#idk why that one in particular spoke to me... a lot of the others i want to design 13 year old versions of too...

[churipu]

Idk if u take requests rn, but if you do, could you write fluffy moments with jjk men (pls include toji, i rlly wanna see him w fluff because there is like none) you fav would be cuddling, but you do whatever you want <3 Also, don't stress yourself when writing i, and please take breaks <33

JJK MEN + FLUFFY MOMENTS (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

featuring. toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, nanami kento x reader

warnings. jjk men being softies

note. i just read the most heart wrenching nanami fic, i think i'm not okay at all </3 but hi anon, thank you for requesting this — this is exactly what i needed after reading angst. i apologize if it took a long time to get this out omg, i hope you like it.

and guys, omg???? 700+ followers? i genuinely never expected my works to be recognized by so much, and meeting new writers here and there, making friends, makes me so happy (i'm not crying) i love u all so so so so much, u guys rock, ily all <;33

TOJI FUSHIGURO

hated talking about the future, but ever since he met you — he rambles about it.

toji has always thought his future was nothing interesting, he kills people for a living, gets money off of it and he gambles. that's about it, so what was there to think about in the future?

meeting you was the firsts to a lot of things in his life.

toji grew up in a loveless household full of anger, and lust for power. which is why he is who he is today. distant, aloof, detached. people tell him he'd be nothing without his strength and face, there is no denying that toji fushiguro has a face card. he knows that.

so when he first met you, all he expected was like every other day. people caring about his face, and only that — and he'd play along although he's had enough of it, but no; you didn't care about all that.

face, money, strength. none of that.

he vaguely remembered the first time you spoke to him: "hey, mind helping me grab that box of cereal?" and he expected you to hit on him after, but you left it at that, muttering out a thanks and then leaving him in the aisle alone.

then for some reason he meets you again, the very next month. asking him the exact same thing, asking for help to take the cereal box which happened to be on the very top of the shelf. god knows why, both you and him just made it a routine every month after that. no communications about meeting and all. you both kind of just, met right in the cereal aisle on one particular day in the month, and then leave.

on the fifth month, he finally asks for your number.

"toji, is that your way of asking me out? because if it is, i'm disappointed."

"maybe."

and then you both kind of just sealed it; you're dating. nothing much changed, every month both you and him still go to the cereal aisle — he still helps you with grabbing the box from the shelf. the only difference was that now the two of you leave together.

toji hates talking about his future. but with you? he could go on for a whole day. he rambles about what he thinks and what he wants in the future with you.

"i wan' to get married. i wan' to marry you," did it caught you by surprise? yes. yes it did, "i wan' to have a family with you, a nice little family. i wan' to have a son so i could throw him around — but a girl is okay too, i can protect her from boys, i'll love them both equally. but i don't think i'll be a good dad to them. i'm scared they won't like me."

"toji, what? where did that come from?"

his back was pressed to your chest as you both lay down on the bed, one of your leg draped over his torso and he has his hand on your plush thigh, squeezing it every once in a while.

"i don't know. just a thought, i never talked about my future with anyone before," his body vibrated as he grunted, leaning his head back a bit, "i just don't think i'll be a good father, y'know?" he squeezed your thigh.

"why do you think so?" you asked him, placing your chin on the crown of his head.

"i just think so."

"stop thinking then," you chuckles, draping an arm around his neck, caressing his throat so softly it made the male shudder under your touch — but he didn't mind, he took comfort under your skin.

"can't." his voice was not stern or bold, it was soft and serene. he laced his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles gently, "i can't believe 'm saying this, but 'm worried about my future. 'm a little scared."

just the fact he was admitting that he's scared about something was mind boggling, because the toji fushiguro? who kills people? was admitting that he was actually terrified of something, which wasn't even the strongest sorcerer. it's his future.

you were silent, letting him talk because when else would he be able to be like this?

"'m terrified. 'm scared i won't make you happy. what if i don't make you happy? what if my kids hate me?" so many questions that you don't even have the answer to, but you placed your hand over his lips, shutting him up.

toji grumbled, he swiped his tongue over your palm.

"ew!" you laugh, wiping your hand on his shirt, "but why're you suddenly talking about this all? which videos have you been watching again?"

"nothing, can't i think about my own future with you?" he shuffles, turning to face you, prepping an arm under his head as he stares down at you. not in the condescending way — he stared at you with so much desperation for love, he slowly blinks, the glint in his eyes never changing.

"why out of the blue?"

"jus' because."

you poked his cheek, "liar."

he sighs, latching his hand onto your hips, pulling you close. he buries his head into your shoulder in content, "jus' worried about it, i never think about my future in the past. but now — with you, i jus' worry about it because i didn't think i'd make it 'till now."

you chuckled, rubbing the back of his head lightly, "you remember that one time in the park when you see that little boy crying over spilled ice cream?"

he hums softly.

"and you bought him another ice cream, but asked me to be the one to give it to him because you were scared you'd scare him off instead?" you ask him, your fingers tangling with his hair lightly.

"yeah."

"you'll be fine, toji." you tell him.

"y'think so?" he retorts back, squirming a bit.

"i know so."

GOJO SATORU

he has to know about everything that you like, he needs to know why you like them. every. single. thing.

gojo chased after you. you were one tough cookie, he likes a chase. he's so used to people fawning over his looks that when you didn't — he just has to know your name.

the curiosity to know your name ended up pulling him in a spiral of this little thing called "love". gojo swore it was just curiosity, but everyone else besides him thinks otherwise, he promised himself and people around that he didn't like you, he was just, well, curious.

but curiosity doesn't look like that. gojo finds himself asking people about what type of boys you like, and when he finds out about it — he tries his best to be your type. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite flower is, and when he finds out about it, he's out there sending big bouquets of it to you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite genre of music is, and when he finds out, he listens to them so he could talk about it with you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite series or movie is, and when he finds out, he watches them all intently so he could talk about them with you and hate on characters together with you. and he still promises that he was just curious.

he was just curious, he kept telling that to himself. so why does it bother him when you were out with another guy? another guy that's not him. not gojo satoru.

gojo asks you about who it was, and when you tell him it's nobody important, he gets upset about it.

"why are you so upset?"

"i'm just..curious."

"it's none of your business."

he left it at that. his whole week was ruined, he couldn't stop thinking about it. about you. and then he finally realizes, he wasn't curious — he was in love. so there he was, in front of your door at two in the morning.

"what?"

"who was that guy?"

"gojo, you're still onto that?" you ask him, tired, "i said it's none of your business. you're here at two just to ask me about that?"

"it's my business because i'm in love with you, damn it!"

gojo was half grateful when you told him it was your distant cousin, but half embarrassed as well. all's well ends well. he gets you in the end, and he doesn't have to worry about anything else — nothing in the world matters to him but you.

"baby, what do you recommend?" was one of the most spoken phrases he has delivered to you.

in restaurants, dessert bars, convenience store, movie theaters, anything you could recommend him, he'd ask for it.

"why do you always ask? don't you have your own preference, satoru? i'm not even sure if you'll like my recommendations though," he smiles at you, tracing small circled on the back of your hand.

"i want to know about everything that you like, and why you like them. i want to know everything about you," you look at him and smiled, honestly, what did we ever do to deserve him?

"why?"

"because i love you." yeah, he wasn't just curious. he's in love. and deep.

NANAMI KENTO

he always orders food that you like, and shares some with you — even if you didn't ask for it.

nanami never expected to be in relationships. in fact, relationships was the last thing in his mind — but when he met you, he just kind of felt attracted. he seeks for your comfort whenever he's tired, and when you weren't there, nanami just sort of drowns in himself until he could see you or hear your voice.

at the beginning of your relationship, nanami was never the one to initiate things because he wasn't an experienced male in relationships. you ask him and he just sort of do it without any other complaints.

but as time goes on, he get the hang of it. what he should do and what he shouldn't — it's adorable, he's started doing things that he never thought he would do in his life, but here he was sitting by your side; peeling apples for you because you wanted them.

"kento, eat some. it's going to be finished by the time you finish peeling every one of them," you joked, your legs on top of his thighs.

nanami hums softly, "it's okay. as long as you like it."

nanami doesn't realize the weigh of his sweet words sometimes, he does it and asks himself to why you were reacting like that. sweet talk is his vocabulary. he says it with no worries, telling you things you've always wanted to hear but never say.

but one thing that always stuck to him and you from the first time you got close up to now was: nanami always orders things that you like. you never understood the reason behind it, and when you tried asking him about it, he just tells you he was craving it.

it didn't seem odd at first — but as time goes on, his whole taste was just an exact copy of yours.

if you get something different than your usual menu, nanami will get your usual menu because he knows damn well that you're going to end up wanting them. although you don't tell him when the food comes, nanami makes it his job to share with you. and that's really sweet of him.

but when you get your usual menu, nanami orders something with elements that you like in them and shares them with you even without you asking for a bite. and not only that, he didn't share a spoonful — he shared a lot.

"ken, you don't have to share with me. i have my own food." you tell him, despite your heart tugging you to just let him share because you were too shy to say that you wanted a bite.

"it's alright sweetheart. i'm a little full." he lies. he ends up snacking on something on midnight, and it's now a routine.

so in exchange for that, you always make it your job to stock up foods ranging from small snacks like biscuits, chips, up to instant or pre-heated food. even cutting up fruits so nanami could snack on it, and he caught on to it pretty quick.

but he didn't complain, he likes it when you do it.

"ken, i cut out some mangoes and dragon fruit. you can eat them if you're hungry."

"thank you y/n."

mutual wins.

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[heartofwritiing]

Kiss me (beneath the milky twilight)

paring: musicanbur x fem!reader

summary: you're the backup singer for lovejoy, the fans don’t know you and wilbur are together, but one duet changes that.

authors note: trying to practice dialogue, so sorry if it is a little wired and doesn’t make sense idk how to write good conversation lmao, also i thought this idea was cute hope you guys like it :)

warnings: short, a make-out on stage, fluff, unedited!

“Okay, someone ate the last poptart this morning on the bus, fess up, who was it?”

Mark, who was twirling his drum stick a few times questioned amongst the group as you and the rest of lovejoy stood in a circle backstage minus Wilbur; who was still asleep in his dressing room. Pre-show naps were a ritual for him now.

Being on tour was an experience to say the least. You never thought you’d be sharing a small space with four grown men, but here you were living on a tour bus for the next four months with them. Most days it wasn’t complete chaos, you all had your respective bunks and areas but a lot of times you thought you’d somehow died and were sent to purgatory until whoever decided to send you to actual hell.

“I don’t know but I have a stash in the bus so I know it’s not me,” you raise your hands up in innocence.

“Why do you get your own secret stash?” Mark frowns.

Wilbur liked to spoil you with snacks to hide around the bus so the other boys wouldn’t find them just to tease them, All in good fun of course.

“Perks of being the lead singer’s girlfriend,” you smirk with your chin held high.

“Im convinced now that you’re the pop tart thief,” Joe added, thumb and pointer finger fiddling with the tuning pegs on his guitar while standing off to the side. “I know all the little hiding spots on the bus and I haven’t seen any secret stash of pop tarts anywhere,”

“That was completely sus of you to say, now i think it was you!” you pointed.

