#the ways we engage with fiction should be varied

[lgbtlunaverse]

I often get a little annoyed when I see posts that are something along the lines of "Y'all have GOT to learn to engage in media without shipping. Art is not just for shipping. If you get into art for shipping and nothing else that's bad and you have no media literacy why won't you care about THEMES?" because, yeah, they are technically correct. If you only egage with art in this one hyperspecific way you're going to miss out on a lot of good art and miss a lot of good things about the art you do like because you're only busy shipping.

But also... it is literally impossible to tell if someone is doing that based on a tumblr blog. "Everywhere I go I can only find people shipping why doesn't anyone care about anything else?!" A lot of them probably do, they're just not talking about it on their ship blogs.

This is a fanfic focused blog. Fic, and shipping by extension, are a very specific way of engaging with a work that I only use with a small amount of the art I experience. You know what my favorite book that I read this year was? Piranesi. Favorite movie? Everything everywhere all at once. Favorite series? Midnight mass.

And guess what? I'm not gonna write fanfic about ANY of those. And while I'll reblog posts about them that cross my dash I am also not going to seek out other fans on tumblr for these works specifically. And so, from looking at my blog, you'll have no idea that I read and loved these works, or that I spend a lot of my time thinking about them, their atmosphere, characters, and themes.

And that's just the narrative art I loved most. I've also gone to museums, and I'm definitely not writing any fanfiction about mondriaan's paintings.

You know what work I'm thinking about most these days? The book Flatland by Edwin Abott Abott. (Yes he is named Abott twice) a book about A Square (first name A last name Square) living in a two dimensional world being visited by a sphere from our three-dimenaional world. I read it several years ago, interested in the mathematical aspect, because by looking through A Square's perspective of meeting a creature from a world with a dimension he cannot fundamentally comprehend, we can imagine what the fourth dimension might look like to us.

I read it, loved the mindfuckery aspect of it, but was at various points annoyed at the horrible misogyny. The men in flatland are polygons with social status based on he number of sides and the widness of their angles, circles on top and triangles at the bottom. But the women are all simple line segments, automatically lower in society than even the lowest ranking men. A Square tells us women have to emit a "peace cry" when they walk, because walking into them (due to their sharp point) can be deadly, and if they don't do this they're executed. And women with any sickness that causes "involuntary motions" which can be as little as sneezing too hard, is instantly killed. He seems to think these are rational laws in the interest of public safety and also in the best interest of the women themselves. He also says that due to their lack of angles, women "are wholy devoid of of brainpower, and have neither reflection, judgement, nor forethought."

Yikes.

"I like it, but you can definitelly tell this was written by a man in 1884" I remember telling my mom.

Well guess what? This year I found out that flatland isn't just about having a low-level existential crisis at imagining the fourth dimension (beings from the 4th dimension would be able to directly see and touch our insides guys. Like. Just entirely bypass your skin and poke at your spleen) it is also a satire and social critique of victorian society. The misogyny is there to criticize victorian concept of gender roles! The bogus and violent laws that are shoddily justified to be for "public safety", the complete exclusion from women in the advancement and social class, the made up standard of angles and sides pretending to be biologically sound such as to "scientifically" justify their oppression. That's misogyny, baby! It's on purpose!

And it's a flawed attempt. A Square, as a man of his time, has no respect whatsoever for women and the few female characters the book has get barely any pagetime. This is accurate for the sexist pov the story is written from, and Edward Abott Abott, in a foreword of a revised edition, makes it clear that thay was exactly his intention. But it does mean that we never get to actually hear what any of the women of flatland think about living in this horribly misogynistic society. It's intended as a critique of misogyny, but any misogynist reading the book who doesn't find the sexism of flatland all that outlandish, can read the whole book with those assumptions going unchallenged. The satire only works if you already agree women are people.

But it's still good, insofar as portraying a ridiculously sexist society and the mind bogglingly stupid and arbitrary justifications mysoginists try to give for their bigotry, it is accurate. By removing it from our own world and putting it in flatland, we can more clearly see that connecting social status to wideness of angles is ridiculous, and the misogyny has no material basis. As a person who does agree that women are people, and is no longer under the impression that, because it was written in the 1880s, the misogny must be genuine, I can now, on a reread, appreciate the satire.

Prior to this post, looking at my blog, YOU WOULD NOT KNOW THIS. And I don't plan on posting many essays about flatland in the future. I read it because my mom recommended it to me, and so the way I discuss my thoughts on it is mostly with her, in real life. And I enjoy that more than I would posting about it here.

So yes, people SHOULD approach media from different lenses than shipping alone. Because shipping only works well for a subset of all art out there, and it is only one of the many ways to engage with it. But posts on tumblr are not solid proof of whether people are doing that or not.

It's also funny because a lot of the complaints of "why is everyone only interested in shipping for X" are about, like, adaptations of ya novels or comic books or god forbid shounen anime. You know, the shows with huge casts of usually likable, attractive and varied characters? Where a big part of the appeal is the entertaining dynamics those characters have which each other? Aka prime material for shipping?

Like, yeah, it can suck when it feels like the rest of the fandom is too busy smashing fictional barbie dolls together to have interesting conversations about the things you liked about the show. But please don't watch the Ship Show and then complain that everyone is shipping.

I wanted to end this post by telling you to go read flatland because there's no fanfiction of that but there are, in fact, over 40 works on ao3 for flatland by edwin abott abott and over half of them are gravity falls fics. It completely undermines my point but it's too funny to leave out.

[cavegirlpoems]

So many TTRPG people, like yourself, seem to exist in a world where players don't actually enjoy the campaigns they're in, and don't actually like playing with the people they play with, and your whole approach to game mechanics seems like it's about trying to bribe these people to continue playing at a given table.

i have no idea where you get this idea from, I play a bunch of different games - including freeform text rp, fest larps, parlour larps, regular tabletop campaigns, longform play-by-post games and narrative wargames - and I have a lot of fun doing it. I wouldn't be a game designer if I didn't actually enjoy games. The thing is, if you study game design and ttrpg theory seriously, you think about the intent behind design decisions. Game design doesn't just happen by accident, the designer put a given rule in for a reason. So, you ask yourself why the designer made the game the way it did, and what they were trying to achieve.

A significant tool for game design is considering the feedback the game provides; what behaviours that ruleset rewards and what it discourages. (You can apply this analysis to other games, too, like video games). When I'm talking about a bribe, it's in that context; how does the game reward you for doing things, and what things does it reward. (For example, 'scrabble' rewards you for playing words with weird letters in them by making those letters worth more points.)

The thing is, ultimately, every game relies on a simple proposition; that if you volunterily use its rules, you will have fun. You don't need to follow the rules, and you can have fun without them, but the idea is that using the rules will let you have more fun, or a different type of fun, than if you didn't. (For example, throwing a ball around is a bit fun, but if everybody agrees to follow the rules of basketball, you get a different experience that a lot of people prefer). So, the only bribe you're making on the interpersonal, out-out-of-game level (unless something weird is going on) is "if we play this game it will be fun". When I talk about bribes and incentives, it's *inside* the game, after we've all agreed to the game's proposition of "if you use the rules, you will have fun".

Now, what counts as an incentive varies by game. Some, like Warhammer 40k, are challenge-based, and have ways to keep score of success and victory; here, things that signify overcoming the challenge are your incentives; how you get a high score, how you win, etc. Others, like most ttrpgs, are creative-based. What constitutes an incentive within the game's structure is less precisely defined. By and large, though, these incentives tend to be things like increased agency within the game fiction, space for creative expression, and experiencing and learning about more of the game fiction. (In this structure, 'being more mechanically powerful' can be thought of as a way of granting a player more agency, because their actions are more likely to succeed and result in the outcomes that they want. If the mechanical growth is lateral as well as vertical, then how to get more powerful is - itself - a venue for creative expression in what to prioritise, which is also a reward).

In the same way that you have the adage that 'restrictions breed creativity', the same goes for Fun. Limiting your scope from anything-goes freeform by voluntarily agreeing to use a set of game rules can produce similar results. Voluntarily limiting your agency in the fiction according to a set of game rules produces a friction that players of roleplaying games find enjoyable to push against. In this context, a reward structure within a game serves the useful purpose of signposting which direction you should push to get the fun kind of friction. A game which limits your options, and then gives you more options when you engage with certain behaviours, is telling you that those are the intended behaviours. Likewise, a game that limits your options even further when you do something is encouraging you not to do that. This is because game designs are not neutral and universal, they exist to create specific experiences. A game that rewards you by giving you more space for creative expression when you get in a fight - and gives you less space for creative expression when you avoid violence - is one that wants you to engage in violence, because it's designed to be a game where you have fun by fighting. This isn't bribing the players to sit down at the table and play the game; that has already happened outside the context of the game. They have already agreed to the game's offer of 'if you use these rules, you will have fun'. Rather, this bribing is within the game-space, the games mechanics encouraging the players to engage with it as intended, in the way that will be most fun. IE: these incentive structures are a tool the game uses to achieve the promise it makes; they guide the players towards the fun that they volunteered to have. Hope that makes sense. * * * Now, your initial ask is a weird take that's entirely unrelated to anything I've posted, and - particularly from an anon account- oddly antagonistic. I don't know if you're genuinely confused about game design, or arguing in bad faith. Either way, this probably doesn't merit the small essay I've produced, but have one anyway, it's always fun to clarify my ideas in written form.

[the-haven-of-fiction]

I realize that I am one of those outliers who thinks that it is possible to be a fan in an enjoyable and healthy way, and perhaps I am missing the entire point of fandom-based social media content while I do understand the whole psychological phenomenon of trying to exert control on fiction when you are unable to exert control on reality, etc, BUT....

Friends, you do not have to let opinions and arguments about fictional characters and situations cause you actual mental/emotional distress. What someone else thinks, if it is in opposition to your views about such things, literally has zero impact on what you think. Zero. If you think a certain way, then think a certain way; you do not need the entire world to agree in order for your thought to be legitimized. Contrasting and respectful discourse about fictional things can be stimulating for sure; it should not be combative or insulting.

Don't worry - our beloved fictional characters can survive varying interpretations of their actions, their relationships, and their motives. They won't be eternally erased from the page or the screen if someone's opinion about them differs from mine.

If you are in agreement with what the official writers choose for a fictional character, then accept it and enjoy it. If you are opposed to what the official writers choose for a fictional character, then write your own story in your imagination. Isn't that the point of fan fiction? Whichever your decision, you can carry it out without attacking proponents of the other. And guess what? You do not have to defend your opinion if you are attacked. Ignore. Do not engage. Block. Delete.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. (Are we still saying that?)

[altocat]

I'm gonna chime in that the VinDad concept is definitely not an East vs. West thing in any capacity, as I follow multiple artists out of Japan and Korea and China who portray Vincent as Sephiroth's dad pretty regularly. For anyone to assert that it's only Westerners who make the assumption is patently false; the issue is that it's a fringe theory regardless, so if you're not interested in that particular concept, you're going to avoid the circles where it's common and aren't likely to see it regularly. This leads to the perception that it's nonexistent outside the occasional stray orbital post here and there, which will be very limited.

As someone who adheres to the concept fairly religiously in personal fanworks, I see it all the time—because that's the fandom experience I've cultivated.

This is very helpful, thank you!

Also, just as a disclaimer below:

I feel like I should make something very, very clear with my posts. They are mostly written in jest and are not, in any way, to be taken seriously as set in stone concepts. They are playful. They are not designed to actively tell people how and what to think beyond a "hehe what if" sort of way. They are fluid and ever changing as my own opinions change. They are HEADCANONS. Or just tidbits to help people see things that they hadn't considered before. There are tons of takes in the fandom I disagree with. But just because we disagree doesn't mean that I think you're morally wrong or that you don't understand the material. Everyone has preferences.

Making more things clear:

-Not supporting the Vincent-Dad theory does NOT make you wrong/a bad person

-Not liking Lucrecia does NOT make you wrong/a bad person

-Not liking Genesis does NOT make you wrong/a bad person

And so on. When I'm addressing "haters", I'm poking fun at the the often irrational negativity that I find swirling around in the fandom (which existed LONG before I showed up) and trying to add a layer of speculation. Sometimes I'm just outright shitposting. Characters like Lucrecia and Genesis often attract needlessly unfair and graphic controversy/criticism that I personally find troubling and thus, I make posts to either challenge those assertions or to make fun of the fact that we're all just sitting here screaming about fictional characters. Sometimes I'm just joking. Sometimes I'm putting forward an actual debate. It varies.

But they are not designed to hurt people. Or to make things personal. One's opinions on a fictional character don't constitute who they are as a person. That's not the goal here. Rather, it's to speak out against perpetual negativity that certain characters or concepts unfairly accrue within the community. Or to just push forward fun theorycrafting. Sometimes I'm just being silly. But even when I'm not, there's a golden rule of engaging with topics that I think everyone should understand: Agree to disagree. It's okay if we don't see eye to eye. I'm sure we can find common ground in some areas. It's just fiction and these are just fictional characters.

I just wanted to put all this out there. Because you guys are important to me and I don't want innocent miscommunication actively upsetting people.

[sailoryooons]

Carved | Four | jjk (m)

→ Summary: Hundreds of years after the Underworld wins the war, Vaesen - demon kind - rule the Realms. The Vanir - creatures of light and the Heavens - are hunted and enslaved by Vaesen. When the demon prince Jungkook is given one of the Carved - angels who have been stripped of their wings - he has no idea what to do with you. You, however, have plans you are determined to see through. Even if it means death in the end.

→ Pairing: demon!Jungkook x angel!female reader

→ Rating: NSFW & 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging with this content. Any minors discovered interacting with adult content will be blocked immediately.

→ Type: Series

→ Genre: dystopian, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, angst

→ Pairing: 8,254

→ Warnings: Graphic depiction of violence and fighting, graphic depiction of death and gore, depictions of death (including, but not describing the death of a child and family members), semi-complex fight scenes, mentions of manipulation and power imbalance, reader purposefully seducing Jungkook to get what she wants, mentions of something similar to subspace and reader taking advance of Jungkook in a subspace like state mentally, explicit language, power imbalances and mentions of enslaved creatures, Jungkook and reader get a little violent with one another but like.. in a pleasure able way so here we go for the sexually explicit warnings, reader goading Jungkook, unprotected vaginal sex, fingering, Jungkook kinda gets right too it, rough, slapping and biting, Jungkook being pretty rough and slamming reader around and shoving her into things, vulnerable mental states and manipulation, mild dirty talk tbh this sex scene is incredibly mild in terms of what I usually do, ummm I don't know guys it's a dark urban fantasy with weird shit, unedited should be a warning because I did a grammarly check and nothing else oops. ALSO PLS KEEP IN MIND THIS SEX SCENE IS BLAND BECAUSE OF THE SPECIFIC SCENARIO THEY ARE IN. I ASSURE YOU MUCH MORE DETAILED AND EXPLICIT SMUT IS IN THE FUTURE, BUT IT WASNT THE VIBE HERE

→ Main Masterlist: here

→ Series Masterlist: here

→ faq 

A/N: IT'S FINALLY HERE. Sorry this was so delayed. I was dealing with writers block pretty severely, work has been really crazy and demanding, I've been really tired and also my mentally manipulative ex-boyfriend decided to unalive himself so that was a weird week, I was trying to find new apartments and yeah this chapter has been re-written at least 5 times. Also I apologize I said fuck it we ball and this is absolutely only edited with a grammarly check. I will edit in full tomorrow but I do not have the brain capacity to do it right now, she is Tapped Out but I promised I would post this mf chapter tonight. Does any one have any theories as to what's going on yet teehee.

©2022 haliiimede. all rights reserved. Reposting and/or translating is not allowed, even if you credit the story. Works are only crossposted on AO3. Find my AO3 here.

Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgement or representation of real life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. BTS is not BTS culturally, intellectually, physically or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

/ PREVIOUS / NEXT CHAPTER /

Screams split the air. For a second, you hesitate, turning to the source of the chaos. It erupts beyond the door, startling several Vaesen inside of the room. You react first, shooting toward the door with Taehyung and Jungkook on your heels.

The sound that greets you is a symphony of shattering glass, surprised screams and varying degrees of carnage. A table flips in front of you as you enter the main ballroom. You sidestep it easily as it fractures against Taehyung, who hardly flinches before vanishing into the surging crowd of running and swarming Vaesen and Vanir.

With careful movements, you slid out of your heels, feet pressing against broken glass. It doesn’t bite or cut your skin – only real weapons can do that – but it’s uncomfortable as you take a defensive stance, aware how vulnerable you are in a tiny, sheer dress and no weapon.

Blood-slicked floors greet you. The screams of the Vaesen make your lips twitch upward slightly. Chaos has erupted in a tableau of overturned tables, shattered champagne glasses, pearl-draped demons hiding behind fractured, round tables, and a dark, wet hissing sound.

Whatever creatures have entered the room smell wrong, like honey gone sour or sweet cream curdled. Your eyes sweep the painting of chaos before you.

And then you see them.

Your heart stills for one painfully long second, stretched like skin pulled too tight over bone. They’re… seraphim but not.

The creatures have dark, pitted eyes with black veins rippling over sallow skin. They’re naked and feature no distinct gender, appearing stitched together. Their ribs are prominent and you’re unsure if it’s by design or emaciation. There are mismatched wings on their bodies, opening and closing uncontrollably at awkward intervals and angles like they don’t know how to use them - or maybe can’t.

A creature lets out a screech and cuts a vampire lord in half, blood spraying the wall like watercolor on canvas. There is a dozen of them, and they all have swords, crudely shaped but you can almost taste the adamas in the swords.

Fucking hells. They have swords of Heaven.

Jungkook appears at your side, dark eyes scanning the room as the Not-Seraphim spread throughout, cutting through screaming party goers who are unarmed beyond their own fangs and teeth. You can scent gore in the air and your blood hums: it smells like a killing pitch.

“Reaper.” Jungkook says the name like a command. The name is both yours and not yours. It is one of many names. One of many people you are. His voice slithers down your back, eliciting a shiver. He holds out a dagger. Reaper is the person Jungkook needs you to be. “Find my niece.”

You take the dagger and come alive. The hellstone throbs in your hand, metal carved from the deepest pits of the underworld and forged in hellfire. You tighten your grip and move forward.

One step and you’re in front of one of the Not Angels. It cocks it’s head and pauses, a series of clicks slipping through black, jagged teeth and a weeping mouth.  

A second step and death follows you.

Flesh burns. It singes your nose, something like spoiled flesh and rotten eggs. You can taste the sulfur as the creature wilts to the floor, body still twitching after decapitation. You bend over, snatching up the poorly made sword. It’s sharp enough, but the handle is crude and the blade is splotchy, mixed with many metals.

It hums in your hand, a pulse of power crawling through your palm and fingers like an electric current. You recognize the feel of adamas, a metal only found in Heaven realms deep in cloud-ringed mountains. For a moment your mind drifts, suspended between memory and imagination. You can almost see it: tangerine pink skies, the smell of orange blossoms, wind that is neither cold nor warm.

A creature lunges at you and the dream melts away. You duck under the blow, striking out with the dagger. It plunges to the hilt, a wet crack sounding as you puncture its ribcage. It screams and spittle flies. It doesn’t react to the knife, clawing toward you and opening a split maw of blood and black.

Cringing backward, you push with the dagger, shoving the creature away to provide space for the swing of your sword. The head severs, hitting the ground with a thud before rolling away. The body jerks, remaining vertical for a moment. Ripping your knife out, you send the lifeless body to the ground where it remains dead.

Interesting.

Another creature replaces the felled one, no weapon in hand but claws raking out at you. You shuffle backward, ducking away from the swiping talons. The creature flaps its wings once – the only one with functional wings, it seems – and surges forward, catching you off guard.

It knocks into you with the weight of a brick wall. The air leaves your lungs and you go down with the creature, it’s talons catching the flesh on your right bicep. You scream at the burn and fuck it burns. You look at where your skin burns black and wilted in three, jagged lines.

A blue-sparked flame catches your attention on the creature’s hands as it gnashes at you. You grab it around the throat, keeping razor teeth away from your face as drool and something else drips on your face. Your eyes zero in on the flame that comes and goes like it can’t control the heat on the tips of its fingers.

Hellfire, you realize.

Your mind expands, a searching radar for Jungkook. You sense him immediately, his mind like mist and rain tinged with hatred. His emotions are in turmoil, a churning storm of icy rain that bites into your thoughts and razor-sharp wind. There is a sense of no control, Jungkook’s churning storm ripping through his energies with something like feral-laced panic on the edges.

Jungkook, you call to him, feeding him your emotions as you shove back at the gnashing teeth of the creature pinning you down. He ignores you, his storm too volatile to sense you. You push harder, imagining that you’re brushing cool water down the bridge of your connection.

Jungkook flinches when he feels you. The storm pauses, like passing into the eye as the chaos settles around him. You use the opportunity to speak again. They can use Hellfire.

It takes a moment for him to respond. Understood.

Pulling away from the connection, you keep your minds tethered. The crackling energy and harsh storm stirs again when you pull from his mind, but it’s not as out of control as before, the thread between you an anchor as he refocuses on his own task.

Lightning crackles under your fingers as you shove with your hand, putting all your force into where you push back on the monster above you. The creature topples backward as you roll to your feet, movement fluid. Your dress is ripping near the throat, threatening to tear. You curse, begging the fabric to stay on a little longer.

You have no intention of fighting while spilling out of your dress.

Electricity charges in the room. Unchoked, you feel the thunder of your power looming on the horizon. Every time you call the lightning to you feels like a rush of adrenaline, the sparks dancing along every nerve of your body, lighting you up from the inside out.

This is your power. There is a moment where you consider letting it all go. You could supernova right where you stand, destroying everything within several miles. You know you have the capability – it's something you’ve dreamed of doing for years.

But it’s just a dream, and your dreams do not align with your goal.

Reigning in the urge to destroy destroy destroy, you instead focus the lightning on the creatures closest to you. The bolts let out a loud crack as you direct the energy to your targets. There is a flash and the smell of burnt skin and corpse, but you ignore it, pushing toward a forming group in the corner of the ballroom.

There is a concentration of fighting Vaesen, screaming and creatures near where you remember seeing Jungkook’s niece last. A body topples in front of you, and you step over it- later you will remember that it was a collared Vanir, naked and still tied to a chair on its leash.

You see Jihoon– he's covered in something black and slick, kicking out at one of the creatures. He has a single dagger in his hand, a retinue of guards dead at his feet, and you can hear the high-pitched scream of his daughter behind him. A single step in their direction is blocked by more creatures, hissing and clicking at you.

Jungkook appears at your side, covered in gore. His hands are black to the wrist, dripping in... something. You realize he’s fighting without a weapon.

“Are you ripping through them?”

“I gave you my knife,” he snaps. His mind brushes against yours, a torrent of chaos and loud noises and anger so hot you waver. You toss the dagger to him, spinning your new sword in your hand. “I think beheading them is the only thing that works.”

“Yeah, I discovered that thanks.”

A vampire gets turned to mist and splatter in front of you. You feel the hot blood hit your face. It smells metallic and like Synth from his last meal.

“Can you-”

You see it in his mind. The lightning that you can summon to destroy worlds. You nod once, summing the crackling energy inside of you.

A high-pitched scream interrupts you. Your eyes zero in on Kita, hiding under a table as her mother pulls the girl tight against her chest, baring her teeth. There's a red aura around her as she snaps her teeth at one of the creatures, a red arch of fire snapping out.

Fox fire.

Kita tries to imitate her mother, crying through barred teeth and a tiny flicker of flame humming around her. There are creatures closing in and you feel the snap of your power, targeting the creatures in a large area.

Power ripples in the room. You feel the urge to kill kill kill again. To destroy. To light the entire room up and burn it all down. You’ve done it before. You know the taste and smell of annihilation. You know the feeling of death brushing past you as he collects his dead.

The crack of a whip. A scream of agony. Blood in your mouth your hands your ears your neck, your arms-

You push away the desire to rebel. It burns bright, a hot coal ready to catch fire but you smother it. Pretend it isn’t there.

Rising up at the wrong time does nothing. Freeing yourself a long game. Giving in to your rage means failure, and you have failed and failed and failed and failed and -

The room flashes bright. Colors dance behind your eyes as you let go of the power. For a moment, everything is silent. The world is warped, the sulfur air charged with electricity. You feel the static tickle the nap of your neck, your arms, your mind.

You look around. There are no more creatures standing, black wisps of smoke curling toward a scorched ceiling. Dust motes float down. You stick out a hand, finger pointed as one lands on your finger. You realize it’s soot, the leftovers from the creatures you’ve thoroughly crisped.

Around the room, life – or what’s left of it – begins to stir. Glass crunches beneath feet and the sound of tables being righted sounds booming in the silence of destruction.

Jungkook and Ji-Hoon are on their knees, ducked under the table as they coax Kita and her mother from their hiding spot.

You assess the damage, eyes scanning the room and catching on golden collars. Diamonds resting on the hollow of still throats. Snapped gossamer wings under a broken body. A platinum leash tangled in a chair, its nymph counterpart missing her lower half.

There are more Vanir than Vaesen among the dead. Caught up in leashes and collars. Stuck in a brass birdcage. Shackled to a table. Your stomach turns but you don’t focus on the faces. Committing them to memory makes them mean something and nothing means anything to you.

“Reaper.” Jungkook’s voices radiates the space between you and the space unseen, echoing in your mind. You turn to look at him. He has a firm grip on Kita, the child pressed to his side as Ji-Hoon argues with his wife silently. “We are escorting them out.”

“We’re with you.” The oily voice makes you stiffen. You don’t have to turn to see Taehyung among the aftermath. You do see the kitsune lingering off to the side, his dark eyes flickering from the ashes to you. “Both of us.”

Jungkook bows his head. “They were concentrated around Ji-Hoon and none of his men remain. It’s safe to assume he’s a target. Reaper and Yoongi with Kita and Daiyu. Taehyung with us.”

Taehyung moves past you, no longer interested in teasing you. Jungkook presses close to his brother and you press Kita and Daiyu between you and Yoongi. The huli jing looks at you skeptically, holding her daughter’s hand fiercely. You don’t give it much thought, following Jungkook’s lead as he leads your group through a service entrance.

It smells like sulfur and rot. Damp air clings to your skin, forming a sticky second layer. You grimace. The clack of dress shoes is loud against the tile floors. The hall is too narrow for you to walk in groups, meant for only a few Vanir to come and go at a time. You move quickly in single file line, Yoongi at the front with Kita and Daiyu between you.

Jungkook’s mind waivers on the edge of yours. You can feel that he’s aware of you, as though he is turning over his should to see if you’re still there. You can’t see him from the back of the line, but he doesn’t severe the connection.

Probably don’t know how.

Servant corridors are long and complicated. When Jungkook approaches a split, he takes one hall over another confidently. You peek into his mind, seeing the flash of blueprints and memory of a layout on a screen.

You know the layout of the servant halls, you observe. Down your connection, you sense him flinching. You knew you would be attacked?

No. His voice is curt. His mind is a dark storm, words cutting through hissing rain. But we are always prepared. It’s not often that someone tries to assassinate us, but...

But what?

Focus on your task.

Your lips twitch and you feel him draw away from you a bit. But what? You wonder. He was hiding something and that just wouldn’t do. Cutting into his mind would be as easy as clipping the wings of a butterfly. But you leave Jungkook alone for now, following the dark hall, Taehyung and Jihoon’s hushed voices drifting toward you.

A small door in the hall, nearly invisible leads to a tunnel. You can still see flitting images and thoughts across Jungkook’s memory. He has no control to his thoughts, no way to block you out. He is unaware of the danger you present to his mind, laid open for the taking.

And yet you don’t.

The ground slopes beneath your feet. Your press your fingers on the wall, casting your senses. There’s damp, empty air on the other side of the wall and you can hear the hush of slow floating water. Above you, the ceiling vibrates. You’re in a tunnel in the sewers.

Your eyes drift to Jungkook. He was trained in escape routes in the building. And seemed to be one of the few Vaesen armed at the party.

Unarmed Vaesen. The thought leads you somewhere between pleasure and contempt. Only the creatures of the Underworlds could be so arrogant as to think they have nothing to fear. In a way, they don’t. Demons and their kind are the apex predators, the top of the food chain.

But even among themselves, enemies lurk.

The sheer stupidity is comforting – the knowledge that it comes at the expense of how little of a threat Vanir pose, is not.

A cool awareness brushes against the nape of your neck. You pause, the echoes of shoes and Kita sniffing silently ahead reverberating off the walls. Your instinct flickers and you turn your head a fraction, angling your ear toward the way you came.

Silence stretches and stretches. You frown, stretching out the net of your mind. It’s a strange feeling, opening that barrier and sense of other. It’s not a psychic ability as much as it is sensing energy, magic, and existence, something many Vanier and Vaesen alike can do.

At first, there is nothing but empty space. Ahead of you, your group pushes on. They don’t notice that you’ve stopped entirely, head cocked and tense.

Then you hear it – or at least perceive it. A soft hiss, the smell of death.

They’re here, you hiss down the tether between you and Jungkook. You feel his surprise and then his anger as you turn to face the back of the tunnel. Keep going and let me know when you’re out of the tunnel. If I light up in here, you’re going down too.

Good to know you care.

You scoff. I still have use for you, Dominus.

Something like irritation and resentment slithers down the connection from Jungkook. It makes you smirk, pleased at offering opposition. It’s been a long time since you could openly oppose someone the way you now can. It’s a risk, but it’s a calculated one.

Sometimes you must let the monster in to give it a sense of comfort. You remember the lesson. You think about the Vaesen who so easily move about the world without weapons.

Yes, letting Jungkook see parts of you is necessary. Dangerous, but ultimately worth it.

Shuffling, stilted movements echo toward you. Sliding your feet apart and bent slightly at the knee, you wait in a defensive stance. You leave the connection to Jungkook open. As you wait for the creatures to reach you, you periodically drift to observe Jungkook and the others. They’re making quick work rushing through a network of tunnels, moving faster now that there is a threat.

Lightning will do you no good in an enclosed space. While you won’t kill yourself, the walls of the tunnel are reinforced with metal rods and bracketing, a perfect conduit for electricity. With the running water crisscrossing in the sewer system just behind, you’re positive you’ll light up half of the underground network if you try it.

So you wait. Sword in your hand. Poised.

The first creature slides into your line of sight. The corridor is dark and without light, the shapes of the bent wings in a small space almost comical. They cannot move more than one at a time, a single file line of twisted limbs and rotten smell.

It sees you and pauses. There are soft clicks, the sounds bouncing back and forth. You frown, watching as they all stop moving, the clicks drifting between them at different intervals and cadences like… a language.

They’re speaking.

Whatever they are, they have some sort of intelligence. The humanoid shapes are all wrong, but you can vaguely sense something thrumming inside of them that is both like you and not. Your stomach flips at the implication that you can sense the creatures the way you sense Jungkook stopped at a fork in the tunnels, unsure of which way to go.

The clicking stops. You turn your attention away from Jungkook, narrowing that feed of awareness tied to him to the barest thread. For a moment, you and the first creature stare at one another. The next moment, it’s charging forward faster than you expect.

