#my transgression is much bigger

[hussyknee]

Been meaning to bathe the kittens but kept putting it off bc the last time I bathed them was when they were much tinier and more forgiving. But today I nearly stepped on a decapitated mouse they had dragged upstairs, so into the tub they all went. They're now fresh, kissable, and heartbroken. 💔

[widowshill]

the r/l/b and r/v/b “everything is cyclical, and a contest, and we are once again resting who wins and who loses on a woman’s favor” continues.

[envy-of-the-apple]

LOVE the new fic. The betrayal literally made me tear up.

I was just curious would Gojo have given up on Ms. Moon if she were married or maybe had a kid.

oh fu c k such a good idea whydidn'tithinkofthis- (this got so long i am so sorry)

in the fic, ms.moon is pretty traumatized after the gojo incident to have any real relationships after.

But maybe ms.moon gets into therapy, works through the issues of intimacy. You meet someone, nice, kind. You settle down, have a kid. It'll be nice for a few years...but when gojo comes back into your life. he'll shut it down quick.

Gojo's worse than his high school self now. He might not beat your husband up, but that might be a blessing compared to the tsunami he's about to havoc on your family. Using his connections, he'll make sure your husband never finds a job in the entire city, the entire region even. He might even dig up something your husband did in his past, a small drug problem he had with highschool-something that would get swept under the rug normally, but with Gojo's scrutiny, it's about to become a lot bigger.

You could stop it. With enough begging. After you'd cry your heart out, he'd shush you, wiping away your tears, saying that he'd forgive you for your transgressions.

You'd be expected to divorce your husband. Your husband would be pretty pissed with your flimsy reasoning of 'my childhood bully isn't done with ruining my life' but then he'd remember that there is a reason the Gojo family is so big. And they don't take kindly to competitors who stand in their way. You'd understand why he lets you walk away without a fight, but a part of you wished he would have pushed more, even if the result would have remained the same.

It's your child who suffers the worst through all of this. Maybe you had a daughter. Perhaps gojo would be a bit more tolerant towards her if she looked like you but she was clearly her father's daughter. In the past, you adored it, now it's another curse for you.

You have to keep her away, for her sake. Gojo is already more than upset that you dared to start a family without him. Besides, why would you want her with you? Why would you want her to suffer under gojo's whims?

A part of you has to admit that it's also for your sake. You don't want your daughter to see you like that. Weak, rolling under that man's thumb.

She's probably just a toddler when you have to leave. She's too young to understand when you say 'mommy's going away for a while'. Maybe you'd lie to her, say that you're going overseas and when she asks if she can come with you, you'd shake your head because talking anymore would be too much because Satoru's waiting in the sleek black car right on the curb. It doesn't matter what you say, she screams and sobs the entire time.

You don't touch your ex-husband, you don't even hug because you know Satoru's watching. You just ask him to take care of her before you walk into the car, getting into the passenger seat. Your daughter's still begging you to come back. You make sure the car is out of her sight before you start sobbing.

There's a hand on your thigh, squeezing, a mocking act of comfort. You're sure Satoru's grinning.

"Aw. Don’t cry, baby," you can barely hold yourself back from slapping him, though you doubted even pain would wipe that look off his face.

The hand drifts up your thigh, playing with the hem of your pants.

"Once we have our own kids, you’ll get way too busy to think about your old one.”

[lightlycareless]

Pussy inspection with Naoya 😫😫😍

Before going to his mission he tells us to not touch ourselves and when he comes back, he makes sure that we listened to him🤭

And if we didn’t…

It’s up to you to decide 🤓

( you don’t have to write it , don’t force yourself please 😭)

Heya anon 😏

well damn now that is something that... yeah wow. I'm not gonna lie and say that isn't something Naoya wouldn't do lol he's 10000% in it. You might encourage him to it too—y'all perverts like that.

Although with what happens after not so much 🤭

warnings: NSFW minors DNI. Smut. Naoya is a pervert, the ask is self explanatory.

Happy reading!

There are no words exchanged between the two when Naoya eventually makes his long-awaited return home, already knowing what he’ll demand of you by simply guiding him to your shared bedroom, laying down onto the futon, legs wide open and void of any underwear, which gave him enough space to fill in.

Once ready, he begins to corroborate if you’ve kept your part of the agreement the two struck before his departure, the same one he kept in his mind throughout the longevity of his tedious mission.

Reunions with him weren’t always like this.

This… meticulous.

If anything, both you and Naoya were far too eager to be back in each other’s presence to bother doing anything else.

But there were moments where your husband simply desired to do something more, perhaps take advantage of your seemingly endless devotion to him and get his fair share of fun with it, make this marriage slightly more exciting, and thankfully for him, that’s exactly what’ll happen—much to your dismay.

Your breath shudders when his fingers finally make way to your slit, thumbs gently pressing at the edges of your lips and spreading them apart, giving him sight of the lovely pink color that has made him mad with pleasure countless times.

Alongside the sensitive bud he’s teased far more times he could bother to remember, diligently pushing you over the edge time after time, yet always leaving you wanting more.

The purpose behind his search was to find any indications that you might’ve gone against his word, the slightest hint that your desire was bigger than self-restraint, unable to keep your hands to yourself while he came back from his mission and tainted it.

But from what he was able to see, you hadn’t. Dutifully keeping your pleasure solely for him as seen in your seemingly untouched cunt; soft, shaved, and well-trimmed, just like he liked it. Alongside the warm tightness of your walls as he pushed his fingers past your dampened rim, scissoring them as if to check there wasn’t anything different, anything wrong he might need to correct.

His cock twitched at the thought of being enveloped in your cozy walls, God knows how much he missed the way you squeezed him.

Yet, you’d be greatly underestimating his attentiveness by believing that appeasing to him through the things he enjoyed was enough to save you, which is what ultimately sentenced your fate, gaining you his rejection in the way he pulls away from you with a dejected face instead of giving you the praise you so desperately craved, the sourest of emotions inundating your chest soon after.

“Naoya—” you whine, quickly reaching out for Naoya, only for him to swat you away. “Naoya, my love—!”

“You think I wouldn’t notice that you went against my word?” he hisses, as if you’d done the greatest transgression yet against him. And to him, it might’ve been.

“I—I didn’t!” you gasp, moving closer to him to the point where he was just mere inches away. “I would never!”

“Don’t lie to me! Not when I know the truth.”

When he uses that tone, alongside the fact that he indeed knew the truth, you quickly understood there was nothing else to fight for, nothing else to do, except…

“How... how did you know?”

Simply because he knows you so well.

He rightfully assumed something was wrong the moment you saw him back at the estate, in the subtle manner you lacked to show the eagerness you always did when receiving him after a week’s long mission.

The absence of your pouty lips and flustered cheeks as you repeatedly told him how much you missed him and making up for all those nights he spent away.

And if that wasn’t evidence enough, the intimate details of your reaction were also there to consider—such as the way your cunt didn’t twitch when spreading it. You didn’t curl your toes, you didn’t hold your breath, your hips didn’t even lean into his touch as he prodded you.

It was plain obvious that your body wasn’t responding to him because those needs were already met, by you nonetheless.

And how endearing it was for you to believe you had fooled him, behaving like an innocent little dove in hopes he’ll oversee your mistakes.

But he knew you; he knew you better than yourself; and thus, it only took him one quick glance to see through your lies and call out the truth.

However, just as he knew you, down to the smallest aspects, you knew him as well, enough to understand that the anger in his eyes and the avoidance of his touch wasn’t real but rather, an act made to further arise a response from you.

Because Naoya would never dream of doing something that might hurt you. You are the love of his life, after all.

That wouldn’t stop him from being cruel from time to time, though.

“I— I didn’t mean to!” you cried, tightly holding onto his arm and pulling him closer to you. “It’s just that I… I missed you so much, I couldn’t help it! What was I supposed to do while you were gone??”

“Wait for me, like the good girl you swore to be.” Naoya darkly murmurs. “But it seems I underestimated your lascivious nature.”

“I am a good girl!” you persist. “Please, I’m sorry, Naoya, I won’t do it again!”

“It’s too late for that, Y/N. I don’t know if I can trust you again…” he smirks. “Unless you prove to me that I can.”

Whether this was the real purpose of his reaction, or something that later came to him that day, it didn’t matter, because you’d neither hesitate to do so, or at least try to— for your commitment to regain his embracing devotion was stronger than any ulterior motive:

From tending to him first thing in the morning by preparing his favorite meals, with the perfect temperature and seasoning, just how he liked it, having his clothes warmed up and pristine, so he’d look good as he always did…

Or if needed, a warm bath to ease his tensions, mind fuzzy and muscles relaxed as your body and the water washed all worries away, keeping him solely focused on you and the pleasures you could provide if only he’d been willing to oblige…

Yet, as much as you did your best, it wasn’t enough for Naoya, who opted to keep you at bay in favor of getting more of your adorable behavior, acting like an eager bunny by giving him those soft, pleading eyes of yours to incite him into rewarding you for your misbehavior.

To receive, if just the slightest brush of his fingertips against your cunt and leave all this behind.

But did you really think that by doing what you were meant to do anyways, you’ll achieve that?

That he’ll be able to look past your neediness, your incapability to not touch yourself, behaving like some kind of insatiable whore that couldn’t look past her own satisfaction, ignoring her husband’s simple request and tossing away a lifetime of pleasure for a mere instance?

No. Of course not.

He’s not going to pass by the opportunity to remind you that as much as he loves you, there are things that must remain undeniably true, such as the fact that every inch of you, every crevice, curve, down to parts you hadn’t even seen yourself—

All belonged to him.

So, you’d do good in continuing to please him, from upkeeping his role as heir to the eyes of others, portraying a sight of duty and respect before the clan— to whore in the calmest hours of the night, where he’d use your body for his own release, marking you with his seed yet cruelly denying you release…

 You were born to be his.

And by the end of his torment, you’d remember well.