Stupid moments like this made up for all the times you got annoyed with them. Though you loved them all to death they drove you absolutely insane.

“So where’s your secret stash then?”

“Ill never tell, you thief.”

A pair of arms suddenly came to snake around your waist and pull you further back until a head rest on your shoulder. A very sleepy Wilbur yawned and pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder. You smiled sinking back into your lovers arms and reached your hand up to pet his soft curls. Almost instantly he hummed and it mimicked a cats pur.

“What are you guys arguing about now?” he mumbled against your shirt.

“I wouldn’t say we’re arguing, just pointing blame for whoever stole the last pop tart this morning,” you explain.

“It was probably Ash,” Joe quips. Ash looks offended with his arms raise in confusion.

“Oh no, that was me,” Wilbur states nonchalantly.

“WHAT?!” The group erupted into protests.

“I was hungry,” Wilbur shrugs. “we can afford more guys.”

“very true,” you piped.

“well i guess this solves the great pop tart thief mystery,” Mark shrugs.

“Case closed.” you remark.

Soon the argument dissolved, and everyone spoke amongst themselves. You rocked with Wilbur side to side as you hummed no tune in particular as you leaned against him.

“How was your nap honey?” you asked.

“lonely,” he states. “I missed you,”

Your heart jumps at his sentiment. It had only been a few hours since you both woke up tangled in each other’s limbs, maneuvering out of the small bunk trying not to roll out and fall. Still, you missed him when he wasn’t around too.

“I missed you too,” you brought his hand up to your lips and gave it a kiss before placing it back down against your waist.

“you still wanna go through with tonight?”

You knew what he was referring to. Wilbur had come to you with the idea of you both singing a duet on stage at one of the gigs. At first you weren’t so sure, it was his bands time to shine and you didn’t want to take away from that. You’re the back up singer for Wilbur, you felt out of place trying to share the spotlight. After some convincing; more like brain washing you with his puppy dog eyes, you eventually caved and agreed to do it.

Now that it was so close to the performance, the nerves in your body weren’t going away. You had never really been front and center on stage before. Always in the back round hidden in the stage lights. So the thought of being in-front of a crowd of a thousand people staring at you, probably waiting for you to possibly mess up, was fucking you up in the brain just a bit.

Wilbur could practically feel how tense you suddenly got and perked his head up and looked at your face with a slightly worried expression.

“We don’t have to if you’re not ready darling,”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you shook your head. “I wanna do this with you, It’ll be fun.”

Your smile didn’t seem to convince him. He didn’t want to push you into anything but, he could sense how anxious you had seemed the past couple of days. One word from you and he would cancel the whole show if you asked. which of course was very silly of him.

You were determined to get over this fear and just go with it. With one last final hug you both pulled apart and began getting prepared for the show in an hour.

The show was so explosive. The energy of the crowed was strong tonight, it made your adrenaline buzz with excitement. You had almost completely forgotten about your nerves when you stepped onto that stage.

The band had just finished One Day and cheers and screams rang out through the venue. You watched as Wilbur reached down to grab the towel sat beside his mic stand and whip his brow clean from sweat. He threw the towel back down and leaned into the microphone.

Wilbur had told you after One Day was the time slot you had to sing the duet with him.

“Alright, so we have something special planned,” Wilbur spoke. “I wanna welcome to the front of the stage Y/N, my incredible backing vocalist!”

Cheers rang out for you as you stepped center stage into the light clutching your microphone. You smiled and wave at the crowd shakily, you could practically feel your heartbeat out of your chest.

“Were gonna play a song for you, and I need you guys to sing the lyrics if you know them, and be nice to Y/N, shes super nervous,”

A chorus of ‘awes’ rang out from the crowd and you blushed bashfully as you heard a bunch of various shouts of support.

“Thanks Will,” you playfully roll your eyes at him revealing your secret.

The song you had chosen was Kiss Me by Sixpence Non the Richer, one of your favorites. The opening chords rang out as Joe began the melody. Soon, Mark kicked in the drums and you were bobbing your head to the beat.

You glanced over at Wilbur and saw a smile on his lips as he began playing as well. He looked over at you and saw the panic glossing over your eyes in the light. Somehow it made you forget everything once you connected eyes.

Look at me. he mouthed. just keep your eyes on me.

You took a deep breath and began to sing the lyrics, keeping your eyes locked with Wilbur. Somehow it made you forget everything around you and be in the moment with him.

Kiss me out of the bearded barley

Nightly, beside the green, green grass

Wilbur saw how stiff you were, barely moving your limbs. In an attempt to get you to be more comfortable he moved towards you while continuing to play.

Swing, swing, swing the spinning step

You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress, oh

He leaned forward until he was practically kissing your mic. Shocked at the close proximity you kept your composure as you both sang the chorus of the song in harmony.

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

staring deeply into each others eyes nothing else seemed to matter. The pit in your stomach making your knees weak with the look in his eyes as they flickered down to your own lips as he sang.

You rested your left hand on his bicep, the fabric of his silky black button up grounding you before you got too light headed.

Lift your open hand, strike up the band

And make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling

So kiss me

You broke apart and suddenly felt weightless. You danced around the stage as Wilbur watched you with awe and adoration. Your cheeks were hot feeling his eyes on you the entire time. You sang the next line;

Kiss me down by the broken tree house

Swing me upon its hanging tire

Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat

You moved towards Wilbur and he turned to wiggle his hips to the beat. Trying so hard to hold back a laugh, you copied his movements. You couldn’t wait to see all the videos on your timeline the next day.

leaned against his side and began singing together once more;

We'll take the trail marked on your father's map

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand, strike up the band

And make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling

So kiss me

You dance around the stage again feeling yourself in the moment as the last notes rang out. You didn’t even process the cheers and screams as you felt a pair of hands cup your cheeks and press their lips against yours.

Your eye’s opened in shock to see Wilbur was the one who pulled you into a kiss. On stage. in front of a whole crowd of his fans. Fuck it, you thought, and melted into his touch. His lips moved against yours softly and you could feel your skin set aflame.

Your arms looped around his middle and pulled him closer to you. Hours could have passed and you could’ve kept kissing him, but eventually you pulled away for the lack of oxygen in your lungs. Chocolate eyes peered down at you with such love you had ever felt. Wide smiles broke the two of you into infectious giggles you could barely hear over the whole crowd of people screaming all around you.

Wilbur took your hand and walked back over to his mic. All your friends were cheering you on as well, Causing you to blush harder at all the attention on you but it didn’t matter anymore.

“Well, that was a heat of the moment sort of thing guys, sorry about that,” his giggle echoing through the venue speakers, everyone ‘wooed’ in response. “Had to take my moment, y’know?”

Wilbur gazed at you out of the corner of his eye to see your bashful state. Squeezing your hand he said one last thing to the crowd before he had to move onto the next song on their line up.

“Everyone please give it up for my beautiful, wonderful, talented, girlfriend!”

You were most certainly redder than a cherry at this point. The crowd was loving every second of it. Hiding your face in Wilbur's shoulder from his side, he kisses your forehead before having to send you back over to your place on stage. You very certain your twitter feed will be insane the next day.

It wasn’t long before the next song started up and you were dancing along with Leandra. Wilbur gave you one final glance behind him and you blew him a kiss to which he beamed at you before he turned forward to continue on with the show.

-

taglist: @trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @scenefaez @joviepog

let me know if you wanna be added or removed! :)

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

pairing(s) — (soft)dark!QUINN HUGHES x gray!reader word count — 4k

note — i am so sorry for this (not really)

recommended viewing — sorority row (2009)

bingo squares and additional content warnings under the cut.

bingo squares —orgasm control, non-consensual voyeurism (+ pictures taken) and implied past mutual masturbation (dubcon — you’ll see) additional content warnings — dom!reader + subby-as-hell!quinn (ngl he’s kind of a pathetic loser here, but that’s why we love him), m!receiving oral (perhaps too much idk you tell me) + cum play x2, quinn rendered dumb and speechless by his raging humiliation kink and his need for degradation (and an itty bitty bit of praise — quinn: new kink unlocked), i have been plagued w ball play as of late so im subjecting yall to it, mention of edging and orgasm denial, oh and just some pheromone kink bits and a cute lil oral fixation moment or two, nothing to see here!

QUINN HUGHES WAS ENAMORED the moment he saw you.

Three rows from the front. Laptop cracked, but more for show than anything. All your glittery, coveted attention fixed on the cellphone resting in your palm while you tapped away, your lips loosely draped over the pen you were gnawing on. 

You were positively mesmerizing.

He briefly contemplated sliding into one of the open seats beside yours, but a gaggle of your insipid "sisters" beat him to the punch.

As if he would’ve been able to capitalize on the golden opportunity anyway; it took half the semester for him to form a full, coherent sentence in your vicinity.

Ironically, Quinn was far more comfortable when you weren’t looking.

Or, rather, Quinn was more comfortable when you didn’t know he was looking.

He didn’t interact much with anyone outside of his coding cohort and the club team—athletic prowess only garners state-school clout when your sport is top dog, and this was a football school, through and through. As such, and at the hands of his tragic awkwardness, he rarely spoke to women, if ever.

And he never got face time with any as effortlessly beautiful and interesting as you.

Discovering that your large bedroom window faced the secluded side street he took to get home from practice each night felt like a sign. He’d struck gold, and it would be a shame not to put the knowledge to good use.

In his own shadowy domain, he could be whatever and whoever he wanted; he could be the guy who got the girl.

It was exhilarating, really. 

Quinn supposed some of that rush should be attributed to the feeling of unbridled control his daily routine sorely and consistently lacked. He hardly, if ever, felt like an active participant in his own life.

But in the privacy of his own head—and the safety of the very curb he’s stood on now—there were no alpha douche-canoes to eat up your finite attention or loud airheads to crave your tutelage. 

Between sundown and sun-up, you were his and his alone.

— Even if you were none the wiser.

As benevolent as you may appear, he knew you would never give a guy like him the time of day. Quinn was a lot of things, but stupid's never been one of them.

You wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence if it weren’t for your shared smaller sessions on Thursday mornings. Just you and him… and ten other students, with the occasional appearance of your slacker TA—how romantic.

And if he couldn’t even get a moment alone with you, he definitely wouldn’t get a night inside of you, either. 

So, he settles.

Quinn puts up with the bugs and tolerates the bushes, swallowing his pride (and his mortification), and takes what he can get.

He's accustomed to maneuvering in the dark—this stretch of pavement in particular—but he stumbles through the dimly lit street like he’s got two left feet that only grew in yesterday. 

If you were privy to his impromptu audition for Bambi, you don’t mention it.

And if you clocked the obnoxious bulge tenting his jeans, you don’t acknowledge that, either.

Quinn isn’t entirely sure this is happening in his real, waking life; it’s far too good to be true. 

This is not at all where he thought the night would go when your name flashed across the screen.

When he hesitantly clicked ‘accept’ and brought the phone to his ear, all while still palming himself to the memory of your head tossed back in ecstasy—the way it was before the lights went out abruptly —Quinn assumed he’d soon be gripping steel bars.