You duck as the creature slams into you. The breath leaves your lungs, feeling as though you’d been hit with the force of a thick wall, but you push up with your back as the creature topples over you, sending it sprawling. Your sword hand is fast, flicking in an arch to sever the head as the creature stumbles to regain balance.

The narrow space immediately becomes a problem. The next creature is on you, teeth snapping hungrily as you back up, stepping and slipping slightly on the ichor leaking from the dead body beneath your feet. There’s no room to swing your sword, so you’re forced to twitch the blade back and forth, parrying sharp stabs from your assailant.

Just like the creatures in the ballroom, these are uncoordinated. Their stabs aren’t fast enough, joints cracking and twisting awkwardly in lurching motions as they attack. Cutting through them is difficult in the lack of space. They press in on you, making you track backward to give yourself more room to fight. It’s not ideal – you’re leading them toward where Jungkook and the others have started moving again.

“Fuck,” you snarl, tasting foul ichor on your tongue as it sprays you from a sharp wound on the neck of one of them. It bellows and claws forward.

Summoning air in the tunnel you thrust a hand out, punching toward them with wind. It rips through the halls, whistling as the air rushes past you in violent torrents. It slams into creatures, propelling them backward.

While they’re crumpled and disorganized in a pile, you take ground back, advancing on them. They clamor over one another, shrieking and twitching their wings as they regain a sense of control. You summon wind again, ready to send another blast when a raw scream rips down your mental tether with Jungkook.

It’s violent and invasive, prying open your connection and funneling unfiltered pain and wrath into your own mind. Your vision goes white for a second as the emotional tidal wave of Jungkook overwhelms you, unexpected and uncontrolled.

A spark of blue is the only warning you get from one of the hellish creatures. You barely react in time, summoning wind again at a greater force. It screams toward you, quick enough to meet the blue flame of Hellfire as it fills the hallway.

Heat scorches against air. You scream in alarm. For a moment, you think your makeshift airwall won’t be enough to keep you from being turned to soot.

It holds, a steady wind current coming down the tunnel. Dust, dirt, and mice get picked up in your vacuum, spinning and slamming into the solid, opaque wall of air. You keep your energy focused on the wind as much as you can, Jungkook’s mental screaming almost too much of a distraction as you try and close the mental door between the two of you.

But Jungkook is untrained and the son of Sariel. His connection to you is strong and whatever he’s experiencing on the other side of the tunnel system is a deeper well than you knew he was capable of.

Gritting your teeth, you dig down into your well of power. It’s always there, a bottomless pit of energy and ability to use your gifts. Some witches call it magic. Faeries call it glamour. Angels call it grace and there is a spark of it there, tiny and imperfect, but enough for you to sustain the wind and shut the door on Jungkook just enough.

Snippets rush by you. They’re at the mouth of an entrance somewhere – almost out of the tunnel system. But they’re fighting – you sense more creatures and… others. Demons. Jungkook’s rage is a storm, battering down on your connection to him and exploding out of him as he fights.

Get out of the tunnels, you demand. Jungkook I need you to at least get out of the tunnels.

There is no acknowledgment that he’s heard you. There’s only screaming wind, the song of his fury, and heat building up on the other side of your wall. You smell molten metal and realize the creatures are going to bring everything down.

Jungkook, you scream at him. There is nothing on the other side, just anger threatening to swallow him whole. Jungkook!

Nothing.

Gritting your teeth, you shift a few steps back. You take a deep breath, feeling the heat on the other side of your air wall, and you shove hard through your mental tether. You feel Jungkook’s awareness, fire and rain. He feels you now.

Get out the fucking tunnel or I will kill all of you. This is your last warning.

And it is. Jungkook is useful. Using him is easier than the alternative, and having to come up with an additional plan after killing him while trying to escape the city is far too complicated, and near the realm of impossibility.

Sweat begins to form on your hairline. You feel the slick on your legs and your palms, the air over-warm. It continues to get hotter and hotter, kicking up several notches. Azure swims on the other side of the air you feed into your protect. It flares, growing stronger off the oxygen you provide it, but you have no other choice.

Silver drips from the ceiling. You look up, spotting liquified metal oozing through the earth’s ceiling.

Go. Jungkook’s voice is nearly a whisper. You realize you’re screaming with the force of the power you’re feeding into your wind. His words are like a release, a flip switching as you dive headfirst into the electric current of your lightning.

It’s an explosion. Heat and electricity meet in a caustic battle, the walls and floor rumbling as your lightning pulses from you more like a wave than bolts. You hear the crack, feel it vibrate your ears, and then there is only loud ringing as you stumble backward.

Dust, ash, and metal fill the air. You’ve brought down half the tunnel and you’re splayed on your ass.

Rolling over on your stomach, you try and push yourself to your feet. You slide in dirt and darkness. It’s difficult to breathe, the air filled with static and heated enough that your skin feels like you’re on fire. You manage to find footing and retreat towards where Jungkook and the others have gone.

Nothing follows you.

The high-pitched ringing does not leave you. A bit dizzy, you follow the thread of Jungkook’s existence, feeling the thread between you pull you toward him. His rage has turned to agony, and you know someone is dead, though you cannot discern who.

When you finally reach the surface, you understand.

There are masked Vaesen littered around an empty warehouse. You’re close to the Celadon River, the taste of salt in the air as it filters in from the sea. You cannot hear beyond the scream of your damaged ears, but the wind here is cool, coming in through a giant hole in the ceiling, freshly singed.

Similar creatures that hunted you into the halls lay in pieces. Jungkook stands expressionless, ringed by bodies. It seems the fight was centered on him, death laying quietly at his feet. Yoongi and Taehyung stand a few feet away, expressionless. Watching.

A single shaft of moonlight shines on Jungkook through the broken ceiling. It paints half of his face silver, his eye rimmed silver. The rest of his face in shadow. It’s an eerie picture, half of him light and dark, split between two worlds. A child slithers down your spine as your eyes drift away from the thunder in his expression to his feet, where his eyes are fixed and you see the source of his unending agony.

Jihoon and his family are no more.

-

Namjoon is the only other person at the apartment. You eye him warily as he stands in the living room, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watches the holoscreen. Images of the party flash on the screen. There are videos from security cameras, starlets filming the chaos while at the party, and media drones outside of the building as the police force descended on the scene.

Reporters stand in the carnage. There are still broken bodies of Vanir, stepped over as the reporters lead their filming drones through the rooms. You can see Vanir tied to leashes on chairs. Again, you don’t look at their faces.

After appearing from the tunnel to find Jihoon and his family dead, you were ushered home immediately. You went without negotiation, casting a single look at Jungkook. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, his expression flitting between exquisite pain and nothingness.

Sensing your presence, Namjoon turns his head a fraction to look at you. His eyes harden and his jaw flexes, onyx eyes not leaving you for a second. You remember your perceived place with him, casting your eyes to the screen to ignore the way he burns holes through you with just a look.

“Go away,” he grunts. “Your presence is bothersome.”

“I’m sorry, dominus.” You make your voice light and airy. “Why has master not come home with me?”

Calling Jungkook master burns your tongue. You make yourself look small, tucking your chin to your chest and curving your shoulders inward, like you’re bracing to be hit. You play with the hem of your shirt, which is too big like the rest of your clothes.

Namjoon scoffs, not buying it. “Because he has to deal with this fucking mess.”

“I should be with master- “

“Drop the act. Whatever you are, it isn’t Carved. If Jungkook wants to keep you and do whatever he wants with you, that’s fine.” You glance up at him. He stares you dead in the eye. “But I don’t like you and I don’t trust you. Stay in your lane, I’ll stay in mine.”

Namjoon leaves the room, the holoscreen casting blue light on the empty space. You listen to him go. He goes to his own room at the far end of the apartment and shuts the door loudly.

“Dick,” you mutter, entering the living room proper to look up at the screen.

The sound is muted, only showing the chaos. “Elide, volume on.”

“State access name,” the apartment system responds, voice cool and clear. You recite your name. “Unregistered user.”

You snarl. “Elide, volume on.”

“State access name.”

“Jungkook.”

“Voice recognition failure.”

“Just turn the fucking volume on!”

The elevator door opens behind you. You whirl on your heel, teeth bared in frustration. Jungkook walks through the door, barely sparing you a glance as he says, “Stop yelling at the technology. I didn’t program you into the system.”

“I noticed.” He walks into the kitchen, tapping the corner of a cabinet. It unlocks and pops open, revealing shelves of liquor. He removes a bottle and taps the cabinet shut. “Didn’t think you needed it.”

“Well if you’d like me to get bored and burn the apartment down, that is an option.”

“Be my guest. I have others.”

“Humble.”

Dark rage hums under the surface. Jungkook moves around his kitchen slowly. He places a glass delicately on the counter, pulling the cork from the bottle before pouring himself amber liquid. You sniff. Whiskey of some sort.

Jungkook is silent, but his mind is a torrent of emotions. Blood pounds beneath the surface, a beast begging to escape. You can almost taste the chaos within him and yet… he keeps it there. Sipping his drink and leaning on the counter as he looks at the floor.

“Namjoon thinks I should kill you,” Jungkook mentions.

“Unsurprising.”

“Yoongi does too.”

You shrug. “The way of the fox is unknown to me.”

Jungkook’s mind is wide open. You reach for it while he sips his whiskey. He doesn’t register as you brush against his thoughts, trying to sort through them. His mental is in chaos, thoughts racing through his head and flashes of his brother being cut down. Of Kita’s screaming.

“Do you know what those things were?”

You picture the creatures at the party. Their staggered steps, their rotting breath. “Something made, not born.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means I’ve seen a lot of creatures for the hundreds of years that I have been alive, but I’ve never seen whatever those were. Those things are not natural.”

“Most of what is in this world isn’t natural.”

“They are not natural to any plane. I felt…” You trail off and shrug your shoulders.

Navigating his mind while it’s in chaos is hard. You’re looking for the thread of conversation from earlier that night, trying to understand what Jungkook had been talking about when he trailed off about being prepared for assassination attempts. But it’s convoluted and murky.

Jungkook glances up at you. His face is a mask. You must admit you’re impressed by the way he looks calm and collected with the storm raging inside of him, threatening to crack the façade at any moment. “Felt what?”

“You didn’t feel them? Like the way you feel me?”

“Are you telling me you’re one of- “

“No,” you cut him off. “Not in the sense of they are me. But you couldn’t feel them like… dots on a radar. Little signatures of something?” He shakes his head. You hum for a moment, letting the silence hang in the air before you say, “Your untrained mind nearly got me killed.”

A ripple of anger goes through him and his thoughts become more confusing. You sense him boiling under the surface, a steady tremor building and building and building.

A frenzy. Jungkook is nearing a frenzy. If you could get him to fall into it…. you examine him. Coming down from a frenzy would put him in a state of compliance and exhaustion, making his mind open to sift through like forgotten paperwork.

You decide to incense him.

 “I mean it,” you snap when he doesn’t answer you. You square your shoulders and let your power drop into the room. “Your level of incompetence is worse than seraphim children. Total lack of discipline and an embarrassment to someone who was sired by Sariel.”

A flip switches.

Jungkook is pushing off the counter and moving toward you but you stand your ground, chin lifted, gaze cutting. His mask has slipped a fraction, lip curled. “What did you just say?”

“I said that your utter lack of control is insulting and beneath your station.”

“You are in no position to speak to me like that.”

You splay your hands. Jungkook heaves a few feet away from him. You see the wheels turning, sense his adrenaline shooting upward. You needle him further. “I think we both agreed that here, I’m in a position to do whatever I want.”

Jungkook is fast. He’s in front of you in moments, hand shooting out to grab you by the throat. You’re not surprised by the action as he slams you against a wall, sneering. But you are surprised by the giddy delight that shoots up your spine as his fingers close tightly around your base.

When he squeezes, it isn’t to cut off your air supply. You recognize the sign of dominance, the grip he has on a vulnerable part of you. It’s the most instinctual form of an alpha trying to regain the upper hand and you’re so delighted that you laugh.

“I own you,” Jungkook whispers. “Whether you want it, or whether I want to. I signed your papers. You are legally mine.”

You lift a leg and wrap it around Jungkook’s waist, tugging him toward you. He balks, hand going slack around your throat as your hips press against his. A wave of pleasure rolls through you but you focus on the way Jungkook stutters, pulling back from you.

“Yeah?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. “You have the upper hand, dominus?” His fingers tighten but he doesn’t respond. You roll your hips into his, feeling the confidence from a moment ago slip through his fingers like sand. “What happened? I thought you owned me?”

“You are walking a dangerous line.”

“You’re doing nothing about it.”

“What do you want from me?” he grits out, teeth clenched. He’s shaking, loss of control so near.

“You own me?” you goad. “Then fucking use me, Jungkook. You’re two seconds from a fucking demonic frenzy and you don’t even have the sense to fall into it.”

“I don’t do that.”

You lean forward. He leans away but you crowd his space, eyes searching. You notice a mole just below his flush mouth, something you’ve never seen before. It’s soft. Endearing. You ignore the observation as your mouth brushes close to his, sharing breath.

“You’re afraid of your demon,” you purr. He says nothing, breathing heavily as he watches you, pupils dilated. “Weak.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Then feed the demon, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hesitate. You watch him, his jaw working and his eyes staring at you. You see the moment he gives over control to the demon part of him, pupils turning into saucers as his hand grips your throat tight. He leans forward, pressing in on your space until you’re chest to chest and his mouth is at the shell of your ear.

“If you wanted me to fuck you, why didn’t you just ask?”

Your hands go to his biceps, digging your nails in. He hisses, fingers pressing into the sides of your neck to restrict your breathing. “I thought you owned me,” you taunt. “I’m allowed to ask?”

It’s the final push he needs.

A shift happens in Jungkook. Swiftly, he drops you and flips you, slamming you chest first into the wall. It knocks the wind from your lungs, making you gasp as he crushes himself against you, nosing your ear. His breath is hot, sending chills down your spine. You grin, knowing you’ve got him going in the right direction.

You press your ass backwards into him, feeling his semi-hard cock in his pants. In his state, it doesn’t even need to be you Jungkook is attracted to. His demon side is wild, hungry to do anything to destroy, to fuck, to kill.

Demon frenzies enhance lust and violence, like adding fuel to a fire. Jungkook’s flame is stoked, his agony over his family members and his frustration blinding him as he rips the back of your shirt open, your scares and flesh on display for him.

“You want to be fucked like I own you?” he asks, voice low. “Fine.”

It's nothing new, being fucked like you’re owned. But this is different – it feels different. When Jungkook’s hands brush up your spine, they’re not violent. They’re inquisitive. Callused. You shiver under his touch, eyes shutting as he pulls the fabric of the ruined shirt off you.

Your nipples are pressed to the wall, providing friction. You give into it, letting that blissful stimulation bloom inside of you as he nudges your head to the side with his nose.

“Spread your legs,” he demands. His voice is barely a whisper. You do. “Not so talkative now, are we?”

“Is my commentating part of fucking me like you own me, dominus?”

A loud rip splits the air. Jungkook tears through your sweats, warm hands seeking the flesh of your ass. He grips your cheeks firmly, massaging the flesh as he ruts against you slightly. You moan, surprisingly not for effect but at the way you feel.

Rare is the occasion in which someone made you feel good during sex. It isn’t what you’re after, but it’s a bonus, letting Jungkook slip his hand between your legs to brush his finger through your folds. You're not dripping for him, but you let out a breathy sound as pleasure unfurls low in your stomach when he does it.

Even out of control Jungkook shows restrain. Your fascinated, split between panting against the wall as Jungkook’s skill fingers circle your clenching hole, gathering your wetness to slip toward your clit, applying light pressure as he circles the bundle of nerves.

