#problematic calls

[comkin]

THIS IS A PRO/COMSHIP/KIN SAFE SPACE. DISCRETION IS ADVISED AT INTERACTION.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Everything is under the cut! (There's a lot to scroll past)

This is a source calling blog! It is directed for kins, fictives and IRLs alike who may have problematic memories or sources.

This blog provides:

Source calling ; Searching for source mates. - Template will be added at the end of this post. This MUST be followed.

Confessions ; Source/Memory confessions. - These can be used to just get something off your chest, however if you want to rant/vent put TWs/CWs and a vent warning.

Stimboards ; 3 by 3 GIF post based on one theme. - Please be specific! It can be character, source or ship based! Feel free to request something I haven't mentioned, it may be denied though.

Playlists ; you want some bangers with a theme? — State what you're looking for, vibes, theme, genre, and what you may not want! If you do not specify you do not want smooth jazz you are at the mercy of smooth jazz for example!

Classpecting ; Class + Aspect in a Homestuck sense — ever wondered what yours would be? Give us some details on how you handle situations, who you are as a person ( fictive / kin / etc. ), etc. etc. !

Pendulum Readings ; yes or no? — Ask your yes or no question and we will ask one of the pendulums!

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CURRENT SLOTS OPEN: 5/5

RULES

#1 ;; Be nice! Don’t harass anyone for any reason. If you DO NOT LIKE THIS CONTENT BLOCK US. This blog is a safe space for those who identify with problematic sources and or views, antis or those who just do not agree have plenty of safe spaces and we request you DNI.

#2 ;; We accept any form of call even if it may be considered problematic. But please keep yourself safe, do not use this blog to put yourself in danger. Anonymous is RECOMMENDED but not necessary. - Not all requests on this blog have to be considered "problematic"

#3 ;; Source/fictional age gaps are A-Okay but IRL ones are NOT. Minors should only be interacting with minors and majors only with majors for safety. (Example; Body age: 19 Looking for: anyone over 18.) If ages are not in calls I will ask for resubmission or it will be deleted.

#4 ;; There is no limit on how many entries you send and you may send them one after the other (they just won't be posted at the same time). Even if you have multiple kins/etc from one source, only one will be tagged. (On the note of tagging, all problematic calls will be tagged as such so they will not meet a super wide audience - this is for the comfort of others and safety of you)

#5 ;; All questions, requests, and calls may be asked in the ask box! Because other people may have similar questions.

Calls should be sent in Asks using the following template.

CALLS;;

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[sukibenders]

Whether you feel what Shauna did to Mari holds racial implications or not, it's not your place to harass or belittle poc fans of the show for feeling this way, dismissing how that scene made them feel. While the writers were very tone deaf and probably didn't understand the implications behind that scene, it still doesn't matter when it's coupled with how many times the show has done all their poc characters dirty. Telling poc fans that, after watching a brown girl be butchered without dignity, different from her counterparts, and have her hair taken as a trophy by a yte girl who has been antagonizing her so aggressively, they shouldn't feel uncomfortable by that or that they should just accept it because "violence is the show" is very disingenuous and misses the point. Especially when factoring how these same Shauna defenders will get up in arms for other fans wishing for her end, coming up with all the reasons why she should make it out, even though, in some of their words, "violence is the show."

[reidphobic]

trying hard not to get into trouble (but i’ve got a war in my mind) - s. r.

in which your criminology professor is just too tempting. 3359 words.

switch!spencer x switch!fem reader, questionable age gap & power dynamic, mild exhibitionism, authority kink, brief choking, praise, semi-public sex, oral (f and m receiving), mild degradation, no use of y/n

Your bare thighs stick uncomfortably to the plastic lecture hall chair, and you shift in your seat. Still, you focus diligently on the lecture, or, more specifically, on your professor. Dr. Reid is your favourite kind of challenge, a man you can’t have, the kind who won’t compromise his morals no matter how much he wants you — or, thinks he won’t.

