#It was so important to me and they have all helped me to grow as a person too. I mean im still sensetive af but being around them has

[circuitcircus]

in defense of kabumisu……..

addressing things I see people say about why kabru being shipped w mithrun is ‘bad’ or why their canon relationship ‘doesn’t mean anything’ while also clearing up misconceptions of the characters some fans have

listen it keeps popping up and I just gotta do this or my brain will melt (if you don’t see it around then god I wish that were me) feel free not to read lol there’s an age gap!- erm there’s also an age gap in farcille (ily), the most popular ship in the series...also chilchuck looks like a kid but a lot of fans recognize him as a dilf because of his relative age, so there should be no age gap discourse among adult characters because it feels so conditional tbh

kabru taking care of mithrun is racist!- marcille likes to take care of others as well. is that sexist, or just an aspect of her character?

kabru isn’t treated like a servant, waiting on mithrun hand and foot…I mean he gives mithrun a foot massage but no one told him to do all that lmfao

he's also not the only one to care for mithrun. pattadol is shown to worry for him and milsril was the one to start taking care mithrun in the first place after he…...y’know. speaking of which-

they probably met when kabru was a kid!- neither of them showed signs of recognizing each other the entire time mithrun was introduced nor when they were together. and im pretty sure KABRU of all people would show some kind of recognition if they'd met before. it's kabru!!! the people person!!! mr. "i-noted-down-50+-characters-in-this-dude's-backstory-for-fun-and-actually-enjoy-social-gatherings"

you would think some kind of memory would come back to him especially after hearing mithrun’s backstory if milsril had even told kabru about him as a kid. but nope. it’s just fan speculation unless there's a side comic suggesting otherwise that i haven't seen

mithrun doesn't care about kabru, his shapeshift double looked like shit!- it's obviously because of mithrun's (then) lack of desires that it looked like that, but they really grow on each other

i think it's safe to assume it'd look more like kabru after they spent so much time together (also laios can barely even remember kabru's name, give this guy a hug)

mithrun is racist!- he’s actually the least likely character to be racist since he lost his desires and that includes a desire for superiority over others. he even calls his past self out on that part of himself. the other elves in that side comic were being just as racist to shorter lived races but just didn’t use ‘outdated slurs’

(unfortunately literally every main character in dunmeshi is at least a lil prejudiced, but I believe it’s worldbuilding and a sign of the times rather than a reason ryoko kui is giving to hate each character)

taking care of others is a pain in the ass!- saying this as a reason kabru and mithrun shouldn't be together is basically saying disabled people shouldn't be allowed to have romantic relationships because they're a "burden"...if someone is actually willing to put in the work, then let them be.

that's not even all of their relationship, mithrun is the fighter of their duo and kabru would've been killed by the shapeshifter or something if he'd fallen down the hole on his own since he sucks at fighting monsters. mithrun helps collect ingredients for cooking every time, too (barometz fruits and griffin egg). he pulls his weight and then some!! i feel like people forget that part of mithrun a lot somehow.

+senshi literally cooks for everyone all time. it's kind of an important aspect of the narrative.

+also, while it is a popular fan thing I see around that kabru handfeeds mithrun, he literally never does lol this is mithrun using his own hands to eat:

also here we have him washing his own body

just saying because people like to treat mithrun like a baby even though the narrative respects him as a capable adult who also has special needs because of an accident. he’s captain for a reason

kabru hates taking care of mithrun!- not exactly, he was initially surprised and put off but got used to it quickly. i’m sure he’s grateful for all the times mithrun saved him from a monster and teleported them out of danger as well

he even starts doing “unnecessary” things for mithrun’s comfort and safety like when mithrun pushes himself too hard fighting, even after his mission to take care of him was complete when the canaries came back

here is even kabru resting while mithrun keeps watch (mithrun let him sleep for 5 hours before waking him up from the nightmare earlier, too):

