#whether it was for a good reason or not is almost irrelevant

[timelesslords]

I legitimately think about padawan Dooku saying “every Jedi is a child his parents decided they could live without” to Yoda at least five times a week and I go insane about it every single time

[zoomclown]

thinking about Jonathan Sims and Samama Khalid.

Thinking about how, by all laws of Horror Story Trope, Jon should not be the protagonist. If I'd never heard of tma and you showed me a lineup of the archives crew and asked me to guess who died first I would have pointed to Jon. He's the paranoid professor archetype. The one who dies discovering some crucial bit of information at the beginning to push the plot forward. He's unfriendly, cowardly, insecure, and makes other people do his investigation for him for all of season 1. He doesn't do anything even remotely heroic until the second half of the show. He has no interest in romance for the first half of the show. The audience wasn't even aware Jon had a dark past until he starts telling us about A Guest for Mr. Spider. But he is *Chosen.* Despite the fact that he has no actual qualities of a hero, he's chosen as the eyes special boy. Over the course of the show he starts to become more and more like an actual protagonist. He starts trying to save the world, resist the eye, all that jazz. For one reason or another, being the Archivist turns Jonathan "definition of a side character" Sims into the main character.

Then we have Sam. Sam starts acting like a horror/mystery protagonist almost immediately. He is young, charming, has a mysterious past (that we are made aware of pretty much right away) and a curiosity that causes him to frequently put himself personally in the path of The Horrors. He pokes around where he doesn't belong and looks for clues. He's the center of an office love triangle for goodness sake. He has a strong sense of duty to others and will put himself in harms way to protect those he loves. He exudes main character energy. He has everything a horror protagonist needs to push the plot along. But Sam wasn't *Chosen.* Despite being exactly the person you'd expect the plot to follow. And I can't help but wonder if, in the same way that the narrative made Jon important, it's going to make Sam unimportant. Irrelevant. If, with his rejection from The Magnus Institute, Sam is going to disappear completely. Become a mystery.

Because at the end of the day, so much of your life, your impact on the world, your relevance, has absolutely nothing to do with you. So much of it has everything to do with those in power, and whether they decide you're important.

It all comes down to your own rotten luck.

[klausysworld]

Hi could you write some angst about a deeply insecure reader who hates her appearance and is sort of friends with Elena and everyone(pushed to the side kind of relationship)but when klaus comes around it’s clear that she has a crush but believes he’s out of her league then klaus uses it to his advantage by showing an interest in her for information and helps her with her self worth.klaus then starts to develop feelings for her but then it’s revealed that he was just manipulating her and reader is devastated and utterly humiliated and it sets her back to how she was before him.(sorry if that was a really long explanation,you can decide the ending)thanks I love your writing btw

Real

Growing up in Mystic Falls is a bizarre experience.

There were town events almost every month where you had to dress up and act better than everyone, parents basically had a competition over who had the prettiest daughters or the most handsome sons.

Not my parents.

They didn't think I was good enough to even pretend that I could compete. I was told my worth from a young age and became more aware of it with time. When your own parents don't think you're good enough it's sort of an eye-opener if you will.

It didn't help that everyone in this town seemed to be born into modelling.

Somehow I was lucky enough to wind up 'friends' with people like Elena, Caroline and Bonnie but I knew I didn't belong with them. Somehow they were gorgeous enough to get whatever they wanted.

Sometimes I wondered if everyone else at the age of 17 looked like them and I was behind or if somewhere, I was above average. I doubted it. A lot.

Occasionally I would look at a mirror and think that I wasn't even that bad to look at. There was nothing particularly ugly about me, there just wasn't anything special. I looked plain in a way, bland and forgettable.

I was very forgettable actually. My 'friends' made that abundantly clear throughout the years when they would go out without me or forget to ask if I also wanted something or liked something.

Somehow I was of no value to them. Perhaps I was simply there to amplify their beauty. Like a DUFF. I was definitely the DUFF.

Damon actually told me that I was once, after Tyler had made the joke and Damon asked what it meant. Even though I already knew it to be true, to be told it was much worse.

You could sort of tell everyone else was thinking it, especially when I was stood beside Caroline.

Stefan was the only one who was nice but I wasn't sure if it was out of pity or just because that was who he was. Then again, I'd rather just not know.

So I tried my best to keep in the background, avoid attention and stay out the way.

Even with all the vampire and werewolf drama that took course, I kept myself quiet and to the side. Strangely it was Katherine who was kind to me, whether she had an ulterior motif I'm not so sure anymore but she never hurt me in the time she was there. Neither did Elijah when he came to town, he was polite to everyone but it was obvious that my presence was irrelevant to him.

And then of course, Klaus arrived.

I didn't officially meet him until the senior prank night, he sort of just threw to the side and told me to keep my mouth closed and not to bother running because he'd just kill me. Part of me thought about running anyway so he would just end it but I didn't.

Klaus dragged me by my wrist into his car, told me to keep quiet while he drove Elena to the hospital. For whatever reason he brought me along and left me in the car as he went to drain her of blood for his hybrids. I did as told: sat silently and waited.

He came back out and spoke to Damon for a moment, I saw them glance over in my direction only for Damon to laugh and smirk. I sighed to myself and got out the car. It was clear that Klaus thought I could be a good pawn but was surly mistaken and Damon told him to do whatever he wanted to me. In response I walked home, neither noticed so it was fine.

A week or so later he came back, crashed homecoming or something? I dunno, I wasn't there but I was told about it the next day via a stroppy Caroline.

It was that same day that he came and sat beside me at the grill. I ignored him for the most part, confused by his attempt at what I could only guess was flirting? I wasn't really sure. I think he could tell.

"Not easily impressed are you love?" he questioned as he leant forward, uncomfortably close. I sort of just looked at him, still unsure to what he wanted. A smirk pulled at the end of his lips and his hand lifted, his fingers wrapping around a piece of my hair making frown and pull away abruptly. Without hesitation I stood up and spun on my heel, going to leave. His laugh followed me and a hand grabbed my waits, it was stange.

"Calm down love, It's not like I was going to rip it out, I just wondered what it felt like" he chuckled, pulling my back flush against his front making me tense and squirm.

"It feels like hair" I stated simply "Now get off" I grunted, shoving my elbow into his side to make him let go. I kept walking, keeping my eyes on the ground.

The next time I saw him he apologised for the previous encounter which again, i didn't understand but there was no point in questioning and arguing so I just accepted it and tried to leave but he asked if I'd stay for one drink, he asked so nicely and he smiled. I was stupid enough to think it was genuine and accepted.

Looking back it was pretty obvious that this was a game for him or a trap, whatever you want to label it but in the moment I ignored what was right in my face. Deep down I knew it was all a joke of sorts really.

But no boy, let alone a man had shown me this sort of attention and the soft fluttering it made me feel had me staying for far too long. I listened to his little stories and asked a range of questions as the drinks kept coming. He asked a couple about me but i gave relatively vague answers. There wasn't much I had to give him on me, I wasn't up for a pity party about friends and I didn't really fancy talking about my shitty parents either. I think Klaus picked up on the fact that I didn't really want to talk about me and eventually gave up with it.

It was late when I realised I needed to get home and he offered to take me which I admit made me wary. I didn't want him to kidnap me and think I'd be any good as leverage again, though I guess Damon made that pretty clear already. I decided to just walk home which he eventually accepted and got into his car.

Walking by myself probably wasn't my best option after drinking so much in one go but I made it home with minimal stumbling. My mother shook her head when she saw me and asked what was wrong with me. When she realised I had been drinking her mind jumped to two very different conclusions. The first being that I was being a slut which was ironic as in the past she'd made it clear that no guy would want to sleep with me, and the second being that I had taken pills to kill myself.

Listening to her drastic thinking made me wonder what kind of pills she was on but I didn't question it and waited for my father to come and take her to bed, telling her to just ignore me. Then I proceeded to make my way to the bathroom, getting changed and washing my face before going to my bed.

My phone dinged making me sigh, thinking it was Elena asking me to help her with something dumb and life threatening however much to my surprise it was Klaus. A smile involuntarily spread across my face and we messaged back and forth before he told me to rest.

The following few days he would just check in. Not too much but he also made it clear that he hadn't forgotten me which was all I had ever truly wanted from someone. To be acknowledged at the very least.

Of course I didn't tell the others that he had been talking to me, besides they didn't ask so I didn't see why I should. I guess I just wanted something for myself.

I wasn't completely stupid. I always had the feeling that he was using me, especially towards the start...but he was just so wonderful with his words and his ways.

When he began to make and buy sweet gifts and claim they were tokens of his affection, I couldn't help the blush on my face. When he would find a way to have his skin against mine, or how he would pick up my hand and gently tug my along. Somehow we always seemed to end up somewhere for food, and he would always refuse to let me pay.

