#in the latter case the white woman is being like protectively sexualized

[saltcherry]

my hot take on ‘can you use food words to describe skin color, especially of nonwhite people or characters’ is, you probably can do it in a reasonable way, it just depends on how racist the rest of your writing is whether is comes off as creepy. like it’s well-established in English literature to describe skin “as white as milk” and “cheeks as rosy as apples” etc., typically to describe young women or girls. the fetishistic tone is not going to hinge solely on the words chosen (of course, associations have to be considered). the real issue is that the fetishization of white women and of Black women or brown women operates differently. the words used to do it are different. the associations with sexuality are different (y do u think white women who want to assert sexuality often choose to do it by either embodying stereotypes associated with women of color or by directly appropriating aspects of nonwhite culture?). so really the challenge for the writer is not to remove all purple descriptors from their language, even stilted or outdated ones, and their associations (impossible task) but to be good enough at their craft to challenge, remake, critique, etc. those associations. like idk it seems like a very hard task and that’s why the advice is to simply remove that language! however it’s more interesting to try to grapple with language imo. and ultimately more productive because many many types of words carry associations of otherness, sexuality, prejudice, etc. when applied to nonwhite vs white people, Black vs nonBlack people, etc. the language problem can only be understood when you know this and only solved when you work at it with deep knowledge. (I guess the reason some people balk hard at “I don’t get why this is perceived as racist” over e.g. “she had skin like chocolate” is because they are lacking that deep knowledge accrued from reading a lot. related: if you don’t read a lot, and you write with that type of language, without knowledge either conscious or unconscious of those biases, will you replicate them? form new associations? is knowledge a curse, lol?

[gaiuskamilah]

Hey drop the Poppy opinion babe (please!)

CW for mentions of in-canon racism, harassment. also i've only read the first QB book so i don't know how things played out in the second one.

i think one thing choices players sometimes forget is that yes, while the nature of the game of makes it so you typically self-insert as the MC, you are ultimately not the MC and this isn't wholly your story. the writers are in charge of the story, and they have a narrative in mind. the problem with poppy is that so many entered queen b with a pre-conceived image of her in their heads and got mad when canon showed otherwise. because suddenly then, she wasn't the funny just mean girl you wanted to become an LI, she became a full-on racist, classist, misogynist bitch who didn't care that her rival was sexually harassed. in my opinion, to deny her these traits is to misread queen b and misread poppy's character.

reiterating: poppy is a racist, classist, misogynist bitch who didn't care that her rival was sexually harassed, and in the context of queen b, it makes perfect sense. queen b is satire. you are not supposed to blindly root for poppy or for MC who is "taking her down" (more on the latter later). it's set in an university, a historically exclusionary institution that for the longest time has dictated what ontology is, often to the benefit of the (white, european) ruling class. belvoire itself is a mockery of universities, where majority of the people who attend are rich, where they form alliances between themselves to get ahead in life more than they already are, where they hold each to such disgustingly weird standards to protect their own status quo. these old money families and these institutions are racist, they are classist, and they are threatened by anyone who doesn't wholly fit the ideal image of who should be a member. that is why MC and zoey are ostracized by the rest of belvoire - they're new money, their blood isn't blue enough, and in zoey's case, it's no doubt it's partially because she's Black.

poppy exemplifies being raised in these institutions and blue blooded families. she is old money, she is racist and classist towards anyone beneath her, she only cares for people as a means to her end, she is a misogynist who doesn't care that her rival was sexually harassed, and she holds everyone impossible standards of beauty, even herself. she's blonde and blondness has long been associated with wealth and the upper class, which hasn't exactly been a very open group of people. these are neutral statements; i am simply describing how she is in-canon. these institutions allow for people like her to come into being and into power, and to deny her those traits and demand that her bacchanalia plot with zoey be removed so you can continue fantasizing about her in peace is to miss the point of queen b, as queen b is fundamentally criticizing people like her.

in the latest choices secrets: revealed, chelsa stated that she never intended for poppy to be an LI because then she would have to be redeemed, and she simply isn't a character where that seems plausible:

and i agree. if you want to romance someone like poppy, or whatever picture in people's minds were of poppy, characters like becca davenport are right there. queen b isn't the place for it because of the book's satirical nature. i think that getting mad (if there are any people who got mad) that poppy isn't a "true" LI is to not give justice to the vision that chelsa, a Black woman, had for the book.

now, do i personally think stanning poppy is bad, or that poppy is a terrible person? well, poppy already is a terrible person. again, a neutral statement. however, i find her a good character in which she was used by the writers to exemplify everything wrong in archaic institutions - she serves her function well as that. it's similar to how i think miranda priestly from the devil wears prada is a good character in which she embodies everything wrong in the fashion industry and how it holds women to impossible standards and pits them against each other; she is terrible, and that is the point. you are meant to appreciate and know that she is terrible without stripping those features of her character away. you are not supposed to be upset that anne hathaway left her terrible boss behind, you are supposed to be happy that she stopped stripping away and molding herself into an image that conformed to a fucked up, exclusionary image of womanhood and fashion. that a lot of people seem to miss this point and just view the devil wears prada and queen b (and mean girls!) as "yass girlboss slay" stories is concerning to me. big win for capitalist feminism and i hate it.

related here is the queen b MC and how she is postured as someone who will "take poppy down". one thing i liked is that in the book 1 finale (at least how it turned out for me), MC is framed as someone just as bad as poppy, and this makes sense. no matter if you played her as a good girl or a bad girl, she is still someone who works within the institution, playing the rules of the game, and someone who upholds the legitimacy and power of the institution. a ruler is still a ruler and being queen still means that you hold a significant amount of unbalanced power over others. you still maintain the status quo, which is an inherently exclusionary one. nothing fundamentally changes; the only difference is who's on top, and that's a very shallow way to make progress, if any.

another related topic is how queen b is actually pretty good in showing how living in and being raised in these institutions is to the detriment of those in it, which also criticizes the very nature of the institution of the family. i think it also does well in stories like veil of secrets and crimes of passion 2 where archaic old money families serve as antagonists. but that's for another time lol.

tl;dr uwu-ifying poppy is to miss the point.

[slitheringghost]

🤍 🖤

🤍 Which character is not as morally bad as everyone else seems to think?

While I hear there was an era where Hermione was praised and excused by fans, that doesn't seem to be the case anymore, because the answer to this is Hermione.

There’s the bad take that Hermione is a “white savior” for wanting to free house elves within a narrative that literally condones slavery, and other than that - Hermione was absolutely correct for jinxing the DA sheet lol.

Fandom will come up with all sorts of reasons and excuses for why characters like Snape, Tom, Barty, Regulus, etc became fascist murderers, but a Muggleborn targeted by the war in question (something fandom very often seems to forget) doing something remotely morally grey to keep someone from selling out their literal resistance organization for fighting that war to a woman who was torturing students, is unforgivable and something she needs to be punished for. If students had permanent scars from Umbridge’s blood quill, then Marietta can deal with some acne, an action resulting from a powerless teenager trying to protect others in a war.

Moreover, I’ve never seen fandom point out that Hermione’s not the only one who did permanent damage to Marietta in the name of protecting the DA - the adults do it too:

“Unfortunately, I had to hex Kingsley too, or it would have looked very suspicious,” said Dumbledore in a low voice. “He was remarkably quick on the uptake, modifying Miss Edgecombe’s memory like that while everyone was looking the other way — thank him for me, won’t you, Minerva?”

Memory modification is treated as not that serious in canon, and certainly you can make a case for desperate times calling for it, as with Hermione’s memory modification of her parents, but it’s still a violation and this was several adults doing it to a teenager, presumably permanently leaving her memory that way (?).

Then, there's the whole "Hermione got Umbridge raped by the centaurs" thing. To clarify, at least as far as I know this isn't something fandom criticizes Hermione for as much vs. just pointing out the weird allusions JKR made, but still, to address it here, that is... obviously not what actually happened in canon, lol, and additionally it's not often acknowledged that there are sexual violence connotations associated with Umbridge herself:

“Hand,” she said. He extended it. She took it in her own. Harry repressed a shudder as she touched him with her thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly old rings.

Harry literally runs from the office after this. This is meant to echo Voldemort's violence to Harry/others - "You shudder when you touch me" "I could not touch the boy [...] I can touch him now", "he felt the cold white tip of his finger touch him", the latter quotes alluding to sexual violation. (Of course none of this is literal sexual violence, just allusions and symbolism, as with Umbridge being taken by the centaurs).

🖤 Which character is not as morally good as everyone else seems to think?

All the teen Death Eaters - Snape, Barty, Regulus, etc. - but particularly the ridiculous take that these guys never murdered and tortured anyone themselves while they were marked. Clearly no one in this fandom has any idea what the Death Eaters are or how they work, lol.

[femmefatalevibe]

how do you reconcile being a feminist, single, and a high-value woman? maybe I'm misunderstanding the concept but I always thought HVW and hypergamy were all very centered on seeking a male partner.

Hi love! Great question. I think your curiosity offers a great opportunity to dive a bit more into my personal views and philosophy.

I believe that the goal of feminism is to protect all women and provide them legal protection, structural resources, and social power to live equitably in society. In my eyes, a high-value woman is one who is unapologetically self-respecting and sets her life up in a way to allows her to work towards goals that meet her needs in all areas of life.

Hypergamy, by its modern definition, is the idea that women "date up" to intertwine their sexual relationships with men to those who offer more or equally high social, financial, or sexual capital to them. The traditional idea of hypergamy was exclusively referred to as "marrying up" as marriage was the only way women could achieve most resources (like a bank account, credit card, housing, and certain medical care – it's so terrifying, honestly).

In the latter case, hypergamy is nearly synonymous with centralizing men. Before women gained certain freedoms (in the U.S. this was mostly in the 1960-70s), centralizing men was a survival mechanism, not a preference or act of self-imposed oppression.

I believe in the modern world where women can have their own bank accounts, careers, and access to birth control (the latter one is an anxiety-inducing topic at this point in time, ugh), women are given the choice to be hypergamous either while centralizing or decentralizing men.

I believe that you can uphold hypergamous standards in your dating life without centralizing men in your life. For me, personally, my relationship or dating status has no bearing on how happy or successful I am in my life. No man (or lack of one in my life) will ever determine my self-worth or reflect my progress in life. My metrics of fulfillment and accomplishment stem from thriving in my professional life, staying in good health, practicing consistently healthy habits (WFPB diet, regular exercise, mental health hygiene, sexual wellness, mindfulness, self-care, etc.), and maintaining nourishing friendships. Dating and my interactions with men (in non-platonic ways) are fun ways I enrich my life, so I believe this mentality embodies the modern – albeit hyper-progressive – definition of hypergamy. Remaining single allows me to enjoy all of the ways men can uplevel my life – socially, financially (to the degree some nighttime activities, such as dinners, drinks, car services, club fees, etc. are paid for – no sugaring activities or anything), and sexually without the aspects of dating men that would contradict my sense of self-respect or autonomy. I'm not personally designed to be a man's therapist or feel like I should have to include a man's needs in all of my life or day-to-day decisions because we're sexually involved with each other. I have a strict vetting process regarding who I will entertain in my dating/sexual life to ensure they're adding value to my life and there's mutual compatibility considering the type of arrangement we're both seeking.

Personally, I believe the only way to maintain equity in dating is to remain single, which allows me to meet all of my other standards in life. I will never sacrifice my life goals for a man, but I do not believe that means you have to approach dating or sexual relationships from a black-and-white perspective. However, if I'm going to date men (which can be a headache for certain), I believe they need to enrich my life in some way – whether that's interesting conversations, gaining business acumen, social relationships, fun sexual experiences, or just learning about different cultures/world perspectives.

From my observations, women who use hypergamy as an excuse to centralize their life or aspirations around a man are glamorizing regressive/oppressive ideologies (like submitting to a partner or relying on men financially) as a last attempt to uphold the patriarchy as women wake up to the fact that having to do all of society's emotional labor plus having to contort ourselves in a world designed for men, namely in our professional lives, is not the truest form of feminism out there (not to mention it's lack of intersectionality, but that's a whole other rant lol). I don't use the "hypergamy" tag on my posts anymore for this reason, though. I believe that many people are conflating the textbook concept of hypergamy with regressive political agendas, which I will never promote let alone subscribe to.

This is all just my take, so I hope it all makes sense and resonates with some members of this amazing community. Every woman should figure out what approaches to all of these matters would make her the most genuinely happy and fulfilled regardless of society's expectations or cultural norms.

Sending love xx

[thewhizzyhead]

a non-filipino's guide to trese: ep 1

So some of my mutuals decided to check out Trese aka the Netflix adaptation of the Filipino horror comic book series that I keep rambling about here and then since well um most of my mutuals aren’t from the Philippines fshfs I decided to make a long-ass post that basically consists of me rambling about the cultural context present in Trese with fun little tidbits about Filipino folklore. I’m not an expert on Filipino mythology so um I just typed out the stuff that I know and the stuff that I looked up on Wikipedia so um take this with a grain of salt aaaaa I’ll save the extensive google scholar research ramble on folklore present in Trese for another day.

I’ll try to find the sites where I got some of the information from cause um yea I kinda had a bit of a hard time finding the other shit so um once again, take the stuff here with a grain of salt. Also, feel free to add more info if you guys got any!

SO ANYWAYS ENJOY ME RAMBLING ABOUT EPISODE 1 OF TRESE WOO

+ MRT and LRT (Manila Metro Rail Transit and Light Rail Transit) are train systems in NCR (the capital region) and yea them suddenly stopping and malfunctioning in the middle of the goddamn rail is a daily occurrence and we have been trying to deal with this bullshit for years but alas, corruption and negligence are sweet sweet drugs.

+ When the MRT broke down, you'd see a red bee in the flashing billboard right? Well that's Jollibee and that's probably the most well-known fast food restaurant chain here heck there are even branches of it abroad!

+ According to many youtube comments along with other social media posts that I am way too tired to link here, the opening theme is an Ifugao ethnic song called Balluha'd Bayyauhen but with modern accompaniments and I think the song is about a fruit called a balluha that the character in the song tries to it but cannot swallow. (someone please correct me if I’m wrong here fjkfs)

+ The first um monster that we see Alexandra interact with is the White Lady of Balete Drive. White Ladies or “Kaperosa” are a type of female ghosts typically dressed in ghostly white dresses or similar garments. According to legend, she died in a car accident while driving along Balete Drive (a two lane street formerly lined with Balete Trees which are said to be a home for spirits and mysterious creatures) in Quezon City while other accounts say she died waiting for the arrival of her lover; others also say that she was a teenage girl who was run over and killed by a taxi driver at night and then buried around a Balete tree while another variation of the tale claims that a student from the University of the Philippines was sexually assaulted and killed by a taxi driver nearby and so said ghost haunts the street in search of her murderer. There are many other variations but according to local rumor, the legend was fabricated by a reporter in 1953 in order to make an interesting story. What remains consistent in many variations is that apparently taxi drivers would be stopped by a beautiful lady asking for a ride and if one would look at the rear window, they would see that the white lady in question is bruised and drenched in blood.

+ There are a lot of mentions about "lakans" and stuff in reference to Alex and her father right? In precolonial times, the term is used to refer to the paramount ruler or the highest-ranking political authorities in Tagalog communities (so um NCR and some parts of Region 4). In Muslim communities, they are called sultans while communities with strong trade connecitons with Indonesia or Malaysia called them Rajah. Datu is umm the more generalized term though when it comes to discussing the leaders of the precolonial Filipinos.

+ So, Alex’s mom is a babaylan and back in the pre-colonial period, each barangay (which a native filipino term for a village or a district; said term is still used today to describe um divisions in municipalities like) had them and these are basically Philippine shamans and they specialized in communicating with the spirits of the dead. To my knowledge, the role of babaylan went to women and yea people assigned male at birth but then identified as female were also allowed to become babaylans and they would be treated with the same respect given to any woman back then (honestly I dunno much about lgbtq+ stuff back in the precolonial times but all I know is that precolonial Filipinos were much a lot more welcoming towards trans identities bUT THEN THE SPANIARDS CAME AND UM ERR RUINED THAT); also the writing Alexandra's mom did in that one scene with the dagger is in Baybayin - preHispanic Filipino script. I dunno what she wrote down though. .

+ Also I kinda find it funny that the people here esp those who were at the White Lady scene are um,,, not at all surprised? Like yea quite a number of filipinos have their own superstitions and beliefs and all that but um yea the people in Trese seem very used to the bullshit,,,which in retrospect, isn't at all inaccurate fsdfd I MEAN WE DEAL WITH UNSURMOUNTABLE AMOUNTS OF BS ON A DAILY BASIS SO I DON’T THINK DEAD GHOSTS WOULD EVEN FAZE MANY FSKJDS

+ The one that appears right before Alexandra talks with the duwende (the one in the manhole) is called Laman Lupa (which i guess translates to um "What is in the earth"? just um YEA THEY ARE DIRT CREATURES). normally this is an umbrella term for duwendes and nunos but in Trese they are servants of these aforementioned creatures.

+ Duwende (which came from the Spanish phrase "dueno de case" which means "owner of the house") or dwarves in Filipino folklore are known to be mischievous and magical environmental guardians. They are believed to reside in trees or under earth mounds (those that live in the latter are called nuno sa pundo or old man of the mount) which is why quite a lot of Filipinos say "tabi tabi po" or “excuse me” when wandering around a forest or earth mounds as a sign of respect and in the hopes the duwende won't torment them. If the person is friendly, the duwende can also be friendly in return and will bring that person good lucl; otherwise, those who destroy their homes by stepping on them will face their wrath in form of heartless curse and predictions of ominous and disastrous fates. A duwende's color also depends on their budhi or conscience: to my knowledge, white duwendes are kind, red ones give protection amulets, green ones are firnedly with children and the black ones give nothing but trouble.

+ Chocnut aka the snack Alex bribes the nuno with is a very yummy chocolate snack made of coconut milk, crushed peanuts and cocoa powder. They are umm about an inch in length and maybe half an inch in width so it's fairly small; that being said I WANT THE CHOCNUT THAT ALEXANDRA HAS CAUSE HOT DAMN THAT'S A BIG CHOCNUT

+ In Trese, the creatures in the MRT scene and in the warehouse Alexandra visits after she talks with the duwende are called "aswang". In Philippine folklore, it is an umbrella term for any kind of monster so um an aswang in Luzon would be very different from the aswang in Mindanao. According to what I saw on wikipedia, they can be classified in 5 categories: the vampire (self-explanatory um they drink blood), the viscera sucker (the manananggal, i'll get to that next time), the weredog (cats and pigs are also possible but um yea they target pregnant women), the witch (self-explanatory boom curses and stuff) and the ghoul (they gather near trees in cemeteries to feast on human corpses). Aswangs are often described to have a long, hollow tongue, sharp claws and sharp teeth, although they do also have human forms.

+ To my knowledge, Ibwa, the leader of the aswangs in the warehouse, is a creature from Tinguian or Itneg mythology (they, like the Ifugao, are an indigenous ethnic group in northwestern Luzon) though I could be wrong about this dksfsf Ibwa seems like an ethnic filipino term tho wah I can't remember where I once read that. But anyways, Ibwa often stalk sthe house of a dying person to steal its body. In order for the ibwa to NOT succeed in that, some people burn holes in the garments of the dead and put a sharp iron object on top of the grave since those are most powerful weapons against aswangs which is what Alexandra uses to subdue the Ibwa and kill all the other aswangs (the knife alex uses is named Sinag which means "ray of light".)

+ ALSO I AM SO SO GLAD THEY KEPT THE FILIPINO SWEARS IN THE ENGLISH DUB YES YES THIS IS A VERY GOOD JOB so lemme discuss the versatility of tangina-

+ Also umm Bossing is a nickname of Vic Sotto - one of the three pioneer hosts of Eat Bulaga! which is the longest running Philippine noontime variety show. Over time, most probably due to the show's popularity, the term "bossing" then became um slang for "boss" or "chief"

+ Translation of what Alex says when she's stirring the eye inside the cup: “In the eyes of others, secrets will reveal themselves.”

+ Sidenote: The English dub's pronunciation of many of the tagalog lines are um yea they r pretty good but they could use a bit of work but then again I'm really not that good in speaking in Tagalog so who am I to judge gkdkf sorry po guys conyo po ako-

+ Maria Makiling is arguably the most famous of all the diwatas (ancestral spirits, nature spirits, or deities) in Philippine Mythology; she is associated with Mount Makiling in Laguna as the guardian spirit of the mountain. Mount Makiling is said to resemble a profile of a woman and people associate the profile with Maria herself. She is also known as a goddess by the name of Dayang Masalanta and people would pray to her for safety and to stop storms and earthquakes. That's the goddess Alexandra's mother mentions right when she tells Alex to hide. (Translation to what she said there: Maria Makiling, goddess of the mountain, bless us.)

+ ALSO YEA THAT MAYOR IN THE MRT STATION IS UMMM RATHER REMINISCENT OF MAAAANY POLITICIANS AND PUBLIC SERVANTS HERE LIKE BELIEVE ME I CAN THINK OF SO MANY NAMES RN. THEY WOULD FLAUNT THEIR MACHISMO AND PROMISE THAT THEY THEMSELVES SHALL PUNISH THE PERPETRATORS HARSHLY BUT IN THE END THEY DONT MEAN SHIT AND ARE IN OFFICE TO SERVE ONLY THEMSELVES AND TO SHIT ON THE REST ESP THOSE OF THE POORER SECTORS AND *NOTHING IS DONE ABOUT IT*. WE LIVE IN HELL OKAY. also hmm how the police are represented here is umm,,,interesting,,, like i know there are sOME good police officers like the ones alexandra assists but like,,,our current sociopolitical climate + the many cases showcasing the corruption in the police force + tHE SHEER AMOUNT OF POLICE BRUTALITY HERE would ummm beg to differ. but um anyways-

+ Also Mang Inasal posters can be seen in the MRT station backdrops and um it’s a very famous restaurant chain here and they serve lots of barbecue and other filipino stuffs and i miss them a lot God their halo halo is very yummy

+ Santelmo - oki so this is the fire face thingy that Alexandra summons inside the ruined train. This is the shortened version of the term "Apoy ni Santa Elmo" or "St. Elmo's Fire" - this is a weather phenomenon wherein plasma is created from an electrical discharge from a rod like object in an atmospheric electric field. This phenomenon was used to warn of imminent lightning strikes or storms (there is a chapter in Noli Me Tangere where Pilosopo Tasyo talks about that bUT I'LL SAVE THE NOLI ME TANGERE RAMBLES FOR ANOTHER DAY). But according to Philippine folklore, santelmos - which are said to be souls of people lost as sea - are balls of fire that appear where accidents or big arguments happen. In Trese, santelmos (alex's santelmo being "The Great Spirit of the Binondo Fire") can be called to assist in supernatural investigations

+ Translation of what Alex says when she draws the circles to meet with the purple ghosts: "Souls, where are you off to? I'll be entering too, so please open the door."

+ Remember the scene at the train with all the purple ghosts and the woman in a veil? Yea the woman is an emissary of a goddess named Ibu and she is the Manobo (again, another indigenous ethnic group but this time they're from Mindanao; fun fact we have around 134 ethnic groups) goddess of deceased mortals and the queen of the underworld; she also serves as a psychopomp and guides the newly deceased souls to the other side (having an MRT be the ride to the underworld isn’t in the legends tho so fkkjsf)

+ The aswang in the top hat is called Xa Mul and according to the Isneg/Apayao people (yay another ethnic group but this time in northern Luzon - the Cordillera regions to be specific), they are an evil spirit known to swallow people whole.