“H-How’d you get this number?” he asked after hearing his name.

You whispered it so ardently he could almost feel your breath on his cheek. It made him shiver and, momentarily, forget he’d likely been caught red-handed—literally.

“You made the group chat for our section, silly.”

Instinct compelled Quinn to chastise himself, but knowing you remembered that minute detail—a nothing of a fact, really—was enough to override the urge entirely.

And the complete lack of ire in your voice lured him into a false sense of security yet to be disproven.

He gulped and willed his hand to stop moving. “Oh, right. Uh, is there something you need? Did the outline for next week not go through? Because if not, I can just re-send it ri—”

“Meet me at the same door as last time,” you sliced through his rambling with a tone that was neither foreboding nor comforting.

Then, the line went dead.

For once, Quinn was grateful to be so eager to please. If not for that zeal, he couldn't have walked up to the service door of Delta Nu.

Risking the wrath of your underlings was never a goal of his, but considering how quickly they turned up their plastic noses at him when he came by to drop off notes from the class you missed, Quinn couldn’t imagine worse circumstances for Round Two. 

When the backdoor swung in, you spoiled him in all your glory and the assurance of an empty house.

Out of pure exhaustion—and in his excitement to resume his ritual after a long week away—it slipped his mind; tonight is the best and biggest Kappa Tau rager.

Hence the ghost town

“Do you stand out there all night, stalker?”

Quinn’s head bobbed despite the apt insult. Then, he remembered you couldn’t see his reply, given that you were leading him up a staircase.

“M-Most nights, yeah.”

At that, you spun on your heel. Quinn shook like a leaf as you stepped forward. Gripping the railing, a hand on either side of his shrunken form, you invaded his personal space for the sole purpose of degrading him further.

The sneer hadn’t reached your eyes, but it speared him just the same. “God, you’re fucking pathetic.”

Quinn launched into an attempt at groveling, but his own verbal clumsiness rendered the effort futile.

However, his sputtered half-thoughts and litany of sentences that went nowhere were brought to a screeching halt by a single, manicured finger. Unable to process the touch and the wicked grin on your otherwise cherubic face concurrently, he froze.

His predicament worsened when you gently breached the tight seam of his lips to rest your interruption against his tongue.

You stepped closer; he saw stars. “I like that.”

It was at that moment Quinn realized you came straight down to the side-yard...because he could taste you. As you massaged his tongue with the pad of your finger, effectively rubbing your essence into his body, it took every ounce of strength to keep himself from busting right there in your foyer.

Still, he managed the mortification he sought to avoid.

“Are you… Are you humping me?” you barked with an incredulous snort.

Humiliation blurred his vision as you backed away from him; it wasn’t his fault your perfume elicited a Pavlovian bodily reaction. 

You kept your finger in his mouth as you bit back genuine laughter, but that just made him harder.

“Y’know,” you hummed, contemplative. You paused to watch your pointer finger slowly thrust in and out of his needy mouth. Your smirk was noticeably wider when you spoke again. “My last boyfriend couldn’t even text me back—or remember that he was in a monogamous relationship.”

Quinn blinked. “Your last boyfriend?”

The question was garbled by your finger—and his own sucking. It didn’t matter, though. His reply wasn’t necessary.

At least, not yet.

“Mhmm, my last one.”

You repeated yourself as if you were speaking to a child and not to the grown man whose boner was digging into your skin. 

It made him whimper. Your condescension was his kryptonite, apparently.

“But...I know my next one will be different; you’re too devoted to hurt me.”

He wasn’t given time to respond because as soon as you got your desired reaction—mewling akin to a bleating lamb and the whites of his eyes—you were dragging him up the remaining stairs and into the president’s suite.

Quinn’s spent countless hours wondering what your bedroom looked like, and even more fantasizing about what might happen if he ever saw it firsthand. His mouth splits after working up the nerve to compare the reality of your space to his mental notes, but before he can shove out any words, you’re backing him across the room with a devious glint in your eyes.

“W-What are you doing?” he asks when his back hits glass.

Right now, he’s pressed against his standing window into your most private moments. It feels wrong to be on this side of the wall.

Quinn gets none of the bubbly warmth he assumed he would if he ever found himself here. Instead, he feels unbelievably small as he drowns in a sea of poor choices.

“I think a little exhibitionism would be good for you, Hughes.”

"I-I don’t understand…”

You smile. His stupid heart flutters.

God, love’s fucking embarrassing.

Again, you crowd his space. This time, though, until there’s barely enough room between the window pane and your body for his wilted one. You press a single, fleeting kiss to his pulse point, your breath fanning over his clammy skin. His hitches in his throat.

“I want you to see things from my point of view.”

The words seep into his neck. Your intentions slam into him like a semi-truck going full speed. Anyone walking on the path—his path— would need only to venture a peek at your window to know exactly what was happening.

It would be too easy to watch him the way he’s watched you for weeks. 

A taste of his own medicine.

The candy-coated threat shouldn’t have the effect that it does. Given how emotionally charged the air’s become—for him, at least—it makes sense for his body to get some wires crossed; the same sticky emotion causing him to wither in fear should not be making him harder than ever.

He isn’t expecting you to kiss him, so it takes Quinn’s mind a beat to catch up. Still, he melts into the affection like it's the only thing keeping him alive. Though, as soon as Quinn regains enough composure to actually participate, you kill the kiss as swiftly as you brought it to fruition.

He chases after your mouth, much to your amusement.

“What, sad there was no tongue?” you tease as if you weren't the one to ruined the moment. 

Quinn doesn’t find you very funny right now.

“We’re going to play a little game.” 

Your lips brush his as your hushed words march out, but he remains still. He knows better now than to ask questions prematurely. You hum in acknowledgment, satisfied. 

Quinn beams. He's always been a quick study.

You take him by the wrist and guide him into the space you just vacated.

Physically, he knows he’s stronger. It wouldn’t take much to overpower you, but that means nothing in the face of your mental sway. Quinn can’t move because you don’t want him to—because you haven’t told him he can.

And any hope of gaining the upper hand crashes out onto the concrete the moment your bare knees hit the carpet.

Quinn knows he’s a dead man when your hands coast up his thighs.

“Put your hands on the window sill.” He does without hesitation. “Keep them there. You move, I stop. Understand?”

“Yes, I-I understand.”

“Good boy,” you say.

It’s more of a taunt than true praise, but his bulge twitches all the same before your eyes. The slight betrayal announces the internal chaos in the wake of the unexpected praise.

Quinn knew he liked that, but he didn’t want you to know it, too. What little control he managed to horde dissipates.

The delight on your face confirms the worst; you plan to do with that information what he hoped you wouldn’t. “God, I am going to have so much fun with you.”

It's an uphill battle, trying to keep his eyes open and his hands where they are supposed to be.

Quinn tastes nirvana when you finally flick the tip of your tongue over his cherry-red tip, the skin having adopted a luminous intensity courtesy of the few street lamps nearby. Glowing, after too much teasing.

Normally, he veered toward edging and denial JOI content, especially if the voice actor sounded anything like you. Tonight, he’s never hated a concept more. Still, he's making sure he behaves because he knows you’ll reward him handsomely.

You can be sweet when you want to be.

Like right now, for instance. You’re snuggling your face into his body, generously nuzzling his painfully stiff length with your cheeks. Whenever the friction mounts to anything substantial, you pull back to decorate his hips and inner thighs with little pecks.

They're reminiscent of the chaste parting kisses you’ve given his cheek in the past just to make him squirm.

You lap up what you can of the escaping arousal, hungrily drinking down all he has to offer. You do your best, you really do, but there’s just too much. The successor to each puddle arrives faster than you expect, and quicker than you can keep up with.

So, you stop trying.

You’re both so desperate, anyway.

Quinn bites back a scream when your dominant hand loops around the base of his cock; the cruel, beautiful beast only settling once the middle finger finally reaches the accompanying thumb. The pressure is light, but encompassing enough to make him dizzy.

So dizzy, in fact, that he actually appreciates your one rule.

However, nothing could have prepared him for what torture you enact next.

Blinking up at him, you rub the leaking tip over and between your lips. With one hand braced against his bare thigh and the other unchanged, you gently tug downward as you suckle the bulbous head.

The sensation is unlike anything Quinn has felt in his limited experience, which he wears like a scarlet letter. The little huffs that make him feel like a dog panting in mid-July remind him that while he's gotten a blowjob or two before, they were nothing like this one. They weren't from you. It might be unfair to lump those instances in with the magic of your mouth.

You can’t compete where you don’t compare.

So, Quinn showers you in soft, airy whispers. Even when you pull back until only the ridge preceding the tip rests past your spit-stained lips, he goes on and on about how good your mouth feels and how much he adores you. 

And, if he were slightly more coherent, maybe he would’ve caught the obvious squeeze of your thighs at his flushed cheeks and the reciprocal effect your lazy teasing.

His hips go rogue when you try to swallow him a little deeper, jerking forward and sending the firm tip to the back of your throat. Naturally, you lose your grip and gag around him, your eyes watering more and more with each subsequent unintended impact.

Quinn is bashfully apologetic, but you’re quick to remove him from your mouth.

“Shouldn’t you already know I like to choke on it?” your raspy voice goads.

You shoot him a wink before hollowing your cheeks to accommodate his wide girth, your tongue flattened and pressed tautly to the underside.

The shallow movement triggers images he shouldn’t have, bright and flashing through his head: of you, on your knees like this for that jerk-off ex-boyfriend of yours—of you, from a distance and fuzzy, forever immortalized in a single film unit pinned to the back wall of his closet.

Quinn does know you like to choke on it. He knows you like to be choked, too.Quinn knows a lot of things about you—likes, dislikes, sleep patterns, study habits… sexual preferences.

Your bizarre reaction to his Peeping Tom antics makes him wonder what you might know about him…

He’s given no time to fall down that rabbit hole on account of your nose brushing his public bone once more. Quinn cannot fathom how his length disappeared down your throat so smoothly, and it's useless to try, given how thoroughly muddied his head’s become with your tongue gently petting the delicate skin of his sack.

With your lips stretched around the base—and your thumb tucked into your palm to subdue innate reflex—you begin massaging what you can. Until you realize quinn has absolutely zero volume control. As crazy as his loud and breathy moans make you, you’ve come too far only to get this far.

Viscous, glasslike threads hang between your withheld mouth and his anguished cock in the lower fringe of your vision. Above you, Quinn is struggling, whimpering like a lost puppy caught in a storm. 

Lips parted ever-so-slightly, his forehead rests against the frame, limp. He's white-knuckling the historic, but recently refurbished wood, trembling in your barely-there hold because he’s that aroused. Mindlessly teetering on the border of “too much” and “not enough," all the while mumbling unintelligibly between choppy breaths.

You could get drunk on those pretty sounds; you’re sure of it. 

Maybe next time, you will.

“I know I said everyone was out, but I don’t think you want Ms. Patty busting through the door before you have a chance to.”

The thought of your sixty-year-old, strict-as-fuck house mother catching him with his pants around his ankles is just horrific enough to coax him a bit closer to the ground.