Something about him was so enticing, addictive if you will.

He began to make me feel a certain way. He made me warm and happy. His touch was so soft, it made me feel like I was buzzing. i was stupid for thinking he could feel the same way about me.

I had been so scared to admit my feelings.

He had assured me that he would never push me to.

He told me that he liked me, that he didn't want me to be frightened of him or nervous around him. "Not unless it's the sort of nervous that puts butterflies in your stomach sweetheart" he had teased and my cheeks had glowed red.

Over the space of months his presence never lessoned. He always made time to see me, and speak with me. I found myself longing for his voice, his touch.

On days where he was too busy at home, he would urge me to come over. I would spend as long as I possibly could with him, a few times I even stayed over but he had slept on top of the duvet so that I would feel comfortable.

This had gone on for a small while until he actually said the words 'I love you'.

Perhaps I was just so happy to actually hear those words. Maybe I believed them to be true, real. Or I just saw what I wanted to see, heard what I wanted to hear and ignored the rest.

The time I gave myself to him used to make my smile and blush. Now it just makes me feel dirty, humiliated and embarrassed.

Knowing that he could and has had his hands all over my body, his lips and eyes. In the moment I felt like a goddess, probably because that’s what he told me I was. The memory of him inside me haunts me. I had thought it to be such a beautiful experience, romantic and personal.

I wish I could say that I had slept with him only once but as the months went by we would share intimacy often.

I had even told him that I loved him, so many times and I meant it for all of them.

So you should understand why it was so hard to accidentally hear him tell his sister that he had been compelling me for any information on the others.

It had felt as though my heart had stopped when the words hit my ears and tears already made my eyes burn. I heard a weak laugh and turned my head to see Damon, strung up by chains whilst bleeding all over, looking straight back at me.

“Y/n…” I heard Klaus’s voice, his tone one of panic or maybe it was just surprise. He probably didn’t want me to know of his routine. Damon only rolled his eyes and gave me look,

“You didn’t…think it was real, right?” He coughed, a cruel smile on his face.

His words just made me quieter. They made me think. Why did I think it was real?

My eyes slowly lifted to meet Klaus’s. I could see and feel Rebekah looking at me, everyone was silent. Even Damon shut up for a second. I think maybe he was expecting me to say something but I didn’t really have anything to tell him.

As awful as it all made me feel, and even with the amount of emotions swallowing me, I felt more disappointed in myself than I did him.

My right hand went to my left arm, pinching my skin through my jumper in some sort of hope that I’d wake up from some stupid nightmare but it didn’t work.

The first tear fell from my eye and I sniffed to keep the other ones from coming.

Klaus just looked at me, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, I didn’t want to know either. I could just guess anyway.

So without a word I just turned around and left, walking quickly back out the door before breaking into a sprint in the direction of my house. I could feel the mascara running down my face, ruining the foundation I had only recently started wearing, for Klaus’s benefit.

My hands wiped at the tears as I pushed my from door shut behind me and went upstairs, blocking out the annoyed voices of my parents and locking myself in my room.

It was only once I was in the shower that I was flooded with memories. That I remembered all the things I had done with him. By the time I stepped out of the bathroom my skin was scrubbed raw in an attempt to wash his touch away. Even the slightest touch made me feel as though my body was burning, stinging with pain but I would have rather felt that every day than have to realise Klaus had been using me for over a year now.

I was curled in my bed, hidden under the blankets and surrounded by the dark as I let every comment not matter how small or petty play back through my mind.

I wasn’t even sure who to be upset with. I chose myself.

Klaus must’ve known I was an easy target. Desperate. I wonder how much he’s had me tell him. To be fair I knew more than you’d expect about what was going on. I had gotten good at observing and overhearing so I still knew what was going on, even when spending so much time with Klaus himself.

I also wondered what else he had compelled me to do. I hoped he wouldn’t do anything other than ask questions but I couldn’t help that fear creep inside me. It made me sick to my stomach, and then I wondered if he would just wait to compel me again so that I could continue to be his information feeder.

The idea made my fingers dig into my arm, bruising the skin purple but I wouldn’t stop. I only did so that I could go get some vervain that I kept downstairs in one of the cupboards at the back. I was reaching for the little glass bottle when I heard a door close. I spun around quickly to see Klaus in the doorway of my kitchen. My hand clutched onto the vervain tightly and I noticed his eyes glance at it briefly. His hands went up as if to show no harm but there was no way I would believe that meant a thing.

“Sweetheart- listen to me..” he began and I let out a breathless laugh

“Get out” I whispered making him sigh and frown as though he had the audacity to be upset or annoyed.

“Y/n..”

“No Klaus. I’m fucking serious, get out.” I told him, my eyes watering again. I let out an involuntary whimper when he stepped forward making him stop and stand still.

“I never meant for you to know that” he whispered and I frowned, swiping a tear away.

“Sorry I ruined your plan” I mumble, exhausted.

“No- no I didn’t mean it like that- I meant that-“

“Klaus it’s fine” I murmur, avoiding his eye, “It’s fine, I get it. You needed to know what was happening, you got to be two steps ahead. I’d appreciate if you just found someone else now please”

I could feel his stare on me, it make my skin itch and I just needed him to go. I could feel my hand getting clammy as I held onto the bottle.

“I haven’t compelled you in such a long time” he muttered, as though maybe that made it better. “I used to, but I truly have fallen for you Y/n. I love-“

“Please get out” I cut him off, my spare hand resting on my forehead to cover my eyes.

“I love you”

“No you don’t” I cry, “you wouldn’t do this to someone you love. I know you don’t love me. You never have and you never could. You’re just pretending again so I’ll let you control me, I don’t like it” I whimper, tears streaming again. I could hear him getting closer but I was already against the counter and I couldn’t out run him. There was no point in trying.

“Sweetheart, I’ll never use you again-“ he tried to argue but I couldn’t listen to it.

“I really, really need you to leave. Please Klaus just get out, I can’t stand you” I tell him honestly and for a second as I look up at him, he looks almost sad but I have to assume it’s still apart of his act.

“You- you’re not going to do anything…anything harmful are you? To yourself, I mean.” He asked and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. I should never have told him that I’d had those thoughts or feelings once. I shouldn’t have ever said a word to him.

“No…now go away” I whisper, my hands trembling as I stared at the ground, listening to his footsteps eventually get further away.

I knew there was no way I could sleep, he was probably still outside my house. Waiting.

I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for but I could him there.

I had no idea what I was going to do.

[insidekatmind]

Padawan-Qimir

You're too slow.

The words cut as sharply as the searing pain in your arm. You clutch the wound, breath ragged, your muscles trembling from exertion. Above you, your master looms, his masked face betraying nothing. The dark visor obscures his eyes, his voice distorted by the modulator. Whether there is disappointment or satisfaction in his tone, you cannot tell.

"You hesitate," he continues, lowering his lightsaber to his side. "That will get you killed."

Gritting your teeth, you push yourself up from your knees. The pain is irrelevant. The lesson matters. Every strike, every block, every fall he expects you to learn from them.

Your master had never once shown his face, never shared his name. He was only the mask, the voice that drilled discipline into you, the blade that burned away weakness. And yet, despite the pain, despite the harsh training, you knew there was something beneath it all. A purpose. A reason.

Swallowing your frustration, you tighten your grip on your saber, the hum of the plasma blade filling the space between you.

"Again," you say, setting your stance.

For a moment, he is silent. Then, a low chuckle rumbles through his mask."Good."

And then he strikes.

You quickly responded to the attacks, hitting him. Your master parries and thrusts, his blade slipping easily through your defenses. His movements fluid, almost effortless.

"Too slow," he chastises, his voice even through the modulator.

You grit your teeth, focusing on the hum of your saber and the rush of your own breath. Your master has been teaching you for years, and yet every lesson still leaves you ragged and panting.

"Again," he commands, circling you like a predator.

You were getting angry and you attack him and this time you make him fall to the ground, blocking him.Your master stumbles, surprise flashing in his dark visor. It is the first time you've ever seen him off balance, and a sense of pride swells within you.

You have the upper hand, for a moment, pressing your blade against his. He grunts, trying to push you away, but you're stronger this time.

"Good," he says, his voice strained. "Let the anger fuel you. But do not let it control you."

He uses the Force to shove you away, leaping back to his feet.

"Again," he demands. "Keep that anger."

You comply, launching yourself at him with a snarl of defiance. You know your master is testing you, pushing you to your limits. But you are tired of being the student. You want to be the master.

You rain down blows upon him, your saber a whirlwind of light. Your master blocks them all, his own blade a blur. But his breath is ragged now, his movements less certain.