You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on you just a second too long, flickers down to your chest before he catches himself. Toying with him is the highlight of your week, coming up with new ways to torture him, push his boundaries as far as you can before he snaps. The semester is drawing to a close, though, and you haven’t quite snared your pretty professor yet, so you’re having to resort to drastic measures.

It’s like he’s deliberately avoiding you, eyes sliding over you as if you’re not even there. You hope that means your barely-there outfit is working as intended. Dr. Reid refuses to call on you to answer a question, stuttering through his sentences and raking his hand through his unkempt curls. You wonder if they’re soft to the touch, if he likes having them pulled, if— Focus. You raise one hand, digging through your bag with the other. When his attention is finally on you, you spout off some stupid question that’s believable enough not to arouse suspicion; he sees right through it, though, knows the ruse.

Out of politeness, Dr. Reid keeps his focus on you as he speaks. His words come out rapid-fire as if he’s trying to escape you before you do any more damage. It only makes him stumble more, and his struggle is frankly adorable. His reaction as you wrap your lips around a cherry-flavoured sucker is audible, a hitch in his breath and a waver in his voice as you smile innocently around the candy. From then, he can’t take his eyes off you, watching your red-stained tongue lap at sticky sugar, fist clenching and unclenching at his side.

You’ve got him right where you want him.

Leaning back in your chair, you smirk slightly, wait to draw his attention. When he meets your gaze, you spread your legs, give him a deliberate eyeful of the tiny scrap of lace between them. At that, you physically see him snap, rail against the constraints of his moral compass, finally, gloriously give in. A thrill skitters up your spine as he stops in front of your desk. “See me after class,” he murmurs, jaw clenched.

“Yes, Professor,” you breathe, licking your lips as your thighs clench under the table.

You linger as your class lets out, carefully reapplying your lipgloss while you wait for the room to empty. When you’re finally alone, you approach his desk cautiously. “You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?” you say delicately, suddenly uncertain — you might just be in for the reprimand of your life, and that’s no fun for anyone.

“If you’ll just come with me to my office,” he says tightly, staring resolutely past you as he stands from his desk. Desire pools under your skin, your every nerve alive with tension as Dr. Reid lets you into his office. The sound of the lock clicking shut falls straight between your thighs — that’s when you know you’ve got him. You sit demurely in his armchair, legs crossed as he puts as much distance between the two of you as possible, standing across the room with his arms folded protectively across his chest. “I think we need to discuss your behaviour in my classroom.”

You smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor,” you say, putting on a wide-eyed, naive look you’re sure he won’t fall for. Unconsciously, he steps towards you. 

Dr. Reid’s gaze is unreadable. “Really? That little stunt with the sucker, I— I know what you’re doing, and it has to stop, okay?” he says, and, oh. He’s the one pleading with you.

It makes sense, once you think about it. You know he used to be an FBI agent; a dangerous, high-stress job like that, it’s no surprise he’d want to shut off, hand over the control, be taken care of, entrust his pleasure entirely to someone else. “Why would I stop?” you pout. He’s close enough now that you could reach out and touch him. “I’m having so.” You take Dr. Reid’s tie delicately between your fingers. “Much.” You pull him in gently. “Fun.” You tug sharply on his tie, hard enough that he stumbles, bracing his hands on the arms of your chair.

He lets out a shaky gasp, like he’s expecting you to unhinge your jaw and swallow him whole. “This is… The, uh…” He clears his throat. “The way you’re acting in my class is not appropriate, and it needs to stop,” he says. You’d almost call it firmly, if not for the near-imperceptible tremor in his voice.

You note that he hasn’t pulled away. “I don’t think you want me to stop, Professor,” you murmur. “I think you want me to stop teasing you, and you want me to give you what you want.” Your smile widens the longer he stays silent; searching for the words to refute you, but the lie won’t come. “Tell me what you want, Doctor Reid,” you purr.

“I can’t,” he breathes. “You aren’t… It’s not…”

“Look at me and tell me you don’t want this,” you breathe, catching his jaw so he can’t look away.

His mouth opens, but no words come out, speechless in a way you’ve never seen him. “I… I’m twenty years older than you.”