Quinn bites his lip in a show of good faith.

“Good boy,” you hum your approval while stroking him. “Now, tell me what you want. Tell me what you need to cum in my mouth, Quinn.”

“I need—f-fuck!” he grumbles, at war with himself. Ultimately, primal need overpowers the fickle social invention that is a shame: “I need you to play with… with my b-balls again—please.”

Delaying his wish, you wrap your mouth around him one last time. You need to elicit that one-of-one sudden, uneven intake of air—the giveaway gasp, the tremor of truth. Insatiable, you fill your throat to the brink. The distinct, thick scent of the day’s natural musk swirling with the sheen of hard work on the ice keeps you there until your vision blurs and drool pools under your tongue.

Motivated by a sticky, overdue reward and a whine bursting from deep in Quinn’s throat—the sweet sound of total surrender—you succumb to your own desire to make him feel the best he’s ever felt.

You lick at them gingerly at first, and with a doughy, flattened tongue. You meant to test the waters, to take things slow and drag out his orgasm, but a string of colorful language tumbles from his pretty, pink mouth to derail your plans.

With the dam crumbling, you have to suck one into your hot, wet mouth.

His reaction does not disappoint.

Your spit-soaked hands rise to his recently abandoned length as you devote equal attention to the pair with your mouth. Quinn swells and heavies on your tongue and everything is throbbing.

Including the tight heat between your knees, pulsing around the mere thought of him fucking you there instead.

“S’close, ‘m gonna c-cum soon—Shit!”

Amidst the drawn-out expletive, you detach in order to aim his release on his behalf (though very reluctantly), knowing full-well Quinn is far too gone to be capable of anything.

His eyelids flutter seconds before snapping open, intent to watch you watch him fall apart.

Oh, and fall apart he does…

Crude and ear-piercing, and over faster than either of you would’ve preferred, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little flattered by it. You enjoy how easy he is—how pliable.

His hips jerk too easily and his hands wander aimlessly, and you can’t bring yourself to chastise him, entirely consumed by the show unfolding at your hand. It's like he can’t help himself; can’t help but twitch and drip, can’t help but whimper and beg for anything and everything.

He won’t even let you pull away to catch your breath without whining. At one point, whether by accident or designed to keep you from retreating, Quinn’s knees squeezed together, effectively caging you in from both sides.

A messy concoction of cum, spit, and tears paints the lower half of your face. Quinn’s chest heaves as he watches it collect and drip down your neck and into the valley of your chest, soiling your delicate pajamas beyond repair.

Unfazed, you leave the emotionality to him while you lick your fingers clean. Once you’ve finished, you mop up the dissenter spray on your cheeks, chin, and décolletage, and greedily swallow it down, too. It's when you delve between your tits to scoop out the remainder of his spill that Quinn just about keels over.

He falls back against the window, and you shift back into your heels.

He rights his pants, and you wipe your mouth with the corner of your bathrobe. 

For a while, you observe one another, having not been this close—or alone—together before.

That’s not to say you didn’t notice him, though.

You actually struggled not to, and it drove your now-ex insane. His enmity toward Quinn came to a head this afternoon. Unable to deny your raging, juvenile crush, you finally pulled the trigger on something that was a long time coming—and for reasons beyond that not-so-unfounded jealousy.

“C-Can I have a head-start before you call the c-cops?” Quinn asks.

He’s so timid, you can’t help but laugh. He blinks down, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he rifles through yours, searching for malicious intent or knotted strings—fury behind an unspoken threat.

You let him look; this is a conclusion he needs to reach without you holding his hand.

When the investigation runs its course having turned up nothing dubious, he slides down to the floor beside you. He’s reverted to avoiding eye contact, unfortunately. Quinn watches the tremor in his fingers instead.

“I am sorry, y'know, about… Well, uh, you know.”

You find the way he dances around committing a felony (repeatedly) weirdly endearing.

While you very well could put him out of his palpable misery—you can actually smell it on him—there's no fun to be found in that. As such, you force Quinn to wrestle with his words a bit longer.

Eventually, you offer him a shrug that isn’t the least bit pacifying.

“You’re going to make it up to me, don’t worry.”

His eyes snap to yours just as you knew they would. His throat quivers in the wake of a sharp gulp.

The nervous tick cracks your nonchalant demeanor. You roll your eyes. “If you’re going to keep watching, you might as well make yourself useful.”

Quinn’s eyes narrow, perplexed. You grin in anticipation.

“My vibrator’s dead, and I can’t find the right charger. Time to get your ass off the bench, Hughes.”

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[lovingtetsurou]

-`｡ cosplay — kuroo tetsurou. ˚ˎ-

cw : smut 1K. established relationship. somewhat pwp. self-indulgent. cosplaying. reader is shorter than kuroo. mentions reader has a slightly foul mouth lol. petnames (sweetheart, sweet girl, doll, princess). a/n : kuroo brainrot. word dump. not proofread. i'm just thinking with my pus– idk how or why but this idea just came to me, popped out of nowhere when i saw this cute elf-ish, cottage-core, fairy-core, outfit in a game that i was playing so... enjoy ig bcs i sure did ;) p.s. reader's not cosplaying a particular anime character!

after losing a bet, you now find yourself changing into an elf costume. it was kuroo's idea. it's a cosplay of a character, but you didn't know who it was since you weren't that much familiar with anime like kuroo was. (ironic, isn't it?)

'hmm, not bad.' you thought to yourself as you looked at the mirror and scanned the outfit.

a lilac themed palette. cinderella-like shoes. a short, ruffled dress that emphasized your waist and long, puffy, loose, chiffon sleeves that are fitted on the wrist. an off shoulder top that showed off the collarbones. daisy flowers tightly wrapped around the neck. crystal-like jewelry hung by the ears. and the cherry on top: a ferronnières.

“knock knock. you alright there, baby? you're not chickening out, are you?” your lover spoke at the other side of the door, the smirk evident in his tone. after rolling your eyes and holding back a smile, you took one last look at yourself and decided to show him what he's been waiting for. “hold your horses, will ya? i'm comin' out. and don't you dare laugh or you'll get kicked in the nuts.”

kuroo always found your vulgar language amusing as it contrasted your demure demeanor. he felt nice knowing you could be honest around him without holding back.

you opened the door and took a step back, letting the man in front of you get a better look at you.

beautiful. ethereal. pristine. elegant. pure. chaste. innocent. divine. heavenly. there were countless words to describe you, yet he could only stare. his mind had gone blank at the sight of an angel. his angel.

well, technically, his elf, right now,

“how is it?” you slowly asked, not knowing why you did. maybe it's because you initially thought that this was a dumb idea, but now that you've tried it, it might not be so bad. maybe it's because at the start, you wanted to just play and get a good laugh out of this, but now you actually wanted him to like it.

your fingers started fidgeting with the hem of the dress, avoiding eye contact at all costs, not wanting to feel more embarrassed than you already were.

“this might not be bad y'know. the dress is kinda nice. though i don't know much about the character so i don't know whether it would've been better if i had put on some makeup or not– mmph” before you could even finish your sentence, he snatched your lips with his, delicately cupping your cheek as he kissed you with much fervor, but at the same time, he was gentle and careful.

after he was satisfied, he pulled himself back to admire you once more since the first time, he got carried away and didn't have much time to take you all in. you normally take him all in.

“did you know–” he paused, eyes finally landing back on yours after engraving this image in his memory. “it's my favorite character because it reminded me of you.” he smiled that adoring smile of his that always got you so down bad.

“and why's that?” you tried to hold back a grin as you got ahead of yourself. kuroo chuckled, pinching both of your cheeks with a goofy look on his face. “because they look so innocent but they have the nastiest mouth.” he kids which earns him a playful (but strong, nevertheless) slap on his arm.

“i do not. i just curse, a lot.” you defensively retort.

“oh yeah? we'll see about that. i'd love to watch you eat your words, or in your case, spit it all up.”

kuroo is a man of his words, and he sure doesn't like to back down.

after the hazy happenings, you're now the one getting slapped on your ass. only this time around, it's kuroo's thighs that are smacking your backside with his length sliding in and out of your gaping hole.

your wrists were pinned above your head by tetsurou who's only using one arm to tie you down as his other is busy toying with your mounds, pinching and pulling. his mouth would alternate between sucking on your areolas, making out with you, and leaving bites on your collarbones, neck, earlobe, everywhere his lips could reach.

it felt hotter because he was fucking you with your clothes still on. your bare skin before was now decorated with blooming red and purple love marks.

despite getting all down and dirty, in kuroo's eyes, you still managed to look so magnificent, so angelic. the sounds you make were another case, however. spewing curses, lewd moans, salacious whines, lustful begging; it's a succubus speaking.

“yes? feels so good that you're finally showing your true colors, sweetheart?”

“ohh fuck me— yesyes right there that's the spot! your cock's going so deep inside me it's like your fucking me to heaven— hnng don't stop please, breed me, wreck my insides and reshape it, fill me up with your cum will you? please please—!”

he twitches inside of you from how horny you get that your rambles get so debaucherous.

“fuck. my sweet girl. every damn time, you still take my breath away.” he chuckles, amused, so turned on, and close to his high which was evident from his sloppy movements.

“shit, so close, doll. come with me, yeah? i'll give you all that i have. gonna fill you up to the brim and breed your dirty, little, hole. you'd like that, won't you, princess?”

“oh my god, yesyes i'd like that a lot— hnngah fuck 'm gonna cum so hard on your dick!” your walls pulsated around him, getting tighter and tighter from the pleasure that was threatening to spill. and after just a single flick, everything crumbles apart.

the aftermath was just as fun, especially for kuroo.

“curse a lot my ass.” he weakly laughs, giving you a kiss on your temple as he tries to catch his breath.

you lightly smack his shoulder, body slumping against tetsurou who instinctively pulls you to lay down on his chest, hands automatically brushing your hair to soothe you and calm you down, all the while giving you loving kisses here and there.

“but it's one of the things i love about you, so don't go holding back on me and just curse me endlessly. knew it was your love language from the start.” he chuckles, giving you a longer kiss to shut you up. not that you're complaining.