Jungkook dedicates time to getting you worked up. His breath is warm against your ear, low grunts shooting more arousal straight to your core. For the first time in years, you’re dripping for someone. You can feel the slick on Jungkook’s fingers, your pussy warm and swollen for him as he continues to play with you.

Taking control of Jungkook’s thoughts is far from your mind now. You're distracted, fists pressing into the wall as Jungkook slips a finger into your entrance. You gasp, the pad of his finger brushing against your front wall, massaging your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you swear, seeing stars.

It becomes clear Jungkook knows what he’s doing, fucking his finger into you. You can hear the wet-slap of his hand against your pussy, worked up for him now as his clothed cock presses into your ass cheek.

“Such a tight fucking pussy,” he mutters. He doesn't seem to be talking to you as much as himself. “Cock is never gonna fuckin’ fit in here. Hmm. Oh well.”

He pulls his finger from you. You let out an angry sound, eyes flying open to glare at him over your shoulder. He pops the finger in his mouth, momentarily dumbing you as you watch him suck the shine from his finger. He doesn’t look at you when he’s done, hand working to pop the button on his jeans and tug his cock out.

When you look down, you realize that Jungkook is right. He might not fit, and it sends a little thrill through you, watching the way his heavy cock bobs against his shirt, dabbing it with precum as Jungkook only pulls his pants down enough to fuck you.

You’ve spent years tirelessly bouncing on a variety of cock and diving between the legs of mistress after mistress. Sex is not a stranger to you. Sometimes you remember vaguely enjoying a thing or two. Sometimes even when you didn’t like it, your body at least orgasmed.

Being used is something familiar – but you’re not being used now. Even if Jungkook thinks you are. Even as he thumbs the precum from the dark tip of his cockhead to spread it down his thick shaft, Jungkook isn’t in control.

You remember that as Jungkook leisurely pumps himself before brushing the tip through your now sticky folds. You press your cheek against the wall, sighing as he teases you. It feels good. You reach out with your mind, brushing Jungkook’s sightly. His walls are down, vulnerable. Your sneer turns into a loud moan when Jungkook pushes into your pussy on the upstroke.

The stretch is painful, your stomach plummeting as Jungkook splits you open. The glide isn’t slow. His instincts take over and he immediately fucks into you hard and deep, slamming your hips into the wall with his full weight with every thrust.

Jungkook fucks the breath out of you. One hand presses your face into the wall, your cheekbones and jaw throbbing with the force of it. His other hand grabs your hips, holding you in position as he fucks himself into you hard.

Pain-laced pleasure shoots through you. The sounds that drip from your mouth isn’t for show. Your toes curl and your head swims at the way he takes control, fingers pressed into your flesh, cock pressing deep deep deep.

You lose yourself in the slap of flesh on flesh and curses. He spits insults at you, and you growl in response, biting one of his fingers that strays too close to your mouth. You taste blood, grinning as the salt and iron tinged with honey pulls on your tongue. He smacks your mouth, the stinging making you trill with high-pitched laughter.

“Crazy Carved bitch,” he slurs. “Is this what you fucking wanted? To be fucked like this?”

“Fuck me harder, Jungkook.”

He presses your skull harder into the wall. For a moment, you think it might crack under the pressure. But you don’t break, and Jungkook listens, driving into you at a pace that would break anyone else. Anything else. But it doesn’t break you and it feels good to know that it doesn’t. To feel the way your pussy flutters around him as he fucks you with abandon.

So many people have tried to break you. So many. Many have almost succeeded, and yet you prevail. You keep going. You survive. You move on. You wait. You win.

Your orgasm mounts. You feel it building inside of you like the same electricity that gathered in that small hall to destroy. It coils and coils and coils. You become short of breath, sucking in hair as you tremble under Jungkook’s weight. His mind is flayed open and raw for the taking but you wait. Not yet not yet not yet.

Jungkook picks up speed. You feel his pace get sloppy and the change in rhythm pushes you over the edge. You come around him with a scream, vision going white as you hold your breath. You feel your entire body seize up, thrashing under him. Jungkook presses you against the wall, trapping you and making you take it as he thrusts one – two – three more times before coming with a curse.

The pace slows. The sweaty tension between you begins to dissipate. You feel Jungkook pull himself out, cum immediately running down your legs. His energy is lower now and when you manage to catch your breath and look at him over your shoulder, he’s swaying on his feet, fucked out expression on his face. He’s flushed, tip of nose red.

Your legs are shaking and sticky. You take a step toward him feeling the slide of your thighs against one another, made slippery by cum. You hold out a hand and he stares at it, eyes wide, expression blank. He’s in the fall after a frenzy, somewhere dazed between thoughts in his head.

Tentatively, Jungkook takes your hand. You leave the torn clothes on the floor, you leave everything. Namjoon surely heard everything, but the Hellhound minds his business as you lead Jungkook to your room. The half demon, half angel is suddenly pliant for you. Soft at the edges. Mute.

You sit him on the bed and he stares at you. Unmoving. Unthinking.

Brushing your mind against his, you feel nothing but static. The buzz of his thoughts is unorganized and sleepy. You keep the connection open, stepping into the bathroom to wash the cum from your legs, the sweat from your back and the blood from your face. You had not even realized that he split your lip.

In your room, Jungkook doesn’t move. He is listless and calm, steady breathing letting you know that he hasn’t gone to sleep just yet, but that he’s not entirely present.

Slipping into clothes and back into the room, you stand in front of him, eyes flickering over his face. Jungkook looks at you but he’s not really there. A tiny part of you hesitates. Knows that to violate his mind has always been your greatest fear of yourself.

But life isn’t fair, and you have been a slave for hundreds of years. You have suffered and you will suffer again in the future. And though you see something in Jungkook that you recognize, you know that to spare him is to admit weakness.

Pain is inevitable. Pain is constant. Pain is power.

Jungkook knows nothing of these tenants. Knows nothing of the life his mother lived before him, her principles, her heritage.

Sympathy is something you cannot afford to give him. So you push into his mind, seizing his thoughts. He doesn’t put up a fight. He hardly knows what you’re doing as you begin sorting through what’s there.

Minds are unique to each person. Though some of your fallen companions had similarities in the way their memories and thoughts were laid out, everyone had something unique. Jungkook’s mind feels like a thunderstorm at night, soft with the threat of something more. Something melancholy plays there, a tune that is familiar, but you cannot place.

You sift through the night's events. You see things through his eyes. Feel the contempt for those around him. Feel the apathy for the Vanir leashed to chairs and in cages. Feel the unfettered spark of adoration when he sees Kita. Feel the love for his brother, though you had not sensed it upon meeting Jihoon.

And there is love there. Maybe not in the form that humans or texts perceive it. But you taste the sweetness of the affection, and you understand that there are positive emotions when Jungkook looks at his older brother, no matter how complicated.

You sift through to running through the tunnels. Jungkook feels glad that he prepared. They had been worried as of late – there were confirmed movements of the rebel group Libram in the city. Confirmations of assets destroyed and vanishing members of the local government.

This surprises you. You were not aware that the rebels were so familiar with the city yet. The thought of the free cities is so distant from you that it feels odd to conceptualize that there are members of their organization in Lythos.

You follow the thread of Jungkook’s conversation with you from earlier.

But we are always prepared. It’s not often that someone tries to assassinate us, but...

But Jungkook had known that there was a growing presence of Libram in the city. And Belial had tortured you repeatedly for information on Libram, looking for any connection to the rebellion. To Michael. To the last remaining seraphim across the worlds.

You take a sharp breath. Jungkook’s feelings regarding Libram were wary. Laced with uncertainty and fear. You follow those thoughts, flipping through his memories looking for more information. Four assassinations on government officials. The destruction of one of the Kim’s synth mines. Liquidation of accounts that belonged to Belial through unknown methods and hackers.

For as long as you had belonged to Faustus to fight, you had kept your head down. You focused on living. Small moves and counter moves. You had not been looking for any news of Libram or their existence in the city, and until now, you had thought there weren’t many in the city. Whispers of the potential but nothing like what you’re seeing in Jungkook’s thoughts.

Carefully, you extract your mind from his and sit on the bed. With him tired and swaying, you offer him a nudge to go to sleep. He lays backwards, dark lashes fluttering shut. You watch him for a while, thoughts ruminating on the new information.

Libram being in the city is a factor that you did not calculate. You chew on your lips as you think of your next move. One way to gather the information you need would be through your Vanir contacts. You have so few. But the best way to get good information is through your Vaesen contacts, which are even fewer.

You think about the twisted creatures that killed Jungkook’s family. They did seem like... angels and demons twisted together. Like the stitching together of things that didn’t belong. Half-demons, half-angels were rare to begin with. But it was like they were trying to make something else.

Belial’s question comes back to you about Lilins. The children of Lilith herself, born from her savage rape of the Heavens, but specifically, the archangels. Unique creatures, with the perfectbalance. Enough demon blood to hide the angelic blood, and enough angelic blood to hide the demon.

The flicker of familiarity you felt when fighting those creatures sends a sinking feeling to the pit of your stomach. You look at Jungkook, asleep. He looks gentle in his sleep, lines smoothed out on his face. Round and childlike.

In the morning, you’ll go back to pretending. But for now, you pull your knees to your chest, setting your chin on top of them as you consider the options before deciding that you need to follow the sick feeling that twists your gut.

Because if you’re suspicions are right... Libram made those creatures that killed Jungkook’s family tonight, targeting Belial and his children. It puts you in a dangerous position, but also a favorable one if Libram discovers your existence and grows curious about how useful you might be.

Yet none of it relieves you. Because if those creatures are what you think they are, there are seraphim in the world that are trying to bring Lilins back to the fight. Lilins, the creatures solely responsible for bringing the Heavens down.

-

D E F I N I T I O N S

Adamas - metal made from the Heavens, favorite in weapons used by angels and fae

Carved – angels who have had their wings surgically removed and sold for ownership. The possession of an angel’s wings gives the owner power over the angel’s grace, thereby giving them power over the angel.

Collared – a Vanir who is owned as a slave. They are often identifiable by the custom collars their masters put on their necks.

Dominus – term used by a slave to their male identifying master

Huli jing - Chinese fox spirit; similar to the Kitsune

Lilins - the offspring of the First Demon, Lilith, an the seraphim, most notably with the angels Uriel and Raphael. They are the perfect balance of Vanir and Vaesen and were used as spies during the war.

Seraph - a single angel, one of the seraphim

Seraphim - species of angels associated with Christian heaven, soldiers of God

Triumvirate – the three Lords who rule the Realms – figures of the Underworld

Vaesen – creatures associated with Underworld Realms such as demons, daevas, sorcerers, vampires, wraiths, and monster-like creatures

Vanir – creatures associated with Heaven Realms such as angels, faeries, witches, dragons, demigods and any heavenly-like being

-

I am no longer doing a tag list. After several attempts to get this tag list to work and Tumblr refusing to tag correct/process the post, I just took them off. I'm removing taglists for 2023 anyways because of how difficult tagging has become (incorrect usernames, Tumblr eating tags, copy and pasting not working).

/ PREVIOUS / NEXT CHAPTER 

[anexperimentallife]

Are You There? Are You Safe? Is The Flock Safe?

(I'm posting the full text of some stories I've sold, but for which the rights have reverted to me. This is the second story I ever sold--an 800 word flash piece I wrote for Daily Science Fiction--and they bought it just in time for me to buy a needed prescription. It's not my usual style, but I'm proud of it, especially since none other than Cat Rambo said it made her cry.)

--

Even this close to the desert, the sun finds enough cloud on which to paint its retirement colors. Turner Bray sits beside an almost-dry stream under a Joshua tree while the oranges and yellows and reds and pinks fade into one another, and listens to the birds.

They are not Original birds, of course; the stores of avian DNA were among the many things damaged on the voyage here, centuries ago. They might look like Original birds, and hatch from eggs like Original birds, but they are partly carbon filament and nanotubes, and they grow tiny processors in their brains to guide them--with varying degrees of success--toward Original bird behavior.

This flock--Turner's flock--comprises both parakeets and cockatiels, as well as a mated pair of African Grays and an elderly Amazonian Parrot. Original Birds did not mix like this in the wild, and that is part of why Turner is here; to learn more about how these birds differ in behavior from Originals so that new designs can take into account the failures of the past.

As the light fades, the birds start up the evening chatter that binds them as a flock in much the same way it must have for Original birds. They speak in chirrups and sweels and little squawks that ask, "Are you there? Are you safe? Is The Flock safe?" And they answer each other, "I am here. I am safe. The Flock is safe."

To pass the days and weeks, Turner teaches himself to imitate the bird calls, becoming fluent enough to engage in their daily reassurances. Sometimes he spreads crumbled rations on the ground and calls out in their language, "Food! Food! There is food here!" After a while, most will eat tidbits directly from his hand, and after a longer while they seem to accept as one of them this wingless giant who speaks the language of the flock.

The birds have names for each other. They give Turner a name, as well--a simple, trailing squawk--and even contact-call to him when he moves out of sight. "Where are you? We can't see you! Are you safe?"

On the day of the snake attack, Turner is recording. Although he should simply observe, his first reaction is to raise the alarm. "Snake! Snake! Protect the chicks!" The snake is menacing the Grays' nest, but it is a little cockatiel--his real name is a lilting whistle, but Turner has dubbed him Geronimo for his bravery--who throws himself at the snake's eyes, protecting the chicks for the scant second it takes the rest of the flock to descend in a fury of beaks and claws and battering wings.

When the battle is done, Geronimo lays on his side on the ground flapping one wing and peeping feebly. The lump in Turner's throat surprises him, but more so the reaction of the flock. Original birds would have left Geronimo to die or--depending on the species--finished him off. But these birds form a protective circle around their fallen hero, and several of the smaller ones line up to press their beaks to Geronimo's to feed him the snake meat they've consumed.

They are not just different from Original birds, Turner thinks, but--as blasphemous as the idea may be in a world where terraforming has become a religion--better than Original birds. Yet, because they are not enough like Original birds, they will be phased out and replaced over the next five years.

For the first time since he was a small child, Turner weeps openly.

Years pass. Turner is an old man, now; too old for field research, many say, but he manages to acquire a grant, even so. His new study will take him to the edge of a different desert, far from the intentionally terraformed parts of the world, but to a place where Terran life has, nonetheless, taken hold. Most importantly, it will take him far away from the "civilization" he no longer wants to be a part of. The one that saw fit to destroy something beautiful simply because it was not what they had imagined it should be.

After setting up camp, he wheels the heavy cryogenic sample cases out of the back of his vehicle. Most biologists carry empty cases to the field and return with full ones, but Turner is doing the opposite. By the time anyone discovers what he has stolen it will be too late.

The first chicks hatch after a couple of weeks, and Turner speaks to them in the language of birds. "We are here. We are safe. The Flock is safe."

(Also, my health is failing, and I need to get back to the US where I can use my medical benefits if I'm going to live to see my daughter grow up. If you'd like to help, please see this post.)

[marrowhyena]

Anonymous Coward asked: is it a good or bad thing that so many VNs are releasing front-to-back? i feel like for most professional writing that would be a "first draft" that you wouldn't dare release without further editing, but it does seem like some people are making it work?

In an ideal world the 1.0 version of every FVN would be a full rewrite. I say rewrite because when I say "revision" people take it to mean fixing a sentence or paragraph here and there. Spot checks. But from what little I understand about fiction writing, the editorial process tends to be way more involved than that. Authors find their stories, their characters, their themes while they write that first manuscript, but then you look back at it and it's full of structural problems and orphaned ideas, etc. 

Your results may vary, but yeah there are a LOT of reasons why you wouldn't want to write a story linearly and release it in that form. You change your mind, or you change as a person and start making different decisions without realizing it because by the end of the process you're years older. And it may be harder to make changes in the end because your works are public and have fans that will object to alterations to their woobies. 

