#many will call this cringe to which i say fair

[pikespendragon67]

And Now, an Ode to Priam Fire Emblem: The Decade or So Long Blorbo

As I type this, the Nintendo 3DS and WiiU eShop have legally shut down their Internet servers. Pokemon can still be transferred via the Poke Transporter & Pokemon Bank, and content that was downloaded before can still be redownloaded, but now it is legally impossible to not only buy games, but to also download their free content that was distributed online. For some games, this might not have been utilized or was just a small bonus that didn’t mean much. For Fire Emblem Awakening, it meant access to new maps & somewhat new characters. 

4 of the free online characters were within Awakening’s main story & acted as “what if” scenarios. What if Emmeryn survived her character defining fall that ended a decade-or-so-long war? What if Yen’fay was the Chon’sin royal sibling that survived instead of Say’ri? What would Gangrel do if he lived after Chrom defeated him? What would Walhart do? What would Aversa do if it turned out that she was brainwashed by a cult, realized this, and decided to fight against this? Some were better executed than others, in my opinion, but some of these characters also had exclusive skills, such as Aversa wielding dark magic outside of a Dark Mage/Sorcerer class or Walhart being immune to armor & beast killing weapons, or were just more manpower for your army.

There was one final Spotpass map, though, that acted as a nice free challenge mode (if you didn’t plan on buying the DLC for Apotheosis, of course) : 50 whole units against 26 of your own. At the epicenter of it is Priam, the character I’d like to honor with this memoir. 

Priam is a character not found in the main story of Awakening, and is a dweller of the Isle of Giants in the Outrealms (aka bonus content land oooooh). He’s the leader of a very large army (again, 50 units) consisting of people from every nation within the continents of Ylisse & Valm. He’s supposedly related to a radiant hero of legend, though it’s never officially confirmed. He likes to train, eat meat, and fight strong opponents to better himself regardless of their origins. Overall a relatively simple character to understand. 

For many players, they tend to forget he exists or do their best to pretend he doesn’t exist in the first place. Either they didn’t play his map, his character traits didn’t stick with others as strongly as others, or the big meat and potatoes hot button issue: his relation to Ike. Ike is the protagonist of the Tellius saga, or the games consisting of both Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn. He does not have a canonical ending where he marries, and within the games, he doesn’t show romantic interest in any female characters. He does, however, have paired endings with characters such as Ranulf (who goes on a journey) and Soren (who accompanied Ike on his own journey, never to be seen or heard from again). And with sources stating Priam is a direct descendant of Ike, rather than an off-shoot through Mist (Ike’s younger sister) and Boyd, many got upset. “How could Ike have a kid? He’s not interested in women. He likes Soren.” is something I see regularly while scouring through Priam’s tag on Tumblr or through comments on Youtube. And I’m not here to argue against that. I do, however, think I have an idea why Priam was chosen to be Ike’s descendant of all the previous lords: Super Smash Bros. Brawl.

Brawl, at the time, was the latest Smash Bros. game when Awakening was in development. Smash Bros. is usually how Nintendo fans branch out from just playing Mario, Zelda, Pokemon, or Kirby and get introduced to series they might not have even heard of, such as Fire Emblem. In fact, it was due to Marth & Roy’s appearance in the previous Smash Bros. game, Melee, that the West got their first taste of Fire Emblem games. However, in Brawl, Roy was removed from the roster and was replaced with Ike. This makes sense, as Path of Radiance was the latest console Fire Emblem game when Brawl was released. (I also wonder if it has to do with the west never receiving Roy’s game, but that’s just speculating on my end). Gotta promote your games somehow. Though from what I understand, the Tellius games did not sell as well as Intelligent Systems had hoped. Additionally, with the following games being remakes of Marth’s original adventures now on the DS, those also did not sell well. Heck, the west never officially got the remake for Mystery of the Emblem. 

This could just be fan speculation ruminating throughout the decades, but it seems to be common belief that due to poor sales, Fire Emblem was almost a goner franchise that probably would’ve remained dormant for decades or even had no games developed for it. As such, Intelligent Systems wanted to broaden the market by appealing to newcomers. Some that may have heard about Fire Emblem through Smash Bros., but never gave it a shot due to the permadeath system that the games were infamous for, or just no real interest beforehand. Awakening exploded in popularity, garnering new fans like crazy. And with Chrom, Lissa, Emmeryn, Lucina, and Owain being descendants of the recognizable Marth (especially as Lucian disguising herself as Marth and even being briefly confused for Marth by Tiki), it would make sense to have a supposed descendant of the recognizable Ike as well. …Although one could speculate that Walhart is a descendant of Alm & Celica, which makes sense given how Rudolf looks… And for more reference’s sake, they threw in a bunch of past Fire Emblem throwbacks in weapons & lore that made writing a worldbuilding-centric fic a fucking nightmare.

So, with all of that, what are my thoughts on Priam being related to Ike? 

…Eh? 

My whole explanation beforehand was me retelling how I got into Awakening in the first place sprinkled in with hearsay I’ve read online, but as I grow older & more bitter at the world, Priam could be related to a shoe for all I care. (Although if Roy DID stick in Brawl, it would be cool to see how his descendant would be, especially if we’re going the route of Eliwood/Ninian having Roy, who then marries Lillina). What I like about Priam is traits somewhat shown in Ike, sure, but it’s also just the missing potential that keeps me coming back to him.

SO, time to get into how I started to like him. I remember when I first played Awakening, I asked a friend if I should pick between Stahl or Lon’qu to marry (as I was aware of the auto-marriage to Chrom mechanic and wanted to avoid that). The friend said Stahl was a better pick, as he was a kind lad that loved to eat & had messy hair like yours truly. Then, when the Spotpass maps were released, I immediately made a new save file so that I could marry Priam. Why? …Because he had a bandana and I liked his English voice acting (for the few grunts & battle quotes that were present). The Awakening Hero armor design is eh, but I liked how his was customized to be, well, radiant. The 3D model was shinier than those of Flavia’s or other playable reclassed Heroes, and I really just liked how he paired a tattered cape with his armor. 

I also remember level grinding for an entire summer just so I could finally take on his map efficiently. Granted, I played Normal/Casual, but when I replayed the map a 3rd time for another save file, my units were barely able to beat him. It was worth it, in my opinion. 

What really made me start up that second save file were his supports with Female Robin. Priam is an unfortunate case of “Avatar-sexual”, meaning he only has supports with Robin & Morgan if he’s his dad (although in the Hot Springs DLC, he does have a nice chat with Yen’fay & tries his damnest to fight Walhart). We only learn small things about him, such as his love for training & how he utilizes breathing techniques that would fit right into Jojo or Demon Slayer. He also gets flustered when someone does something nice for him unexpectedly, such as Female Robin doing his laundry as thanks for training with her. He doesn’t really care about expenses, as he bought a really fucking expensive ring when he proposed to Female Robin and says “I don’t give a damn what you do” when you sell items in his inventory. He’s devoted to the point of letting the world burn before seeing Female Robin get hurt (thankfully not to a yandere-like level). …And you learn he fought a bear when he was 12 if you support with Male Robin. He’s what got me to liking characters that had muscle (yes even though Basilio and Vaike were right there).

Combat wise, he was a good non-armor defensive unit (especially with wielding Ragnell to give him +5 defense), but what I find neat is that he learns weapon breaker skills even in classes he can’t become, like Gryphon Rider having Lancebreaker. He has both Sol and Luna, but not Aether like. This might be so Aether stays exclusive to Chrom, Lucina, and a potential daughter/granddaughter, but I speculated this could be Priam either holding himself back from using Aether’s potential or him still trying to figure it out.

Along with this, if you were a budding mythology/history nerd like I was, you realize he was named after not one, but two! TWO! Important figures in the Trojan War: King Priam and his son, Paris (In Japanese, Priam is named Paris, so yes, go ahead and make the French jokes. His English voice actor already plays the Frenchiest Fry Virion himself). In fact, this was one of the many things that sparked my interest in mythology/history. 

And finally, this was around the time I was starting to get interested in voice acting trivia. This meant I wanted to act as a human IMDB page and go “whoa, did you know such and such shared a voice with so and so?! Isn’t that neat?!” At the time, I didn’t know Jamieson Price also voiced Virion, but I DID know he voiced Iskandar from Fate/Zero and Chad from Bleach. Those were 2 of my favorite characters so I was sold. And then for Japanese, Daisuke Ono voices him. Jotaro Kujo from Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure and Shizuo Heiwajima from Durarara!! Of all things! WOW! 

All of this is really fucking cool shit, and it’s such a damn waste that Intelligent Systems doesn’t do anything else with him! 

To fill in my disappointment, I’ve definitely created a version of Priam in my head that’s drastically different from canon. I’ve incorporated elements from what I’ve continued to read in his supports, inspiration coming from moments & traits from other series that I’ve watched/played that I thought would be cool, and overall just positive things to keep me going when I was going through a rough spot. Canonically, he’s probably like what people expect Goku from Dragon Ball Z to be. In my mind, he’s like a battle-hardened tactician brawler that gets very excited about swords (to the point where he takes up blacksmithing to craft his own), loves to speak about life in a philosophical lens, and experiences a quiet yet extremely unsettling quiet anger when someone he cares about gets hurt. I also headcanon he uses his headband to cover scars from his bout with fighting a bear when he was 12. OH! And he gets to have twin girls: Cassandra and Helena. 

…So yeah, completely different from canon. But with only 3 Cipher cards and 1 appearance in Heroes as I type this to go by, I feel like it’s okay to speculate about what could have been. He could have been in Awakening’s main story as an opponent to Walhart during the second arc, or he could have been a recurring superboss in future Fire Emblem games that somehow always ends up in different dimensions. He could have been a hint for an upcoming Fire Emblem game that explored Tellius 1,000 years in the future much like how Awakening explored Archanaea & Valentia 1,000 years after Marth, Alm, and Celica ruled. (And apparently 2,000 years after Seliph ruled Jugdral? Again, consistent worldbuilding in this series is a nightmare if you try to connect all the games). Heck, I thought that was going to be what Fates was when I saw the cutscene of King Sumeragi shielding baby Corrin from arrows. 

Part of the reason why I’m so attached to Priam is spite from this lack of potential, and the fans mostly ignoring him for their own reasons. Like! We could have had so much more with this guy! And that kept me motivated during dark times in my life. I won’t go into specifics, as it’s quite personal & possibly triggering, but I’ll just say I felt very upset, very angry, and very alone at a certain point in my life. But I kept myself going for the unrealistic but still plausible goal of getting to see Priam get his own game. It might sound dumb, but it kept me wanting to move forward in life. And it’s because of that that I’m here today, and I’ve met other Priam fans online that have their own ways of showing that they like him. They have different reasons than me, and that’s awesome! Priam fans, in spite of their small numbers, exist! When I first joined Tumblr, I unofficially joined a “Radiant Waifu Society” where 3 other people were also Priam fans. I don’t talk to them as much as I did back then, but I do see one of the members post art from time to time & another one makes Fire Emblem Heroes content on Youtube now! I’ve also met one of my best online friends through a shared interest in Priam. She introduced me to many new friends I’ve made over the years, and I still talk with a few of them on a daily basis in friend group servers on Discord. I love sharing cursed voice acting trivia with her and the many other friends whenever I get the chance to, especially seeing their initial reactions when I tell them Priam is also voiced by Jelly Jiggler of Bobobo fame. 

All in all, I’d say Priam, in spite of his controversies in fandom spaces, was a great positive in my life that I can’t help but be thankful for. Intelligent Systems probably didn’t expect someone to care for this one-off character so much, but anything’s possible these days. 

Thank you for being such a positive force in my life, Priam Fire Emblem. With your map no longer being legal to download, here’s hoping you get your own game someday.

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[artytaeh]

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

can i disagree with some of this fandom's perception of tom riddle? surely he won't be a sweetheart like lorenzo, but...

┊ i also don't think that he'd be so intentionally rude, so cold towards his significant other. i honestly think that if tom ever becomes infatuated with someone, he would take pride into getting this someone to belong to him. willingly! 🌷

౨ৎ i guess i'll never know the reason why you ♡ ͡

love me like you do; that's the wonder of you . . .

... tom riddle is a smart man, you see. love, romantic feelings, to act like a couple and all of those things— these might be the most confused that tom riddle will ever be, because otherwise, he's an extremely competent, capable young man.

tom riddle does get confused, a little lost on what to do; he'd torture himself by discreetly watching couples at hogwarts interacting, maybe make some research (= read novels. romantic novels. it was a discovery of a new medieval torture for tom, seriously, to waste his precious time reading some sappy crap like that.) to better understand how to handle you.

how to deal with you.

how to cherish you, so that you don't ever entertain the idea of leaving him. you see, tom is a practical man— he'd rather not commit mistakes, because to fail, means to spend extra time fixing his error and doing the same thing twice, so that this time, it's done correctly.

applying this ideology to you, it means: that 1) tom riddle prefers to always keep your heart happy, so that you don't have doubts about him; so that 2) he won't have to take twice the effort to conquer the city of your heart again.

some think that tom wouldn't like petnames. to be fair, tom would frown at many of those, at first— thinking that they were cringe, disgusting or a psychological way to acquire diabetes. however, when tom gets used to this stir on his heart, those loud heart beatings that cloud his rational thoughts...

... it's excused to say that tom's preferred petname to call you by, is 'my love'.

tom reasons that's because it isn't a lie at all. well, you're certainly his— and because of you, because of your existence, of this enchanting aura of yours; that's how tom riddle discovered love. there are few things that tom is attached to. even fewer that he shows to care about, to have affectionate feelings for; one of them is the basilisk. others are his favorite books, all of them first editions that were troublesome, but endlessly worth it, to get. nevertheless, at the peak of the pyramid, there's you.

you. oh, how your name sounds so angelic, so right, so perfect on his lips. sometimes, tom doesn't call you by any petnames, so that he can mouth each syllable of your name, tasting the acquaintance of the name of his darling on his lips.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

he might call you by other petnames, depending on the occasions:

darling; which, in his opinion, is fairly one of the best petnames to be shared between a couple. because you, reader, are endearing to his eyes— a darling, really, whose presence immediately softens (ever so slightly, because tom riddle still is tom riddle himself, and that mask of stoicism of his won't be broken without putting up a fight.) those previously icy, cold eyes of his.

dearest; if tom is trying to reason with you. unlike what many think, tom would take a deep breath, put on that handsome smile of his, and use a gentle tone to convince some words inside that pretty little head of yours. 'dearest', he calls for you— so gentle, so full of affection; as if reminding you that you are the object of all of his affections and desires. you, his dearest, the one he adores the most. the reminder of such a fact easily melts you in less than a few seconds, which tom sees as too perfect of an opportunity to lose to convince you much faster.

doll; if you look rather ravishing to his eyes, whenever you dress up even prettier than other school days, and wear such pretty clothes and many accessories to further optimize your beauty. beautiful, perfect, flawless; like a doll. a carefully made doll. a doll, that sits there quiet and all pretty, obedient, doing as she's told.