© lovingtetsurou  — do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or repost my posts anywhere

[major-comet]

was just thinking about restoration again. idk still tagging for rvb finale spoilers i guess? i talk about wash and carolina a lot pspsps

what the fuck was up with the treatment of matt hullum’s characters

- sarge dies partway through (i expected it so i don’t feel too strongly about it one way or another. at least not at this particular moment, check back in a week and my answer may be different lol)

- doc was actually dead the whole season and wash misses him so badly and feels so guilty about his death that he’s been talking to the ghost in his memory the whole time. (frank dufresne im so sorry that you had to be one of rvb’s biggest punching bags right up until the very end)

- maine of course is never physically there (other than as like a weird force ghost at the end), but his presence is felt throughout the whole thing - except wash never gets to actually interact with meta!tucker (or. tucker at all, actually.), and carolina only does with her fists, so what’s the fucking point of it all. why invoke that memory if you’re not going to do anything interesting with it?

the memory of maine, wash’s friend, who even in the height of sigma’s control still managed to take small mercies on wash. not killing him at the end of recovery one and even leaving him the healing unit. not taking the chance to kill him while he had time stopped. wash’s friend that, after he was just a shell of his former self post-emp (the emp that wash triggered), he used like a tool/weapon/dog to hunt down epsilon and the reds and blues - the same ones who would later go on to become wash’s new family.

tucker got the killing blow on maine. tucker stabbed him, which drowned him, and then he wound up in maines shoes - physically and mentally, donning his armor and finding himself in the same position with epsilon!sigma that maine was in with the original. the weapon that wash wielded against the reds and blues being turned back against him in the form of tucker, now wielding the very sword that killed maine against his friends.

the memory of maine, carolina’s friend who wound up irreversibly harmed because carolina gave him the ai explicitly created for her. he was consumed by the creativity and ambition shed by the alpha at the thought of her being killed because he messed up - because he couldn’t save her. the manifestation of alphas love and care for carolina was responsible for the majority of her friends getting killed or at least seriously harmed.

all of that, and they don’t do anything interesting with wash and carolina having to reckon with the same thing happening to someone they care about again.

- and this is way more petty and i feel weird ending with it after all that, lol, but wyoming doesn’t even get to be a goddamn force ghost. he’s the only one who doesn’t get to be a force ghost. fucking florida apparently haunts wash’s memories more than wyoming does. trust me i love florida, i really do. but unless there’s a scene i don’t remember in season 17, wash and florida never Spoke on screen, due to florida being silent in the freelancer flashbacks in 9-10 until his captain flowers reveal. they all got to be in carolina’s true warrior test, why couldn’t wyoming join the empty chairs at empty tables party in wash’s head? fucked up, if you ask me

[gamerbearmira]

MR TELEPHONE MAN

THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY LINE

No but uhhhh I finally finished the drawing for thus. I finished the writing a while ago but only got around to the drawing now 😭

Honestly idk where I was going with this. Might be inaccurate to the actual Resident Evil AU, but spare me <\\\\3

I STILL HAD FUN WRITING ITTTT❗❗

Le ge i

-----

Alma sat on the worn couch, staring ahead. She wasn't looking at anything in particular. She didn't have much on her mind but...at the same time she did. So much was happening, all the time, all at once. She could barely process any of it.

She looked down in her lap. Antonio was sleeping, his soft snores filling the soundless room. The only other sound eas the creaking of the wood of Casita. Alma gently petted his curls, and the boy curled closer, shifting, but not waking. Alma was glad for that, Antonio honestly needed to sleep. It was best for him at the moment.

Her eyes drifted to his face. A bandage was tightly wrapped around his right eye. The skin around it was tainted a deep black color, and his veins had turned a pale color, a stark contrast to his brown skin or even the black infection that had overtaken his eye.

Alma was staring at Antonio, still petting his curls, when she felt a weight next to her on the couch. She didn't even have to look to see who it was. She felt the weight shift, and she turned her gaze.

Mirabel sat there, staring at her hands. She was still wearing the gloves, those black gloves that she never seemed to take off. Alma wondered why she always wore the., but she didn't ask. She knew her granddaughter was already going through a lot.

The two sat in silence for a long time, Antonio still sleeping on Alma's lap. It took a moment before Mirabel finally spoke up.

"I'm sorry," Mirabel said quietly, so quietly Alma wouldn't be sure if Dolores would even be able to hear her. Though by this point she wasn't sure Dolores could hear at all. The poor girl was constantly covering her ears.

Alma didn't say anything to that comment. Not that she really could. Her throat hurt too much anyway.

Mirabel looked at Alma and took her silence as a cue to keep talking. "I hope you know I...I did it to protect you all. You don't know what she's capable of. And I didn't want her to hurt you guys."

Alma stared at the floor. For a long time. She understood, in a way. That woman---what was her name? Miranda? Was a demon in disguise. No, not even disguise. She was genuinely one of the worst people Alma had ever come across. She wasn't even human, not by any standards. A demon.

Alma hated Miranda. More than anything. She knew it seemed extreme, but Miranda was an extreme person, and for all the wrong reasons too. And her obsession with Alma's poor granddaughter not only worried her but made her even more angry. Of all the people in the world, why Mirabel? Why her family? They couldn't live peacefully, was that so much to ask?

"Abuela? Did you hear me?" Mirabel's voice snapped Alma out of her anger-induced trance, and she blinked, looking at Mirabel. "I-I said that...that I'm sorry I had to do this to any of you. Who knows what that mold will do to you," Mirabel looked down in her lap, fiddling with her gloves.

Alma blinked again before nodding. One hand still resting on a still sleeping Antonio, she used her free one to place one on Mirabel's shoulder. Mirabel looked up at Alma, her eyes wide.

"You...meant well. It's not...your...fault..." Alma managed to rasp out. Her throat was still raw, and honestly talking hurt more than anything. Her scar was still fresh, and the gauze and bandages around her throat only barely stopped any bleeding or whatever that black mold stuff was. Alma wasn't even sure. But she knew she needed to comfort Mirabel right now. "You are...still...mi nieta."

Mirabel's lip trembled, and she blinked away any tears that threatened to fall. Something Alma noticed, Mirabel didn't seem to let herself cry. Among other things. Mirabel turned back to her lap and Alma turned back to Antonio, who was still curled up on her lap. Alma heard Mirabel shift, and she felt a weight on her shoulder.

It was the first time in months, or by technical means, years, that Mirabel had touched her, had touched any of them. She seemed to have an aversion to even being near them, and Alma wasn't entirely sure why but...given the circumstances, she couldn't exactly blame the girl.

And she wasn't about to ruin any opportunity she had of being closer to Mirabel, not after all this time.

—————

WHEN I DIAL MY BABY'S NUMBER I GET A CLICK EVERY TIIIIIMMEEEE

WHEN IS IT THEIR TURN TO BE HAPPY :(((( no but seriously. Like Mirabel and the family suffered as a whole. Hell. i'd argue Casita suffered cause DAMN 🌚

Nahhhhh, but in the drawing (I didn't write it out lmao) I think it'd be silly idea...that Mirabel made their clothes as gifts to try and make up for what she did. Even if her family doesn't really blame her and understand her (to some extent anyway)

ANYWAYYYYYY. I HOPE THIS WASN'T AS BAD AS I THINK IT IS. MORE STUFF LATERRRRR 🤭🤭🤭🦅🦅🦅🦅

[sleepyxxhead]

༉‧₊˚. flufftober 2023!!

WEEK 3: Protective!Kirishima x Reckless!Reader

CONTENT: sick!reader, Kirishima calls reader “pretty”

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

CHARACTERS:Kirishima Eijiro x fem!reader

NOTES:DFSAFLKD WEEK 3 :000 i feel like flufftober has really motivated me to write so i kind of want to do something like flufftober every month but maybe only like 2 works per month! idk just a thought :)

You had always been reckless.

Your family was perhaps one of the most careful and reserved families in your community growing up, but you were the shining star amidst the dark, black, sky. You were outspoken, reckless, and incredibly fragile. Your family chided you everyday for getting a scrape on your knee, getting into a fight at recess, or playing in the rain too much; but still, they were always there to patch you up. 

When you finally got into your dream school U.A. and moved in, you didn’t have anyone to tend to your wounds anymore. When you took it a little too far during training, no one was in your dorm to help heal you.

Until Eijirou.

He had noticed that you were always getting hurt or sick from being too careless, so he decided to check up on you one day after training. And there you were, trying to get an ice pack stay on your ankle. He chuckled a bit before helping you to properly wrap your foot. He stayed with you, holding the ice pack to your swollen ankle and making light conversation. You had a great time with him despite the immense pain shooting up your leg; laughing at his jokes or his charming stupidity.

From that night on, Eijirou came to check on your every night, tending to your wounds, taking care of you if you were sick, or just keeping you company. You became close friends, hanging out during most of your free time. 

There was one particular week when you had a really bad cold and Ei had to stay the night in your room to make sure you were okay. It was during this week that your relationship blossomed into something even more; you both realized your feelings for each other and by the end of the week, the red headed boy confessed to you. 

“Mina-chan! Let’s go to the store!” you called to your friend from the kitchen. “We need some more snacks.”

“Can’t you get Sato to bake something for you? It’s pouring rain,” she whined from her spot on the couch. 

“Come on! I’ll pay~” you urged, trying to drag her off of the sofa.

In an instant, she hopped up, grabbing her purse. “Well why didn’t you lead with that? Let me get my umbrella!” 

You waited by the door, scrolling through your phone as you slipped your shoes on. 

“Aren’t you going to bring an umbrella?” your friend asked you. 

“No, I don’t need one,” you said dismissively, opening the front doors to the dorms. “Let’s go.”

After grabbing too many a couple snacks from the convenience store, you and Mina headed back, both holding two plastic bags of food each. “We definitely got too much,” Mina sighed, looking down at her bags.

“No such thing as too much snacks.” You shrugged as you walked back into the kitchen, setting your bags down.

You noticed an itchy feeling rising in your nose, but ignored it, putting the snacks into the pantry. “Everyone! Mina and I got…!” you trailed off, feeling a sneeze coming on. Achoo! you covered your mouth with your elbow, furrowing your eyebrows. “...snacks.”

As you went on with your day, you kept sneezing and sniffling, you nose was almost completely clogged up, and your head was throbbing.

You laid down in your bed, scrolling through your phone for a while before Eijirou came to check up on you.

“Hey, you okay? You’ve been sniffling and stuff a lot today,” he asked, knocking on your open door.

You held out a thumbs up for him, because you knew that if you spoke, he’d realize that you were completely congested. 

“You sure? You went out in the rain earlier today.” He raised his eyebrows at you.

Again, you only held out a thumbs up. 

He strode across your room to your bed, handing you a glass of water and some cold medicine. “Come on, I know you’re sick.”

You sighed before sitting up to take the medicine. You gulped down all the cool water, not realizing how thirsty you were.

He sat at the foot of your bed for a while, scrolling through his phone, showing you funny tiktoks he saw, and grabbing you whatever you needed.

Despite his efforts however, your cold only got worse. You couldn’t go to school, so he always made sure you had everything you needed and came back to check on you as soon as he could. 

He made sure you took your medicine, refilled your water everytime it was empty, made you food (to the best of his abilities he tried), and kept you company. Over the week, it seemed like you had spent more time together than you had spent with your own parents. You had never noticed how handsome he was, with his shark-toothed smile, toned muscles, and big, red, puppy dog eyes.

You found yourself falling in love with your best friend, but you didn’t know how to tell him. Every time he tucked you into bed or gave you head scratches, blood would rush to your face, turning it a bright red. You started to want to see him even more, even if it meant staying sick. That’s part of the reason you were sick for a whole week: you didn’t want to stop spending so much time with Eijirou. 

Of course it was selfish, you knew that much. You were trying to spend more time with your crush by making him take care of you. But you just couldn’t help it — he was too charming and caring.

By the end of the week when you were starting to get better, you finally confessed to Eijirou when he came back into your room from filling your glass of water. You had been thinking about it all week long, and you blurted it out before you could even think about what you wanted to say.

“I like you.”