there's nothing more to their relationship!- they actually have had a very tight and consistent dynamic since they met and they incite the most change within each other by the end. kabru is the one who inspires mithrun to create new desires so he doesn't waste away, and mithrun is the first person we see kabru being genuine with and it leads him to be more honest with others by the end instead of tiptoeing around everyone all the time (that mask was also the reason some ppl initially disliked kabru…)

kabru’s relationship with mithrun is honestly so important for his character and vice versa, but it’s often disregarded because of one over exaggerated aspect of it (an aspect that isn’t even the first way they interact with each other) or because people want to just straight up ignore it for some reason 🥲🥲

kui dedicates many panels to them that don't particularly serve the narrative as a whole in order to demonstrate this and i think that's pretty significant

you're taking this too seriously!- as if i'm the first person in the world to be crazy about a ship or the characters 😭 i love analyzing text and it's upsetting to see them mischaracterized when kui lays out the characters so clearly and deliberately

also they end up touching each other like all the time and have the kind of canon validation most ppl can only dream of lol i feel so insane look at this:

and this is just when they're first getting to know each other cuz there's a fuckload more

kinda hard to explain how i don't actually need them to get married or whatever but i'd die on this hill for them and i enjoy their dynamic immensely

haha you thought you were reading ship discourse but it was actually a character analysis 🤪🤪🤪

also don’t somehow take this to mean I think anyone has to ship them, I just need everyone to understand these accusations kind of don’t make sense especially when they can also apply to other pairs or characters

I find it fun that mithrun waited for kabru to wake up before moving on after they first fell through the hole. why indeed…idk but it’s cute either way

bonus kabru looking at mithrun:

#dungeon meshi #kabumisu #kabru of utaya #mithrun #dungeon meshi spoilers #i'd rather be able to enjoy their dynamic without feeling like i have to explain it but i keep seeing the same takes i cant do this anym- #i feel like i advocate for kabumisu so much because i see so many people mischaracterizing kabru to make l4bru work like how they want #by saying he’s obsessed w laios because he thinks he’s hot..but he was curious about his autistic behavior and eventually thought his lack #of malice would make laios the best candidate for becoming dungeon lord to prevent another utaya tragedy. tho eventually he doubts that #not that i care that he's shipped with laius. i just want ppl to see kabru for who he IS bc some still think hes nothing but a shady bicth #i think that's best shown through his dynamic with mithrun (other than his own words of course) so i want ppl to acknowledge it properly #like idk if I can trust popular fan interpretations of the characters or relationships anymore after the shit with toshiro bro 💀💀 #not trying to attach kabru’s entire being to mithrun or anything either just..saying #hm i feel like the way i worded all of this will make some ppl mad. not my intention but whoops #anyways has anyone drawn ship art of senshi and mithrun yet? anyone?

[ben-talks-art]

Okay... This episode of Digital Circus almost made me cry... almost!

When I saw the first episode of this show I knew I was going to really like it, but I wasn't prepared for how much I was going to love it. This reminds me of when X-Men 97 premiered and even though we were only two episodes in I could already tell this was going to be something special.

I know it's super, super early to say this, but this might become one of my favorite shows. The way they handled this episode really worked for me in a way I haven't felt in a while.

From the very first scene things already start on a really strong note, with our main lead, Pomni, having nightmares about the worst-case scenario from the new situation she's in where she imagines herself being affected by the circus glitch and being abandoned by the rest of the cast.

This does a great job setting up her sense of isolation and how she thinks she's on her own even though they all should be on the same boat together.

This gets highlighted even more as another member of the circus, Ragatha, is seen constantly trying to show her support and getting Pomni to cheer up despite the dreadful situation they're in while Pomni herself just acts indifferent as if she had already given up on everything and everyone.

I found this characterization of hers so relatable because I also used to think for a while that my problems were mine and mine alone and that everyone trying to help me were doing that just out of obligation and not because they really cared.

For some reason it felt "safer" to just assume I couldn't count on anyone because then I wouldn't have to worry about being disappointed in anyone, after all, you can't get disappointed if you don't get your hopes up.

So imagine how hyped I got when I saw that they indirectly made Pomni realize why it's important to rely on people when they switched the roles and placed her on the position where she needed to be there for someone.