+ Alex has two henchmen right? Yea they are named Crispin and Basillio and No I still don’t know who’s who and I'm really sorry about that fsfjs so anyways the names Crispin and Basillio are actually those of two brothers featured in the Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo novels (Crispin is younger and Basilio is older) which are basically the national novels here cause um yea written by national hero Jose Rizal as sociopolitical commentary about the Spanish regime here. I don't know if I want to spoil this cause I kinda want other people to read the novel too fskfs BUT ALL IN ALL, ONE OF THEM DIES IN LIKE THE 10TH OR 11TH CHAPTER OF NOLI ME TANGERE (and the novel has 64 chapters btw) AND UM YEA-

+ OKI SO TO ADD MORE CONTEXT TO THE SQUATTER STUFFS MENTIONED IN TRESE (we r gonna use the tiny font here because holy shit this rant is long): So,in the Philippines, especially in the capital region, there are lots of slum areas called squatters. These are dense urban settlements made of compact makeshift housing units that aren't really officially recognized by the government. This is um very reflective of the poverty situation here and there are maaany factors that come into play here and if i were to go into depth about this topic, that rant would probably turn into an academic paper so for the sake of brevity, let's just say that Things Are Fucked Up Here. Oftentimes the poorer sectors are being ignored and left to their own devices despite tons of campaign promises to make things better and easier for them. The communities that live here are incredibly vulnerable to floods, fires, and the like and afaik no concrete solutions have been in effect to protect these people and their settlements. There have also been many times where squatter areas are dismantled or demolished despite protests of people living in those areas and yea I understand the need to make space and the need for renovation but the people should still be offered some sort of temporary settlement or financial compensation thingy that doESN'T fuck them over but alas, we have an anti-poor government. That being said, I really like Trese Ep 1's portrayal of governmental negligence, but I also have some thoughts, especially in regards to the mayor being arrested THAT FAST which um believe me, NEVER FUCKING HAPPENS BECAUSE MANY MAYORS AND A LOT OF POLITICIANS HAVE THE POLICE IN THEIR POCKETS SO UM ERR YEA JUSTICE IS RARELY A THING HERE BUT UM ANYWAYS YEA THE GOVERNMENT LIKES TO SHIT ON THE POOR WOO LET'S SAVE THE USE OF SOCIOLOGICAL LENS ON THIS MATTER FOR ANOTHER DAY

+ The news channel reporting the arrest of the mayor is ABC-ZNN WHICH IS AN OBVIOUS REFERENCE TO ABSCBN aka the top media conglomerate here (that has been fucked over by the government so many times to the point that they had to shut down operations last year which is all sorts of unfair so seeing them being referenced here kinda made me happy gksfks)

[mashedpotittiess]

Arrangements Chp, 2

Title: Arrangements. Chapter Title: A tumble in his bed.

Pairing: Lim Sejun x Reader. Mentions of Choi Byungchan and non romantic mentions of Do Hanse, Heo Chan, Kang Seungsik, Han Seungwoo and Jun Subin as well as OC’s.

All photo, music and other rightful credits belong to their rightful owners.

Summary: He was the aggravating fuckboy roommate of your best friends but maybe that’s what caused you to agree to such an arrangement. But will the arrangement work out? Between mutual friends, his other hookups and a certain romantic interest on your part, this could all be trouble.

Words: 6,500

Rating: M, there’s smutty smut in this chapter so avert your eyeballs. Jk, well unless you want to skip the smut which by all means.

Genre for this Chapter: College! au, Angst.

I don’t have a Beta so please excuse all grammatical errors as I try to correct them as I proof read but I do miss quite a few :c

Tags/Warnings: Drinking, Mentions of sexual scenarios, mentions of possible drug use (a roofie), Mentions of someone possibly wanting to take advantage of someone (While Nothing happens I need to put this as a warning as it can trigger some past experiences readers have had). Fighting, Bruising and blood, fingering (f receiving), slight cum eating, unprotected sex (wrap it up), light choking, pussy slapping O: , some dirty talk, creampie.

Fic Inspired playlist:

Taglist: @a-mess-of-fandoms @dnyad @rose-sereniteeth @for-his-dream-xciii​

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Hands clutching your cool glass of water as you brought the water beaded rim to your lips, it was suddenly snatched from your hands by an upset looking Sejun. Holding the glass in his hands, Sejun turned towards the Wide Receiver that donned a shock expression on his handsome face and Hanse came from behind Sejun side to wrap a protective arm around your shoulders. 

“You look like you could use some water, take a drink” the stern words leaving Sejuns mouth caused you to furrow your eyebrows. “Um excuse me? that’s my gla- mmhf” Your voice was cut of by the fingers and palm of one of Hanses hands as he softly ‘shh’d’ you.

“Bro, i’m not sure what you’re getting at but you all just interrupted my time with this pretty lady” Liam countered, reaching out to run his fingers down your arm that had been leaning on the counter. The movement caused Hanse to pull you further away from the man and you audibly ‘humphed’ annoyed by your best friend seemingly cock-blocking you.

“The fuck man! get your own girl to talk talk to!” Liams hand was clutched in Sejun’s empty silver ring clad hand as he reached out towards you again. “Don’t touch her! I know what you did” Hanse raised his voice as he clutched you protectively and your eyebrow rose in shock at the long haired man raising his voice in such an upset manner. 

Roughly pulling his hand out of Sejun’s grip Liam scoffed. “What did I do exactly?” with a smirk on his lips the footballer continued “From what I saw, your friend here was enjoying my company so scurry along”. Gesturing towards the archway of the kitchen Liam once again reached towards you and to your surprise, Sejun stepped in front of you placing his empty palm of the chest of man in front of him and shoved him backwards a step or two.

The movement caused the Wide Receiver to lunge at Sejun and the glass that had been clutched in Sejuns other hand was placed on the counter as he braced the impact of the slightly taller man. Dodging a left jab, Sejun countered with another harsh shove that caused the man to stumble backwards as his back hit the counter topped with chips near the archway of the kitchen. Pulling himself up, Liam was caught off guard by Sejun landing a solid knee to his chest.

The fight was garnering the attention of nearby partygoers and like school children, shouts of ‘fight fight fight’ and ‘fuck him up’ were heard through the small crowd of people getting closer.

Launching his body at Sejun, Liam landed a left jab to Sejuns eyebrow and caused the skin to rip open at the arch. You had been trying to pull your body from Hanses as the fight got worse than just a shoving match but Hanse had a solid grip of both of his arms around your body and your side pinned against the counter.

With a harsh sounding jab-cross from Sejuns left and right fists, Liam was sent backwards again. Before either man could land another blow, the crowd that had now doubled in size parted slightly as Heo Chan and who you knew as Seungwoo followed by Byungchan burst through the archway. The first two men wrapped their arms around either one of Liams and Byungchan stepped in front of the Grey haired man.

What looked like the rest of the frat starts doing damage control as they tried their best to ‘herd’ the tipsy partygoers away from the scene with ‘BODY SHOTS!’ on the Sorority next doors members.

“The fuck is going on?!” Seungwoo raised his voice and Liam shrugged, a ‘this guy fucking started it man’ leaving his lips and he try to launch himself yet again at the bored looking Sejun. Hanse had stepped a foot away from the counter he had you practically pinned against and you used the opportunity to push against his body with your left elbow knowing he’d release you. You had won every wrestling match the two of you had over the last mini bag of hot cheetos and you knew the only reason he had such a good hold on you while the fight was happening was because your body had been anchored against the hard counter.

As your body pulled away from Hanses grip, Sejun spoke up with a serious tone in his voice. “He tried to Roofie her, Hanse saw it.” Liams eyes went wide and he stopped his movements in trying to launch at the man in front of him. “I..No he’s fucking crazy, We were just talking and he came in swinging!” Liam shouted and Chan looked towards Seungwoo as Sejun addressed his earlier question.

“Sejuns right, he dropped a white pill in y/ns water when she was getting something from the fridge. I seriously doubt she knew what he was doing.” Liams head shook as he denied the accusation from Hanse. “He probably has more in his pockets” Sejun suggested and gestured with a jut of his chin towards Chan who’s arm was still wrapped around the man he had been fighting.

Pulling Liams plaid shirt away from his white t shirt underneath, Chan reached in as Seungwoo held Liam still and pulled a small transparent bag from the man in questions inside breast pocket. As Sejun suggested, inside the bag was two small white circular pills.

Looking down at the glass to your right that you had almost drank, you felt your stomach drop at what could have happened had your best friend and Sejun not stopped it.

“Whatever man! She wanted it! I was just helping her get comfortable! Come on, you know how girls ar-“ Before he could continue your two best friends and Sejun launched themselves at him and the two men that had been holding him pulled away disgusted by his words. 

No punches could be landed as you rushed forwards and shouted “STOP” as the three men in front of you turned around seemingly confused as to why you would stop them from giving Liam what he deserved.

“y/n he wa-“ Cutting Hanse off you stepped in front of Liam and pulled your first back before landing in on his jaw. The pain radiating in your hand let you know he’d need stitches or more. Launching your body on his you landed another punch this time to his cheek. “You fucking disgusting excuse for a human!” You shouted as you landed yet another hit his face before your body was being lifted off of his. 

To say Liam was in shock when you hit him was an understatement, when you launched your body onto his trapping his hands under his own weight he had still been in shock but seeing your body pulled off of his and feeling the pain radiating from his face he pulled his right hand back and in a split second landed it heavily on your cheek in something closer to an open handed punch than a slap.

Liams body was hastily pulled away from his crouching position as Seungwoo held him up by his collar against the wall. “Piece of shit, get your ass out of this house. VTN house members have never and WILL never drug anyone or harm a woman in any way. As much as I’d love to have her further kick your disgusting ass or hell I’d love to give you what you deserve, I don’t think any of us need a case. I will be letting couch James know about what happened as well as the schools President. I can guarantee your expulsion, now you have five fucking minutes to leave out that door before I rethink the possibility of catching a case.”

Releasing Liam from his hold, you all watched as Liam hobbled his way out of the kitchen and through the still there partygoers towards the front door clutching his face with a string of curses leaving his swollen and bloodied lips. 

“y/n right? I’m so beyond sorry this happened. His actions were inexcusable and as the leader of this frat I assure you I will make sure justice is served and after the proper authorities are aware he will never set foot on campus grounds” With an upset tick in his jaw, Seungwoo looked you straight in the eyes with his chocolate brown ones and you knew he wouldn’t go back on what he said, you could feel his anger radiating off of his body in waves.

Nodding your head you accepted his apology that you insisted he didn’t need to make as it was not his fault. The arms that were still holding your body after pulling you off of Liam earlier loosened and you turned your body to face them. Byungchan and Sejun had both been holding you and before you could thank Sejun for what he had done, you were being pulled into a tight hold by Hanse and Byungchan, the latter apologizing for showing up to the scene late and both apologizing for not being there to prevent it from happening.

“I’m fine, I’m honestly just glad he tried to do this to me and not someone else who was here along without amazing friends to stop him. That piece of shit deserves to rot, I can’t help but think about how he probably has done this before and a woman out there went through that” With a shake of your head you felt Hanse burrow his head further into your shoulder.

“Lets get you home and cleaned up, there’s no way were letting you stay anywhere but at out apartment” Hanse said as your best friends pulled back and you swore you saw him rub at a tear in his eyes. Byungchan nodded in agreement at you staying over and you shook your head “I’ll stay but Byunnie I need you to continue to spend time with Emi tonight, I don’t want you leaving her to go take care of me. You deserve to be happy” Your heart clenched a little as he shook his head no but as you steeled your gaze and hit his shoulder telling him to get his girl he finally nodded knowing you wouldn’t stay at the apartment if he didn’t comply with your wishes. 

Emi had been standing in the crowd watching as everything happened, worry over the situation causing her face to frown. Seeing Byungchan pull you in for a hug she walked forward towards your bodies wanting to express her concern for you as well but she didn’t know how to word it. “y/n i..if you want to talk i’m here. I know we don’t really know each other but I saw what happened and I’m so sorry..” With her head downturned towards her pale yellow sneaker you placed your hand on her shoulder causing her to look up at you as you felt the genuine concern in her voice. “Hey, it’s okay. Nothing really happened and you don’t need to be sorry. I appreciate your offer but i think tonight i’m just going to go back and stay with Hanse. The night is still young! So enjoy time with Byungchan here okay?” you smiled and she nodded pulling you in for a slight hug which surprised you. 

Pulling back, her and Byungchan walked you and Hanse to the front door. As you pulled the door open your body was encircled by a pair of arms you immediately recognized as Haleys. “What happened?! I was in the bathroom talking my roommate on how to work our new coffee pot and when I came back down I heard everyone talking about how Liam and Sejun were fighting and how you were in the middle and that Hanse had you in a chokehold!!” Laughing overtook your body at the second part and the seriousness in her voice, causing Haley to look at you like you were insane.

“Omg your cheek is swollen, y/n you have blood on the side of your lip! what the fuck?!” Pulling her arms away from you you shook your head. “I’ll tell you tomorrow okay? I just want to get out of here.”

“I’ll come with, I don’t want you alone” Leaning in to hug your friend you shook your head. “I won’t be alone, Hanse will be with me and no he didn’t have me in a chokehold. Please just stay and have fun okay? Chan is here and Byunnie is staying too. I’ll call you tomorrow” With a dejected look on her bronzed face, Haley nodded knowing how stubborn you were. With an I love you leaving her lips you bid your gorgeous friend goodbye and followed Hanse to his car.

Stepping out of the bathroom in one of Hanses plain white cotton crewneck t shirts and a too big pair of navy blue basketball shorts that you tied and folded over to fit properly, you headed to the couch that Hanse was already occupying in his pajamas.

Sitting next to him you let his left arm wrap around your shoulder and he browsed the Netflix  comedy movies with the remote in his right hand. “Thank you” was all you uttered as he landed on 50 first dates knowing it would make you both smile. “I love you, don’t thank me. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with you earlier then this would have all never happened” Biting at his lip ring you knew your best friend was upset with himself and you shook your head adamantly. “Hanse, stop. You stopped Liam and were there for me when I couldn’t see what was happening. Thats all that matters” Pulling the blanket over your legs you saw him softly nod as his inky black hair bobbed slightly.

“Sese, you need to wake up and get in bed” your hands had been planted on Hanses shoulder, lightly shaking him. The movie had finished and he was snoring loudly with his neck bent slightly backwards propping him at what looked like an uncomfortable angle against the back of the couch.

“He had…co…cocococonut boobs on” Hanse mumbled about the movie in his sleep ridden state as you changed tactics, shaking him harder and flicking an ice cube at his forehead. With a jolt from the cold cube being flung against his warm forehead he sat up and opened his eyes to you standing in front of him with a glass of water in your left hand and your right settled on his shoulder.

“Why’s you do that? Sooooo cold” Pulling the blanket up to his shoulder he shivered exaggeratedly which earned a smile from you and a roll of your eyes. “I did what I had to do to wake you up so you could get to bed. Your ass was snoring hella loud and I think I see drool.” 

Wiping at his mouth your best friend stood up, stretches his limbs as he wrapped the blanket around his shoulder and let out a loud yawn. Hugging you goodnight he headed to his bedroom and left you alone in the dim living room.

Scrolling though netflix you settled back against the couch cushions and clicked on the first episode of gossip girl to occupy your mind while you scrolled through instagram. Pictures of Byungchan with Emi loaded on his page and you softly sighed. You truly wanted him to be happy but it still stung and you knew it would for a little while longer.

Your thumb was scrolling upward as you mindlessly checked out posts from random people you followed when the sound of the front door being opened was heard. You knew it couldn’t have been Byungchan as he had just posted a picture of him and Emi on a couch that you assumed was Emi’s, their bodies entangled in an innocent looking cuddle. Preparing yourself for Sejun and one of his conquests to pass your form on the couch and moan the night away, you sighed deeply.

The sound of the fridge being opened was heard followed by the clinking of a glass against the countertop. Furrowing your brows you waited for the voice of a woman or possible giggle but the only sound you could hear was that of water filling a glass.

Your curiosity was piqued (by that you meant ‘your ass was nosy’) Standing up you grabbed your empty glass (so it looked like you had a reason for going to the kitchen) and walked your way to the kitchen.

Standing against the counter next to the fridge with a glass in his left hand and the pitcher of purified water in his right hand stood Sejun, his gaze snapping up towards your form as you entered.

You hadn’t gotten to thank him for doing what he did earlier and as you took in his slightly bruising cheek, his bottom lip that had been swollen and his split eyebrow that had already started healing your eyes went wide. You had seen the fight but hadn’t gotten a really good look at the grey haired mans face and the damage that Liam had done. 

“I..thank you, I’m sorry” you mumbled softly as you stepped closer to the sink and placed your glass inside of the metal basin. “Why are you apologizing? You weren’t the one who hit me.” Your jaw clenched and you turned your body to face him. “You were hit because of ME! so let me apologize. If you hadn’t gotten involved you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Shaking his head he lightly laughed and sent you a dazzling dimpled smile. “I’m fine, I got into the fight on my own and I would do it again. I don’t like men who think it’s okay to violently lay a hand on women, even more so when that woman is one of my friends.” Your eyebrows shot up at his last statement. You hated half of his ‘sexcapades’ but him as a person hadn’t really don’t anything to make you fully hate him now that you thought about it. Sure he got on your nerves and had no tact, making you want to sometimes while that smirk he always donned off of his face. But you didn’t fully hate him. Friend was a bit of a stretch for you but frenemy you could maybe get behind.

“I don’t know if I would consider us friends. Maybe frenemies? or acquaintances?” You smirked and his upper lip curled up, his mouth soon resembling yours. “Fine frenemy world, makes me sound cooler anyways. Also, stop looking at me like I got the beatdown of my life, I literally didn’t even get hit that hard and Liam is worse off. I’ve been hit a-lot harder and my eyebrow is already healing. So stop worrying you pretty little head.” Huffing out a breath of air you turned to grab a wash cloth as he gestured to his eyebrow when he talked about it and as he finished what he was saying you dampened the cloth with cold water and maybe your way to stand in front of his still leaning form.

You had to admit from this close up he was significantly taller than you were. Clutching the cloth in your right hand you brought it up to his eyebrow and lightly patted in soft motions not wanting to rub and disrupt the scabbing wound. 

Sejun watched your face as you worked on his eyebrow. “y/n you don’t have t-“ Your free hand came up to seal his mouth shut with your palm and you instantly regretted the action but didn’t want to pull away and show him how flustered you were by the press of his plump lips against the palm of your hand and his woodsy scent mixed with smelt like cashmere that invaded your senses as you inhaled.

Dabbing the still damp cloth against his eyebrow you kept your eyes on the hairs of his brow not wanting to look him in the eye. When the crusty rust colored blood had been fully cleaned from the closing wound you flipped the cloth around to a clean side and pressed it softly against the soft bruising of pink and red on his cheek to hopefully help the swelling subside so it hopefully wouldn’t turn into a nastier shade of deep purple and green in the morning.

“I’m surprised a woman isn’t clinging to your body right now” You joked trying to lighten the mood. “A woman is with me right now, I wouldn’t say she’s clinging but I do have one in front of me.” you felt his lips mumble against your palm and you quickly retracted your hand that you had forgotten was still there. Gulping hard you focused your attention to his cheek. 

“I mean a hot chick” You tried to once against joke. A larger hand wrapped itself delicately around your wrist that held the damp towel and your gaze snapped up to meet Sejun’s grey eyes. “You are a ‘hot’ chick.”

“I..I meant like a hookup. I’m sure you had your pick of women at the party tonight..So I just surprised one isn’t with you right now…haha..maybe you already had your fill at the party, hopefully not in the bathroom cause that’s just unsanitary an-“ Sejuns free hand clamped itself over your mouth preventing your ramble of going on any longer.

“While I have hooked up in a bathroom at a party in the VTN house,” Cocking his eyebrow at your face "don’t judge me it’s the cleanest frat bathroom I’ve ever seen. I didn’t hook up at the party, I actually went upstairs with Seungwoo and played a few rounds of Fifa on his ps4. We both weren’t really in the partying mood anymore and he wanted to get started on typing out his message on Liam’s behavior and what went down tonight. Woo also wanted to make sure I didn’t ‘do anything stupid’ as he put it. Like go after Liam, as tempting as that was.”

You really don’t know what compelled you to do do what you did next. You couldn’t blame it on the alcohol you had consumed earlier as you were stone cold sober now. But something about the way his face contorted as he talked about Liam mixed with his gaze roving your slightly parted lips when he moved his palm away just made you feel a familiar tingling in your belly.

Surging forward, Sejun had just barely finished his sentence when you captured his lips in your own. A few seconds passed before you realized your face was inches from Sejuns and your lips were pressed against his. Pulling back rapidly, your eyes widened into saucers and you prepared your escape to Hanses room to hide from the man in front of you and to pretend you hadn’t just done what you did.

Before you could turn and side step away, Sejun gripped the side of your face in one of his large palms and pulled your face towards him. Looking from your eyes down to your lips you felt the heat in his gaze as he planted his mouth down onto yours.

You really didn’t know why but you found yourself reciprocating the kiss. Moving your lips against his, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as the damp cloth fell to the ground in a soft thud and you parted your lips for him as he flicked his tongue against the seam of your lips. Sejun’s free hand went to the small of your back and pressed your bodies together as he slipped his tongue into the entrance to your mouth.

Tongues fighting for dominance, you felt the kiss start to shift into a searing want that had you gripping his hair for purchase earning a low groan tumbling from his lips. Sinking his teeth into your bottom lip, his hand that had been on your cheek moved down to clutch the side of your neck.

Trailing a hand down from his neck, your nails lightly scratched against the top of his wide back under his leather jacket and shirt he had on. Fingers pressed into your lower back as his lips moved down to trail over your jaw making you tilt your head back to give him better access to your neck that he was starting to ghost his plump lips against.

You could feel the coldness of his rings against the side of your neck as his hand remained there while he kissed over the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You couldn’t help the soft whine that escaped your lips as his lips attached themselves over your skin, sucking in harshly causing a tingle to make its way up our spine.

Sejun let out a low groan at the whine that made its way out of your lips. Sliding both of his hands over your hips, he flipped you both around and pressed your body against the counter.

Lips attaching themselves back onto your neck, he continued to suck on different spots careful not to leave any marks. Your hand made its way down and pulled at the hem of his shirt. Slipping your fingers under the jersey material, you grazed the tips of your fingernails against his lower abs causing Sejun to pull away from the juncture of your neck.

You took in his heated gaze and kiss-swollen lips and you had to admit this man was fucking sexy. Pulling your hand from under his shirt he held it in his grip. “Y/n if you want to keep going i’m more than willing to continue, but if you want to stop let me know now before we go any further. You wen’t through something traumatic earlier and I need to make sure you not only know what you’re doing but you want to do this.” At the mention of the word trauma, his finger brushed over the slight bruising on your cheek.

You knew you should’ve stopped but you needed him and his asking of permission just solidified the fact that you weren’t making a bad decision when you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in response.

With a kiss that was increasing in fervor, Sejuns hand that wasn’t clamped over the side of your neck gripped one of your wrists and led both of your bodies towards where you knew to be his room. Lips never leaving yours even when you both tumbled through his now open door.

Hooking a foot behind him, Sejun lightly kicked his door closed careful not to make it slam. Large hands made their way under the backs of your thighs as you were hauled up and lightly tossed onto a soft bed while the larger man stood in front of the bed pulling his jacket off of his wide shoulders. 

You tried your best to suppress the sound that threatened to leave your throat with a bite to you bottom lip as his fingers slipped under his t-shirt and pulled it off of his sculpted frame. Deft fingers slipped under his belt loop as he successfully loosened the prongs. 

Sejuns eyes never left yours as he undressed himself. Your eyes were filled with lust and your red swollen lips that your teeth hand pressed against caused his growing bulge to twitch slightly. You looked like sex and he hadn’t even gotten started, it excited him for how you must look with that post sex haze. 

Climbing his body on top of yours, a plump set of lips attached themselves to your neck once again and you arched your back as his fingers slipped under the material of Hanses loose shirt. 

Fingers making their way up your abdomen towards your chest and splaying themselves between your breasts felt hot against your skin. Sitting up slightly, Sejun pulled his lips from your skin. A look asking for permission graced his features as his fingers made their way back to the bottom hem of the shirt and pulled up a tad. A nod of your head was all he needed before he pulled the cotton fabric over your head and tossed it somewhere in the dark room that was only illuminated by the city lights through his semi sheer curtains.

The cold air that greeted your skin felt like ice as his fingers plucked against the hook of your bra causing the straps to sag over your shoulders as the cups no longer sat like a second skin against your breasts. 

You hadn’t even gotten to feel embarrassed before his lips attached themselves to your right nipple that had hardened from a mixture of cold air and arousal. Fingers reached towards his head as you then tugged the strands between them.

A low growl grumbled from his throat as his teeth grazed over the hardened bud and you felt your body twitch at the contact. Fingers pinched at your bud that hadn’t been between Sejuns lips and you whined at the sensation.