( i must warn you, though, that tom won't entertain silly nicknames from you. tom riddle will ignore you, march forward without sparing a glance at you, not even acknowledging your presence should you insist on the matter. tom won't answer you, should you refer to him by such hideous petnames. you could be about to fall from a mountain, and yet tom won't help you until you address him properly. baby? he's not a child, for salazar's sake! pookie bear? now that might make tom riddle himself throw you off from the mountain's edge— call him such a monstrosity like that, and tom will lose every drop of faith on you. you're a lost cause. )

if he had to choose; yes, tom would prefer if you were obedient. contrary to popular belief, tom riddle is quite fascinated with sweet personas. to have a sweet significant other, who's all smiles and considerate words— it's so, so much easier for tom.

between a brat that trashes around for his attention, and a sweet girl who gently tries to indulge (purely out of concern, wanting him to share his problems with her!)— tom would rather choose the latter.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

quite the darling you are. to boldly take tom's hands between your own, with that frown of yours. no, you're not being whiny; yet tom can see that there's consideration, there's time spent on that little brain of yours, that tries to find the right words to speak with him.

then, when you voice your concerns— that tom spends some time alone from time to time, seemingly hiding something from you, as if to shoulder all of those burdens all by himself...

tom takes a deep breath, swallowing his temper. trying to keep his composure, because tom hates having to justify his actions. with a smile, tom puts on a facade, with a too much convincing tone: "oh, dearest, no. i'm flattered that you noticed that i haven't been having the best days; however, your presence makes everything better. in fact, being with you now, makes all of my problems seem insignificant in comparison."

should his sweet words not be enough to keep your nose out of his business, then tom takes a step further. holding your hands, tom squeezes them between his fingers, gently at first, tightly when you're too stubborn: "my problems are mine to solve, my love. i would never put such a heavy burden on you; your smile is too precious for me to ruin."

sweet, sweet words; some that tom mentally grimaces at, but knows that are necessary and effective with you. talking as if he's doing you a favor on keeping you away from his PERSONAL thoughts and goals.

and that's how tom pushes you way. gently, smoothly— so that you'd have to rethink this moment over and over, for you to understand that once again, tom riddle has tricked you; tricked you into doing what he wants. because without a fight, without you daring to bother him further... tom riddle made you go back to your own business, and leave his alone.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

however, when tom is in a better mood and less stressed with his own goals, he'd find it funny, entertaining even, if his darling tried to be bossy. to pout, to want some sort of control. it's hilarious for him.

so, he indulges you. well, sort of— tom tricks you into thinking that he gave in to your commands. to your whims. in a sneaky way, tom makes you think that you're in control!

the one who's in charge is you. yes, darling, of course. he pats your head, gives you that charming smile of his. with such a serene expression, tom briefly raises his eyebrows, mocking you inside that devious mind of his, as he says: you are absolutely right, dearest.

tom riddle doesn't really mind that you aren't consciously aware that the one in charge is him. that's fine; no, seriously, go and brag about it!

because ultimately, tom knows that what he says, goes. that with some sweet words of his, a little touch here and there, that you'll soon see the reason and comply to whatever tom wishes you to say, to do, to behave.

he does is so smoothly, that even for the outsiders, well... it'd be hard to realize that all that tom riddle is doing to you, is nothing but manipulation. and you're oh so easy to manipulate— it was a challenge at first. now, it's more of a chore; tom barely blinks through it. he knows you so well.

however, so that you whining and getting used to think that you're having things done your way, tom throws some praises and compliments here and there.

touching you chin, gently brushing his thumb on your lower lip; tom's gaze intentionally softens, as he praises: 'you're just too good to be true, my love.', whenever you act accordingly. when you do as he says.

brushing a strand of yours away from your face, so that he can further admire the physical features of his beloved: 'i sincerely can't take my eyes of you, darling, when you are so good for me like this. pardon the way that i stare— you're too beautiful.'

and with even more sincerity, tom riddle isn't sure where his manipulation ends and his genuine care for you starts; tom isn't sure, whether his words are now a muscle memory of his, or if he truly means them.

but he never allows himself to discover the roots of this thought. to actually find out if he truly is such an emotionally shallow person, or if his weakness for his darling is deeper than he realizes. no— this is one of the few matters, in which tom would rather remain ignorant about.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

because tom is such a gentleman with you...

opening doors for you. walking two, three steps ahead of you as soon as the entrance is upon sight, tom will open the door for you; his arm keeps it open for you to enter or leave the room first, and so those grayish-green eyes of his watch you, as you pass by. then, tom will enter just behind you, following your lead, quickening his steps to go back to his rightful place by your side. he lies to himself, saying that he only does such a small gesture to effortlessly keep you by his side. tom would be telling the truth, if he doesn't interrupt the thought that he enjoys to escort you— because, deep down, tom genuinely appreciates your company. every step, every minute you spend together. 'here, love. please, continue; what did you tell your housemate, then?'

tom riddle refuses to let you carry heavy books. so, as if it was muscle memory and so smoothly that you can't do anything about it, tom will carry your books along with his, as soon as you leave the classroom. it's not that he finds you useless, incapable; rather, tom riddle perceives you as a... preciously delicate, fragile little thing. most of the times, tom does it so nonchalantly that you don't even notice; you're too distracted by your conversation, to notice how tom carries your stuff, busying his arms. however, should you notice or worry that you're being a burden to tom in any way; tom shakes his head at you, waving off this silly insecurity of yours: 'i know you can carry them, beloved. however, allow me to do it for you. i am your boyfriend, am i not?'

offering his hand for you to take, whenever there's a higher step to be climbed up, or tricky stairs on your way. tom will do it too, to give you some kind of support, should you jump off of a particular high edge. whenever you wear high heels, tom would be specially careful with you— he offers his arm or hand for you to take, walking in a much slower pace than usual, so that you won't overexert your feet. we can't have his darling getting hurt, now can we? no bruises, no pain, no redness on your skin undesired by him, nothing to interrupt the lovely time you're spending together. 'take my hand, my love; it's quite high for you. that's it, darling, good girl.'

whenever you're about to sit, tom grabs the back of your chair, pushing the seat backwards for you to take, then helps you settle closer to the table. only then, will tom take his own seat in front of you. it's something that becomes so, so common between both of you, that sometimes you find yourself taking a few more seconds to sit down, whenever you hang out with your friends; unconsciously, you'd wait for tom to gently guide you to your seat. oh, you're spoiled.

leaning down to get the material you accidentally knocked out; if he's not quick enough to notice, then tom will keep his hand on the edge of the table, so that there's no chance for you to hit your head. 'quite the klutz, aren't you, darling?' — with a lighthearted tone, so that he doesn't come by as mean, tom couldn't help but to tease you just this time, — 'next time, let me get it for you, dearest. now, careful with your head.'

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

... and because he's always so soft-spoken with you, well, how could you listen to your friends, in case they notice that maybe tom riddle isn't as a good guy as he lets on? that perhaps, he is a little controlling. that maybe, he's too overprotective of you.

→ and of course, being the fool you are, you stroll to the lion's cage (or should we call it snake?) and deliver all of this information on a silver platter for him.

SAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS LAP, tom settles your thighs to rest on top of his, while a hand is respectfully kept there; caressing the smooth skin, rubbing circles on the bare skin of your thigh, just inches underneath the hem of your skirt.

tom riddle keeps up a serene expression, sometimes humming in acknowledgement, to show you that he's listening to this ramble of yours. if it's a topic that seems to have bothered or upsets you, then tom will keep another hand on your lower back; he soothes you with small movements of his fingers.

oh, how funny. so this ravenclaw friend of yours, told you that it isn't normal for tom, your boyfriend, to comment whether you roll up your skirt during summer? that such a thing is being controlling? now that's something tom will have to deal with. perhaps, he'll only have to frame this irritating ravenclaw girl; have you ever thought that maybe, she's interested in tom? that must be why the ravenclaw is filling your pretty little brain with such absurd exaggerations of his doings. how lucky you are, to have an attentive boyfriend that easily notices when a friend of yours has bad intentions.

( for obvious reasons, tom despises amortentia. he finds it disgusting, but more than that, tom riddle perceives amortentia has a rather pathetic tool to get someone's affection. tom will never use it on you— he doesn't need to! however, he will get his hands on one, to use it on that nosy, insufferable ravenclaw friend of yours. only to prove his point. so that this nosy girl acts disgustingly flirty around tom, so that you'll come running back into his arms, crying about such an awful friend and that once again, tom was right. you apologize to him, for doubting his assumptions. you end this friendship and cut ties with the ravenclaw girl. and tom, well, tom riddle has once again rid both of you from troublesome outsiders. )

ah, now this is entertaining! so these friends of yours, housemates, have noticed that tom has been keeping an eye on you. now, dearest, that's rather silly, don't you think? so what if you seem to find the same familiar faces in the same space as you? do you really believe your friends' theories? that he sends his followers ''friends'' to follow you around the school? darling, hogwarts is quite enormous and spacious, yet all of you study together in the same castle. it's inevitable, to see familiar faces, here and there.

( however, tom will blame his followers. how difficult can it be, to follow, to stalk a girl like you? and to go unnoticed as they do that? sincerely, tom stares at them with such disgust, such disappointment, that his followers tremble under his gaze— the future dark lord even mentions the idea of getting rid of them. of throwing them away. after all, why would he need such useless, such incompetent boys like them, if they can't follow simple orders correctly? it's excused to say, that you'd never suspect being stalked again. 1) because tom reassured you that such a thought is rather silly; and 2), because these followers of tom riddle do a much better job. out of fear. )

oh, darling, what silly friends you have! sincerely, it seems like you only attract observant delusional friends, or attentive paranoid companies!

in the end, it doesn't matter if your friends tried to alert you about tom's toxic concerning flaws traits. because in the end, at night, he will have you nuzzling on his lap, holding you so tenderly; all of these warnings disappear into thin air, when tom makes you laugh at such accurate ridiculous accusations.

in conclusion: no, tom riddle would never be rude or snap at you; not if he can help it, not if he can keep his temper in check. he believes that the best way to keep you so effortlessly devoted and infatuated, to keep you willingly by his side, is to treat you with care (even if sometimes he has to manipulate his way into it). how lucky you are, to have such a obsessive caring boyfriend!

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i'm endlessly faithful to theodore nott. however. the first to kick the entrance door to my heart was tom riddle. and what a man (i can't fix him. i would let him ruin my life him tho!), ladies and gentlemen.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[runningfrom2am]

the wedding // LTPF

summary: the wedding of the year, i can see it now.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. she's a bridezilla for REAL and i wish i included more of that energy, protective!coryo, idk people are drinking alcohol? (its a wedding, so duh), also TW for Livia and r's dad just existing p much.

based on this ask and this ask!

series masterlist // playlist

Everything was perfect. Absolutely everything you had dreamt of your whole life when it came to your wedding. Coryo had told you money was no object, and therefore, you spared no expense. You had a strong theory that your father was being sent every last bill, since you knew neither of you had anything more than what the Plinth's were providing for school, but that was the farthest thing from your problem. It was the least your father could do.

The hardest part of the whole thing, even before deciding who would give you away without your father, was deciding on your maid of honour. You didn't have many good friends, or friends at all, outside of your new husband. At one point, you wondered if had things gone differently, would you have chosen Lucy Gray?

Clemensia Dovecote was a fine enough choice. "Let me just say," Her speech began, hitting the side of her overfilled wine glass with a fork. "I have called this wedding for years, and no one believed me." She shot a smile over to you at the head table. "For anyone who doesn't know me, I'm Clemensia. Y/N's Maid of Honour." She had just thrived on the title since you offered it to her which, while annoying, was good because she took her position very seriously. She was the perfect choice- she looked nice, presentable in a dress you had picked out, but the colour clashed with the yellow in the whites of her eyes and the few scales that were yet to fall off after the snake bite. She looked fine, but she also made you look better. "But like I said, I knew this would happen."

She was drunk, repeating things in a way that made you cringe internally but nevertheless, you had to watch. The lights spread across the large backyard of the Plinth's mansion lit up the night beautifully, bouncing off every white and red rose you had spread about. You were very grateful to them for allowing you to host the reception there. They had done a lot for you in the last year since you returned from Twelve.

Mrs. Plinth was very involved with planning the wedding- she loved the winter wedding and leaning into it as a theme. It worked out nicely because it gave her something to think about other than the death of her only child, and she was a tremendous help and support to you. You were truly grateful, but this day was hard on them without Sejanus there. She had mentioned on more than one occasion that Sejanus would have been the best man, and you only slightly doubted that. You wouldn't want it to be anyone else- but Coryo would have had different thoughts, you're sure.

"How much longer will this go on for?" Your now husband whispers in your ear, fake smile on his face as he also has to listen to Clem's rambling.

"I really don't know." You reply with the same fake smile, knowing that eyes were on you just as much as her.

"Some choice for a maid of honour." He chuckles.

You roll your eyes, a playful smile on your lips. "Oh, well, I would have gone with Arachne Crane but, you know..."

"Fair enough." He mumbles, sitting back in his seat. "Are you really the only woman in the Capitol who isn't insufferably annoying? You should have been your own maid of honour."

"Well it was her or Tigris, and Tigris is prettier than me so she wasn't really an option." You hum, grabbing his hand under the table as you keep your eyes focussed on Clemensia, not paying attention to a word she says.

Coryo laughs. "Tigris is not prettier than you."

"She's your cousin, your opinion is invalid." You shrug it off.

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm right." He argues, squeezing your hand.

You don't reply, and you let his hand go to clap once Clem is finally finished. You had already eaten, so now it was supposed to be the "fun part", as Clemensia so aptly put it in her speech. You found it rude, yes, but it wasn't a big deal and after tonight you wouldn't have to see her again for a while.

It was brisk out, being a winter wedding you should have expected that, but you still had another dress to change into so you excuse yourself from the table, kissing your husband goodbye as he gets up as well.

You hadn't allowed him to see any of your dresses, and this would be your third one today alone. He loved every one, and did not expect to be disappointed by the next. Or the one after that.

"Hey, congrats, Coriolanus." He tears his gaze away from your retreating figure to whoever was talking to him.

"Thank you, Hilarius." He nods, smiling politely at him and reaching out to shake his hand.

"I saw this one coming miles away." His classmate laughs. "You remember that though, right?"

"When you said that if I wasn't going to go after her you would?" Coryo asks, eyebrow raised. "I do remember that. It makes me wonder who let you in..." It's meant as a joke as he makes a point of looking past him toward the security they have at the entrance.

He furrows his brow when his eyes catch on your father standing there, arguing with one of the security guards, his wife by his side.

"If you would excuse me..." He says, walking toward them before Hilarius could even respond.

"Ugh, I know. Why did you even invite her, Y/N/N?" Clemensia complains as Tigris helps you step out of your gown.

"Who?" You ask, unsure what she was even talking about.

"Livia." She states, yet another glass of red wine in her hand.

"Oh, I kind of had to. Connections and all that." You shrug. You weren't Livia's biggest fan, she had a "greater than thou" attitude that drove you up the wall, but who in this city didn't?

"Ah, yes. Of course." She hums. "She had a lot of audacity to show up in that dress though..."

Your head whips around to look at her. "What dress?"

"You haven't seen her?" She gasps. "I thought you saw her! It's this white-based floral, really questionable for someone else's wedding. Looks like a tablecloth." She accentuates the statement with a sip from her glass.

Your jaw ticks and you look toward the door, already seeing red.

"Hey, Y/N, it's okay." Tigris rests her hands on your shoulders, prompting you to look at her. "We'll tell security, they can escort her out if that's what you want."

You take a breath, forcing a smile on your face. "Let's not bother them. I'll just go chat with her." You smile, stepping out of the dress in bare feet, quickly grabbing Clemensia's overfilled wine glass from her hand on your way out the door.

"Y/N, Wait! Don't!" Tigris calls after you, well aware of your notorious temper by now, but you don't listen.

You're in your white slip when you storm back out to the reception area through the back patio, immediately and quickly scanning the crowd for the guest in question. You know you have seconds before Tigris likely tries to stop you, but you know Clemensia won't. Then, you see her.

You're seething already. That's practically a wedding dress on its own. You would kill her.

You stomp across the ground, tunnel vision locked on her as she raises her glass to her lips, laughing, and talking with other guests, completely careless to what she had done wrong. Well, she would learn today.

"Livia Cardew!" You grin, walking up to her. "I don't recall sending you an invitation, but here you are!"

Immediately, she's taking in your appearance, giggling at your lack of appropriate attire and shoes. "Y/N! Congratulations." She says, eyes finally locking with yours again.

"May I have a word?" You ask, already grabbing her arm and pulling her away.

"Is there a problem here?" Coriolanus asks, addressing only his security as your father stands there, red-faced with anger.

"Yeah, they've got no invite." He nods, showing Coryo the list in his hands which he quickly pretends to look over.

"Oh! Sorry, yes. There you are..." He says, pointing down at the bottom and your father visibly relaxes. "Under the title there that says 'not welcome under any circumstances'... Well then." He looks at your father now for the first time, tilting his head at him.

"No, this is my daughter's wedding and we will be let in!" He demands, raising his voice.

Coryo clicks his tongue, slightly shaking his head. "No, sir, I thought we were clear on this."