I wanted to jump and slam my desk while shouting "Perfect! Perfect! This is just perfect!!"

Everything that needed to be said was being said just in the right way, just at the right time, and with the right amount of emotion, just the right amount of seriousness and levity.

Cause here's the thing, the media often has this obnoxious tendency of portraying antisocial characters as people that need to just "Get over it."

A lot of writers enjoy lumping grumpy characters, and reserved characters, depressed characters, angry characters and all these stuff as people who just need someone to cheer them up and have them forget about their problems, as if they were babies that just need to grow up and learn to be less grumpy so they can join in with the fun alongside everyone else.

You notice that it's always a person in a bad mood + someone who's always cheerful, happy, and with a child-like joyful attitude to be their contrast or someone to call them out on their "grumpyness."

And that always bothers me because it makes it seem like they're downplaying someone's struggle or inner turmoil as if they were minor things that they latch onto to just because nobody has told them to let it go yet.

I like when stories showcase why people struggle so much to let go of this mindset, why they struggle to open up to others and find themselves cheering to their day-to-day lives again.

But I'm also aware that this is not an easy task cause it's basically asking to show someone being depressed for a good portion of your story, and if that goes on for too long or it starts diving into a too heavy of a territory, it can make it a challenge just to watch.

So yeah, I get it, it's hard to find the right balance.

To show why someone needs to overcome their personal demons, while also making it an enjoyable experience to go through.

You don't want a case like Legend Of Korra where Lin Beifong's issues were pretty much treated as a joke, but you also don't want something like the Beast Boy segments from Young Justice where every scene with him just felt the same thing for 5 or 6 episodes, even though they were realistic scenes depicting someone going through what he was dealing with and they all built up to an amazing conclusion with Black Canary... But it was still draining to go through that.

You need to find the right balance and I felt like this episode really succeeded in that. You get why Pomni feels the way she does and you get why Ragatha tries so hard to help her out and why it's important that she keeps trying even when it seems like there is no point.

I really like how Ragtha isn't just "Cheer up, Pomni! Let me show you the secret to enjoying life!", she's actually trying to be sensitive of her situation, giving her the space and time she needs, and being there for her but not forcing herself on her.

She validates Pomni's pain but also knows it's a pain that she needs to learn how to deal with, otherwise, she's just gonna miss out on her own life.

The final scene was the thing that really got me.

When Pomni finally realized that the same way she tried to help out that NPC when they were stuck, she also needs to let others help her out.

It took me so long to realize in life that I don't need to deal with everything on my own, that I had people there for me, that I'm allowed to be vulnerable and make mistakes and that the people around me who love and care about me would still be there for me.

It took way, way too long for me to realize all that, so to see that final shot of Pomni imagining herself falling just like in her dream, but this time she had trust that her friends would be there to catch her, it really hit me good.

I'm not sure how to explain it but for some reason I was really proud of her for learning such an important lesson so quickly that it took me so long to learn myself. Like, I know she's not real, she's a fictional character, but I felt an immense relief while thinking people would watch this, and learn from this, and not make the same mistakes I did.

I have no idea where this show is going, but I feel like I'm in safe hands and can't wait to see what else they're going to do and where they're going to go.

I'm very very hyped for this series!

Also, I know this makes me a monster, but this scene made me laugh. :)

#the amazing digital circus #digital circus #tadc pomni #pomni #tadc ragatha #pomni x ragatha #Youtube