Naoya be like: you have to make me cum 3 times and then i'll touch your pussy.

y/n: *does it*

naoya: *asleep*

y/n: DAMMIT

😏 that's kinda hot tho. he won't like it if the tables turn tho hahaha

Anyways, thank you for sending in this ask!! 😏 Naoya has some specific kinks, and I 100% believe this was one of them. Thankfully, I have something written for the bath part... (planned, more likely. I haven't written it lol)

I hope you enjoyed it!!

Thank you so much for your patience, take care, and hope to see you soon!!

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 3

Propaganda Under Cut

Allura

Lots of people (myself included tbh) ship klance (Keith and Lance). In s8 the creators made Allura/Lance canon (but then they killed her off and left the ending ambiguous it was weird). Anyway the fandom treats her like she's the most terrible bitchy woman ever but all she wants to do is end the war and avenge her destroyed home planet. Yeah she wasn't always the nicest or always the best, but you could argue some other characters in the show aren't either and they aren't treated near as bad as allura. people really just hate her bc Lance liked her. I don't think allura/lance are good together, but I still liked her as a character and thought she was interesting and had a lot of growth during the show. she DEF is not evil like some people portray her as in fic or talk about her in captions on posts. I've seen people say that they HATE her and that she's the worst and I'm like ??? let her live (well sort of ig she is dead now). lots of fic writers use her as the villain which is so interesting to me bc the show literally has villains like use them. anyway allura so perfectly fits the bracket description she deserves better.

I hate to acknowledge my time in this fandom but I hate the way the fandom treated her more. Allura was treated like shit no matter what side of the Great Ship War you were on because she was always a threat to the biggest ships (klance and sheith). At best she got put into Background Lesbian or Consolation Prize Shallura (Space Mom-zoned) (She was not a motherly figure btw. She was just Black). At worst she was violently demonized for being ~racist~ (kinda not cool with the alien race that blew up her planet for a few episodes), complete with misogynistic language hurled at her (she got called a bitch sooo much). Allura was a good and cool character and the show did her dirty but the fandom was somehow worse.

i apologise for speaking the dark magicks, but amidst the voltron fandoms many, many transgressions, there were a particular subset of people who just hated this girl. the infamous klance wars of the 2010s kept this perfectly fine childrens cartoon character in the sights of shippers everywhere, and she (and her voice actress im sure) were subjected to years of petty squabble blown up to global perportions. ive seen hate, ive seen rants, ive seen fanfics that made her homophobic. girls been through the ringer, and even though voltron was never the show its fandom wanted it to be, i believe allura deserved better

Every Supernatural Woman

Supernatural is so mean to women and committed to queerbaiting but it still gives Sam and Dean lovers to kill. The writers kill and villainize them and the fans get the few that remain

wincest and destiel shippers cannot handle the idea of their blorbos having a Woman THREATENING their SHIPS god FORBID

It literally used to be a running joke that if a female character got introduced you knew she was going to die soon because fans would react so negatively to her "stealing" one of the boys away from the big ship, whether it be destiel or wincest

[raayllum]

Was rewatching the scene under Avizandum's grave in 3x06 for another meta, but stumbled across something I was interesting, re: the broyals.

For Callum, as he says, "I hate him. He's the one who took my mother. Looking at him, seeing him, it makes me sad and angry and... confused." Meanwhile Ezran is clearly less affected, too busy playing and being happy in his reunion with Zym; and judging by his closeness with Zubeia and defense of Avizandum to Rex in S4, it doesn't seem as though Ezran harbours the same messy storm of emotions regarding the former Dragon King that Callum does, even as Callum still settles on, "But that was Zym's dad."

On the one hand, this makes sense; Ezran, as he says, lost his mother before he ever really got to know her. That doesn't make his grief any lesser, but it would mean holding onto anger for a different kind of transgression and one where the alternative - a life where his mother lived - would be infinitely harder for him to conceptualize than for Callum, who can and does remember.

And we see Callum struggle a little in the instances he's first presented with Runaan's bow in both his short story Inheritance and in 5x01, but ultimately he's able to handle it and give it to Rayla happily and has no real reservations about it. Yes, "It was the weapon that killed his father" but it is also "the weapon of someone Rayla had loved" and the latter is what clearly wins out, since upon seeing Runaan again... He has a decidedly different reaction than he did upon seeing Avizandum.

But given Ezran's anger in his short story...

That Moonshadow elf upon the castle ramparts, skulking toward his father’s chambers. The blood upon those exquisite elven blades. The red-tailed arrow armed with a mission declared by Zubeia herself— [...] Ezran felt a coldness twist its way around his heart. It took his lungs, too, and for a long moment he could not breathe, could not feel anything but an unfamiliar anger so potent it seized the whole of him, inside and out. Ezran stepped towards the arrow— —and stomped down on it as hard as he could. He wished he were bigger, stronger, he wished his boots were made of iron and not something soft. Still, it was enough. When he pulled his foot away, Ezran glared down at the arrow’s hawkish head, flattened and broken.

It makes me wonder if Runaan's presence / freedom will force Ezran to contend with all his big feelings much the way Avizandum's resting place forced Callum to. If Ezran's comparatively lack of negative reaction with Avizandum was the trade off for Callum having a more positive one with Runaan, and hence the brothers are going to be Switching, accordingly.

Either way, I think it's an interesting potential parallel for the brothers, and I'm excited to see where it's taken in S6/7.

[incorrectssr]

Been chewing cement over Dottie Underwood again so I present the court with some sleep deprived babbling about the Red Room/bread scene at the beginning of 1x05 'The Iron Ceiling' that I typed out on Discord. I have had so many interpretations of the bread over my six years in this fandom and I maintain Dottie considered Anya as prey from the very beginning.

So we know that the bread is a hidden luxury (if it can be called that it looks stale as heck) that Dottie should not have, although is likely encouraged to have as I think survival and secrecy is something promoted by her superiors (Heaven forbid she gets caught though). However, sleeping in the middle of a highly open plan room she has limited time to consume her contraband. Knowing that the Matron is looking the other way as she is concerned with the handcuffs of girls behind and walking in the direction opposite to her, the girls around her busy with making their beds, Dottie takes out the bread and faces the direction that the Matron is making her rounds so that she can see how long she has.

Of course, this time, Anya is there. I like to think of Anya as either being a new addition, an older girl when taken or generally one of the weaker members of the cohort because I do not think Dottie has any friendly intentions towards her. The former appears more likely as Anya is shown to be physically larger and stronger than Dottie in the final fight scene (Dottie flinches when Anya feints a lunge towards her). The sharing of the bread, as I have said previously in one of my many extrapolations on this scene, is a signal of enmity for Dottie (as seen with her offering half her baguette to Peggy in the diner immediately after the Black Widow sequence - although the line 'I can never finish mine' could be interpreted in such a way to support the idea of a genuine friendship but I think that would be a little out of character… unless the timeline of the first sequence is MUCH longer than it appears… interesting, I might have to explore that avenue of thought later).

However, I think it is a necessity as well. She has been seen; it was always likely she would be seen. So she has three options: intimidate, bribe, or do nothing. In a cutthroat world the latter option would be suicide and the former would do little good against a girl physically bigger than her and would attract too much attention. Her only option is bribery, which naturally casts herself at the whim of her victim who could always choose to say no and snitch on Dottie but Dottie is a clever little beast and has already scoped Anya out.

Anya is wide eyed in these opening scenes. She watches Dottie's transgression as though she has never seen something so bold, would never dream of doing something so daring. Intimidation would scare her too much, but a sweet touch? Dottie has memorised every word, every tone, every expression of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves - she knows a defenceless creature when she sees one. And she hasn't had anyone to practice her bright, happy, childlike joy smile on yet. So she hands Anya - starving, obedient Anya - half of her hard earned bread and breaks out her well rehearsed smile. Does it first, quick - I am a friend I am a friend I am your friend - to open up the possibility of amicable relations for Anya to flash her teeth back BUT Anya's smile reaches her eyes and for a sequence with so much focus on Dottie's eyes one will notice her smile doesn't reach her own.

It's actually really sickening this sequence - especially the scene where she kills Anya. That said I am obsessed with the way that Anya uses her size to intimidate Dottie in the fighting arena and the way Dottie flinches away proving that Anya IS the superior fighter, the stronger, bigger candidate who SHOULD win the fight. But she can't because Dottie has been placing these seeds of friendship in her mind - the bread, sitting beside her in the projector room - and that will weaken the strong but not the tenacious. And Dottie Underwood does not care about your feelings but she does care about survival.

But yeah, I think the bread occurs as a one time necessity and carries on as a litmus test - how you respond to the bread determines how Dottie will deal with you. Peggy's refusal of half of the baguette no doubt reaffirms Dottie's perception of her as the perfect, spoiled girl who gets everything she wants. Peggy doesn't NEED the sustenance, doesn't accept it and is willing to let it waste without a second thought. For a girl raised on stale bread rolls tucked under her pillowcase that must feel like a spit in the eye. Fuck I love Dottie Underwood.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Howdy Mr. Dapper! Your ideas for zhuzhing up different gods are always so cool, I was wondering if you had any for Grummsh? Either keeping him as a patron of orcs but losing the evilness, or making him believably evil but not relegating him to one people?

Deity: Gruumsh, God of Grudges

The soldiers let me and my boy through the wall because they thought we’d be useful. Making leather’s foul work but someone’s got to mend their armour and boots. A few years go past and my boy gets bigger, starts looking like he might be a problem, so they start looking for excuses, and they keep finding excuses until they have him on the ground and are beating him to death with the boots I made them. 

Ruiner, they have taken my son so let me have this instead: Help me live long enough to slip my knife under their skin, Help me flay every last one of the bastards , Help me give back this pain they’ve given me. I do not want it. 

-Grimma, orcish tanner and resistance leader

As much as the kindhearted would like to deny it, there are some hatreds that are holy, some transgressions that can not be forgiven, some hurts that will not ease until they are avenged. These are the province of Gruumsh, the Ruiner, Father of the wronged. Gruumsh is a god to curse by, a god to get you through bitter times, and he lends his strength and fathomless anger to those who have been hard done by. Gruumsh is defined by his symbol of the gouged eye, a wound that will not close forced upon him by enemies yet to be brought to justice. 