"No, you said the wedding. This, if I'm not mistaken, is the reception. I made my sacrifice. Now, I'm here."

"And only about two hours late." Coryo hums uninterestedly, looking down at his watch. "Father of the year."

Your father's fuming, and it's hard for Coryo to not laugh in his face. "I paid for everything here! You can't deny us entry!"

"I can." Coryo says. "Well, actually, my apologies. Mrs. Y/L/N, you are welcome to come in, if you'd like." He smiles at her, polite demeanour flicked back on like a light switch.

Your father quickly pulls her back behind him. "It's both of us or neither of us. Go ask our daughter." He states, gripping tightly on her arm.

"Oh, no. I won't be ruining our wedding." Coryo shakes his head, firm in his decision. "I'll tell Y/N you send your love, Ma'am. Have a good night."

"No! You will let us in right now or-" Your father's tantrum is interrupted by a commotion across the yard, drawing Coryo's attention. People gasp in shock, and then he sees you, about to absolutely lay into Livia Cardew, who now has red wine all over her face and the front of her dress.

"I must be going, now." Coryo tells them, turning back to the security guard and adjusting the cuffs of his shirt to be able to roll up his sleeves. "If you don't mind, call for peacekeepers to escort him from the property. Thank you."

He doesn't have time to hear your father's angry disagreement as he walks away.

"So," You drop her arm, turning to face her. "I'm not sure if you are aware, but this isn't your wedding." You spit, gesturing to her dress. "And listen, I get it! You're jealous. That's fine, but it's extremely tacky and honestly embarrassing for you to wear a white dress to a wedding that's not yours."

Livia's lips fall open in shock, looking down at her dress before she laughs. "Y/N, come on. It really isn't that serious, you realize that, right?"

You stare at her for a moment, weighing your options. You could smash the glass over her head like you wanted to, demand that she leave immediately, or, you could 'accidentally' spill the glass on her. Before you complete the thought, you're throwing the contents of Clemensia's glass at the front of her dress, smiling as it splatters up over her face and in her hair, dripping down the front of her expensive-looking gown.

"Oops."

Livia gasps, wiping the red substance from around her eyes and flicking it off. "I thought that for one day you could be normal! God, you are vile!" She's practically screaming now.

"This is entirely your fault, you do realize that, right?" You tilt your head at her, a slight laugh under your tone. "If you wanted my husband just say that."

"I- ugh!" She groans in frustration and anger, swiping her hands over the liquid on her chest and flicking it all at you, staining the perfectly white satin of your slip. You look down at it, and then back at her. You were about to go through the roof.

The amount of people watching in the immediate vicinity is the only thing keeping you from grabbing her hair and shoving her head into the dirt. You decide to scream instead.

It turns into more of a wail, pumping angry tears into fake sad ones. Coryo is there in a second. "Darling, what's happened?" He asks, horrified as he looks between the two of you, grabbing your shoulders.

"I-" You sniff, pointing to the girl in front of you. "I just came to offer her something to change into because that is out of dress code and I tripped and-" You hiccup as he's rubbing up and down your bare arms. "It was an accident, and then she... It was just an accident! Now my dress is ruined and, and-"

He turns his gaze to Livia who just looks pissed while you ramble on about having had a little too much to drink, that was all. He's sure that's not what happened, he knows his wife better than that, but this show was not for him. He looks her up and down, visibly disgusted by her choice of dress. It honestly looks better now.

"Coriolanus that's not-" She chuckles with the shock of the accusation, shaking her head as she pleads with him.

"It's time for you to go." He tells her, looking toward a member of security who's not busy with your father, quickly waving him over.

Livia looks at the approaching security man in shock. "I didn't do anything!"

"That dress and causing a scene over it is more than enough." He states, wrapping an arm around your waist and wiping your tears from your cheeks. "Let's get you some water, Darling. It's okay..."

"It's not!" You cry, gesturing to the few small drops of wine on the front of your dress. "It's ruined! She ruined everything!"

Just as she's about to be escorted out, you make eye contact with her, offering a smug smile. She scoffs, which earns her a grab on the arm and a more forceful expulsion from the reception.

"Y/N!" Tigris is rushing across the lawn toward you, careful not to stumble in her shoes and bridesmaids' dress. "What happened?" She asks, addressing her cousin now.

"She's okay, there was just an accident with a glass of wine. We're just going to take a few minutes. I'll help her change." He explains to her.

She nods, looking worriedly down at the small stains in your dress. "I should be able to get this out, alright?" She assures you, rubbing a clean spot of the fabric between her fingers to make sure.

"Okay, thank you." You sniff, leaning into your husband's side as he guides you back up to the house.

You get inside and upstairs to what has become your dressing room and secondary bedroom over the last year. As soon as he shuts the door behind you, you can't hold your laughter back anymore. You're practically doubled over with it, and immediately Coryo understands. He chuckles, shaking his head at you.

"What a show..." He grins fondly, pulling you into a hug which you happily return.

"Oh, you liked it?" You giggle, coming down from your laughing fit.

"It was wonderful." He agrees, kissing the top of your head. "For a moment I was worried about you."

"Aw, really?" You look up at him, jutting your lip out in a pout.

"Definitely." He hums, kissing you softly. "Now come on, let's get you changed, huh?"

"Please." You nod, kissing him again before pulling back to pull your next dress from the closet. "I was supposed to wear this underneath, but now I can't." You sigh, hanging the full dress on the door before pulling the wine-stained one over your head.

"Just that will do, I suppose." Coryo mumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you toss the slip onto the ground.

"Oh, you suppose, do you?" You chuckle, reaching up to pull the new dress from its hanger.

"Mhm." He nods, planting a kiss in the crook of your neck. "Makes my job easier later."

You laugh, blush spreading over your cheeks and flushing your chest while you unzip the back. You carefully balance as you step into the opening in the fabric, pulling it up around your waist.

"Don't rush, Darling. It will probably take you a while to recover before we can return to the party." He says, watching you adjust the skirt before you plan on zipping it up.

"Good point." You agree, but make no effort to stop until Coryo places his hand over yours.

"What should we do with all this time we have to kill, hm?" He's already leaning down to kiss over the back of your neck.

"I feel like you have an idea..." You mumble, tilting your head to adjust to his presence.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" He asks as he gently pushes the fabric back down to drop in a pool around your ankles.

"You may have mentioned it..." You turn under his palms as they land on your lower back, gently pulling you closer. "And I love you too. More than you could ever imagine, Coryo."

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey ,  @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

[alchemistc]

Just thinking about Buck internalizing 'i don't think you're ready'. Thinking about him running back over his 'I'm an ally' speech and cringing because God, WHY did he say that, why couldn't he have just been cool.

Thinking about him actually sitting in it, and thinking about why the interruption from Eddie made him Act Like That. There's obviously the newness, the discomfort, the fact that Buck hasn't really had a chance to explore much of "Oh, I am attracted to men." yet. He was so busy with nerves and he wanted more time and then there was Eddie, who knows (probably too much) about Buck's dating history and he Hasn't Told Eddie about this. He hasn't had a chance to wrap his own mind around it yet.

Buck usually goes to three people: Maddie, Eddie, Bobby.

And he hasn't talked to any of them. And he's stewing, trying to figure out WHY, because he's always been supportive, so why should he feel any different when he's on the other side of it.

He goes to Maddie and pushes his "I've always supported the gays" agenda AGAIN and Maddie has to parse the details, gently shove Buck in the right direction - well, if you're MORE than an ally now, that could be something that is preventing you from telling your best friend the truth, let's explore that some more.

It takes him two tries with Eddie, and maybe it's the setting (why would you think it was a good idea to come out in the middle of the station, Evan Buckley, supportive ally or no that's not exactly gonna put you in your comfort zone, c'mon) or maybe he just needs to work his way up to it because Eddie is obviously Preoccupied. But he almost lets the moment pass, again, at home, in his own space, bc Eddie is still Preoccupied. But -- but he doesn't WANT to, because they are talking about their love lives and Buck wants Eddie to be an active participant in his thought process just like he always is.

We were on a date, he says, and Eddie takes a second to process. Which. Fair. Buck had leaned against his kitchen island for like ten minutes after Tommy left, that night after he kissed him. Eddie prompts him to repeat it, and it doesn't suck, actually, it feels like a weight lifting off his chest -- "Is that weird?" -- but of course Eddie doesn't find it weird, he just didn't KNOW (so many pieces of the puzzle fall into place for Eddie, holy shit his best friend maimed him because he had a crush on their new friend, holy shit had Tommy been slyly pumping his son for information because HE had a crush too???).

And suddenly Buck is absolutely free to bitch about his love life again, and Eddie is there to give him advice and be fully in his corner and Buck has exactly what he needs to go Full Buck. He's got his sister, and his best friend, and maybe he actually doesn't need Bobby this time because it feels right to call Tommy up and set up a meeting for coffee.

No longer bogged down by "well I'm an ally why couldn't I have been chill about being on a date with a dude" - he can text Maddie that night and be like "Hey is Tommy already invited to the wedding?" and grin when she texts back "Buck what does this mean" and send back "You said you wanted to meet him".

With Eddie's support and his "well then he's an idiot", Buck has the time to mull over what he wants to say, what Tommy makes him feel, what he would want if Tommy was willing to give him another chance. He doesn't want it to be one failed date, he doesn't want to hide Tommy away, he wants something real and something true and something he can share with his family and friends and he thinks maybe Tommy could want that, too.

[wisteriaiswriting]

Hello! May I request for Sova, Iso, Gekko, Jett, cypher, and Reyna reacting to a reader who absolutely loves sour things? For example she eats lemons like oranges in a daily basis and eats super sour candy like it's nothing

𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕪 ℙ𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕪 𝕃𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕖𝕫𝕪

Words: 864

He’ll search around for any type of sour recipes, to either make them himself or find someone else if he has a lack of time.

Most of the time he’ll try the food, whether or not he actually likes them (I imagine him as a spicer type.) you’ll be able to have the majority.

He’ll search around for any type of sour recipes, to either make them himself or find someone else if he has a lack of time.

Most of the time he’ll try the food, whether or not he actually likes them (I imagine him as a spicer type.) you’ll be able to have the majority.

***

Hours ago he left, and the only answer you got when asked was ‘Market.’ It seemed he was planning something as he would normally tell you, and even ask if you would accompany him.

This time though you were left in the dark until he returned. Which luckily wasn’t too long ago, now you had to endure him removing you from the kitchen for who knows how long. First he leaves you then bans you from your own house? What was he up to?

Well luck seemed to be on your side today as he was quick to call for you. Returning to see a bunch of packets on the counter, a closer inspection only showed Russian writing on them. Even with the images you had no clue.

“Y/N, I believe you’ve been asking about my homelands candy?”

Oh…

Majority of the time he just… doesn’t notice the amount of sour stuff you eat.

The only items he notices are the wrappers, fruits and other foods, although he won’t question you about it.

***

Recently Iso had started noticing a few things. Such as candy wrappers, especially sour candy. The fruit bowls had more lemons and other citrus fruits then the normal ones, the pantry was similar.

It wasn’t weird though, he had his preferences and you had yours. It just seemed to be sour food. While he wouldn’t eat it much if you enjoyed it he wouldn’t complain.

He’s learnt to handle anything but sour growing up.

If you eat anything sour in his sight he will openly cringe, might say something as well.

***

Gekko was bored. Everyone else was either on a mission or just too busy to deal with him, except you. He found you in the kitchen, eating what he assumed were grapes, from a bowl.

“Mateo, what some?” You held your hand out, which held the fruits. Ones he took gracefully. The sweet flavour never showed, instead covered by immediate sourness. Causing him to spit them out.

“What was that?”

“Hmm?”

“Those!” He pointed at the mess.

“Oh, they’re Gooseberries.”

She's cooked and tasted more than her fair share of sour food, so she’s learnt how to handle it.

Is aware not many people can handle sour well, but that won’t stop her from teasing anyone.

***

It was Jett’s turn to make dinner, and this time she made Tungsuyuk. She’s grown so used to cooking for the both of you she honestly forgot how others couldn’t handle the sourness of it.

But she also made yours special, able to give you a larger portion. Even then the others couldn’t handle it.

“Jett! What did you put in this?”

“C’mon Neon, I thought you could handle this?” Turns out she couldn’t, watching the group either give up or drink more water.

Due to his connections and access, if there's something you want he’ll be able to get it, the only problem is if he will.

He is kinda a picky eater, also much prefers spice over sour. So he won’t try many, only a select few me might enjoy.

***

The mission brief had just finished, and unluckily for you Cypher managed to scurry off from you. So until he came back around you’d have to either entertain yourself or find someone, but it seems he thought of that already.

As a decently sized box sat on your bed, seemingly just delivered as all the agents were in the meeting. And on top sat a note.

‘My Dear,

Hopefully these are to your liking, I’ll be waiting for your answer.

Love, Amir.’

And you guessed it, the box was full of sour Moroccan snacks and foods. Knowing he’ll be ready to order them and more.

This woman is not fazed, as she’s seen worse things. But will look at you like you asked the dumbest question ever if she sees you eating a lemon, at all.

From her experience souls taste… different to say. And a good few are weirdly sour, so she isn’t too put off by their flavour and sensation.

***

The day was just another, this one neither you or Reyna were to be sent on missions. So you spent it hanging around with others, while she was training. When she finally finished she started walking back to her room, passing you and Gekko in the living area.

A quick glance had her brain assuming you held an orange, nothing out of the ordinary. Until Gekko spoke up.

“Ew dude, why would you- stay away!”

At first she was alarmed until she remembered who you two were. Slowly stepping back to see you holding out the orange- wait no, that's not an orange. You were holding a lemon, one that currently had a bite mark.

At the realization she could only stare at you, turning into a glare when you made eye contact.

“Want some?”

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part One

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Hey! First time writing for Em so I figured I'd use a side account and see how it went? Honestly this is a whole series in my mind so might add onto this first part soon! An oc character but can be read as a reader insert if you prefer:)

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

Warnings: Lots of swearing, dark humour

Masterlist

I was mortified.

More so than I’d probably ever been, in truth. All because of a stupid video that had been taken a couple of years back when I’d had one drink too many on a holiday I’d always dreamt of.

To be fair though, the majority of the blame lied heavily on my younger sister’s shoulders, who’d found the stupid thing whilst reminiscing through old memories and thought it would be hilarious to post online. Forgetting about the millions of fans who would soon see it– and not just mine, it would seem.

No, because that just wasn’t how the internet worked, was it? And when a newly nominated artist, who had only been in the game for a couple years, was filmed rapping an old noughties classic instead of singing like expected, it was basically bound to go viral. Didn’t help that I was a Londoner through and through and had the accent to prove it, making the whole video that much harder to watch. In truth, I continued to cringe each time I was reminded of it, which was practically anytime I opened up social media or witnessed the guilty expression that continued to mar my sister’s face.

“Stop doing that.” I huffed at her later on when the worst of it still continued to storm on, almost whining actually as I looked away from my phone screen and down at the food I wasn’t really eating, just picking at. I was supposed to be mad, infuriated even, but it was proving to be a fucking chore when she kept on looking at me like that.

“Doing what?” Lottie retorted, not even attempting to wipe the culpable look from off of her face. She was currently residing back at mum’s now, seeing as how she had school and I’d only just landed back home, but I’d give it a day before she was back here again. My flight over had been strenuous, it always was when flying to and from Cali, but still I made time for her– even after the most recent stunt she had gone and pulled.

“Don’t do that either.” 

I’d meant to sound scolding but the soft laugh that escaped me truly was accidental. I couldn’t quite help it, I knew that being mad at her wouldn’t solve anything now and that she hadn’t really meant any harm by posting the video. That was just the type of person she was, she acted before she thought things through and didn’t ever think much for the consequences. Then again, she was still only fourteen and her putting the drunken moment on her Instagram story had just been one of those sibling type moments, the kind where you’d rip the piss out of one another simply because you could.

“I mean it, Lotts.” I sighed around the words, eyes flitting back to the screen and the way she was chewing on her lower lip. “It’s being sorted and, I don't know, I guess it’ll die down sooner or later. Mila reckons so anyway. We’ll give it a day or two, hey?”

A day or two did pass. And no such thing happened.