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

charlie stealing the wings off adam's corpse for herself and vaggie thinks that's hot AU, blame @a-cold-day-in-pentagram-city for this not me

the cannibals eat the rest of the first dude but dont wanna deal with plucking out feathers so charlie and vaggie scoop up all the wings left over from the dead angels in their front yard, shoving them in a side room of the new hotel

after a bit charlie's like "Should we.... send his wings BACK up there? For burial or something???" and vaggie's like "We could I guess." and charlie's already stroking the wings "Kinda pretty aren't they? When he's not wearing them anyway." which makes vaggie actually look at the wings charlie's petting and go "You know. They ARE kinda the same gold color as your hair...." and they both stare at the wings, and at each other,

and then charlie's in front of a full length mirror checking herself out as Vaggie holds the wings up behind her and they're giggling a little bc really this is so SO morbidly disrespectfully silly but DAMN does charlie look gooooooood with her mom's ex's fancy wings- in fact she looks so good and feels so smug about it that her and vaggie get a little distracted and

charlie drags her dad aside the next morning "Dad I need wings it's important don't ask why but can you please help please" and shapeshifer luicfer's delighted like "OH YOU ENJOY CHANGING YOUR LIVING FLESH VESSEL TOO?? GOSH GOLLY THIS IS ANOTHER PERFECT FATHER DAUGHTER BONDING MOMENT!!!" charlie stops him right there "Dad no I don't want to grow the wings myself there's already a specific pair I want" which has lucifer doing the supportive but confused "??? Okay char-char? What... what wings did you had in m-" charlie holds up the limp wings of her mom's ex / her girlfriend's shitty ex employer "These ones. Don't ask." - "Wh.. why those ones-" - "DAD PLEASE I SAID DON'T ASK."

he doesn't ask. he tries not to think about it either. after all it's a fun chaotic creation request from his daughter and tbh the idea of her having rubber ducky colored wings is very cuuuute to him so it's pretty easy not to think any further past it than that

until he sees a thrilled charlie on her way, leaping and almost crashing out the nearest window before her angel gf swoops in to catch her. seeing chaggie together reminds lucifer of him and lilith, like always, and he sighs in wistful happiness, like always- until he freezes in a cold terror, shaken to the core by the sudden knowledge that he might someday have to explain to his estrange wife why their daughter is flying around on the wings of the dead guy his wife rejected once and who sent murder angels down to kill their people every year for funsies

... on second thought, lilith might be the MOST excited about that of anyone. Or, almost anyone, if the emotionally scaring sounds of chaggie fliting mid air are anything to go by

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #lucifer morningstar #charlie equips dead adams wings like a fancy mink stole au #utter silliness #what even #lute is horrified adam's wings are being used to enhance chaggie's vile and abominable love life and to vaggie that is an extra bonus

[acewritesfics]

This is my Fucking Wedding Day | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No

Warnings: Swearing. S/N - Sister's Name, S/H - Sister's Husband, E/C - Eye Colour.

Word Count: 1,272

Tommy Shelby Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Standing in a slip and stockings with her makeup freshly applied, Y/N tells her mother, "I need to see Tommy."  

"You're well aware that you cannot see him right now. It is unlucky for the groom to see his bride in her wedding gown before she walks down the aisle," Her mother makes her objections known.  

"Have you forgotten who Tommy is?" She inquires while casting a wary gaze at her mother. "That man creates his own bad luck; he doesn't need a ridiculous superstition to create it for him. And also, I won't be wearing my wedding gown."  

"And you still want to marry him? I thought he was a gypsy. Doesn't he believe in such 'ridiculous' superstitions?"  

"You wouldn't need to ask that question if you actually took the time to get to know him," Y/N scolds her. She stops her seamstress from bringing her gown to her, asking for her silk robe instead.  

Her mother has never been accepting of Tommy, and her entire family disapproves of the Birmingham gangster, who will soon become her husband. Her mother and father have no trouble reminding her that Tommy isn't good enough for her, that all he brings is trouble and death, and that she'll be the next to perish, whether it's by his hands or by an enemy that he's enraged. However, despite what others say and have said, she has continued her relationship with the man she loves so deeply.  

She acknowledges that Thomas Shelby isn't a flawless man, but she also believes that he has wonderful qualities and those qualities have led her to fall so in love with him.  

Her father and siblings despise Tommy so much that they refused to attend her wedding. Its broke Y/N's heart when they couldn't even pretend to be happy for her. At least her mother was trying to try for her. Her mother knew she would feel regret and shame for missing her youngest daughter's most important day. Not to mention, she doesn't want to appear prejudiced. The older woman also wed a man that her family didn't approve.  