His eyes widened, a surprised look on his face. “I-I like you too, Y/n,” he chuckled while rubbing the back of his neck. He set the water down on your bedside table, while he sat at the foot of your bed. “What made you say that all of a sudden?” 

You laughed together about the awkward way you confessed, but ultimately ended up cuddled up next to each other, watching a movie.

“You’re gonna get sick, y’know?” you told him as he wrapped his arm around your side.

“It’s okay, pretty. I won’t,” he said, rubbing your back.

Soon, you were too tired to pay attention to what was happening in the movie anymore. You turned to snuggled your face into his shoulder.

“Screen’s that way, Y/n,” he teased.

You only hummed into his shoulder, cuddling into him even more.

“Okay, okay,” he whispered as he shut his laptop. “Rest up, darling.”

You were half asleep at this point, barely registering what he was saying to you. All you were thinking about were his arms wrapped around you and his fingers running through your hair.

NOTES:AHHH this was literally so late it's week 4 now *sobs* IM SO SORRYYYY jfdksla;jfsda

have a nice day cutie <33

dividers: @cafekitsune

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inspired by prompts from: @creativepromptsforwriting

[chaifootsteps]

It’s honestly so sad to see how little solidarity here is in the indie animation community. If this stuff with Viv has taught us anything, it’s that indie makes it for too easy for people like Viv to get away with being awful to their artists because they’re able to easily target younger, less experienced, and less financially advantaged people who just want to do what they love.

I’ll just go ahead and say it. Indie is where most artists get their careers started these days because mainstream animation is so insular and the bar to entry is higher than ever. Plenty of amazingly talented artists will get turned away over and over because their resume doesn’t use the right words, or their portfolio is good but it’s not the exact thing the producers are looking for at that particular second.

And even when they have the right stuff, entry level positions have pretty much vanished. They pretty much don’t want you unless you’ve worked on like x amount of award winning big budget blockbusters so if you weren’t lucky enough to have graduated from school 20 years ago when the job market was less hostile, you’re fucked.

That means indie is CRUCIAL to the success of younger artists. And look at the state it’s in. By now it’s obvious that people in the community have known about Viv and her horrible behavior for a while, but no one wants to say or do anything. They don’t want to start ‘drama’ which is just…when did standing up for the right thing become synonymous with ‘starting drama’????

I understand being afraid if push back, but at some point you have to ask yourself wether or not it’s worth it to keep being part of the problem. Even if you aren’t doing what Nico did snd outright refusing to hire her artists, you are still doing her work for her by saying nothing. I’m sorry, I know it’s harsh, but if you stay silent when you see abuse then you are knowingly allowing it to continue and therefore a part of the problem. I’m not trying to shift the blame onto other people in indie Viv has burned, but that’s the sad reality of stuff like this. Keeping silent about injustice isn’t the same as doing it yourself, but your silence empowers the abusers to keep going.

I remember when Erin first came out there was a lot of talk about Dave and Ashley. People wanted to know their opinions on the situation, and as far as I’m aware neither of them spoke up. Again, I understand the fear of backlash, but Ashley is a pretty big name in indie now. She has influence in the community, and that means she has a responsibility to speak out. Same with Goose, who I’m pretty sure has worked with Viv extensively in the past.

If relative no names with no social parachute like Ken and Erin can have the guts to speak out, then what’s stopping those with bigger reputations from doing so? Why let vulnerable people keep getting eaten alive like this? Where is the solidarity?

I think I remember Erin saying they went to TAG about Viv but TAG was powerless, because Viv, her studio, and her artists aren’t part of the guild. Do you know what that means? It means that indie workers, especially the younger ones, have no one to protect them. They’re more vulnerable to abuse because there’s no structure in place to protect them. The only thing that comes close is the indie community itself, and idk if you’ve noticed but indie is kind of cannibalizing itself right now.

It’s just so sad. Indie was supposed to be better than mainstream, but right now it’s honestly kind of worse. At least people in mainstream are entitled to benefits, get paid a living wage, and have some form of push back when treated badly because of the union.

It’s just….sad. This whole thing makes me so sad.

Anon, know that I really did sit here for a good while trying to think of something heartening to say, something hopeful. And I've got nothing.

Well, not nothing. I get the rhyme and reason to why certain people are keeping quiet and I do think things will be okay eventually, but I don't know. This whole thing has revealed a side of indie to me, a side of people, that I don't like.

[lazywitchling]

Review: The House Witch by Arin Murphy-Hiscock

3.5/10 - This could have been a zine. As it stands, I was not the target audience for this book.

Maybe I'm just being mean since I read this one directly after Queering Your Craft, but my goodness I don't think I was the target audience for this one. I am cis-adjacent girl-not-woman, single, living at home with my highly conservative christian parents, and keep my craft in the closet. This book is for a cis-woman who is probably married, runs a household, has a couple of children, and is the spiritual-head-of-household who teaches the kids to say their prayers to the abstract Divine every night before they turn on their essential oil humidifier for bedtime.

It sure would be lovely to live in the world that Arin does, where I could consult with the other family members about their particular Spiritual Beliefs (TM) and integrate those into an Altar in the kitchen where we all make our offerings and say our prayers to the household spirits, but that is not the world I live in. If I tried to start that conversation at home, I'd very quickly wind up with a very aggressive visit from the local pastor who spoke at a rally for 45. Thanks, Arin, but I'm... gonna skip the build-an-altar-in-your-kitchen-and-invite-your-family-to-participate step.

So here's the thing. (And I'm starting to notice that this is a pattern with a lot of the witch books I read...) I would probably have loved this book if it were more of a personal memoir than a How To Witch 101 guide. And I get the feeling that this was more of a problem with publishing than with the author. I mean I could practically feel Arin bursting at the book-seams to tell me about how she practices her witchcraft spirituality in her home, but instead she's stuck trying to write about Hearthcraft (TM) as if it's a universal thing, since that's what's easiest to sell. The whole book feels like it's formatted and marketed to be a Witchcraft 101 book, but it doesn't do it well at all. In fact, in the beginning of the book, Arin practically scolds the reader by saying 'this is a spiritual path, not a magic one, and if you want a magic one, go get a book about magic.' Like... Arin, honey, your book is called The House Witch. I thought I was reading a book about witchcraft.

Furthermore, it feels like this book is filled up with a whole lot of pillow fluff to fill in the gaps. Did we need a whole chapter of cauldron mythology that we never ended up tying into anything else in the book? Did we need that? It seems like there's a lot of stuff in this book that was just put in for a page count; something to make the book seem like it has the wide-appeal of a Witchcraft 101 book. But it just came across as... idk, not genuine.

I just keep coming back to how much I would have loved to hear about Arin's own personal practice that she's so clearly passionate about!

Hey, but also... this book was an organizational mess. Why was the cookie recipe in the chapter with the cauldron lore instead of in the recipe chapter? Why were the instructions on making a clay figure of a household spirit in the chapter with the imaginary altar instead of in with the chapter on household spirits, or the chapter on crafts? Why was there a section on ethics sandwiched in between a section about talking to a tree spirit and a section about talking to a blender spirit, instead of in with the cooking chapter when we actually referenced ethics?

-sigh-

Look, while there wasn't really anything in this book that made me go "Oh wow that's a great idea, I need to use that!" there were a few sections that made me say "Hey, that particular thing is not of use to me, but the idea behind it absolutely is, and I should look into that." Which, once again, comes back to how much I wish this book was a personal memoir. Finding the little nuggets of information that told me what Arin does and how and why were so much more useful than the vague-and-generic step-by-step instructions of... whatever the instructions were for.

BTW, I read through this whole book, and I still am not sure of the definition of "spiritual" nor of "hearth" that we were using. I never did figure out if "hearth" meant "fireplace" or "center of the home" or "kitchen" or what.

Ultimately I came out of the book more confused than I was going in. It's not the worst witch book I've read -- [waves to Skye Alexander] -- and I did get at least some things out of it that I can ponder on my own. But man... idk what that book was for. I'm tired. I'm going to bed.

[youremyheaven]

I read your post about Shatabhisha & The Rahuvian Urge to Lie, and I couldn't agree more actually. As a nodal nak dominant, I can, for certain, tell you that lying is like breathing to us. There's just that innate psychology response where when someone ask you or tells you something, you automatically lie about something, not on purpose, but definitely by default. I think it relates to the way that rahu is the head and lives entirely in their heads because they chose to, and ketu being headless therefore not thinking twice before responding, makes it all the more convincing. I in particular have noticed about myself that I tend to lie on default even though when someone ask me something, I have the truth in my head and that's what I want to say, but then I automatically say the opposite (which is, to lie) and I always find myself incredulous about it. I then process what I had just said and then hurriedly change what I had just said to correct my lie. When I was a kid, I also used to lie about a lot of things just because it was fun to see their reactions, as well as that it just automatically comes out (the lie). I never and I mean NEVER used to correct my lies until I discovered spirituality and delved in and grew out of that phrase eventually to my righteous Jupiter atmakaraka which is why now I think about what I will say before responding, sometimes it slips out, I just then correct it. It doesn't help that I have my ketu in ashlesha (where I believe all that trickery and finding lying to be fun (mercurial energy) came from).

damn, tysm for sharing your experience<33 its interesting to know how lying is kind of the default mode for Nodal people. ive been in situations with Nodal friends where they say the complete opposite of what they personally told me about xyz thing to someone else and im just like ??? what the hell,, its also a bit confusing when someone lies about really ?? random stuff?? and then contradicts themselves about it later as well. one girl i knew always spoke about her mother in a super glorified way and i felt something off and later on she said she lied and that her mom's an abusive psychopath and im like ?? (she also had ashlesha placements) im thinking of the time one of my friends in school had a whole imaginary relationship with some imaginary guy and she would even cry about how he treated her sometimes and on other days she'd be ecstatic cause he was good to her?? idk her birthday or placements but this ask brought back memories lmfao its kinda giving Nodal energy imo 💅🏼

its good to hear that you've outgrown it tho!! i truly think everybody can lean into the positive aspects of their chart if theyre more in tune with themselves and im glad thats been the case for u<333

[wherestoriescomefrom]

What do you do to be anti caste in praxis

tricky question, idk how to answer this properly. i'll go for it in as practical a way as possible:

participating in public culture method: i'm a phd student, and yes, the student unions in india have really suffered in the last few years, but i was and am part of my previous university's union as well as my current one. i will admit this isn't a perfect answer to participating in public culture, because i do have it easy. i'm generally privileged, and yes, while it was very difficult going against my whole family during some of the movements and protests and putting my future on the line a few times, i still have it a lot easier than many people who come from more marginalised backgrounds. jnu also had some ready political parties for me to support (my particular favourite was BASO and BAPSA), but i think there are many parties that do organise on anti-caste lines, no matter how problematic they are. i have some issues with Chandrashekhar Azad in relation to gender and sexuality, but on the whole, Bhim Army does some decent work. i'd love to vote for BSP (as i am from UP some of this might be related to UP) but i fear they have very little chance of winning, and the situation in UP is very bet on a horse that has a chance right now. i think this is one of the most obvious ways to get policy changes started, if nothing else, which is why i think it is actually important to participate in public culture. i know everyone can't do it, but i make it a point to go home to vote for every major election. however, i also know this is very tricky for people depending on where they are in life. i had very little agency when i was in undergraduate, but i have more now, so that helps.