I’d been cooped up at home ever since I’d touched down at Heathrow, having jumped in the first cab available and fallen asleep the second I’d gotten in through the door. I’d been working out in LA for a couple weeks with a few other writers, just messing about with new sounds and ideas for the next album I eventually wanted to release. So I hadn’t been witness to the media catastrophe Lottie had created until later the next afternoon when Mila, my manager, had all but mowed down my front door, having called my phone three dozen times and gotten a guy she was currently seeing in the city to come buzz my intercom. It had been a wake up call and a half to say the least.

Still, she had assumed it would all die down fairly quickly, went as far to say that it could do wonders for my career– even with me being visibly tipsy– after having had the absolute gall to say that I hadn’t sounded half as bad as I thought I did. I’d cackled hysterically into the phone at that, then had somewhat of a meltdown, in utter disbelief over the apparent reaction she claimed the video had gone and garnered. Because I was absolutely not looking. Knew that if I did there would be too large a chance that I’d check myself into the nearest psychiatric unit. 

But as I said, a couple of days had passed and typically something like this would have eventually blown over when the next big story hit the headlines. White girl can spit a verse, who cared? Only then the VMA’s had happened and shit hit the fucking fan.

I hadn’t attended, shit like that had always irked me. I could perform in front of a crowd of thousands and step off feeling as high as a kite, but stick me on a carpet and force me to interact with cameras, questions, and people? That was where I drew the line.

At the start, I had tried. I’d been new on the scene and people had reasoned that I would just end up being another one hit wonder, so the label had figured it best if I got myself out there, if only to interact with other artists and producers in similar circles.

It had gone down a treat– like a cake being knocked over at the wedding of the year. Maybe even worse. I didn’t like to linger too long on it.

But I’d tried again and again afterwards, although it had only proven to worsen my mood each time and forced me to retreat, avoiding my team and the responsibilities I had lined up for a short while after. It was only following a particularly uncomfortable night that Mila had called it quits and had a contract drawn up stating that I only had to attend a certain amount of events a year. It had been at that moment that I’d realised just how fucked I would have been in this industry without her.

Even so, life still continued on without me and the VMA’s were just another show I would be mostly avoiding, only making a statement at the end of the night online for the nominations I’d been gifted.

It was around midnight when I heard the scream.

Lottie was staying with me, typical for whenever I was back in London for a few weeks at a time, and so I’d felt my heart literally drop to my feet at the very sound of her screech and legged it across the entirety of the house. At first, I’d thought she’d slipped and fallen, maybe cracked her head open on a counter. And then the thought of an intruder had crossed my mind whilst I’d gone skidding over the landing. So anyone could understand why I was so worked up when I finally threw open her bedroom door only to find her simply sat there on her phone, hand covering her mouth.

“What the hell is your problem? It’s just gone twelve, Lottie! I thought something had happened!” I rebuked her, chest heaving as I dropped the heavy bookend I’d managed to pick up somewhere on my way over down onto her desk. “Shit.”

Her eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them though when I finally did get around to catching my breath and chanced another glance back at her.

“I was literally just about to fall asleep.” Which really meant that I’d been getting into bed to scroll through my phone or read a book when I’d heard her shout. “Then you screamed as though Freddy Krueger was stood at your window.”

“Elia.” 

I blinked, Lottie rarely did that, used my entire name and not the usual shortened version or whatever other epithet that came to mind– and truly, there was a large variety, the shit I’d heard this kid come out with was insane. But I shook my head at the thought and quirked a brow at her. “What? Did someone die?”

“No,” She answered me, dropping her hand away from her face even though her jaw was still gaping, “But I just might.”

Rolling my eyes at the theatrics, I exhaled and walked over to slump on the end of her bed, figuring that something had happened between her and one of her friends, or maybe some lad she might’ve been speaking to. “And it deserved a scream like that? Honestly Lotts, just be thankful this place doesn’t have any neighbours listening in through the walls.” I told her, thinking back to my own adolescent years and the woman in the flat beside ours, “We’d have someone knocking at the door in under a half hour.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes then as she scoffed at me– like I was the one being dramatic here– before she then shook her head and shuffled hurriedly over the mattress to sit closer. “No Lia, just listen, look.”

Confused, I sighed and tilted my head when Lottie moved to shove her mobile in my face. I squinted at the sudden contrast, showing off my age and the horrific tragedy that was my eyesight, and tried to make sense of whatever it was that she was so hellbent on showing me. 

From what I could first make out, it was just a Twitter thread, but then Lotts then clicked on the main video at the top. I waited as the clip buffered for a second, then a familiar face panned into focus and I felt my brow furrow. I peered over at Lottie for a split second before her eyes were widening in retort and she gestured her chin back towards the screen.

I narrowed my own eyes in turn, but watched on.

It had to be a coincidence, I reasoned. That of all people it was him that Lottie was currently showing me.

“Well, aren’t we in for a show tonight! Eminem is in the house, people!” An interviewer started, she was a tall, leggy blonde who held a too big microphone too close to her chin. “How are you feeling?”

I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was to see him on the VMA’s carpet, not after the comeback he’d made late last year with LP 2, but I was, eyes caught on the bleached buzz cut he’d since reverted back to for the album’s release. Fuck, I’d be so pissed if it came out that he was performing tonight and I’d gone ahead and missed it.

Lottie thumped my shoulder, hard, realising fairly quickly that I hadn’t really been listening, and so I scowled in retort but gritted my teeth to keep from thumping her right back. She might’ve been my sister, but I had well over a decade on the kid and was marginally her guardian, just not in writing.

The rapper had seemingly just finished commenting on a question the tall blonde had asked him and so I forced myself to pay closer attention, brain whirling as I wondered what could have possibly been so important that it had Lottie screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night.

“I feel that!” The woman practically beamed at the rapper, head nodding along to whatever he’d just said, “But it’s good to hear that you’re enjoying being back. In truth, I wasn’t sure I’d catch you here tonight, there’s been a lot of buzz surrounding you at the moment and not just because of the album!”

My heart stuttered in my chest. Actually, I was pretty sure it had gone and fallen out of my arse, especially when the interviewer continued to press on the topic and it appeared as though the man in question understood exactly what she was getting at. His stoic facade cracked just a tad and– there! A smirk. An ever so slight crook of his mouth. I shot a startled glance over at Lottie but her gaze was fixated on the screen.

“I mean, have you seen it?” The interviewer prompted whilst he simply stood there, fisted hands clasped before him. No sign of the split second curve he’d just had on his lips. “The whole world’s been wondering about your thoughts on the singer!”

And there it was.

“I can’t,” I started to say, turning away from the phone just as a rush of nausea flooded through me, but Lottie held strong, hand coming up to catch my shoulder so that she could position her phone back in my eyeline. “Lottie–” I tried. Please.

“Just listen.” She persisted, face so serious.

Immediately I wanted to rescind my earlier statement. This was now my most mortifying moment. In fact, I wanted to hide in the nearest cupboard and never come out again. How the fuck was I going to show my face in public, not to mention at the next event, after this?

I swallowed thickly, entirely unprepared to hear a word he had to say about me. I mean, who would be? This man was leagues above a majority of the industry, me included. Never had I ever even thought that he could hear my name in passing, let alone listen to one of my songs playing in some shop he was coincidentally in or a random radio station. But here he now was, rolling his lips as he pondered over a question which concerned that stupid fucking video. 

“I hate you.” I whispered at Lottie, mostly in hopes to cover up whatever he was about to say, but also because I was embarrassed beyond belief. And this was all her fault.

In the time spent since the drunken video had first gone up and now, I had yet to even think about him ever seeing it. Because the idea was that far fetched. But this was me, so of course he had.

“I’ve heard it.” Marshall confirmed, his head dipped in a barely there nod. My throat cinched. I wondered briefly how quickly I’d be able to tie myself a noose.

“And?” The woman prodded and internally I cursed her future bloodline, hoping that she'd somehow spawn the next antichrist or that her grandchild would become a shit-headed politician.

The man in question merely hummed, hollowing out his cheeks. “I was surprised, I have to admit. But she’s good, even when wasted.”

“I wasn’t fucking wasted!” 

I hadn't even realised I’d spoken out loud until Lottie snorted on a chuckle. I turned towards her, brows raised high, “What? I wasn’t. You were there!”

I rolled my eyes when she didn’t deign me with some sort of assent but my head snapped back over to where she still gripped the phone when I heard him speak again, his voice echoing throughout the quiet bedroom.

“Then again, her shit goes hard. So it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.”

That heart of mine that I kept on talking about? Yeah, I had zero clue as to what the fuck was going on with it now, only that my chest was wound as tight as it possibly could be and my eyes stung as I withheld the urge to even blink.

“You’re a fan?” The woman asked him, appearing genuinely surprised by the notion, even though it sounded more like a declaration rather than the question it was.

Marshall hummed, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder when a group shuffled on past them, disrupting the interview. It didn’t deter the woman though and I couldn’t blame her, no matter how much it pained me.

“So, could this mean we’ll be seeing a new featured artist on whatever you put out next?”

I made some sort of inhuman sound at that, but barely moved a muscle. And then I all but shutdown when the rapper's wide eyes flickered over to peer straight into the camera’s lens, “I mean, if she’s down.”

The next scream that was emitted once again came from Lottie, but I couldn’t think to scold her for it, not when I was hardly even functioning and wanted to implode myself. 

The girl toppled over onto me, shaking my shoulders whilst she squealed unabashedly. “If. She’s. Down!” She repeated, squealing with excitement, “El, this is insane! How are you not screaming too?”

The air I forced from my lungs came out in a breathless chuckle as I clung to the forearm that was still wrapped around my collar. In truth, I didn’t know how the hell I was supposed to react. 

“Figure you’ve screamed enough for the both of us.” I replied faintly, not really thinking but somehow managing to carry on, mostly out of sheer shock. I glanced her way, “I feel a bit sick.”

Lottie just shook me harder and when we eventually went falling down onto the duvet in a mess of limbs I wondered what I was going to do with the knowledge that I’d just been given. God. He knew who I was. The shock of it was almost like reliving my first time on stage all over again.

That night I ended up listening to Lottie rant on and on for a good while after whilst she scrolled through her Twitter feed and the rest of the internet. Mila eventually intervened, calling after having seen it too, and was as smug as ever. “Told you.” She’d said the second I’d hit the answer button and I hadn’t had the heart to play it off or act as though I hadn’t seen it either. 

After the interview eventually finished trending and stopped being posted here, there, and everywhere, I was left with a flow of new followers but also a nightmare of opinions spouting from every corner of the planet on any comment section I had to offer. I forced myself to come off most apps I had downloaded after that and resorted to gaining my daily entertainment, and any real news, from Lottie. Which seemed sad, in retrospect, but honestly? It was more than a little self-serving and I’d even managed to get a shit load of stuff done.

I worked on a couple new songs, sticking to what I did best, but my mind did end up drifting away every so often, back to a conversation I’d had with Mila and Travis at the label a couple days after the media storm had passed. It seemed they all wanted me to try implementing a few new concepts into the music I was currently working on before we started to draw up ideas for the next album. Travis reasoned that even attempting to add a couple freestyles into the motions whilst I went about writing would do me wonders later on. 

I just felt uncomfortable with it all, really. I’d never been a rapper. I mean, I loved it. It was mainly what I’d been brought up on, having grown up in an area where every kid on the estate was either attempting to become the next big thing or just blaring the biggest hits out of their car stereos. But that was just it. I listened and sang along, had even built up an extensive collection which I was immensely proud of, but the label were now aiming for this next album to make it onto a Grammy nominations list. It was all they had been fretting over since I’d somehow managed to chart the last one– although a single number one and an almost throw away making it to number seven didn’t make me all that hopeful. 

Even so, it forced me to wonder how it would all work if I started to switch things up now. I could appreciate all genres but I didn’t wanna become the next hopper just to appease the people yessing me and then fall off.

The entire concept had me confused and so I had taken to keeping my head down for a while longer.

Lottie had headed back to mum’s earlier that morning, seeing as I was due to make an appearance in Paris for Fashion Week, attending the Vogue show alongside Vivienne Westwood. An utter dream, yes, but also still an incredibly daunting reality. Even so, it was something I couldn’t quite worm my way out of even if I had wanted to– see, with that contract there still came clauses.

I’d been prepping for my upcoming early morning flight most of the day, showering later on than anticipated just so that I could pack my case and eat before I eventually climbed into bed. Hoping to somehow get a couple hours kip.

I’d thrown on a robe and kept the speakers blaring once I’d eventually jumped out from under the spray, wet hair curling at the ends as I worked on throwing something quick together in my kitchen.

It wasn't long before I went and took the bowl I’d just made out into the living room with me, simply so that I could curl up on the settee and wrap up the few emails I’d been working on earlier. I was just nodding along and humming to the next song that played through the overhead speakers when my phone started to buzz against my ankle, shooting a funny feeling up through the bone. I was quick to pick it up, wrinkling my nose at the feel and not paying much mind to the caller, figuring it had to be either Mila or Lottie.

“Hello?”

There was a short pause as I shifted the phone against my ear before a voice eventually sounded, “This Elia?”

Frowning, I casted a quick glance at the phone’s screen to find a number with an unfamiliar area code staring back at me. I let my gaze stray on over towards a clock I had hanging on the far wall only to find that it had just gone eight. 

I fumbled for a moment, “Um. It is, can I ask who’s calling?”

A low cough rumbled through the line before the same voice spoke again, I shuffled to set my laptop off to the side on the sofa, brow furrowed. “It’s Em– Marshall.”

Suddenly my head felt so very empty and my mouth was working around words that couldn't seem to find their way out. Em. The Em?? Fucking, Em?

I’d obviously been quiet a beat too long, drowning in the sudden panic that had shrouded me, because he spoke up again, “That Nas playin’?”

I shot a startled glance over my shoulder to where the fancy sound system was installed, the biggest reason I’d gone and purchased the home, in truth, and was immediately reminded of the music I had piercing through the air. Clumsily, I rolled off of the corner of the settee so that I could stumble over to turn the thing off, doing exactly that before I was forced to blink at the sudden silence that greeted me.

I winced and was quick to turn the music back on, keeping it low. All the while I still held my phone close to my chest.

“Uh, yeah. Hi!” I blundered helplessly after a moment, carding a hand through my damp hair as I stared at the empty wall before me stupidly. I wasn’t sure what to say, let alone do. I could sort of wrap my head around the interview, his brief mention of me. But a fucking phone call? It was on another level.

He chuckled though, enough so that I felt myself flush bashfully at my obvious awkwardness and forced my body to move back towards the sofa, if only so that I didn’t have to stand on shaky legs anymore. 

“Hi.” He mimicked, voice low albeit a tad amused.

I smiled. Unable to do anything but, in all honesty, as I lowered myself down onto the cushions, vaguely aware that I should probably be saying something else now that he’d gone and replied, but was simply more than a little caught off guard by everything. 

“Sorry, I– Well, I didn’t expect your call. Or anyones really.” I murmured, trying my best to shake off the nerves that were apparently wreaking havoc on my brain to mouth filter. “I just jumped out of the shower, had yet to turn off the stereo. Sorry.” How many times had I just apologised? I wanted to scream.

“You’re good.” He assured me, voice unlike what I probably would have expected and so I blinked once more at the sound of it, reminded that it was actually him I was talking to. But all that was fluttering through my head was ‘what the fuck are you doing calling me?’ “Nice choice, I gotta say. This an alright time for you to talk? I don’t wanna disturb you much.”

My eyes widened at both the compliment in song choice and well, him. Then withheld another sudden urge to scream, the hand not holding my phone clenching into a tight fist against my chest. “No, no, of course not. I mean, you’re fine! Not disturbing me at all.”

His next reply sounded more than just a little mirthful, “Sure ‘bout that?”

I willed myself to relax and took an inconspicuous breath as I pulled my legs back up under me. “I’m sure.” I told him, laughing lightly at myself for being so socially inept– or maybe it was just this entire scenario I’d been shoved into. “How’d you even get my number anyway?” 

I hadn’t meant for it to sound so forceful or abrupt, but it had been yet another question my sluggish brain hadn’t been able to find an answer to. 