She defends Tommy and their relationship by saying, "I know he's not perfect like S/N's husband, but I am in love with Tommy, and he loves me."  

The fact that her sister had become pregnant with Andrew, her oldest nephew, after only knowing her husband for two months made it clear why she had wed him. S/H, her husband, is a renowned attorney who is adored by everyone and well regarded in his legal community. Their marriage was good, and they made it work but the only love they shared was the mutual love they had for their children they had together when they tried to make it work, romantically.  

"Now, could you kindly hand me my robe?" she asks, growing irritated with her mother's constant putting down of her soon-to-be husband. The seamstress brought the silk robe to Y/N's mother who handed it to her with a disapproving glare.  

There are times when Y/N's mother regrets being as headstrong and stubborn as she is since now, she has a daughter who is just like her. As a child, Y/N was always the one who resembled her the most since she was independent, headstrong, outspoken and free-spirited. Y/N carried some of those characteristics into adulthood. Those same characteristics helped her to tame her Peaky Blinder lover.  

Y/N pulls on her robe and ties the sash around her waist.  

"Your hair still has to be done," her mother calls after her as she walks toward the door.  

"I'll be back in a moment," She exits the room with a elegant boldness in her step and makes her way to the section of the church where Tommy, his brothers and the rest of his wedding party will be.  

Y/N is just about to knock on the door when Tommy's voice can be heard quite clearly above the others.  

"This is my fucking wedding day! I want you all to be on your best fucking behavior. My bride deserves to have her special day not ruined by anyone, including you lot. If anyone causes any fucking trouble, you will escort them as discreetly as possible out of the building and off the property. Gentlemen, this is not the day for violence. It is a day for celebration. If any of you start fighting, I'll fucking kill you myself. Do you understand what I am saying?"  

Tommy's speech is followed by a chorus of "yes boss."  

She knocks on the door and stands outside the room until someone opens it. She doesn't want to make a spectacle or grab anybody's attention by just being in her robe and a slip. She beams when she sees Finn, who has a surprised expression on his face when he realizes it's his soon-to-be sister-in-law. The youngest Shelby brother is by far her favourite among her in-laws, but she wouldn't admit it to anybody but Tommy. Though he aspires to be just like his brothers, he has never lost the innocence he's carried right through his childhood.   

"Miss Y/L/N, you're not supposed to be here."  

"I am aware, but I need to speak with Tommy. It won't take long, I swear" she promises the teenager. "Would you kindly get him for me?"  

"I can't say no to you, can I?" He chuckles softly and closes the door.  

A few seconds later, Tommy rushes out the door, a worried look on his handsome face. He stops in front of her and reaches for her waist. "Is everything all right?"  

She responds smiling, placing her hand on his face, softly caressing his cheek with her thumb as she looks into his breathtakingly gorgeous blue eyes, which had captured her interest since she first saw him in London three years ago.   

"Everything is perfect, Thomas, but there is something I need to tell you. I've been trying since yesterday morning, but we haven't had a moment alone to ourselves."  

"We're alone now, so what is it?" His voice is gentle and soothing.  

She takes one of his hands from around her waist and moves it toward her lower abdomen. "I learned that the illness I've been experiencing is not just pre-wedding nerves. I saw the doctor the day before yesterday after Polly made a remark about my body changing. Tommy, I'm pregnant."  

"You're pregnant?" His eyes widen in astonishment, yet his lips have a trace of a smile. "You're pregnant!"  

He continues to smile from ear to ear as he ends the kiss. "It's fortunate that our wedding is today. It's one less thing we have to worry about before the baby arrives."  

She looks at him with such affection in her E/C eyes that she lets out a soft giggle at what he said. "I love you, Mr. Shelby."  

"I love you as well, Mrs. Shelby," He responds leaning in to kiss her again.  

She leans in close to his lips and murmurs, "I'm not Mrs. Shelby quite yet."  