That justice however does not resemble anything that could be codified in law. Gruumsh is known as the Ruiner because often the ultimate culmination of his worship is just that: the violent obliteration of both his worshipper and those that wronged them, a closed circle of bloodshed and loss that balances the scales through pain. 

Adventure Hooks

A storm has driven the party and several other travellers to take shelter in a roadhouse, delaying their days long journey to the next settlement but giving them a chance to get cozy by the fire, maybe trade some gossip with the others. Storytime is however interrupted when a deadman begins hammering at the door, demanding for someone to let him in so that he can wreak vengeance on those that murdered him. Interrogating the dead man through the door reveals that he was making his way towards the inn when set upon by masked figures who robbed him of his possessions and left him dead in a ditch with a prayer to the Ruiner on his lips. Its up to the party to piece together which of their dinner companions might’ve done the deed, or else the revnant is likely to break in, kill them all, and let Gruumsh sort it out. 

An orcish noblewoman needs the party’s help in recovering a number of important items stolen from her family’s chapel. She was on the eve of brokering a peace with a rival noble house and putting an end to generations of bloodfued when someone broke in, defaced their altar, and stole several mementos that are not only important to her family but also empowered with a dangerous magic. Most of her people blame thieves,  the rival faction, or the disfavour of Gruumsh himself, though if the party search hard enough the evidence may just point them in the direction of her hot blooded younger brother who feels as if he’s yet to prove himself in the family’s ongoing conflict. 

An enterprising land baron attempted to oust the local hermit from his land and ended up getting some divine wrath for his trouble, the old crank’s curse bringing down a celestially empowered chimera to harry the baron and rampage across his holdings. Landlords are parasites, and while the party might be tempted to let the beast despite the generous reward he offers, there is also the matter of the other people live on his various tenant farms who’ve been caught in the literal crossfire. Perhaps there’s a more equitable way to end this, especially since killing the beast ( or the hermit, as the landlord subtly entreats) may bring Gruumsh’s wrath down on them. 

As with gods like the Allhammer or the Archheart, Gruumsh can be worshipped by any but is most often depicted as an orc, with some myths claiming that the first orcs rose up in legion from the drops of blood spilled from the Ruiner when his eye was first taken. Some of his priests, known as grudgekeepers like to joke that the famed orcish resilience in the face of grievous harm  is one of Gruumsh’s favourite gifts, the chance to strike back against your murderer one last time before death comes to claim you. 

There are few temples dedicated to the Ruiner, and those do exist often serve as monuments to wrongs so great that could not be avenged. Likewise those devotees who extend their faith into public practice tend to preach to others seeking to memorialize, or to ferment public agitation against some great personal or social injustice that must be corrected. Some societies try to suppress worship of the ruiner, fearing that he incites the same pain he claims to avenge, but in these austere cultures where the mighty may do as they please Gruumsh has little need of temples: his shrines are the bloodstains that can’t be cleaned off the street, his prayers are made in defaced edifices and vulgar words shared between those who suffer.

Signs: Fresh blood remembering old violence, rage so pure it distorts reality, physical cracks in symbols of authority

Symbols: A lone bleeding eye, nails driven into a resilient surface over and over and over again.

Titles: The Ruiner, The Unblinking, He who never sleeps

Art

[cinnamonest]

This is by far my favourite genshin yan blog, the way you write the characters are so like how i picture them! My question is, of all the mortal genshin boys, other than Razor, which do you see as the top handful of yans being most mentally determined to find you and bring you home if you managed to escape, even across the continent? Like, the LEAST willing to just give up eventually and find a new darling?

Uwahh ty anon <3

I like that you had to specify “other than Razor” lol

Obviously all are gonna be rather determined to find you again, but some in particular that come to mind:

-----

Ayato keeps a fairly humble exterior, but in truth, he has a sense of pride, and when that pride is wounded, it’s not something he can easily forgive.

Of course, he has quite a large amount of resources at his disposal, so he'll likely be able to find you rather quickly, in which case you'll get the cold treatment and quite a firm talking-to, after which the matter will be let go of, albeit gradually. Still, it won't be treated as that big of a deal.

Not that he isn’t attached to you, of course, but that pridefulness is a large part of his motivation in tracking you down. It’s not just ‘how could you leave me,’ but it’s more ‘how dare you leave me.’ It’s offense, anger, bitterness. You don’t get to do that. He’s not about to take such an insult without putting every resource he has at his disposal into correcting what he feels to be a transgression against him.

If, on the other hand, even all the subordinates he has on hand can't find you within a day or so, then it becomes a bigger issue. He initially had a few people sent out to retrieve you, but in this case, he'll instead direct all of the staff he has available to do so.

Over time, though, the longer you stay unfound, the more he begins to lose composure. Becomes more irritable, less emotionally stable, begins to uncharacteristically snap at people and lose his temper. Which he realizes and is self-aware of, often stopping and catching himself mid-sentence and forcing himself to calm down... the realization that he's acting so unusually undignified just drives him to put that much more effort in.

Which is also why, by the time you are finally found, it's far from a warm welcome home. You're treated with a rather cold demeanor, narrowed eyes downcast to look at you with disdain. He treats it as quite the offense, which is why you'll never be given such an opportunity again... and frankly, in part due to the fact that he's worried of what would become of his sanity if that were to ever occur again.

-----

Tighnari is a bit sad to witness, really. It’s yet another instance of the whole “mate for life” thing drives him to find you at all costs, his brain is hardwired to have a ‘one and only’ in a way a human’s brain is not. Life ceases to feel worthwhile, nothing else seems to be of any importance. He’ll forget to eat and sleep.

His mental state will gradually deteriorate the longer you’re gone. It's not a matter of logical reasoning that he's likely to find you, and while despair and longing is certainly a major element in it all, that's still not the root cause. It's a sense of wrongness. His brain is constantly alerting him to a sense of something being wrong and needing immediate resolution, an instinct that's subconscious rather than conscious, like pain or hunger, a sensation that is hardwired into the brain and will not go away until the issue is fixed.

People feel a lot of pity for him. He doesn't eat much, doesn't sleep. He'll go out into the forest, aimlessly wandering around, as if expecting to find something. Constantly searching, often to the point he's at the brink of collapse from exhaustion. He takes trips out into the city, to the desert, everywhere he can think of.

He also, probably more so than any other listed here, undergoes personality change, in which he essentially gradually becomes a hollow shell. Rarely speaks. All his movements become slow and lethargic, he walks around with glazed-over eyes staring out into nothing. It's such an innate instinct, he's essentially incapable of functioning normally, his very body begins to shut down out of grief as he becomes emaciated and dull-eyed.

That being said, pitiful as it is, and as tempted as you may be to feel bad for him, that also means it will be extremely unfortunate for you if you were ever found again. The experience leaves him utterly traumatized, to the extent that if you're found, you can be absolutely certain that you will never have the opportunity to leave ever again, regardless of how extreme the measure to ensure it may be.

-----

Childe is similar to Ayato in that it's partially a pride matter, but it's not a matter of that pride being offended by you running off, so much as it is maintaining it by being able to get you back. That is, he won't see your running off as a slight against him or hold a grudge, but he stakes his confidence in being able to hunt you down with ease.

Far more importantly, however, he likes the challenge of it. It's part of who he is in general, he's the sort of boy that if you say "there's no way you can do that" or the like, it will suddenly become his utmost imperative to do exact the thing in question and not stop until he has accomplished proving you wrong. It's practically compulsive, he has to prove that he is capable of whatever he decides to do, and the thought of being wrong and thus incapable is infuriating. Likewise, you running off is essentially an indirect way of you presenting a challenge to him. How could he ever just sit back and let you go, or not put full effort into finding you?

His attitude changes a bit, though, depending on the duration of time consumed. For the first little while, he treats it sort of like a game, has fun with the whole matter. He doesn't even seem all that upset that you've gotten out; if anything, he's almost excited by it.

Once you've disappeared for some time, though, and he begins to feel like he actually might not be able to find you, that you might get away, his attitude changes. Now he's actually getting nervous, and more importantly, the fact that you successfully hid from him for such a duration of time is... irritating. Basically you getting one over on him, and it feels like you're mocking him... in his head he can practically see you being all smug about it. Makes him grind his teeth, clench his fists.

The angrier he gets, the more frantic and desperate he gets with his search. Normally, he'll be slower about it, likes to see you squirm and finds it cute to see how you will try to hide away somewhere, so he likes to give you enough time to make it to potential "help" and all that, just to see you despair when it all falls apart anyway. But on the rare occasion you hide a little too well, and suddenly he actually can't find you, then it's a problem, and he'll be far stricter and harsher with his searching, and far more emotionally volatile to those around him.

Eventually this can become too much. If it takes too long and he genuinely panics, he'll even drop the usual snarky demeanor after finally finding you, too upset to even mock you, entirely focused on anger and prioritizing taking you back. So if you're finally found, but he's uncharacteristically quiet and cold, it's not a good sign for your immediate future.

-----

Heizou... well, he thinks he can find you, so he sets his mind to it.

He's a much more mentally stable yandere than most, but when it comes to you disappearing, when the situation arises, he has to calm himself down and remind himself that this is basically his specialty, is it not? He's been on plenty of missing persons cases before. He just needs to apply the same methodology he would use for those.

Of course, his personal emotions do get in the way of his efficiency. Due to being very lucid and all, his primary feeling in the moment is intense paranoia and panic that you're going to go to law enforcement. The first thing he does, actually, is head to the station himself, thinking he might catch you there if that is where you decided to go... but then again, you'd probably not do that for obvious reasons. In which case...

He has to calm himself down, but putting his mind to work helps with that process. He goes about it just as he would with anything else, making a mental list of possibilities, narrowing it down and prioritizing the most likely of those possibilities, then gradually begins checking each and using process of elimination. He has to keep his mind distracted, treat it like a case, or else he knows he's going to break down.