You grin. “And?”

“I’m your teacher,” he protests, nearly a whine, and oh, isn’t that a delicious sound.

“So?”

“So?” Dr. Reid repeats, incredulous. “I can’t… have sex with you in my office!” he hisses, low as if someone might be listening in.

Your grin only widens, and you pull him down towards you, so close that his breath skates across your lips. He twitches nervously, like you’re close to breaking him, like he’s this close to doing something he’ll regret. “But you want to,” you murmur, cupping his jaw and letting your fingers trace his cheekbone. “Tell me, Professor… When was the last time you had something just because you wanted it, hm?” He shudders, eyes fluttering closed. “I’ll take real good care of you, sir, I promise.”

With a strangled groan, he gives in. The kiss is sudden, harsh like he’s furious with you for pulling him in like this. Soft lips give way to sharp teeth, greedy tongues, slotting together like you were moulded for him. Your hand slides up into his hair, tangling in his curls as you kiss him harder. A moan slips from your lips when you pull away for air, and the sound seems to drive him well and truly into madness. His lips meet yours with a renewed hunger, resting a hand at your jaw when he breaks away.

Spencer (you’ve just had your tongue down his throat, for God’s sake, you’ve earned the right to call him by his first name) strokes his thumb over your bottom lip, gazing down at you with awe and disbelief written across his face. He sucks in a sharp breath when you close your lips around his thumb, lapping at it just like the sucker from earlier. “You’re trying to kill me,” he breathes.

Releasing his thumb with a slick pop, you laugh. “Is that what you think?” You stand up, press your body into his. Spencer nods warily. “You’d know. If I was trying to kill you, I’d do something like this,” you murmur, sliding your hand up his throat and pressing down softly. His eyes flutter closed in surrender, and a filthy, spit-slick grin spreads wide across your lips. “You like that? Good boy,” you say silkily, letting go of his throat as he nods. “You gonna let me take care of you, Professor?”

“Please,” Spencer gasps, and when you let your gaze wander away from his flushed face and down his body, your lips part softly at the sight of him straining against his pants. You dip your head to kiss his neck, wishing you could bruise, make him yours, but you restrain yourself.

Rough carpet grazes your knees as you sink to the floor, hands coming up to work his belt open. You kiss him through his pants, slide his zipper down with your teeth. Spencer whines, and the sound sends a pulse of arousal through you. “So needy, sir,” you croon, slowly pulling him free of his boxers. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen, thick and hard in your palm, drooling precum as you lean in to kiss the tip. The salt taste of him fills your mouth and you moan involuntarily, his hips twitching as you pump his cock slowly.

Hands thread into your hair, but the touch is gentle, reverent, born from need rather than demand. Not that you’d say no to his manhandling you, but you get the sense that’ll take some time. “If you want something, it’s polite to ask,” you tease, holding Spencer’s hips when he tries to fuck into your hand.

“Fuck, please,” he hisses, and the obscenity slides deliciously up your spine. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so gorgeous down there. I want you so badly, I just— please?” Spencer whines, and he sounds so sweetly pathetic that you take pity on him, wrap your lips around his head. The moan that falls from his lips is made of pure lust, and you shiver, arousal dripping between your thighs.

You suck and lick at him, eager and teasing, moaning as the taste of him fills your mouth. Spencer trembles with the effort of holding still, not fucking up into your mouth, and his hands unconsciously tighten in your hair. “You can be a little rougher, if you want,” you say, sliding your palms up his clothed thighs and taking him in your mouth again. You moan around him as his cock bumps the back of your throat, swallowing a gag with practiced ease.

Spencer’s hand curls into a fist in your hair, your stomach clenching in anticipation. The gentle sting when he tugs just a little buzzes under your skin, and you moan enthusiastically around him, hollowing your cheeks and taking him even deeper. “Fuck,” he whines, hips jerking forward until his cock bumps the back of your throat. Heat throbs between your legs as he twitches on your tongue, and you can tell from the sounds he’s making that he’s close. 