He stops you, making you rest your back on his chest. “Well done padawan” he whispers to you.

Despite the exertion, your heart skips a beat at the praise. Your master's chest heaves against your shoulder blades, the cool metal of his mask pressed against the nape of your neck. For the first time, you are keenly aware of just how close he is, of the warmth radiating from his body.

"That's enough lesson for today," he murmurs, his fingers gently running down your arms which trembles from exhaustion.

You know better than to argue with your master, especially when his voice takes on THAT tone. You sigh, letting your saber deactivate as you allow yourself to relax against him. Despite the pain and exhaustion, you feel a sense of warmth spreading through you.

His fingertips linger on the bruises and cuts the training has left on your skin. His touch is surprisingly gentle, almost tender.

You lean into him relaxing after all the hectic training you've had. He doesn't pull away, instead his arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place. He doesn't say anything, the only sound in the training room is your ragged breathing and the faint hum of the lightsabers. The silence is oddly comfortable.You feel his mask press against the top of your head, almost like a nuzzle.

You feel... protected. Secure even. Despite the danger and violence that permeates your life, in this moment, you are safe. You close your eyes, your cheek resting against the cold surface of his chest armor. You can feel his steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

He doesn't move, his fingers still gently tracing over your bruises. It's a strange moment of intimacy, a far cry from the harsh discipline he usually instills in you.

"You're improving," he finally speaks, his voice still rough but holding a note of approval. His fingers pause in their tracing, resting just above the pulse point on your neck.

"But you still need to work on controlling your emotions." You nodded at his words knowing it was true.

He feels your nod, his fingers tracing idly up to cup your chin, tilting it back so he can look into your eyes."Emotions are like a double-edged saber," he murmurs, his voice almost a caress against your skin. "They can fuel your strength. But they can also be your weakness."He pauses, his tone becoming sharper."You must learn to use them, not let them use you."

Your mind reels at the strange feeling of his touch, his hands holding you so gently. You'd never imagined your stoic master capable of such tenderness. Your cheeks heat at the realization that he is now looking at you, his gaze hidden behind the mask.

"Do you understand?" he asks, his voice low but commanding.

“Yes master” you say looking at him.

A moment of silence passes between you, his gaze still holding yours. You feel like you're being scrutinized even more than during training, his intense focus making you squirm. Then, he seems to make up his mind."Come," he says suddenly, releasing you from his grip. "There's something I want to show you."

You blink, surprised by the sudden cold air filling the space he had occupied against you. You stand to follow him, your muscles protesting the movement after the intense training.

"What is it, master?" you ask, curiosity mixing with wariness. He doesn't respond, simply leading you out of the training room and deeper into the compound.

He leads you through labyrinthine corridors, each turn darker and more shadowy than the last. Finally, he stops in front of a steel door, the only illumination coming from a single red light above it.

"Wait here," he instructs, disappearing through the door.You find yourself standing in the dark alone, your heart thudding in your chest. You're not sure whether to be more nervous or more curious.

You wait in the silence, your eyes straining in the darkness. Every sound seems magnified in the empty hallway, the hum of distant machinery becoming a low drone in your ears. You can't help but feel a pang of unease, your master's abrupt change in behavior leaving you off-balance. After what feels like an eternity, the door slides open again and your master steps out. His imposing figure is even more pronounced in the gloom, the shadows playing tricks on the outline of his mask.

"Come," he says, gesturing for you to follow him.

You do, your footsteps echoing softly against the metal floor. He leads you into another room, the door sealing shut behind you. You find yourself in a small, round chamber. There is a single table and two chairs in the center of the room, a faint blue glow illuminating them.

"Sit," your master instructs, gesturing to one of the chairs.

You obey, taking a seat across from him. The silence is oppressive, the blue light bathing his mask in a strange, ethereal glow. He doesn't speak, instead, he just sits there, studying you. The force of his gaze is like a physical weight, the blue light making his mask seem almost alive.

"Tell me," he says finally, his voice soft but carrying command. "Do you trust me?" The question hangs in the air, heavy and unexpected. You've never been asked this question before, not like this.

"Of course," you reply, your voice steady despite the unease in your chest. "You're my master." He nods, his mask still trained on you. "Good," he says simply. His fingers drum against the table, a slow, steady rhythm. But you can feel the tension in the air, whatever he has planned, it's not just a regular lesson.

You shift in your seat, the silence becoming unbearable. You want to ask him what's going on, why he's behaving like this, but something in his aura stops you. A strange fear, or perhaps anticipation, settles in the pit of your stomach.

He slowly takes off his mask and you were enchanted. You freeze as he slowly removes his mask, your heart hammering in your chest. It's the first time you've ever seen his face, and the sight is mesmerizing. His skin is pale, almost alabaster, marred only by a web of faint scars. But it's his eyes that hold you captive. They're a deep, fathomless black, pools of shadow in his face.

"You're looking at me," he murmurs, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. It's the first time you've ever heard him without his mask, and he seems almost like a different person. His voice lacks the usual gruffness, softer now, almost as if he's trying not to spook you.

You realize you've been staring, your gaze glued to his face. You force yourself to look away, your cheeks heating with embarrassment. But he chuckles lowly, his fingers capturing your chin and tilting it up again.

"Don't look away," he says, his voice a low command. "I want you to look at me."

Your heart is pounding in your chest now, his touch sending shivers up your spine. You comply, your eyes meeting his again. But they seem different now, darker, almost predatory. "Good," he says softly, his thumb gently caressing your chin. His eyes never leave yours, his gaze holding you in place just as effectively as the Force. There's a tension in the air now, a strange undercurrent that makes the moment feel charged.

"I want you to see me," he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To know me."His touch trails down from your chin, his fingers lightly tracing the line of your throat. It's hard not to shiver at the touch, your body reacting to the simple touch in ways you never thought possible. "I'm not just your master," he says, his touch moving back up to your chin, tilting your head up so you're looking directly into his eyes. "I'm a man. A real man."

His words hang in the air, your mind trying to process them. Your master, who you've only ever known as the intimidating figure in the mask, is a human being like you. This revelation is both jarring and strangely comforting. His touch is gentle, his fingers slowly tracing the contours of your lips. It's an oddly intimate gesture, and you can feel your heart thudding in your chest. You want to pull away, to create some distance between you, but you find yourself captured by his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his touch still gentle. "So many nights I've watched you sleep, watched your lips move in silent prayers."His words send a shiver through you. The thought of him watching you, even in your most private moments, is both unsettling and oddly flattering. "I've known every detail of your face," he continues, his tone almost reverent. His touch moves from your lips, his fingers exploring your face, mapping out your features as if committing them to memory. Each touch is a soft caress, his fingertips dancing over your skin like a ghost.

"I've watched you grow, watched you change," he murmurs. "From a naïve padawan into a strong warrior."The way he's touching you is almost reverent, his touch soft but possessive. His words seem to echo in your mind, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable under his gaze. "But you're not just a warrior," he says, his fingers tracing your jawline. "You're more than that."

His voice is soft, almost husky with an emotion you can't quite place. His touch is possessive, his fingers moving down your neck and across your collarbone. He brings his lips closer to yours, kissing them. The kiss is a shock, his lips unexpectedly warm against yours. You freeze for a moment, completely taken by surprise. But you find yourself responding, your lips moving against his almost instinctively. His hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, the kiss deepening, the intensity building.

His body presses against yours, the heat of him seeping into your skin. His touch is possessive, his hands roaming over your back, pulling you even closer. The kiss becomes almost bruising, his mouth demanding and needy. It's a far cry from the disciplined persona he usually presents. His lips move away from yours, trailing kisses along your jawline and down your neck. You let out a gasp, your body arching against his at the sensation. His teeth graze over a sensitive spot on your throat, drawing a soft whimper from your lips.

His hands are everywhere now, his touch both demanding and possessive. He seems to want to consume you, his lips and hands marking your skin as if to claim you as his own. Your mind is whirling, the intensity of the moment overriding your usual inhibitions. He finally pulls back, his eyes dark and hooded as he gazes at you. There's a moment of silence, the only sound in the room being the ragged breathing of the two of you.

"Do you feel it?" he whispers, his voice hoarse. "Can you feel it? The power between us?" You nodded looking at him as you breathed heavily. You felt a great jolt of power. He smirked seeing your nod. "Yes, I feel it too," he murmured, his hands still grasping your waist. "This power between us... it's dangerous." He paused, his gaze turning more intense. "And intoxicating."

