowboy grandpa advice.

The Grave of Glenvale had become more of a home to you than the Entity's twisted copy of your own. You've never been to Arizona, you would reason. What young folk like yourself haven't fantasized about being a mysterious cowboy looming into a Saloon? Big, hot iron strapped to your hip, ready to clean house of bandits?

You kept telling yourself that as you made your way into the Saloon, or what was left of it. Some of the letters reading "DEAD DAWG" had been shot off, making it read more like the "D D DA G SALOON"

You were fine, you told yourself. You were curious about what the whiskey was like in the late 1800's. You were into the cowboy aesthetic.

A grumble and a cough rings out. An uncharacteristically chipper voice that did not suit whom it belonged to.

"Why, ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

You weren't fine.

If you were fine, you wouldn't have totally just perked up hearing the mangled voice of the undead bounty hunter that all but took you in when you found yourself in this warped, new world.

Caleb's genuine smile was comically lopsided, one side of his face completely, grotesquely smooshed thanks to the bullet that shattered and ripped through his jaw. If one knew any better, they'd turn tail and run from the sight.

The outlaw ran his thick fingers over the rim of the glass of fresh neat whiskey, which somehow looked drinkable. The Entity was good to her killers, that was for sure, apparently.

"What're standing there for, mo chuisle? Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable. I don't bite."

Trying not to drag your feet, you settle on the barstool across from Caleb, looking away from him. Already, you felt a little bit better. The sound of glass dragging across old wood makes your eyes snap up at him, Caleb holds a new glass of whiskey for you. Where it came from, you haven't a clue. The Entity had her ways, perhaps. And you didn't dare question it.

"Have some," He drawled. "Yer lookin' rough."

You paused, and look at the honey colored liquid, already anticipating the bitter, burning sting down your throat.

"Well? Go on." Caleb insisted, nudging the glass towards you.

You take the glass, and slam it back. "It ain't like them fancy rich folk pops yer used to back home. You're not meant to taste it," you remember Caleb telling you. You cough loudly as you down the drink in one gulp, still not used to the bitter burn, causing the man to laugh.

"Bah, you'l get use to it, eventually. Now, talk to me dotey," Caleb stretched, you could hear the creaking of the metal brace on his bad leg. "What's eating at you now?"

What wasn't eating at you? Compared to Caleb, and most, if not all of your cohorts, you hadn't been here very long. But, if one was keeping track the best they could, it was likely you'd been trapped here for a little over three months. You did the Entity's bidding well. You gave her fresh sacrifices. She was please and kept you healthy and strong. But still...

You felt out of place.

You struggled to connect with your fellow killers. Even the band known as the Legion, who seemed just about your age, seemed... off-put by you. The outgoing and charismatic Danny Johnson wouldn't give you a second glance. When the killers mingled about the campfire before retreating to their respective realms, you were forced to stay far away, or awkwardly follow Caleb on the rare occasion he made an appearance.

"So, I..." You began, trying to find the words. "I went out with Frank and his friends."

"Did you now?" Caleb took a swig of the whiskey. "How was that? You have fun?"

You sigh sadly. "It was... I don't know, kind of like I wasn't there. I mean, I had a good time, it was bowling but..."

"Now, lemme ask you something, mo chuisle..." Caleb's voice was uncharacteristically soft. Gentle, even as he leaned in. "Why do you even stick around Frank, huh? You ain't into 'em, and they ain't into you."

You don't have an answer to that, you just look down at the empty glass guiltily. Caleb shakes his head. On your slouched shoulder, a rough hand finds purchase.

"Hey now, you don't mind if you lend me an ear, do ya?"

Not at all.

"Look," Caleb clears his throat, scooching the barstool a little closer to you. "I know it hurts, trust me, I know. But, there's just gonna be folks out there who, for whatever God damned reason, just don't like ya. Doesn't necessarily have to be something you did."

You could tell by the tone of Caleb's voice that this was something he himself's also struggled with: Feeling out of place. An Irish immigrant, undesirable by white employers and pioneers on the western front. "And sometimes, dotey? You gotta know when to give it up."