helping people around you method: this is trickier because it has involved a lot of serious unlearning on my end, because i was and am casteist in ways that show up, and this is the part that really involves making friends with people who are explicitly Not Like Me. and that also means i have to be a friendly, caring, and generally kind individual or no one will want to be friends with me. but this is also one of the best methods - once you are perceived as generally kind and caring by your peers, they are more open about what they might need, and then you can REALLY use your caste privilege for support. and i don't want to say this like an upper caste saviour or anything, but you can really use your privilege to amplify other people's needs and wants. like a bulwark?? you know what i mean. one of the reasons why i ended up on the forefront of negotiations with my teachers was because i was an upper caste girl who generally spoke well and had the privilege to not back down. it was mostly very straightforward things, like my friends not having access to decent internet during the pandemic and needing extensions on all their assignments, but this is something that was doable and we managed it together (literally i remember as i composed messages on one chat with the teachers, i had ann and huda going off on the side about what else we could say and we strategised together. good times). helping the people around you is also one of the easiest ways to learn more: i have a friend for whom i have done a lot of free editing over the years and it's usually dalit studies related, and when i say the research makes you rethink your whole life, the urban employment market, and also your worldview, i really mean it. and of course, this goes without saying, but being generally kind to everyone around you. this is also one of the best and most foolproof ways to make lifelong friends and i think that's just an added bonus of being anti caste, because it DOES give you a fuller life and more caring people around you. and this might sound a bit kitschy and cute, but i am fundamentally of the belief that all praxis and change has to be rooted, intrinsically, in love for the people around you. which is why this method is the one that has been the most fulfilling for me, personally.

talking to my relatives method: the details of which really vary from person to person, but @metamatar has a handy guide here, and i also really like doing something funky with mine (my parents, i mean), which is to make them follow the lack of resources. for example, i was giving an interview at EFLU for the phd seats and when my dad said i must not have gotten it because of reservations, i just said, well there were two seats total because of major fund cuts in education. its not reservations thats the problem but the lack of resources as a whole. this is generally a REALLY good method because it highlights the unfairness of the nation state in one go as well. of course, some relatives are too far gone, but the least you can do (i have found) is criticise them openly so they don't feel comfortable saying that shit around you. i also really like sending counter articles on family groups. once my Maama had sent some nonsense about the farm laws, and instead of debating him i sent a wire article on how the farm laws weren't even just about the farmers. this is, unfortunately, the least rewarding method, but i fear it is also the most absolutely essential.

the method that is most difficult, which is changing how you think method: i have said it before, but of course i haven't unpeeled the layers of conditioning that are still part of me. i think things that generally help me in this is always following the trail of money and labour in the world around me, and seeing where it is rooted. you'd be surprised at how many things are just casteist practices disguised as other things if you just put your mind to it a little.

i think the most difficult thing in all of this has been learning that despite all this, i will still, 100% make mistakes. the most important thing for me is to always do my best to fix them, and to make sure no one gets hurt because of my actions, or exploited. the upshot of this is that i have simply lost the uttar-pradesh-given ability to bargain with anyone. no, really. i can't even do it with autowallahs anymore. and janpath?? forget it. if the man says the pants are for 600 i will simply pay him that if i can afford it or walk away. i was literally in sarojini once and the shopkeeper quoted 400 for like, a cute little shrug or something, and i just walked away and he called me back like ma'am???? aren't you supposed to bargain??? then when i didn't he reduced it himself to 300. then when i was like okay, and started to pay him, he was like omg you are so bhola...... give 200 for it jfc. of course he also flirted with me while doing that, which is the sarojini-given right of all shopkeepers. but you see??? i can't bargain anymore. i just can't do it, if someone says this is the price of my labour i either decide i can afford it or i move on.

what was i saying?? yeah i still make mistakes, all the time. i just try to correct them as best as possible.

EDIT: i forgot, but one thing that i have found works for me is to really amplify reading material and voices that are not mine. like, you know, to always recommend work by dalit and bahujan writers, to always read more of it as well?? that stuff

[jalboyhenthusiast]

mp review: general non spoilery thoughts under the cut and then a separated spoilery bit afterwards if you’d like to skip it

so when i first got to the event i was like oh no it’s just harry stans here because there was a lot of merch fjfj but i got into my auditorium seat early and watched ppl filing in and i was actually pleasantly surprised at the diversity in age?? there were quite a lot of older ppl there and a significant amount of older gay couples which was so nice to see.

before the film started michael came out and spoke a little bit. he thanked some ppl in the audience (bethan etc) and mentioned harry being on tour thus not here (there were a few quiet whoops for harry lol) and then he introduced the rest of the cast and crew on stage. david and emma both got HUGE cheers :) there were just like 2 questions from the presenter and then the film started.

okay the film itself.

i loved it 🥺 it felt very.. intimate is how i would describe it. it felt like a very intimate and magnified look at a small story. idk if that makes sense. but other than the budget for venice it felt v indie and contained in a nice way. you could see that michael’s vision was on the small moments and the intricacies of the relationships rather than this huge grand story or political statement. it’s always difficult ofc to adapt a book and especially one that jumps timelines but i do think it was done successfully. my only complaint there was that i wish it was longer and that certain scenes were fleshed out more than they were in the novel. i also don’t really understand the barrage of negative reviews it’s had.. maybe they were expecting a huge blockbuster bc harry’s name was attached? and were surprised when it wasn’t? idk but i definitely wouldn’t describe it as dull in fact it was delicate and affecting 🥺

unfortunately there were a lot of laughs :// again at scenes that are only funny because it was harry. it was very grating bc the audiences reaction is what took me out of those scenes, not the film :/ there were no laughs at the sex scenes though thank godddd. just at lines here or there and mostly contained to one area in the auditorium.

i’m terms of the performances i can understand why it was being praised as a successful ensemble because everyone was truly wonderful. there were no weak links and harry held his own even with so little experience. michael’s comment on harry being “honest and innocent” in his performance makes a lot of sense once you’ve seen it. he’s no oscar winner yet but he has soo much potential i feel v proud of him.

in general it’s a beautiful and delicate film that will 100% start conversations (i heard debates erupt immediately once the credits rolled lol) but again it can only be authentically enjoyed if you put Harry Styles out of your mind and just watch. it also really hit me while watching, what project harry had pursued here.. it was very brave of him and i hope that much can be appreciated no matter what your personal opinion of the film is.

* SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS *

okay a few thoughts!! the second half of the film was better than the first imo. much like the book! once patrick is properly in it basically.

the tom and marion scenes were appropriately awkward and the tom and patrick scenes felt.. charged and heavy. the contrast felt v clear to me.

the sex scenes were shot so ridiculously beautifully. not awkward at all not too much just passionate and stunning. i completely get the conversations around it now. their chemistry was great. i particularly loved the little scene of patrick inviting tom to venice and kissing his shoulder from behind 😭 so cute.

julia!!!!! my lesbian girlie got her screen time!! the audience gasped at her reveal lol.

i wish venice was longer :( but the naked scene was cute and again is there to contrast that cold and passionless environment he has with marion. cinema !

i loved the older cast. they were great and linus in particular was almost freakishly good at an older harry. even his walk 😵‍💫

that final scene BROKE me. i liked how the 1950s scenes felt almost like memories for the 1990s characters and the way it would bleed into their present day but oh god that final scene with tom and patrick. i was in bits. what a lovely divergence from the book ending.

oh and the soundtrack was gorgeous.

[bawdybean]

I saw you mention in the comments that you were also banned from the 30+ Fanfic Discord Server without warning or explanation. Would you be willing to share your story?

Sure why not. So I joined the server because I had several friends on there who were enjoying it, and then once I was there, a bunch MORE friends joined. It was nice for a bit, but I noticed quite quickly that there was one mod (Adela) who was... a bit aggressive. A hair trigger for correcting others but often did not follow the rules themselves- and that bothered me a lot due to previous fandom experience.

As an example, I invited a friend, and then left quite quickly because within a single day, Adela had come at them over their opinion on the ability of someone to write from a perspective they don't have (such as writing across genders etc). The mod apologized eventually and said they were very touchy about it because of a friend. Oookay. The flags were there but I chose to keep giving it a try. It is supposed to be a server full of adults (30+ is the whole point) and we were encouraged to act like adults- in the rules. But in practice, any phrase that any member or mod could interpret wrong was worthy of the mods reminding us not to do X Y o r Z because it might be offensive to someone. When I spoke up and asked that also maybe everyone could assume good intent as well? I was shushed and talked down to. I always felt that the mods were trying to "parent" the server. Adela in particular. One mod would tell me one thing and then Adela would come in HOURS later to correct both me and that mod.

Finally fed up with this I messaged the Server Owner Maryberry. I explained that I felt Adela was targeting some members of the server, and that I felt treated like a child, that ill intent was assumed in members actions first, but that Adela herself often did the things she corrected of others, even though they were not within the rules. I further explained that I had had a previous bad experience with a mod in a large server where I was a mod and that Adela bore a striking resemblance in behaviors. So in fairness part of it was me being set off by that. I asked if I was allowed to block a mod, because this is not explicitly stated in the rules but is the advice we/I would have given in much larger servers in case of a mod/member conflict. I also edxplained that several others had complained to me about Adela's behavior, including getting a DM from a server member I did not know, saying Adela was just like this and that Adela had treated her that way too, and she just wanted me to know I wasn't alone. I blacked out the persons name and passed that message along to Maryberry as well, naively thinking that perhaps they were too close to the situation and just not aware that they had a mod making a LOT of people uncomfortable. Maryberry asked if theycould tell Adela I had a problem with her, and i requested she not as I did not see how that would help in any way. They then requested time to think over if I should be allowed to block a mod. They decided I could, but that I would be at risk of missing messages that were important. I pointed out that I had a partner in the server who would relay those if needed, and that there was rarely if ever only a single mod on and proceeded to block Adella. Who continued to ping me with replies, respond to my comments (at times aggressively still), and all that came with that. I decided to stop speaking in the server because so often what I said drew attention from Adela, and with it criticism or unhelpful argument for the sake of argument. They have (had, idk if its still around) a public channel for asking questions and making suggestions for rule changes etc to the server, and one day someone was upset and requested a new rule that we not be allowed to make any jokes about any language we aren't a native speaker of (such as not being able to say: English can't verb, unless we are native English speaker. I chimed in that it might also be helpful to just assume good intent on the part of other server members and talk to them if they say something you feel is offensive since there is no real way to police if a person is a native speaker of a given language or not. And again a rule like that seemed unnecessarily "mommy-ing" of the adults in this server that claims to promote a mature atmosphere. Another mod responded to me, we all chatted in the channel things seemed fine. Adela came in hours later and scoured my ass, with a pinged reply. At this point I did behave poorly. I admit it. I unblocked Adela and DMd them that I had unblocked them specifically to let them know that I did not appreciate their behivior and that I was requesting that they no ping/reply/address me at all. I sent a screen shot of that DM to MaryBerry. I was not cruel, but I was BLUNT, and I did tell Adela that I did not appreciate her response. For transparency here is a shot of what I sent her.

what I then sent to the server owner

and the warning I received in response:

At this point I decided that the only way for me to be able to be present in the server was to be a lurker, watching and enjoying what my friends and partner participated in but not able to share anything myself. But I stayed because it was one server, where a lot of people I knew had congregated and so much easier than DMing 15 people to keep up with them. Then **4 months later** came the bruhaha that was referenced in part one of this blog. Adela broke rules again, it caused a stir and people spoke up, including me about this continuing to be an issue [mods not applying the rules to themselves or their friends] and retaliating against those who spoke up. One mod asked me in honestly in public chat why I stayed in the server if i did not feel i could even speak in it, and I answered honestly, that I stay because i know and am liked by many people here, and its nice to see what they are up to. Another mod suggested that perhaps I should evaluate if the server was a good fit for me since I didn't feel I could participate, and in that context it came off very much as "get out" to the point of other people asking as well in chat. I asked for clarification if I was being asked to leave the server of my own accord, and was told that no, that was a decision for me to make. I chose to stay, and was unceremoniously banned a day or two later without any further interaction from any mod, any notification, or warning. To be clear in the idk 9+ mo I was in the server I received one warning and I accepted it. As shown above. That was MONTHS before I was banned. When several of my friends asked why I was banned in open chat, the mods released their patented "we never ban without communicating why/warning/etc" and said that unfortunately I was banned for reasons "unrelated" to me questioning why the rules did not apply to the mods.