He pulled you closer again, his body pressed up against yours.You could feel the heat radiating off him, the hardness of his muscles against your softness. His lips found your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

"You're mine," he whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

[citronverveine]

when you think about it, tgcf really wouldn’t have the same impact if xie lian didn’t cultivate through abstinence.

it’s funny because it’s not even relevant to the core of the plot itself; xie lian never uses his cultivation as a reason to stay away from hua cheng. he only reminds the reader of it when he drinks wine, which is pretty irrelevant anyway. but if it doesn’t impact his relationship with hua cheng then it must serve another purpose, otherwise it wouldn’t be here, because things in fiction don’t exist just for the sake of existing.

xie lian abstaining from earthly pleasures fits into the narrative of control, expectations, and divinity, the transcendance of his mortal body.

xie lian’s goal, very early on, is to become a god. and what are gods? above mortals. or that’s what everyone thinks, but not xie lian, not entirely at least. xie lian views godhood as a means to serve the people, not being above them. this is why he doesn’t think kneeling before gods is right, and why he doesn’t want his believers to kneel.

obviously, very few people agree with him and tell him how his godhood should be, even his own believers who think it’s stupid to not kneel before a god.

xie lian always saw godhood as a tool, and his body as a tool to reach godhood. xie lian is self-sacrificing in nature, and even if at first he doesn’t really know how much it takes, it reaches extremes once he is forced to self-sacrifice for a hundred people at once.

during that time, xie lian’s body and autonomy was taken from him. “this is what you want? then take it.” it makes it seem as though it was his choice. he wanted to help, so he got to help, he should be happy, right?

i often wondered why xie lian didn’t just say to hell with it and broke his cultivation through his eight hundred years of banishment. not once, as far as we know, does he willingly break it completely and irreversibly, even though he is shackled, even though he doesn’t even actively cultivate anymore.

i think it’s about control. during that time xie lian had very little control over his life.

godhood is about repressing your human traits. when he was a god, xie lian was asked not to care, not to intervene, not to help. he was asked to sit back and watch as his people suffered, as his kingdom threatened to fall. he couldn’t.

that’s why he couldn’t be a god. he realized that himself after almost releasing the resentful spirits on Yong’an. he ascended and asked to get bannished once again. all of what he did was too human, from start to finish, and he would never be fit for a god.

his cultivation was the third and last shackle, self-imposed from the start. the first shackle bound his spiritual power, the second his luck, and the third one his cultivation, asking him to repress his humanity.

this is why it’s important that xie lian makes the choice of breaking his cultivation for hua cheng. it’s an obvious choice when you understand all of this. hua cheng gave xie lian his autonomy back by letting him be himself and making his own choices, and trusting him with them. never did he doubt xie lian, never did he tell him what to do, even when he had his own opinion on the matter. hua cheng lets xie lian be. while supporting him through it all. he’s always behind him, no matter what happens, no matter whether xie lian does good or bad, he’ll always be there to catch him regardless of what he does, because he is there for who he is. he’s xie lian. he’s human. it doesn’t matter that he’s a god, a prince, a scrap collector, a curse.

and because xie lian has finally found someone who accepts him as a whole, can he finally let himself be whole and let go of the control he has on his body. he doesn’t have to hold back. he doesn’t have to try. he can indulge. he can be human. he can want. he can love. he can hurt. he can cry. he can laugh.

tl;dr: xie lian, once aware he has someone that will accept him, the whole of him, can finally let go of any artificial control on his self to fit in what the world expects of him

[emilysidhe]

People love dichotomies.

One of the dichotomies people love inserting into Jane Austen is “marrying for love” vs “marrying for money.”

We have a chicken or egg question here about if people read this into the text so much because so many adaptations add dialogue that lays it out, or if so many adaptations add dialogue that lays out such a conflict because people love to read it into the text.

But if you read the books themselves, it just isn’t there. (This is why the occasionally bandied criticism that Austen “gets out” of having to make a choice by having her heroines “conveniently” fall in love with men who have enough money to marry on is irrelevant - that’s not what’s going on).

Instead, across her works, Austen presents marrying for love and marrying for money not as a dichotomy, but as opposite ends of a spectrum in which the rare extreme ends are each foolish and almost everyone negotiates their way through the space in the middle.

You see, to make a “good” marriage in the Austen-verse, you need a trifecta. And you do need all three - if you try to justify skipping one by maxing out one of the others, things will not end well for you.

The three things you need for a good marriage are these:

Personal compatibility and mutual respect

Financial stability within your social class

Positive feelings towards each other

You do not need love! Love is just a max-out on positive feelings, and while all her heroines find romantic love in marriage in the end (these are love stories), it’s not portrayed as necessary - Marianne Dashwood marries out of respect and gratitude and falls in love afterwards, and we don’t know about most of the minor characters, but there’s no reason to suppose that all minor character happy marriages we see are love matches. The Gardiners, for instance, could have married on simple fondness and the mutual desire to form a household, and they seem perfectly happy.

You do not need wealth! Wealth is just a max-out of financial stability. Plenty of heroines (Elinor Dashwood, Catherine Morland, even Fanny Price and Anne Elliot) marry men with respectable incomes but no land-holdings or vast riches.

I can’t think of an example for the third piece - if there is a couple in Jane Austen who are maxed out on mutual respect and compatibility, it’s the Crofts, and they also like each other and have enough to live on.

But if you’re missing one leg of the three-legged stool, you are in trouble!

Fanny Price’s parents married for love, but had no money - and they both seem pretty miserable when we see them again.

Maria Bertram marries for wealth alone, with no affection or respect for her husband - and it makes her life a train wreck.

The Bennet parents seem to have been a love match (why else would he marry a woman of no family who used to be a great beauty) and he has enough to live on whether she brings in a dowry or not. But they are not compatible and don’t respect each other, so their marriage is still kind of a disaster.

The closest example we have of someone seeming to get along ok without all three is Charlotte Lucas, who marries for financial independence, and while she’s more compatible with Mr Collins than she seems at first blush (they’re both unembarrassed to suck up to Lady Catherine), she has no positive feelings towards her husband, but still seems to be alright with her choice. And yet even there, the narrator warns that she may not always have as few regrets as she does now.

Any time you try to look at the various matrimonial decisions made by Jane Austen characters through a lens of love vs finances instead of considering whether and to what extent a marriage might check all three boxes, you’re doing it wrong.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Jaune: Ruby is a monster fucker in our relationship.

Blake: Explain yourself.

Jaune: The hands that cradle her face and tilt her head upwards to kiss her forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood. You can smell iron in the air when I walk into the room. I do not know how she can stand to touch me.

Blake: I don't regret every person Adam killed. But he did cross the line. I wish I got a sign or signal Ruby gets from you. A sign that he was struggling. You flinched. I wish Adam had flinched.

Jaune: It's actually cruel of her. An angel like her letting something like me touch her? She runs her little hands along the scars the scorpion left on my body; he almost killed me but far worse than that he wanted to kidnap Ruby. That's the reason I killed him in the streets. That's the reason he died. Whether he knew that or not before I crushed his rib cage like an empty beer can with my sword is actually irrelevant. He actually laughed a little as he died and ruined the moment for me.

Blake: Good gods Jaune. Do you know your body count?

Jaune: No. I lost count. Yeah. It's like that.

[a-man-in-the-crowd]

My Will Dissociation HC Makes Sense I Swear

okay sooo??? tumblr like messed up the original version of this so let's try this again 🤩

[TW: dissociation, i try not to go into too much detail about it but yk proceed with caution]

will's always been a bit of a weird character. while i did immediately attach myself to him, i think the episode that really got me invested in who he is as a character was episode 80's bathroom scene... so naturally, that's where this all started.

i've talked in depth about why i think will is eavesdropping here, so i'm not going to get into that. however, what i want to focus in on is how seemingly out of it he is in this scene. we get full-body shots of these random ass guys will is listening to, almost like we're reading an entirely different comic— and then, suddenly, he's brought out of it.

at first, will's reaction seems pretty normal. he gets knocked into, he's surprised. as one tends to be. however, what made me raise an eyebrow was how slow will is. he just stares at the guy for a moment while he apologizes, seemingly readjusting to what's going on, and then takes another second to realize he should respond and he should spit out his toothpaste. he takes just long enough for the guy to assume the interaction is over and to leave before will can get a word out. just all-around horrible reaction timing, as if he forgot that he's also a person in this plane of existence and had to take a minute to adjust.

so, naturally, after realizing this i decided to go back and observe him in earlier chapters. he seems normal enough in his debut, which is a detail that will be mildly important later, and his next appearance is episode 30, where he's...

completely not paying attention. which, i mean, fair, this isn't really his drama, but he doesn't even look up to see what the hell is going on. he's? fidgeting, maybe? picking off lint (which would honestly be kinda funny)? meanwhile, everyone else is at least paying half a mind to what's going on.