"It's just a matter of time," he replies before pressing his lips against hers and kissing her passionately, wanting nothing more than for their wedding to begin so she may become Mrs. Thomas Shelby.  

"Oi, you two leave it for the honeymoon, yeah?" Arthur's gruff voice broke the almost newlyweds apart. "Now Miss Y/L/N, I don't mean to sound rude, but you best be off to finish getting ready."  

"I'm on my way," she tells the oldest Shelby brother as she steps back from Thomas and leaves to go back to her chamber, leaving the two brothers to finish getting ready themselves. 

#acewritesfics repost #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby

[autistic-robin]

Why “Hiding in the Light” Didn’t Work: Stranger Things’ Psychospiritual Implications

Supplementary Sources: Jungian Theory & A Wrinkle In Time

Alright, buckle in. I’m running on a year’s worth of spiritual awakening, deep dives into Jungian theory and non-dualism, and my own ego’s primary coping mechanism: immersing myself in media as escapism. The purpose of this analysis is to break down the themes of non-dualism and light/darkness in ST (and maybe predict some character arcs), and also to position the narrative of ST as a psychospiritual wake-up call.

For some context: last year, I discovered the work of psychoanalyst (or philosopher, depending on who you’re talking to) Carl Jung. He had a pretty extensive theory about the human psyche that I immediately connected to the themes throughout Stranger Things, specifically Vecna’s mind control and curse. I’m going to break Jung’s theory down as succinctly as I can, and then delve into how it plays out in our favorite gay monster show.

But before I delve into Jung’s ideas, I also think it’s important to define selfhood (you’ll understand why in a minute). For the purposes of this analysis, the experience of the “self” is an illusion created by our senses, perceptions, memories, and consciousness, all of which are impermanent. Therefore, the self is what we call “conditioned.” There is no you or me, just the ideas we have of ourselves.

Now, we can get into Jung’s theory. He posited the following:

1. Every individual has a “persona” they show the world (a constructed self) to feel like they belong. Underneath this persona, everyone has a personal “shadow,” or the part of themselves they don’t want to acknowledge. This shadow is always projected onto others— every negative thought we have about someone else is a product of our own unintegrated shadow. Note: The shadow is NOT bad, it just “is.” It’s actually there to HELP us grow and integrate all the unhealed parts of us.

2. Individuals’ shadows are usually part of their unconscious, meaning most people are not aware of their shadow side or cannot bear to delve into their trauma/darkness and begin to heal it.

3. All of human consciousness is CONNECTED. This means two things. 1: There is a “collective unconsciousness” that contains the sum of all of our unintegrated trauma, and 2: We can heal our collective unconsciousness by healing our own unconsciousness.

How do we heal our own unconsciousness? By becoming AWARE of our shadow side, accepting and forgiving the conditioning that created it, and working to encourage others to do the same.

What— or rather, who— does that remind you of?

Also— great use of lighting here.

We know Vecna has direct access to his victims’ consciousness; not just their memories, cognition, and emotions, but also their awareness itself. This is how he’s able to target and trance people. But it’s not just their consciousness Vecna has access to; it’s their unconsciousness. Their shadow. Their trauma. Yes, he has psionic abilities akin to El’s, but as far as we know, El can’t access the collective unconsciousness like Vecna can. She is only capable of “remote viewing” via the void or piggybacking into people’s minds. So why is Vecna capable of this?

If you want my take on it: the only way to access a collective shadow would be through accessing your own shadow. So is Vecna really Henry, or his unintegrated shadow? And is either really condemnable, considering the larger themes of the show?

We see this theme of non-dualism echoed in Brenner’s NINA pep talk with El:

It’s fascinating to me that they’re communicating these bigger thematic ideas through the show’s “villians”— while the above conversation could be taken at surface-level as Brenner being manipulative, it’s important to acknowledge the truth of what he’s saying. NINA is only successful because El faces “the good and the bad.” This is why “hiding in the light” is a no-go for Max.

Focusing only on happy memories is a form of emotional bypassing. Throughout the show, we’ve been told time and again that hiding doesn’t work. Neither does running away. The only way out for our characters is through their own shadows.