You could feel his hardened member against your thigh as he switched nipples, a suction like sound leaving his lips as he sucked in a harsh motion. His unoccupied hand trailed its way down to the bottoms you had on and he played with the waistband by softly snapping it against your skin causing you to pull harshly on his locks. “Tease”. Chuckling at your name calling, Sejun smirked against your chest as he popped your nipple out of his mouth and flicked his tongue over the reddening nub.

Sejuns fingers moved under the waistband and over the fabric of your wet panties and you arched into the press of his fingertips. “Someones wet”, rolling your eyes as his comment you huffed out a breath of air and before you could mumble a response, he pressed the pads of his fingers hard against your hardened nub and lightly shook them in a left to right motion.

Pulling his fingers from your bottoms, he raised your knees upwards and tugged the material of your shorts and panties down your legs. Snapping your thighs shut you shivered as the air blown from his fan landed on your wet core.

Your legs were immediately pulled apart by your ankles “I need them open babygirl”. Sejun said with a tsk and the arousal pooling in your lower belly was almost embarrassing by the simple words.

A finger trailed around your weeping hole gathering the wetness on the pad as you gasped as Sejun brought it up to his mouth. His lips puckering around the finger as his eyes closed and a low moan could be heard. Holy fuck that’s hot, you were now full on ogling him as he popped the appendage out of his mouth and trailed his tongue along the seam of his lips. Opening his eyes, his lips quirked into a smirk as he took in your expression.

The finger that had been sucked clean was brought back to your nether region. With a squelch, the long index finger slid into your entrance and you hummed at the needed intrusion. A few pumps were made before a second finger was added, your walls tightening around the appendages. 

“Need to get you nice and ready” Sejun murmured as he watched his fingers go in and out of your wet hole. Your eyes snapped shut as he curled the tips of his finger upwards in a come hither motion. The pads of his fingers rubbed against the spongey flesh of your g-spot and you gripped at the pillow that had been under your head.

Moving his fingers in semi circle motions to stretch you out further, Sejun pressed his thumb lightly against your clit as you got used to the stretching intrusion. 

Your eyes snapped open as you felt a glob of wetness land on your pussy and the sight of Sejun with his lips puckered as he sat up watching his fingers work themselves in and out of your heat caused you to clench hard. Your mind was fighting with wether it was nasty or unbelievable hot how his split trailed once again from between his lips and landed on your pussy. The look in his eyes as he watched it slither down your clit over his fingers and mixing with your arousal at the crack between your ass and the bed made up your mind that it was one of the hottest thing you’ve experienced. 

You could feel the slight widening of your hole as his fingers splayed open slightly inside of you before another finger was added. It was an extremely tight fit but the slight sting hurt oh so good as he slowly pushed into your entrance with all three fingers. “Tell me if it hurts okay?” His voice was oddly soft as he asked but it comforted you.

You widened your legs as he pumped his fingers at a nice and slow pace making sure you keep you comfortable but still stretching you out. The soft thrumming of his thumb over your clit added to the pleasure you were feeling.

Sejuns fingers formed a cone shape inside of you as he pumped in at a faster pace after he felt your walls starting to relax. Sejuns other hand splayed over your left thigh as he kept your legs open. 

The finger on your clit started to move in tight circles and your back arched as you clamped a hand over your mouth to keep you from moaning. Your hand was pulled away almost immediately and your eyes met the darkening ones of the man pleasuring you. “Ah ah, no trying to conceal your sounds. Let me hear how you feel or I’ll stop. Got it?” You really wanted to roll your eyes and mumble a sarcastic remark but stern look in his eyes as he cocked a brow and curled his finger upwards caused you to nod furiously “Yes, yes jeez! Just fuck! Don’t stop.” 

Your eyes rolled back as he spat on your pussy again and used his thumb to spread the wetness over your clit. A drawn out moan left your lips as he thrusted his fingers in and out of your tight hole at a faster pace and matched his circling thumb to the rhythm.

It was becoming all too much and as you trailed your eyes down his frame to his hips now bucking against your thigh, his hardened bulge rubbing against your flesh, your body tightened and spasmed every time his fingers curved against your g-spot. “Ahh,I.. I…m going to..c..c….cum..please don’t..stop”.

“I didn’t quite catch that” Sejun slowed his pace and smirked devilishly. “Fun..fuck you! I said I’m..gonna cum!” The same stern look returned to his face as he stopped completely and slipped his fingers from your spasming core causing you to thrash your head side to side as you pleaded with him. “I’m..sorry..please don’t stop…I need to cum..please…please…fuck please.” With a smack to your pussy a grunt left his lips as he thrust his fingers back into your entrance, your back arching at the sudden intrusion.

“That’s better princess.” Sejuns fingers worked themselves in and out of you at a fast pace and he began circling hi thumb over your clit once again causing your body to convulse at the stimulation. “Fuck…shit…shit! I need.. cum…need to cum!” You moaned out as your eyebrows furrowed and shallow breathes of air puffed from your lips. “You want to cum babygirl?”

A series of ‘Yes’ left your lips and Sejun curled his fingers upwards against the spongey flesh. With a harsh press of his thumb against your clit you felt your eyes roll back as your eyelids closed over your eyes and your thighs began to shake. 

A hard grip on your chin forced your eyes open and Sejun was suddenly inches from your face as he squished your cheeks between his fingers as he pumped his fingers in and out of you at an intense pace. “Open your eyes and look at me when you cum! I better not have to tell you again!” Hot breath fanned against your face as you nodded as much as you could in his hold. 

A series of ‘Fucks’ could be heard in the room as your walls tightened around his fingers and the familiar snapping sensation filled your lower abdomen as your orgasm approached. The fluttered of your walls squished his fingers but Sejun wouldn’t have it any other way. The lust ridden gaze Sejun had in his eyes as you came apart with his fingers inside of you was all that you could see. A buzzing filled your ears and you felt warmth spread throughout your body as you came.

Your knees knocked together as they shook and the feeling of overstimulation against your clit became too much as you begged him to stop. It wasn’t until tears pricked at your eyes that he pulled his hand from your core and popped each finger inside of his mouth, making sure to lick them clean.

With a cock of his head, Sejun sat up. “You taste like ripe strawberries, pineapple and something heady with a hint of salt.” A look of shock riddled your features and you couldn’t help the laugh that threatened to fall from your lips. “Are you a pussy juice connoisseur or what?” You fully expected Sejun to scold you or laugh with you but his face was completely serious. “You could say that.”

“I’m saying you taste good.” A shake of your head as you giggled caused him to slightly pout. “I know what you’re saying. Just an odd way of putting it”

The feeling of Sejuns bulge against your thigh caused you to stop your laughing. Even with his pants on, he felt thick and heavy against your flesh and despite the intense orgasm you had just had you needed more, you wanted to feel him inside of you.

Sitting upwards on your knees, you placed your palms flat against his bare chest and maneuvered you both until he was sitting against the soft pillows near the headboard and you were straddling him. With a harsh press of your hands he was sent into a laying position, hovering your body over his face a sinful smirk graced your lips. “You called me a princess earlier.” A cock of your eyebrow was made as you nuzzled your lips against the shell of his ear. “I’m anything BUT a princess.” Sejun could’t respond as your hand had made it’s way down his body while you spoke and when the last words left your lips you harshly palmed his length.

A grin spread over his plump lips and your wrist was suddenly gripped into a strong hold. With a determined gaze you slid your other hand down his body and popped the button of his incredibly tight pants. Surging forward you attached your lips to his neck and nibbled against the soft flesh. The smell of cologne and musk invading your senses as you lapped at his sweat slick skin. 

Sliding your hand under the waistband of his briefs, your eyes bulged slightly at his size that laid heavily against your palm. Drool pooled inside of your mouth as you gulped and a deep chuckle resounded in your ears. “I told you I needed to stretch you out. Now. you’ve had your fun being on top but its time I fuck you the way you need to be fucked.” A hand weaved through your hair and pulled your face to his as your bottom lip was tugged between teeth. A wet pop was heard as the flesh smacked against your teeth and arms encircled you before turning you both around so that Sejun was seated on top of you once again.

The jingling of zippers and fabric against skin was heard as Sejun tossed his pants somewhere on the clothing littered floor. “I was only on top for like 5 minu- ungghf” Sejuns hard cock bumped against your clit and you swore you drooled as the thick head slid along your core. The drag of his hard cock felt intoxicating but you needed more, you needed to be filled.

“Fuck me already!” you growled out and Sejun tsk’d. “Demanding won’t get you anywhere sweetheart.” A slight push of his thick cock head was made against your weeping hole and you reached out to tug harshly on his thick locks. “Sejun! I’m not fuckin around! Now fuck man, just ugh just fuck me.” A harsh slap was delivered to your pussy and you swore at the contact. 

“Ask nicely y/n, or my cock won’t fill you up.” It was a low warning but you ceased your brattiness if it meant getting to finally be filled. “Fine! Please, I need to be fucked. Please just film up alrea-“ You were cut off by the sliding of his cock head into your entrance, Fuck, he was just a few inches in but it was already a stretch.

Fingers brushed against the soft skin of your abdomen as he slid inside slowly before ceasing any movement. “Is this okay?” It was a simple question but the juxtaposition from his stern nature a few minutes prior had momentarily shocked you. Clearing your throat “Yeah, I can take it” You weren’t lying, sure it was a stretch and you could feel the sting but it wasn’t anything uncomfortable.

Placing his hands on either side of your shoulders, Sejun leaned forward slowly sliding all the way in until his blunt head felt like it bumped your cervix and your fingers curled into the sheets at the incredibly tight fit. “Fuck y/n, so fuckin tight.” Sejuns head was thrown back and his long neck was on full display above you. 

Arching upwards, your lips attached themselves onto the juncture of his neck and he growled out at the feeling as your lips worked over his flesh. Fingers curling into his silky hair  and over his shoulder you couldn’t say you’ve ever felt so full in your life. 

A sharp snap of his hips was felt before he leaned backwards on his haunches and snapped forwards once again. The way your hole sucked his cock in was an intoxicating sight and Sejun groaned at the squelching noises your wet pussy made. 

A nice rhythm was started as his thrusts were deliberately timed and every snap of his hips meant a flood of sensations for you. He filled you up and every slide of his cock was felt against your ridges as he snugly bottomed out inside of you. “Harder” The pace was great but you knew he could do much more and you wanted to feel everything he could give you.

An eyebrow quirked at your demand and Sejun smirked “Harder? Princess” The last word was punctuated bu a particularly hard thrust and you tugged harshly against his scalp. “Don’t. Call me. Princess” With each word you tugged at the strands and he growled at the sensation, taking your wrist between his fingers before slamming both of your wrists against the bed on either side of your head.

“Y/n you’re being bad.” The words tumbled from his lips in a low growl and your eyelids fluttered closed at the way it made you feel. With your wrists in his grip, he snapped his hips harshly as his cock filled you up nice and deep. 

A harsher pace was set and each drag of his cock set your insides alight with new sensation, the way he leaned over you caused his pubic bone to drag over your clit with each thrust. Wrapping your legs around his lower back, your hips met Sejuns for every harsh thrust and pull.

Whatever stinging you had previously felt was replaced with nothing but pleasure as he went faster with every pump of his member. “More” Your legs were suddenly pulled up by your knees until your ankles were hovering in the air by your head. You felt like a pretzel and the stretch on your body hurt but the way Sejun managed to somehow get deeper inside of your tight cunt made it worth it. You were practically bent in half as his large palms pressed down on the flesh in the middle of the backs of your knees and ass.

“That all you got Sej..Sejunniee” Your harsh breaths made you stutter but you managed to still pull your face into a mocking look as the saccharine tone seeped from your lips. A sudden harsh smack against the underside of your ass cheek sounded through the room and the stinging flesh caused your neck to arch back into the pillows. “Be careful what you wish for Y/n.”

Another smack was delivered, this time to your ass cheek before Sejun bottomed out inside of you. Knees dipping into the bed, Sejun leaned forward with his palms on he backs of your legs as he set a brutal series of thrusts. The sensation of thick cock dragging against your walls until just the tip was inside before slamming back into your core was drool worthy.

Low groans left his lips and you dug your nails into his shoulder as you whined, begging for more. More of what? you didn’t quite know but more seemed to be the only word you could utter as his flesh dragged against yours. 

Snapping your eyes open, the sound of the front door closing rather harshly was heard and you knew it had to have been a clumsy Byungchan. Fear set into your features and Sejun placed a finger over your lips. “It’s okay, Byungchan won’t come in, he most likely thinks I’m with a girl anyways. Relax Y/n.” The words were said in a soft whisper against your ear and while you knew they were the truth you still feared being caught. But something in the way Sejun’s cock bumped against your g-spot as he thrust and the way you were still feeling that stinging heartache of your one sided crush being happy with his crush made you nod.

“You can use me right now to help get over how you feel about Chan and Emi if you want.” The statement surprised you but you trailed your nails down his back as he delivered a hard thrust. “Fuck me” It wasn’t a harsh demand, more of a plea whispered into his ear. Pulling back from your ear, Sejun nodded in understanding.

A sharp move of his hips delivered a song thrust that you swore you could feel against your cervix and you cried out. “Louder princess.” Sejun smirked knowing the pet name would get to you but in an almost sick way you relished in the thought of Byungchan possibly hearing you. There’s no way he would know it’s you as you most likely sounded mumbled and different between the layers of walls separating Sejuns room from his own but it’s like part of you wanted to be like “this is what you’re missing” even though he hadn’t even been aware of your affections.

A loud whine left your lips as Sejun fucked himself into you and you scratched your nails down his back. You had earlier seen the faded pink marks on his back and while you both were careful not to leave marks with mouths in an unspoken rule you figured your nails on his back would be fine as he already had some from his plethora on conquests. 

“Fuck how are you still so tight!” Sejun moaned out and a gush of arousal was felt between your legs at his normally softer voice being so deep and assertive. “Maybe you aren’t going hard enough” You barked in respond and the smirk that had made its way onto your lips was replaced with a small ‘o’ as Sejun snapped a hand up your body to clamp around the curvature of your neck. His grip wasn’t hard enough to fully choke you but the feeling of less air flow caused a tingling to be set throughout your body.

Fast thrusts caused the room to sound in skin slapping and wet squelches. The headboard banging against the wall as he drove his hips against yours cause your body you rattle. “Fuck Sejun!”

“Yeah? Is that hard enough for you? Or do you want more. Know what, i’m not giving you a choice, you’re getting more.” Large palms pulled your ass tightly against him and his balls slapped against your skin. The hand that was around your neck tightened its hold every few seconds before releasing causing a rush of air to fill your head. The hand that had pulled your ass up now lay flat against your abdomen pushing your body down onto the bed. 

Your cervix was being battered by his hard cock head and a trail of drool leaked from the side of your mouth as you were being fucked ‘stupid’ “Shit!shit! I’m..cu..cu..gonna..cum” You stuttered as you felt your walls fluttering around his hard cock.

A harsh slap was delivered to your clit as Sejun spit a thick globule onto your cunt and you lost it, the pure dirtiness from the action caused your abdomen to clench and lust clouded your vision. “FUCK! Se…sej….omg..omg I’m…fuck yes!” Your legs began to shake as Sejun pressed his thumb against the hollow of your throat and your eyes struggled to stay open from the extract you were being thrown in but you couldn’t risk closing them and him stopping his actions as he had said he would earlier.

“Cum in..inside, I’m on the pill” You mumbled out feeling his cock twitch inside of you. The thought of a condom had slipped both of your minds earlier in the night and you knew you’d kick yourself about it later, for now you needed to cum.

“Fuck y/- babygirl! Cum all over my cock!” Your name almost slipped from his lips but Sejun effectively covered it up in case either of your friends had been awake. A coil felt like it had snapped and a loud growl left Sejuns lips as you clenched hard around his cock. “Oh my!omg! FUCK I..fuck. I’m cumming.” A flood of arousal gushed from your core as your body shook and your toes curled.

“Fuck yeah! Soak my cock! Sejun fucked his cock into you before halting suddenly. A loud moan escaped his throat as ropes of cum painted your inner walls with his seed. Your orgasm continued as he filled you to the brim and you cried out as his hand left your neck in favor of filling your mouth with his thick thumb. You sucked on the appendage as your body shook in overstimulation. 

With a few shallow thrusts of his cock, Sejun’s could feel the last spurts of milky white leave his member. Softly pulling himself from your warm cavern, Sejun watched as a flood of white leaked from your core and he couldn’t help the low groan leave his lips at the mess you had made. The sheets were soaked from you squirting and the pool of cum that sat along the seam of your ass and the bed was enough to cause his softening cock to twitch alive again. 

Taking in your fucked out state, Sejun willed himself to calm down as he really didn’t think you could take another round right now. 

Sitting up with a huff leaving your lip your eyes widened as you took in the sight between your splayed out legs. “Holy..fuck.” Sejun who was seated in front of your legs smirked “That was so fucking hot.” With a shake of your head you looked at him incredulously. You had only squirted twice prior and both were from a long masturbation session where you overstimulated yourself with your favorite vibrator after a month of no cumming as a stupid self challenge. 

Sejun pulled you up to a standing position before propping you onto his desk chair. “I’m just gonna change the sheets real quick.” Your legs felt like jelly but you knew you couldn’t stay in his room. His conquests rarely stayed the night, you knew that and you didn’t trust yourself to wake up and leave his bed before your friends awoke from their own slumber so you did the only thing that made sense. You stood up on your own as he finished changing the sheets and smoothed his palm over his comforter that had been in a heap on the floor during your ‘activities’. Finding your panties on the floor with Hanses bottoms your nose scrunched at the damp materiel. 

Sejun’s eyes met you form as you debated on whether to wear the shorts with or sans panties. The sound of a drawer being opened was heard and a pair of briefs and a wet wipe were being held out towards you. “Here, I don’t think soaking panties are comfortable to wear and I know you probably don’t want to wear Hanses shorts without anything under.”

“Thank you.” After cleaning yourself up you threw the fabric away in the waste bin by his desk. The fabric of the briefs was quite soft, Why are mens underwear so fucking comfortable?. With a snap of your bra you then pulled the loose cotton shirt over your form despite your now aching muscles. 

“I know you’re going to go sleep on the couch so nobody gets suspicious but know I couldn’t kick you out from my room in the middle of the night. That’d make me a shitty friend and I fancy myself not only a good fuck but a gentleman of sorts” Sejun smiled that genuine smile that accentuates his deep set dimples, your head shook side to side at how unfair it was that he looked like some sort of deity after that sex session and you most likely looked a mess.

“Thanks..I appreciate that haha.” You awkwardly laughed and Sejun shook his head. “Hey don’t be embarrassed or anything. We fucked and we can either talk about it or not talk about it whatever you want.” You really did appreciate how he was trying to make things less awkward as he sat on his bed in his clean briefs but you couldn’t talk about it right now. Too many thoughts were swirling in your brain and all you wanted to do was pass out on the couch you knew all too well. 

With a fake yawn escaping your lips you waved at him before making your way to his door. “I’m actually super tired so I’m just going to head to bed.” Checking to make sure the coast was clear you slipped from his room and softly reciprocated the goodnight he called out.

The kitchen light had still been on from earlier and you noticed Byungchans shoes strewn across the floor and accompanied with how loud he had been entering the shared apartment you could bet he was probably quite tipsy which you thanked God for as drunk Byungchan was less likely to miss your supposed sleeping form on the couch.

A quick trip to the restroom, a flick of the kitchen lights and you were finally settled on the couch cushions with a soft blanket curled around your body. Pushing your questioning thoughts and oddly enough lack of regret to the back of your brain, you closed your eyes and let your now aching muscles lead you into a hopefully deep sleep. 

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Whether you found this smut cringe worthy or actually not THAAAT bad, I appreciate you for reading this chapter and sticking with me <3

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 11)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER. 

CHAPTER 10.1

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Men couldn't really be trusted with a girl who had her first menstruation especially in their dimension because their hunches could get a good laugh out of you; suggesting that Cirilla has been attacked by some beast. Feelings are shown and couldn't be avoided, however; after the Djinn incident, it seems like those feelings turn into cravings that seem to be voracious for you and Geralt.

Warnings: Sexual implications. (But, still no smut. I'm frustrating myself in this one) Mention of breasts. Ha! Geralt being one enchanted and cheeky lil' shit. (Ya’ hot witcher 😫😘🥰😒) Reader being one innocent, naive lil' shit as well. Jaskier and Geralt being idiots. Cirilla being our soft baby. Mention of coochie. Honeypot slang also means vajayjay. The menstruation talk. Blood. Also mention of WOW characters and LOL. 

Words: 8.8k

A/N: 💖 Thank you for all the positive feedbacks I've received from this fic of mine! This is quite long but I hope you'll love it because I did! Hehehehhe!  Thank you to @uncoolcloudyhead​ because she has told me about the menstruation idea and I actually liked it so here it is! THANK YOU, BB'S! Also, this is prolly my bday update for Henry Cavill! (It’s already May 5 in my time, so...Heehehe) HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVEYYYY! *CRIES* WHERE YOU AT? WE STILL HAVE BABIES TO MAKE, HENRY. 😭😭👶😭😫🥰😂😂😂

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Random familiar voices came echoing outside the room. The sun was shining, in a way that got you groaning because it was attacking your face in full blast. There were ravens standing on the edge of the windows, chirping quietly as a form of your alarm. You've straightened your arms to reach for a certain person who had slept beside you, but you've tapped the mattress to feel the cold white sheets, informing you that he had already been up for hours.

You were alone. Again. Well, it wasn't like you and Geralt had a rule to not leave the bed when the other hasn't yet nor did you both have some sort of relationship that gives you that kind of priority.

The loud exclaims began to echo louder, lifting your back to squint your eyes and scrub them with the back of your knuckles; swiping off the morning glory that has been stuck on your eyelashes. You've heard the panicked voice of Cirilla down stairs as you rested your back on the headboard, listening to their talk, "I'm bleeding, Geralt. Why am I bleeding?!"

Then, Jaskier's voice resonated next, "She needs a healer!" pause. "What beast must attack her in such a delicate part of a child?!"

The witcher woke up with Cirilla never leaving her bed. He'd knocked on her door three times because they had training today before he'd heard her screech so loud, throwing the sheets away to see her bed with blood.

Shock was the least to describe Geralt's expression, he was utterly floored when he realized that their house has been invaded by some type of beast that devours a woman's delicate pearls. He deeply tried to search inside his head for whatever was close enough to be too sleek that he hadn't heard the monster enter their house nor did he even got the gist of its smell.

The monster was technically too good or maybe somehow idiotic as well because of how it probably only bitten Cirilla in between her legs.

"Jaskier, calm down." Geralt deeply rumbled, eyebrows tightly creased to the extent of thinking too much. The bard huffed to himself, crossing his arms in a snobbish way to watch Geralt leaning on their new dining table, hands flat as he had his head dropped down, thoroughly thinking it through.

"You're panicking as well because you've been too distracted with your delightful slumber with your midget that you were slacking and your witcher senses were unrealiable because of your protective fingers threading along the scented locks of her hair---"

The witcher snapped his head back to see Jaskier forming flowery sentences about what he saw last night. Though, he processed it and simply to say that he peeked through his room to see you and Geralt cuddled in each other's arms, "Did you enter my chambers?"

Jaskier looked around to see who he was talking to, but see no one and muttered an answer devoid of guile, "No?"

Geralt roughly growled, his nose scrunched in ferocity as he gave the bard a sharp glint of his cat-eyes. He should've left the door locked last night, "I'm locking the door next time. You can't be trusted anymore, bard."

The bard had a smug look on his face, a winning grin because of how he had caught the witcher red-handed. Geralt gave him a subtle roll of his eyes; ignoring the gloat etching his features.

The princess of Cintra stood in the middle of the kitchen, her beige silky night gown all bloody from her thighs down to her feet like there has been bloody murder. She was cocking her head in a way that tells she was wondering what has happened and why she feels no pain other than the part of her lower belly.

"Geralt, the only thing hurting is my stomach. What beast was it?"

"I...don't know," the witcher sincerely murmured, sighing a loud one as he straightened his back and stood tall, his amber eyes scanning Cirilla from head to foot to see what else was wrong; though, she appeared to be utterly normal, "---If it was a beast, then it is too conniving to have invaded our home,"

You cautiously took a trek down the stairs, your soft pitter-patters along the wooden staircase can be heard by the witcher as he instantly snapped his head to where you're coming from. Howbeit, before even jumping on the last step, you've took a sneaky peak at the family; head out in the open as your eyes immediately saw questioning amber eyes that held softness beneath the glow while Cirilla and Jaskier has been arguing.