in the next episode, he seems to start looking up when annabel asks lenore if she manifested, and when lenore says no one manifested, he seems... intrigued? he's looking over at monty, wondering what the response is going to be. but that's basically the strongest reaction to anything he's had this whole scene.

he's just generally really detached from everyone else, like he's in his own little bubble. he doesn't even join their little stand-off, seemingly behind the posh gang. this could just be because he doesn't want to bring too much attention to himself — after all, the first thing he finds out about these people is they're forces to be reckoned with. but i also think there's room for interpretation so.

of course, early-nevermore will is pretty apathetic (whether that's on purpose or not is irrelevant here), and anyways it was the morning he could've just been tired, so let's skip ahead a bit to the final meal scene and its direct fallout.

a pretty good portion of the fandom knows this already, but will doesn't have a reaction to the one life thing. he's the only one to not have one (besides, of course, annabel who is always two steps ahead and whom will parallels), which on its own is pretty weird... but, to me, the weirder part is what he says afterwards.

now, could this be him playing dumb on purpose? yes. there's plenty of reason to, and will is a performer at heart. however, this could also imply that he's used to not hearing these sorts of things, maybe because he doesn't tend to pay attention. i doubt will would have the self-awareness to realize this isn't just a normal issue everyone has, or if he does and he's playing dumb it could be him using things he thinks makes him 'stupid' to achieve the effect he's going for.

but honestly, he's just really unresponsive for like no reason sometimes. like here.

he's putting a man in a wall, one of his accomplices was just pushed to the ground by the ringleader, and will... is just staring. there's something to be said about his complete and utter lack of morals, but here i'm just honing in on how he doesn't seem to react. like at all. to anything that's going on. like will??? (this also how i feel about him just ignoring the blood stained wall like buddy 😭)

i skipped the manor arc because he isn't really like this at all in that arc (besides directly after when he's just woken up — which, by the way, could make this all evidence he has insomnia or something). however, that does lead me to a point i want to make. will isn't always like this, which means he isn't inherently apathetic (amorality aside...), he has moments of apathy, and that changes things.

we already covered the bathroom scene, but the episode after is a panel that really made me think i might not be reaching too far here. fellow nevermore fans, this is how william wilson's mind looks:

fragments of a shattered mirror (this is also around the point i started considering he might be specifically plural). a reference to william wilson, probably, but even then it's an interesting choice of visual. as you scroll down?? the glass?? detaches?? eventually falling away?? leaving spaces in between?? real i mean wow that's pretty weird.

[note: i do love the implication that monty offering to be his friend is one of his more vivid memories (and the all-black background, making it seem completely focused on monty and him??). like. oh gay— i mean okay will.]

the two will focuses after this are pretty normal for the most part, he's pretty present in the moment, more evidence he isn't Just Like That, and then ep116, where there's nothing about dissociation specifically but well. am i crazy for thinking this sounds like a conversation with himself?

obviously, people talk to themselves sometimes. but "wonder how long this one'll last for" and "there's worse places to get stuck i guess" sound like two different people talking at once. but yk. i could just be seeing what i want to see so take this one with a grain of salt.

and now, for the thing i waited three weeks to make this post for: episode 120

this is maybe the most vulnerable we've ever seen will, and this vulnerability is about how he feels like he almost just wasn't — or isn't — real to other people. he barely makes an impression after all, no one notices when he walks in a room. they act like he doesn't exist. and, maybe some deep part of will agrees. maybe he doesn't exist at all.

—

anyways that's the end of me yapping thank you for stayinggg

[utilitycaster]

I think the idea of Bells Hells making the moral decision - or even making the best decision in the face of no good options - falls apart when you realize that there's absolutely no coherent "why" behind it and not much more of a "what".

Why go in to release Predathos? Well, someone worse might do it. Ok, but why would it be worse if someone worse did it? If Predathos can't be controlled, or if the act that Ludinus wished Predathos to do, of eating the gods, is good, then why does it matter who releases it. And the party went in without knowledge of whether to control it, so that was just a wild-ass guess. It might even be a correct one; but you cannot ascribe morality towards "stumbling through a door and hitting on the right answer by accident."

That doesn't even go into the fact that I think Bells Hells have done, if I may, a wretched job of trying to understand what the people want. What does the person on the street in Jrusar want? Bassuras? Whitestone? I think we have an idea, honestly, of what Zephrah wants. What does the Feywild want? Sure, the Accord is the people in power speaking for their respective cities, countries, and tribes, and I'm even open to the possibility that they don't actually have those groups' interests in mind though to make a blanket statement that that's the case is, as most blanket statements are, suspect. Did Bells Hells talk to anyone though? What do the other people in the Silken Squall think? What about the Clovis Concord, or Uthodurn, or the Dynasty? Oh, Bells Hells aren't from there and haven't spoken to anyone? That's so interesting that they're making a choice on their behalf, or rather, it would be, if they were ever making a choice. And, as stated, I don't even think most of them know what people where they are from want. I really don't think most of them know what they want.

Why did they stop Liliana from broadcasting? What did this achieve? If Liliana is a better person than Ludinus wouldn't it have been better for her to be the vessel? All this did was almost kill her and give Ludinus a reason to take her power himself.

Usually when a decision is incredibly difficult, there is, at least, an understanding of a desired outcome - for example, the issue of how to address climate change is incredibly complex and there are no options that don't require extensive and difficult change and sacrifice. But we know why this is important and what we want the result to be. What world do Bells Hells want to make? Literally, what do they want? If the issue was always that Predathos was a dangerous entity regardless of who wielded it that needed to be destroyed then anything to do with the gods is irrelevant, and if the issue was "the gods have the world under their thumb" then again, why even put Liliana at further risk and why kill Ludinus? The fact that we can't tell which it is and the fact that they can't tell is pretty, well, telling. And if your point is "I don't know if it's better to kill Predathos permanently or to have it eat the gods" then that brings it back to the impossibility of saying whether Bells Hells are "good" for their lack of choice. Understandable in their hesitation, at best; less forgivable when they decided to debate amongst themselves endlessly and ask precious few of the people they claim to speak for.

[petvampire]

Jerejean: Jeans first blowjob👀

oh hell yeah!

I’ve sort of tackled the first time of Jean giving in my fic Bien Joué, so how’s about we take a different approach and go first time receiving?

(especially since we all know Jeremy’s tongue game is on point)

~

One thing has become very clear to Jean over the past months in California: when Jeremy Knox boasts about something, he is being entirely truthful. There’s no exaggeration or false bravado, because there’s no need for it.

He can’t exactly make a direct comparison to say whether or not Laila is as good with her tongue, but that is irrelevant. Jeremy is obscenely, mind-meltingly talented in a way that could drive the most sane man mad.

Jean had already thought he was going to lose his mind when the other had kissed his way down his chest, clever tongue tracing lightly over the edges of his scars, replacing remembered aches with pure pleasure. That isn’t reason enough for his brain to be as scrambled as it currently is, though. No, that had come when Jeremy had paused at his waistband, looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes. “Can I blow you?” The question was blunt, sending a spike of hot arousal through him. Jeremy’s smile had been soft, though, one hand tangling with Jean’s, squeezing it. “No pressure, if you’re not comfortable. But I really want to taste you.”

How could he possibly say no to that? The idea alone of Jeremy’s mouth on him was almost enough to push him to the edge as it was. And the hungry gleam in his eyes was honest, proof that he wanted to do this.

So Jean had nodded, letting the other undo his pants, arching up off the bed a little so he could push them and his underwear down around his thighs.

And he’d immediately been treated to an intimate demonstration of just how good Jeremy really was with his tongue.

Now, he’s not sure how long the other has been working him over - minutes, hours, eons, time no longer seems to make any sense or hold any meaning. Jeremy is comfortably nestled between his legs, head bobbing lazily along the length of Jean’s cock. That too-talented tongue is teasing, swirling around the head, or dragging slowly along the thick vein on the underside. One hand is curled around the base of him, every so often taking over with slow, steady strokes while Jeremy ducks his head to lick and suck at Jean’s balls, lavishing attention on them. He’s carefully keeping him right on the edge, noticing every time Jean’s muscles start to tense as he nears orgasm and pulling back or varying his tactics.

It’s wonderful. It’s maddening.

One hand has found its way into Jeremy’s bleached hair, though he’s careful not to pull or grip too tightly. He does tug lightly at the strands, though, arching a little as that hot mouth wraps around him again. “Jeremy…” He doesn’t want to beg, but there’s desperation in his voice anyway, and the other absolutely hears it.

Jeremy pulls off him for a moment, flashing a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I just… really enjoy doing this,” he admits, making Jean bite back a moan. “You okay?”