“Mila?” He answered me, and I blinked stupidly at the name. “We had a mutual contact, figured I’d chance askin’ her instead of gettin’ lost in your DM’s. That cool? She said she’d let you know.”

The conniving cow, I thought to myself, though I wouldn’t have put it past her to have reasoned with herself that I would’ve probably freaked out if she had told me beforehand, before then having proceeded to just let my phone ring out whilst I stared pitifully at it. She knew me all too well. 

“She did not.” I replied through a baited breath, “But no, yeah. You’re alright, just caught me off guard is all. You’re probably the last person I expected to call, if I’m being honest here..”

When I heard him laugh once more I grinned, all too pleased with myself. It was a low gruff sound, not deep enough to be sarcastic or ingenuine, but rather warm. It surprised me.

“Oh yeah? Even after everything that’s gone down lately?”

My eyes slipped closed at the instantaneous reminder and I winced. The video. Honestly, in the whirlwind that wasn’t just my life at the moment, but this phone call too, I could have almost forgotten about it.

“I still can’t believe you saw that.”

Marshall let go of another amused huff that I figured to be a chuckle, breathing in deep enough that he forced me to wait on his next words. “I don’t lie. I meant what I said. But tell me, how many drinks d’you have in you?”

I curled my tongue against the back of my teeth in hopes to keep from grinning too hard, feeling a slight sting at the tip. “I was tipsy.” I argued pointlessly, knowing it would be a tireless venture, “I’d only had a couple.”

He hummed, seemingly not convinced.

“It was years ago, too!” I felt the need to tack on, the rosy hue the alcohol had given my cheeks sprung to mind and made me wonder. My face wrinkled as I dragged a helpless hand across it. “Who even sent it to you?”

“A couple people, actually.” Marshall ended up revealing and his words sounded playful enough that I could almost picture the curl of his mouth. “My daughter was one.”

Without thinking my hand flew up towards my mouth and I shook my head as I let it rest against my palm. “You’re not being serious.”

“Dre too.”

I let go of a hissed curse and crumpled a little bit in my seat before laughing stupidly at myself. If I couldn’t talk myself out of this then I supposed I would just have to get over it. I hoped thinking sensibly would allow me to actually follow through on that sentiment, but I very much doubted it.

Marshall laughed again, slow and easy almost as though he’d shared it with me a hundred times before. “I wasn’t kiddin’ neither. ’s why I called.”

Pulling my head from out of my hands, I wet my lower lip, mind promptly flashing back to the clip Lottie had shown me. “What’s that meant to mean?” I asked him, treading cautiously. 

“Listen.” He began, pausing only briefly to inhale before he then added, “I’m workin’ on another album–”

“No.” I interrupted, eyes suddenly wide and alert, “Already?”

A tittered snort followed the disruption but my mind was already reeling. 

“You’re not fucking with me?”

In all honesty I had prepared myself to wait a couple more years for another drop, hoping for him to feature or for someone to send for him if only so that he’d make a track in reply. I’d been obsessed with his recent work, even going as far as to add it onto the tour bus playlist late last year. It had actually been played so much the roadies and the band had threatened to rip the system out. But a new album? Fuck. I hadn’t expected it.

“Who else knows?”

There was a slight click on the other side of the line. Or scuffle. “As of right now? Like six people.”

I swallowed down the understanding that then hit me, but my stomach lurched at the very thought of it. “And I’m one?” I chuckled, holding back the hysterical laughter I felt bubble as my hand fell over my heart, “Wow, I feel honoured, Mathers.” It was teasing, the rib I meant, though my eyes still widened when I realised what I’d gone and said, not wanting him to take it the wrong way. 

I needn’t have worried. 

“As you fuckin’ should be.”

I gave a real laugh at that, almost a full-belly type shit. But could you really blame me? 

I was still smiling as I went to retort, humming with it, “God, you really just went and sprung that shit on me.”

“Hold you to keepin’ it on the low for now.” Marshall said, reminding me how paranoid the press and Hollywood had made him out to be in the past. I wondered how much truth there was in the sentiment. I mean, the man was almost a recluse– not that I could blame him, I was pulled from the same sort of cloth there– but to put a secret like that in my hands? It had to take some amount of faith.

I nodded seriously, even though he couldn’t see the gesture. Seemed he could hear the sincerity in my answer though, “‘Course.” I told him and then chewed on my lower lip for a second before a soft snicker escaped me. “That the only reason you called though? I mean, as honoured as I am to be one of the infamous six, I’m surprised you just phoned to let me in on the know. Have I just been roped into some sort of celeb elitist group? Weird initiation.”

His huffed laugh was breathy and made my mouth twitch that little bit more. 

“Nah. You always this weird though?” Marshall wondered and I bared my teeth in a light grimace, figuring I’d gone too far with that one. Or maybe.. I'd just hit the mark? I snorted lightly at the thought.

“It was an honest question! I’ve heard horror stories.” And wasn’t that the truth, events and parties weren’t all about the awards and just getting trollied. Some of those fuckers were as strange as people could come.

The man clucked his tongue, although I could hear the slight smile in his sarky response. “Uhuh. Sorry to disappoint but nah, initiation starts in the belly of LA. Gotta dissect a virgin and drink Ciroc out of their intestines. Funnel that shit down.”

The snort I gave in turn was ugly and loud enough that it forced a hand to fly up and cover my mouth, but it didn’t appear to bother the rapper none, who chuckled before clearing his throat.

“Change this shit to Facetime.” He said not a second after, swiftly cutting short my absurd amusement. “Then we can talk about the album.”

I fumbled for a moment. “I look a mess.”

“Good thing this ain’t a fuckin’ fashion show then.” He only pressed, “You think I give a shit what you look like right now?”

That struck an odd chord in me for some reason, but I didn’t want to linger much on the feeling. “No. But I do, dickhead. It’s half eight at night, I have sudocrem on my face and I look like a dog off of Lady and the Tramp.”

I was so flustered by the very thought of acquiescing to the man’s demand that I didn’t even think much of the name I’d gone and called him. 

“Again, do I give a shit? And what did you just call me?”

I paused, reeling back to whatever it was I’d just spouted at him. Upon rehashing my words I felt my tongue press between my lips to keep from laughing loudly, if Mila or Lottie had been there I’d already be strung up by a pair of metaphorical balls. 

“You heard me fine.” I brushed it off, if he wanted to call me out of the blue and act all chummy then chummy was what he’d get.

Besides it wasn’t like I’d meant the term maliciously, I used that type of endearment with everybody. Something my manager had tried and failed to force out of me time and time again.

“But back to this whole ‘seeing my mug thing’. Not happening, mate. Why couldn’t you have called like, six hours ago? I looked like an actual person then.”

“Dickhead.” He muttered beneath his breath, barely even loud enough for me to have heard him and I could only guess that he was shaking his head with it, hopefully somewhat amused. “You ain’t an actual person then?” He said in reply, forgoing the name calling for now, “Figures, you give off lizard vibes.”

“Fuck you!” My laugh was sudden, jaw having dropped a tad at the quip. “Lizard vibes, the fuck are you then? And yes, an actual person! You can’t just call people, drop a bomb, and then demand things!”

“Shit typically works.” He quipped all too quickly that it had me shaking my head around another quiet smile of my own. “Just entertain me though, for a moment.”

My head fell back against the arm of the sofa, eyes casted towards the high ceiling which loomed above. I couldn’t quite believe I was actually considering it.

He didn’t even have to goad me before I relented. I huffed, blowing a strand of hair from out of my face as I sat back up, “Fine. Just gimme a sec.” 

He hummed.

Elbowing my way off the settee I skidded over to the closest mirror, dragged a hand through my mostly dried hair and made sure that I didn’t have racoon eyes from any lingering mascara I’d had on before my shower. The patches of sudocrem would have to stay though, I deemed, seeing as he already knew about those. 

I gave up on the preening and sighed as I fell back onto the sofa, thankful for the dim lights the living room offered in that moment. It was just as I was switching the call though that a thought hit me, making me question if the reason he’d asked me to start the Facetime was due to him wanting to give me the option to turn it down or simply because he had no idea how to do it himself. “Still there, old man?”

A scoff echoed into the room before my phone screen stuttered and I was left staring at the sharp lines of his face. It wasn’t like I hadn’t actually believed it was him I was talking to, but seeing the man was another thing altogether. He was a real person and that idea alone had me reeling. 

I wrinkled my nose almost shyly around a smile when that sharp gaze of his slid away from something behind the camera to meet mine. He tilted his head to look me over, the hood of his jumper moving with the motion. 

“I was right about the lizard thing.” Was the only greeting he offered me, jutting his chin out as he feigned all seriousness. 

My mouth dropped open upon hearing him and my tongue quickly flicked out towards a canine to keep from biting back at him. There was humour written in the gesture though, even as I moved to narrow my eyes. “He’s got jokes! Reused ones, I might add, but jokes nonetheless.” I snarked, lifting my eyebrows at him in exaggeration, “Hilarious.”

His mouth curled very, very briefly, but I was quick to work out that it was all in the eyes with him. They held a certain amount of mirth as they flickered over my face. I wondered what he saw. 

“Suits you though. Even with all the…” He waved a hand over his own face, probably referencing the white dots I had littered in a few places.

With a shake of my head I raised a hand to my chest, feigning a fond appreciation for the sardonic comment. “Is that the famous charm the world’s heard so much about then? Really know how to make a girl feel special, Mathers.”

His eyes slitted but still shone with a slight glaze, he hummed deeply in retort. “Best believe it. Why d’you think I’ve gotten divorced twice?”

A low whistle escaped me before I then laughed, eyes squinting with the strength of it. “Figured you might just have a kink for courtrooms.” 

His tongue swept into his cheek at my boldness, fighting back a real smile as he glanced away and then back again. “I’m down bad for a good Judge. Spank me vibes, you know?”

I chuckled outwardly at that, amused by his quick witted replies. But that in itself didn’t surprise me, it was well known just how hilarious the man could be, his stoic demeanour only prodding that revelation further. 

That sternness his face seemed to consistently hold softened though in that next moment and I watched on as he shuffled a little closer to the camera, sat somewhere indoors with enough natural light that he could have only been in his kitchen. It hit me then how wild this whole thing suddenly was. “What’s with the last name anyway?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his ask. “Um,” I fumbled, a slight wrinkle forming between my brow, “What do you mean, me calling you Mathers?”

He hummed and I had to think about it for a second. Ultimately I ended up gifting him a shrug, “Don’t know. Just feels strange to call you Eminem or whatever.” I laughed lightly at myself, hand falling to my knee to toy with a loose thread on the hem of my robe. “What do people usually call you?”

It was his turn to shrug then, his being a singular and fluid motion whereas mine had been more thoughtless. He was watching again though, the wide eyes I was so used to seeing in old interviews where he was always playing a part were now gentler, narrowed sure, but softer and slightly wrinkled at the very edges.

I tugged on the frayed thread, wrapping it around my finger enough to whiten the skin before I had to let it go again. “Is Em okay? Or just Marshall maybe?” I queried, watching him too.

“Whatever you want.” He murmured and it was then that I noticed he’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of him because a pair of hands came to rest at the bottom of the screen just as he pressed further into the counter he was sat at.

I wrung my lips to one side, teeth biting into the inside of my cheek enough to keep from smiling much more than I already was. “Most people call me El or Lia. Elia just started to feel unnatural away from, you know, everyone else.”

It was the worlds now, as well as one of few reasons I had for the stigma I felt around my own name. 

The man jerked his head in a short nod in response whilst his fingers intertwined against a marble countertop. “So we should just slide that into the writin’ credits then? Or you finally gone take me up on that offer of a feature?”

You know that odd feeling you get when you’re on the tube or a plane and so suddenly your ears just pop and there's this ringing sound that floods the single sense? It just happens, out of nowhere, and you blink. So all you can immediately focus on is the sound. The odd feeling of it driving waves deeper and deeper into your skull. And the only way you can recover is by holding your own breath?

That was what that question felt like to me. 

“What?”

His eyes were alight, akin to a low flame of flickering amusement and perhaps hope. “You deaf now too? Know you heard me.”

Of course I fucking heard him but that didn’t mean I understood. “This is for real?”

Finally, he let go of a dulcet chuckle, almost a ringing sound in and of itself. “You gone make me repeat it? You in, or not?”

“How is that even a question?” I breathed back to him, my hand shaking against the hem of my robe. “Yes! God, if I ever say to no to an ask like that you better fucking shoot me. What the fuck, Marshall?”

That chuckle again.

It was unlike anything else, the only sound I could hear around the blood rushing between my ears. Stupidly, I pinched my thigh and released a stuttered breath when the twist of skin radiated a short snap of pain up my leg.

“That the go ahead then?”

I must’ve looked so incredibly starstruck but I couldn’t even bring myself to care, this was unreal. I nodded, almost frantically at him. “Of course that’s the fucking go ahead! Are you sure about this? I mean, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I mostly write radio shit.”

“Your earlier stuff ain’t.” Em shot back, the quip startling me enough to snap my jaw shut because not a lot of people ever dug that deep. But he continued on before I could think to hone in on the slip, “‘sides, your lyrics are what I fuck with. That shit makes you think, has you lingerin’. Playing with words is the aim, I want people thinkin’, leachin’ onto each syllable and every phrase. You do that.”

The air in my lungs lurched.

I could only offer him one reply, “When do we start?”

[sophieinwonderland]

The hatesub r/systemscringe are being full-on transphobes again!

Reminder: a huge number of systems have alters and headmates with completely different genders and sexes from the body.

Anyone who has ever studied any type of multiplicity is aware of this fact.

And not-so-shockingly, this makes gender complicated.

Let's just see the screenshots they're angry at today.

So the body has transitioned to male but this one headmate identifies as female and identifies as a trans woman.

In another screenshot, the system says they aren't "invading trans spaces." Which is such an absurd thing to have to defend yourselves from accusations of when you're a part of a trans system.

Even if you do take the position that spaces for transwomen should be exclusionary AFAB people, one would at least expect the male headmates to be able to feel safe in the trans community without being made to feel like they're "invaders."

Unfortunately, many pluralphobes and queer exclusionists have decided the gender identity of headmates in systems is less valid than that of singlets.

This is another pretty common thing. Especially with introjects who have source memories. It's common to have memories of lives you may not have actually lived but still feel pretty real.

I did a Tumblr poll last year. About half of systems responding had at least one trans headmate with the same gender as the body's AGAB. Nearly all had cis headmates with the opposite gender of the body.

Of course, if you heard it from r/systemscringe, they must be faking being trans entirely!

And takes like this throw not just systems under the bus, but also people who are genderfluid or otherwise nonbinary as well.

And if you're thinking, "wow, that comment sounds like something truscum would say," you aren't wrong!

Here are some unrelated posts this same user has authored:

Back to r/systemscringe, most of the comments were more of the same, stopping just short of calling them transtrenders but clearly very much wanting to!

By the way, all the censors on the names of the system and alters were mine. u/superthrowawayEEE censored nothing. When a user points this out, moderator u/DizkoLites says they considered taking it down but chose not to, saying their name was common enough that it wouldn't matter.

To be fair, the mods did end up taking it down... after the system got harassed for their gender and contacted the subreddit directly.

So congrats on waiting until after the harassment to enforce your own rules!

But don't worry, you're free to make a brand new post mocking someone for their gender identity! r/systemscringe's mod team is totally cool with that! Just gotta hide the name because that's apparently the only problem here!🙄

(You know, unless they're on the mod-approved hit list. Then you can name them too no matter how much harassment they get.)

The other day, someone asked this question on the hatesub:

Here's the answer:

Stop being bigots.

Stop being ableists.

Stop spreading misinformation.

Stop mocking people for their genders.

Stop harboring truscum and parroting transphobic talking points!

Try to be decent human beings for once in your lives!

And then... well, I guess that wouldn't leave much of a subreddit would it? There's no r/systemscringe without ableism, transphobia and queer exclusionism. It's baked into the DNA of these groups.

But maybe that would be for the best.

Nothing from these cringe communities is salvageable. And nothing should be socially acceptable about groups founded on cyberbullying.

[abbythewritor]

"Fairness." One Piece x Saitama reader, eleven.