What a wonderful sight to wake up in the morning; maybe having your three wishes from the djinn can be worthwhile when having Geralt look at you with a hint of such tenderness; stirring warmth growing in your belly.

You've raised a hand to give him a little wave before receiving a surprising small beam from the witcher himself as it was completely out of the blue; you've expected him to arch a brow or scowl but today seemed like a better day than he had prior to the mornings before.

Jaskier continued to deliver his tirades, palms spread out to exclaim Cirilla's current condition that knocked down all their feathers first thing in the morning, "Oh, dear gods! You looked like you were stabbed--stabbed in the---"

When you've suddenly emerged from the staircase and in the guise of being sardonic, your face was apathetic as you sarcastically muttered; pacing through the middle of the kitchen and interrupting their panic attacks, "This is why men can't handle a child alone; more so, a woman especially in times like this,"

From the moment you've seen Cirilla and that blood trailing down her legs, staining her night gown; you instantly knew what was happening. It was a natural circumstance in the lives of women.

Cirilla was having her first ever menstruation and these men were thinking of other worst case scenarios that made you wince from how uneducated they were about a menstrual cycle of a woman.

"Midget." You've heard Geralt acknowledged your presence, those butterflies in your stomach twerking from his gaze that rested upon your face; yet you tried your best to appear like he wasn't giving you any effect.

Probably too late for trying to let him know that you weren't that into him because you actually were. Big Time.

You were head over heels for the amber eyed witcher; even feeling a lot more after you've wished to a genie.

You bashfully bit the insides of your cheeks, clearing your throat to retain from squealing by how the witcher was trying to melt you with his peepers, "Tell me what beast it is," a demand was sent to the bard who gave you both rogueish looks when he glanced at the witcher who kept on staring like he was smitten with you.

The bard couldn't help but try to bite his tongue from saying any mockery to the both of you because there was a serious situation at hand, "Ughm. We've had hunches about a Nightwraith because it has been a full moon last night," Jaskier explained, holding his cup of water on one hand while the other was used as gestures as he continued to widen the scope further, "---Also, they appear in meadows or fields, and apparently we are in one. Right, Geralt?"

Jaskier glanced at the witcher, his forehead furrowed in seeing the witcher who still has his gaze fixated on you. The latter only gave him a pleasant hum to answer his question; never sparing him a glance.

"Hmm."

In which, Jaskier couldn't help but dramatically roll his eyes at Geralt from not being able to keep his eyes away from you, "Oh. Oh-no-no-no-no, here he goes again,"

You've clicked your tongue, trying to hide the blush from the witcher as you turned your heel a little and angled till you were face front with Cirilla and Jaskier, your side-profile only being seen by the man who kept his eyes solely on you like he was trying not to let you get away from his line of vision.

Oh, dear. He was utterly making your insides go in a twist.

"Nightwraiths eat women's coochies?" you lightly snorted, biting your lips to keep yourself from laughing out loud by how clueless Jaskier was.

He slanted his head to the side, thinking what you actually meant and raised a hand, "I eat coochies," pause. You've snorted another one, louder than you had before as Cirilla was looking at the bard like he'd transformed into something else, "I mean, you were referring to cookies right?" Jaskier subtly pointed to the witcher beside you.

"---Geralt does too,"

Your snorts were suddenly ceased all of a sudden when the bard pointed to the witcher who still had his eyes fixated on you. The snort died down and so was the smile that was about to creep up your face at the realization and memories that Jaskier and the lady in the marketplace said that he'd bedded a lot of women already, only does his whores in brothels and actually thought he'll live like that forever.

Huh. So much for the hoity-toity. Geralt was a fuck boy in his dimension. He's a fuck boy, you needed to remember that. Do not relish in the thirst. Do not. Not today. Not ever.

Fuck boys are assholes. But, if it were boys looking like Geralt...then, why not the lucky impaling?

You cleared your throat and push those thoughts away, "I bet he really does. No doubt," a nasal, sarcastic response was enough for Geralt to give the bard a glare of his cat-eyes. He sensed the hostility when Jaskier has said whatever he did, and the small frown etched on your face was no good.

The bard gave him a shrug, eyes all guileless and questioning.

You crossed your arms in front of everyone, masking up the prior disappointment and insecurity with a small, teasing smile, "What's the next theory? Sylvannas Windrunner? Illidan Stormrage? any world of warcraft characters? Or maybe league of legends too?"

Jaskier was expressive as he bellowed, "Gibberish. Utter gibberish, Small rat. We do not speak alien language,"

"You know aliens?" you blinked in surprise, eyeing the bard with a look of antonishment for even knowing what an alien is before he began to take it back, "I don't know, did I say aliens?"

You've narrowed your eyes at the troubadour, trying to see if he knew what he was saying but see none but only a confused epic teller. One tap, two taps on your arm and you gave a tiny beam at everyone, giving each a look of reassurance as your gaze lasted longer when you've passed by Geralt and then Kolby who was crouched under the living room table.

They've waited for your answer, patiently and intrigued by what they could learn from a person who lived in another dimension. You gave a soft sigh before grinning like a cheshire cat, "You are panicking over a girl having her period,"

Thus, your explanation made their foreheads crease a lot more as they couldn't understand.

"Do you both trust me?" you've given Jaskier and Geralt a look. The witcher gruffly answered in a jiffy, quick as a wink when he did so; leaving Jaskier to give him the craziest expression he could create.

"I do."

"We don't especially when you came from another dimension---" he gave his friend a double take, feigning the stun and offence as he brought a hand to his chest like he broke his heart, "---A traitor you are, Geralt!"

You gave the bard a crooked grin, shaking your shoulders to infuriate him, "It seems like your witcher trusts me enough, Jaskier."

He crossed his arms like a braggart, loudly huffing to his disappointment and shaking his head in consternation, "Oh, I swear he's acting like the dunderhead he is again. Next thing you know, he's as cold as a dead Alghoul's bum,"

A quick trudge towards Cirilla, you've gently held onto her shoulders; giving her a genial gaze of your eyes as she eyed you back skeptically.

"Cirilla, you need a warm bath. You feel uncomfortable, correct?" in consequence to your question, she'd felt another blood flow down her thighs, making her squirm from how uncomfortable it felt. It's like an endless stream that she couldn't handle, "I want the blood to stop, it doesn't cease!"

You gave her arm a gentle pat, trying to dispel her fears and perturbation about periods, "Don't panic. That's normal. I also do get that because I'm a woman. I prolly would soon. We get it every month, alright?"

Jaskier paced towards where Geralt was; regarding what seem to be a captivated witcher who was watching you handle Cirilla like a mother.

"Geralt." the minstrel tried to catch his attention, yet he paid no heed as Geralt was likely and certainly giving you the heart eyes already, "---I thought I may never see you acting like this again but this is perfect for bribery and another marvelous epic to be written. Geralt of Rivia, thoroughly under the rat's spell as you may see fit, looking like the witcher would give her the sun, an eye of a dragon, a dead body of a Golum or the moon if she wanted to," his bard of a friend scoffed, finding humor from the doting Butcher of Blaviken.

Geralt turned a blind eye from Jaskier's jeers. His expression lethargic as he continued to gawk.

"Why? Why must I be born as a lady?!" Cirilla fumed out of nowhere, slightly growling to whatever mischances she have gotten.

The rhymist threw an arm around the smitten witcher, his silence humoring him to the bones as he snorted, "You can ask Pavetta and Duny on that,"

Cirilla of Cintra gave him a lour as you bunched the hem of her nightgown, bringing the ends of it in a degree that let you saw the small pool of blood she created. Obviously, there were no napkins in their time if the men in the household don't even know what a period is. You tried to think how you would get one when you remembered those DIY menstrual pads in Pinterest that you have saved in your phone; maybe making one would be nice, "Will you get me new clothes for Cirilla? Let's give you a bath, shall we? I'll also try to create something that can help the blood from dripping,"

The request was sent to Jaskier, since he wouldn't be frugal for any help that was asked. Though, you were moved and taken aback when you've instantly saw Geralt stepping out of the ground he was rooted on and literally given effort to your demands.

He was certainly giving you wonders that will never cease in each passing day.

"I can get that---" the bard stumbled when Geralt moved away to your command, puffing out a breath as it gave his heart a jump, "---Oh. Geralt's doing it already, you're quite helpful today, witcher. You're very much appreciated!" he loudly tattled, watching Geralt evaporate from the walls of the staircase.

The bard snickered; giving you a shit eating grin, "The power of honeypot can be quite impressive, don't you think?"

You've gave him a baffled glance, tilting your head in wonder. Honeypot. You thought in the back of your mind, it sounded nice and scrumptious to your ears and so you left it at that; sending the bard a twinkle of your smile and an ingenuous flicker of your eyes because you didn't understand him and his references but chose to be kind.

"Maybe it is quite impressive, Jaskier."

You were gobsmacked to see a room that had a largely square in-built bath tub nailed to the floor of the room; like a bath house back in the medieval times. You've crouched beside the undressed princess, mindlessly tapping the floor with your index finger as you waited. They seem to be bold in terms of their body; thinking she would dismiss you once she was unclad from her night gown but alas, Cirilla wanted you with her. Not that you mind because she was also a woman and maybe she was just very much comfortable with you.

"I must say, you like Geralt?" she uttered, very straight to the point as you stopped tapping on the marble floors. You've heard a splash and realized she was already washing the milk away from her skin.

That question. Do you want her to know your honest thoughts?

"Oh--what?! yes, I mean--no. Yes?" you sheepishly stuttered, swallowing your embarrassment down your throat because it was that obvious to the eyes of people.

Cirilla quietly giggled from your bashful reaction; finding it funny that you were that shy enough to tell her.

"You always blush. Always clumsy and fidgeting whenever he's around. It tells me how much you like him when he could get you acting weird like that,"

You bit your lip, feeling the heebie-jeebies come around because of the topic at hand, "I think he likes you too," she surprisingly revealed, scrubbing some Epsom salt around her skin.

The abrupt presumption made your heart skip a beat. That wouldn't be possible especially that you were...you. A weird, insecure, small woman who came from another dimension wouldn't be liked by a dashing witcher. You expected nothing with the affection you had for Geralt, your hopes always on the low to keep the disappointments lesser and the pain more tolerable.

Besides, you were useless. A midget who held no strength nor magic within you. Your existence would certainly only be a burden for the witcher, so expecting fondness from him was the least of your worries.

You were happy this way, just seeing or having the witcher around before he sends the cargo off to her rightful dimension.

Cirilla was unaware of your frown as you crouched behind her, she continued to tell her findings out in the open; oblivious of how your self-doubt was starting to eat you up alive, "Geralt can be quite unscrupulous by bedding tons of women in brothels,"

You studied her from behind, forcing a smile at the honest facts you've received since the day you've arrived, "Who'd given you that talk?"

"Jaskier. He tells them whenever he's drunk. You couldn't trust the bard with your secrets, he tells them in the midst of his intoxication,"

"Yet, he didn't give you the period talk. Nobody did, even though they knew what it was and just chose to act like idiots," Your mouth fell into a tight, thin line. Obvious that you were dismayed by their lack of teaching thereof, it was not like you expected the witcher to give her the talk; Geralt of Rivia, teaching Cirilla what a menstruation is to his child of surprise. It can be comical because all he'll ever say was 'Hmm's' and a ton of 'horseshit' with that scowl on his face because he didn't know what it even is. You've had hopes for the toubadour but he'd crashed those faith of yours by telling Cirilla that it was probably a Nightwraith.

You'ce softly bitten your lower lip as you tried to elucidate what a menstruation is to the princess, "Having a period, symbolizes your maturity. You're beginning to grow older, a flower that's about to bloom. You're turning into a woman now," pause. "You can bear a child if you..do the birds and the bees with the man you love, Cirilla. But, bleeding means to tell you that your ovaries is actually punishing you to death because you haven't gotten pregnant yet,"

You've heard soft splashing of the waters, seeing the child turn to her curiosity, "Birds and the bees?" there was a soft wince that came from you, lately realizing the words that came out of your mouth. So much for being educated about periods yet here you are labeling sex as 'birds and the bees' like you were a Tumblr account.

Nevertheless, you continued for the better of life and for her sake as well, "It's an act where a man and a woman does a natural deed after they're married or before when they both prefer it to as long as it is with consent. It can bear you a child," another biting of your lip got you scrapping your dried, chapped lips; tasting a little bit of blood as you do and suddenly hissing to yourself as your fingers held onto your vermillion, "---Sometimes, it can be because of love or utter lust. Happens between lovers,"

The lioness of Cintra gave a nod of understanding, swashing herself with her bathwater before straightaway delivering her thoughts to you, "If you and Geralt become lovers will you do the birds and the bees too?"

The question caught you off guard. Entirely floored as you felt your saliva caught in your throat, igniting loud sputter of coughs as you felt like choking from her query, "W-WHAT?" Cirilla beamed back at you, looking so child like as her smile turned into a grin.

You couldn't imagine how stunned you appeared to be like at the princess, "---Did you even understood a single word I said?"

She seemed to not care for your genuine explanation about menstruation and took your 'sex' labeling into account, the mistake of naming it like a fable would probably drown you in your own shame as she went on; especially now that she knew you honestly told how you liked her father or step-father or---how Geralt is labeled for the princess.

Her smile turned pensive as she poured the water from her palms down her arms. She continued to wash, "Though, you probably won't be bearing a child of your own,"

Your eyebrows were tightly furrowed together, perplexed by what she was trying to point out, "Huh?"

"Barren. Sterile. Comes in becoming a witcher when they had their trials,"

Now, you were gobsmacked. Utterly dumbstruck that you couldn't form any words to say.

Your heart stopped beating from the news. His fate took everything away from him, included being infertile; a man's duty on earth to have an heir or another form of happiness for one man is to see a child of his own. Yet, because he was a witcher; it was impossible that any form of magic wouldn't do the job just as how Cirilla explained the whole thing to you.

Though, there was Cirilla as his child of surprise so you didn't know if it was a bad thing or a good thing for Geralt.

You've looked at her, solemnly. "They've taken that away from him too?"

She subtly nodded, peering back at you, batting her long eyelashes as her blue eyes gave you an earnest gaze, "They've taken everything from him. Even his childhood which explains why he's...unstable and complicated to understand," pause. "---If he somehow hurts your emotions with his words, he probably doesn't mean that at all or it's just a habit that he does; pushing people away because he doesn't know how to handle his feelings well,"

Thus, as she muttered her next words; her eyes turned downcast and face turned as long as a fiddle like she'd remember something that already was in the past, "---It took decades for Geralt to accept his duties for me,"

The whole talk ended with that. His duties for the princess of Cintra; giving you a head start that she was his child of surprise for a distinct reason. A reason that made the princess fall into silence and you didn't try to dig onto the information because apparently, she appears to be sensitive at the topic and you respected it.

Cirilla offered that you should bathe as well when she was finally dressed in casual leather clothes that had been given by the djinn since you've wished for it. They were now blessed with more clothes and food; you name it, the Djinn has made it possible.

You gently took your bandages off, seeing how it was better than before. A lot better. The medicine was magical for it to be better in just three days; or maybe the numbness tells you that it was going well when it probably even wasn't on the inside.

"I'll fetch you your towels, Y/N." Cirilla softly announced as she was all dressed and proper, her ashen hair wet and all down as she fixed her leather boots.

You gave her a genuine smile as you tried pulling your tight leather boots free, "Thank you, Princess."

She stood beside the thick frame of the wooden door, brushing her locks with her fingers and trying to untangle them as she talked, "Ciri or Cirilla will be fine. It feels different and...enlightening when somebody doesn't tries to treat me like one,"

She was that type of princess. A humble one too. You were obviously lucky on getting to meet them because they were decent and kind. A quick nod was sent for her wants as you deeply respected it before she left the bathroom.

Before you could even go stark naked, Jaskier was kind enough to drop the towels for Cirilla; you've sent your thanks to the bard but eventually groaned when he left and saw how it was a bunch of face towels and not actually a large bath towel that you could use while you try to get your clothes in Ciri's closet because you forgot to take them with you.

So, there was reasons as to why Geralt was sometimes hostile as he can get. However, the antagonism has somehow faded through time to time for certain reasons; especially noticing how gentle he can get after raking those fingers through your hair as he slept was the most amiable gesture you have gotten from any man, ever.

But, Jaskier was right. You never know when he begins to turn cold like an Alghoul's bum because he was complicated to understand sometimes.

You were thinking about Geralt as you sat in the end of the tub. His prompt thoughtful gestures that certainly dithers your feelings for him while you were in your birthday suit. A soft creak of the door was heard and you languidly continued to scrub at your breasts; giving them gentle rubbing with some Epsom salt with a little bit of lemon that you've managed to get from the cupboards; not glancing over the princess as you pointed at a small wooden chair and expressed your gratitude for her kindness.

"Thank you, Cirilla." you continued to heedlessly exfoliate your body; abruptly pointing at the chair as your eyes were fixated on your body, "You can lay the towels over there, I can get it."

Chances of being lucky has never been a part in your life. Hence, hearing that familiar, rough, low baritone of a voice you've desired to have for the rest of your life as you bathed was surely giving you the shilly-shally when you've seen Geralt of Rivia standing rooted on the ground; his amber eyes bemisting with obscure thoughts that you certainly also felt as his eyes were glued to your perky, unclad chest that was displayed before him.

He was a man; heedful of his needs and wants. Especially that the woman bathing in front of him has been clouding his mind since day one. The witcher would obviously stare and ogle at the unexpected blessing that you ought to share.

Geralt was apparently staring at your boobs and he shamelessly seemed to not care at all.

"Ugh," he hoarsely croaked out, those glowing peepers clouding with something primal, raking your form with those piercing eyes as you were knocked out of your socks by seeing the witcher whom stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the bath room, "I've fetched you your---" Geralt cleared his throat, forehead creasing in surprise as he went on with his gawking; ceasing the moment to sketch the image inside his head by heart.

"---breasts---towels, I mean towels. Fuck," the latter gruffly cussed, scrunching his nose for even admitting that he was impudently ogling at your tatas.

You didn't know what to do as your arms began to fidget, trying to find anything that could cover you up as you panicked; not used to being in decent in front of people especially by a man who has crept inside your heart. The water furiously splashed as you squirmed in your side of the tub, yelping when you've seen those face towels far from your reach and you've decided to just cover your breasts with an arm.

Fortunately, your breasts weren't that huge enough for some nipple slipping. So, an arm would suffice. As well as your heated center that was covered with your bath water.

"Geralt!" you've finally called out the elephant in the room, doing nothing but stare at you like you've saved his life, also humming in a pleasing tone as he blinked, arching a brow in amusement.

It was utmost shameful to be seen by a man you were fond with; thoroughly starked like you were showing him your adorable sized watermelons at the witcher who didn't seem to mind the image. "Where is Cirilla?!" you demanded and panicked, the heat flowing up your face when you glanced at Geralt in utter stupefaction.

The witcher was trying his best not to snicker from what he'd seen from you like it was a gift to mankind; his mankind, "Plotting her vengeance for my attitude prior to that day," he remembered that he'd pissed the princess when he planned to bring you back in your world with a Djinn. Therefore, Cirilla was salty about the whole situation and didn't forget the retribution that he needed to receive after pissing the child off.

You could hear the nark and frustration in his timbre, though he sounded to be too quelled to your surprise that he actually didn't find Cirilla's plan to be rather much annoying because of what benefits was given, "---and she already got what she fucking wanted. That cunning child,"

The latter clicked his tongue, blinking out of his amazement in giving him an accidental flash of your breasts. Well, he'd seen more breasts than any type of normal, but seeing yours was different. You could see the crooked smile wanting to carve upon his lips, making you narrow your eyes back at the witcher who found everything delightful, "She promised you were...decent,"

Your brow instantly rose at that, skeptically glaring back at the witcher, "Is this decent enough for you?!"

Thus, he cocked his head to the side, feeling his heated gaze on you alone; never leaving, "Even...better?"

You've finally hugged yourself together, both arms crossed to cover those angels you were hiding from, giving Geralt the death stare as the witcher continued to gape; eyes definitely intrigued for what else could he find pleasing to look at. His face was now back to being stoic and serious but his eyes seem to be the opposite.

"Stop staring!" you timidly commanded, voice higher than usual due to the embarassment.

He didn't need to be told twice. Geralt sighed in way that got him smiling, entirely beguiled by your reaction.

You were a conservative woman, even pure as well based on how you were panic-stricken by being immodest. Unlike those other women who he has been with, they were all poised and unfazed by showing their perfectly shaped bodies at the witcher who they find utmost alluring and ravishing.

Yet, here you were. Being you.

"I'm trying." Geralt snickered, his grin lifting his lips in haste when you couldn't see his face as he turned around.

It was like you can feel him grinning. You knew he was grinning and so you stated your accusations out loud as he was grinning from ear to ear, "I can see you grinning! Judge my body for all you want! You probably saw better," "

But, his smile slightly fell when he'd heard your voice waver a little at the final thought of your message; hearing a little bit of insecurity or maybe a lot more if you were covering them up to not let them see.

"You---You can leave the towels there. Don't look as you do!" you pointed at the wooden chair close to him, raking his form from hair to foot and still couldn't believe how large his build was. A puff of breath left your lips when you could feel yourself grow hot that had more than a blush, your fingers suddenly flying up till you've touched the weird symbol that was inscribed in between the valley of your breasts.

The symbol was totally strange although familiar because it held no meaning for you. It was like a colorless tattoo or a scar that was meant to be there; an image that you have already seen or encountered because it was with Geralt.

It consisted of the witcher's medallion.

You've only seen it when you began undressing, wondering why it was even there in the first place.

"Hmm." he gravelly hummed, seeing his shoulders slump as he thought about it too long. How would he even place the towel without looking like an idiot pacing backwards? "I'm warning you!"

Geralt gave a scoff, turning his booted heel halfway that you could only see his gorgeous side-profile. He never looked at your way again, though it was thoroughly tempting for the witcher but he respected your wishes and just stared straight at the wooden chair that was a meter away from him.

Your naked presence didn't cease his jests, "It doesn't sound too threatening now, does it? Especially that it comes from you,"

An adorable growl erupted from you, igniting a chuckle from the witcher as it was the first time he heard it for all his life and it was certainly the cutest, "What are you implying then?!"

"That you're a tiny midget trying to scare off a big, bad witcher," his grin grew bigger as he went on with his teasing.

You've eyed the large towel in his hands, actually thanking the witcher for sending them off to you because of Jaskier's foolishness; grateful that you wouldn't run off the hallways completely naked because you only had face towels, "Is that even a decent towel? Not a face towel like how Jaskier tried to give?"

Despite of only seeing his side profile, you were sure his grin fell from the moment you've mentioned the bard, "He'd went in?" he grumbled with a spiteful tone, making you question him in silence, "---with you bathing?"

"What's wrong with that, Geralt?"

There was a murmur, and you couldn't quite comprehend what he said but you knew it doesn't sound like he enjoyed the idea of Jaskier walking in on you while you were unclad like it was nothing unlike him who'd been given warnings and death stares like you wanted to throw knives at him.

"That bard,"

Was he feeling the way you're actually thinking how he felt? you couldn't help but try not to scoff this time, never wanting to get caught that you were finding his irked reaction rather funny, "I was clothed when he did. Unlike you,"

He'd ignored your response as you watched him saunter towards where the chair is, gently dropping them on top of the clean set of face towels that Jaskier has managed to give, "These are your towels, midget." Geralt mindlessly muttered, heedless of his next words that came out of his mouth, "---all new, soft and perky...Ugh, fuck."

The witcher rigidly stood straight, his shoulders falling as he exhaled a long breath; waiting for the tumult of your loud protests, "You're describing my boobs!"

Did he seriously just tell you that your breasts were perky? Small? Or you just thought perky meant small for you?

Geralt had his brows in a twist, crossing his arms as he glared at the wooden chair, probably already dying from how he was giving daggers to the poor seat in front of him, "Your what?"

"My watermelons! My tatas! I know what you're thinking and how dare you tell me they're small?!"

The latter didn't meant it that way. He meant that it was upright and firm. Definitely firm as he'd already seen it with his own amber eyes, "I wasn't saying it was miniscule," he explained with a very relaxed pitch of his voice. The topic not shaking him off.