“You are making me crazy,” Jean breathes out in response, but the words are unmistakably fond.

A short laugh slips from Jeremy’s lips, a gleam in his eyes of mingled desire and satisfaction. “Can’t have that.” He dips down again, this time swallowing Jean’s cock to the root; the sound that move elicits is purely filthy, needy. Jean fights the urge to buck up into that hot, perfect mouth as Jeremy sucks him with a far less teasing intent, every slide of his lips and tongue pushing him closer to the edge.

He manages, barely, to stammer out a warning before he comes, and Jeremy just takes his cock as deep into his throat as he can, holding himself in place as Jean moans and curses in breathless French. He stays there even through the shuddery aftershocks of his orgasm, and licks him clean when he finally pulls back, dragging one more incoherent sound out of Jean.

When he slides back up to kiss him, Jean can taste himself on Jeremy’s too-clever tongue.

[olderthannetfic]

I have conflicted feelings about the whole "copeganda" thing. On the one hand of course police procedurals have problems, portray cops of the good guys, etc. show rule breaking to get the "bad guy" as valid. i do see the problem there.

But on the other hand it feels like anti logic to say "you enjoyed x tv show so clearly you condone real world atrocities, you horrible person." And then you see people claiming that sam vimes or ACD Sherlock holmes are copeganda. or that fans watching a show where their fav actor plays a police officer are clearly racist. Or that all little kids who like paw patrol are somehow suspect or corrupted. And I worry we've lost the plot to another x media / depicting x is unredeemable crusade rather than trying to be mindful of the biases and messages in media.

Idk. Thoughts?

--

Copaganda is dangerous because it's a staple of CBS prime time et al. It tends to do things like make Internal Affairs evil in all cases. Even when you get the rare IA character who was arguably good for like 6 seasons or something, they'll still go evil for drama late in a show's run. (CSI: Miami, I'm looking at you.)

This is media with a massive reach that almost always reinforces a host of already extremely common social values, so it's going to be extra impactful relative to something like House of the Dragon incest.

We had some discussion here in the past about the measurable real world effect of B99 on people's opinions of the real NYPD. I'm much more willing to entertain people's fears about media when there are measurable effects and the audience size is large. I don't think we should ban cop shows, but there's a reason I like Miami Vice so much: it's noir, so everyone is horrible, including the authorities. While it was still extremely establishment-y, it managed to question the system a lot more than most of these simply by virtue of being a much darker show.

Mystery genre of various types isn't going away. It's a genre that really is copeganda: It's about social order being restored and making the world make sense.

We can be aware of some of the more insidious messages and push back against them though. It's like the torture thing: a lot of media wants to argue about whether the ends justify the means, but that whole complex philosophical can of worms is irrelevant since torture doesn't produce useful results in the first place.

Copaganda tends to not only make cops seem cool but portray villains stereotypically, demonize the important work of investigating cops themselves, justify police brutality, etc. There are a lot of specific problems that do not have to exist in media about cops solving mysteries. These are choices that mainstream US tv is making.

--

One thing I will say though... Mystery as a genre, including the worst of US cop shows, has often been far ahead of sff in diversity and even exploring contentious social topics. Geeks tend to think sff is so ahead of its time, but it's often pretty stick-in-the-mud compared to crime stuff. (Cue all the individual examples where it's the opposite way. Haha.)

[fairuzfan]

I think what really frustrates me about accusations of antisemitism when we say certain crimes are committed by the Israeli government towards Palestinians is that there is this base assumption that the individual identities of the people in the Israeli state are subject to individualization and identification but then we come across Hamas and all the resistance movements and people automatically categorize them as "good" or "bad" who either are "supported" or "not supported" by Palestinians. Aside from the fact that there are diverse political opinions within Palestine, people always seem to separate Hamas as a uniquely terrible group that only seeks to inflict violence irrespective of their current status of people under occupation not knowing how to change their circumstances and not afforded any contextualization.

When Palestinians talk about certain crimes against us perpetuated by the state of Israel we're told "that's libel" because our oppressors draw their identification as a nation-state as a "Jewish" state. In the same breath they condemn Hamas for killing Israelis and being uniquely antisemitic and not because they're actually fighting for any liberation. Forget the larger political context — the situation in which this exists is irrelevant in the short term analysis of how Hamas is "A Terror Organization".

Hamas is a result of circumstance. They wouldn't exist if the occupation didn't exist. You can't deny that hamas is the direct result of israel, and not because of the incendiary things that came out about who funded hamas or whatever — they are, at their core, a resistance movement against a colonial force.

And yeah, there are Palestinians that have said they don't like Hamas I guess but that... doesn't really matter to people who aren't Palestinian. The reasons they don't like Hamas are within their context of occupational circumstances. You can't just take quotes of Palestinians saying they don't like Hamas and frame it outside of their circumstance as a people living under an occupation. It would be dishonest not to mention that the greatest threat Palestinians face is the occupation. We (Palestinians) all acknowledge that. The differences in political opinion within Palestinian society aren't applicable to Israelis and non-Palestinians because you are not affected by Palestinian society in the same way that Palestinians are affected by Israeli and USAmerican society.

Israelis literally debate in open courts about whether or not to shoot unarmed Palestinians who hold rocks. There are no such discussions in Palestinian society. There are no systems really that can allow for Palestinians to feel like they actually have a political representative. Fatah, or the PA, is just a blatant puppet of the Israeli government. No one trusts them lol. So which avenues are we supposed to turn to when we are shot even as we peacefully protest? If our avenues rely on Israelis to decide that for us, then is that liberation? Is that freedom?

There is just a deep, deep dishonesty in people's treatment of defining what a state represents vs an individual and its almost always weaponized against Palestinians when we talk about the violence we experience and how we counter it.

[quinloki]

Hi!

Ok so i hope you don't mind me dropping this for your kinky head canons

i used the generator and well this is the result of it - tickling, sir kink & resistance play

maybe for Rayleigh, Izou & Shanks pretty please 👉👈

Oh what an interesting collection of kinks to go with a Very Nice Collection of Blorbos oh my goodness!

I love this <3

Sir Kink and Rayleigh, gods love me, seas take me, tickling and Shanks - Hnnnnnnnngh SIR KINK WITH IZOU I--

Let's shall, shall we?

Ah - Quick Pause, just in case anyone doesn't know. Sir Kink and Tickling are pretty straight forward (and you'll understand them better as you read this, if you don't already) - but Resistance Kink is specifically about, well, resisting. And Fighting back - it's not the same as CNC, in that your resistance isn't because you want them to stop, or you're trying to actually fight them off. It's the act of defiance that's the thrill of it - whether you successfully escape, or are successfully subdued is often irrelevant.

The struggle is the point. but it can be very physical, slapping, throwing punches, kicking, etc. Your level of resistance should definitely be discussed prior, because a broken nose is only sexy if your partner was prepared for the possibility ^_^;

Izou:

Resistance Play - Yes - It's not that he's against you trying to resist, but it's not high up on his personal list. He doesn't want your resistance, he wants your compliance.

Well, maybe not your physical resistance. I do think he enjoys brat taming a lot more than resistance play, but in the end he does expect/intend for you to bend to his will.

Sir Kink - Oh god you don’t even know - Izou's certainly a fan of Rules and Protocols. Very much appreciates the structure of it all, and Sir Kink is a high protocol. It's a term of respect, one he certainly earns.

Just the idea of being in suspension bondage, or shibari, his fan under your chin, holding you in a specific position, waiting quietly for you to acquiesce and call him sir. The look on his face says he knows exactly when you're going to say it, precisely when you're going to break against his will. When the brattiness takes a backseat to the grounding sensation of being in his control.

The very slight turn of his lip as "Yes, Sir." passes your sweet lips.

Tickling - Oh god you don’t even know - He's evil - EVIL - with tickling. Absolutely horrid, wretched, terrible T-T He uses his nails to tease the start of a tickle, only to stop and just like almost barely not really touch you. He'll talk to, and muse about where you might be ticklish and how much.

How you'll flinch and twist when he gets to close to certain places, the way you laugh before he's even touched you. The soft smile on his lips and the devious glint in his eyes tells you he's enjoying himself immensely. He might have you crying and screaming, but he'll have you worn out and begging for mercy even if you've really only laughed a handful of times.

Silvers Rayleigh:

Resistance Play - Oh god you don’t even know - You can't really hurt him. No one's really been able to hurt him for a LONG time. He's just too skilled at haki, frankly, and too experienced to get caught off guard, so please do resist.

Resist as much as you want, as violently as you like, he'll subdue you until you stop squirming, and then he'll let you go. You can try again, go on, he does love it when you squirm and struggle for him. One of these times when he subdues you, he'll take him prize, and you'll be squirming and writhing for completely difference reasons.