That said, yeah, there are stories that are released in this way. A decent number of famous novels we know today were once released chapter by chapter in old magazines. Manga still does this, and a lot of mangaka seem to be able to pull it off. Some seem to have more of a plan than others, though I think most manga has strange cul-de-sacs that are indicative of their medium. It's not inherently wrong that the Patreon model for FVNs makes them more webcomic than novel. 

And hey, it's better to create badly than not at all. I feel paralyzed when I think about writing anything because I feel like I need to figure out how to make it engaging, how to make it meaningful, how to know where it's all going to go, etc without having any prior experience writing such a long story. Add on top of that my own expectation that I should revise it all and it sounds exhausting. Though I've also got the critic's dilemma where because I have public opinions about stuff that means whatever I make has to come out good or it's used against me. Yay. 

 [Smile or comment on the answer here](https://retrospring.net/@Boring_Keith/a/113058045543837392)

[grim-wildwood]

Wands

(For the Wildwood Witch)

•☽────✧˖°˖⛤˖°˖✧────☾•

Most of the public has seen Harry Potter or engaged in fantasy-based media, where wands act as a magickal tool to make objects levitate, cast spells, or make things explode.

The truth is: wands are both real and magickal.

However, it is important not to let the "power" of fictional wands downplay the power of real ones.

One thing I will always advise against is using the Wizarding World as a guide for choosing a wand. Remember that it is entirely fictional information meant to add depth to a story rather than genuine information. I add this warning due to the fact that researching wands leads directly to information pulled from this resource quite often.

So, from the words of a high priestess, here are how wands work, how to tailor them to you, and the five best choices of wood!

How Wands Work

•☽────✧˖°˖⛤˖°˖✧────☾•

A wand is a sacred tool that represents power and protection. It is a symbolic object that is used during rituals and spells to channel energy and direct it toward a desired outcome. A wand can be made from any type of wood, stone, crystal, or other natural object such as a feather. A wand is considered a tool of spirituality and holding one can help to guide the practitioner and focus their intent during sacred rituals and spells.

When using a wand, a witch would grip it firmly in their hand, pointing the tip of the wand in the direction in which they desire their energy to flow. It is not necessary to make physical contact with the object being targeted or pointed at, as the wand itself possesses the power to draw in and channel necessary energies. While holding the wand, one can begin a chant or focus one's thoughts on a desired outcome. Holding a wand during a ritual or spell can be considered a way to focus one's intent and energy, helping to increase the intensity of the ritual or spell being performed.

In all honesty, there is no need for speaking in Latin or another language when it comes to casting a spell with a wand. As long as a witch speaks a simple statement with their intention in the tone they wish to set, all should go as planned.

Tailor Your Wand

•☽────✧˖°˖⛤˖°˖✧────☾•

As a witch of the wildwood, I would avoid buying premade wands for my craft unless they were custom-made to my specifications and sourced ethically. While a premade wand is perfectly acceptable to use, I find them to lack personality and individual connection. A wand made to be your companion tool versus a wand made to be sold have very different properties. Today, we are focusing on wooden wands. Adding your own charms, designs, color, or carvings is always the best route to go.

How should the wand look?

Well, that's up to you! Your wand could be any shape and size, as long as it has a pointed edge for you to aim. However, if you're looking for where to start, I have some good suggestions for finding basic measurements.

Measure the wand's length to be from the crook of your elbow to the end of your middle finger. Traditionally, wands are between 30 to 50 centimeters (approximately 11.8 to 19.7 inches) long.

1 to 2 inches (approximately 2.5 to 5 centimeters) in circumference is common, though always approach that which is most comfortable to you.

If you decide to use a simple stick found on the ground, consider using the natural bark as the handle, check for rot, and do a sturdiness test. If it breaks, find a new stick. You don't want to get attached to a wand only for it to break later down the line. These kinds of tools stick to a witch for the rest of their journey. Using ethically sourced leather or cloth would also make excellent handle choices. Some people even use copper wire as a wrap.

Stain your wood naturally!

I suggest avoiding synthetic paints. This wand is an extension of the sacred Wildwood and thus should reflect that. Remember, natural dyes tend to vary dramatically depending on the wood, so always do a color test beforehand to be sure it's the perfect color! Oh, and be aware that many of these ingredients are not safe for consumption; they're for coloring only! Here are some materials you can use to color your wand:

Beets Cochineal Powdered Red Sandalwood (yes, you can use another wood to dye yours!) Madder Root

Black Tea (for a lighter look) Coffee (for a mid-toned look) Walnut Hull Powder (for a darker look)

Turmeric Ginger Goldenrod Flowers Onion Skin Safflower

Spinach Nettles Green Tea (for a lighter look) Moss Anything containing chlorophyll!

Woad Dogwood Fruit

Blackberries Blueberries Red Grape Skins Elderberries Red Cabbage (for a blueish-purple look)

Black Walnut Hulls (condense this to create a much darker tone) Vinegar & Steel Wool (for a grayish desaturated look) White Vinegar, Tea, Salt, and a Metal Object (this is by far the darkest natural stain mixture but should be further researched before attempting.)

Best Wood Types

•☽────✧˖°˖⛤˖°˖✧────☾•

While there are tons of different kinds to choose from, I have chosen the five best woods specifically for those inclined in wildwood or green witchcraft.

Apple Wood

Great durability

Negativity protection

Creative thinking

Psychic insight

Emotional healing

Apple wands are regarded as a supreme choice for the Wildwood witch because they offer excellent strength and a gentle, yet firm power, as well as a protective and healing capacity. Apple wood is also known for its ability to encourage creativity in its wielder. It is the ideal wand wood for fans of herbal and aromatic magick. This kind of wood is also known to have a sweet scent and is my personal choice!

Cherry Wood

Compassion

Self-Esteem

Love

Meditation

Confidence

Cherry wood wands radiate a low and smooth energy that helps its wielders stay grounded and compassionate towards themselves and others. They also tend to have a soothing and calming effect to the wielder and those around them. These kinds of wands offer a supportive and positive energy that reflects back at the user, making cherry wood an excellent choice for the particularly shy or anti-social witch looking for an extra boost. I also find that this particular wand is strong in anti-anxiety spells.

Elderberry Wood

Academic abilities

Problem-solving

Strong protection

Focus

Productivity

Great for the Wildwood witch who mainly practices in home or individual protection, the elderberry wand is known for keeping its user focused on the tasks at hand. It has a stoic and firm energy with a bit of a kick for dispelling hexes.

Willow Wood

All-purpose healing

Protection

Wisdom

Earthly connection

Life energy

While seen as a "basic" base for a wand, this is perfect for all kinds of magick. It is known for its ability to adapt to any spell or incantation. It is great for both beginners and witches with more advanced knowledge, as this wand has a light and airy masculine energy to it, like sunlight. It is associated with the acquisition of knowledge because it is always an open door for trying new things.

Pine Wood

Divination

Discipline

Purification

Reliability

Stability

It is common for these wands to be viewed as old friends. These wands love their owners and show it. Use a pine wand if you need a layer of protection from backfiring spells. They are particularly strong when used in divination work, enchanting and purification of stagnant energy.

•☽────✧˖°˖⛤˖°˖✧────☾•

With that, I hope that you have a lovely day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. To my fellow witches in need of a wand, I hope that I have helped guide you closer to the perfect companion tool for you!

[overlord-of-chaos]

Thoughts on the end of Good Omens 2, as an aroace

So, I'm going to preface this with a few things, since I would very much like anyone who does choose to read this to do in good faith, and I would like to establish my own. Firstly, this is absolutely not a criticism of anybody's headcanons. Crowley and Aziraphale, of all characters, have incredible potential for headcanoning, and I love seeing the fandom's wide and varying interpretations. Secondly, what you see here is not a complete and entire reflection of my opinions of the characters mentioned or the show. It is very specifically me airing my grievances and concerns and venting because I cannot cope with not saying anything at all. I love Good Omens, but I am not going to add caveats to my every sentence to make sure that you, the reader, are certain I'm not just bashing one of the most fantastically queer shows I know. Thirdly, if you vehemently disagree with everything I'm saying here, you're free to ignore it. This is not for you. You're also free to ignore it if you do agree, but at this point I'm going on the assumption that that'll be a smaller portion of whatever audience this reaches anyway. Fourthly, if you are in a similar position to me and sort of spiralling at the prospect of your comfort QPR not being a QPR anymore, then maybe you should read the bullet points at the end. I've sort of got my shit together by then.

So, that said, I would like to take this post as an opportunity to say that I worry about where Good Omens is going. Not in a plot-related sort of way as such, we all know it'll all be alright in the end, more in terms of representation - specifically, whether, by the end of the show, I'll be able to see myself in the characters anymore.

Now, why is this? Well, as you may have guessed from the title, I'm aroace. And when I first saw the Good Omens show, I hadn't really been involved in the fandom at all. This is due to a variety of reasons, including that I wasn't on any of the platforms that enable me to engage in fandom now, and because I'd only read the book a couple of months prior. I didn't know, as I do more now, that one of the main interpretations of the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale before the show came out was romantic, and I wasn't expecting to see that in the show. I don't tend to expect romance in most circumstances. I more end up picking up on the common tropes used to develop romantic relationships in fiction and observe with little enthusiasm as a character dynamic 'blossoms' into something I cannot comprehend. (This is not to say I dislike romance in everything. I simply dislike it being the one and only significant dynamic in pretty much everything all the time.)

I was well aware that the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale in the show had been expanded and developed along the lines of a romantic relationship, and I really liked the way it was handled. But at no point did I think this meant that their relationship had to be read as romantic. I thought I could see something of myself in them, and see a relationship that was something other than romantic. At the risk of sounding insulting, I did not feel like their relationship could be anything as simple as a romance. I saw two beings who very deeply loved each other in a nonromantic way, and thought hey, maybe this is a dynamic I could see myself in at last. Maybe this isn't the same old kind of love story.

I thought, perhaps naively, that no matter the hinting from the cast and the way that season 1 was set up, there would always be the room to interpret Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship as platonic (or queerplatonic, specifically, as I read it). And then...well, I imagine you all know what happened then.

From a more objective (probably not quite the right word, but can't think of a better one) analytical perspective, the kiss was one of the hardest-hitting moments in any story I've ever watched, or read. The setup was amazing, the acting was impeccable, and I could not imagine anything else having the same impact. As Neil Gaiman himself has said, no one could deny that it happened. I think it was categorically the right narrative choice. That's not what I'm debating here.

What hurts, what really fucking hurts, is that a lot of the time, I don't feel like there's space for my aroace/queerplatonic reading of their relationship anymore. Some of that's on me, because headcanon is headcanon and there's no reason why I should assume my reading of the relationship is wrong, or canonically impossible. (I mean, Ineffable Bureaucracy is canon. Anything is possible in this fandom.) However, it does mean that I do not quite have the same ability to bury my head in the sand and say that Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship is not set up to be read specifically as a romance.

What worries me is that I am very well aware that I am in a disappointed minority when thinking that their relationship will continue to unfold by hitting key romantic plot points until the door for an aroace interpretation isn't even left ajar. I am in a minority that the writers of Good Omens will likely never hear, and even if they do, I certainly wouldn't expect them to change the coming plot for me.

Most people take the kiss as explicit confirmation that the love between Crowley and Aziraphale is romantic. There's the occasional 'it's okay, they can still be ace!' post dotted around, but no one seems to be talking about the possibility of them being aromantic anymore. They weren't doing that much previously, admittedly, but all I seem to see, from other aro people included, is discussion around how they're feeling about the romance between them being made canon, while I'm sitting here thinking is that the only thing that kiss is allowed to mean? It means that I find myself wondering whether I should give up on seeing the relationship as nonromantic, if only so that I am not as disappointed when season 3 rolls around. (There had better fucking be a season 3. Amazon better fucking pay the writers, pay the actors and renew shit instead of just cancelling it.)

I think one of the main things that makes me uncomfortable is the assumption that the next logical step in Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship is sexual. Because that's how these things normally go, right? You have an ostensibly platonic relationship with romantic undertones, then it becomes explicitly romantic, and then the next 'natural' progression is sexual. It's the same thing every single time. I think it's been vaguely mentioned that they're asexual by virtue of not being human (almost all ace rep being in nonhuman characters is a whole other essay and not something I'm going to get into here), by Neil a few times and in the book, but since I wasn't expecting there to be so little space to read their relationship as nonromantic, I don't know that I can continue to expect it to seem nonsexual too.

And even if that's not the route they take, I don't know that I can trust them not to play up a romantic dynamic, particularly when I think a lot of people would be disappointed if the relationship is 'just' platonic, or platonic-leaning. And I get that, I do. We've been queerbaited enough, but that doesn't mean that something not being romantically queer means it isn't queer at all. I have no idea how one would manage to frame a relationship as explicitly and specifically queerplatonic; there isn't really a template for it (though my god would I love for Good Omens to be the show that makes one). I imagine it would be much more realistic to perhaps hope for something that isn't exclusively and explicitly romantic.

One of my concerns, of course, with a queerplatonic route is that it would be upsetting to people who do see them as a romantic couple to have that door be closed to them (I really don't wish an experience like that on anyone), and that it would leave more space for queerphobic assholes to claim that they're 'just friends'. But I've spent my life hoping for a story that doesn't push platonic love to the wayside when there's the potential for romance, especially when the relationship starts out as something brilliantly compelling and nonromantic. I've spent my life trying not to internalise the idea that the way I love, the only way I can love, isn't enough, even when it seems to be the message that's being shouted with almost every story I ever encounter. A lot of the time, it doesn't bother me anymore. I'm used to it by now. But most of the stories I know haven't meant as much to me as Good Omens. I didn't see the same space to read a relationship in a nonromantic way as I did in Good Omens.

Anyway. I figure either I post this, two people read it and then it disappears into the aether, or I wake up tomorrow morning and find I have made enemies of over half the GO fandom. It doesn't really matter. I think I have accomplished what I wanted to do when I started writing, which was to lay everything out logically for myself so that the mounting evidence not in my favour did not seem quite so insurmountable. And honestly? It doesn't anymore. My brain is very often my own worst enemy, and articulating my emotions somewhere means that I can look at all of this and conclude the following:

Most of the reason why I do not think I can view Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship as nonromantic anymore is because everyone else thinks the ending confirms their hopes of it definitely being romantic. If nothing else, I'm genuinely delighted that it's bringing so many people that joy. We all deserve that kind of joy, and all the canonically queer relationships media has to offer. If nothing else, there is so much joy to take in other people's wholehearted adoration of what season 2 meant to them.

Most of my concerns about how season 3 will go are largely unfounded and entirely hypothetical. Most of it hasn't even been written yet, and can't be until the WGA strike is over anyway, so no one can even hint at how it'll go because it is not, in fact, going.

People will read what they will into Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship dynamic, and so can I! Such are the joys of varying interpretation and headcanon and all that jazz.

One kiss does not close any queerplatonic (or aroace) doors. Nor would a hundred. One of the many joys of queerplatonic relationships is that they can be whatever the fuck you want them to be, including a dynamic that would typically be read as romantic, but isn't.

A romantic relationship is not inherently superior to a platonic one. A romantic relationship is not inherently superior to a platonic one. A romantic relationship is not inherently superior to a platonic one, and nothing in the canon of Good Omens has ever stated this not to be true.

No one who is involved in Good Omens has ever at any point, to my knowledge, said that Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship has to be romantic, or even implied that one must see it that way, or that seeing it otherwise means seeing it as lesser. I am reading this into things because I expect it of the world. I should probably stop.

Short of some truly spectacular feats that may or may not be illegal, there is absolutely nothing I can do to influence the people creating the show, so what I get is what I get. If I can't change it, I might as well enjoy it. There's so much to enjoy, after all. No point stressing over maybes.