"---It's the right size for you,"

You were now red-faced, finding the whole ordeal of talking about your breasts with the man you fantasized about was giving your features a reaction of being too flustered by the words he say, "Geralt!" it was a sheepish loud hush and scold for the witcher to cease his talking, "Stop talking about it! This is embarassing!"

Geralt amusedly clicked his tongue, amber eyes downcast as you saw a slip of his smile before fully turning his broad back as he ignored you on the side, eyes focused at the door which will give him a way out.

Maybe after you bathed, he needed to also have his based on how your irresistable presence began to take its camp inside his leather pants.

"I'll...alright," he roughly cleared his throat, a hand on the wooden door before you suddenly beckoned him to stop.

"Wait!"

The witcher could help you with whatever symbol was on your chest. He was the only person who could explain what was happening to your body right?

Those constant withering you feel on your chest whenever he was around, a desire that wanted you having him up close and maybe ever closer than you wish for? The scorching want to touch his face, feel his body caressing you in a way that nobody else could?

The type of scorching thirst that made your soul corrupted from all the lewd thoughts inside your head. You've had it last night, when Geralt was up close and raking his fingers through your locks; by the time you were sweating and having the potent urge to just devour the man who was thoughtful enough to put you to sleep, all you wanted was to be raunchy with all the obscene whisperings inside your head.

It was like somebody wanted you to do it; to have your body corrupted by the witcher and you didn't know if he felt the same way.

Your thoughts was heading to a path that you didn't know about; since the moment that the witcher came into your life.

Geralt heard the splashes of the water, meaning to say you stood up; utterly naked and wet from your bath that it made the witcher's body turn stiff. "You're making this difficult for me, midget..." it was a serious warning that got your chest feeling all sorts of things again.

You swallowed the filthy want away and covered your body with the towel that reached beneath your knees as you paced towards where he was, "Don't worry, I'm all clothed now. I just need to show you something,"

"I've seen more than enough of your breasts that can get me---" he started with a dangerous tone of his timbre, but you immediately backpaddled and tied the towel in between the valley of your breasts, the symbol showing above the towel as you awkwardly fidgeted your toes on the ground, "No! Not that! This!"

He'd felt your nervous pats on his shoulder, urging him to turn around and when he did; Geralt was aware of that shining symbol carved on your chest like a necklace that he also had.

The witcher stared at it with utmost peculiarity, his forehead creased too deeply that made you ponder if he was mad at what he was seeing but you knew he was just trying to understand whatever it is that was outlined on your chest.

Thus, he'd inspected each and every curvature, ending at an image that he also had on as he worn it as a necklace for whenever he was in battles since it was sensitive to magic.

"It's...weird," you curiously mumbled, glancing down at the glyph on your chest before tilting your head till you could see the real one gleaming before you, rested upon his wooly chest that you so wanted to touch since last night.

The way it crawled in the deepest parts of you was antagonizing as you couldn't find any relief other than whenever Geralt was touching you, it somehow lessen the uncomfortable, scathing feeling.

A very odd feeling that couldn't be helped.

Hence, in the twinkling of an eye; Geralt already has his calloused, rough fingers merely brushing that mark you had on the valley of your chest, sparking a hitch of your breath as it got stuck in your throat; the witcher, touching a part of you that nobody else did yet.

"Did I say you could touch?" you bashfully whispered, all flustered when you've felt him gently tracing the emblem.

"Hmm."

"But, your touch somehow helps the ache and the bath did too as well," an earnest answer was sent to the witcher, his amber eyes snapping away from the symbol to give you a glance; seeing a satisfied flicker of your eyes as you found it soothing, "Very weird,"

From the moment his fingertips came in contact with the image stuck in your chest, you've held out a satisfying sigh; feeling the slight sting slowly pass by like a wind when Geralt has his fingertips on your flustered skin. His amber eyes were heavy, focused and entirely warm as his gaze darkened in question.

"How weird must it be?"

Was it also the same feeling he had before you both went to sleep? the moment you both had when you've first arrived after going home from the swamps? That temptatious feeling that got him all frustrated for desiring you?

Thence, you continued to dance on fire, whispering your next words like a secret you never wanted to reveal. A surprising urge that got you all bashful but somehow gaining self-assurance for even saying these things out loud, especially to the man whom you were smitten with, "I...feel things that shouldn't been thought about, corrupted feelings that would describe me as sinful..."

Were you really saying all these out loud? How? Why? yes, you were and you didn't know what force has taken you to even say these out loud like a minx.

The witcher leaned down for your sake, never getting to entirely tilt your head till you were giving yourself a stiff neck. He'd had those amber eyes of him, dancing in curiousness; his eyes sharp, cimmerian and held scampishness that you never saw until today.

"---about you..." the sound was utterly guileless. His thoughts wanting nothing but to taint the purity away if he was given a chance. The silence he has been giving, blinding you into saying more; hoping he would take the chance before it even ended without you knowing, "---It's like I've wished for something that will make me suffer...makes me more curious about you than I've ever been before,"

You've held your breath, seeming to be enraptured by the witcher who wanted nothing but to melt you in his gaze. His glowing Aurum eyes enticed by the perilous spell you've cast as he cocked his head to the side, a look of mischief mixing with the curiosity drowning in his peepers.

"You are having desires," he murmured as a matter of fact, enticed by the close proximity that you both shared. His breath fanning your face in a way that got you smiling as you've genuinely thought out loud, "Scorching...desires that makes me pant like a dog in heat, Geralt."

You could feel Geralt slightly move closer, inclining his head a bit more to have a better look upon your face, the brilliance of his enchanting eyes definitely more bewitching as he was giving you the mischief that pooled around his eyes, "Which explains...last night?"

Your heart was pounding so fast as you've held onto the ends of your towel, tightly than you could ever do because playing with fire was technically not a great idea especially when it was his; feeling the apprehension starting to take over by his intimidating but fascinating presence.

"Yes. You--You didn't need to state the obvious---"

A soft yelp was released as the witcher abruptly hauled an arm around your waist, grabbing you like a basket of groceries as he pulled you closer; overlapping that personal space you needed as he peered down before you, amber eyes burning with the desire you both wanted to release. You've ogled back at the man, blinking with that vindicated look of yours as it made him crazier and unstable.

Hence, his reply made you crazier as well because the least you expected was his virtue on filling that forbidding feeling that was needed to satiate.

"I could revel those desires you have that is needed to sate," he hoarsely taunted, emphasizing his words while he somehow stared between your lips and those batting doe-eyes as he seemed to be ensorcelled by you, "---I'll indulge your curiosity all night long or even days thereafter," his next words turned breathlessly low, stirring a primal warmth that got you suddenly excited for what he could offer.

 "---If you'll let me,"

You were totally swept off your feet, maybe literally as you felt the tip of his nose tickle yours in a way that got you captivated, saying words that surely got the better of yourself as you fluttered your eyes closed, feeling his warm breath hitting your mouth enticingly palpable and peril to even experience, "God, That...was hot,"

Was that the response you only managed to create? Yes. You've honestly told the witcher he was hot when he was basically trying to woo you over and fill in those desires you wanted.

You've felt his breathing turn slow and erratic, the pillowy texture of his vermillion slightly tickling your mouth as it made your heart thump so fast that you were worried you were having a heart attack. Your eyes tightly shut just waiting to be kissed by the witcher himself as this moment was undeniably flattering.

You knew you were looking constipated while you awaited for those soft lips to land on yours. But, what you got was just a low, hushed growl and a puff of air that roughly slapped your lips as the witcher groaned out loud, his mouth momentarily whisking away that made your heart itch in a way that got you softly whining to yourself when he'd slightly leaned back.

Your nose was scrunched up to the extent of telling him that you were dismayed from the lack of lip touching like it was an intentional tease of his sly self. But, you never said it out loud to lessen the embarrassment that you wanted to kiss him that badly.

He was truly the living thirst to your randy teenage life before and a person who made you insane.

"The bard just doesn't know when to stop," his fiery, golden eyes looked through you, but it seemed to be distant as he had his eyebrows in a frustrated twist, nose also scrunched in a way that he was completely irked to the bones.

The witcher had a nasty scowl on his face. Did your breath stink?

"JASKIER." Out of nowhere, Geralt loudly exclaimed through gritted teeth, his arm around you never leaving as you stared into his eyes that also never left yours since he had you in his burly arms.

Due to your frantic state that keeps you antsy and fidgety, it decides to strike while the iron is hot. Meaning to say that you're taking the perfect opportunity to do something embarrassing. You've arduously stood on your tippy toes, struggling to reach Geralt's height before puckering those chapped lips of yours and doing the inevitable.

A quick, soft, honeyed peck on the side of Geralt's lips got him rooted on the ground, expecting it to land on those mouth of his that you've been dying to kiss but decided to taunt the big, bad witcher by pressing a peck that was dangerously close to where he wanted.

The latter was used to women who were straightforward, sexual and knew what they wanted. Thence, having a woman who's timid for wanting what she wanted was giving him a headache because of how your taunts were poking that rage of desire he had with you.

It was utmost frustrating and irksome because he wanted more.

You've dropped your feet to the ground before you heard the door creak where Jaskier emerged from and had a huge grin on his youthful pretty face, "Why, does anyone want me to rub chamomile onto their lovely bottoms?"

Geralt's hold on you slightly loosened as he looked at you with that questioning and frustrated look on his face, giving a grimace for whatever child-like kiss you have given him. It was completely unsatisfying. He didn't expect that and you couldn't help but want to snort and giggle at the same time from how stunned he appeared to be.

The witcher snapped his head to where the bard is, giving him a sharp lour that tells Jaskier that he ruined something important and he better get ready for some beating.

Jaskier gave a nonchalant shrug, "Don't give me that look, I was about to give the small rat her chamomile but it appears to be like she's having her own kind of chamomile being given by you, witcher." he roguishly muttered, wiggling his eyebrows.

You were sleek enough to slide away from Geralt's sturdy arms, swerving from his delightful presence with those butterflies flying wildly inside your stomach. A deep groan of disapproval was heard in the room when you've both given the men looks of query and saw Geralt glaring at the bard for his interruption.

Your fingers began to fidget over the hem of your towel, hair all drenched as it dripped to the ground. The citrusy scent that has been your brand lingered in the air as Jaskier gave you a once over, his pretty blue eyes scanning your indecent outfit before you've seen his adam's apple bob up and down; the bard's eyes twinkling in some sort of way that made you even more flustered.

"Ughm, I need to dress up? Bye!" you nervously exclaimed, shifting on your footing before grabbing onto the door and escaping from the eyes of both men that lingered on you.

When the door slammed shut, Geralt continued giving the bard a stinky scowl. Jaskier eyed him skeptically, muttering a defensive 'what?!' before hearing a dangerous grumble of the witcher's protests.

"Bard." Geralt gravelly warned, his mouth releasing an intense blasphemy for the defensive troubadour who tried appearing innocent like he wasn't admiring your newly bathe look, "I hope a fucking Nightwraith gelds you at night,"

YES. IT’S FOOKIN’ LONG AND Y’ALL GOTTA HANG ON TO THE NEXT CHAPTER BECAUSE IT’LL BE LIT! (Sorry if there are typos in this chapter!) FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!

Taglist: @alyxkbrl​ @himarisolace​ @barkingbullfrog​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @vania-marie​ @spookypeachx​ @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​ @nympeth​ @amirahiddleston​ @gabethelobster​ @dreaming-about-starfleet​ @uncoolcloudyhead​ @melaninstylezz​ @psychosupernatural​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​ @marvelousell​ @kingniazx​ @angelias134​ @tapismyforte​ @chook007​ @covid-donotenter​ @winter-moons @cheesecakeisapie @silverkitten547​ @angelofthor​ 

[silver-chasm]

A week ago, I made these icons of all my fursonas with all these pride flags (cause they're all trans lol). Two have a few extra flags/symbols on them, representing me

Two of the symbols you see here aren't lgbt ones. I'm not saying that what they represent should be part of the lgbt community, just that they're just as much a part of me as my queer identity

An explanation of who my fursonas are and what the flags are under the cut. I tried to be brief but some of these are a bit lengthy

1. Toxic Chasm

They're my main fursona (and the namesake of this blog). E is something called a Monsuno Sapien, a human mutated by alien essence (the species comes from the Monsuno series). She is me but more grounded and more at peace than what I was when I created him. Despite the grotesque and intimidating appearance, xe is compassionate and gentle. Chasm means a lot to me

The flags/symbols:

The bandana - genderqueer:

Genderqueer is a term that encompasses anyone who not only fall outside of the binary but also gender nonconforming people (those who "queer" their gender)

Chasm is genderqueer, partly because they contain the colours of the flag. Ze also challenges the idea of anthropomorphism with hir existence, much like how I seem to challenge the gender binary with my own existence

The garland - bigender

Bigender people have two genders. These two genders can be binary or nonbinary. A bigender individual may experience both of their genders simultaneously or shift between the two

In my case, I'm a man and a demiwoman at the same time ^-^

The hearts - bisexual and asexual

Bisexual is when you're sexually attracted to more than one gender. Asexual is when you don't experience sexual attraction. Asexuals may also still experience romantic attraction

Biromantic asexuals, like me, are physically unable to experience sexual attraction but are able to experience romantic attraction to more than one gender

The infinity symbol - neurodivergence

One of the non LGBT symbols. Neurodivergent people are those with neurodevelopmental conditions (such as autism, ADHD, dyslexia, etc) and mental health conditions (such as BPD, bipolarity, OCD, etc) and similar conditions, like schizophrenia. The infinity symbol is prominently used by autistic people, representing both the diversity of autism and neurodivergence

I'm 90% sure that I'm autistic. The other 10% is my anxiety keeping me in check

2. Korong

She is the fursona who I've had the longest (and was my primary fursona before creating Chasm). They're a giant monstrous dropbear with squid tentacles coming from her back and a second mouth on their belly. She is an absolute glutton. They are also the kind of being who would gloat about her power before trying to devour you

The flags:

The bandana - demigirl

Demigirls feel a partial but not complete connection to being a girl or woman. It is a nonbinary identity

Korong represented a past version of myself. Naturally, as I realised more about myself, she would change with me. They were never really "womanly", more monstrous than anything else

The flowers - a former vore pride flag

No, you didn't misread. This is the other non-lgbt symbol. Vorarephilia (shortened to vore) is a fetish where pleasure is derived from the idea of one being eating another (eg. snake eating a mouse, a giant holding someone in their mouth, etc). It's quite broad and typically fantastical in nature. The colours you see there belonged to a flag designed by a user here on tumblr, a genuine attempt at creating a pride symbol for vorarephiles. It wasn't a flag used outside of here. The creator has since deleted the post describing the flag, almost effectively wiping it from the internet

Korong is an embodiment of my vorarephilia. Her monstrous appearance also reflects a deep-seated shame toward this part of me I've had for years (and all for what? Strange thoughts?)

When I saw that flag and what it meant, I guess it gave me permission to feel something else towards this part of me. On top of the, the creator was reblogging vore positivity posts and posts where people were using their flag and being proud

For the longest time I thought there was something wrong with me. They showed that it's okay to be like this

Originally, I was going to draw the flag itself. I pivoted when I found that the original post (and the positivity posts) had been deleted. I drew it as hyacinths (flowers that represent grief and sincerity) because, as silly as it seems, I was dismayed that the flag and the little, safe, accepting corner of the internet had vanished. After all, what is left is a blue and purple symbol of mockery, with people disgusted that someone would think like that

I'm tired of feeling shame. As I said before, they're just strange thoughts that I cannot control. Nothing more

3. Hognose

They're a friendly Goodra, a slug dragon Pokemon. Much like the snake they're named after, Hognose has an upturned snout and a forked tongue. They're quite the skilled baker, with their favourite recipe being apple pie. They like cooking for their friends

The flag:

The bandana - agender

Agender people lack a gender, have a neutral or indefinable gender or don't identify with the concept of gender

Hognose doesn't have a gender. I forgot to give them one when creating them. Their gender expression does lean somewhat to femininity

4. Lantern

They're a baki, a goomba-like enemy from the Drawn to Life series. Technically, they've existed longer than Korong but I never considered them as a fursona. They were the mascot of my old blog thelanternwielder. They're a quiet being, tending to watch from a distance. Their eyes can cast light when its dark. They don't mind being carried by their handle (just don't swing them around too much)

The flag:

The bandana - nonbinary

Nonbinary people are those whose gender identity falls outside the man/woman binary. It's an umbrella identity, as there are many ways of not fitting in the binary

Lantern is another fursona I forgot to give a concrete gender to. And when I remembered, it didn't really make sense to gender them. They've always been a little bit unknown and mysterious, so their gender is vague and undefined to me

5. Aster

They're a fantail centipede/bee hybrid from space. Their hive lives in a moon above a resource abundant planet they collect and harvest from. Aster was one of the workers who became curious about what was beyond their planet and moon hive. So, they left and became a vagabond explorer among the stars

The flags:

On the left - agender

As it was stated, agender can mean 'genderless' and it can refer to those who don't identify with the concept of gender. Aster falls into the latter category as gender is a bizarre and foreign concept to them

On the right - intersex

Intersex people are those who were born with variation in sex characteristics that are 'atypical' from male and female sex characteristics. This can manifest in a number of ways, as sex is made up of several components. Intersex people can have any gender identity

In Aster's case, they are completely sexless. Their anatomy does not conform to the 'typical' sexes of humans (male and female). They are typical for their species, as many workers tend to be sexless

6. Hugs

He is a spotted hyena pyromancer who dances with fire. He's all about having fun and showing off his skill. He's easygoing and relaxed. His power comes from cinnabar he's imbued with

The flag:

The bandana - transgender

Being transgender is not identifying with the gender assigned to you at birth. Contrary to what some may assume, this does include nonbinary people (what do you think the white stripe in the flag represents?)

Hugs is trans guy. He's the only one here who has a binary gender

7. Alezan

He's the only child among my fursonas and the only one who was designed by someone else. They were designed by chibitacolord (here on tumblr!) He's an elfish fox child whose design is based on the raposa from Drawn to Life. Alezan mostly lives in the woods by themself, proclaiming himself to be 'the prince of the woods'. They're quite mischievous and playful. He loves flowers. They would be a florist if he was older

The flag:

The garland - genderflux

This is when the intensity of a particular gender changes. It can be considered a type of genderfluidity where the gender changes between something and nothing

Alezan is boyflux. The intensity of being a boy changes for them. Being so young, he doesn't quite have all the words to describe how he feels sometimes

8. Lasso

They're a strange being who has the body of an ox, the head of a humanoid crab and draconic wings. Their design is based on lamassu, ancient Mesopotamian guardian deities, and my Chinese and Western zodiac signs. Lasso was a being who was created at the edge of reality itself. As a result, they're incredibly inquisitive. They are also quite protective once they get attached to you

The flag:

The bandana - aitherogender

This is a xenogender. Some people feel that usual language around gender isn't able to describe the gender identity they experience, so they use metaphors to describe it. Aitherogender is an ethereal and otherworldly gender that is almost impossible to describe with written or spoken medium. It was originally intended for neurodivergent people but anyone can use the term

Given where Lasso came from, it would be likely that their gender wouldn't conform to human expectation or understanding of gender, let alone be able to be described in human language (or any language). I just thought it would be neat for them to have an otherworldly gender when they themself are otherworldly

[ardentmuse]

Hey, Lia! Congrats on your 2k! You deserve every bit of happiness! If it's not too much to ask... I'd like number 37 with Robb Stark (or Scott Lang, if it's too complicated with Robb). Thank you so much! Sending all the love!

A Lord Needs A Lady

Game of Thrones - Robb Stark x fem!Reader

37. I’d say it’s like 50 million simultaneous orgasms, but better.

Wordcount: 2.1k (remember that time I said these would be less that 1k, lols!)

Warnings: talk of drunkenness, implied sexuality, implied nudity, aged-up Robb

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for requesting this because I love GoT so much I am still in the weeds healing my heart from the finale. This was such fun to write. 

The dew upon the ground turned to frost in just the few hours since sunset, crunching under your feet with each memorized step. Winter had yet to begin properly but the chill of the northern air on nights like this made it hard to tell the difference. 

You could hear the sounds of the feast in the great hall of the castle; jolly songs of wartime victories and beautiful maidens, the clang of mugs upon wooden tables, the rowdy laughter of men speaking words within the walls of such a noble house that should be saved for the brothels, and the groping hands – so many groping hands – were enough to put you off your dinner. Winterfell had been abuzz since the moment King Robert and his cohort had arrived, just a mess of chaos of courtly duties. 

Honestly, you had trained for this sort of thing your whole life as a ward of the Starks and daughter of nobles in your own right, but seeing the ways of the southern houses in earnest made you quite glad for the lands of your birth. Calm, honorable, and hardy were your people, people who understood that the food they ate and the wine they drank and the fire that warmed them took time and effort to come into being, that people had to put work into creating comfort and that work should not go unappreciated or uncompensated. Fortitude and respect were the values you saw befitting of a noble and on display at the high table of the Stark family great hall at the moment was nothing of the sort. When you thought of good leadership, you couldn’t help but picture Lord Stark and the son he had raised to take his place, men truly worthy of your loyalty and, in the latter’s case, worthy of even more. 

The sounds faded in full as you became surrounded by a soft canopy of trees. The crunching of your feet was drowned out by the soft babble of the hot spring before you and the wanderings of your mind were eliminated by the imposing presence of the weirwood tree before you, impossibly beautiful and haunting all at once. No one seemed to enter the godswood nowadays, least of all your southern visitors. There was no better place to be alone.

The chilly wind rushed through your hair as you took in the steam rising off the water. Slowly, you undid the ties of your cloak, a dark grey wool lined with the warmest fur and embellished in white flowers, a gift from Sansa as she practiced her stitches last year. Your dress flowed from your hips in a beautiful cascade of aquamarine, not much different from the waters that tempted you right now. Your hands moved off their own accord as you took in the silence of the night. Each bow and lace fell open with your breathing. Calm and peace was this place. You hated the thoughts that filled your mind of just how that might change forever with your latest arrivals. 

The cloth pooled at your feet and soon you were covered in a chill, goose pimples lining your exposed arms and shins as your shift and smallclothes did little to maintain your body temperature. You tested the waters before you with your toe and were about to step in when you remembered yourself. You reached up and removed that small golden clasp that held the crown of your hair out of the way. Now you were fit for the waters. 

Feeling like Elenei herself, you took graceful steps into the waters, like your body was returning to its home. You felt the warmth immediately as the white cloth of your small clothes stuck to your skin leaving nothing to the imagination. But this was a cleansing ritual, a removal of the grim of the south and a return to the purity of your true form. You were a goddess of winter, one with the weirwoods, and here, away from the wretched queen and her handsy guards, you felt like yourself once again. 

You closed your eyes, letting the minutes pass by, feeling truly at home.

“My lady,” a voice called from the other end of the godswood. 

Immediately, your eyes shot open and you made to protect your modesty, but the night was dark, only the moon shining through the thick layer of trees above. You could hardly make out the form in the trees. 

“I was hoping I might find you here,” said the man who now slowly moved towards you. His voice removed any tension you had felt at being caught in a compromised position. Robb moved with cautious steps, giving you a moment to sink deeper into the water, always a gentleman. 

“My lord,” you stuttered as you moved to grab your clothes, though the rise of his hand stopped you. 

“You know, it’s just Robb, Y/N. I’ve had enough ‘m’ lord’s’ for one day,” Robb said before taking a seat upon the rocks a safe distance from you. He leaned forward with his hands upon his knees and back bent in exhaustion. The moonlight caught the red of his hair, so styled at the moment compared to the loose fall of curls you were so used to seeing. The sharp line of his jaw that had grown so strong since you were small children playing hide and seek in these woods was locked tight in concentration. This was a man sitting before you, with all the seriousness of his father at the moment. 

“Then, Robb, what brings you out here?”

“You,” he said immediately, looking up to meet your gaze. He smiled that half-smile you liked so much and all the Ned of his form somehow washed away, “Knew you’d find a way to sneak away the moment the drink started flowing.” 

You laughed. He did have you pegged. 

“Is there something wrong with wanting a moment of peace and quiet?” 

“Yes,” his voice was stern and serious; “You’re supposed to invite me with you.” 

You both sat in silence for a moment before Robb bust out laughing. 

“Gods, I just waltz over here while you’re bathing, didn’t I?” 

You watched him for a moment, enjoying seeing the boy once again behind the lord he was so quickly becoming.

“Yes, you did,” you said with a smile, “Though having you interrupt me isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice a little too high. You thought you saw a bit of pink on his cheeks as the clouds moved through, revealing new light into your clearing. 