Well, you might still be resisting, but you won't be able to resist that first orgasm. And certainly not the fifth one.

Sir Kink - Oh god you don’t even know - you might as well just call him Sir from the start. You're not going to get away with much of anything else to be honest. There's only maybe two or three people that get to call him by name in the bedroom.

He'll be seemingly nonchalant about it, and he'll accept "Master" too, he thinks it's cute, but you don't need to defer to him quite so completely. Sir is respectful enough. If you learn and use your manner quick enough you might not even need to worry about being punished for any disrespect.

Tickling - FUCK Yes - You know you can lose control of your bladder from being tickled too much? You can hyperventilate and pass out too - but only if you're lucky. Otherwise you'll stay conscious and feel like you're on the verge of passing out for hours. Well, if you're lucky, or if you're being tickled by someone who can stop just before you'd pass out >.>

Certainly he can use it to build anticipation. He can use it to spice up the pleasure. He can use it to torture you for days before forcing orgasms out of you. You'll be begging to do anything for him by the end of it -especially if it's being done as a punishment.

Good luck though, there's two things Rayleigh loves to hear from his partners >.>

Shanks:

Resistance Play - Oh god you don’t even know - I mean, let's be fair, if you land a hit on Shanks it's because he let you. So please, resist to your hearts content. Scream and rage and let everything out at him, he can take it and more.

On a more playful note he's just a solid partner if you like to struggle a resist to get your blood going.

He loves it though - he loves the energy and the passion. the fight and fire. The way you can really get into sometimes, and the even more than the resistance itself, what he really likes is that moment that you give in. He would let you fight him for hours, days, if you so desired, just to watch that moment where you give in. Where you purr so sweetly for him, where you accept him, where you decide you've gotten all your resistance out of your system and it's him you accept.

He'll watch it happen a dozen times before it finally comes to pass.

Sir Kink - Yes - Sir, Master, Captain, Bastard - xD Shanks doesn't really care what you call him. He appreciates the concept of Protocols and the things that having rules and such can do to elevate a dynamic between you and him, but it's not an end all be all for him.

Admittedly he really likes to hear you say his name - on the rare occasions you're coherent enough to even say it.

Tickling - Oh god you don’t even know - Much like with Rayleigh there's two sounds Shanks really loves to hear coming from his partners. One is the sound of them orgasming because of him, the other is the sound of their laughter.

whether it's because he's told a joke, or because he's tickling them mercilessly. He's not nearly as cruel about it as Izou or Rayleigh, but he is relentless. Soft caresses that turn into unavoidable tickles, a firm grip you think is the start of a massage that turns into the kind of tickle that bubbles up as a groan.

If you give him the sweetest little "Noooooo...." he might be convinced to change tack. But you're going to have to let him hear his other favorite sound.

How May I Kink Your Head Canon?

[nobodysomeday]

hii so im pretty new here and i kinda wanted to know the tea on jason and why he quit the band? also did he get married or has any kids? i genuinely know nothing about him but that he and robbie didn’t really get along when in the band in the 90s 😬

Hi anon! I am also pretty new here yay <3

Okay. The Orange flavoured tea... btw take all I'm about to say with a grain of salt. I am not an authority. I am just a freak on the internet who finds Jason Orange to be a really fascinating character and reads too much into everything [long post]

Marriage, kids, women

I'll answer the easy part first: no, he's not been married or had kids. Which is a shame because he used to mention wanting that for himself one day. How true that is, I can't be sure. But he seemed very sincere about it when he was young.

His relationships with and attitudes about women are something I could talk about another time, I'm still figuring out how to put it into words. But basically: it's a bit odd.

Why did he quit?

You also asked the big question. You get a big answer.

There has been a lot of speculation over the years around Jason leaving. Was there a falling out? Was it for legal reasons? Is it covering up a scandal? What would possess a man to leave one of the most successful bands to ever come out of the UK?

Coming into the fandom in 2025, we get the benefit of hindsight when we look into the history of Take That. So with Jason, I've actually found the reason for his departure pretty obvious. I doubt there was a falling out, there's nothing those guys can't patch up. I guess I could see legal issues or some other scandal playing a part, but at the end of the day he wouldn't have gone if he didn't want to go. That's the basic answer.

The deeper answer begins with the fact that he wasn't much appreciated during the 90s run. He had a good time but felt out of place, and Gary especially was quite bad at reinforcing those ideas (jokes about his irrelevance, not giving him a chance to sing lead, etc.) So when it came to the comeback, he almost didn't do it.

"It was just total and utter nonsense for me to even contemplate it." (Jason, in Look Back Don't Stare)

"I felt a lot of revulsion about everything. I was so unsure of what I was doing there [documentary screening in 2005] and it was a horrible day. I was stony-faced with absolute fear and totally bewildered by it all... It was a very tense time for all of us, but I felt it the worst... I had no idea whether it was the right or wrong thing to do. I was in no-man's land." (Jason, in Take Two)

"Jason can get a bit down on the whole thing. He can have those feelings of not deserving to be there. I don't think he enjoyed the comeback tour. He was working stuff out about what Take That was... With Jason, he can feel a bit intimidated." (Gary, in Take Two)

He simply did not have the confidence. He was also always uneasy about fame, and at the time of the Ultimate Tour this was one of his concerns because after 10 years away he was on his way to being anonymous. The comeback undid that and he became irreversibly famous. So the ground was laid even before it began. He didn't want to do it in the first place.

And that reluctance carried him through for two albums and three tours. Again, like in the 90s, there is no doubt that he did enjoy it. He loved Take That, and during his time in the band he expressed so much pride. He was often the MOST enthusiastic member. But what made him commit if he was so conflicted in 2005?

In my mind there were three main things that made it happen. The first is friendship, the most fundamental part of Take That for Jason. And with it was the promise of a more equal treatment. They were going to be a proper band this time and all their voices would be heard, both literally on the album and in the collaboration. Not that this ever truly became reality for Jay on the same level as Mark and Howard, but I get the sense that it didn't bother him all that much. Although the way he addresses it in interviews he is somewhat self-deprecating about it.

The second is money. It's very interesting to me that he's the only one to reference this motivation and be honest about it. He brings it up as a joke sometimes, but it is so legitimate. The third thing that made his return happen is this complex part of his personality and psychology that I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out and it basically comes down to the idea of fight vs flight. For some reason, Jason has it in him to tackle big things like this, even when he has every freedom to say no and go with the safer option. I think in the instance of the comeback, the pros outweighed the cons and he didn't want to let the other three or the fans down. So he took the plunge.

And what did that bring? Enormous success. Unfathomable success. He had the money he wanted, and he got the friendship he wanted. With them all more mature they could do the business in a more comfortable way.

"The most interesting aspect for me about being in Take That now is the bond that we're sharing and can share in the future. The fact that we're mates and we're going through life together and meeting challenges together and successes and disappointments, that's the journey and it's brilliant." (Jason in 2008)

I think highlighting the brotherhood is so important in this discussion because in my mind it is the be all AND end all of Jason being in Take That. Meaning it's why he was there, and it's also part of why he left.

Jason loved being in TT4 for those 4 or so years. But he REALLY loved being five again when Rob came back. When they got together for Progress, Jason says his "excitement was invigorated," and when Rob briefly backed out Jason was gutted. In the documentary he talks about how the band "felt whole again." Clearly Rob's presence meant a LOT to Jason. It did for all five of them, it was a really special time, but it perfectly encapsulates Jason's relationship with Take That and his priorities.

If you watch them in Look Back Don't Stare, there's a moment where Jason and Rob have a disagreement. Jason takes an issue with a verse of Rob's and they go back and forth for a bit before Jay quietly gets up and leaves. When he comes back, Rob explains that he felt hard done by the criticism because it'd taken him a few days to write and he was connected to how he'd done it. He also apologises for being defensive. It's that level of understanding and empathy and communication that really affects me when I see it. It's an example of what Jason wanted. He said he wasn't afraid to hit a wall or argue. He wanted it. It was healing.

Progress was a full circle experience. Mark was floating for a year. It was also exactly what Rob needed and it gave him the confidence to return to his solo career. Unfortunately, when Rob left that was all the reason Jason needed to leave too.

So why does he not stay in contact with the others? Why did he disappear? This is a whole other question honestly, with a few different explanations. But I think it's just simply that he wants to leave it behind. He's 54 years old, he wants a normal life with his boring business (which just so happens to make a shitton of money. recurring theme, anyone?). Take That was a chapter in his life and it ended a long time ago. He got the closure he needed, and he doesn't care to be a musician. I think it'd be too distracting and maybe painful to still be around TT3.