Now, the fun part: predictions. Looking at all of this with a Jungian lens, it doesn’t make much sense to villianize a character or to end the story by “defeating evil.” In non-dual theory, there are no evil people, only unhealed ones.

We know what worked for our characters temporarily (Will in the UD, Max in her first trance, El using her powers against Vecna) was the memory and vibration of love.

This reminded me of A Wrinkle In Time, which is a science fiction novel that’s been noted more than a few times as one of Stranger Things’ primary influences. In the book, a girl and her brother travel through time to rescue their father from an alternate dimension where all beings are controlled in a hyper-individualist suburbia by a giant, all-knowing brain. The climactic “defeat” of the brain is shockingly simple, but incredible impactful— Meg, the heroine, tells it over and over that she loves it. This love ultimately brings her father and brother out of trances they are in, and they’re able to remember her and travel back home.

(Tangent: And God. The implications of that, outside of analyzing ST, are powerful. How do we live in a capitalist hellscape that is so caught up in the mind— in acheiving, obtaining, securing, protecting the ego— that many of us have forgotten our hearts? The answer is love. Loving ourselves more deeply to love all beings more deeply, “the good and the bad.” But love does not negate accountability, and it does not excuse harm.)

Our characters are all struggling with self-acceptance and self-love in some form or another. Each is wrestling with secrets and lies, and the desire to hide parts of themselves they think others can’t accept.

Mike is clearly struggling with self-loathing, guilt surrounding what happened to El in s1, and a crippling hero complex.

Will is also on the self-loathing train, continually self-sacrifices to his own detriment, and is hiding his identity out of fear (not at all villifying that, just for the record.)

El struggled to reconcile her abilities and forced weaponization with her identity outside of the lab pre-s4.

Max was suicidal and had a lot of self-hatred after B*lly’s death.

Nancy parallels Mike in her survivor’s guilt post-s1 and exhibits the same lack of self-preservation and self-sacrificing tendencies.

You get my point. So how will these characters overcome their trauma? Not through hiding, or running, or bypassing. Not through the light alone. Through love— acknowledgement of their own darkness, compassion for the unhealed nature of others, and commitment to being honest with themselves and their loved ones. We know Will is El and Henry’s mirror/foil and will play a central role in S5, and with all of this in mind I think it’s safe to say he will break the cycle of bypassing and hiding from trauma and pain once and for all. He won’t fight it like El, hide from it like Max, or run from it like he did as a kid.

Only by integrating their shadows can our characters become truly “themselves,” or as Brenner puts it, “whole.”

I will probably have much more to say about this after my re-read of A Wrinkle in Time, but for now, that’s all I’ve got. :) Hope everyone is doing well!

#i dont normally do posts like this but my brain has been whirring lately #stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #vecna #henry creel #st5 speculation #st analysis #stranger things analysis

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Rise : Chapter Sixteen

A Rafe Cameron Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

CHAPTER FIFTEEN | MASTERLIST | CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

IMPORTANT NOTE* hey ya’ll! just a reminder that my requests are OPEN. please read this POST before making any requests as i have rules in place. there are two spots left (which you will see at the bottom of the linked post). so get your requests in if you’re wanting to use me;p

            You were back where you started.

            In the room where you stayed before moving to Rafe’s, you sat against the furthest wall. Two chains were expertly locked around your ankles & drilled into the wall you rested against. You had tried pulling on them for hours but there was no give. Micah had made sure they would be secure, that you couldn’t escape again.

            You were still in the clothes you were wearing from the night that Bear escaped. You weren’t allowed to leave the room, even to shower. You felt disgusted with yourself but more so with the people who kept you locked in there.

            It wasn’t for another day & a half after Bear’s escape that you saw Rafe. Adrianna brought you food once & you didn’t miss the conflicted look in her eyes, torn somewhere between concern for you & anger for betraying Rafe. You couldn’t care. As long as Bear made it, that’s all that mattered. But they were out looking for him.