You double your efforts, pulling off to lick around his head and drip spit along his length. Arousal throbs in your belly, hips grinding down against nothing. Slowly, you take him all the way back in, moan low in your throat when he’s buried to the hilt. You trace your tongue across the vein throbbing on his underside, and Spencer lets out the sweetest, most desperate little whimper you’ve ever heard. “I- I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum, fuck, baby, oh, my God,” he gasps, needy and adoring.

His voice trembles as he begs, so soft you’re not sure he knows he’s speaking aloud, and the way he pleads your name, fuck. Time blurs around you, your head goes hazy, pleasure knotting itself deliciously around your insides. Spencer gives a strangled moan, a garbled sound that might be your name, and that’s all the warning you get. You swallow greedily as he spills on your tongue, twitching and moaning and praising you through short, gasping breaths.

He’s still twitching with the aftershocks as you pull off, kneeling to smile blithely up at him. Spencer’s eyes are wide, sparkling with adoration as he struggles for breath. “How was that, Professor?” you tease. “Do I get an A?”

He gives a groaning sort of laugh, pulls you to your feet. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, still gazing into your eyes. It’s disarming, and you get the distinct impression he can read what you’re thinking as plainly as if it were stamped on your forehead. “Come here, come on,” he adds, pulling at your hips and pressing your body into his. You’re almost shocked when he kisses you, hard and greedy and hungry, the most aggressive he’s been this entire time. He sanitises his damn desk three times in a class, for God’s sake — you’d half expected him to hand you a toothbrush when you stood from the floor.

And yet, he’s kissing you breathless, and his hands are tangled in your hair, and his body is pressed so close to yours that you can barely tell where you end and he begins. “Thank you,” he mutters against your lips. “That was incredible. You’re incredible. You’ve gotta let me— Come here, sit,” he says, guiding you to sit on his desk. You balance between scattered papers, an uncapped pen bleeding a black stain into your skirt. 

“Let you do what, Doctor?” you say, quiet and breathy, gazing up at Spencer with wide, adoring eyes.

Spencer smiles, and something warms in your chest at the sight. Long, delicate fingers trace along your thigh, push up your skirt until your panties are on full display. “Pretty,” he remarks, maddeningly casual. “Did you wear these for me?”

“Of course, sir. I don’t dress up for boys anymore.” You swallow, bite your lip. You decide to lay it on a little thicker. “See, I need a man.”

“Is that so?” Spencer murmurs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Your heartbeat quickens, excitement throbbing between your legs as he drags them down. “Look at you, sweet girl. So wet. Is that all from sucking my dick?” he teases, and you shudder.

You don’t know where the sudden obscenity, sudden dominance came from, but it thrills you all the same. “Mhmm,” you murmur. “What are you gonna do about it?” Smirking, Spencer picks up your panties, lets them dangle from his fingertips, red lace starkly incongruous from the calm, studious background of his office.

After a beat, his grin turns wicked and he tucks them into his pocket. “Safekeeping,” he says, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind your ear. The movement is so tender that it stops you in your tracks, a shimmering thread of something more than simple desire stringing between you. His eyes glitter, and you know he feels it too. Then, long fingers start to work at the buttons of your blouse. “I want to see all of you,” Spencer says, bending his head to kiss your lace-clad breast as your shirt falls open.

His hand skates up your thigh, oh-so close to where you need it. “Please,” you breathe. “Please, sir. I need you.” Spencer draws his hand away and you whine pathetically, your bare thighs suddenly impossibly cold.

“Be patient, sweet girl,” he says, low and almost dangerous. A thrill skitters up your spine as he sinks to his knees, gazing intently at your dripping wet core. “Beautiful,” he mutters, so quietly you don’t even think he’s talking to you. His hands slide up to your thighs again, spreading them apart gently. “Are you gonna let me taste you, beautiful?”

You nod frantically, cunt fluttering at his words. He kisses the inside of your knee, works his way down your thigh. A brief, bright spark of pain flickers through you as Spencer sucks a bruise into your skin and you moan. A rush of incredibly gratifying heat washes over you when you realise he’s marking you; a hidden little secret lying just beneath your polished exterior. Spencer won’t be able to see anything else when he looks at you. 