"Just a Normal girl looking for an everyday life. At least, if you call sailing across the seas with idiots with useless dreams a simple task, then you might wanna see a doctor. Seriously."

Warnings: Blood, gore, mentions of Luekimia, and heaps amount of blood and strength. It might be a little cursing, but not bad, and maybe some flirting in there, but it's mostly clean.

Other things:

-You didn't get bald due to your powers; you got bald to an extreme illness.

-You part of the straw hat crew, but others are interested in you and your power.

-Everyone that is a male is taller than you.

-Monsters from the OPM world will appear in One Piece, and I'll make some new monsters you will fight.

Enjoy the eleventh chapter everyone :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"BIG SIS!!!!"

Well, we made it to Hancocks ship, as two beautiful women, and more women, hopped off her ship, onto the heart pirates ship, as they happily greeted her thankful she returned safely.

While that was happening, Ivankov and her crew were about to leave, as she trusted Jimbei, Ace, and Luffy to stick with me, as well as Crocodile. "Now! I trust you four with her, you all don't mind if I leave things to you?!" Her question made Jimbei nod. "No...it is fine. I can't swim yet anyway. The least I can do is stay here until she gets well." Crocodile nodded in agreement, leaning against the rail. "I owe her a favor..." Ace smiled. "Same here! She saved my life, I need to thank her in person." Luffy chuckled. "She needs to Join my crew!" The three looked to her, as crocodile scoffed. "What makes you think she'd join you, brat...?" Luffy whipped to him. "BECAUSE SHE'S MY FRIEND THAT'S WHY!" Crocodile cringed. "That's not how you belive she'd join you, just because she's your friend." "SHUT UP LEATHER PURSE! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" "What did you call me?!" "You heard me!! She will join my crew!!!" Ivankov chuckled at the sight of the two arguing, as Ace crossed his arms. "That's my brother for you, though, I won't go against him though, Y/n-san is pretty powerful, she seems fit for Luffy's crew." Jimbei nodded. "Indeed, it's going to be interesting how things play out. Ivankov...Ace....since we all were locked in the most brutal prison in the world...without her, all of us wouldn't have met each other....or to Save you.." Ace chuckled, as Ivankov smiled. "Your quite right, Jimbie, both of us tried our best to keep up with Luffy and Y/n-girl at Marineford, didn't we? It's hard to say goodbye to you both..but I have sweet candies waiting for me to come back to the kingdom....." She started to tear up. "Please take good care of Y/n-girl!!" Jimbei nodded, as well as Ace, accepting her plea, as the Marine ship sale went down, as Ivankov crew setted sail, as both parties said their goodbyes, the others headed to the Miaden Island, Amazon lilly which was home to Boa, the female only empire where men are prohibited.

Theirs also tribes of femal fighters that lives there as well, known as Kuja, as the ship aproached two large doors, which opened.

Behind it, many females living on the island greeted the snake princes back home.

Others were hesitant as they saw men on the ship, but stopped when they met Luffy, as Boa told them they were not the enemy. "A female who battled with Luffy is on that ship! She suffered greatly, mentally, and physically during the battle at Marineford, and she's hanging between life and death now." The females eyes widened with her statement as she turned to them. "Ladies, Carry Y/n to the Kuja Castle as soon as possible!" "Hold on Hancock!!!" She paused when looking to an older lady. "It's fine if it's just the lady. But we can't allow those men on that strange ship to step foot onto the Maiden Island. It's against our country's policy!" Her words made Boa's brows furrow. "Then at least let the doctor on to help her-" "No!" The granny interupted. "We can't allow any men to come onto the island, even if he is a doctor! We have so many good doctors on this island!" She spoke, as Law leaned against his ship wall, holding a blank face. "Well, I don't care either way, but..do you have the same medical equipmen and technology as my ship?" He asked, glaring to the old lady, who was iritated with his statement, which was true as he continued. "If her wounds open up, she is going to die.." He stated, Hancocks eyes widened as a smirk formed onto his lips. "Take her, if you don't care about it." He finsihed, as Jimbei stepped forwards. "It's obvious that we can't save Y/n-san without this man. If he can't come in, we have no choice. We must go somewhere else." He spoke, as Boa clenched her fists. "Impossible! We'd be attacked by the Sea Kings! Even if we get awa from them, the Navy could find us at anytime!" The granny sighed. "Oh well...we only do it as an exception but...you can stay in the area of th bay. The Sea Kings won't attack you there." Everyone was greatful for her kindeness, as the submarine took action to that area, the ladies of the island wishing my health will go well.

Though, with all the waiting and time, two weeks have passed, as I was still not awake, as Law had been treating me, while Ace, Crocodile, and Luffy never left, as everyone stayed at the bay side.

"How much longer do we have to stay in such a small space..." Someone spoke. "Yeah, the only thing to look forward to is...-"

"Guys! Sorry to keep you waiting! It's meal time!" The polar bear, and the three men who were playing cards smiled, as the women working with Boa brought baskets of food, veggies, and stuff to eat.

Luffy's eyes had stars, drool escaping his mouth, as Ace chuckled, a smile onto his face. "Guess we don't have to worry about starving anymore." Crocodile took a cigar out of his mouth. "We wouldn't starve anyway if we hadn't stayed here.."

Everyone started to get food, as Law and crocodile weren't hungry, a sboth of them were leaning against the tree, as a blonde women walked up to them. "Excuse me.." Law looked up at her. "Is she awake..yet?" His head shook. "I see." she spoke. "It's up to Y/n-ya's spirit." Law spoke, looking up at her. "Whether she's willing to live or not." He finished, leaving thoughts in her head, as one of her allies called her, as she left to go help.

But, as things were starting to calm down, my eyes shot open, rememebring the events of whitebead getting shot down by black beard, as well as Akainu trying to hurt ace and Luffy, Mihawk fighitng me, as well as the dead bodies of pirates caused by mariens.

All of those memories flooded in my head, sweat dripping from my forhead.

I looked down, seeing wires hooked up to me, just like when I was little as it brought tragic memories, as my breaths started to quicken.

The wires...the postion...the saem feeling long ago...I didn't like it...I didn't like it at all...I needed to get out of her...

I let out a painful scream, ripping the wires off of me as it alerted people outside, as the gorund then rumbled, an explosion happening inside the ship.

Smoke arose in the medical area, some of Laws crew, trying to get me to lay back down as I slowly walked passed them. "Lady! Lay back down! Unless you want to drestroy the ship!!" My breaths were heavy, my head simply turning as my blank, emotionless eyes looked to them, which sended shivers down their spines. "P-Pops..." I mumbled...remembering whitebeards death clearly, as outside, Ace, Law, and Jimbei ran forwards to the ship, before the roof of the submarine broke open, as I came out of it, landing behind them harshly, the ground shaking.

This shocked everyone, even crocodile, who looked at me with wide eyes, mixed with worry, as I tried to sit back up, but I still was in utter pain, my hands gripping the grass below me, my nails digging into the dirt.

"P-Pops..." I brokenly spoke...my eyes white, as I repeated it multiple times. Ace, underatnding how I felt as he took a step forwards, his face lined with remorse and sadness for me, until he saw me sat up, looking to the sky. "WHERE IS WHITEBEARD?!" I screamed, worry, sadness, and anger hitting my voice.

Tears were streaming down my face, as I started to bolt, looking for the man to see if he was alright, as I was unable to save him back at marineford.

But, to my knowledge, he was dead, as Luffy and lawd crew were trying to stop me, as Law, Ace, Jimbei, and Crocodile were sitting in a circle, just watching. "What happens if we leave her like this..?" Jimbei asked, as Lawy sighed. "It's simple. Like I said when we got here, if her wounds open up, she will die." Crocodile scoffed. "Easy for you to say when she has the energy of the rubber brat...." The four looked to me, tripping on a rock, as the crew and Luffy saw the chance to hold me down, as I struggled with their grip. "Let me go!! I need to get to the old man! He needs medical attention!" I screamed, Luffy still trying to hold me down. "Y/n-san! Please calm down!" "NO! Let me go Luffy!" I yelled, as the crew still were trying to hold me down. "Shut up! I'm looking for pops!" I yelled, as one of Laws crew members spoke. "I told you that White beard is-" "I SAID.." All of them scattered, even Luffy as I threw them off of me. "LET ME GO!" I bolted from them, as I headed more deep in the forest, as I wanted to look for whtiebeard, as Crocodile got up from his spot, before Ace stopped him. "Let me talk to her..." Crocodile glared down at him. "Why should I let you to that...?" Ace looked to the warlord. "Because her and I lost the same person we care about..." Crocodile understood, as he couldn't argue with his comment, as he simply sat back down, as Ace walked in the direction I was heading, as his ears could hear the trees getting destroyed by my anger.

My fists were bleeding, my breaths broken and raspy, my eyes shaking as I looked straight at the ground, but I realised, that I wasn't at marineford when I noticed the grass, as I looked up to brids flying over my head, and the blue sky. "W-Where am I?" I asked, wondering if it was all a dream...as I kept looking at the sky, as my memoires were still coming back to me, as whitebeard did die of black beards hands, as well as many other pirates dying by the head of marines, even a giant Orc that Ace cared about.

All the information made me clutch the sides of my face, my knees giving out as I started to whale, and cry, now knowing that whitebeard is truly dead.

Ace saw this, as he rushed, his eyes widened, as he caught me in his arms, his knees hitting the grass as all he could do was wrapp his arms around me as I cried.

"Y/n...." He spoke...as with all my pent up emoitions inside of me...I just cried into him, not wanting to even speak at all.

"The war is over.." He whispered. "Pops is..." "DON'T SAY THAT!" I snapped, my face looking up to him, as my eyes were red and puffy, which made his heart hurt. "Don't say anything!" I pleaded. "I already pinched myself hard enough to rip my skin! If it were a dream, I should've woken by now!" I continued, Ace's eyebrows furrowing more, as he listened to me, as closed my eyes, looking down. "I-It's not a dream, isn't it...? I-I wasn't able to....." Ace's grip on me tightened, his teeth gritting with sadnes as slight tears escaped his eyes as well. "Y-Yes...Cutie....p-pops...is dead.." His truthful words struck my heart harshly more, as tears continued to poor, as I clutched onto him more and more.

I stayed like that for a couple of minutes, Ace crying with me as well, as he knew whitebeard basically his whole life, as he understood how I was feeling. "I...I coudln't save him...I-I-I was suppose to be a hero...a hero w-who brings fairness to everyone...b-but I couldn't save h-him...I-I-I'm so weak...!" I sobbed, my confession making Ace's eyes widened with shock, as his grip around me tightened more, as he brought me even closert to him. "Cutie..." "A-Ace...p-please leave me be...! Go to the others..!" He sighed with my request. "I can't..I can't just watch you hurt yourself anymore..." My face grew frustraited as I looked up at him. "It's my body! Why does it matter to you-" "Then you can't blame Whitebeard for doing what he did! It wasn't your fault that he was Killed, he was killed by teaches hands! His death was nothing of your buisness!" My teeth gritted, as I gripped his shoulders.

"Shut up! It was fully my buisness! I was fighting in that War as well, and I promised him that he and I will both save you together, with no death's at all!" He cupped my face. "That's a stupid promise Y/n!" He gently spoke. "War isn't kittens and rainbows, you can't expect evberyone to live! That's not how life works! Someone had to make a sacrafice, somepeople had to die...! I know ho wyour feeling, I know what your goign through because Pops was an actually father to me!" His confession made my teeth grit, as I closed my eyes. "So don't you dare say it's your fault he died, because me and I both know it wasn't, it was supposed to be me who was supposed to die, not him!" My eyes shot open with his statement, as I looked to him with furrowed eyebrows. "A-Ace-" "It's true! I was meant to be executed! But, now do you see!? Things are more clear for you now, you belvied that you can bring fairness to everyone, that you could overcome anything just like Luffy. Althoguht you never doubted your strength, you still had a kind heart for people, no matter if marines or pirates! But all those formidable enemies you faced, all of those words from Blackbeard, your confidence was slipped away, all because your motion was to become the greatest hero, which was your guid to life!" His words made my fist clench, as he whipped some continuing falling tears from my eyes, as his forhead leaned gently against my own. "I know you have lost a lot...and the toughest enemies in the world blocked your way time after time...but you'll never find your true self like this...if your lost in full regret and guilt.....I know that it's painful now, Cutie, but you have to bottle up those feelings! Don't just think about the ones you've lost, when you can make new memoroeis with new people you have met!" My eyes widened from his words, as my body stopped, realisation hit me as I rememebred Luffy's words back on that Marine ship.

"Well if you decided to stay, wanna join my crew?" I gasped, before standing up. "L-Luffy!" More tears pooled out of my eyes, as I still had my answer to tell him.

I finally understand what I want to do in my life, as all of the past that happened to me, the war, my cancer, Saitama and pops death...everything that could bring me back down...didn't matter, as new doors were opened for me, as I had an oppourtunity to grow.

Looking up at Ace, I clutched to him again. "W-Were's Luffy?! I-I need to see him, I need to give him an answer, I-I-" Ace smiled, knowing what I'm talking about as his hand reached out to me. Without hesitation, I grabbed it as he helped me to my feet. Hugging him, my eyes closed “Thank you…” I whispered, as he hugged me back. “Of course… let’s get back to everyone else..” nodding we headed back as quickly as possible as my eyes looked to the sky, slightly smiling as I finally knew the truth.

Even through the hard times, with white-beards death, Saitama…my cancer…and life in general…I gave to push forwards, forget about the past and grow stronger and better mentally.

Because even though I was trapped and corrupted, now I found people who freed me, and will never leave my side…and I must do the same, even if I don’t leave this world.

As everyone near the ship was talking, Luffy saw me and Ace instantly, as he hopped up, smiling and running to me. “Y/n!” I smiled to, leaving Ace and running to him as well. “Luffy!” We both hugged each other, his arms going around my waist as he spin me around. Hugging me more, his hands grasped the side of my face as his forehead leaned against mine. “Your ok..your really ok..I was so worried you’d hurt yourself...or something worse..” He told me, as his voice was slightly cracked. I gently smiled, and adjusted his hat. “How could I let myself go down when I need to join your crew?” He was confused with your words at first, not believing them as his eyes widened. “C-Come again?” I giggled from his words” The whole time we were at marine ford..when you asked me that question on that marine ship, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I realized when I was kicking the shit out of those trees, I might not be able to go back to my world and to be honest, I don’t ever want to go back….this world here, I’ve never experienced so much excitement in my life. I can fight things without killing it with one punch, I-I can fit in as this world doesn’t care about what others look like, I have already made so many friends…” I look to everyone, as they all looked to me, as I looked back at Luffy, smiling more. “Even you…you’ve been by my side since stout saved me from that Jail, you never judge of what I do, say or how I fight, you know how to get a problem done and fix it, and you care for others. In my eyes, that is a wonderful captain who’s crew I’d love to join…” he smiled from my words, his heart racing as he let out a shaky sigh, as he didn’t know what to say at all. “I-I- Y/n-San you don’t know how much that means to me…you’d be a great fit for my crew, and I don’t care if your weak, tall, tiny, fat, skinny, with hair, or bald, I just know that I want to give you the same fairness as you did to me…and also give you the adventures, excitement, and fun you wanted your whole life because no person deserves to go through what you’ve been through. So yes, you are now apart of my crew, and I promise Y/n, I will not fail you as a friend, and as a captain…”

Smiling, I gently grasped his hands, as I looked straight into Luffy’s eyes. “I know Luffy….”

Leaning my forehead against his, my eyes closed as the wind blew on us both, creating a calm atmosphere.

“I have pure faith in you…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author: YAY! Back to back upload!

Author: things are heating up! I wonder what life for Y/n will be in the future! Only one way to find out!

Author: I hope you enjoyed todays chapter! And This is the final chapter of the Marine ford arch, and the book is only just getting started!

Author: please don’t forget about the fan art contest! The pictures you send me will be judged by the end of October! The winner will get to decide a special chapter of their request for me to write!! Anyways, I have work to do still so I will see you all later!!