But in terms of dedication, he can keep it up for a very, very long time, and puts in every ounce of effort he has, everything he's learned over his years, into seeing it through. This, too, is largely about his own sanity. He focuses his entire mental energy into treating it like a case because he knows he'll fall apart if he doesn't, and thus, he's incredibly dedicated. He has to keep focusing on it, not take his mind off of it. The moment he begins to let himself despair, he'll give into paranoia, and quite possibly fully lose his mind.

Thus, in a way, continuing searching is what keeps him sane. If he stops, he'll be constantly paranoid, constantly panicked, but at least searching for you gives his brain a faux sense of progress, which calms him down... although, given enough time without success, that coping method might start to fail too...

-----

Although what is perhaps the absolute worst isn't immortal nor in any particularly notable position of power.

Kaeya is driven by a lot of things. Love, sure, it's part of it.

But primarily, above all else, when he comes home one day to an empty room, he goes through a few stages. First panic, grief, you know, the expected emotions, the whole process of frantically checking around for you, slowly coming to terms with reality. He then falls into a deep depression, lasting around two or three days, drinks himself to the point of unconsciousness at least twice over.

And then, when he wakes up slumped onto the couch, head pounding and dizzy, staring up at the ceiling, the hurt is quickly overridden by a new sentiment: pure, unadulterated spite.

It's no secret to you, after living with him for so long, that despite the exterior, he's not exactly the most emotionally stable person in the world, that he has quite his fair share of unresolved psychological issues.

It's a bit different from the pridefulness of precious entries. It's an extension of pride, tied to it, but it's more... malicious. Vengeful. Driven by a desire not just to get you back out of love, nor out of desire to restore a sense of pride, but because getting you back is the only way he can ensure you suffer.

Which is why you probably should have known better. You're just inviting the potential consequences. And that spite is one hell of a motivator.

Day in, day out. He takes time away from work, comes up with an excuse about an emergency that must be dealt with. Uses any and every resource at his disposal. Embezzles funds before he departs if necessary.

You think you can just get up and walk off. After everything he's done for you? No, no, you don't get to do that to him. You're not allowed to do that, you don't get to get away with that. It's a bitter, seething feeling, but that sensation just drives him to work harder. It can be easily utilized and converted into energy and dedication, like fuel to an engine.

He doesn't really have any limits to what he's willing to do, either. Unlike some that would still maintain their ethics, if threatening or hurting people is necessary to get information, it's not something he'll hesitate to do.

He may not have what others have — underlings at his command, the animal senses, the professional investigative background, the unlimited lifespan of time, or any of the other advantages that everyone else listed here has — but he gets the top ranking here purely by merit of relentless, boundless, unhinged determination. And, of course, unhesitating use of extreme measures and remarkable willingness for violence doesn't hurt. Quite the force to be reckoned with, and you really don't want to be on the receiving end of the vengefulness fueling it all... not that you have much of a choice, as you will be found eventually, no matter how far.

And yet, despite how unlikely it is, somehow, you know. When you come back one day and notice the lights are all out and door hanging open, you feel dread. When you walk in to a quiet, dark room, walk around the home with trembling footsteps, come to a halt and feel your eyes go wide as you look down to some indistinguishable shapes lying on the floor, you know immediately. Without having to think, without having to wonder, without any clues to go on. You just immediately, instinctively know. Even before you feel a presence right behind you, even before you slowly turn your head over your shoulder...

And you did, in fact, manage to get pretty far. Found some nice people that let you stay with them. How nice of them.

For most people, it would seem like you were in the clear, and even now, whenever you get paranoid, look around with nervous eyes in public and all, people tell you you're letting it get to your head, that there's nothing to worry about. But you can't shake the feeling.

[miquella-everywhere]

Miquella Theory: The Mirage Rise

So I made a post a while ago about Lenne's Rise and I said that the strange Golden Glintstone found there is the only place in the Lands Between where you can find it.

Well I was wrong 😂 My bad guys lol

There are actually three different locations where you can find this Golden Glintsone, but for now I'm going to focus on the Mirage Rise, because aside from the Glintstone there is a whole lot of suspicious things happening at this place.

So upon entering the Mirage Rise you are greeted with this:

A bunch of chunks most likely from the Golden Glintstone, strangely enough they're not whole/giant crystals much like the ones found at Lenne's Rise and the Heretical Rise.

And then going up the ladder and the stairs leads you to the top of the rise where a chest is and deceased noble sits at the desk. The chest holds the Sorceries of Unseen Blade and Unseen Form, both magics of Sellian assassins(where in my Lily Hunt you find several Miquella's Lily's in Sellia implying Miquella spent time there), and the Nobles corpse holds a Slumbering Egg. 🤔

Now going outside to the right of the Rise, on the cliff there is an Owl watching over the Rise(🤔🤔🤔🤔) and if you travel more to the left there is a Miquellas Lily growing, then a little farther down there is a deceased Noble holding a Nascent Butterfly surrounded by several Wormfaces.

Now if you go to the left of the Rise there is a Wormface kneeling by a grave weeping, and placed infront of that grave is a single Miquella's Lily; let me reiterate, it was placed, not growing, placed, most likely intentionally, then right next to the grave are Nascent Butterflies fluttering around.

So, already all of these factors combined are so suspicious, and as I tried to approach this mystery from different angles, I'm inclined to believe one of two potential things happened here:

1. Someone stole Miquella's research from Lennes Rise and hid their Rise behind a Mirage to try and hide from the Demigod, but then karma caught up with them and they were silenced by Miquella for their transgression(the most likely imo)

or

2. Some other faction was looking into the Golden Glintstone and Miquella silenced them as a result

But regardless of what happened here there is a much bigger question hanging in the air here:

What is this strange Golden Glintstone????

There are three locations where you can find it in the Lands Between: first at Lennes Rise, second at the Mirage Rise, and third at the Heretical Rise.

Here at the Mirage Rise the Gold Glintstone is small, nothing more than a pebble.

While at Lennes Rise the Glintstone is massive and shines brightly

Then at the Heretical Rise the Glintstone is dim and dulled (which is potentially due to age as I believe the Gold Glintstone was discovered by the ancient Sorcerers first and then rediscovered by Miquella)

I can't say what exactly the Golden Glintstone is, but it definitely holds some significance, enough for even Miquella to take an interest in it and potentially experiment with. So for now speculation is up in the air and hopefully when the DLC is announced the mystery of the Gold Glintstone will be expanded upon 🤞

[mxverick-s]

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍-𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 一 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 '𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐀𝐍' 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐍

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 → the green-eyed monster of jealousy is actually a drunken, cocksure 6 foot something who couldn’t give less of a shit about fraternization policies.

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 → @fandom-life-12 ; could you write a Hangman x pilot!wife!reader where they met when they were at top gun the first time and no one knows they’re married bc they keep their rings with the dog tags under their shirt?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 → jake ‘hangman’ seresin x pilot!wife!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 → swearing, lowkey harassment

“I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE HAPPY TO SMELL STALE BEER AND CIGARETTES,” Phoenix theatrically exhaled, arm swooped through Y/N’s in a coerced heave towards the doors of the Hard Deck, “Maverick is psychologically torturing us by sticking us in the armpit of some room with guys whose fucking egos are bigger than said room.”  

A bout of relentless training had saturated into the breadth of their bones, the presence of psychological exhaustion from being confined to a conference room with some of the Navy’s prodigal assholes, weaved into the anchor cinching their bodies. And the Hard Deck was the favored remedy for those wearied muscles and minds. 

“Maybe it’s a test,” Y/N indulged the other woman’s exasperated grouse, squinting against the sun that haloed the bar’s roof. Phoenix raised an eyebrow in an implicit gesture to elaborate. “To see who can keep their cool the longest ー anyone that can emotionally tolerate being in a room with any of those trigger-happy fuckboys has my respect.” 

Phoenix half-heartedly scoffed, a lone finger angling her aviators onto the crown of her head as to fix Y/N with an amused swirl in her amber eyes, “I’m surprised you’ve kept yours; Hangman practically eye fucks you or propositions you with innuendos any chance he gets. I’d fail Maverick’s little Freudian experiment.” 

The acknowledgement of the six-foot irritation that afflicted Phoenix ー and previously her until a couple years ago ー exacted a finespun stiffening in her shoulders and waver in her eased expression. A six-foot irritation that was her husband. The subtle clang of her wedding ring against the firm steel of her dog tags, both pleated beneath the tan collar of her uniform presently, abruptly fell louder against her ears. 

“Unwelcomed, sex-driven comments from men? You basically just described what my entire time in the Navy has been like,” Y/N ventured to dispel any peak of conjecture Phoenix may have gathered from the flounder in her stance and behavior. 

The remark braced with discomfort in her throat as she uttered it; in her primitive days at the academy, she would have contently ー eagerly ー rose to the occasion of ridiculing Jake Seresin with a cocksure smile on her face, particularly if there was a blissful moment in which his own face cramped up with offense at the nerve of her comments. 

Much to the disgruntle of that brash, zealous girl, that wasn’t her modus operandi anymore. 

Yet, to Phoenix, it very much still was. And that would never change.

For the sake of not laying waste to their respective Navy positions, Jake and her had settled that their textbook transgression of the military’s fraternization policies, be tucked within a snug shroud of secrecy. 

And, it had worked for two years. 

“Fuck, I’ll drink to that,” Phoenix’s smirk fostered into a broad simper as she jostled open the main entrance doors, a cacophony of drunken exclaims and eighties music spilling out into the humid Californian air. 

The languid spin of ceiling fans brandished fleeting relief to the heat that crawled against their skin as they walked into the measly crowd that mingled beneath the recumbent lights. From within the swarm of locals adorned in their casual attire, it wasn’t a task to spot the throng of aviators that had colonized one of Penny’s pool tables, a round of Coors Lights stanced on an adjacent table. 

By the grace of keen senses or pure coincidence, Jake peered up from meticulously lining up his cue, tilting his head towards her with a gleam of his sharp smirk.

“Hotspur and Phoenix, ‘bout damn time you two showed up,” he beckoned, haphazardly angling himself against the height of his cue stick, “Can stick the tab on one of you now.” 