He pulls away from his assault on your thighs to look up at you, doe-eyed. “Tell me you want this. Please. I need to hear you say it.” You shudder, closing your thighs around his head and threading a hand into his curls so he can’t drag himself any further away.

“Spencer,” you moan. His eyes blow wide at the sound of his name from your lips. “Please. I need you,” you breathe. “Need you to make me cum, sir, please. Haven’t I been good for you? Don’t I deserve it?” You bite your lip to muffle a scream when Spencer leans in, licks a broad, flat stripe along your soaked core.

He’s methodical, at first, and you know somehow that he’s carefully cataloguing your responses. His tongue flicks over your clit, slow at first and then faster, pressure mounting between your thighs. Spencer moans into you, shifts his hips, and you realise: he’s getting off on this. A jolt of arousal so strong you literally pulse against his mouth rips through you, and you feel his lips curve into a smirk.

Big, soft hands dig hard into your thighs, pulling you flush against him like he could bury himself in you. “You taste so good, baby,” he whines, pressing his tongue flat against your hole as you grind your hips forward. Pleasure curls under your skin, swelling and pressing against your organs, crowding your mind until you can’t think, can’t feel anything but him. Your toes curl in your shoes, stomach clenching as your orgasm builds and builds. Breaking away, Spencer presses tender little kisses to your inner thighs, licks soothingly over his bite mark. 

Just as you’re starting to whine at the loss, he wraps his lips around your swollen clit. Sudden, electric ecstasy shoots through your body when he sucks on your sensitive nerves and it’s all you can do not to scream his name for the entire campus to hear. “Oh, fuck,” you whine instead, rocking your hips in a frantic, desperate rhythm. “M’so close, sir, please— You gotta let me— fuck!” you gasp, cunt clenching as he slides two fingers into you. You’re so wet that it’s easy, a slick slide as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Look how well you take me,” he says, staring openly at the point his fingers disappear into your body, your greedy cunt parted around them as wet, obscene noises fill the room. He kisses your clit softly and your legs kick out. “You’re gonna look so pretty taking my dick, hm?”

Your mind goes blank, pleasure thudding sickly in your throat, humming in your ears. “I want it,” you whine. “God, I want you to fucking— mmm— bend me over this desk ‘n— fuck— make me all stupid for you. Oh, God, Spencer, m’so close!” you cry, tugging at his hair and writhing helplessly.

“Go on, pretty girl,” Spencer says, softly urging. “Cum for me.” He pumps his fingers, licks at your clit, gently coaxes you over the edge. Your hands white-knuckle the edge of the desk as pure pleasure washes over you. Your body slumps, weak and powerless against the weight of your orgasm ripping through you. Spencer doesn’t let up, smiling into you as you write above him, murmuring soft praises that fade into a low buzz against your pulse hammering in your ears.

Spencer’s lips and chin glisten with your arousal, still kneeling between your legs as you struggle back to your body. “That was… Shit, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand,” you giggle, testing your weight as you shuffle off his desk. Spencer leans down to kiss you, and the taste of yourself on his lips is dizzying. Pouting, you glance up at the clock hanging over his door. “I have class.”

As much as he wants to, Spencer won’t tell you to cut class, and you both know it. “Would you like to, uh…” He clears his throat, adjusts his tie, and just like that, he’s back to the sweet, nervous academic you’re used to. “Continue this discussion later? I’ll— I’ll be here all day.”

Your lips stretch wide in a saccharine smile as you slowly button your shirt. “Why, Doctor Reid, are you asking me to meet you after hours? How scandalous,” you giggle, pressing a soft, near-chaste kiss against his lips. “I’ll be back at six.”

[padfoot-lupin77]

i made these a while back but i couldn't post more than 10 pictures from my phone and now i finally had time to log in from my computer so here you go

[sacredashes]

Male characters don’t seem to inspire this kind of public venting and vitriol.