Author: BYE LOVELIES!!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Thomas Chatterton Williams

Published: May 19, 2024

We’d gathered that day at the cafeteria’s “Black” table, cracking jokes and philosophizing during the free period that was our perk as upperclassmen. We came in different shades: bone white, tan and brownish, dark as a silhouette. One of my classmates, who fancied himself a lyricist, was insisting that Redman, a witty emcee from nearby Newark, New Jersey, was the greatest rapper ever. This was the late ’90s, and for my money, no one could compete with Jay-Z. I said so, and the debate, good-natured at first, soon escalated in intensity, touching on feelings and resentments that ran far deeper than diverging claims about artistic merit.

“How can you even weigh in?” I still remember the kid fuming. “You ain’t even the pure breed!”

With that, there was nothing left to say. Friends separated us, the bell rang, and I headed home. A short time later, I went off to college, where I would meet a wider assortment of Americans than I had realized existed. But over the years, I have been reminded of that boy’s slicing racism, the lazy habit of mind that required no white people to be present but would nonetheless please the most virulent white supremacist.

Recently, two public controversies spirited me back to the suspicion and confusion of my high-school cafeteria. All spring long, an unusually nasty feud between the rappers Drake and Kendrick Lamar has been captivating audiences, both for the quality of the music it has engendered and for the personal and malicious dimensions of the attacks it has countenanced. Much has been written about the fight, in particular about the two men’s treatment of women, which I won’t rehash here except to point out that it’s a little funny that they both portray themselves as enlightened allies while also acting as if the ultimate disparagement is to call another man feminine. Less has been said about the potency of the racial dimension, which feels like a throwback to a time before Drake’s pop-culture dominance—indeed, to a time before the historic hybridity of the Obama era—and like a distillation of the skin-deep racialism of the current social-justice movement.

Drake, who grew up in Toronto, is the son of a white Jewish mother from Canada and a Black father from Memphis. Since the release of his 2009 mixtape, So Far Gone, he has been not only the most successful visibly mixed-race rapper—and arguably pop star—but also the most visible Black male musician for some time now. Anyone at the top will attract criticism. But not even a white rapper like Eminem has been subject to the kind of racial derogation that has been hurled at Drake.

Back in 2018, the rapper Pusha T released a diss track about him for which the cover art was an old photograph of Drake performing in a cartoonish blackface. The image makes you cringe, but—as Drake explained—that was the point. Drake began his career as an actor, and he wrote that the photograph was part of a “project that was about young black actors struggling to get roles, being stereotyped and typecast … The photos represented how African Americans were once wrongfully portrayed in entertainment.” But presented without context, it appeared to be a self-evident statement of inauthenticity.

Another rapper, Rick Ross, calls Drake “white boy” again and again in his song “Champagne Moments,” released in April. In an op-ed for The Grio, the music journalist Touré explains why the insult is so effective: “We know Drake is biracial. He’s never hidden that, but many of us think of him as Black or at least as a part of the culture … On this record, Ross is out to change that.” Touré calls this “hyperproblematic,” but his tone is approving—he admires the track. “We shouldn’t be excluding biracial people from the Black community, but in a rap beef where all is fair as a way of attacking someone and undermining their credibility and their identity, it’s a powerful message.”

In a series of more high-profile records, Lamar has built on Ross’s theme, both implying and stating directly that racial categories are real, that behaviors and circumstances (like Drake’s suburban upbringing) correlate with race, and that the very mixedness of Drake’s background renders him suspect. It is an anachronistic line of ad hominem attack that is depressing to encounter a quarter of the way into the 21st century.

Lamar’s most recent Drake diss is called “Not Like Us,” and reached No. 1 on Billboard Hot 100. It goes after Drake’s cultural affiliations with the American South. “No, you not a colleague,” Lamar taunts. “You a fucking colonizer!”

It’s hard to hear that and not remember that Drake’s mother is Jewish, and that this is the same invective used to undermine Jews’ sense of belonging in Israel. Such racist habits of thought have become potent rhetorical weapons in the progressive arsenal.

The second (if smaller) controversy followed an essay on language and protest published in The New Yorker earlier this month. The novelist Zadie Smith, who is of European and African descent, argued—carefully—that it is too simplistic to regard the world as sortable into categories of oppressor and oppressed. “Practicing our ethics in the real world involves a constant testing of them,” she writes, “a recognition that our zones of ethical interest have no fixed boundaries and may need to widen and shrink moment by moment as the situation demands.” This was an attempt to take seriously the tangible fate of Hamas’s victims on October 7, the broader implications of anti-Semitism that can at times be found in criticism of Israel’s response, and the ongoing tragic loss of Palestinian life.

Despite praising the protests that have engulfed college campuses and describing a cease-fire in Gaza as “an ethical necessity,” Smith was derided on more than intellectual grounds. One widely shared tweet, accompanied by a photo of Smith, stated the criticism plainly: “I feel like Zadie Smith uses black aesthetics to conceal her deeply pedestrian white middle-class politics. People see the head wrap and the earrings made of kente cloth and confuse that for something more substantive.”

This was not the first time Smith had been regarded as a racial interloper. The author Morgan Jerkins once wrote of the emotional “hurt” she felt reading another thoughtful essay Smith published in Harper’s asking “Who owns black pain?” Smith’s transgression here, according to Jerkins, was “intellectualizing blackness” from a distance instead of feeling it. “Do not be surprised,” Jerkins warned, “if a chunk of that essay is used in discussions as to why biracial people need to take a backseat in the movement.”

The retrograde notion that thought and action necessarily flow from racial identities whose borders are definable and whose authority is heritable is both fictitious and counterproductive. “Something is afoot that is the business of every citizen who thought that the racist concepts of a century ago were gone­—and good riddance!” Barbara and Karen Fields write in their 2012 masterpiece, Racecraft: The Soul of Inequality in American Life. “The continued vitality of those concepts stands as a reminder that, however important a historical watershed the election of an African-American president may be, America’s post-racial era has not been born.”

Of course, the first African American president was, like our nation and culture, himself both Black and white. One of the most disappointing—and, I have come to realize—enduring reasons the “post-racial era” continues to elude us is that it is not only the avowed racists who would hold that biographical fact against him.

==

This is why we call it neoracism, not "antiracism."

[charryflavoredblood]

Hi! Can I plz ask for a Komegi fic? I was thinking maybe the two are having a relaxing time in the bath together. Nothing sexual, it’s just intimate. Maybe Nagito’s went into one of his manic downward spirals so to comfort him Makoto washing Nagito’s hair to help the other man relaxed.

Yes. I love you thank you. I love you. Komaeda is what I live for. I think I lost the plot somewhere along the way but just know, it was in mind and I will rewrite it if you don't like it!!

TW: Existentialism, potential disassociation trigger.

“Makoto-”

Nagito calls out to his boyfriend.  

“Wait okay, do you want peach or the rosemary pomegranate one?”

Naegi grabbed the two bottles of shampoo. (The same ones that Komaeda had bought for him after he found out that the other was using…head and shoulder. And Makoto said that he needed to show himself more respect.)

“Those are yours-” “If I mix them, it won’t cause mustard gas, right? I played potions when I was little, it’ll be fine.” Makoto questioned, talking to no one but himself. He gently kneeled down on his partner’s- no, his bathroom floor.

After Nagito’s most recent breakdown, the pair had decided Makoto should move into Nagito's home. The pair being Makoto and Komaeda’s therapist, of course. Komaeda had insisted that Makoto deserved to be in a far nicer, far bigger and far warmer home.The younger man still lived with his sister and her wife. Anywhere was warmer than that apartment. Plus, Komaeda was loaded. He was basically Togami without legal limits.

Not that he only liked his boyfriend for his money! He adored him for his sense of humor, his kindness, his intelligence and most of all his passion! 

“Hey Makoto?” “Huh?”

Komaeda snapped him out of his train of thought, which was more than welcome. Any real Komaeda was better than the best imaginary Komaeda.

“I was thinking last night. Why is living so hard? Why must we be given false good days only to fall deeper into despair with so many terrible bad days? It truly makes me wonder what the point of it all is. Why must we feel despair…? Why is hope so temporary while despair is forever. They’re considered opposites. Why is one so much more powerful?”

Normally this would’ve caught Makoto off guard…but he was dealing with Nagito and he knew the other better than most things.

“Gee, that’s pretty philosophical, huh?” He responded, pumping the shampoo on his hands.

The brunette hummed in thought as he lathered the shampoo up, moving to his boyfriend’s hair.

“If every day was great, would it still be great or would it be a normal day? If we didn’t overcome hardship, wouldn’t that make us lumps of…something. I don’t know, I failed science. Despair doesn’t extinguish hope…just like hope doesn’t extinguish despair. When someone is at a fair, they could look at a ferris wheel and say “I won’t get on that because there is a 2.5% chance of it crashing.” On the other hand, someone could’ve just gotten into a ferris wheel crash, they could say “I’m alright. I made it. I survived.” You know?” Komaeda thought of a rebuttal before letting it go. 

Makoto rubbed the shampoo into the white hair and continued.

“We can worry about things like that, we can worry about each other getting hurt, or we can enjoy our time together and cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Nagito nodded and leaned in for a kiss, only to be met with fingers against his lips.

“Sorry…I don’t like the taste of shampoo.”

“Never thought you were one of those. I suppose you’re going to make me shower before we-”

“No! I didn’t mean that! I just-”

“I’m messing with you, Makoto.”

“...I still don’t like the taste of shampoo.”

“Who does?” I loved writing this. Ily all, drink water. Don't die. Dying if dehydration when you can help it is cringe. Ily again. K bye.

[snickerzanddoodlez]

HELLO, TUMBLR!

SnickerDoodlez | She / Her | 16

Nice to meet y’all! You can call me any variation of my username! I’m the director of Wordgirl: Rewired, the unofficial fan reboot! (This isn’t just a pipe-dream project- we have already released a few ten-minute episodes!) If that interests you even at all, check ‘em out! And by the way, applications are open!

My other main blogs are @my-silly-little-guys and @crown-of-roses-thsc, for OCs and my Henry Stickmin AU comic respectively! My newest main is @the-only-teruteru-fan, which…tells you all you need to know-

My main socials are Tumblr, Toyhou.se, and YouTube! I also take commissions!

SOME THINGS TO KNOW ABOUT ME

1. I try to avoid venting on this blog, so don’t worry about that! It will happen from time to time- a teenager with depression, who woulda guessed?- but I try to keep it private! If I do vent, it’s usually just through passing jokes, angsty art, a short post, or words of encouragement I wish I’d heard!

3. My rules and boundaries are few- just keep in mind that I am 16!

4. I’m a huge advocate for cringe! Create that Mary Sue! Be the next Ebony Darkness Dimentia Raven Way! I encourage it! I’ve obsessed over my fair share of Danganronpa characters- who am I to judge?

5. Do not spread hate. While I do think that everyone has a right to express their opinions or beliefs, I do not want anything to do with people who advocate for zoophilia, racism, pedophilia, etc.

6. I’m a Christian, but I don’t often post about it- my relationship with God is between Him and me! However, please don’t let this be a turn-off for you- though you’ve no doubt heard many stereotypes, I do not associate myself with Christians that are hateful or cruel…that’s not following God’s teachings.

7. l ask that current events are discussed elsewhere, as for me and many others, these blogs are places to escape reality. As well as this, please do not message me or send me asks pertaining to charities and seeking donations- though I wish those who truly need it help and support, this just isn't a place for it.

8. I am perfectly okay with people monetizing content pertaining to my creations, so long as the content itself is their own work! As well as this, I’m okay with people translating my work or making creative interpretations!

9. Please send me asks! Please! | need! Social interaction! And to talk about! My OCs! PLEASE TAG ME. IF YOU'RE DEBATING WHETHER YOU SHOULD OR SHOULDN'T, THAT MEANS YOU SHOULD. Although just a warning, I’m not always a fan of tag games! (Basically, I’d say- if you’re tagging me because you specifically thought of me, thought I’d be interested, or the post is about me in any way, please tag me! If you’re tagging me just because I’m a mutual and it isn’t something that I need to see, then I’m going to be less keen. But hey, I don’t really mind!)

10. Reach out to me for….whatever you want! Think I’m cool? Thanks! Got a question? Go for it! Wanna be friends? I’m flattered! I’m pretty open with things!

Oh, and my biggest fandoms right now are~

-Hidden Beneath! (Or the fandom I wish it had, haha!) @my-silly-little-guys

-The Henry Stickmin Collection @crown-of-roses-thsc

-Wordgirl

-Warrior Cats

-Danganronpa @the-only-teruteru-fan

[noisyquokka]

So Unserious

PAIRING - Kevin x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - Classic Slasher movies are so unserious…

WORDCOUNT - 1.6k

WARNINGS - Humor, Fluff, Spoilers for twenty to thirty year old slasher movies (for those of you who care about that kind of thing), some banter, established relationship, dialogue heavy

A/N - I'm curious how many of you who are into the older slasher films know which film is first mentioned. It's honestly one of my favorites, though I'm fond of all of the mentioned titles.

The two of you sit in the dark bedroom, a bowl of popcorn between you, bodies spread across the blankets that act as your "seating area." Kevin's laptop sits atop one of your pillows, its screen emitting a soft glow as a younger Ted Raimi appears.

“You think the Director just told Ted Raimi to have a good time doing most of this movie? Like 'just go nuts, buddy'?” Kevin tosses a piece of popcorn your way, missing your open mouth by mere centimeters. You take the morsel between your fingers, blinking at the laptop sitting in front of you.

“Before he was stuck with a knife in the skull? Yeah,” You pop the piece into your mouth, tilting your head toward him. “Yeah, I think they did.”

"Uh, hello!? Spoilers!?" Kevin throws his arms up, dramatic in nature.

"Oh, right. I forgot you're not a man of culture..." You bring your can of soda into view, swirling the liquid inside as if you're drinking a fine wine. Kevin chuffs a laugh, shooting you a bombastic side-eye in a way only he can. 

“I thought we were making fun of these movies, but I guess I wasn’t filled in on the added shots that would be fired my way.” He mutters, reaching over the side of the bed for the many snack bags on the floor below. Your eyes twinkle with amusement of your own, waving him off with a chuckle.

“Oh, come on! It’s a thirty year old movie."

“There are better movies than this one.” He argues, the bag in his grip squealing as he tears it open.

“Sleepaway Camp?” You offer.

“Haven’t seen it.”

Your jaw drops, tapping the spacebar on the laptop to pause the current movie. Kevin’s brows knit together as you turn to him, your hands cradling your own cheeks.

“We are watching that later, but I must warn you of the cringe you will be subjected to.”

“Sure, but can we get back to Ted and his groovin’ moves, please?” Kevin asks, unpausing the movie without an answer. You both settle back, watching as the unknown killer walks away from yet another victim all whilst Ted Raimi keeps working it.

“Alright, so far, who are we rooting for to survive?” You pop the question with such nonchalance that Kevin has to let the words register in his head.

“Bub is my kind of guy, but Ted Raimi is doing the least and if you wouldn’t have spoiled his death for me, I would’ve definitely rooted for Ted to get out alive.”

“Do you even know Ted Raimi’s character in this movie?” You arch a brow at him, popping another handful of fluffy kernels in your mouth.

“Nope, and I’m choosing to call him Ted Raimi out of spite of you spoiling this movie for me!” Kevin sticks his tongue out and you roll your eyes. As if you spoiled the entirety of the plot. He’ll never recover.

—

“What sane person is just like ‘oh, we’re selling our establishment, better kill off my business bud and then all our employees’ like this man has never had a normal conversation about his feelings in his life!?”

You’re clutching your side in uncontrollable laughter as Kevin finally gets the grand reveal of the killer, dots connected and chase scenes begin. He’s sitting beside you just going off, many strong points being made.

“To be fair, it’s the 80s. Men didn’t talk openly about their feelings back then.” You say, rolling onto your back as you catch your breath.

Kevin holds a finger up in solidarity, your lips quirking in a teasing smirk. 

“I’m trying to hand it to Blondie though, even if some of her choices are questionable right now.” You guys have been on your second bowl of popcorn, going on the third at this rate, and Kevin’s remarks are making it taste a little better with the added sprinkle of humor. You’re just basking in a good ole rewatch and reaction.

“What are these windows made of? Plexiglass?”