If you got this far, I am impressed, I'm not sure I'd have read this much. I hope that this post perhaps gives you a little to think about, preferably a positive something. I also hope that you bear in mind that this is a rather venty braindump and should not be taken as a damning indictment of anything or anyone. I'll probably delete this sometime soon, but I was seized by an urge to say something, and so say something I have, even if I probably forgot at least half my original points.

[7habitsofhighlyeviceratedpeople]

the ppl in this fandom who r like “criticizing proshippers is stupid in a fandom like Outlast” are absolute weirdos and i do not trust them. just bc it’s darker subjects/media etc doesn’t mean it’s okay to be fetishizing peoples trauma or any sort of glorification of certain topics. i feel like serious critical thinking skills mixed w some light media literacy would srsly help here. i’m so glad a lot of y’all are normal but at the same time a lot of ppl act like they are better than others bc they don’t engage in “discourse” or “drama” bc their black and white mindsets (don’t come @ me i have autism AND bpd black and white mindset is my normal) doesn’t allow them to not take everything at face value and they refuse to see that things r srysly so varying and circumstantial, and applying a “this fandom is for a horror game filled w dark subjects therefore nobody should complain about anything and it should all be okay” like bro it’s not being hypocritical, please use common sense and stop speaking on shit like you are better than others just bc you’re totally fine with anything ppl do so long as “they know fiction from reality” and the rest of y’all’s stupid fucking POVs. like please see how dumb this is and how you are enabling weirdos! probably bc you are a weirdo yourself or just severely uneducated i mean half of y’all are kids and one mf i saw was almost 40 saying “leave proshippers alone” no? the fuck i won’t? it’s sick seeing my trauma be basically romanticized/glorified just bc it’s fiction. y’all just bc it’s fiction doesn’t make everything okay. there’s ethical dark fiction and unethical dark fiction, and many reasons why each one is the way it is. Outlast is so special to me because it’s not only just an amazing, interesting story filled with dynamic characters who are so memorable and unique. the care at which the subjects r approached is incredible and i feel like we as a fandom have a pretty good understanding of why certain things are just NOT okay. i mean the person who started this whole thing was like “if you are attracted to coyle you should treat him with the same treatment you give proshippers” and it just shows they have no clue what they are talking abt and why that doesn’t line up. like coyle or hate him he is an amazing character and it goes without saying that NOBODY not me, not red barrels, not Coyle Nation condones a goddamn thing he does. we don’t like him or Eddie or Trager for the problematic parts of them ? Y’all lack a vital understanding of the message and purpose behind the topics and character traits explored, and when i know i don’t understand smthn i look into it before speaking on it acting like i’m better than everyone and have some hot take. srsly some of y’all do not belong in this fandom. those of you who have brain cells left, ILY 😽

[endlessburningdarkness]

its incredibly funny when people dismiss any critique of their faves as "it's fictional! and "why do engage if you hate x?" as if the only way to enjoy a story is uncritical consumption. as if it being fictional means it should be absolved of critique? for one, if its genuinely meaningless fiction to you, why does critique of it bother you so much?

for another, it's also kind of insulting to the entire tradition of storytelling and critique. which is a fundamental component of the human race. saying it's fiction therefore it doesn't matter what it implies or suggests or how it treat's its characters or the message it sends... as if stories aren't what human culture is built off of. all those great myths? fiction. propaganda? fiction. religion? fiction. politics? ads? games? music? it's all storytelling. hell even our economic and moral ideas are fictions we believe in and enforce. money is a collective fiction that runs the world.

if it's so meaningless then why do you care about it getting critiqued? why does a different interpretation bother you so much? come to think of it, why are you even in the fandom? why do you care about any of the characters at all? why bother reading, writing, drawing them if it's all meaningless fiction no one should ever analyse?

obviously you're here because it isn't meaningless, it has a real life impact on you. it brings you joy. it has real impact. fiction is a real thing created by real people with real effects. how many inventions do you think were inspired by sci fi? why do you think some fictional books were banned? why do you think representation matters? because we see ourselves in stories, we communicate with stories, we spread, critique and bond over fucking fictional stories!

so of course it matters, all of it, characters, themes, analysis, message and critique. critique comes out of love for the story's potential. i care that it could have been better in this or that way, so i point it out. if you can't see the story's flaws, it's potential, it's good and bad, do you really love it as much as you claim? if you can't concede someone else could interpret it differently, are you really appreciating the nature of stories as mediums of varied perception?

[angie-long-legs-moved]

//some thoughts on valentino as someone who really loves his character bc I see a lot of takes that really lack any form of nuance

enjoying a fictional villain is... not synonymous with supporting their actions, which feels so weird to say because surely that's just obvious? everyone loves a villain! we love to love them, we love to hate them! no heros without villains, bb. it's fiction! characters are tools for story telling and demand all sorts of emotions from the reader.

but I do think there is a bit of a misconception when it comes to characters who are sexually abusive. I've heard a few people say that sa is treated as the highest offence beyond what other villainous characters engage in (murder, genocide, cannibalism etc) which I don't think is the intention? it's just that a character that is sexually (as well as physically and emotionally) abusive, written to realistically portray an abuser who victimises a sympathetic main character is going to affect the audience on a deeper level than a character whose brand of villainy is less commonly experienced outside of fiction, and therefore written with less depth to this aspect of their character. it is the intention of the writers that valentino abusing angel makes you upset and uncomfortable whereas alastor being a cannibal serial killer is fun and edgy.

maybe it goes without saying buuuut sa and dv? really common! most people will have experience with some kind of abuse or mistreatment during their life! seeing it depicted in fiction triggers all kinds of reactions from survivors. some are in the camp of hating val, some really love him. some people find val and angel's story cathartic, some people find it triggering. I imagine that most of us who are sa/dv survivors feel both extremes to varying degrees. all this to say that valentino as a villain is so impactful not because he is the most evil but because he is the most recognisable.

fiction is a wonderful vessel for truth. in general, I think we should all be more kind to eachother regarding how fiction makes us feel. there is no "wrong" way for a character to affect you - we are all reacting through the lense of our own stories.

[archivalofsins]

So, let's talk about Milgram fandom and isms. This has been a long time coming. Plus putting it in the dog cat post I was drafting up would take attention from the main point so here we are.

So, isms are thrown around a lot when it comes to Milgram's writing and the fandom perception of characters.

Now, I've done this too. I'm not immune I am only human as well. I've discussed racism, fascism, sexism, ablism and I don't particularly plan to stop doing so. Because these are all things that color my worldview and matter to me. I believe these things should matter to everyone. They are firm social biases that disenfranchise every person that lives on this earth and are worthy of being discussed.

Yet, I must be emotionally honest for a moment. The reason I discuss things and isms to the extent that I do is simply because isms are easier to understand and identify than the root problem would be. Because if I were to discuss what I believe the root problem to be it would hurt a lot of feelings.

Because when I discuss the use of these isms it is not in the context of Milgram the series but Milgram the audience. Something that I believe should be discussed in a civil but firm way. Because it is a firm judgement of many people, I do not personally know but have seen how their biases are displayed and from my own experiences have formed an opinion on that display.

I discuss it this way because the content in Milgram is very up to interpretation. It gives people what they take away from it. Nothing more nothing less. So, the opinions we form from what is presented does say something about the type of people we are. Milgram very seldom hard confirms anything.

There's evidence of what is or has occurred throughout the songs but Milgram doesn't look directly at the camera and go this is what they did you're right and give the viewer a little thumbs up. This is why all our opinions on information can remain so varied and voting can conflict in the way that it does. Despite the fact we're all working with the same information.

So, what's this thing I've been holding off on discussing under the guise of isms. Well, it's the big P where all biases come from-

Privilege

If you don't think you have let's take stock in check.

A. The priviliege to content for free and shared information.

B. The priviliege to judge others with no possibility of negative repercussion to oneself. Be it anonymously or openly.

Yet, in turn Milgram's staff has priviliege as well.

A. The priviliege of a large and supportive fanbase.

A fanbase is a very lucrative and helpful thing. Yet at the same time it can turn into a doubledge sword of sorts.

B. The priviliege of having the engagement that work hinges on.

If no one voted nothing would anything within Milgram change? If it was all 50/50 would it impact anything. An effect cannot happen without a cause.

So ultimately the fanbase and Milgram are in a very symbiotic relationship. However, the fans have more power than the staff in this case. If everyone just stopped voting one day would it still be Milgram? If the fans weren't having these discussions would this all still be going the way it's going.

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it. It does make sound but does that sound matter?

In the same vein it's important for individuals to take stock of their own personaly privileges to better examine their personal biases. It is a privilege to have the time to cositently vote on a character whether Innocent (Forgiven) and Guilty (Unforgiven) each day and feel entitled and secure in that judgement. It does say a lot that so many people have the time to consistently go online each day and decide to dogpile on fictional characters in the way they did.

To the extent of making a Kazui Unforgiven Shrine. To the point of this,

Amane was like seventy percent innocent on the day of her songs release. Something that had remained stable in consistency since the beginning of trial two. The fact that hers has gone down the extent it has we people couldn't even make a dent in Mu's goes to show just how hated these two are.

Like people really went on that website each day and voted them guilty pridefully. Comsistently in their judgement of them being wrong. That is commitment that is hater energy.

Without a single thought of, "Should I just mind my business? Don't I have better things to do with my time then make a fictional characters day worse?"

Yuno

Tear Drop

"Just shut it, will you? You know it all."

Futa

Second written interrogation.

Q.18 Do you regret anything?

No, it's them that did something wrong first if they didn't then they wouldn't be here in this narrative.

"I do. What was I even doing that stuff for in the first place?

What other people are doing doesn’t have any impact on me."

Not a single thought of, "Hey, is this too much? Should I lay off."

Mikoto

"Is this selfish? This isn’t too much is it?"

It's okay to vote for any reason though. Even if it's just for fun. Even if I just dislike. I don't have to think too hard about just,

Kazui

"Keep it simple."

If i like I forgive if I dislike I don't. That's all there is to it. Something like that doesn't say a thing about me as an individual. I'm not doing anything wrong.

"Should I show the forgiveness that I would want myself or those close to me to receive if they messed up? If they were in those circumstances..."

Mu

Voice trailer snippet

"How would they know...whether to forgive me or not? People can't understand what I had to go through."

First Voice Drama

"Prison guard you're human as well. So... I'll do my best. I'll figure out what kinda person you're fond of." - "Hm... Actually.. If it think about it, compared to those good for nothing police trying to catch me- Someone's who's definitely not in the wrong. Milgram just might be better for me."

It's Not My Fault

"Hey, what if- If I am a bad girl? Don’t hate me. Don’t even try to prove anything from “After Pain”. Hold on. It’s not my fault! You knew it, right?"

Nope, clicks guilty. Then instead of blaming the fans that are making the choice to do this everyday all by themselves the blame is shifted to the media. There are fans that abstain from voting you know nobody has to be taking advantage of the privilege to vote. No one has to consistently spend their time every day being critical of another persons choices fictional or not.

Like, people are choosing to be here and do that based on their assumptions about the work. I'm no different in that regard. I just have no ill will towards the content as it is because it's not the content that is the issue for me. I just don't like how some people interpret it.

Something that is a clear personal problem and something I do not have to seek out or interact with. Everyone interprets things differently, which should be rightfully respected unless their interpretations are actively causing harm to others. Which under these circumstances I have to state is not people voting anyone's favorite character Guilty in mass even if it feels like it.

Something I have to immediatiely follow with fuck that shrine shit though. Along with the fact that it is incredibly sad to have an in real time example of how easy it is to shift the vote from seventy to fifty because it highlights how widely dogpiled on Mu was this trial and Mikoto was last trial.

My next point is going to be a highly personal one. Based off of my experiences but it's funny to me to see people crying about bad representation so often. Because it highlights a certain aspect of privilege that goes consistently overlooked.

Not all media is about you and if you think it is that's a sign of privilege.

I was discussing this in private, but the way most fans discuss the writing of Milgram truly highlights how privileged a good majority of fans may be. Each time I see statements like this, my immediate response is to go huh most of the individuals who make up this fandom must have never been told,

"If you don't like how you're being represented then go write it yourself. If you don't like how we treat you as a customer then go make your own business."

To have the community they are apart of do exactly that in every possible field and be historcally undermined at every turn.

I just have to recognize that a lot of people haven't grown up seeing those like themselves represented in media as just one specific trope. That rarely ever overlaps with what your experiences are actually like. Then, when people like you do begin creating content of their own, watch them be held to incredibly high standards in regard to inclusivity. Simply because as a minority they should know what it feels like to not be included, so they should do better to be inclusive and represent everyone well. They have a responsibility.

No, they don't. People society routinely ignored don't owe anyone a seat at the table they fucking build. I feel the same can be said here. Yamanaka has consistently discussed overlooked and taboo aspects of Japanese society along with the issues that come from those. The way an artist creates does not need to be sanatized to any one person's specific standards or tastes.

Discussing such topics as the ones being handled here is going to rub many the wrong way at times. Because it is showcasing the aspects of society and the individuals within it that go routinely overlooked and shied away from. Expecting all representation to be squeaky clean and good is harmful. Take it from someone who grew up under the construct of black excellence or look up anything regarding the model minority myth.

There is no exactly right way of being a creator and no one's personal vision is going to please everybody. Creating something like that is actually impossible. Even when representation is heavily sanatized in order to be considered socially acceptable their will still be people who criticize it for being that. Because it doesn't leave room for individuals who don't fit into the norms of society to mess up or be flawed.

It gives this impression that it is on them to be the model citizen at all times or risk ruining it for everyone causing all progress to backslide. Because societies acceptance of your difference is no longer true acceptance but instead a trade where you keep bringing stuff to the table in the hopes it's good enough that they allow you to sit down.

At this point I really believe this is just a culture gap on my part but I did want to say something about it anyway. Not just because I'd personally been avoiding the topic of privilege since entering the fandom myself but to draw more attention to how the audience itself is a character in this narrative. Along with how a good majority of our behavior and reasoning has begun mirroring that of the prisoners in Milgram or Es'.

Because I believe that aspect of Milgram is very interesting! Whelp that's enough of that I'm going back to writing about the dog and cat thing.

[ancientevangelions]

Evangelion, LGBT+ Rights and Time

It is fascinating how readings of Evangelion have changed over time as society varies. In 2012-2015 (and to some degree even now), vocal shippers would bully others if they chose the "wrong" pairings. Reminder to everyone that you choose to engage with fan content, and it is 100% your choice to harass and bully people over their views. Shipping fictional characters should be fun and a way to engage on a different level with fandom, not an exercise in who has the moral high ground. There are shows I will not engage with because I find the canon pairings to trigger my C-PTSD, but I block those tags. (It's Madoka Magica; the third movie starts a violent fear reaction).

When I first watched Evangelion circa 2010, a Trans reading of Evangelion, though not unheard of, was less common than it is now. I grew up in Northern Alberta, Canada, where we knew what gay, straight, and bi were. Still, everything else was not mentioned until after I graduated high school and moved to a bigger city for University in 2009. This led to me doing a lot of self-discovery. I didn't fully embrace my non-binary identity until I turned 28 for various reasons, including personal safety (that would be spring of 2019, for those wondering). I knew my gender identity differed from others because of the LGBT+ club at University, where I would hang out and learn new terminologies, identities, and what consent meant. Still, until recently, people did not talk about LGBT+ identity outside of these circles, especially not in groups with aging populations. Fast forward to now (2023) on Tumblr, when there are so many differences in opinions and interpretations. I wonder if people my age (or older) watched Eva and considered the characters could be anything but straight and cis or if they were shocked by Maya's love for Ritsuko when it was revealed in End of Evangelion. 90s media had a lot of ingrained homophobia and transphobia. You don't need to look further than popular sitcoms like the Simpsons or FRIENDS to see the LGBT+ community ridiculed for a cheap laugh. Western society was very anti-LGBT, and though we have made gains with marriage equality laws in 2005 for Canada, there is still room for improvement.