[jyndor]

I see what Andor is trying to do yet the way it portrays some issues and treats certain characters is concerning. They wanted to make a "mature" show but they show "maturity" by inflicting pain on characters in a way live action Star Wars never has. A lot of the pain in the saga is implied but this show is much more graphic. It becomes more uncomfortable when you are watching for representation and all you see is characters getting hurt. They also changed Cassian's characterization a lot so this show could have been about a new character like Din Djarin was for the Mandalorian. -- the anon who asked about Bix

So something I don't care about is the show showing characters suffering at the hands of the Empire or the differences with how it portrays things to how other live action SW does it because I have my issues with how live action SW portrays thing. What I DO care about is how they do it, and yeah I can't get over the discomfort I have about Bix's treatment in particular. Girlie has done nothing but be a punching bag - besides the first arc, where she is the bridge between Cassian and Luthen... and I guess there's no real reason for that, she just knew a guy who knew a guy, no thoughts of rebellion idk. And yes I KNOW there's more show to be had, don't bother even saying that because people saying that aren't wrong but they're also not listening to legitimate criticisms with the structure and real world decisions made by the writers.

Yeah I mean to have such a diverse cast is lovely. But how do you treat those characters? The dark skinned Black men all die, one of whom dies BY HANGING for the story arc of a non-Black character. The others die unceremoniously without much fanfare unlike the white characters whose deaths are given more weight. Cinta is probably treated the most fairly of the bunch but there's a reason I'm waiting for the penny drop. And for them to have Bix there, and have her be so passive in her own story is just ? and then to be tortured as a statement about how fascism ends up harming marginalized people even if they are only tangentially involved in anti-fascism or are good old business owners like Dedra says, yeah like I am not the person to speak on HOW they walk the line between making that point and just doing torture porn.

It was a highly effective scene. And many people are going to have many feelings about a thing, like there are so many people who FELT the racist undertones of how Dedra spoke to her and I'm sure as hell not going to take that away from anyone. But I also know people who are hurt by having to see it and not much else when it comes to Bix. She gets brutalized by the cops, she watches her lover be murdered, she gets tortured, etc. What has she done? Hopefully she'll do more, be more of an active participant.

For me Cassian has felt very un-Cassian-like, that's certainly true. Actually it was sort of weird to see him switch into the Cassian I know and love in this past episode because finally he felt like Cassian from Rogue One. I think there have been moments of that throughout the show so far - episode 6 especially. I mean I've gone over why I think having Cassian run from being a rebel is OOC and I am sort of tired of waiting for a big reveal that Cassian has been rebelling all this time, that he's always cared etc (because that's Jyn Erso's story). But this Cassian in the latest arc so far has acted EXACTLY how I would expect Cassian to act. I'm not saying don't show Cassian as a dynamic character in his own story, but his starting point doesn't make sense to me.

I do think they wanted to tell a story about Cassian Andor though. Originally the show was going to be about Cassian and K2SO, and they were having issues with it I guess although idk why, that's why they brought Tony Gilroy back in and that's how they got the story we are watching. Instead they have told a story about how rebellions work that is very good and might have even been more effective without Cassian Andor - or at least without full-grown Cassian. I think there's more leeway if you make his overall story this season him as a teenager. UNLESS they reveal Cassian has been rebelling the whole time which hmm lol I hope they do because otherwise I'm just going to do it in fanfic for them.

I don't have a lot of time to say much else anon bc i gotta go to work but I feel you.

[rivetgoth]

what do you think of cursedindustrialconfessions on instagram? and other fandom style confession accounts?

personally i don't find much issue with the accounts themselves but some of the comments and confessions are truly cursed 💀

Been sitting on this ask since I woke up trying to figure out why it doesn’t sit right but yk, here— I don’t have any interest in name dropping specific accounts or pages and talking shit on them (OR conversely praising accounts who I think are the "right" kind of fan). I obviously vagued a few specific instances I’ve seen of behavior I found inappropriate from online “industrial fans” in the original post I made but even then kept usernames out of it and even then I was trying to emphasize that all of these are examples of a larger problem, not that One Particular Guy is the harbinger of inappropriate industrial fan behavior lol. I already shared the bulk of my thoughts about “fandomizing” real life musicians and real life music subcultures/communities and my distaste for it, but ultimately every single topic (especially things that are ultimately not life threatening and I’d even go as far as to call a First World Problem) is going to have plenty of nuance and grey area and I think it’s counterproductive and even hypocritical personally for me to start making lists of the Good and Bad industrial fans/pages. That just as much goes against my view of the industrial scene as a community as the stuff I was bitching about to begin with.

I’m honestly a little nervous about the post I made getting a decent amount of notes to begin with because it’s not like I was trying to write the absolute manifesto on Correct or Moral fan behavior, though I think sometimes my posts are mistaken for such because I write a lot and very passionately (sorry), I was just complaining about trends I’ve seen in online industrial music spaces that feel disrespectful or rub me the wrong way, and ultimately was just trying to strongly emphasize that this subculture is an incredibly important real life community for me full of people I absolutely adore and I don’t like seeing the music or the people who make it fandomized or treated like weird quirky characters, with their experiences and traumas not taken seriously. Obviously there is a grey area to any of it, and ultimately I think stuff like memes or jokes about these guys, fan creations ranging from DIY’d clothing to fan art to fan edits to cosplay to whatever else, and even expressing sexual attraction towards them is generally harmless and normal when it’s done respectfully and thoughtfully, keeping in mind these are real people with real traumas, who are not that famous, who can and do look themselves up online and see what’s going on, or have friends who do and then send it to them. Like, I was planning to make that post BEFORE Ogre spoke up about how he was reading comments online about people complaining about the show not being as bloody as prior ones and how it upset him because the older shows were an expression of authentic pain and suffering and even literal self harm and this new show was an intentional movement towards something new and the fact that he’s in a better place in life now… He said that because he saw firsthand what people were saying about him online!

So idk man. But ultimately if you really really want my thoughts? I think any time something is described as “fandom style” in the context of real people or an active real life music subculture all of my hair bristles like a scared animal and my fight or flight response kicks in lol. And I ultimately think that y’all are gonna have to decide for yourselves what you’re okay with rather than ask me, because Lord knows I am not the keeper of all that is objectively right and true. I think some of MY opinions for what is or isn’t okay might actually be more extreme than others (like I said in my previous post—I’m much more neutral on RPF than many I’ve seen, which I think is a controversial take? I just think like anything else there is lots of nuance in that conversation. Idk.), I just encourage anyone calling themselves an industrial fan or viewing it as a fandom to try dipping their toes into an IRL alt music scene and start talking more to old timers and going to shows and clubs and making friends and connections that way with other people who are devoting parts of their life to actively engaging with the community surrounding this music face to face because I think it can very quickly change your perspective for the better and kinda demystify some of the more fandom-y mindsets that these guys are larger than life caricatures to be memed on the same way you would talk about like, Herbert West or Will Graham or whatever.

[theloveinc]

not a vague post at all but it's interesting to see this conversation of ... fandom being dead or whatever bc... ive been on tumblr since 2011 and i've never seen such an interest boom as during the pandemic. and normally i chalk this new deadness up to us all going back to work/the fact i don't truly understand what fandom was like "back in the day" bc i was a teenager who mostly just read stuff.

but at the same time... i wonder, really how much has ACTUALLY changed and died and how many new things + expectations + functions have been created from this recent surge?

it's so interesting to me bc a couple months ago i reached out to an overwatch reader insert account i followed back in... 2016? maybe. and spoke to them just like i'd send anyone an ask, asking how they were, if they had any writing plans coming up and saying i missed them. and they never responded, which was fine honestly.... but what i found a little baffling was that they went on to say they still accepted requests? and still wanted to run their account the same way they did back in 2016????

(it truly felt so alien. i was like... we're people now!!! we talk to each other now!!!!!!!!!!!!)

and that isn't to say anything in particular, but i feel like things have changed since then... at the same this request system has spoiled some readers with the notion they can ask for what they want and receive it... seems like some writers have also been tainted by the expectation that people should like everything they post. it's hard to express, but it feels like one of those snakes that's eating itself ... wanting a certain amount of praise for doing things u "technically" enjoy doing.

which isn't to say it's reasonable to ignore fandom writers or demand things on the other hand (it's not)... but i guess a lot of functions here have changed now?

and tho fandom has always been alive and well, communities can def run their courses and get smaller and more........ dead, as shows progress or end or take hiatuses and interest wanes naturally....

and tho i don't remember the point i was trying to make, i just wonder how much of this is a natural decline that's being clung to irrationally. i miss having a large community too. fanfic writers deserve the utmost of praise for the care and dedication they put into their work. but setting urself up for disappointment... isn't anyone's fault. and blaming people for that isolates u from those you want supporting u. i have no idea.

-

you know, i feel so inadequate bc i have such a lack of long fics and have a really hard time writing them (tho i do, just ... slowly and silently). but this is why i like answering to asks so much, bc the words of others inspire me (even if i've gotten a bit burnt out from my persona). and if this isn't u... you know, u write ur own stuff by urself, great!

but i feel like... in turn, this community is now in a transition stage (because we went from a community where everyone was having fun / getting asks + praise... to one that's smaller, isn't as buoyant or forgiving), and is readjusting itself to fit the new needs of writers, those who want to write their own complex ideas and those who need interaction to do so... and the readers that make both things possible finding their new places.

idk but... i think we're all relearning how to do this. and that shouldn't be blamed on anyone, regardless of feelings.

thanks for reading all of this if u did!! no need to comment or anything. and whatever if u didn't i don't mind <3