“Why wouldn’t she go in there, what if there’s an extra key to unlock the front doors in Danny’s desk?”

“Why the hell is a dead man’s head THE weapon!?”

“Yes, Girl, call the cops!”

“How is this man sTILL ALIVE! YOU WERE STABBED IN THE CHEST, MY GUY!”

“GET HIM CRAIG- ohhh not in between the fingers…”

As the credits roll, you watch Kevin lean forward, elbows on his knees, visibly unhappy with the ending of the movie. His head in his hands, full-on disappointment etching his features that are visible between his fingers. And you’re right beside him, hiding a smile behind thinned lips. 

“Well... I’m gonna get us a refill on popcorn and drinks.” You’re quick to slip the blanket off your legs, sliding out of bed and grabbing the empty bowl and other items around the space. There’s something muttered as you leave, but you don’t catch it. Instead you remind him he can choose the next film to watch.

By the time you’re back, drinks and fresh popcorn in hand, Kevin’s already got the next movie running. You recognize the movie score immediately.

“Friday The 13th?”

He nods, taking the bowl of popcorn you hand him.

“We get to listen to Alice run through the woods, screaming like a dumbass!”

“Yeah, just have to wait like ninety minutes into the movie.” You quip, placing the drinks on the nightstand and hopping into bed with a huff. 

“Isn’t that why we’re here? To make fun of silly slasher flicks?” Kevin questions, shooting you a look.

You pull the blanket up your legs, leaning so your head rests on Kevin’s shoulder. He tilts his head to the side, resting his temple against your skull. Your body shifts as you get comfortable.

“Perhaps.” You mutter, reaching over to grab some popcorn from the bowl, your gaze landing on the screen as the iconic theme music plays over the opening credits of the film. You sigh with exasperation as the screaming begins, the first camp counselors dying to the unseen killer.

“You can’t tell me these camps are so big that no one can hear these people screaming. Are you kidding me?”

“You’re using your brain, actually being rational. They literally talk about Jason in the second movie as if he’s the one who murdered everyone in the first one.”

“They also gave Terry that dog and she gave no shits about her own dog when it went missing. That was her dog, right?” You glance up at Kevin with furrowed brows, who just blinks.

“Yes?” He sounds unsure, himself.

“I just feel like if this happened in real life, no one would be excited to go to a camp where terrors took place. Most parents wouldn’t send their kids there.” 

“Nah, parents would send their kids anywhere for some peace and quiet.”

“Kevin!!” You scold, shifting on your side to find his brown eyes once again. He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle at the action. 

"I think it's like a right of passage or something." Kevin says with a shrug, pulling you closer as he speaks. You roll your eyes at the answer, shaking your head with a groan.

"Yeah, because it's a smart idea to send your kid to a place where they could get murdered by some random killer." You exclaim, humming an affirmative. "That sounds smart. What could possibly go wrong?" You raise an eyebrow at Kevin, the corner of your mouth turning up into a crooked grin.

Through all of your back and forth, you hadn’t realized how much time went by that you’re already to Marcie’s death scene. The camera panning to the shower curtain, fingers peeking around the flimsy material. And Marcie just looking for trouble as she searches the shower stalls thinking that her fellow counselors are pranking her.

You stifle a laugh, your tongue pressing against the roof of your mouth as she turns around to meet the killer, an ax coming down into her head as she screams.

"Oh, it's not funny!" Kevin chastises, his eyes falling back to the screen. "She can't help that she's trapped in the script."

You can't help but giggle quietly, your eyes still glued on the scene. The camera cuts to the swinging light in the showers for a moment before cutting back to the group at the cabin.

“I love how her first thought as the slasher is about to kill her is to not fight back or run, but to stand there and scream for the few moments she has to actually attempt an escape.” You say, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“What did you want her to do?” Kevin asks with a smirk. “Kick the killer in the gonads and run away?”

“That’s what I would do! A kick to the nads hurts, no matter your makeup.”

“Even Mrs. Voorhees?”

“I’m not above kicking an old woman in the hoo ha if it means I survive her crazed murder spree.” You wave a hand toward the laptop, “That’s what Alice would have done if she were smart.”

“Unfortunately that wasn’t in her script.” Kevin replies, sarcasm strong in his tone. “Nor was taking the Jeep that Mrs. Voorhees drove up in. Even with Annie’s corpse in the passenger seat, I would’ve been the hell outta there!”

“Let’s be honest, though. Betsy Palmer’s performance in this movie is and will forever be iconic.” 

You’re getting tired, Kevin notes. Your tone is lowering and you’re starting to slur your words, sagging deeper into his side as the end of the movie gets closer and closer. Still, he feels the need to ask.

“Are you up for another movie after this?” He asks, to which you click your tongue.

“Of course! My choice, cause you chose last.”

Kevin rolls his eyes, but agrees.

“Which one?”

“Killer Sofa.”

“That’s not a slasher.”

“You’re trying to tell me a couch that kills off people in a haze of passion isn’t a slasher?!”

“It’s not even a sofa, first off. It’s a recliner.”

“Do we have to be so technical? We’re watching it anyway.” Your arm juts out to close the tab you had open, searching for said movie now that Friday The 13th has ended. Kevin swats your hand away, but continues where you left off. A smile finds your lips.

“You’re too easy.” You tease.

“Yeah, yeah, Killer Sofa it is.”

SPOOKTOBER MASTERLIST

[borhaprequiem]

i'm sure a lot of people don't want to hear this but the whole "tf is inherently a fetish" mindset literally stems from the same rhetoric that's hurt other queer folk.

"being gay is a fetish." "trans women who are attracted to women just have AGP." "drag queens are inherently sexual and drag queen story times at children's libraries need to be banned." "furries just want to fuck animals." it all boils down to "if you don't do this Weird Thing in the Right Way you're a sexual degenerate." i hate using this word but i'm literally not exaggerating when i say that it's all queerphobic puritanism. they're all the great-grandchildren of "women showing more than 1 square millimeter of skin is INHERENTLY provocative"

in fact the whole "tf IS a fetish" perception sprang up around the same time as the whole "furry IS a fetish" thing since they were so closely connected. so if you think a sequence of someone turning into sonic the hedgehog is "fetish art" solely on the basis that it's Weird, then congrats! you're literally coming off the heels of right-wing 4channers and other "cringe culture" enjoyers who didn't know how to mind their own fucking business.

yeah, a lot of people are worried about fetish miners, which is a completely valid concern. but again, do you think it's fair to demonize the many people who DO enjoy the trope of transformation in a non-sexual way just to stop the comparatively low number of creeps? do you think it's fair to restrict access to HRT just because of the few people who end up deciding it's not for them? do you think it's fair to make EVERYONE use the bathroom that matches their agab out of the fear of the IDEA of a man pretending to be a trans woman to assault cis women in the bathroom? do you think that putting gay couples in children's media is "grooming kids into thinking that this TOTALLY INHERENTLY SEXUAL THING is normal, cute, and kid-friendly"?

there are always ways to hold actual predators accountable without hurting many innocent queer people in the process.

If you're one of those weirdos who think that people wanting certain queer spaces to be more accommodating for sex-repulsed folks is "puritanism" and/or calls people who are against the romanticization of sexual abuse in fiction "puritans," get the fuck off my post and my blog.

[halfadoginatank]

Robin and steve accidentally join the mafia

I couldnt stop thinking about this post by @qprstobin so wrote a lil bit based on an idea in there

It's been about two years since vecna's defeat, and after two years of some of Robin and Steves most awful jobs in chicago. One month into this one and they've finally found peace.

"Okay can we be real here?" Rob waves a slice of pizza as they sit in the store room of the warehouse-like antique shop they work at. "The boss is lovely, I mean seriously! But isn't it weird that we've met his entire family?"

Steve squints at Robin from the couch. "I don't think so? Maybe this is what, like… Italians are supposed to be like."

"Aren't you Italian?"

"Yeah but my family was fucked up. Everyone's so close with Boss it's like, a clan almost." He settles his hands on top of his chest. To be frank it's the best couch he's ever been on.

"I think it's about time we start accepting the fact that they might be like. Mafia." Steve looks at her to continue. But she's too busy eating the last of her pizza, avoiding the crust.

She finishes and hands the crust to steve.

"I mean, the store is practically empty! Barely anyone shops here!" Okay that's true, it's almost like family video but instead of stocking shelves for new movies, their boss Mr. De Luka or one of his 'cousins' will drop off something so they can slap a price tag on it and find a good place to put it.

"Mmm but why would we care? We're not doing anything wrong! Plus are you gonna look Mrs. De Luka in the eyes and say 'oh sorry ma'am' which you know she hates! And go 'we won't come to dinner tonight on account of maybe you being the Italian mob!"

Robin cringes hard. Steve huffs in victory. Mrs. De Luka was a tall and beautiful woman with angular features, a roman nose, and hair the exact same color as Steve's. She was a force to be reckoned with. She may bake some of the best cream cake but she's also steadfast and can settle a table of eight full grown men with just a slap of her hand against it.

"Ugh. That's not fair, saying no to her is impossible, she's like… so incredibly hot."

Steve scrunched up his nose. "Ew robin dont say that she's like a parental figure."

"She's more like a friend's mom!"

"Yeah! My mom!"

Robin points an accusing finger "Ahah! So you admit it. She's practically your mother!"

Steve chokes on the last bite of his pizza crust, he sits up and hammers on his chest. "Jesus Christ, no robin she's not my mother!" He coughs out

Robin throws her hands up "I didn't say that. I said practically! Hell, Angelo calls you cousin!" Steve narrows his eyes… Angelo Ricci is their boss's cousin, actual, biological cousin. Because as Steve and Robin have learned, some of the cousins or aunts or uncles are just unrelated people they call family.

"Should you be calling him by his first name? He's old enough to be your dad."

Robin actually stops and sits back in her chair. "If he was my dad that would be weird." Steve nods.

"Because of Amara?"

"Yes."

Amara Ricci… Steve can still remember the first time they met.

[-]

It had to be at least a week after they were hired. Mr. De Luka thanked them both for being great employees and asked them if they would have dinner with his family. Mr. De Luka wasn't like Keith, and neither was his store. It seemed genuinely family owned, and Mr. De Luka himself was much kinder, and seemed to actually care. Which was novel considering their last boss told one of them if one of them got killed during a stick up, to not sue him because 'he warned us'."

They both took a cab to the house, which wasn't really a house but a manor. It was huge, and Steve thought he had seen huge. Turns out Midwest standards are nothing on city ones. Robin and Steve knocked on the door, that's when they met Mrs De Luka. She was harsh but loving, and most importantly. Insisted on being called Helena, or Ma.

There were so many people in the house, they only set about trying to find their boss and at least get to know his immediate family. Sure enough, halfway into the conversation with the man. Another man walked up to him and clapped him on the back. This man called their boss 'Carlo' and introduced himself, Angelo, his wife Luna, and finally their kids.

Behind them was a girl just about their age maybe a few years older. She was short and had Angelos curly black hair, Luna's tanned skin, and an arched nose that clearly came from Mr. De Luka. Robin lost her breath, and stumbled. She stumbled so hard her shoulder bashed against Steve and he got to witness his best friend make possibly the most hurried introduction ever. Luckily the girl, Amara, just laughed.

Next to him was her brother Dante, who was notably younger. When Steve looked at him he felt a pang in his chest. If he squinted his eyes and tilted his head to the left he almost looked like Dustin. And just about the right age too.

Finally they all sat down for dinner. Robin and Steve sit shoulder to shoulder. Robin across from Amara and him across from Angelo. An older woman sat at the end of the table. Helena's mother, Mrs Ricci, and to her left her husband Mr. Ricci. To say Steve was shocked was.. an understatement, in any dinner parties his family had him attend, there was always a man at the head of the table. Steve likes to think that that's when he started to feel a bit more comfortable.

The dinner went on incredibly long, eating was interrupted by conversations, bickering, and drinking. But it was amazing. By the end of the night, when Mr. De Luka and Angelo walked them out; they were both smiling. exhausted, maybe, but happy. Angelo slapped his shoulder and said 'cousin, come by anytime.' Mr. De Luka had walked back inside at Helena's call so the other man leaned forward. 'you two make my little brother happy, I've not seen it in a while.'

[sophieinwonderland]

A new hate blog is on the scene: Meet @no-context-endogenics

The DNI is rich when your whole blog is dedicated to witch-hunting and calling out endogenic systems by name. But let's see if this blog is even living up to its own name.

Here's the first post on their blog:

First... literally have no idea what's wrong with this. But second... Let's take a quick look at the pinned of this system they targeted.

Literally a traumagenic system.

IN THE FIRST POST OF THIS BLOG!

To be fair, they did post to the endogenic tags, but a lot of pro-endo traumagenic systems do when users like this make them feel unsafe in traumagenic spaces.

Right... which is why you posted the previous traumagenic system on your no-context-endogenics blog that claims to be about posting endos! 🙄

Also, I can't tell... are you lumping in mixed origin systems with "endos" here? It seems like you are, because the blog has a tendency of posting mixed origin systems too when it claims to be posting endos, as well as ones that just don't state their origins. Because many mixed origin systems do, in fact, have a disorder and are very public about it.

For example...

Mixed origin, polyfragmented DID system.

(Also, runs some of the coolest and most important plural blogs on Tumblr.)

Another post on this blog, which I'm not including here, was from a 14-year-old polyfragmented c-DID system. That system didn't say if they were endogenic or traumagenic, but I think it's safe to assume that they were most likely at least partially traumagenic.

And no, I think systems that harm the community definitely deserve hate. People who are out there calling out systems, fakeclaiming them, implicitly fakeclaiming trauma, bullying, etc.

But systems who are just existing as endogenic... sorry... we aren't your scapegoat.

I generally try to be nice with these. At least relatively.

But I'm going to fail this time.

You. Are. Pathetic.

All of you.

Endogenic systems have NOTHING to do with why systems are fakeclaimed. Do you want to know why systems are fakeclaimed? It's because systems... are weird. We are. We're a step too far from the norm and the average neurotypical singlet can't comprehend multiple existing in the same body together.

That makes us easy targets. And we should be standing together. We should be supporting each other.

But people like you are only interested in tearing us down because you're too cowardly to put the blame for your fakeclaiming on the actual fakeclaimers.

You want to talk about ruining the community, but you fakeclaim other systems. You hurt other systems. Including traumagenic DID systems. Because you're miserable and you have to inflict your misery on others to make yourselves feel better.

Have you ever been to Fakedisordercringe?

Because let me tell you, the people who get fakeclaimed there aren't usually fakeclaimed for being endogenic. Yes, of course they're anti-endo. But many who are targeted are traumagenic DID systems and it has nothing to do with endogenics at all.

Although... I guess that also applies to the @no-context-endogenics too, doesn't it? I mean, out of every post there, I think this might be the only one that's actually purely endogenic. (Not mixed origins, unknown or explicitly traumagenic.) Most of the blog is just Fakedisordercringe-style posts targeted at trauamagenic DID systems.

Minor bodied? Minor bodied with over 200 headmates? Using the word "headmates?" OSDD-1b? Fictive heavy? Undertale fictives?

The cringe subreddits would gobble you all up in a heartbeat.

And you know what the most incredible part of this is???

You're supporting them!

You give them the moral justification they need. You support this ridiculous narrative that there are these groups who are causing DID to not be taken seriously by... existing... often, in the case of most endogenic systems, not even claiming to have a disorder in the first place. Just... being plural.

And you give the okay for these singlets to feel morally justified in attacking and fakeclaiming systems just like your own.

You are EVERYTHING wrong with the system community.

You're the reason systems fear expressing themselves online or in public. The reason fakeclaiming is so rampant. You contribute to this toxic environment of fear and paranoia in system spaces.

You're not defending the system community.

YOU ARE THE ONES RUINING THIS COMMUNITY!

You're just a bunch of cyberbullies.

And the same goes for anybody supporting you too.

(And before anybody takes issue with me posting this when two of the bullies acting as admins for the blog are minor-bodied, I'm just going to remind you again that another one of their posts which I didn't share here targeted a 14-year-old polyfragmented DID system, so I really don't care about the ages of the bullies in the slightest.)