Relationship with Robbie

Finally: I understand why people think Jason and Robbie didn't get on in the 90s. As the "wise, level-headed" one, Jason would've found Rob's antics and immaturity annoying. It's also known that Jason felt responsible for pushing Rob out of the band, hence why that reconciliation was so important.

Personally, I think they got on fine, generally. Their dynamic in the band isn't seen as much as the others, and of the Rob pairings it's probably the weakest. They were so oppositional they probably didn't know what to do with each other. Rob thought very highly of himself and was ambitious since the beginning, but he still recognised that Jay knew what he was doing. He was older and actually had the experience. Then as the band took off, Jason settled into his position while Rob was Not Doing That. I think for all his nonchalance, Jason took Take That very seriously. It probably frustrated him that Rob wasn't playing along. Jason also probably held resentment towards him for the fallout his leaving brought. There were serious complications between July '95 when Rob left and February '96 when the band announced the split. It left a lot of broken bitterness. Jason refused to engage with Rob in any form, he never bought his music for instance, but clearly, deep down, he wanted to reconcile. They loved each other. They were brothers. That's how it is with brothers.

[drdemonprince]

doctor demon prince im in my 5th year of undergrad suffering from functional freeze and Cant Write Papers disease (subtype where i eventually write it 7 months later and its really good for how rushed it is). ive also been doing unmasking work and trying to make progress w my nervous system and my relationships, i still have a long way to go . im going to graduate eventually (who fucking knows when) but with a pretty shit gpa.

Anyway my question is why the fuck do i keep wanting to get a masters degree when i know this setting sucks real bad for me. i love 2 learn but either dont have a handle on my adhd/autistic workflow yet or simply dont have the combination of traits it takes to succeed in academia. and i have student loans. i probably wont be accepted to any masters programs anyway but i dont know what else to do !!!!!!!!!!! 🙃 seeing as this is the transgender autistic grad student website maybe u or some of ur followers have advice for me..... 🫶 ok thank u byeee

I'm sorry to have to say this, but why do you want to go to graduate school? It will drive you deeply into debt, cause you a huge amount of stress, subject you to a wildly inaccessible environment where student neurodivergences are often unfairly cast as signs of laziness and lack of academic potential, and, in a majority of fields, it doesn't lead to improved career prospects (typically, the equivalent amount of time spent working in your chosen profession will get you just as far, if not farther, than a graduate degree).

I don't recommend graduate school to almost anyone. Graduate school was a stigmatizing, exhausting, abusive, exploitative, traumatizing experience for me that left me profoundly socially isolated and physically sick, and trained me in an increasingly irrelevant and scientifically unsound field that basically does nothing but regurgitate neoliberal truisms back to the elites that already believe in them.

Some of the faults I've just listed don't apply to *every* academic field in the world -- but it does apply to most of them!

I think it's important for people to know that Master's degree programs are, by and large, created as a revenue source for universities. Undergraduate enrollment has hit a wall -- there's only so many more people who can go to college, in a world where college has become increasingly obligatory, college pays off professionally far less than it used to, and in times of low unemployment there's very little reason to go to school -- and so the possibility of growing undergraduate enrollment has become more and more thin. This means universities have been unable to turn growing profits for years. And that's what matters to them -- profits.

Left without the revenue source of more college students' tuitions, universities have turned toward courting repeat customers -- duping college graduates who are unhappy with their post-graduate career prospects by investing in even more school. In most Master's degree programs, there are very high fees, very limited financial aid, and very very limited mentorship (compared to, say PhD programs, where shepherding you through the program is at least an advisor's duty).

I've worked in higher ed administration for years now and I've seen how disposable Master's degree students are taken to be -- they're paying for a pricey credential and they get very little out of it, in the end -- in most programs, and most contexts. When we need to fill a budget gap, we create a new Master's program -- without regard for whether it is necessary, and without ever being able to prove it will aid our graduates in getting jobs, or even that the degree will fill a necessary niche.

You can feel free to write back to me if yours is a field where a master's degree is necessary or yields positive career outcomes for a great many people (social work and athletic training come to mind). But even still, I don't think you should subject yourself to a completely inaccessible environment that you are already struggling in and taking on more debt to do so. You deserve better than that. And 99% of graduate programs will not do right by you.

If you'd like to read more about just how exploitative graduate programs generally are, and why, I recommend Karen Kelsky's book The Professor is In, or her blog of the same name:

[greenerteacups]

What are your thoughts on the magic system, both how JKR has created it in canon and also how you have tried to deepen or change it in Lionheart? In a lot of fanon/other series there’s more clear rules surrounding use of magic and magical strength or talent than it seems like JKR developed in canon.

Current fantasy publishing has trended hard towards hard magic systems, i.e. systems with clear rules, limits, and costs, because those systems make it really easy to establish stakes. Sanderson's books are a great example of hard magic used well, because his books are really interested in how societies built around magic would use them to solve problems.

Soft magic, in contrast, doesn't operate on clear limits. But that doesn't mean it's bad, it's just a different kind of worldbuilding. In his article, Sanderson points out that while hard magic systems thrive on getting the reader invested and scheming with the characters, it de-mystifies the "magic" of it all; it basically becomes technology. Meanwhile, soft magic systems are great at mustering awe and wonder. The risk of a hard magic system is you make your world feel mundane. The risk of a soft magic system is you make your stakes feel irrelevant. Neither of these are necessarily true, they're just risks you need to manage when you're writing. And good authors can manage them. For soft magic writers, you need to be really careful to show that your universe has problems that magic can't solve, even if you don't break down why it can't solve them. Martin and Tolkien are great examples of this. Why can't the eagles fly everyone to Mount Doom? I dunno, but I know they can't! And I trust that a world with his richness and verisimilitude, things happen for reasons, and those reasons, if explained to me, would be satisfying. When Tolkien tells me the eagles aren't a viable solution to the problem of the Ring, I just trust him. Because he's put in the work to make this world believable. Do I need him to invent some fictional rule about eagles being, like, physically unable to cross over that mountain range? What would that accomplish? The thing about magic being soft is you can just accept that sometimes It Doesn't Work, and you're fucked. So there's still a sense of tension and stakes for your characters, because they can't always depend on magic to get the job done. Another way around this problem is just to make the stakes of your series rest on something that magic can't solve, like emotional conflict, or a mystery. This is actually most of the Harry Potter books, in my opinion; they have pretty good stakes that almost always stem from human beings in conflict with each other, which isn't something that you can wave a wand and make go away.

Rowling's magic system is somewhere between hard and soft, whereas you can do X and reliably expect Y magical outcome, but also, it's pretty soft where the limit is. I don't mind this, because I'm pretty willing to handwave glitches in the magic system where it improves the story — so long as it's not a glitch that opens a plot hole, I'm fine not understanding How or Why Exactly a given piece of magic was executed. Dumbledore's escape from the aurors in fifth year, for instance. I don't know how he did that! Doesn't bother me. Because plot-wise, it doesn't make a difference. Because whether or not Dumbledore uses a mechanic I'm familiar with doesn't change the impact of the scene or my understanding of his abilities. The point is that he's super powerful and it would take way more than four aurors to nab him. Cool! Got it. No problem. But if Dumbledore was able to cast a spell that made Umbridge resign? I would be pissed. I don't want magic to fix that problem! I want the characters to develop and emotionally respond to challenges! Don't fuck with my stakes, man!

What also bothers me is when the books introduce technology that does work like straight-up hard magic, i.e., Time Turners. There is no reason a Time Turner should ever fail. It doesn't have a cost; it doesn't have a limit. This is insanely OP, and Rowling has admitted that it kind of fucked her worldbuilding. So I took it out in my fic, because I didn't want to be assed. I've peppered in a few limitations of my own on some things; I've hardcore nerfed Apparation, because I like travel sequences and I think teleportation is boring. The nature of the resurrection magic used by Voldemort seems big enough that there frankly should be a cost, so I'm thinking about that as I'm writing Book 6. Same with the horcruxes. In general, I think the nature of "dark magic" wants more explanation, so I'm trying to get into that more in the future. Plus also Lily's blood protection, and the horcrux/soul-splintering thing, and basically What All Went Down, Magically Speaking, With The Potters—? I'm interested in that. It implies the existence of much older and weirder magical mechanics than we've seen in the rest of the series. How can you do magic unintentionally? Was it unintentional? Much to figure out.

The spell system in general I don't mind, although I think Avada Kedavra is a terrible idea. you have this beautiful unbounded combat system that could be so creative and then you just. gave every wizard a gun. Sad! Also, I really like the idea in the last book of "you have to mean it," with respect to the Unforgivables, which ties in with how the Patronus requires an emotional component; it implies something about intention and willpower that seems like a potentially interesting mechanic.