You simply nodded before resting once again deep against the stones that lined your pool. Together you enjoyed your silent companionship once more. You mind was clear except for the gentle breathing of the handsome man before you. When had he grown so dashing, it was hard to tell. One day you were tiny things, playing house in these woods, climbing trees and sharing secrets as you each skipped out of your lessons. And now here you were, a man and woman grown, as close as two could be without a cloak upon your shoulder and a vow upon your lips. 

Little did you know, Robb had placed that vow upon his own lips as soon as he understood what love was. The cloak was simply a formality.

Robb shrugged off his cloak. “How is it in there, anyway?” He nodded towards the water, the steak almost obscuring your vision at this point with how the cold had rolled in. 

You sighed in enjoyment of the warmth upon your skin. “I’d say it’s like 50 million simultaneous orgasms, but better.” 

Robb chuckled to himself before coughing, “Whoever has been giving you orgasms is clearly failing you.” 

You felt your cheeks grow hot the way only Robb words or touch could ever do to you. But somehow, despite how much you knew such talk was wrong when you heard it in the halls of Winterfell, here with Robb in the eyes of the old gods, it felt completely natural. 

“How dare you insult my hands so. They are lovely hands, I’d have you know!” 

You watched Robb swallow, unable to meet your eyes anymore. 

He hesitated before speaking once again, so quiet you worried what he said wasn’t meant for your ears, “No one has ever helped you in such a way?”

“No, Robb,” you whispered, realizing only now that you wouldn’t mind Robb helping you in such ways, “If you recall, I was raised a lady.” 

“A beautiful lady,” he said into the night, “A remarkably beautiful lady.” 

You felt your breath catch in your chest and only after a moment were you able to look up and meet the pleading blue eyes of the boy you loved so, the lord of your heart as much as of your lands and your home. 

“A lord needs such a lady,” he added as he stood and took hesitant steps towards you. You couldn’t breathe as his form grew closer, like a mountain moving before you, shifting the seas of your heart with each step. Somehow, in all of this chaos, the love of children had grown into something earth-shattering, something worth sacrificing your honor for. 

He reached the edge of the pool, his eyes never leaving yours and never dipping to look below the waters, clear enough to reveal to him the parts of yourself meant to stay hidden. His hands played with the clasps of his doublet.

“May I?” he asked. And no matter what he meant, you knew in that moment the answer was yes.

With you nod, Robb began to disrobe, his clothes slowly forming a pile beside your own, separate but together, just as you two seemed to always be. 

You had seen Robb without his shirt before as you watched the men train in the yard but this was different. This was meant for your eyes, Robb bearing himself for you in earnest, his heart exposed as much as his body. And soon he too was sinking into the warm pools of the gods had left for such unions, the swirling waters pulling you together like stars in orbit.

He sunk down to his shoulders as he bobbed towards you. Your knees touched as he came as close as he dared, his eyes still never leaving yours. Their piercing blue seemed so warm in the glow of the moonlight, a different kind of water you now desired to swim in. 

“Father is leaving before the next moon,” he whispered. Robb’s hand hesitantly came to touch your jaw, your ear, the soft skin of you neck. His touch sent shivers wherever it went but you held still, afraid your movement might scare him away. But Robb was a wolf, and wolves are not so easily deterred from their prey, not that you wouldn’t gladly be eaten if he so desired it.

Robb continued, “I’ll be Lord of Winterfell in truth.” He moved closer, his skin pressing against your wet clothes, against your body that lie just underneath them. The warmth of him was so much more intoxicating that the waters ever could be. “And a lord needs a lady.” 

His hand moved to your chin as he tilted your head up to him look at him again. The softness you saw there, only for you, made it clear that it was a question and not a statement. It only took you a moment to nod, a promise before the old gods that the man before you was yours and you were his. 

With a bright smile, Robb leaned forward and kissed you. His hand found your lower back and pulled you flush to him and your whole body lit on fire. No night had ever been warmer.

And as your hands found firm grip in his long auburn locks, you knew too that the cloak was just a formality.

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills, @hazelandcoconuts, @yallgotkik

[things2mustdo]

We are all too familiar with the SJWs’ “muh feelings” pose. We are also familiar with the Leftists’ manipulative stance, be it through their sanctimonious bullying, guilt-tripping, appeals to a pseudo-consensus, veiled threats, or constant emotional blackmailing. The maelstrom of emotions the Left plays with makes tempting to withdraw emotionally. We might be led to think that the higher good lies in “cold, hard facts” alone. But if we do so, we easily forget that cold facts do not prompt for any action, and if we merely describe while trying to get emotionally disconnected, we cut ourselves off the game.

Passions are part of the game

When the infamous Karl Marx wrote that modern capitalism “drowned the most heavenly ecstasies of religious fervour, of chivalrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical calculation,” he had a point. The bourgeois world of classic modernity is emotionally lacking, and both the bohemian artistry and Communist radical politics stepped up to fulfill the void. This historical point is still relevant today. Conservatives fail to make stands because they are much more passionate about their personal interest than about defending anything they pretend to stand for. SJWs, on the other hand, went very far into shrieking and bullying because they are usually passionate for their points. Different motivations lead to different outcomes. And a strong motivation, not to say a deep or passionate commitment, greatly helps to build a strong character.

The far-left was able to pick up people’s passions because the bourgeois would not, and perhaps could not, do that. The bourgeois idea of progress was about people becoming farm animals, individuals reduced to the status of producers and consumers in a world where nothing really new or interesting could appear anymore. In such a world, there is no need for passions and no need for politics, isn’t it? Well, the individuals would not let themselves get boiled down to the status of mere economical agents, and many preferred embracing some ridiculous strand of new-age spirituality, worthless artistry or even becoming Communists than living through the bourgeois-conservative nothingness..

Rejecting the passions and emotions, or at the very least trying to put them aside as to ignore them, made men weak and unable to take a stance. It has also made women unhinged, shameless, and willing to do anything for short-term pleasure, as no men were able to give them a proper sense of boundaries. Plus, passions being powerful motivators, the far-left mastery when it comes to stirring some made it tremendously powerful as well.

We must face passions, not as an annoyance, but as a resource that has to be mastered. This is true for ourselves and others. First, when we are aware of our emotional states without being directly prompted (“triggered”) by them, we gain the ability to choose consciously what we do and want to do, and can follow our own intuitions instead of getting framed by an alien narrative. Second, when we are also aware of others’ emotional states, we can steer them in a specific direction.

The latter is especially true for women: today, they follow fashions and MSM approval, when not following their own sluttiness and attention-whoring… but if men were able to reward, shame, and inspire proper passions in them, they would follow us instead. If we want this to happen, we have to take over the empire of passions and stir up some emotions in the public’s hearts, be it through discourse, artwork, or daily conversations. Here are three emotions I think we should be keen to stir.

1. Empathy

According to Dr. Neel Burton,

Empathy can be defined as a person’s ability to recognize and share the emotions of another person, fictional character, or sentient being. It involves, first, seeing someone else’s situation from his perspective, and, second, sharing his emotions, including, if any, his distress. (Burton, Heaven and Hell, chap.21, p.153)

As empathy fits well with maternal instinct and motivates nurturing tendencies, women are naturally prone to it. Up until a very recent time, they took care of babies and small children, participated to local charities, worked in shelters for the homeless or went through menial but important tasks as nurses. They did so because their natural empathy motivated them to act this way.

By contrast, a striking feature of feminism is that it destroys womanly empathy and nurturing tendencies. From a feminist point of view, men are enemies or at the very least potential oppressors and children are a burden. Feminism reverses the empathy, turns it into defiance or even hatred. Worse: after women have lost their ability to feel positively towards the men they should at least respect, cultural Marxism stirs their natural empathy towards “minority” identities. Thus we see grrls caring about thugs, invaders, or weirdos, who are all positively portrayed in the media, more than they care about what should be their community.

The lack of empathy is also a problem among white men. Though black men often exert violence against each other, the majority of them always bonds when it comes to attacking the depleted white majority. The same goes for any community out there: they empathize with each other more than they would ever empathize with us. We, white men, are the only ones who do the exact opposite by being hypercritical against each other when we should actually be supportive and look at the positive rather than the negative.

There should be a lot more empathy towards us than there currently is. Others should be more sensitive to our plight, suffer when we suffer, or at least feel compelled to suffer when we do. We are the proximate [prochain?], not the Big Other. We, too, should have more empathy among ourselves: nice guys, for example, should not be considered as “jerks” or “bastards,” as say some red-pilled guys who seem to have internalized a negative framing, but as misled victims who proved some nobility by trying to conciliate “respect” for women with the healthy desire to get a deeper relationship. Along the same lines, the working- or middle-class average Joe who got disenfranchised should be painted on a positive and humane light so that wealthy liberals cannot ignore or merely sneer at him.

2. Hope

Here is an emotion the Left has really abused from. Remember 2007-8, when the first “black” president was supposed to end the racial tensions in the US as well as the neocon foreign wars? Democrat activists at that time wrote without batting an eyelid about their hope for a world without losers, for an outcome where everyone would win. Then, the racial tensions have never been so high, the white majority is more dispossessed than ever, and the same liberals who were trumpeting about a world without losers have no shame calling us losers—from their choices and politics. Hope has been abused from, and we have to take it back. In fact, we have already started to.

Hope can be defined as the desire for something to happen combined with an anticipation of it happening. It is the anticipation of something desired… To hope for something is to desire that thing, and to believe, rightly or wrongly, that the probability of it happening, though less than 1, is greater than 0. (Neel Burton, Heaven and Hell, chap.14, p.103)

Trump is a wild card who comes with no guarantee, for sure. He still gives us something no Obama could ever give us—hope. The Alt-Right, manosphere, and the whole flourishing of high-quality dissenting intellectual efforts give us hope as well. Someone wrote that “the Alt-Right represents the first new philosophical competitor to liberalism, broadly defined, since the fall of Communism.” Someone else, here on ROK, noticed that more and more women were fed up with misandric grievance-mongering and longed to become mothers. These trends are more than interesting: they seem to point towards a better future that we still have to conquer.

On the other side, the liberal status quo and Hillary in particular mean pure hopelessness. If Hillary gets elected, we will have even less jobs, anti-white and anti-male organized groups will attack even more, the wealthy globalists will get fatter at our expense, and so on. Interestingly, liberals today use arguments of a conservative kind: when they shriek something as “the 5 last US presidents tell you not to vote for Trump” or “the Alt-Right and deplorables are un-American,” they look more like McCarthyists than hippies. They are the establishment clinging to the status quo and worsening. We are the embodiment of hope for a positive change.

3. Love

While hope should be spread among any decent people and is pretty straightforward once we agree on the intrinsic value of its object, love appears a bit trickier. In a relationship, whoever loves the other most is dominated whereas who loves less has more room to take action. If a man falls in love, he falls in the sense that he gets dumbed down, pedestalizes the girl, who in turn will get bored and look for a more challenging partner. Thus, seduction must be used to stir love in women: they must love us as well as their children. Both as a mistress and a mother, both as sexual and nurturing, a woman exerts love.

In men, love must be exerted in a more distilled and thoughtful form: when we protect our dear ones, toil for them, care about their interests, these efforts are an expression of love as well—although this form of love must be more distant as to allow ampler room for action. In any case, the feminine element must love the most and more directly.

It should be added that masculine and feminine can be conceived, not only as absolute, but also as relative terms. Esotericists consider that we are all “feminine” when considered under a higher point of view: the most fierce, courageous and risk-taking warrior remains “feminine” relatively to a genuine spiritual authority, and any human is “feminine” relatively to God as the ultimate Father. The Bible compares the good ones to a bride that shall get married to God (Revelation, 19). Hinduism recommends bhakti or devotion, i.e. religious love, to those belonging to the warrior caste, whereas the spiritual authority is more “masculine” as it enjoys a higher and more direct knowledge of God. These considerations might seem a bit far-fetched, but they were already highly relevant before the tiniest stint of modern degeneracy was born. Just remember that being in love is acceptable for a man as long as it never equates to pedestalizing a woman.

Conclusion

Passions and emotions matter. If we set them aside as irrelevant, someone else will push our emotional buttons—and the girls’—and spin us in no time. The philosopher René Descartes wrote that “all the good and the bad in this life depend from the passions” and that we had better be able to use them wisely. Ironically, the word “Cartesian” now denotes a logical, rationalistic, supernatural-denying mindset. This is accurate for the young Descartes, who was among the top scientists of his time, but tosses aside an important twist: the philosopher eventually lost his only daughter, Francine, and the sadness he felt while mourning her made him aware of the power of emotions. Yet, instead of being dominated by said emotions, Descartes strove to gain cogency about them, and he wrote a very interesting little treatise to expand a whole theory of the “passions of the soul.”

Our case is the same. Most if not all of us have been blue-pilled since infancy. Cultural Marxism was shoveled down our throat by school teachers, media figures, movies, social pressure. At each step of this process, our emotions were stirred and directed by spinsters so that, for example, we would feel a high empathy for so-called minorities while ignoring the homeless “white males” dying of cold at winter.

Ride the tiger of your own emotions and of (some) others’ as well if you don’t want sinister globalists to.

https://www.returnofkings.com/11010/how-to-control-your-emotional-state

We all have our ups and downs. Some days you feel on top of the world, you ooze a sexy masculine confidence that women love whereas other days you couldn’t be bothered to shave — you scowl at the thought of doing anything interesting and avoid all outside contact. Many guys accept this with a “que sera, sera” mentality. They feel it is just the natural ebb and flow of things, that taming your emotional state would be too chaotic of a task.

Those who do wish to change usually use hokey terminology talking about “energy” and the “universe.” They’ll seek guidance from another source so that they do not have to take responsibility for letting their emotions get out of check. People also seek a quick cure for a continual state of happiness, but what they do not realize is that happiness is transient.

I do believe there is a way to wrangle your emotions that relies on you, your habits and the power you have to respond to various stimuli. Essentially you must minimize the negativity and maximize the positivity in your life by altering certain habits.

Minimize Habits That Lead To Negativity

Take a moment to think about any time you’ve lost control of your emotions. When did you last get angry, depressed, hateful, etc.? What do you do when you’re out talking to girls that hurts your success? Do you have unreasonable limiting beliefs? Do you believe you always need to be happy to be successful? Do you get frustrated when you have anxiety because of any of the above?

If you think about the above long enough and are mindful when such emotional states occur you will begin to notice a trend in what triggers them.

For me the biggest habits that lead to a negative state of mind, in which I lacked motivation, was depressed, and stayed inside all day, were my nutritional habits. I started to recognize a pattern: I’d go out drinking or eat highly processed foods, I’d wake up the next day tired and dehydrated, then I’d stay inside all day watching movies because I didn’t want to go to the gym or talk to people. The cycle would just endlessly repeat until the natural ebb and flow of things took me to a high point.

Maximize Habits That Lead To Positivity

Repeat the exercise above. When was the last time you felt on top of the world, when did you last feel invincible, when did you last have no anxieties? When were you on fire when talking to girls, what were you doing that made you so successful? What were the thoughts running through your head?

Again if you pay attention you will begin to see patterns. You’ll start to realize what habits lead to a great mood.

For me I felt the best when ‘rewarded’ with something. Whether it was having great sex, sharing something with a friend, new PRs in the gym, busting my ass in the library and getting a good grade, or learning a new skill.

The Keystone Habit

Roosh brought up keystone habits in a recent article titled “One Approach A Day.” Essentially it is an innocuous habit that has a much larger effect than planned.

For me I started a few keystone habits: I started the day off with a nice cold glass of lemon water and my vitamins. In doing this I started drinking more and more water leading me to be less dehydrated, more energetic and making better food choices.

I also made a rule that as soon as I start talking myself out of something reasonable I would force myself to do whatever it was I was trying to rationalize my way out of. Maybe I’d start thinking “I’m kind of sore and I still haven’t seen the new episode of Game of Thrones, I think I’ll go to the gym later.” I know I wouldn’t go to the gym later so I would immediately get up and put on my workout gear. Just by doing this I started getting in the mood for lifting — I’ve also heard of guys packing a gym bag every night and leaving it in their car.

The peaks and troughs of our emotional state should not define us. As a man, whether it be through eliminating negative triggers or forming positive habits, you should be fully in control of your emotions. Use the power of a keystone habit to enact much larger scale change so you can be in a perpetual state of positivity, or at the very least, neutrality.

Read Also: How To Change Your Bad Habits

[monaedroid]

Janelle Monáe: Trans Folks to the Front    

Story by Peyton Dix

Sometimes it's hard to be proud during Pride. Janelle Monáe attended her first ever Pride parade this June in New Orleans. That same day a(nother) trans woman of color by the name of Layleen Polanco was found dead in her cell at Rikers. The 27-year-old House of Xtravaganza member is one of 12 trans women killed this year on record, and underlines an increasing issue of violence against Queer and Trans People of Color (QTPOC). Although these exist separately, Pride is oftentimes a month that makes it much easier to focus on the former (parades, rainbows and glitter that gets stuck in your hair for years) instead of the latter (the fact that many queer people are still largely at risk of violence and oppression).

Over the phone, Monáe unpacks parts of her past and dives into the 2018 Grammy-nominated Dirty Computer, but her passion pops out elsewhere. She mostly leans into battling bullies ("We have to be taught how to deal with bullies and bullies need to be taught the repercussions of bullying somebody"), creating active change ("Sexual identity needs to be taught in school. There should be courses on mental health, how to coexist, how we can all learn from each other"), and the importance of empowering and standing up for QTPOC ("In the same way we want white folks to support us and be better allies and use their privilege to make change in those power dynamics, it's up to us to protect those who may not be as privileged").

Throughout the conversation, Monáe is steady in the way she speaks, but her tone shifts and her pace increases when reaching these topics. The performer's anger and sadness are palpable and warranted. "I look to Indya Moore, Mj Rodriquez, Janet Mock (my Pose family)... Laverne Cox, those women are putting themselves and their lives on the frontline everyday. When their trans sisters and brothers get murdered, they feel it. We have to support them... It's just a responsibility I feel. I could do better. I'll do better."

This isn't the first time Monáe, someone at the epicenter of pop culture, has recentered the narrative to focus more on one of the most othered groups in the LGBTQ community instead of herself. Although Monáe can only attest to her own experiences, she has actively made sure to advocate, and make space, for her entire LGBTQIA community. Her performance of Dirty Computer's "Americans" on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert opens on Pose star Mj Rodriquez, who's trans, before the camera slowly pulls out to reveal a group of POC femmes holding each other. She sings a song that says:

Until women can get equal pay for equal work This is not my America Until same gender loving people can be who they are This is not my America Until black people can come home from a police stop Without being shot in the head This is not my America

Monáe publicly dedicated her two Grammy nominations to her "trans brothers and sisters," who she says "are shunned from these sorts of events." Institutional award shows, including the Grammys, are inherently and historically spaces of white, cis, male privilege. While they have recently gotten Blacker, our understanding of diversity must always continue to grow more intersectional. This is part of what Monáe is working toward herself, and advocating for from her audience.

Dirty Computer itself was an honoring of the 'other,' full of anthems for the ostracized. The genesis of the project was birthed from her understanding of Monáe's own self. Her "walking in truth" got her two Grammy nods, a GLAAD Media Award for Outstanding Music Artist, and was named one of the Albums of the Year by The New York Times, Complex, TIME, and Rolling Stone, among others.

But it isn't these accolades that make Monáe proud. In fact, it was her choice to do something scary, to take a risk and tell the truth, and thankfully that resonated. "I'm just happy that my personal story has also been personal stories for so many other people. There's so many young people who grew up in the South or Baptist families, who were told that they won't be accepted by Christ. They can listen to this album and feel hugged. They can feel loved. They can feel seen. They can feel heard. That's the most beautiful thing." Monáe's fans were not just able to find parallels with her journey, but able to find validation in being "dirty." With this album she extended an open hand.

"Folks who are not comfortable speaking out about your sexuality publicly, we see you and you are valid and you matter."

Right before dropping Dirty Computer Monáe came out as pansexual in Rolling Stone, calling herself a "free ass motherf*cker." She reinforced that notion with songs like "Make Me Feel," "Crazy, Classic, Life," and "Django Jane." She solidified it every time she championed free gender expression with her clothing, and drove home the point when her boob winked at us this past Met Gala. Monáe is so exceptionally herself, so sacred in her skin, which shines not only through her music but in her powerful roles in 2016 films Moonlight and Hidden Figures Her character in Moonlight, Teresa, a pseudo-guardian to the young, Black, gay protagonist Chiron, sees many parallels with Monáe herself. She is strong, proud, protective, nurturing and poised. But that wasn't always the case.

Monáe grew up in Kansas City in a Baptist church, with a Christian family and in shoes very different from the ones she walks in now. She remembers being quite young when she realized she was queer, and although the vocabulary wasn't there, the feelings were. "I was like eight," she remembers. "I don't think I actually knew how I identified. I knew that I was attracted to women, girls, men, boys. I knew that." Like many LGBTQIA+ people raised in more rural and religious areas, Monáe found it difficult to ask those questions without feeling ostracized.

"I've seen people get beat up because they were considered to be 'too feminine' or 'too masculine' for how they identified," she says. Some of those people were family friends, including a gay male friend of her aunt's, whom she watched be shunned from his community. "It was because of Black men who thought he was trying to come onto them, but he wasn't," Monáe says, "It was their own ignorance and insecurity and fear that led them to lash out. When I saw that..." her voice trails off. "To be a gay Black man, and Black men are like the 'heads of the households' and I'm a Black woman, this young kid. I thought, then it's really over for me."

Imagining that side of Monáe's experience is difficult now that she's cultivated such a strong and specific voice around queer politics and gender identity. It's hard to imagine that side of her experience having seen her on her Dirty Computer tour last year, and having been part of the sea of voices in Madison Square Garden shouting "I'm dirty, I'm proud" back at her. Pride has become such a staple in her narrative and her art.

But this month it's all too easy to feel forced into living your most out and proud life, when for many that's actually much easier said than done. "We have to make sure that we don't pressure people to come out," Monáe says. "Everybody doesn't have the same set of circumstances. There are people, young people in particular, that will be cut off from their family, hanged or jailed if they walked in their truth. Folks who are not comfortable speaking out about your sexuality publicly, we see you and you are valid and you matter. We have to protect our babies, especially in the LGBTQIA+ community. We have to do better. "

Photographer: Kelia Anne 1st Assistant: Carlos Quinteros Jr. Gaffer: Brandon Waddell Hair: Nikki Nelms Makeup: Jessica Smalls Stylist: Alexandra Mandelkorn Nails: Kim Truong & Diem Truong (using KISS Nails at Star Touch Agency) Location: Smashbox Studios

http://www.papermag.com/janelle-monae-pride-2638969039.html

[gardenofkore]

“As you enter the church your eyes will be at once be attracted to the figure of the Madonna Nera and Child dominating the nave from their angel-born throne above the High Altar. The wooden statue, above 1 m high, with Nigra sum Sed formosa inscribed underneath, shows a great resembling between Mother and Child, both sumptuously crowned and robed in white and gold. Her face recalls that of a gypsy or a good witch, not dissimilar to her sisters of Dijon and Guadalupe.Her legend is as follows: She was brought from the east on a ship forced to seek safe heaven in the bay, which was once the splendid ancient harbour of Tyndaris.After the storm the ship would not move until the sailors disembarked the image in the place the Madonna had chosen. She was carried up the hill to the small church that had been built on the ruins of the Temple of Cybele, since when her cult has never ceased to flourish.”

Ean C. M. Begg, The Cult of the Black Virgin, p. 277-278

----

“When we review the attributes of the goddesses, from the early civilization of Sumer to the highly artistic civilizations of Greece and Rome, we discover that the characteristics they [Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene] shared were physical beauty, virginity, association with the moon and the tragic death, or deliberate sacrifice, of a sonlover.With this in mind, consider the image of Mary, mother of Jesus. She is worshiped as the Virgin Mary. Indeed, it is her virginity (the state of being chaste, not the original meaning of the word) which sets her apart from other women. Mary is also associated with the cosmos, often being called Queen of Heaven. To depict her heavenly beauty, she is frequently pictured enthroned on the moon. Her primary association is with her son, who is sacrificed; Mary's role as a wife is negligible. Despite these parallels with the image of the goddess, Mary is conventionally associated solely with the maternal aspect of the feminine—static and protective. The dynamic, transforming aspect, related to the passion, sexuality and fertility of the love goddesses, is conspicuously lacking.