Mythal (& Solas) // Anna Gunn's I Have a Character Issue

[wegog]

And I'm more than just your dear beloved wife, aren't I? Seeing as I am the blasted Queen.

The fact that Zeus presents Hera in the first place as his wife (while Hera distinguishes herself primarily as the queen) is interesting because it's the complete opposite of how Hades speaks of/treats Persephone...

My Queen

Our Queen

The Queen

bonus:

True rivals for Hera and me!

No, Zeus, sir, it could never be a competition...

[cassowariess]

I think Breaking Bad is an objectively better series in terms of writing, pacing and tight storyline, but having finished Better Call Saul and its more slow burner character studies I am obsessed with how nearly every single major character in the show is trying to convince themselves that they are rightously justified in some way. And by the time they realize they are not, it's too late.

Jimmy thinks he's justified in destroying Howard and Chuck's lives and rebrands himself as a 'champion of the underdog' when the truth is he's given several opportunities to better himself and just won't, because he gets a thrill out of fucking with people. Even when he flees to Nebraska he can't stop his schemes, like he's picking an open wound.

Kim convinces herself that screwing with Howard is funny and justified because he reprimanded her for pushing so hard with Jimmy's recommendation to Clifford Main. She should be angry at Jimmy for fucking up such a good opportunity but she, too gets a thrill out of punishing Howard and trying to drive him to insanity. She tries to wash her hands of it all, but Howard's murder makes her realize, too late that this was all just twisted, cruel, fuckery.

Mike lost his son to dirty cops, turns to a life of crime, but also seems to think he is above it all. Above the dirty cops, above the cartel. He tries to work via a moral code but it unravels when he kills Werner and then ends up betraying Nacho. It's only until Manuel tells him: "Justice? My boy is dead. This isn't justice, it's revenge. You gangsters are all the same" that he realizes he, too is a piece of shit and has repeated the cycle of losing a son.

Nacho says he "enjoys ripping off criminals because they can't go to the police. They have no recourse." And that's probably how he was able to do his job as Tuco's right hand man for so long. He just tells himself: these are all bad people so it's justified, when he's literally one of the bad people. He probably did all kinds of evil shit before he eventually wanted out.

Chuck thinks he's justified in keeping Jimmy's career prospects down because Jimmy's mom saw him as "the golden boy." He's furious that he had to work hard and (to his eye, anyway) Jimmy got to sail through life by taking shortcuts, so he won't allow him to climb the ladder. Chuck is somewhat right that Jimmy fucks everything up, deliberately, but part of his motivator is definitely bitterness and revenge and not concern. He even tells Jimmy: "You never really mattered to me."

Narratively: "I'm sorry that happened to you but you have no one to blame but yourself."

[formulanni]

Rawr

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls @brawngp2009 @korolrezni-nikolai @d00dlespng

[comkin]

New Mod Alert!

Hey, y'all, Mod Prince here!

I've come in to help with requests and am super excited and glad to be here!

System — He / They / It pronouns !

Things I do:

Pendulum readings

Simple yes and no questions I'll ask one of my pendulums!

Classpecting

A Homestuck thing! Where one combines a Class and Aspect, you create a Classpect. Personally we're a Knight of Mind, but who knows what you are?

Playlists

Let me know a specific music genre, if you have specific songs you want me to use or have as a basis that's cool too! You can also tell me general vibes. Feel free to let me know what genres NOT to put!

( I'm aiming for these to be 8 songs, not counting any you might ask me to put in. I might add more depending on how rent-free it will live in my brain )

Shitty Doodles

I'll draw something in shitty quality! More of a silly drawing, it may have color, it may not. I'll draw up to 2 people ( 1 person preferred ) in a doodle. Give me a prompt and I'll decide how detailed I'll go ! NOTHING SEXUAL. Thanks :)

I'll have 5 slots open at a time and update the pinned post as I have slots close and open.

More to potentially be added as we continue through these!