His glance then lingered on her for a drawn moment, Phoenix’s blunt scoff secondary to how Y/N rolled her eyes, a horridly suppressed smile betraying the gesture of irritation. 

“I’ll grab us our usuals, you should go over and save Bob,” she murmured to Phoenix with a lax cadence of amusement for the bespectacled young man that sat at a booth behind the pool table, pinched expression conceding that he’d rather be anywhere but here whilst tinkering with the straw in his soda.

“From them or his own world of misery?” Phoenix quipped in the midst of shifting her arm out from the crook of her own before moving to trek the meager distance to the cluster of pilots. 

Y/N adjusted her aviators into the rear pocket of her trousers whilst she then traipsed up to the counter, the concave edge jabbing into her rib cage as she poised her elbows unto the sleek, cold surface. 

“You, my dear, were very much missed,” Penny stated as she maneuvered the corner behind the counter with Phoenix’s and hers beverages of choice, supple, oval droplets of condensation dribbling onto Y/N’s hands as she accepted them. The older woman gestured with her chin towards the ashen-blonde and sun-kissed man that observed her while easing his beer against the curl of his lips, “Practically ogling the door every time the bell went off, waiting to see if it was you that came through. He’s whipped.” 

Penny’s awareness of their marriage was a consequence of a series of unfortunate events; an evening where Y/N 一 a relentless chatterbox when drunk, at least in the beliefs of the entire squadron 一 had wobbled up to Penny, asking through a string of hiccuped giggles for another Coors Light for her husband. 

“Your husband?” the tawny-haired woman indulged the younger woman’s drunken musings. 

“Yeah,” Y/N professed with a hiccup, dredging her hand beneath the tailored collar of her uniform, and in a rather crude motion, presenting a silver chain necklace with a diamond ring swaying from it. Before the single-syllable question of “who” could leave Penny’s thoughts, Y/N supplied the answer with a finger pointing dazedly at Hangman. 

“Seems like you were entertained, though,” Y/N chided, a tiny smirk pulling on her face as Penny tweaked off the caps of their drinks with an opener. 

“Entertained? But I just got here,” the two women begrudgingly turned their heads towards the drawled voice, some churn of vexation already festering within their expressions as the conceited man bolstered himself against the counter. 

“Drinking all by yourself, beautiful?” he delved further into the inescapable pit of shitty wisecrackers, projecting a stifling ambience that proclaimed superiority by virtue of his birth.

“Maybe you should so you can work on some better one liners,” Y/N deadpanned, partly gesturing the neck of one of the bottles towards him whilst steadying a step further of distance between them. 

“Sharp-tongued,” the man tsked, essentially smacking his own tongue against the arch of the top of his mouth. The aforementioned step of security was forsaken as he ventured forward, “Bet that tongue gets you far in the Navy.” 

Her face flushed remarkably in the faint light brought on by the window littering in daylight, a tick of a clench in her jaw. Though there was an absence of an explicit remark, his words suggested enough as to what he was implying. 

“Farther than you,” in her cruel attempt to inflict a good cut into this man’s esteemed ego, something — his hand — heaved her abruptly forward by the wrist, the drinks sloshing forth from its glass confines in her own clasp.

“Hey!” Penny struck an effort to dissuade the man, extending a hand to his shoulder in vain as he fluidly stepped out from the length of her grasp. 

Y/N’s gaze was alike in sharpness, nearly a knife, and challenged his own. She then attempted to twist around furiously so she could push him away for the security of distance, a thwarted endeavor as his fingers acutely pressed into the flesh of her forearm. 

“You should be glad that it’s as busy as it is right now — that people are watching,” he essentially growled in nearness to her face, the caustic aroma of vodka fanning across the frustrated crimson of her cheeks.  

“Nah, you should be,” Jake’s voice was uncannily composed as he was, in a moment, closer to him, albeit dimly intoxicated. He sternly shoved the man away from Y/N, who hastily wrenched her wrist from his grasp, lightly recoiling when Phoenix’s hand then eased onto her shoulder in consolation. 

Jake was an ample extent taller than this other man, yet the stark contrast in height inflicted nominal restraint in his harassment as he ineptly bustled Jake’s hands from his shoulders. 

“Just because you got your fancy, tailored uniform with all your awards and shit, ain’t mean you can waltz up and interfere with my business,” his response was clear of his razor blade patience and the pair of men were simultaneously now a clusterfuck of pissed off emotions. 

“I can when I’m her husband,” Jake was glowering at him now, eyes searing holes into his soul, upending the collar of his polo within his fist.

“I’m sorry, her what?” Phoenix murmured with incredulity, and Y/N promptly decided then that she’d rather imagine that the calamitous duo of alcohol and pride hadn’t just doomed their military careers, thus she disregarded the other woman’s bewildered whisper from behind her. 

“You let your wife mingle out here all on her lonesome?” the man mustered out from the taut grip that was fastened onto his shirt. 

Y/N eyed the frustrated clench of Jake’s stern jaw, damn near prepared to give this man the beating of his life. 

In the thin-ice silence that then sheathed bitterly over them, Jake’s shallow breaths were shards of glass and she spoke to the man before he could throttle the spindly twenty-something. 

“If I wasn’t here, you’d be a bloody pulp on the ground, asshole. You’re not even worth the effort of a fight,” she lowly uttered with taunting underlies of smug, shrugging off the dainty clasp on her shoulder from Phoenix as to level her glance with that of the man’s inferno glare. She then shifted her weight to solely face her husband, “Just let him go, Jake.” 

The dirty blonde’s fury rolled off him in tidal waves, a furnace in the midst of a rather enthralled ensemble of patrons, knuckles flushed with a potent white against the navy cloth of the man’s shirt, “You should be fucking glad that she’s a better person than you are 一 then both of us 一 because I’d otherwise gladly break your nose against this counter for touching her.”

With evident reluctance, he relinquished the cinch on the polo’s collar and spared no delicacy with propelling him more or less onto his ass in the direction of the exit. A paper-like pressure on his clenched fist roused him to reality, away from his mind that gnawed with too many emotions and too much alcohol, and away from the man that essentially scrambled out through the oak doors. 

A dense proximity was between them now, a sensory overload kindled by the fluster of the circumstances, and an intense stare bridged between their eyes. She heeded the blush that crept up her neck whilst she beckoned for them to go outside. Anything to staunchly elude the questioning and confounded glimpses of their entire squadron that had poised themselves against the counter, thoroughly engrossed. 

Yet, as she promptly shifted to pursue a curt exit, he leaned forward and pressed his lips onto hers with tenacity bred from his stupor of alcohol. His chest heaved against the other’s, a hand touching her blush-stricken cheek. Her breath almost instantaneously steadied with the delicate contact against the flush of her skin, even as it was fleeting as he pulled away with a few moments spared to the kiss. 

“We can go outside but there won’t be much talking,” Jake mumbled against the shell of her ear, a tentative shiver pouring over her spine at the warm breath flittering across her hairline, it vanishing just as abruptly as it manifested as he then nearly collapsed against her shorter stature with a muffled grouse. 

“Because you’ll be too occupied with emptying your stomach on the floor of the truck,” Y/N tantalized as he absentmindedly tinkered with the kink of a ringlet brushing her forehead teasingly from her tailored bun. 

“You need help with your big drunk baby?” Phoenix joined Y/N at her side with her arms nonchalantly posed against her chest, casting a sidelong, indifferent glimpse towards the giddily murmuring blonde that subtly swayed about. 

“Yeah or he’ll faceplant in the parking lot,” she hummed, easing an arm around a half of his midsection whilst Phoenix reluctantly mimicked the action for the remaining half. 

“Can’t go ruining his pretty boy face,” Phoenix bantered softly as they clumsily started towards the exit, their lopsided steps eluding the others’ feet by some fortune. 

“That’s the closest you’ve ever come to complimenting me….maybe you aren’t such a priss,” Jake tsked with a curl of a smirk, hazily tilting his head towards her as she rolled her eyes. 

“This is who you chose to marry?” 

“You and I both know that there’s fucking worse men I could have chosen, Nix.”

[lemonhemlock]

i keep seeing so many wildly different takes on the tomshiv fight so i'm gonna throw in my two cents. prefacing by saying that i do really think there is little point in trying to count how many blows one of them struck against the other bc ultimately this was a relationship that was dishonest and mismatched from the get-go. similarly, it's relatively pointless to argue over which character in this show is "more awful" than the other bc they're all arseholes, so i guess the best way for everyone to make a distinction is to just go by your personal benchmark of annoyance. people have different thresholds for what they consider annoying behaviour and rate social transgressions via an individual hierarchy. so, for some people, shiv's cheating might be a bigger infraction than tom's betrayal and so on. but these different reactions ultimately reflect the commentator's sensibilities; they are not meant to be reflective of a universal, immutable truth.

that being said, i personally am leaning more towards tom's side of the argument. he has just spent an entire evening witnessing his wife demean him repeatedly (not a solitary incident or a joke gone wrong) to his guests in his own house and hearing about how he's going to get fired (news to him). he's sleep-deprived and is going to have a very busy and long day tomorrow since it's election day. so he tries to extricate himself from the situation and simply go to bed. i generally see tom as a slimy corporate suck-up but this was really a very composed, civilized reaction. he repeatedly tries to pacify shiv and disengages but she keeps needling him bc she is suddenly regretting her own schemes. she complains that she's betraying her family for this as if it wasn't her idea in the first place - no one was forcing her to go through with it at any point. her plot was so half-baked that it turns out she threw her husband under the bus in front of their guests for nothing, as "a tactical joke". i mean?? i feel like tom is in the right to point out her hypocrisy and extreme privilege here.

so far i think that most people would agree with what i've said, but the thing that i think sets this apart a little is that this is classic shiv behaviour. she repeatedly disregards tom's feelings and situation and minimizes his problems in favour of her own. so tom being upset by her agreeing with the firing rumour is immediately brushed aside because the REAL problem here is that shiv's plot is gonna fail and she's gonna lose against ken and rome. which isn't actually a real problem anyway because she's going to be rich AF no matter what.