However, there are other correlations between Mary and the ancient chthonic goddesses which, though not commonly known, are operative in collective consciousness. In a small number of cathedrals throughout Europe, both in popular and isolated places, a black madonna is venerated. She is not the more familiar, angelic madonna in the blue cloak, but one as black as the earth itself. She belongs to the lower world, not the heavenly realm.From prehistoric times, as early as thirty thousand years before the beginning of the Christian era, comes the Black Venus of Lespugue, carved from a mammoth tusk, now preserved in the Musée de l'Homme in Paris. As she predates a time when any knowledge of agriculture existed, she is more than earth; she is Life itself. Other black feminine images, symbolic of the chthonic life force, have been worshiped throughout the ages.

In Tindari, on the coast of Mediterranean in eastern Sicily, a black statue of the madonna bears the inscription, nigra sum sed formosa -”I am black, but comely”- from the Song of Solomon 1:5. Christian scholars interpret this passage as referring to a bride, the Virgin Mary as Ecclesia, uniting in marriage with the bridegroom, her son Christ. It appears to be founded in the sacred marriage rite of Ishtar and Tammuz, since there are many parallers between the ancient cuneiform tablets and this Old Testament text. Could not this “black and comely” madonna be a product of the far more ancient image of the goddess?

[...]

When women adapted to the religious tenets of the patriarchy, they also accepted man's image of his anima as an accurate reflection of feminine nature. They thereby lost their connection to the genuine feminine, including the chthonic aspects represented by the black madonna.Many black madonnas are currently valued as religious symbols, but far more numerous are images of the conventional "blue" madonnna. The latter, as anima, inspired men to build impressive cathedrals and create beautiful works of art, but she lacks a crucial dimension of feminine nature. The black madonna, associated with both the earth and fertility, is an image of the divine feminine reflecting the ancient connection between women's nature and the goddess of love. Through her, the Great Goddess still lives in Christianity.”

Nancy Qualls-Corbett, The sacred prostitute: eternal aspect of the feminine, p. 152-154

  ----

“According to the legendary arrival of the Black Madonna of Tindari, the ship that was carrying her image was forced to take anchor in the Bay of Tindari in a storm, and was not allowed to sail until her image was taken from the ship, where it was then carried to the former temple site of the Goddess Cybele. 

[...]  

 The sanctuary of Tindari sits on a high bluff on the northern shore of Sicily. A woman from a far-away country had come to fulfill a vow to the Madonna of Tindari for saving her little girl's life. When the woman reached the sanctuary, after a long journey, she openly expressed her disillusionment upon seeing that the Madonna's face was black. The moment she expressed her irreverence, her little girl, who had wandered away from her mother, fell from a cliff. The woman called upon the Madonna to again save her child's life. But the miracle had already happened - the sea had withdrawn so the girl could fall on soft sand. The woman now believed in the divine powers of the Madonna she had mocked and the sea stayed at a distance permanently as a reminder of what had happened. 

[...] 

Sometimes the versions of a story of a punishing miracle varied, with important details missing. Only one of several sources mentioned the punishment by the Madonna of Tindari,for example. Carroll also cites a case in which a modern account of a miracle leaves out the harmful details included in older accounts.This leads me to wonder whether elements of other stories have been dropped over time. Considering the patterns in the body of above miracles, at one time there may have been a full cycle of the Madonna's anger, punishment, forgiveness and healing in more of them. Perhaps, like the alteration of the dark color of the images that other scholars and I have found, elimination of the details of the stories is a kind of "emotional whitening," a gradual removal of the Madonna's "full" range of power, including those we might consider to be negative.I must state that I never got a sense at any of the dozens of Black Madonna sanctuaries I visited that these most powerful Madonnas were feared. On the contrary they appeared to be greatly beloved. The fervor and devotion was palpable. I observed the utter closeness of the people to the Madonna. The Black Madonnas of Montevergine, Somma Vesuviana, and Napoli are all addressed as Mamma, a clearly familiar form of address. Songs and prayers use familiar (rather than formal) pronouns and indicate an endearing and close relationship. Chiseled in marble above the area where the painting of the Black Madonna of Montevergine once hung are the words which translate "You Are Black And Beautiful, My Friend." 

The Black Madonna's devotees may feel reassurance from her ferocity, like the women in southern India who believe the fierce goddess Kali's power is there to protect them. Perhaps the severe punishment that was attributed to the Madonna's power was a way for the women to ensure the rules were respected, that the sacred was preserved, and to emphasize that the great honor due the Madonna must never be violated.” 

Mary Beth Moser, Blood Relics: Menstrual Roots of Miraculous Black Madonnas in Italy, p. 6; 9-11

 ----

“It is a well known fact that sanctuaries dedicated to Mary were often built on sites that were originally used for the veneration of pagan goddesses. The same development could have happened in regard to statues, particularly when the statue of the Virgin is black in color. Shrines of earthgoddesses were scattered all over Europe, as are venerated statues of the "Black Madonna," which can be found in great numbers from Great Britain to Hungary and Poland. In none of them with which I am familiar can negroid features be detected; therefore, they are not black because of their race. In some cases the material from which they are made is black; in other cases, it is claimed that accumulated dirt and soot may account for their color. This explanation, usually given by Roman Catholic scholars, does not explain why the whole body of the statue turned black, even under the clothing, and not just the face and hands. And what about those to which none of these arguments apply? One answer lies at hand: they are black because they represent earth, the mother of all. That Christians could so easily think of Mary as black should not be surprising. Not only was the relationship between Mary and the virgin earth long established, from quite early the Song of Songs was interpreted in the church in a Marian way. This love song was explained as referring to the relationship between Christ and the church, his bride; since the church was identified with Mary, the song could be also be applied to the love of God and Mary; and the female lover in the Song of Songs is black: "I am black but beautiful, Ο daughters of Jeruselem."

Thus nothing stands in the way of seeing in the veneration of the Black Madonnas a continuation of the popular piety with which the great mystery of earth was honored. In some areas of Europe the roots of this piety, such as that of the Celts, may go back to pre-Roman times. It may have been Artemis or Isis who inspired the cult. In Tindari, Sicily, the Madonna Nera is in a church erected on the site of a former sanctuary of Cybele.”

Stephen Benko, The Virgin Goddess: Studies in the Pagan and Christian Roots of Mariology, p. 213-214

[mythicamagic]

Macaria - Chapter One

Sesskag fic

Post-apocalypse AU. Human women were all but wiped out when the demons took over. What few remain have gone into hiding or concealed their true gender. When Kagome hears news of an orphaned little girl, she'll stop at nothing to protect her from the dangers of the world- including the city of demons and the infamous Killing Perfection. But is he friend or foe? 

I’ll only be posting the first chapter of this fic on tumblr, the rest can be found on my Ao3, Fanfiction.Net or Dokuga accounts via the same username.

Warning: This fic will contain dark themes (as I'm sure you've guessed since reading the summery.) So yes, there will be rape, allusions to sexual assault and general apocalypse grim stuff. If you are easily triggered by rape or allusions to rape, I suggest not reading this. A warning will be placed at the start of each chapter if they contain sensitive material.

One thing I will spoil right off the bat is to say that Rin won't be the victim of this. I don't really care if that kills any suspense, I just don't want you guys worrying about if I'll write something that grim. Women are essentially seen as cattle or tools for achieving status or pleasure in this AU, but I ain't no George RR Martin. Kagome will probably come across as a tad OOC in the beginning but circumstances have shaped her into someone rougher.

Chapter One

Dryness coated her tongue, and she swallowed, trying to push away thirst in vain. Water sloshed like a loud, constant reminder within her container, but Kagome ignored it. She needed to save it. Just in case.

She was unused to water being so scarce, but she'd trekked further out into unfamiliar territory than initially planned. The wildlife in her area had been thinned a little too much, numbers dwindling. Kagome hoped it was just a case of the animals moving to new locations and not over hunting, but she suspected the latter.

Hearing something like an engine, Kagome dropped down onto her stomach. She was uncaring when her chin scraped a rock, barely reacting as she kept low. The dirt road a little ways to her left had been a good way of keeping track of her location on the map, but it didn't come without dangers.

A cloud of dirt was kicked up, engine roaring as a truck lurched around a corner. Kagome could hear laughter as she stayed still, hidden by the thin bushes. As tires screeched on the ground, throwing dried earth into the air, the vehicle raced along the roads, climbing higher up the hill and disappearing around another corner. Kagome exhaled, holding still and pressing her ear to the earth. Not sensing the tell-tale slight tremors of more cars, she stood.

Dusting herself off, Kagome removed a twig from her short black hair, which had been pulled back into a ponytail. She adjusted her clothing over her flat chest, double and then triple checking her bindings hadn't come loose.

She then continued walking like nothing had occurred. But her heartbeat was racing.

Unscrewing the lid, Kagome took a swig from her container.

She'd had to make camp, allowing herself sleep just a few hours during the day before pressing on again.

After reaching the trading site a little later into the afternoon, Kagome glanced over her map, warily approaching. She liked summer. Despite the heat and the way sweat pricked the back of her neck, Kagome found it much preferable to the approaching Autumn, dreading the Winter on its heels. The days were already growing colder, never mind the longer nights.

Dusty old caravans and trailers that looked as though they'd been stationary for decades awaited her. Kagome rapped on the metal side of one, lingering in the shade.

"Eh? Who is it?" A slurring voice rang out. Kagome eased back as an old man stumbled out from the trailer, nose red and eyes half-lidded. She could smell the booze even before spying the bottle in his hand.

"I'm just passing through. Is it okay if I use your well?" She asked in her usual gruff voice, having gotten used to roughing the edges of her natural one. The man eyed her for just a little too long, but Kagome didn't react. "If you have any wears for trading, I'll take a look at those too," she threw in.

His mouth stretched wide beneath his white, bushy moustache. "That's more like it," he said amiably, waddling back inside to root through some things. She could hear the clanking of glass bottles among them.

Kagome busied herself with approaching the well, conscious of the way she walked even though it had practically become second nature to emulate a man. Still, around actual men, she was much more keenly aware of her acting. Reaching over the rim of the well, she felt her face flush- gritting her teeth when she realised her back had arched. Presenting her rear. Quickly straightening, Kagome hoped no one had noticed, distractedly lowering the bucket and holding onto the rope tightly as she eased it down. Even little things like that were dangerous.

The man somewhere behind her wandered out into the dusty courtyard, setting down a crate of goods on an old picnic table. He gestured to them with a flourish as she pulled the bucket back up, trying not to spill the water.

"Take a look and pick what ya like, stranger."

Kagome nodded, lifting the bucket out and carefully filling her containers. After securing the caps, she wandered over.

Picking out a dirty magazine, Kagome pretended to be interested, thumbing through it. Some pages stuck together with a sticky substance she did not want to identify. The old man had settled down into a deck chair, fanning his flushed skin. Kagome figured it had less to do with the weather and more to do with his warm blood as he took another drink of his beer.

She set the magazine down and brought out a set of matches.

"Rare find, eh? Sure beats all that time wasted setting up a fire."

Kagome rose a brow. She wasn't going to buy something to produce flames she could easily make with the right tools. Plus she had some of her own left. "How much?" She asked anyway.

"Hmm five tokens."

"T-tokens?" Kagome's blood froze. Her heart skittered in her chest, hammering wildly.

He let out a round of howling guttural laughter, holding his large belly. "Calm down, heh, you nearly looked as frightened as a girl there!"

Kagome laughed, swallowing her panic and elbowing him. "Ha! Don't you wish!"

The old man laughed louder, wiping his eye. He then tapped the crate, "keep lookin' ya joker. You got any veal to trade?"

She smiled and continued sorting through the junk, "no, just venison."

"Tch, woulda loved some veal."

Kagome was about to answer when the sound of an engine drew closer. She tensed, feeling like it were a prelude to exactly what she feared. A group.

From behind a dirt mound, an open top pick-up truck skidded into the old trading station, coming to a stop. A couple of men jumped out as others lazed in the back, nursing bottles or holding weapons.

"Oi Mushin!" One of the men called, grinning sharply. "You're not gonna believe this!"

"Mn?"

The man with a mohawk wandered over, his clothes tattered. "A girl's been found!" He breathed, eyes wide and shining. "Can you believe it? A real-life actual girl!"

Kagome's limbs had frozen, her hand resting on a bottle of old perfume. Shaking herself, she carried on sorting through the wears. Picking out some bullets perfect for a handgun, she casually glanced at the men. Slipping some into her pocket, she thumbed through a brochure to old New York.

"Slow down, feh…" Mushin took a swig of his beer, letting out a disgruntled noise. "A girl? Not a woman?"

Another man shook his head, adjusting his torn leather jacket. He picked up one of Mushin's beer bottles and tossed a bag of some sort of food at him as payment.

"Nah, the body of a woman was found near her, apparently. Took a tumble off a cliff. Shouldn't think that'll stop some of the lads from having a turn with her though."

"Sick…" the old man grumbled. "So, the girl…"

"Must be her daughter, but who cares! She might be a little thing now but we're gonna go get her! In a few years she can entertain us all!" The mohawk guy grinned, laughing.

"Heh, I wouldn't mind her entertainin' me as she is," called one man from the back of the truck. A few men burst out into laughs of agreement or jeers of disgust.

Kagome's hands tightened on the bottle, knuckles turning bone white. She fought not to tremble as her temples pounded. Her fingers itched for the knife on her person.

"You comin' or what old man?"

Mushin didn't move from his chair, observing the liquor in his bronze coloured bottle listlessly."…No. Ain't interested in terrorising a little girl, you should be ashamed of yourselves," he grumbled.

That caused her to look up. Lips thinning, Kagome reached into her pocket, sighing as she retrieved the bullets and put them back.

"Tch, suit yourself," one muttered. The men turned back to the truck with vague grumbles.

"Hey," Kagome called, steeling herself as she turned. "I'll go."

They paused, some men in the truck raising their brows. She knew she wasn't exactly…built for much, but she stood her ground. Her arms and legs had gained strength over the years, and she was confident in her stamina. Despite that, she remained quite petite and unassuming. Setting her jaw, she made it clear she wasn't taking 'no' for an answer.

A smile broke out on the mohawk man's face. "That's more like it!"

Mushin glanced up at her, a dusty worry creeping into his weathered face. As she padded toward them, he held up a hand slightly.

"Lad...don't get mixed up with these lot."

Kagome smiled just a little, resting her hand on the old man's shoulder in passing, giving a small pat before continuing on. Determination blazed inside her chest. She swung herself up onto the back of the truck, bracing against the side when it pulled away with a harsh lurch, kicking up dust. The old man stared after them until they were out of sight down the musty trail.

"Just so's you know for sure, you're gonna be expected to fight. The guys who have her right now won't wanna hand her over easy."

She looked up, finding the mohawk man's gaze trained on her.

"Not a problem," Kagome muttered, flashing her knife and adjusting the bow over her shoulder.

He nodded, lapsing into silence. The other men's bodies lurched or swayed depending on the terrain of the road- the truck making them move like packed sardines pressed into a can. Kagome hated it. She dipped her nose down and carefully inhaled her shirt under her heavy jacket. It smelled awful. Like sweat that had lingered too deep into the fabric.

Good. Kagome glanced around the men.

They didn't seem to keep any demon company but some could be ahead, holding the girl captive. She'd learned the hard way that they could sniff her gender out if she bathed too often. When her period started Kagome absolutely refused to risk leaving her underground base.

She noticed one man reading from a crumpled pamphlet of some sort. It had once most likely been smart and crisp, made from white card. Now it was dinged yellow and brown. She could vaguely make out the characters on the front cover.

Tokyo.

The name made a chill run down her spine, and Kagome glanced away.

"There they are!"

She looked up, joining the other men in readying her weapon. Yanking her bow over her head, she notched an arrow, squinting in the faint evening light at the road ahead. An old warehouse stood, bathed in the last splashes of purples and oranges from the sunset. A camp had been made, some cars and trucks parked outside. Men were running to grab weapons, some of them staggering. They'd been drinking. Celebrating.

Kagome could see no sign of the girl.

Something whizzed through the air, and a man to her left choked. He clutched at his bleeding neck, but Kagome didn't stop to attend to him. The truck skidded to a halt, the men opening fire on the stragglers in the camp. Kagome jumped over the side of the truck, keeping low as shouts and gunfire broke out. The bullets embedded themselves in the truck- its tires letting out harsh hisses as air escaped the punctures. Mental gave noises of distress as holes littered the paintwork.

She knew they'd run out of ammo before too long. These men weren't from Tokyo, they were impoverished wastelanders just like her. Rapid footfalls could be heard as men taking cover behind the truck chanced running toward the warehouse. Bait, she thought. As predicted, men from within the safety of the shelter opened fire. Kagome inched out from behind the safety of cover, aiming and letting her arrow fly when she pinpointed their locations. She killed one man in the upper right window. Then another down below- her arrow zipping through the slight gap in the shutter to pierce his eye.

Another man let out a cry, stumbling to the dust-laden floor. An arrowhead jutted out from the back of his head.

Kagome then relaxed a touch, only gave meagre amounts of cover, content to let the two sides destroy each other. She needed to save her arrows. The man with the torn leather jacket got impaled through the chest with a spear, crying out.

Wincing, Kagome exhaled, before ducking low and trying to avoid fire. She inched toward the side of the warehouse, keeping to the shadows and making her way around the back of the structure.

She hesitated once there, hearing voices from within. The rusted steel shutters were suddenly pulled up - an engine roaring to life.

Some of them were trying to escape. Most likely with the girl in tow.

Kagome readied her bow, heart thundering. When the car sped out of the warehouse, she fired, hitting the passenger in the neck.

"Fuck," she pulled out another arrow and notched it, jogging to catch up with the car as it skittered this way and that. Aiming at the rear tire, she let loose.

The car fumbled, lurching in the air in jumps as the tire flattened. Kagome raced forward, only to stop as something jumped from the passenger seat of the car.

The small thing rolled, letting out a cry as it was coated with dust and dirt, hitting a few sharp stones. When it finally skidded to a stop, Kagome approached, gazing down.

Brown eyes blinked up at her, widening. Kagome stilled. The roar of the engine died in her ears, and she distantly realised the car had stopped. A man cursed as he kicked the door open.

"Hey! Hand her over!" He yelled, lifting a gun.

Kagome snapped her bow up, aiming.

His eyes widened and his body shuddered, choking on his own blood when an arrow skewered itself in his neck. Breathing out with relief, Kagome turned her sights to the girl, reaching out.

"It's okay," her voice came out as gruff rasp.

"No!" The girl cried, stumbling back. "No, stay away!"

Kagome's brows drew together and she stepped closer, opening her mouth to try and soothe. To explain. But pain assaulted her senses.

She gasped, gritting her teeth as something wet trailed down her back. The pain was coming from the back of her left shoulder. Her skin strained around it. Kagome figured it were some sort of blade.

Reaching for her knife, Kagome's fingers slipped around the handle, sending it clattering to the floor. She turned, only to feel her head thrum as her face was knocked to the side. Stars clouded her vision. She couldn't react in time to the man before her.

Hissing, she felt her hair be grabbed- body tugged in roughly.

"Heh, you were pretty useful," the man with the mohawk grinned.

Kagome shuddered, curling her hand into a fist. But his eyes snapped wide before she could land a hit. He gasped, crying out with pain and sinking to one knee. Kagome pulled her hair free from his grip, startled.

The little girl…the little girl had lodged the knife into the back of the man's knee. Kagome stared, but quickly moved, reaching down to pull the knife free. Holding the man's chin, she slid the blade over his neck, stepping back when he coughed and blood spilled forth.

Kagome wasted no time in reaching down and scooping the girl up.

"Ah! N-no! Let me go! LET ME GO!" She cried.

"Shush!" Kagome barked, running to the forgotten car and ducking into the driver's seat. She awkwardly kicked the passenger's body out, resting the girl on her lap as she started the engine. "Please don't struggle, I kind of have a knife in me and I'd really- really appreciate your help right now."

"No, you're a bad man! You're going to hurt me!" The little one struggled.

Kagome gunned the accelerator, glancing in the rear view window and noticing the fighting continue. No doubt they'd soon notice the girl's absence and pursue. She grunted with pain as her body rocked back, the knife handle making contact with the leather seat and sending it deeper into her skin.

"I-I know you won't believe me but I'm a girl too," Kagome panted. The little girl paused in her struggles, wild brown eyes staring up at her. She whimpered, trembling.

Kagome chanced a smile, glancing at her briefly. "What's your name?"

"R-Rin…"

"I'm Kagome." She smiled tiredly, turning the wheel at a corner. "Do you know how to dress a wound, Rin?"

"Y-yes. My Mama showed me how."

Kagome figured she couldn't be more than eight years old. But it made sense to teach her young. Continuing down the road, she checked the gas. It would be enough to get them there.

"I'm going to drive us to one of my bases. It's underground, and you get in by lifting a hatch," she haltingly explained, panting as red spots assaulted her vision. She blinked them away.

"If I pass out, there's a map showing how to reach it in my right pocket," she patted her side. "Don't worry about me. Just leave me behind. But if we do reach it together, I need you to pull the knife out and dress the wound. It's in an awkward place so I don't think I can do it myself."

Talking felt good, calmed her down. Years ago, before the war, Kagome had been more of a chatterbox. She focused on the road, placing where they were from memory.

"W-why are you telling me this? Why are you…helping me?" Rin squeaked in a small voice.

Kagome breathed out, not answering for a while. "Us girls need to stick together, right?" She smiled wryly.

Rin looked as though she didn't quite believe her. She shifted over to sit in the passenger seat, holding her arms. She was dressed in a yellow and orange patchwork yukata. "I want Mama."

An old memory of a kind smile and home cooking drifted into Kagome's mind, before she shook it away. "I know."

She drove for a good 30 minutes more, feeling herself grow weaker, attention drifting. Shapes drew in and out of focus. Kagome squinted, before breaking- stopping just shy of hitting a sign. Turning the wheel, the car drew to a halt.

Carefully, Kagome managed to pull herself out of the car and take Rin's hand, stumbling down from the steep incline of the dirt road and hurrying into the cover of the trees. She'd released the handbrake, allowing the car to coast on without them. Hopefully if any men followed, they'd search around the site of the car when it inevitably crashed.

As promised, Kagome led Rin to the base opening, by now barely hanging on. She lifted the latch, teeth chattering. "Get in."

Rin hesitated, and Kagome felt the last of her patience draining away. "Rin, for the love of-"

The sound of engines further up, somewhere in the hills cut her off. Panicking, she grabbed Rin around the middle and jumped inside. Her feet landed on the rungs of a rope ladder, and she closed the hatch sharply.

Dropping down, Rin's startled squeak filled her ears.

"Shh!" Kagome hissed, covering her mouth.

Waiting in silence while bathed in complete darkness, she listened. The distant roar of the engines lingered, before slowly moving on. Kagome exhaled, shakily sitting down and drawing out her matches.

She lit the scarce amount of candles inside, knowing their location instinctively. The underground bunker was bathed in a warm glow. Rin glanced around the space with wide eyes. It had a bed, and shelves lined sparsely with books. Towards the back were some storage units.

Kagome stayed on her knees, struggling to breathe. To stay conscious. But it was a losing battle.

"H-hey!" She heard Rin call out when she collapsed onto her side. "Kagome? Oh no, Kagome please stay awake!"

The little girl might have said more, but Kagome couldn't stay focused enough on her voice to pick out the words. The world became soft colours.

Her head hit the floor a moment later. Everything lapsed into darkness.

"My Lord," came a bright, nasally voice, tinged with excitement. It came from a green toad demon as he hurriedly waddled into the room.

A cruel, handsome face stayed gazing out of the floor length windows. His chin rested on his clawed hand, body still and drenched in moonlight, as though carved from marble. From his position, he could almost see the entire city laid out before him. Yet the demon sat unmoving behind his desk, a slight sigh escaping him.

"What is it?"

Jaken stopped before the desk and bowed low, practically vibrating with happiness. "A girl!" He burst, panting. "Lord Sesshoumaru, I have heard tell of a girl being spotted in the Western Lands!"

"Girl…" Sesshoumaru tested the word, not sure he liked it. "Demon?"

"Regrettably human, sire."

"Hn, young?"

"R-regrettably…yes, sire."

He made a noise of disgust. "No doubt the human filth have descended upon her like wolves and torn her limb from limb."