Excited to be of service,

Mod Prince ⚔️

[thou-babbling-brook]

Guys, have we considered… 🤨

[theweeklydiscourse]

No, actually. It is not “shaming Katara’s femininity” or her “maternal traits” to critique the ways in which her character was relegated to a the passive role of the Avatar’s grieving widow and largely ignored by the narrative post-ATLA. Oh my god, we are not “degrading” Katara by pointing out the sexist implications of how her character was handled and to suggest such a thing is just so…infuriating and very revealing of the underlying sexism in the fandom.

No thoughts, just people endlessly glorifying Katara’s maternal tendencies without bothering to question or investigate the adverse effects of her parentification. Apparently anyone who criticizes the writing of Katara’s character is just denigrating “traditional femininity” and THEY are the true misogynists! Not the male writers or viewers who consistently minimize Katara’s significance to the narrative and mock fans who ship her with anyone other than Aang.

Not at all, really we should just accept the conditions of the narrative uncritically and never question the biases of the creators. How dare we criticize them and point out the underlying sexism in their writing?

[cringefailvox]

polyvees could abolish age gap discourse forever with the simple notion that it is actually at its MOST compelling when we accept & cherish how vox is old enough to be val's father and velvette's grandfather

[n-i-m-u-e]

luke:*tries to ask aemond on a date again* please, please, pleeeeaaaas! i swear... aemond:*through gritted teeth* gods, haven't i suffered enough already? i said no! luke: come on, uncle, i'm not going to let go until you say yes! i know how to be persistent- aemond:*holding on to the last of its strength* and still no! luke: why "no"? i already apologised and you said you forgave me! or was it a lie? aemond: merciful fuckING GODS! YOU'RE THIRTEEN, LUKE! THAT'S WHY! YOU'RE FUCKING THIRTEEN! luke: ... luke:*very offended* well i didn't realize you were so superstitious

[istadris]

Yes Enemies to Lovers.

Yes "Enemies" as in "I would destroy you and everything you hold dear in a way viciously intimate".

Yes "To" as in "I hate you and love you, and yet once it was worse because I didn't know you"

Yes "Lovers" as in "any sane person in such a relationship should and would run away".

Yes Ennemies as the essential component, because else it's just a normal romance.

Yes Lovers as the essential component, because else it's just someone trying to kill a random person.

Yes Enemies AND Lovers at the same time. Kiss with a fist energy. Biting you with the intent to draw blood then gently licking it clean. Holding you tight in my arms then mauling you by kicking like a cat.

Yes ENNEMIES TO lovers. Somewhere along the way I've grown addicted to your violence and we keep coming back to each other because no one else knows me as well as you do.

Yes ennemies TO LOVERS. There's such an ugly history between us, it taints our sweet moments with a bitter taste, and yet somehow fondness has grown over our hatred, like moss and flowers over wasteland.

Yes Ennemies to Lovers with a happy ending, but half of the world thinks we're insane for turning our back to our principles.

Yes Ennemies to Lovers with a sad ending. I gave up all my life's work, my ethics, my dignity, my life, just for a chance at happiness with you.

Yes Ennemies to Lovers. I am your Hero's heinous sin and triumph, I am your Villain's shameful weakness and redemption.

Yes Ennemies to Lovers. The sex is amazing, thanks for asking.

[tikiki05]

Literally watching the caitvi shippers and caitlyn defenders in real time call my opinion on these things invalid just because I went into the show already knowing about all the bullshit that’s gonna go down relative to these topics.

Guess what! Had I went in blind, I still would think all the things I think! Because I don’t let my shared want for queer representation override the fact that what is going on in front of my eyes is domestic abuse! Or the fact that one of them is a fascist and lowkey a sexual predator! I still could have picked up on these things! Yall are cringe and making it everyone else’s problem!

Also the way they’ll be like “erm actually jinx never apologized for killing ekkos friends!!1!” Like okayyy?? What does that have to do with the ship I’m talking about?? Cause if your point is that every ship in the show sucks, that’d actually be an interesting take, but i know thats not what you’re saying! You are far from slick!

[sharkys-disco-stick]

missing graves hours 😔