i will diverge now from the generally-accepted takes and say that tom pretty much clocks shiv's behaviour but, while she does spell out some truths about him, part of what she says are delusions and projections. tom does impart some hard-hitting truths like calling her broken, not a good person to have children or incapable of love. these things are not false and they are also not insults. i really don't get why so many are saying he is insulting shiv. these are observations based on her own (repeated) behaviour.

whereas she doesn't really respond in kind, i feel. shiv is the one who throws insults at him, calling him a hick and insulting his entire family by labeling them striving and parochial. these are also crouched in classism and made all the more ridiculous by the fact that tom's mother is a well-respected lawyer so "parochial" is truly a delusional word to use in this context, which goes to show how extreme shiv's billionaire privilege is. in return, tom doesn't insult her family and actually chooses the reasonable reply of "that's not a fair characterisation". the part about tom's mother loving shiv more is, again, complete fabrication. so is the part about TOM being the reason she didn't speak to her father for the last six months of his life. shiv is well within her rights to be upset tom revealed her plans to logan, but even if he hadn't, logan would have still been massively pissed at her and her brothers and they STILL would have been estranged.

again, maybe this is just me, but calling someone broken is not an insult, while calling some pathetic is? shiv goes on to tell him that she never loved him and doesn't even like him and he never even "deserved" her, which are hard to label as anything other than cruel. even during this fight tom still tells her that he loves her? idk, man, tom has so many flaws and he is a social climber and he did become prissy bc she kept postponing having children but it feels like shiv spends the majority of this fight accusing tom of things that are not true and calling him mean names

[jamsandsuch]

i'll be honest i've been having a little of an existential crisis since getting my graduate school acceptance.

in the opening to teaching to transgress, bell hooks talks about how when she was offered tenure she fell into a spiral. and for me, i thought that getting my acceptance to my master's program would help but if anything it's only made me feel terrified that i'm doing the wrong thing with my life.

i'm a budding sociologist and kind of by nature of that my work is tied up in activism; even moreso when my entire body of research is about my diasporic community and ways to improve our standing, the histories that brought us here, the future trajectory of our community. growing up with crippling anxiety, i've strayed away from having strong opinions, from upsetting anyone too much. growing up as a southeast asian immigrant, i strayed away from being noticed too much at all. academica offered me that space to form those opinions, and i think there was some power in that: for once i was encouraged and even rewarded for my years of quiet observation and the pent up rage and injustice i've locked away in response. naturally, academia became my safe space and i decided to pursue grad school and a career in academia. but as i see myself moving forward, i increasingly realize that as a person of color in academia, especially with the particular subject matter i've chosen for myself, i kind of need to step into that spotlight i've been so afraid of. and especially when those opinions will carry so much political weight, so much responsibility, those anxieties i've carried with me since i was little, that unfamiliarity with being seen is weighing down on me so much and i feel like i'm suffocating.

a few months ago i attended an event in my diasporic community hosted by a local activist group. they were extremely supportive and interested in my research and asked for more insight into what research like mine looks like. at the time my study was still in ethics board purgatory so i didn't have much progress to share with them, which i understandably lamented about. one of the members, who shared with me previously how they had been disillusioned by academia and thus dropped out, remarked as I outlined all the bureaucratic barriers that exist in academia: "You see that's the problem - I could go out into the neighbourhood and ask people those questions right now, put them together, distribute leaflets or organize a rally, and it would all happen so much faster and without this red tape." at the time i only agreed - mostly because i first read this as sympathizing with my academic exhaustion - but recently i've been revisiting those words as a question about if i'm really doing the right thing with my life, bigger questions about the purpose of my work more generally.

last week i attended an incredible talk by a journalist visiting from my home country who documents the human rights abuses happening domestically. as a qualitative researcher, and particularly as an urban/community sociologist, i was interested in the subject of her talk which was pertaining to building community through journalism. i was wondering if i may be able to 1) learn more about my country's politics and 2) learn more about how my work might facilitating community building. but what i walked away with was a growing discomfort in my stomach as that activist's words returned to me during that talk - this journalist was doing admirable, incredibly valuable work. the work was timely. it was immediate. it was influential. then what of my work? i've been working on my undergraduate thesis for eight months. this week alone i've spent over twelve hours hunched at my desk painstakingly transcribing interviews for analysis. and for what? to present at an undergraduate conference? to have it tossed into a sea of uncited papers? at the end of the talk a professor raises her hand to ask how academia and journalism can partner together to work towards a common goal. the speaker's response was geared towards the support they've received from quantitative researchers' data. as a qualitative researcher, what makes me different from a journalist besides a fancy university title and years' worth of institutional bureaucratic barriers my work must pass before publication? and beyond that, will it ever even be cited at all? i hoped to speak to the speaker afterward with my question, but they promptly had to leave. i walked back home and stared at my wall for a while.

two weeks ago one of my classes i teach for hosted a panel with activists from various diaspora. one student raises their hand and asks if one panelist, an iranian woman, feels afraid about the possibility of being targeted and killed for her activist work to which she calmly responds that she is expecting it. i feel a chill go down my spine as i wonder if i should be that selfless too. later during office hours a student shares with me that he's starting a project in partnership with an activist group to make critical race theory and asian diasporic history accessible beyond the ivory tower to laypeople. i wonder if i should be doing that too. with every moment i stand in front of these folks i feel like i'm standing up against everything that my work is not doing. i should be making this work accessible. i should be making this work faster. i should be ready to die in defense of my work. this guilt chokes me like a noose and with every moment i spend lying awake in bed thinking about it i string myself up higher like a flag for the world to laugh at. look at me, another useless scholar with impostor syndrome.

when it comes to the kind of work i do, i recognize that academia without activism is nothing short of ego boosting and extraction. and yet at the same time we're asked to somehow distance ourselves from political opinions so as to maintain the objectivity of our work. when i see the advocacy work done by fellow students on campus, i increasingly feel like a phoney intellectualizing work that's happening in real time on the ground that myself and my colleagues are removed from. this and my years of anxiety, and the fear around activism generated by being raised by parents from a country that has targeted academics for their politically provocative work have concocted the perfect storm of existential crisis, paranoia, guilt, and a deep seated desire to disappear. i feel useless in my work, helpless in my desire to be a part of an activist scene, and hopeless about my impact as a human being all at once. cue a pathetic image of some tortured scholar locked away in an ivory tower wiping their tears with sheets of gold leaf or something while the world burns outside. woe is me.

i brought these thoughts (or at least these thoughts as they were half baked) to one of my professors previously and he told me that i need to stop thinking. that i need to focus on what's immediately important to me: finish my thesis. get my bachelors degree. so this week during my midterm break i tried, i really did. i dove back into my old hobbies. engaged in some self care by spending time with my friends, exploring the city. and as i've done so i've realized - i'm so happy. so, so happy to be doing my hobbies. and that's just left me increasingly wondering if i'll ever claw my way out of this hole i've dug for myself: when I look at my instructors around me i see their work life balance wrecked. i see their unsustainable salaries despite all the incredible work they do and all the extra time they sank into their extra years of education (i recently learned that the published faculty salaries in our university's financial report are actually inflated, so the salaries are in fact much worse than I was led to believe and believe me, my expectations were already low - and this is at a T40). i wish i was kidding when i say that there are instructors i've known that began teaching during my first year and who i've slowly watched have the light drained out of their eyes over the last three years.

is this my destiny? to forever feel this way? to sink years of my life earning poverty wages as a TA and RA, delaying when i will finally settle down, sinking my family's money into a education for a job that won't make that money back unless by some miracle i land a tenure track position out of my phd? and all that knowing that there's a shortage of jobs for the number of phds in my field? and all of this knowing that there are folks out there doing work that's actually on the pulse of what's going on, more timely, and without the hierarchical nature of academic research?

do i think i'm going to find any of the answers i'm looking for right now? probably not. but i just feel the shadow of my future looming over me as i'm committing to grad school and i don't know what to do about it. i wake up every morning with a weight on my chest and when i think about it i can't breathe. maybe bell hooks really is a lot more relatable than i thought.

[lightlycareless]

omgggg, that Toji x reader (*plus* Naoya) was incredibleee, ignore me if you want, I know you made Toji chosing to keep distance from reader and Megumi permanently BUT what if one day he ends up finally seeing Megumi, either personally or by pictures/videos 🥺 We know Megumi it's the spitted image of him, I mean, Gojo's face when he saw him for the first time said it all 😅 And also knowing his baby has the Ten Shadows technique (I cant stop thinking about how proud he was in the canon manga/anime 🥺 he always KNEW from the start Megumi was blessed/gifted, since his first breath, the fact Toji named him is not random) making the entire Zenin clan eat their shit

Heya anon!!

I'm so glad you liked it heheheheheheh a oneshot that I didn't intend to write but it just happened!! aren't we glad it did? lol

I didn't mean to ignore you, I was only focusing on other things first 😅 oof, I still have lots of request to go through, which I plan to do it slowly but surely...

Anyways, I might've not gone down that route, however... why not something angsty? I mean 😏I've had this in my mind so... yeah 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Warnings: mentions of infidelity. Pregnancy. Naoya is, unfortunately, a prick. this is the oneshot anon is talking about. 100% read that first hehe. this is an AU from that, so the second part doesn't count??? I guess. excuse the proofreading. also I haven't written toji that much so please excuse my oocness as well ahahahahha :')

Happy reading!

As much as the three hoped to ignore the bases of your pregnancy, behave as it didn’t rise from an adulterous act, a direct transgression to the principles of the Zen’in, and keep it a secret, it wouldn’t take long before the guilt in each other’s mind began to weight heavy on their mind, ultimately betraying them and revealing the truth to the light, excusing the angered elders to finally get rid of two birds with one stone.

“Where—Where does this accusation even come from?!” You gasp, blood turning cold at the implication—at the notion of the truth. “Do you know the gravity of such words?!”