When I watched NGE/EoE, It was at the start of LGBT+ identities becoming more prevalent in Western media. I watched the ambiguous interactions of episode 24, and I remember thinking how sad it was that Kaworu had to die. The interactions between Shinji and Kaworu did not appear romantic or wholesome while I watched. It seemed tragic and doomed to failure (like Shiniji's previous attempts at gaining understanding.) Upon my first watch, I concluded that Shinji's desperation for affection led to his attraction to Kaworu. It did not seem genuine, and I saw it as less romantic and more as a deeply tragic episode where a broken boy is manipulated by lies of exclusion and ultimately heartbroken because he is once again betrayed and left alone. This reading was solidified for me in EoE when Asuka confronts Shinji with the line that anyone will do in Hell's Kitchen. Shinji is even more frantic and desperate for someone to love and save him and is once again rejected. Shinji wants someone to give him love and support and to understand and help him. The fear and desperation of being left alone make Episode 24 and End of Evangelion incredibly twisted and tragic. Shinji's arc climaxes with the tragedy of human miscommunication, desperation for affection, and the desire for love and understanding without the act.

Hell's Kitchen (End of Evangelion)

There's so much pain in suffering and loneliness. Additionally, I firmly believe Shinji did not/does not love anyone romantically in NGE/EoE. I am not saying he has no potential to love anyone. He is not there yet in his journey. He may have crushes or interests, but romantic love takes Time, communication, compromise, understanding, and so many elements of vulnerability between two people to establish, form, and maintain that connection. Shinji did not have the time to develop a true romantic bond with anyone and was not in a formal relationship. Yes, he kissed Asuka and relied on her for stability/support. He had deep conversations with Kaworu and received unconditional affection. He trusted and depended on Misato. He was curious about Rei and wanted to help her/know more about her. Still, he never took steps to form a romantic partnership, instead preferring to "keep things ambiguous."

Shinji is still figuring things out. The point of NGE and EoE isn't romance. It's figuring out your identity.

This message of misunderstanding and muddling through your identity is likely why it resonates so much with LGBT+ communities because many of us did have to muddle out our difficult questions of identity. It can be intimidating to navigate so much information, especially if you aren't in a safe environment. It feels similar to being attacked by alien forces in a war zone, except instead of Angels, it is hate-filled views, bullying, name-calling, misinformation, and fear. And instead of Evas/NERV, we have GSAs, outreach centres, online spaces, and supportive people that we hope will help us more than they harm us.

I find an element of cultural difference intriguing in Evangelion (and all Japanese anime to some degree). Japanese people interpret scenes very differently from English-speaking Western audiences. Part of the nuance is lost in translation, cultural differences, and the differences in Time that have passed. I highly recommend reading various semi-autobiographical works such as "The Bride was a Boy" or "My lesbian experience with loneliness." to understand the queer experience in Japan better. There are a lot of differences to sort through when we look at different cultures. Unfortunately, Japan has a ways to go on LGBT+ rights, including access to transgender health care and same-sex marriage (which, at the time of writing, is still not recognized in Japan). My point is that culture-to-culture intent in various media, whether written or visual, will be lost. We can, of course, read interpretations, watch video essays, talk to friends, etc. Still, to draw our conclusions, we often would rather watch the source material as "purely" as well as can without interference from other people. This brings in a final theme from Evangelion. We can never understand anyone 100%; only you can completely understand yourself. So whether you agree or disagree with me, remember these are my thoughts and opinions shaped by my life growing up as an LGBT+ Canadian. So be good to yourself, and congratulations.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Safe Haven ~Bang Chan | Day 6.

Pairing: SpaceRebel!Chan x WitchQueen!F.Reader Themes: Fantasy AU | Sci-Fi AU | Royalty AU | Soulmate AU | Slow Burn | Mutual Pining | Angst | Smut | Fluff. Series Warnings: Third person POV · Very loose and liberal usage of Star Wars concepts (mostly to refer to weapons and tech). you don’t need to know anything about SW to read this, trust me · Physical descriptions of the main female character such as: can visibly blush, having long hair, and being short · Violence · Swearing · Mature themes and language · Original characters · Graphic smut (later chapters) · Mentions of the members of other groups (later chapters) · No one is straight, beware · Each chapter will include its own individual warnings. Chapters marked as M (Mature) either include highly detailed violence, or smut.

Chapter Warnings: racism? (within the context of the story). Word Count: ~4k | AO3

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact. ✰This chapter has been reworked as of 16/08/2023

Previous Chapter: Day 5. | Series Masterlist. | Next Chapter: Day 7.

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

The cool breeze of the night filtered pleasantly through the castle windows. A floating orb of light followed their every move as both Chan and the Queen made their way across the numerous corridors, all as an amicable conversation flowed between the two. Updates on the ship’s state, appreciative comments towards the food, Freyja’s first few hunts when she was but a cub, they engaged in some lighthearted small talk to fill in the otherwise silent area.

After a particularly sharp turn, Chan realised they were walking towards the throne room. He was slightly perplexed as they walked past the two heavy doors, and went into the adjacent wing.

“I thought you didn’t want me here”.

The Queen offered him a sheepish smile. “There’s a lot of important stuff in this area. We don’t typically let strangers wander here on their own”.

Chan just hummed in response, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. They walked for a few more minutes until they reached an open area. Freyja immediately plopped down at the very entrance.

The place was spacious, one wall was covered from floor to ceiling in bookcases, with books neatly organised in each crevice. The other walls were filled with paintings of varying sizes and themes. People, scenery, and even objects were painted on the canvases. A handful of animal themed statues dotted the main open area.

But, by far, the most eye-catching piece in the entire room was the back wall, covered entirely by an intricate tapestry.

“Here’s where we keep records of the royal family”, the Queen told Chan. “We’ve got… special traditions. They might as well be as old as the planet itself”.

Her Majesty walked deeper into the hall, and Chan followed suit, until they reached the tapestry hanging on the wall. Numerous portraits of people covered the piece, connected to each other by delicate lines of varying  colours, sizes, and patterns.

“The royal family of Lira Le doesn’t follow the principle of blood and birthright as royals from other planets do. We’re born for and from magic”, the Queen began her explanation as she scanned the names and faces on the tapestry.

“Our family is connected by a special energy, we call it the Frequency. We are able to feel this Frequency, and find the people emitting it. That’s how Sol and I were adopted into the family. The moment we were born, the former rulers looked for us”, the Queen pointed towards the tapestry, to her and the High King, and then above them, to the former King and Queen.

“There’s this occurrence also… Every other generation, twins are born into the royal family. You should be able to see the repeating pattern in the tapestry”.

Chan could see it. The intricate tapestry showed an extensive family tree. The lines illustrated the different relationships between the monarchs, their respective partners, and descendants–if any.

The sets of twins appeared in every other generation, each pair connected by a delicate, repeating rune, the last on the line being the current Queen and High King. Nothing other than her family was connected to the Queen, the surrounding space around her portrait was empty aside from the rune that tied her to her brother. The High King’s portrait was almost the same, save for the dotted red line connecting him to another person.

Chan’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the face next to His Majesty and the name carefully embroidered below it. “Hoseok? The Hoseok?” 

“Yes, Hoseok”, a tender smile painted her features as she looked fondly at the two portraits. “They’ve known each other since we were children, but they only formalised their bond around eight years ago, if I remember correctly. He’s also been in the tapestry since then”.

“Huh… Must be nice”, was his only response as his eyes trailed the red dotted line connecting them. To be tied to another person on such a deep level certainly must be nice, especially knowing your energies were born to match each other.

Out of the corner of his eye Chan noticed someone else further away from the High King. It was the portrait of a young man. The features on his face were slightly washed out, making it hard to link it to anyone he had met so far–it was connected to the previous rulers by a straight, green line, the delicate inscription under it read ‘Ike’. 

“Who’s this?” Chan asked, curious.

The Queen tensed a bit, but she answered regardless. “Before we were adopted into the royal family… our parents had a son of their own. He’s no longer with us. It’s… a sore subject”.

The Queen’s voice was apparently sterile. Yet, there was an underlying tone of something. Chan wanted to inquire further, but his question died on his tongue as soon as Her Majesty continued talking.

“Anyway”, the Queen cleared her throat. “The Twin Regnants have a special role within the royal family. We must keep the balance between light and dark energy on the planet. I’m sure you will eventually notice Sol’s magic and mine are different. Not only between ourselves, but also compared to others, too”.

Chan hummed in understanding. “How do you do it? Keep the balance, I mean”.

“A bunch of rituals we have to follow, lots of ancient traditions. Boring stuff”, the Queen shrugged, waving a hand dismissively in the air. “And, honestly, just our mere existence. All magic here flows through us… Sometimes I feel like I’m just a glorified filter”, she added with a chuckle.

Chan laughed at her comment. He knew she was dumbing it all down for him, which was fine. The fine details were something probably too far out of his league to understand. Satisfied with that answer, he chose to ask something else. 

“What about your biological parents?”

“What about them?”

“Well, have you ever met them? What happened to them once you were adopted?” 

“Not really…” The Queen’s eyes thoughtfully trailed the tapestry, from her mark to the ones above her. “We never met them. It was mentioned to us that our birth mother was single, and that she passed away shortly after our birth. Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for that to happen when you birth Twin Regnants, or when you birth royals in general, really. I do feel guilty about that sometimes…”

Chan looked at her, his eyes traced her pondering features as she looked at the different faces on the fabric. “It’s not your fault”.

“I know”, she turned to look at him, with the tiniest of smiles on her lips. “But it’s hard to not feel guilty about unfortunate events that are tied directly or indirectly to you. Even when they are beyond your control. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, I can understand that”, and he did, truly. He could pull out an extensive list of numerous things he felt guilty about, even when he had not directly caused them.

Chan turned back to the tapestry, and he noticed the numbers embroidered in a smaller font under each name. They looked like galactic dates, but as he looked at the matching numbers under the current Queen and High King he paused, unsure.

“What are those?” He asked as he pointed towards the numbers.

She looked at him, with an amused glint in her eyes. “Those are numbers, Chan”.

Chan rolled his eyes in response. “Thank you, Your Majesty. What would I do without your infinite amount of knowledge?”

The Queen just chuckled, answering properly this time. “Each one of those under our names are just the dates of our birth. For the people that passed, that date is recorded as well”.

Surprise fell on his face at her confirmation, and the comment spilled from his lips before he could filter it. “You’re so young!”

“Why do you sound surprised? Do I look old?” He could tell she was teasing him, but even then, he recoiled immediately, trying to save his ass.

“No! You look great, actually”, he regretted ever opening his mouth, his next words rushed out of his lips as if they’d somehow make everything better. “I mean, we’re really close in age! You carry yourself like you’ve lived through a lot, even when you’re so young”.

Her Majesty huffed out a laugh, clearly amused by his outburst. “Because I have. As have you, I presume. That’s how things are when we do what we do”. 

Chan went silent, pondering her words. Of course she could tell. Anyone that took their path of rebellion would be able to understand how things were out there, the way the endless game of cat and mouse would wear you down much quicker than a regular civilian life would.

They stayed in silence for a while. The only sounds that could be heard in the room were coming from Freyja grooming herself, and from the wind flowing through the windows. Those sounds were joined by that incessant hum in his skull.

Chan looked at the tapestry, at the empty space adjacent to the Queen’s portrait. There was no red dotted line connecting her to any other person. Words bubbled on his tongue, and the sounds left his mouth before he could stop them. 

“Does that mean that you’re single?” He shut his eyes tight, grimacing as he mentally face-palmed himself–so much for being careful…

The Queen laughed at the sudden question. “Yes”, she answered finally. “Although sometimes it feels like I’m in an unhappy marriage with my own moral duties”.

Chan chuckled, and he genuinely felt a bit relieved that she hadn’t taken offence at his question. Only because of that. No other reason to feel relieved other than that… “Can relate, I suppose”.

Her Majesty looked back at him with a smile, a genuine one that had her eyes almost disappearing completely on her face.

“Thank you for telling me all this”, Chan was sure there was a smile on his face matching her own. “I think I’m starting to understand more”.

“If you’re ever curious about something, just ask. There’s no shame in that”, the Queen encouraged him, and in that moment, he genuinely felt like he could ask anything without judgement.

They stayed in the room for a while after that, the conversation turned to an assortment of non-essential topics that inadvertently showed bits and pieces of themselves. Their opinions, their views… It was pleasant, almost like he was talking with a friend.

Chan eventually made it back to his room, after showering Freyja with affection and sharing wishes of ‘Good night’ and ‘Sleep well’ with Her Majesty.

He took his clothes off the second the door closed behind him, and immediately plopped on his bed as sleep started to desperately cling to his bones.

There, in the wee hours of the night, with his mind half in the realm of the living, half holding onto his own personal dreamland, Chan vaguely realised he had dropped her title at some point during their conversation earlier.

The Queen hadn’t corrected him.

Not even once.

Chan made his way to the Big Bad Wolf right after breakfast, since Wang Eun took pity on him when he saw his face in the morning. A comment of ‘Wow, you do look awful in the mornings’ was the first thing to come out of his mouth as soon as Chan opened his eyes, right before he told him to rest for the day, that they could train more some other time. Chan appreciated it, truly. His few hours of sleep left him with barely enough energy to walk.

The ship was looking much better than it did a few days ago, the insides had finally been fully scrubbed clean, and some of the doors were already working again. He felt his body relax as soon as he stepped into the main control room and started to hear people chatting and working as usual. The now familiar environment filled him with hope, especially since he could finally see progress.

Talboot wasn’t on the ship today, one of the workers let Chan know the man had the day off when he inquired about it. That was fine, it’d let him focus solely on his task. Even though he deeply enjoyed speaking with Talboot when he was working, it did slow him down a bit, and the fact that the man wasn’t here now made him even more determined to get this communicator fixed today.

Hours passed by quickly. The hyperfocus on the damned thing led Chan to fixing other connections within the unit that would eventually connect to other systems. People slowly filtered out of the room when their tasks were done for the day as the sun started to set. Until, eventually, he was completely alone. Thankfully, one of the warlocks working in the ship repairs had left a couple orbs of light to illuminate the area when he noticed Chan was planning on staying a bit longer.

With slightly trembling hands, Chan ran electricity through the circuit board to test it, the integrated indicator light finally blinked red, confirming a successful test. The positive outcome made him literally jump on the spot, and words flew from his lips as he started tidying everything up.

“Holy shit, holy shit”, excitement bubbled within him. Chan neatly rolled the extra length of the wires, tying them together with some insulating tape.

He crouched on the floor next to one of the main console panels, his shaky hands pulled it out with a bit too much force. The piece of metal immediately slipped from his hands and landed on the floor with a loud clunk, which made him wince slightly. Chan carefully inserted the circuit board in its place, taking a hold of the cable that connected the board to the entire communication system and finally plugging it in. The loud crackling sound over the speakers signalled a successful connection.

Chan stood up quickly, he tripped slightly when he stepped towards the console, clumsily hitting the metal panel on the floor, but it didn’t matter. He sat on his seat, and his fingers flew over the buttons as he entered the numbers he had committed to memory what felt like aeons ago.

“Come on, boys… Pick up, pick up…” His leg bounced up and down, impatient when the familiar ringing sound played over the speakers.

Anxiety clung to his every muscle while he waited, the thought that something might have happened flooded his mind briefly when he started expecting the worst… Until, finally, a crackling sound came from the speakers, accompanied by a voice. 