You sigh sadly. Deep down, you know Caleb is right. Frank and the Legion will probably never see you as a friend. "I know... I... I guess I just want people to like me."

"Why, I like ya!" Caleb playfully nudges you on the shoulder, making you laugh. "But... yeah. I get it. You're still a young lil' thing. You wanna run wild with people your age."

You nod.

"Listen here now, mo chuisle, I know yer crushed," Caleb continued, "It might take a while to, 'find your people,' so to speak. Took me my whole damn life. Took me 'till my last few years to find my people." His lips rose as you both knew he was referring to the Hellshire Gang.

Caleb gently caressed your shoulder, patting it every now and then, his eyes softening. "Ya can't beg for folks to like ya, mo chuisle. It'll only hurt you in the end." A soft smile returns to his face. "And when you find your people, you won't have to beg. You know why?"

You blink, and Caleb grins. "Because the best folk'll see you the way I do, grá mo chroí."

Your eyes don't feel as stingy anymore as you smile back at him. You think you're going to leave the Legion alone for a little while, and stick by Caleb. Sure, your friendship was... unconventional, but you never had to beg for Caleb's attention. And best of all? He was delighted to have you around.

Perhaps your people, age gap be damned, was right in front of you, sharing a whiskey with you.

You wouldn't ever have to beg.

__

"mo chuisle": literally "my pulse" my darling, my love

"grá mo chroí": literally "love of my heart"

[abyssleaves]

Why I'll Be Remaining in the Lurking For Love Community

Ok.

Honestly, I really don't want to make this.

I'm way too old for fandom drama, and I don't need to be making myself a target. My gut is telling me that it's a bad idea to get involved, and I'm inviting trouble for myself by posting this.

But the most recent post against Tom is just ridiculous and I can't not speak my piece.

I'm not linking to it or reblogging it because I don't want to send hate anyone's way, and honestly because I'm going to block them as soon as this is posted. You can read mine and theirs for yourself and decide what you think.

As far as the “anti-Latino” posts that Tom liked, I can't speak to whether they do damage, or what Tom’s views actually are. I am not Latino, and I'm not Tom. It's not my place. But I will say I was aware of those posts long before I saw that “callout” post, and it's because multiple Latino artists I follow liked and retweeted them. At the time, I was given to understand that they were satirizing the fact that both were styles of stereotypes, but one was acceptable while the other was not, despite both being bad. I can't say, based on just those tweets, that I see any anti-Latino sentiment in Tom. I'm willing to admit that my knowledge on that front isn't bomb-proof.

The second point, well... I'm sorry to the friend that feels used. They're entitled to be hurt. And I will readily admit that I'm only able to respond to the info within that post. Maybe there IS more to it.

But I don't think that Tom ceasing contact over the hormones is surprising at all, from a mental health standpoint. Put yourself in his shoes: you're a trans person in US, which is its own struggle, and you've reached your mid/early 20s without being able to attain gender-affirming care. Now someone years younger than you just got the thing you want more than anything else. Sure, you might be happy for them. But that is also going to hurt, horribly. You really have three options:

1) stay friends and smother the bitterness/possible resentment. That will either end up ruining your mental health, or coming out and ruining the friendship anyway.

2) Ask your friend not to tell you/post about their transition. That makes it about you and also ruins something that should make them happy.

3) Distance yourself.

Maybe he should have spoken more directly with you about his feelings, granted. But, Tom has not been shy about the fact that he struggles with his mental health. None of us handle every situation well. As far as his occasional venting, I would think, if you WERE his friend, you might have some compassion, and either cease contact if the friendship is not fulfilling, or accept his sincere, well-written apology (Which are the ONLY words straight from Tom’s mouth on the entire fucking post).

Instead, you got the apology from him, and then shared a bunch of gossip between you and another friend, and outed your interpretations of his vent sessions to the world. That's not exactly classy, posting about how he sought people he felt safe with during a time when a big chunk of the community he built is telling him to do horrible things to himself.

I want to make it clear that I don't agree with all of Tom’s views as expressed on his initial explanation post. Again, many of them are issues that I don't feel are my place to get involved in, and therefore I stayed quiet at the time.