“Better than you of the act, it seems.” Another accuses. “We were quite aware of the rumors surrounding your ill-fitting behavior, but we never believed it would actually extend to this point!”

“I—I won’t tolerate neither of you disrespecting me!” you cry. “Nor will Naoya for that matter!”

But calling for his aid would no longer prove sufficient, for Naoya, too deep in his own insecurities by that point, had come to the disheartening conclusion that this situation had gotten way out of hand for a simple diversion.

A supposed act of mercy.

He shouldn’t have let this happen in the first place, should’ve respected what you and your marriage represented, what meant to him, and discard his pity for Toji—the man has been alone most of his life, what difference would that make that now?

But he didn’t, he allowed you to go to Toji—no, he handed you over to him, thinking he was doing something right for his cousin, or perhaps something deep inside him was allured by the sick idea of you being with another man and now, he was suffering the consequences.

Consequences he did not like, not one bit—because it got too real for him: you were now pregnant, with Toji’s child, and not his.

And this only highlighted what he considered the pitfalls of this relationship, a strike against his ego and the supposed inability to beget children, a rumor that grew bigger and bigger by each passing day, spreading like wildfire to the point where even outsiders became aware of it.

Which, for a prideful man like Naoya, was only a nightmare.

He loved you, he really did—Naoya never envisioned spending the rest of his life with anyone else…

But he loved his pride more, and when his clan began to actively confront him about it, he couldn’t take it anymore.

And thus….

“…Naoya?”

“This marriage was broken before it even started.” Your husband would say, unexpected words that pierced straight to your heart. “My family advised me well in avoiding you, but I falsely believed I could achieve differently.”

“What—what are you even saying?” you breathe. “What do you mean by—by differently?”

And… where does everything you lived with him stand?

The time you spent with him, the sweet nothings he’d whisper into your ear, to love you both swore to one another, reminding each other that there was no one else that compares…

And that you were the only woman who has ever made him feel this way—loved— and would do everything in the world to make happy…

Was it… all … a lie?

All for… nothing?

Or were you the only one that actually believed the other’s words?

“I cannot look past these transgressions.” Naoya continues. “You’ve left me no choice.”

“But you—you made me do this!” you gasp. “I never—I never wanted to be with anyone else! All this time, my heart only belonged to you!  How could you—how could you abandon me after all we’ve gone through together?!”

Naoya doesn’t say anything else anymore, instead, he simply turns around, exiting the room to leave you in the hands of the vengeful elders who did not hesitate to do what they had long desired—banish you from the estate.

Swiftly yet cruelly, you wouldn’t be able to take anything with you, not even a change of clothes or even money (you didn’t even ask for much, just enough to survive the week) as you were forced to face a new life of your own—alone, pregnant.

Going back to your family was also out of the question; the shame that you’d bring upon their name was one the Zen’in didn’t not waste time to remind them of—at the end, there was only so much your father and siblings could do against the invasive ways of the elders, and perhaps, a part of them deep inside, were also disappointed that you’ve succumbed to such foul thing.

And so, you were tossed onto the street, with nothing more than the clothes you were wearing, whatever you had for savings throughout the years, managed to take it out before either clan could close your account—but most importantly, with a broken heart you believe will never heal, not after the grave wound your husband’s indifference inflicted on it.

The pain you couldn’t even mourn properly due to all the things you had to worry about now.

The first thing you did was search for a place to stay, though getting one was proving to be an almost impossible task.

Thankfully, you were allowed to keep one other thing, maybe it eluded their minds when all this was happening, but you’re not going to question why when it was going to help you pay for a roof.

Naoya’s ring, your wedding ring, was something many would consider expensive, the kind of flashiness expected from a prestigious family like the Zen’in.

You remember a time when any kind of ring would’ve been enough for you to marry him. You didn’t need anything extraordinary to commit your life and heart to him.

That’s nothing but a far cry from what you felt now.

It still hurt to pawn it, but it was the only way you could accommodate yourself and the unborn child inside you, in the only area you could afford with what you got, for even then many suspected that your ring… well, had dubious origins.

When was the last time you even had to worry about the costs of living? Food, clothes, water…?

Many years—it had to; ever since you got together with Naoya, he’s been the one that took care of you.

You just had to say the word and he’d disappear all of your worries—even from the simplest of wants, Naoya indulgingly obliged.

It was a happy life you eventually considered for your child—imagining how happy they’d grow to be without a single worry, solely focusing on what they’ll have to play that day, or how to escape their over doting parents.

A long-gone dream, tossed to the side as a nightmare quickly took its place.

…

Did Naoya ever mean the words I love you?

Or was he doing all this just to keep you there, complying, just in case someone better came along, just like his clan wished would happen?

There mere thought of his devotion being nothing but an act tightens your heart with sorrow once more, gifting you the tragic notion that perhaps, all this time, you never knew your husband…

Maybe ex-husband, by this point.

All that was left from those moments, the slightest semblance of that marriage was this baby, created from what you thought your unconditional devotion to him, turning out to be your very own downfall.

The only one that would know of these struggles would be your baby, the one to accompany you through the darkest point of your life, hopefully to a brigther dawn.

And yet… you’ve never felt so alone.

Time surprisingly, went quicker than you anticipated, though not as easy as you would’ve wanted.

Life in your new home was still very difficult to get used to, even when it’s been months since… that.

But with the job you managed to get (whatever place hired pregnant women—they’re supposed to be at home, some would say, you didn’t care.) and some extra jujutsu work you did on the side, you managed, enough to give you a, not exactly comfortable, but just enough lifestyle.

As long as you sacrificed all the things you once considered granted and turned them into luxuries: such as warm showers, take out, and the sweets you liked to indulge once in a while; your pregnancy has been horrible because of that, and that’s without considering the medical bills you’re struggling to pay as well.

But if that wasn’t enough, your noisy neighbors presented issues of their own as well.

You’re not going to deny that your presence there was like moths to a flame, starting from your somewhat suspicious acquisition—all cash—of the small house you were living in.

From there, your loneliness, alongside your pregnancy; single mothers were unheard of, or rather, highly criticized, thus, all eyes were on you, down to your smallest movement.

Yet, even then, as annoying as they were, you were ok as long as it meant you never get to see those that hurt you ever again.

However, what you want isn’t necessarily what’s going to happen, and that would be reminded of one fateful night with an unsuspecting knock, just after you were getting ready to go to bed.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone came to bother you, but it would be the first time someone did so at this hour, and with such insistence that far from worrying you, it made you angrily storm at the entrance, ready to demand who’d be so inconsiderate enough to visit you so late at night!

And you’d get your answer soon enough, in the most shocking, horrifying, if not sorrowful manner you could’ve possibly anticipated, prompting you to close the door as soon as you saw his face, or attempted to, his reflexes much faster than yours.

“Get—get away from me!” you shrieked, hands trembling as you did your best to hold the door shut against his overwhelming strength— but even your husband has admitted that in terms of power, he excels like no one else.

“Y/N—” he breathes, somewhat amused that you’d been able to hold him off as much as you could, though eventually he was able to break free from your grasp and enter your home, you step away from him soon after.

“What are you even doing here?!” you gasp. “No—that doesn’t matter! I don’t want to see you! I’m not going back!”

“I’m not here to take you back” He quickly responds, eyes falling down to your stomach, making his face soften at the subtle bump evident through your clothes—with this sight, he knows he can’t take you back.

“Then—then why are you here, Toji?”

Perhaps Toji needed to see through his own eyes, what the whispers went on about at the estate regarding your absence.

He wasn’t there when it happened, promised himself to be far away from you as soon as your pregnancy was announced to the estate.

Toji would’ve normally taken this opportunity to act on retribution against his family, rub it on their face that the future of the clan came from him, a low life.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so when you cheerfully paraded around the halls, happy to finally be forming a family with your beloved husband, even though it wasn’t of his making.

For the first time in his life, he thought himself to be too cruel for having planned such atrocities against the only person that has never been rude with him, always welcoming him with a smile on your face, or at least whatever you permitted when not following Naoya around like a lost puppy.

And the baby… well, he won’t deny that he was glad that his child would have a vastly different life from his—with you as his mother, it couldn’t be any other way.

Or so he believed.

Even when promising to keep away, he still attempted to check in on you, especially now that you were pregnant, whenever he had to go to the estate that is. That day was no be no exception, begrudgingly coming back to see what else he could scam out of his family to ensure his living outside.

Toji’s slyly scanned the hallways for your figure, the briefest indication of such, either through your giggle, staff, or even his cousin’s annoying voice—there were moments where he imagined how delightful it must’ve been to have you by his side, instead of Naoya’s; to be receiver of your laughter instead of that man who clearly didn’t deserve you.

But even if it was with him, he still found comfort in the fact that you were around, there.

Not like now, gone from Naoya’s side.

In fact, you were nowhere to be seen! Not with your staff, not eating by the gardens, or even indulging in one of your husband’s idiocies.

Nothing.

And no one had seen you either.

Or more like didn’t want to say, that much became evident when he stomped his way towards a nearby staff member, demanding your whereabouts, only to be responded with a fret falsely feigning ignorance, or foolish diplomacy.

At the prospect of your disappearance, Toji felt his blood run cold, almost like the estate lost whatever little warmth it had, worsening each time he asked another servant, and he’d get the same answer.

The implications behind your absence were growing heavier in his mind, to the point it sunk his heart to his stomach…

And propelled him to the one person who would undoubtedly know where you were.

“Naoya—Where is Y/N?!” Toji commands the moment he sees the heir, the young man instinctively flinched at the sight of his angered cousin, almost as if he knew what was running through his mind and attempted to make a run for it, only to be stopped by the collar, dead on his tracks. “Do not run away, coward! Answer me!”

“She’s—she’s not here anymore.” Is what Naoya manages to squeak, but Toji doesn’t need to be reminded the obvious.

“Where. Is. She.” He hisses, the worst of his assumptions slowly becoming a reality. “What have you done to her?!”

“What—what needed to be done!” Naoya gasps. “I—I couldn’t allow it!”