“Chan!”

“Seungmin!” Chan started laughing like a madman, and relief washed over him at the familiar voice of his crewmate. “Are you okay? Is everyone okay?”

“What do you mean if we’re okay?! Are you okay? We’ve been trying to reach you for days! What the fuck happened? I completely lost your track after you went into hyperdrive the other day!” Seungmin’s voice was rather panicked when he spoke, swearing left and right as he continued to inquire on their whereabouts.

“We’re fine! We’re alive, the Big Bad Wolf is damaged, though. Badly. That’s why it’s taken so long to reach out. Are the others back?”

A loud sigh of relief came from the other side of the line. “Yes! Jisung, Hyunjin, and Minho are all back. They suffered minor injuries, but they’re safe and recovering. Although the Shining Starlight is a bit damaged as well. Jeongin’s working on her right now”.

Chan let out a sigh of relief of his own. He brought his hands to his face to press his fingers on his eye sockets when tears started pricking his eyes. “Dude, you’ve got no idea how happy I am to hear that right now”.

Seungmin laughed at that, and even if the sound was slightly distorted over the speakers, it only added to that wave of relief coursing through Chan. “Probably just as happy as I am. We’ve been worried sick. Are you gonna tell me what happened or not?”

Chan explained the chain of events that led them to where they were now. How the attack drone followed them into hyperspace, and shot them down, how they crash-landed, and the appalling state the Big Bad Wolf ended up in… Everything but where they were, and who had helped them, but he did promise Seungmin that he’d tell them the details once they were back at their base.

“How the hell did you guys survive that?” Seungmin was clearly incredulous after Chan finished his dramatic rendition of the events, and he seemed to also be slightly stunned at the amount of information.

“Fucking Felix”, Chan chuckled. “He pulled one of his magic tricks and effectively saved our asses”.

“Okay, I think this might be our closest call to death so far. I’ll have to carve it on the wall later”, Seungmin laughed, and the memory of their endless list of near-death experiences carved on the base’s walls brought a melancholic smile to Chan’s lips.

“Listen, Seungmin. I’m going to send you the intel”, Chan fell into his Rebel Leader mode as soon as the words left his mouth, taking the small data transfer device from his pocket and plugging it into the console. As soon as it was properly linked to the console, he started pressing buttons so he could send the information over to his crewmate. “Give it to Minho, he knows what to do with it”.

“Roger that, captain”, Seungmin remained silent for a moment, decrypting the data on his side. Once everything had transferred over, he finally spoke again. “What the fuck does this mean?”

“I have no idea. Sounds like a bunch of jargon to me, but that’s what Dall wanted”, Chan answered truthfully. He’d had the chance to go over the information while he was initially extracting it. It was honestly a bunch of random words like shadows, springs, among many others that didn’t make a whole lot of sense to him when combined together. He felt oddly reassured that Seungmin felt the same way. “Speaking of which… any news from Dall?”

“Not really… Minho’s been checking daily, but it’s radio silent so far”, Seungmin’s words didn’t really surprise him. Dall often wouldn’t communicate for weeks at a time. And when they did, it was mostly to send new missions, updates, or the very sparse words of encouragement.

“When will you be back?” Seungmin’s voice pulled Chan back from his thoughts.

“Probably as soon as the ship’s up and running… It might take a while, she’s pretty fucked up right now. Don’t worry about us, just make sure you send that asap and take care of yourselves”.

Their conversation picked up from there between the two. Seungmin gave him updates on the mission that had been led by Minho along Chan’s. How Hyunjin managed to flirt his way out of a guard port filled to the brim with Charmer supporters… How–had it not been by Jeongin’s quick guidance as their tracker–Jisung almost got them caught when he had returned to the same guard port to release a bunch of animals that were trapped there, effectively wreaking absolute havoc in the area… How Minho managed to surpass his previous best score of his favourite game of punch as many people unconscious as possible–all while they still successfully freed the enslaved civilians they had originally gone to that planet for.

Chan felt very proud of his crewmates–his friends, his brothers. Every time they managed to fulfil one of their many missions and they lived to tell the tale, pride would swell in his chest as he was reminded of why they chose to take the path they did.

At some point during the conversation with Seungmin, Minho joined in. He was clearly relieved when he greeted Chan, and Chan told him how they were, and briefly explained the situation they were going through with the Big Bad Wolf. Minho excused himself at some point, so he could finally go and send over the intel to the rebel leader.

After a while of just talking to Seungmin, Chan noticed the sun had already set outside of the ship, and he figured Wang Eun would be at his door soon. So he said his goodbyes to Seungmin, but not before he promised to call again the next day to catch up with the others too.

The castle corridors were especially animated in the early hours of the evening, with people walking left and right as they hurried to finish their evening tasks. A few maids stopped to greet Chan since he had slowly become acquaintanced with many of them by now during his many strolls around the castle.

“I wouldn’t go in that direction if I were you. Their Majesties and Lord Skallarg are arguing over there”, one of the maids told him. An advice which he decided–against his better judgement–to disregard completely. If anything, the moment she said that, he had already decided that’d be his next destination.

Once he was close enough, Chan could hear Skallarg’s despicable voice over the hustling of people coming in and out rooms. The many castle workers seemed to pay no mind to the scene, as if they had become desensitised to the occurrence. 

“Her Majesty took them in, Your Majesty! Completely overruling my judgement! They destroyed the royal gardens”, Skallarg’s face was red, his whole body was tense when he gestured outside the windows, speaking to the High King as if the Queen wasn’t even standing right next to him.

The Queen was seething, her hands were slightly shaking while she heard the man speak. Chan’s eyes might’ve been tired from staring at tiny circuits all day, so he might’ve been seeing things, but, to him, it looked like her hair was swaying the tiniest bit, even when there was no current coming from the windows.

The High King’s voice was completely level when he addressed the man, as if what he was saying didn’t concern him at all. “You know we take people in all the time, Skallarg. Regardless of how they arrive here, we help. Besides, she is the Queen of this planet, your Queen. You can advise her all you want, but she will always have the last word, and you know it”.

“I have to correct you there, dear brother. He cannot advise me on anything. I don’t care about what he’s got to say”, she was stern, firm in her statement. There was clear restraint in her words, and the tremble in her hands increased slightly.

Her hair was definitely moving now.

Skallarg’s face grew redder, now addressing the Queen directly. “They don’t deserve to be here! This castle is for Liraleans only!”

“They’re my guests!” Her Majesty shouted. The energy that had been collecting around her released abruptly,  and the shockwave hit the numerous paintings on the walls, which immediately clattered loudly to the floor.

Skallarg winced. The High King grabbed Her Majesty’s upper arm, rather forcefully. When he spoke to her, his tone was still level, if only a bit stern. “Calm. Down”.

Her Majesty yanked her arm free from his grasp, defiant when she addressed her brother. “I will not. You”, she pointed to Skallarg, and the man immediately recoiled. “Never say anything like that ever again. Not in front of me, not in front of anyone. In case you’ve forgotten, our parents are dead. That archaic way of thinking won’t be tolerated here anymore. I’ll invite whoever I want, whenever I want, and you must show them the same level of respect as you would show any Liralean”.

As if she was communicating with him without saying a word, and with a heavy gaze, the Queen gave the High King one final, furious look. She turned around and started walking away from the two men, right in Chan’s direction.

When she walked past him, it was almost like she hadn’t even registered his presence, and the air around her–still thick with her energy–almost made him shudder.

The High King’s eyes locked with Chan’s for a brief moment. A look of what Chan could only describe as curiosity crossed His Majesty’s features when he eyed Chan up and down. The exchange lasted only a few seconds, until he turned back to Skallarg, grabbed his arm, and pulled him in the opposite direction with orders of ‘Come with me’.

Maids gathered around the area to pick up the fallen paintings, assessing any possible damages. They honestly didn’t look particularly surprised or moved by the scene at all as they worked.

As soon as the High King and Skallarg were out of his sight, Chan started to feel it, that pull that tugged him somewhere. He decided to follow it, and his instincts were suddenly on high alert as he walked corridor after corridor.

Stepping out of one of the many archways that lined the castle’s corridors, Chan found himself in one of the smaller courtyards. The light from the castle windows dimly illuminated the area, just enough for him to see where he was going.

After a few moments, he spotted the Queen. She was kneeling on the thick rim of a large fountain, with her head submerged deep within the basin.

Chan was slightly alarmed, until he saw her yank her head out with a frustrated groan, spilling water everywhere around her. He waited for a moment, watching the Queen turn around to finally sit down on the fountain’s rim, planting her boots firmly on the grass.

With slow steps, Chan walked closer. She didn’t look at him, her full attention seemed to be on her trembling hands, but he was sure Her Majesty had noticed his presence anyway.

Tentatively, Chan sat down next to her, close enough that he could hear the water droplets fall from her hair and land on the concrete surface they sat on.

The Queen didn’t say anything, and neither did he. They sat in silence for a while, she was just looking at her shaky hands, while he just looked at her. Chan’s thoughts raced, and the ever-present hum in his head seemingly changed shape. Comfort, comfort, comfort… the maddening chant seemed to be playing on repeat in his mind.

His instincts kicked in, and, against his better judgement, his limbs started acting entirely on their own accord. Chan took one of the Queen’s trembling hands, and as soon as their skin made contact, her eyes snapped in his direction, looking at him with her eyebrows high in surprise.

Without taking his eyes away from her hands, Chan took the hand he was holding and placed it on his free hand that was resting on his thigh. Her other hand got the same treatment, until he was eventually holding both of her hands between his own.

With a minute squeeze, he finally looked at her. She stared right back, and she seemed to be focused solely on his face. 

They stayed in that position for a while, sharing the comfortable silence while they looked into each other’s eyes, until her breathing started to even out and the tremble of her hands lessened. 

Chan broke the silence first, giving her hands another reassuring squeeze. “You okay?”

Her Majesty stayed silent for a moment, her eyes darted around his face, taking in his features. She eventually exhaled, and her shoulders slumped the tiniest bit. “No”.

A valid answer, in Chan’s humble opinion.

Chan hummed in response, and his thumb unconsciously traced circles on the back of her hand. After another moment of silence, he spoke again. “Wanna talk about it?”

She looked at him, thoughtfully. Ultimately, she chuckled, but it wasn’t a sound of mirth, it was more like a sound of defeat. “I’m just really tired, Chan. I don’t think I even have the words to elaborate more than that right now”.

“Mmm… Anything I can help with?” It was a serious offer, he realised once he said it. He was willing to do his best to help if she needed him to. It was the least he could do.

Her Majesty smiled at him. It was, objectively, a beautiful smile, but he couldn’t help but notice how… sad she looked. “You’ve already done more than enough”.

He wasn’t sure that was true, he certainly didn’t feel like it, but he didn’t say it. Instead, he remained quiet, looking at her while the movement of his thumb on her skin didn’t stop.

Chan didn’t really know how much time had passed. They could’ve been there for minutes, hours, and he genuinely wouldn’t have noticed. He found great comfort in the silence around them, in her gentle gaze tracing the features of his face, just like he did the same. He felt reassured enough once he eventually noticed her breathing evening out completely.

A smile spread on her face, a genuine one, and he could’ve sworn his heart stopped for a second. “Thank you”.

“Anytime”, he felt a smile of his own form on his lips.

After a few more moments of silence, she finally pulled her hands out of his hold, and stood up from the fountain. “I have to go”. 

Chan remained seated, with his hands on his lap. “Sleep well, Your Majesty”.

“Sleep well, Chan”, were the last words she said to him before she retreated back into the castle.

He sat there for a while, with his hands palm up, and his eyes trained on them, tracing every line, every wrinkle… With a sigh, he faced a very odd, and unpleasant realisation.

He didn’t like how cold and empty they suddenly felt.

Previous Chapter: Day 5. | Series Masterlist. | Next Chapter: Day 7.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2022-2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

[demiro-allosexual-culture-is]

10 and 18 for the arospec ask game if it isn’t too late?

10. Probably what frustrates me the most about amatonormativity is that monogamy and having children is expected? I think personally I am way more frustrated by aros misusing the term to call aplatonics who like romance "amatonormative" and hate on people for not prioritising friendship and family(Im extremely disgusted by both and any nonrose things so I must be these aros' nightmares or something lol), and Im very frustrated by platonormativity. I like romance sometimes, and I'm from a romance negative culture that frowns on romance and emphasizes arranged marriage instead, and that is something I want to avoid. Romance, however, under the right conditions I do want to engage in.

And I prioritise my sexual and romantic-sexual partners over everyone else, I don't want any other close relationships at all and of course Id value my partners and myself over other people. Thats just how I function. If I didn't have partners, I would prioritise myself over other people mainly. I can't say I feel very impacted by amatonormativity just because Im arospec, but again Im not living in America right now so obviously the way it is in my culture varies greatly from a theory created in the context of the western world.

But about the norms in my culture, I feel like its that people wouldn't understand my romantic-sexual or sexual relationships because its w other headmates in my system, so Id appear single since we aren't open about being plural irl. Some of my peers may think its weird that Im aro, bc they may think queerness is weird. But a lot of them are very careful about romance because of romance negativity and how their family may not approve (yes, even 'cis straight passing' romance), yet expect people to feel romantic attraction. Some of them just seem to resign themself to the idea of being married off in an arranged marriage because thats what their parents want. Maybe some genuinely want that for themself, Im not exactly sure? but I don't want that, and I have partners already.

Basically I will never relate to wanting arranged marriage, and the way I approach romance is not traditional bc Im demiromantic allosexual and nonfriending aplatonic(I can't perform friendship, which is expected as a precursor to romance), and polyamorous/polyerosous. I feel like because the opposite is expected, the way I require a sexual relationship to even feel romantic attraction and a desire to be in a romantic relationship may be frowned upon due to sex negativity and amatonormativity in general, and bc that deviates from the arranged marriage norm where I live. And I don't want to raise kids (not even as a single parent or coparent), and thats a 'step' often expected in romance and marriage, although my current partners don't particularly require that in a relationship. And all that is what I feel makes amatonormativity or an equivalent to it, impact me in my culture.

I think that either amatonormativity should be broadened to include similar enforcement of societal norms that aren't covered by just talking about white european or american norms, or other terms should be coined to refer to this. I feel like either ppl online are narrowing the scope of what amatonormativity includes, or they are being overly eurocentric and americentric about it. I feel the way Elizabeth Brake's theory is explained definitely doesn't fully explain the attitudes in my culture about romance and marriage. And that is very likely because it was formed in a western context.

18. I only ship romantic-sexual and sexual ships. I can't say Im really invested in reading about romance aspects but more so the attraction? I relate to feeling romantic and sexual attraction which is probably why I ship those ships. Im kind of repulsed by nonsexual-in-intent ships that are romantic so I never ship them. I avoid fiction where the romance is stated to have no sexual attraction bc it repulses me. Sometimes I get really bored of a ship once it becomes canon, like theres no more suspense or anticipation I guess? (example - Lumity in the owl house). I don't like slow burn because its extremely boring and often involves friendship, which Im repulsed by.

I think sometimes I may ship characters or focus on shipping just because it makes me feel sick to think about friendship, even in media. Considering the characters as romantically or sexually involved is not repulsion inducing so I prefer it. I also hate ships where ppl write them as telling each other they are friends as well as partners, or friends to lovers bc ew (plato repulsed).

Either way the main type of shipping I prefer is sexual self shipping because I have fictional sexual crushes(I never feel romantic attraction to fictional characters) I ship myself with, sometimes also fluff or romance-coded self ship content that I feel like I can interpret as having sexual attraction as the intent. I may also avoid canon or fanon ships of characters I have crushes on, if it causes me to feel jealous.

arospec ask game :