"D-don't despair, mi Lord! If we make haste, we could secure her, I'm certain of it."

Long silver lashes slid shut. He could distantly recall the sound of children crying, mingling with houses burning. His claws twitched, and he sneered. "The others…have they already left?"

Jaken clutched his staff, raising his chin. "I don't think the other Lords know yet, I brought the news to you first!"

"Hn," lean muscles shifted as Sesshoumaru slowly stood, padding to the nearby window. "Send out a team of 10, let them search. Bring her back if she's alive. Burn her if dead."

The toad bowed sharply and turned, dangerously assuming he was dismissed.

"Jaken," a quiet voice halted him.

Wide bulbous eyes turned back, slight fear skittering over his skin. "Y-yes mi Lord?"

Sesshoumaru's reflection gazed at him, before sharp golden eyes shifted to the city once more. "They may only bring her back in the state they found her in. Not one may touch her."

"Y-yes of course!"

Sesshoumaru allowed him to leave, a quietness in his baring. Without the stupid ramblings of the kappa, the room lapsed back into silence. Exhaling, the Western Lord remained on the top floor of his skyscraper, wondering if it would be a kinder fate for the child to already be dead. He glanced down towards the building shaped like an open tulip flower, lingering in his eyesight nearby. Bright and glamorous lights decorated the outside. From his vantage point, he could see small shapes of men wandering into the building, demon and human alike. The rest of the city remained poorly lit, shrouded in some pervasive, grimy layer of filth.

Undoubtedly, it would.

[gianinnaczareena]

How 24-year old Ninai came to realize who she is, and what she’s meant for.

I feel that some of you may want to know who is behind this “blog”, and I figured that the best way everyone can get to know me is by reading this personal essay I submitted for my Feminist Theories and Movements class in UP Diliman under the College of Social Work and Community Development--Women and Development Program.

Here goes:

My journey to self-discovery is rooted to feminism. 

 Way back when the word wasn’t even making headlines. Back when I didn’t even know there was a word for what I was becoming.

It started out with two important questions: 1) Will people never stop dictating what I can or cannot do for myself? and 2) Will decisions be made for me when I can make it myself?

Growing up, I used to think that freedom is a reward given to you when you: listen, behave, cooperate, and follow—which is ironic given that, well, it should be free. I grew up in a very patriarchal environment (both household and society), although before we didn’t know what patriarchy was or that it even actually existed. What I grew up knowing was already considered normal and natural. Patriarchy was “the way, the truth, and the life.” Pun intended.

I cannot exactly pinpoint when and where patriarchy began in our household. I was young and naive, all I did was behave, play by the rules, and follow the values being passed onto me without a second thought and without asking questions. Because then, asking questions meant you’re being disrespectful. But if anything, I think it started when my father told my mother, right when they got married, that she “need not find work” and to “just raise the kids” because he will “provide for the family”. If I were a damsel in distress I would probably sigh and swoon when a man tells me that I need not worry about anything because he will provide for me, but I am not a damsel in distress.

Let it be known that I do not blame my mother for saying yes and my father for offering her a “way out”. She got married right after college. She was only 21. My father was 26. They were simply a traditional Filipino family (husband = breadwinner; wife = housewife).

Cesar, my father, had nothing growing up. He was a farmer’s boy. He believed in education and fought hell and high water to attain it. And with hard work and determination, he earned his doctoral degree. He wanted to be better—to be able to provide when his parents could not. He did not want us to go through what he went through. That is why I know he meant well when he dictated himself as the provider of the household and Genevieve, my mother, the ultimate carer.

But the dictation did not end there. I have three male siblings which makes me the sole daughter of the Sumalde-Chavez household. And being the only daughter of a patriarchal household has never been an easy thing. Rules come off as either protective or downright oppressive. And in this case, it’s mostly the latter. And when household rules are strengthened and solidified by society’s standard of what is right or wrong, what is acceptable or unacceptable—to challenge it means you’re at the losing end.

When I was younger, my parents—Cesar, especially—have dictated what I can or cannot do. (Again, I know they meant well. I don’t hold anything against them.) I remember my father did not approve of my all too-short hairstyle (borderline boy cut) that Mom had imposed on me when I was very young--but in all honesty, I didn’t mind. And I, being a firm believer of comfort before style, do not cut my hair as a symbol of my sexuality—but a symbol of preference in comfort. He would also rarely let me leave the house for fear of my safety, but he would let my Kuya wander off late at night until 3 in the morning (to be fair, this was when he was still “young” now he really just stays at home or at work). We were only two years apart.

Other than that, I would be scolded for every time I do not “sit like a lady”. And I don’t, because what does “sit like a lady” even mean? Why am I not allowed to sit with my legs apart, to take up space, when all the men in my family would open their legs just as much and just as wide? How are my legs different from theirs? Even with the clothes I wear, sometimes there were rules laid out for me: no shorts, no sleeveless (unless I wear a sarong or a jacket), no spaghetti straps, no this, no that. They didn’t have to say it, but  I knew it was because they were afraid that I might become too “inappropriate” or be disrespected for wearing less.

More than the physical, there are things that I am not allowed to do like talking back or having an opinion. I guess it’s usual for kids to talk back to their parents—both female and male—during an argument but how come girls are heavily punished compared to boys when they do? Why are boys even expected to talk back and girls are expected to shut up and be quiet? Even apologize?

So, growing up stricken with all these “rules” I did what any perfect daughter would do: behave. I didn’t stay out late. I didn’t drink. I didn’t do drugs. I didn’t party. I didn’t “hang out with the wrong people”. And when I did do any of those things, it was rare and guilt would often follow me. (Except for the drugs part. I never did that.) All these for fear of not just disappointing my family but as well as society who is expecting a lot from women like me. In fact, all I did was go to school in the morning, train at night (as student athlete and leader) then go straight home. I played the part up until college was over.

As I said at the beginning of this personal essay, I thought freedom was a reward given to you when you: listen, behave, cooperate, and follow the rules. I did all those and still, the dictation never really stopped, at least not with society. My traditional, conservative parents are gradually becoming progressive as I grew older: lax and open-minded, accepting and trusting. They were slowly realizing that I am becoming a woman of strength and direction (I realized that communication is all we needed). But, overall, the rules (now controlled and imposed by society) are still there: “you’re not allowed to go home late because you’re a girl”; “you're not allowed to drink because you can’t keep up with the boys”; “if you cut your hair short again people might think you’re a tomboy”; and “don’t wear shorts when you go out strangers might disrespect you”.

I realized then, when I finally had enough of these limitations, no matter how insignificant or unimportant they may seem, that the rules that were being imposed on me were made so that the people around me will accept and respect me as a human being. 

And if I “misbehave” I became alienated. 

Disowned. These rules are making me adjust to people and situations, I am basically being unconsciously asked to behave a certain way for people and not the other way around: “don’t cut your hair people will think you're a tomboy”, “don’t wear clothes that are too short or revealing someone might rape you”, “don’t talk too much people will think you’re opinionated” and “if you cry people will think you’re weak”. All of these have led me to a conclusion: freedom is only an illusion when you’re oppressed.

My personal conquest to attaining my so-called freedom made me realize that my problem wasn’t just mine alone. 

It was a problem that majority of the women share together. Young and old. That was when I was slowly becoming aware of myself and my surroundings. I now see, with my own eyes and my own understanding, how unjust and unfair women are being treated at home, at school, at work, and most especially, at the streets. From the length of our hair, the size of our skirts, and the height of our heels, rules are being dictated. Rules that came mostly from the white and the male. It created a culture: a culture where women are less than men. Insignificant and irrational. Subordinate and weak. A second sex.

I understood what I wanted to do. I wanted to fight back. My aim wasn’t to make women better than men but be equal with them. I want the women, the marginalized, and the oppressed, to have the same amount of rights—without the double standards. 

I want women to be recognized equally, to be credited where credit is due, to be seen, and heard. I want our voice to be just as loud as men—important and valid, respected and powerful. I want the decisions made for women are made by women. I want them free from harmful limitations. 

It is a bold and ambitious dream—but a goal nonetheless.

Hence, why I decided to take a Women and Development course/subject. If I wanted to make a change, no matter how small, I had to be educated first. This, I am sure of. And I come in this course admitting that there are things I still do not know about feminism or things I am still unsure of, and I believe that WD 210: Feminist Theories and Movements is the right choice for what I wanted to do.

I want to learn what feminism was before it was even “invented”. I want to learn how feminism became from demanding equal rights to fighting for human rights. I want to know the extent of the influence of the #MeToo movement to our country and how it can raise social awareness most especially to victims of sexual assault in male-dominated industries. I want to challenge the local media representation of women: that women are more than just their bodies—the breast, the curves, the legs, and the nudity—that women’s bodies should not be an instrument and medium of salacious content. I want to challenge the ad industry for misrepresenting period blood because women don’t bleed blue. We bleed red. I want women to walk the streets in daylight and at night time without having to fear for their safety. I want more women leaders in government that can accurately provide solutions for women’s needs. I want to help erase the negative connotation the word “feminism” has: that feminism does not equal to man-hating. That it is not anti-men.  

And above all else, I want to understand the different meanings of feminism and how it differs based on sex, class, race, nationality, and demography. That women of color don’t exactly share the same meaning of feminism to white women. These are the things I want to learn if I want to make a change.

Because to me, feminism means that the women, the marginalized, and the oppressed are allowed to do whatever they want for themselves without having to worry how people would react. I want them to be provided the same amount of privilege and credibility that the white and the male have.

Women have been suffering for centuries and we didn’t even know it.

We stood, we watched, we followed because we thought it was right and normal. For too long, we have endured the pain of being silenced, controlled, dictated, and overpowered. Everyday, more and more women are opening their eyes to the Truth, and the possibility of a future where they can share the same spotlight with men. The fight for our voice to be heard is far from over but with an idea, with an initiative, and with the willingness to learn, to grow, to share and educate we can have a better a better country—a better world—where sex of a human being will not dictate a man or woman’s worth.

Feminism started out as a thought; an idea. Today, we will end it as a result.

[eternityunicorn]

Love Me Apocalyptic - Part One +18

Author: eternityunicorn 

Genre: Romance/Drama 

Pairing: Elijah Mikealson x OC

Warnings: Smut (*Smut chapters marked +18)

Summary: AU of an AU: Elijah Mikaelson and Eternity had been lovers centuries ago. Betrayed, he had thought that he would never see her again. However, in present time, she has returned with a purpose, intertwining their paths once more. Elijah hates Eternity for the past, but finds his addiction to her is still as profound as it had been before and he cannot fight it, leaving him in a complicated relationship with his former lady - in an apocalyptic love.

NOTE: OC and original elements are from my up and coming novel series!

AUTHOR’S COMMENTARY: This is a rewrite of ‘Love is Madness’. This first chapter is completely one hundred percent new, but the next couple will be mixed - new and old - content. For those who’ve read the previous incarnation should still read those chapters as the tone as changed a bit. For those who are new and have not, simply welcome! For all readers, please enjoy! Thanks for reading!

———————————————————————————————————

She haunted him - a woman from a distant era of his past. 

She was everywhere he looked, especially in the past few days, with her brilliant shining grace drawing his attention to the illusion of her apparition. She wasn’t there. Not really. She couldn’t be - an impossibility.

Then one night, the flesh and blood version of her had come to him, while it rained harshly outside. 

Elijah Mikealson had been taking a moment alone at Rousseau’s, after some family drama that had taken it’s emotional toll on him - the love triangle between Niklaus, Hayley, and himself. He had Hayley for himself, but had lost her to his brother Niklaus. Apparently, her feelings of cooperative co-parenting where Hope was concerned had developed into more - into a deep love neither of them could refuse or deny. Therefore he was drinking away his sorrows of lost love, when the shimmering flash of white had caught his eye.

He had been surprised to see her there, looking as lovely as always. She was dressed in a short mini sweater dress that clung to her curves perfectly. It was casual, but not overly so. Her ankle length white hair was partially tied back, while the remainder hung loosely around her, showing off the creamy expansion of her neck and displaying her silvery hoop earrings. She wore heels to accommodate her short height, making her shapely legs seem longer. 

Her sapphire eyes were as piercing as Elijah remembered, in their ability to see through another, see everything there was to know about them. Her plush rose pink lips smirked at him, as if daring him to make a move toward her as she stood near the entryway. 

Every man and woman in the bar stopped to stare at her in wonder and in lust. Even Elijah found himself affected, but that wasn’t a surprise to him. He knew well the kind of effect she had on others, but none was he more aware of than the one she had upon him. He wanted her like no other and she had only just arrived - both at the bar and back into his life.

And she was back in his life. Why else would she be there than to be a part of his life in some fashion? If not for that reason, then she wouldn’t have been there at all.

Wonderful, he thought with bitter amusement as he downed the bourbon Camille had given him. 

Then she made a move toward him, when she saw that he wasn’t about to come near her; though it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. He did. His body was drawn to hers automatically. In fact, it had taken everything not to reach for her as she neared him at the bar, where he sat perched upon a chair.

“Hello Elijah,” she greeted him boldly with a mysterious and not entirely pleasant smile. 

“Eternity,” he replied curtly. “What do you want?”

Eternity’s grin only widened, “Is that how you choose greet me, after not seeing me for a century and a half? Surely, you are not still cross with me, because of the past. I had thought you would have moved on after all this time.”

Another drink was put in front of him by one of Camille’s fellow bartenders to whom he nodded thanks to, before saying to the stunning woman beside him, “I have not forgiven you as of yet nor do I know if I ever will. You did betray me and mine when you nearly killed my brothers, of whom you had claimed to care for.”

“Pity that you remain bitter,” she shrugged. “Although, in all honesty, it is not you that I seek anyhow. I actually only came to ask you if you knew where I might find your wayward siblings. Well, in truth, only one. Niklaus? I have urgent business I must attend to concerning the hybrid. So if you’d be so kind as to point me in the right direction, I’ll excuse myself and let you carry on drowning your sorrows.”

The cryptic way Eternity spoke set Elijah on protective edge toward his brother. He couldn’t trust her, not after what she had done in the past to jeopardize his family’s continued existence. Anyone who dared to threaten his loved ones was an enemy and would remain so until they proved otherwise or were executed. The latter was impossible. Therefore, in Eternity’s case, it was to be the former. 

In calm, cool rage, he turned on her deftly, despite the fact that the drink was making him hazy. 

He grabbed hold of her and sped away to the rooftop of a near by building, pushed her violently into the protruding wall of the roof exit and holding her there with his hand pressed against her collarbone. She didn’t make a sound as he did this nor did she flinch. She only stared with the vaguest hint of amusement in her sapphire gaze as she waited for him to speak. 

The cold heavy rain fell down upon them in big drops as they stared at each other. It soaked Elijah through his suit and dripped from his head, trailing down the exposed skin of his face and neck. 

The water from the sky soaked through Eternity’s dress, making it cling to her more provocatively and turning the fabric transparent. The sight of the water trailing almost teasingly down her neck and into her cleavage did nothing to quell his raging lust - his automatic reaction to this ethereal work of art he held in his grasp.

“I do not know what you want with Niklaus, but I do know you won’t be going near him,” Elijah growled venomously, as he resisted the urge to fist her hair, pull her nearer to him, and kiss her hungrily. “I’ll descend upon you before you ever dare to get close. Nobody hurts my family and gets away with it. Nobody.” 

Eternity was unimpressed by his threat. In fact, she outright laughed, “Oh, I should laugh myself sick! What are you really going to do, Elijah? What can you? I am beyond you in every way. You are no match. Therefore, your threats and intimidations are meaningless. Though, if I could be permitted to explain, I would tell you -.”

Angered further and weak willed, Elijah silenced her with a needy kiss, before he growled in a combination of anger and sexual frustration. “You mouthy little vixen,” he muttered, his face near hers and his hand moved to wrap securely around her throat to hold her still. 

She gazed at him, surprised and lustful. 

The temptation was too great, he realized, and he wasn’t in the right mind to care about his lack of self control. He wanted her. So, he would have her. 

Elijah’s mouth descended upon Eternity’s with all the heated passion he had in him, and she accepted his kiss without resistance. Clinging to him, her hands fisted into the soaked fabric of his suit jacket sleeves as they kissed passionately in the monsoon around them. His tongue dove into her mouth to taste her, something he hadn’t been able to do in over a century. 

The memories of that joyous time in his life that he had thought had been buried came flooding back to him. He loved it. He hated it. He wanted to experience that happiness again. He wanted to bury it six feet under. Joy and nostalgia mixed when to war with his bitterness and anger, as he lifted Eternity up so that her legs were wrapped securely around his waist. His hand dipped between her legs to find her bare heat, dripping with her own desire for him.

Elijah groaned into her mouth at the feeling of his fingers sliding inside, her slick walls clinging to them as he began to thrust his two digits in and out of her depths. He remembered her body well and knew exactly how to touch Eternity in order to drive her mad with want. He kept his pace steady, rubbing his thumb over her clit as his fingers moved. 

It wasn’t long before she was writhing, her hips moving in time with his fingers, until she was nearly ready to fall over the edge, which he denied her by pulling his hand away. He smirked evilly at her groan of disappointment, then kissing her lips sweetly, as he quickly reached down to undo his pants one handedly - an easy task for one as experienced as he was.

Once he released himself, Elijah did not hesitate in slamming into her body without mercy. That first thrust erased Eternity’s disappointment immediately, taking her by pleasant surprise. She clung to him even tighter as he began to move swiftly, setting a punishing pace as his mouth latched onto the column of her throat, suckling and bitting the flesh there. He reveled in the sensation of being joined with her. It was exquisite, it was divine. It fulled his warring emotions, driving him on.

“Elijah,” Eternity was soon panting in his ear as one of her hands cupped the back of his head, while the other clutched his shoulder. “More! Please, more!”

Not one to disappoint, the Original did as the lady wished. His thrusts turned brutal as their passion climbed to new heights, until she was practically screaming into the rainy night air. The blinding need that had come over him was so great that Elijah knew he wouldn’t last long. Not that it mattered. This was all lust, passion, and blind fury; a quick romp to quell the maddening want he still possessed for the woman he was riding unforgivingly.  

Then the end came. Eternity’s walls clamped down on him as her whole body seized, triggering his own release. Instinctively, his vampire visage came forth and his fangs sank into the pale woman’s neck as he spilled into her, causing her to orgasm a second time. Her walls, which had slackened around him the quakes ceased from her first orgasm, gripped his still hard cock all over again as she once more shouted into the night. All the while, Eternity let him feed from him as she pleased, both knowing he couldn’t kill her.

Her sweet, almost candy flavored blood filled his mouth and he savored it. He drank heartily, addicted to the taste and the increase in power and strength the magical crimson liquid affirmed him. 

God, how he had missed it. Missed her....

With that last thought, Elijah was brought back to his senses and immediately he pulled away from Eternity completely, as if he had been burned. She had to act fast and catch herself before she fell to the ground, slumping awkwardly against the wall as she stared at him in confused wonder. He gazed back at her disturbed and appalled by how easily he had lost control over himself, how badly he wanted to give to old feelings.

Without a word, he straightened himself until there wasn’t any indication that he had just had his way with the ethereal beauty before him. It was as if he was erasing their encounter, pretending it hadn’t happened at all. Then with one final glance at Eternity, he sped away to somewhere safely away from her.

Little did Elijah understand then that there would never be a safe place for him to escape to. As he would soon find out, Eternity had returned for a purpose. So it would seemed that she wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon.

She was here to stay.

To Be Continued....

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[tamas-22-blog]

Halloween (David Gordon Green, 2018)

40 years after Michael Myers unleashed his brutal killing spree, the sole survivor of his purge – Laurie Strode – prepares for a final battle with her tormentor.

After several unsuccessful attempts to recapture the original success of the first film in the franchise, Jason Blum of Blumhouse Productions (known for major hits such as Get Out, Split, and Happy Death Day) came to the rescue and assembled the team of director David Gordon Green and Danny McBride. Many in the industry were taken aback by this pairing as the duo had been recently known for their comedies (such as Pineapple Express) and had no previous experience in making horror films (especially not in the resurrection of a classic).

None of the nine previous sequels had come close to the original’s high standard and thus the filmmakers explored many avenues before settling on the perfect combination, which was to ignore all the sequels to the original and make a direct sequel to the first. Thanks in large part to their excellent screenplay, Jamie Lee Curtis (who played the protagonist Laurie Strode in the original) agreed to reprise her role for the final time (that’s what Cher announces every time she embarks on a Farewell Tour so we’ll see if that is the case). Speaking of why she made this decision she revealed: “We make these movies, but we never talk about what happens to anybody. We inflict this sort of intense experience on unsuspecting (often young people) but then we never revisit it, and never know really what happened.”

This film is much more than a slasher film, it has an emotional brain like no other I have seen since the Scream franchise. The main narrative arc of the film centers on trauma and PTSD, and how they collectively affected Laurie Strode in the 40 years after that horrific night in 1978. The film explores with great intelligence and emotional integrity how the horrors of her youth affected her relationships with her adult daughter Karen (a well-cast Judy Greer) and granddaughter Allyson (newcomer Andi Matichak). Throughout the film, we receive glimmers of the trauma Laurie herself inflicted on her daughter Karen, by training her from a young age to shoot guns and defend herself, which in turn resulted in child protective services to remove Karen from Laurie’s care.

It is indicated by Karen that this childhood experience has informed her adult life and has made her anxious, to the point where she actively seeks to ignore and avoid the Halloween festivities. A visual representation of this can be seen in the latter parts of the film where Karen sports a Christmas cardigan, visibly deleting Halloween from her psyche and replacing it with the joyful and happy Christmas holidays. Karen’s daughter, on the other hand, is sympathetic and wants to have a loving relationship with Laurie, whereas Karen is wary of her. This generational trauma depicted in the film is unusual for a slasher film, which seeks thrills and jump scares at the same time. It is more unusual yet that a film manages to authentically capture these emotions and complex subject matters successfully, unlike many of its predecessors within the genre. As Curtis, herself elaborated: “I love that this was a movie that went back 40 years later to explore and expose the realities of trauma on a human being, who is not given any mental health services, help, support etc.”

This film was the biggest box office opening weekend revenue intake with a woman lead in a horror film and second biggest opening with a woman over the age of 55. This proves not only the box office power of nostalgia but the economic viability of films with a woman lead and a cast mainly comprised of women, yet again! The film was low budget (made for $10-15 million) with a relatively small cast, ending up making $255.5 million at the worldwide box office. It is a positive development which, in an ideal world, should mean (and result in) more nuanced films in the horror genre, with a woman in the lead role (without the clichés of the “final girl” trope.

However, the film is lacking when it comes to representation and inclusion. The minor and forgettable character of Sheriff Barker (Omar Dorsey) is scarcely on screen and disappears suddenly without any further mention or appearance, thus making the potential of the character negligible. I must not omit to mention that further whoosh of a scene where a black couple dressed as a doctor and nurse flash across the screen, being gifted the revolutionary one-liner about a car key thought to have been lost, but quickly turns out that it was there with the “doctor” all along. Then as the sinister Michael Myers appears, they are speedily rushed off the screen into the abyss.

It’s disheartening to experience such a great film stumble and fall into the same trope, and present what Robin Wood called “obligatory black content”, with the characters of colour serving as scenery without a purposeful role in the film alongside their white counterparts. Historically, horror/slasher films have not been kind (to say the least) towards people of colour, as they have almost never survived to the end of the film or played a meaningful part in it. Considering this, maybe Sheriff Barker and the nurse/ doctor pair may have been lucky this time around not to be murdered off-screen soon after their introduction. However, it’s comforting to know that directors such as Jordan Peele (Get Out) are rectifying these oversights.

On the other hand, the film is perfectly placed to coincide with the #MeToo era (which was launched as a movement in October 2017) with filming commencing in January 2018 (the same month Time’s Up was founded as a legal defense fund for victims who could not afford their own legal counsel or representation). Interestingly, the film’s screenplay was completed well before these movements were launched and resulted in the reckoning which overthrew predatory producers such as Harvey Weinstein and brought forth the reappraisal of past sexual abuse cases such as those involving Roman Polanski and Woody Allen.

I found this film to be ultimately about the strength and resilience of women, who have found the courage and conviction to stand up for themselves, defend and protect one another, and in the end defeat the monster terrorizing them. The Strode women take on their abuser, just as women across the world have declared that Time’s Up for those who have systematically abused or harassed them.