Toji doesn’t remember much after Naoya told him that the clan decided she was better off on her own—only that the heir was on the floor, bloodied and whimpering while attempting to cover his face, either trying to control the throbbing of his skin, the blood from spilling anywhere else, or perhaps even shame.

No. It couldn’t be the last. To have done something like what he did required a shameless man to do so.

Nonetheless Toji didn’t bother to find out nor to be reprimanded, quick to assert what needed to be done and heading out the estate; he couldn’t even bother cursing those that had done nothing but the worst after the worst, each time a new low, for his mind solely pertained in finding you.

It took him a while to do so, as expected, but he knew it was only a matter of asking around for a woman that simply didn’t fit to do the job—and such, here he is now.

“I want—needed to see you.” Toji takes a step closer.

“Get—get away from me.”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“You were fine doing that before—what’s so different from now?” You spat.

“This is different, Y/N. You’re alone—and you need me.”

“I’m not alone—I don’t need you.” You gasp. “Get away from me or I’ll—I’ll call the police!.”

“If you don’t need me, then the baby does.”

It’s like he struck a nerve with his words, because soon after tears would begin to fall down your cheeks, revealing that the sight you attempted to portray, the strength you so fiercely put up against him, was nothing but a façade, a way to hide the fact that indeed, you needed help.

Exhausted from facing all these uncertainties on your own, afraid.

But not anymore, not when Toji was here, more than willing to step in, as seen in the way he swiftly holds you in his arms when he sees you almost faint from distress, attempting to comfort you as you continued to cry.

“Get— get away from me…!” you’d say again, still fighting against his hold. However, he doesn’t fight it, he simply allows you to vent, taking in all the pain and hatred your heart harbored from the moment you were kicked out of the estate. “Don’t touch me!”

“I’m not leaving” Toji insists, he feels you trying to squirm your way out from him, but his strength doesn’t allow it. “You can struggle all you want, but I’m not leaving you on your own—”

“What difference does it make to you? Your family abandoned me to my luck! And even forced my family to do the same!” you breathe, Toji’s eyes widen—he did not know that; his fury for the Zen’in grows, but this is not the time to deal with that. “They don’t care if I die on the street!”

“I know.” He murmurs, holding you tighter against him.

“And I—And I tried my best to—to move on, but I can’t! I can’t do it!” you sob. “I’m so alone, and scared, and—and ashamed! I don’t want to live like this anymore!! I don’t want to die!”

“…I know.”

“Why—why is this happening to me?! All I ever wanted was for—was for Naoya to love me. I never wanted anything else! I never wanted money, I never wanted to hurt anyone either! I just—I just wanted to live a happy life with him, to make him happy!

But then he—he tossed me away, at one thing he didn’t like, he acted like I didn’t even matter! He didn’t even put up a fight to defend me! he just—he just let them hurt me, like what we had was—a lie!

 Did he never—did he even love me?”

Speechless, all Toji could do is continue holding you as you kept on pouring out your feelings, hearing the heart wrenching sound of your sobs that just kept reflecting how wounded you were by Naoya’s betrayal, the transgressions of his family, and the disappointment of yours.

And all because of something you didn’t even suggest in the first place. It was him who made his way into Naoya’s mind, and eventually, it was Naoya who pushed you into it, regardless of what happened later.

He wanted to do it; you know?

He wanted to go back there and murder them for all they’d done against you.

But when he left that place one last time, he promised he would stop thinking about himself, and start doing what is right—what was needed.

If Naoya wasn’t to step up and be a man, then he would.

Toji would gladly throw away his own pride, his own anger and thirst for vengeance, just to see you safe and happy once more.

Things your husband, could simply not—but he… he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“I promise you.” Toji would reassure you once carefully placing you down to the bed after tiring yourself from crying, followed by a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

 “I swear, Y/N— I will not let my family do the same things they’ve done to me to our child. Even if it costs me my life, I will do everything in my power to keep the two of you safe.”

And unlike your husband, he means it.

Yes, a second part is coming :) just gotta put this one out first hehe.

Anyways, it's not exactly what you asked but I think it's going there??? I mean Toji STEPPED UP and was like OK imma take care of my baby mama. also, here Naoya .I. put it where it fits. ugh, can't say we're done with him...

agihajkgksa I'm excited for what's to come, I haven't written this level of angst in a while!! oof!!!

Thank you so much for your patience and for sending this ask :> I'm super happy you've like my oneshot so much!! I hope you'll be able to like this too!!

Take care, and see you soon! ❤️❤️

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 1

Propaganda Under Cut

Allura

Lots of people (myself included tbh) ship klance (Keith and Lance). In s8 the creators made Allura/Lance canon (but then they killed her off and left the ending ambiguous it was weird). Anyway the fandom treats her like she's the most terrible bitchy woman ever but all she wants to do is end the war and avenge her destroyed home planet. Yeah she wasn't always the nicest or always the best, but you could argue some other characters in the show aren't either and they aren't treated near as bad as allura. people really just hate her bc Lance liked her. I don't think allura/lance are good together, but I still liked her as a character and thought she was interesting and had a lot of growth during the show. she DEF is not evil like some people portray her as in fic or talk about her in captions on posts. I've seen people say that they HATE her and that she's the worst and I'm like ??? let her live (well sort of ig she is dead now). lots of fic writers use her as the villain which is so interesting to me bc the show literally has villains like use them. anyway allura so perfectly fits the bracket description she deserves better.

I hate to acknowledge my time in this fandom but I hate the way the fandom treated her more. Allura was treated like shit no matter what side of the Great Ship War you were on because she was always a threat to the biggest ships (klance and sheith). At best she got put into Background Lesbian or Consolation Prize Shallura (Space Mom-zoned) (She was not a motherly figure btw. She was just Black). At worst she was violently demonized for being ~racist~ (kinda not cool with the alien race that blew up her planet for a few episodes), complete with misogynistic language hurled at her (she got called a bitch sooo much). Allura was a good and cool character and the show did her dirty but the fandom was somehow worse.

i apologise for speaking the dark magicks, but amidst the voltron fandoms many, many transgressions, there were a particular subset of people who just hated this girl. the infamous klance wars of the 2010s kept this perfectly fine childrens cartoon character in the sights of shippers everywhere, and she (and her voice actress im sure) were subjected to years of petty squabble blown up to global perportions. ive seen hate, ive seen rants, ive seen fanfics that made her homophobic. girls been through the ringer, and even though voltron was never the show its fandom wanted it to be, i believe allura deserved better

Kayano Kaede

shes genuinely a really tragic character who had potential for a really compelling, effective arc concerning grief, identity, healing, and finding trust again all while going through the inherent ordeal of being 15 years old….if she werent a female character in a shonen anime 😭😭 instead she gets sidelined during the show up until her big plot twist reveal after which shes immediately sidelined again. whatever i still love her and know her to be a character of all time who has suffered more than jesus. in my experience shes perhaps the female character who like. ive seen most *obsessively* hated due to her “getting in the way” of the ship b/w the male protagonist + deuteragonist (bc of her proximity to the both of them) u woild think shes the devil incarnate and not just. 15 and traumatised 

She had a crush on Nagisa and they kissed and a lot of fans ship him with Karma so theyre mad that Kaede is there. She is super silly and nice but the fandom hates her for standing in the way of karmagisa.

she's a sweet person that was an actor and loves her sister. she is the main love interest of the main character but doesn't interact with him more than most of the other characters for a majority of the story. Often I have seen them removed from the story only to become some homophobic jerk that's desperate for the main characters love instead of letting her keep the good friendship that her and the main character had before the romance.

[deviiancetv]

The Misconception of Doja Cat (Controversy & Era Analysis)

Heyyoo, so this post is going to be a smaller version of a bigger analysis video I plan to make in the near future about Doja Cat’s Scarlet album. I’ll be sharing my thoughts when it comes to Doja Cat, her recent Scarlet era, the controversies that have followed, as well as how I think she could’ve been conceptualized this era.

There will be a video that comes along with this post some time in the future on my channel, so follow me on YouTube ≫ deViianceTV

In the meantime, let’s talk briefly about this Scarlet era. The themes, concept, and messaging + what I would’ve fixed if I was in the room with her

Scarlet is an album that thematically is about Doja creating this alter ego to be used as a way to lash out at her haters and people who wanted her to fit in a box that critics placed her in. A scarred starlet rebelling against the public eye and people’s perceptions of her.

The concept is a bloodied version of Doja’s alter ego, Scarlet, who symbolizes the bruised and broken version of her that is being reborn into someone confident, tapping into her inner creativity, esoteric intrigue, and embracing her natural beauty.

There are MANY things from this era that I would fix such as making this era a dynamic story of self-discovery through visual and sonic versatility. One example I would’ve loved is, if she had split this album into two separate pieces of art that bounce off one another in themes and symbolic representation. The first side of the album having dark horror Punk/Rave Rap elements, odes to video games and horror movies she likes. The other side having sultry R&B elements with a lighter tone of inner peace as she accepts her more melodic and jazz roots.

I don’t take Doja as much of a lyricist all the time. She has instances when she can be very witty with fun bars that have pop culture references, and double entendres, but she’s not overly lyrical in her songs. She should’ve taken more time on this project to better compile and write her songs with formatting structures and great analogies that have you think… instead, we essentially got her venting about how rich she is and how she was being attacked online. And then there’s the butter toast line which was just not good lol.

Honestly, another thing that ruined this era is the fact that there were too many controversies involving the time she dissed her fans, her romantic relationship with J Cyrus, and her self-identity issues that have plagued her career since she became mainstream. A lot of these things could’ve been handled better, had she not lashed out on social media, and showcased the cracks within her character. She is to blame for the many times she’s been canceled, by not growing and evolving or even holding herself accountable for her transgressions.

I may be overly critical of her, but that’s because I KNOW she can do so much better, than what she’s given us. I’m hopeful that the next era will be more developed, thought-out, and less drama-filled, focusing on just the music, with standalone videos. Doja IS meant a bonafide star, but Scarlet is a bloodstain on her discographic career… an aesthetically pleasing bloodstain, but still a bloodstain nonetheless.