I'm aware that the justified and intense hurt felt by people in those communities can mean that even differing opinions feel like a slap in the face. You have every right to see Tom’s views as hurtful and choose to leave, and/or make a separate community for support. I don't blame people who are in those communities for doing so. This post is aimed at the obsessed minority that won't leave the tag/remaining fans/Tom alone.

All of the above being said, the reaction to Tom’s post is the most “touch grass” thing I have ever seen.

Tom liking one or two comics from a dark-humor comic artist so widespread on the internet that I didn't even know he had an actual page, or anything about him as a person (something Tom also stated) = Tom is a Nazi sympathizer.

Tom saying “I don't care for neopronouns, but I won't attack you for using them and will respect what everyone wants to be called” = Tom is a monstrous bigot.

The racism accusation has me especially 💀. All because he liked a post about help from an unexpected source and that we should be kinder to each other.

How on earth are you going to tell a POC that he doesn't know what racism is because he’s NOT THE RIGHT KIND OF POC? Do you hear yourself?

(FWIW, I also don't agree with kink at pride. Sorry. LGBTQ+ people are not "narsty little freaks"--yeah I SAW that post--they're people. They can be kinky, they can be vanilla, whatever. Kink has nothing to do with your orientation, and therefore it isn't part of Pride. Also, my guys, if you're having public sex/being nude at pride for kink reasons, then you're not part of the healthy kink community: safe, sane, and CONSENSUAL. Nobody around you consented to that. Similarly, while I feel that sex education for minors should be normalized in order to give them better tools to tell when they're being groomed, seeing strangers with no pants on is NOT education, that's involving minors in your fetish. And that's fucking gross. )

The LGBTQ+ community in the US is in a lot of trouble right now, and we have a very bad habit of eating our own. We divide and subdivide and allow ourselves to be carved up by a united conservative front.

We do not allow for differing levels of leftist beliefs, and we constantly accuse each other of being not POC/leftists/queer enough, or being the wrong kind, or using a term for ourselves that some other individuals don't like. A great deal of the bullying leveled against him is justified by others saying that he's choosing to support a party that will turn on him and cause him and others like him harm.

Well, to be honest, the only community I see doing that right now is this one.

The amount of disingenuous “OMG, just FYI everyone to everyone hurt by [situation], I’M not transphobic/a bigot, you're all welcome here 😌” posts from people, who did not read his post, did not link to or quote his post. Disgusting. You know very well that nothing in his explanation or in his actions throughout his time in the community pointed to any abuse ON HIS PART towards trans people, non-binary people, people of the Jewish faith, or POC. You're virtue signaling, you're putting lambs blood above your door to keep the baying mob away.

This is insane. When did differing opinions turn into this? You don't have to agree with Tom’s views on anything. You're welcome to not follow his accounts, not like his art, not buy his game. If you feel that his opinions are too severely different from yours, you should be allowed to leave the fandom without people telling you that you should do bad things to yourself because your opinions don't match theirs (sound familiar?).

But…please. Can we stop with this awful parasocial obsession with his personal page? You can't lie to yourself and call it anything other than literal stalking. It's creepy as hell, and it reflects more on you than on him, in the long run. People might agree with your outrage, but deep down, they're afraid of being the next target, and they stay quiet out of fear that you'll stalk them next and send a mob hurling abuse their way.

To Tom, I'm sorry that this happened to you. You didn't deserve anything even close to this level of vitriol and abuse. You started from scratch and created a character and story that I feel was something truly unique. You reached an incredible number of people's hearts with Lurking for Love and Jacob, and no matter what happens from here with both of them, you deserve to feel proud of that. I hope that you are ok. Being a public figure on the internet doesn't mean you don't have a right to private opinions or even just general privacy.

I'm not tagging any characters in this. I'm only tagging the game because I hope other fans get to see that they're not alone. I don't believe the tags should be polluted this way. If you have to discuss a creator, it should be in his tag and not in a fandom space.

I'm aware that there will be deliberate bad-faith readings of this, or nitpicking of things I didn't cover. Whoever wants to, go ahead and respond, but I've said what I came to say, and I have nothing more to add. My inbox is closed and I love the block button.