            At midday, the plate of half-eaten food forgotten beside you, you were struggling to rest comfortably against the brick wall. The rigidness dug into your spine painfully & you groaned annoyingly. The flimsy mattress you once slept on teased you in the corner of your eyes. It was just out of reach. You had tried many times, straining yourself against the chains to try & reach it. Your fingertips brushed against it many times in mockery.

            The jacket you wore that night was the only source of mild comfort you could find. You often rolled it up to act as a pillow for when you slept or a cushion for moments like this when you tried to remain sitting up. But the fabric was thin & did little to block out the discomfort.

            You were eyeing the rest of the food on your plate, some stale bread & diced potatoes, contemplating eating the rest, when you suddenly heard a door slam in the distance followed by yelling. You knew that yell anywhere, & it was growing closer.

            Immediately you went into defensive position, standing up & bracing yourself against the wall. There was little you could do to defend yourself, that much you knew, but you’d be damned if you didn’t put up a fight.

            “_____!” Rafe yelled, his voice thick with fury.

            A second later the door to your room slammed open, having been kicked in by Rafe. He stormed inside, his eyes set directly on you. He stomped towards you & when he made to grab you by the shoulders, you sunk against the wall, using your feet to kick at his shins. Rafe groaned in pain but still managed to get a fistful of your hair, yanking you upwards.

            He then slammed your against the brick wall, his hands around your throat, “Where the fuck is he?!”

            You couldn’t help the cat-got-the-milk smile that appeared on your face at his question, despite the fact that he was constricting your air. They hadn’t found him. Bear had gotten away. And it would stay that way if you could help it.

            “Where is he, you fucking bitch?!” Rafe yelled against, spats of his spit marking your face. But you only returned it with a smile.

            “I’ll never tell you.” You strained, your voice hoarse from his grip.

            “Ahh!” He screamed again, shoving you against the wall once. Your body dropped to the follow immediately, air rushing to your lungs. You rubbed at your neck, ebbing the pain away, but it was short-lived as Rafe stepped to the side. It was only then that you noticed Micah standing behind him in the doorway.

            “Do it.” Rafe demanded, staring hard eyed at you.

            Your eyes flashed from his to Micah as Micah approached you with a proud grin on his face.

            Micah kneeled beside you, a drill in his hand as he brought it up to where your chains were hooked into the wall. As he reversed the drill, loosening your chains, your eyes went from Micah back to Rafe. What did they have planned? A second later, Micah yanked on your arm harshly, forcing you to stand up.

            “What are you doing?” You questioned, panic settling into your bones. You knew Rafe & Micah were evil in the flesh, but you had yet to see it for yourself. Now, you would be experiencing it firsthand.

            Neither of them said a word as they shoved you out of the room. Micah held onto your chains to ensure you wouldn’t run off, but even if you had chosen to, Rafe had a firm grip on the back of your neck as he practically dragged you down the hallway. Your feet tripped over one another as you attempted to keep up with their fast pace, & it didn’t help that Micah would intentionally yank on the chain to trip you up. You flashed him a glare over your shoulder. He returned it with a devilish smirk.

            They eventually led you to the mess hall. You were disturbed to find everyone there. Waiting. Kai had his head hung low, like he couldn’t fathom the sight before him, but everyone else looked like hyenas ready for the kill.

            “Notice anyone missing?” Micah asked you in a hushed voice.

            You didn’t respond but did take a double look. But you knew all the faces present.

            Before you could think on what Micah was asking, Rafe forced you against one of the support beams in the center of the room. You were forced to turn your head to prevent your face from getting smashed against the wood as Rafe held you front-facing against it. You tried to see what Micah was doing as he kneeled down yet again. The sound of the drill filled the spacious room & you began to feel the chains around your ankles grow taught again. Then Adrianna stepped forward with another set of chains. She avoided your eyes.

            A shocked yelp escaped you when you felt the cold, pinching grip of the chains as they were suddenly around your wrists on the other side of the post. At this point, you were better able to see as Micah tugged on the chains around your wrists until you hissed as he secured the other end of them on a post a few feet away from you.

            “What the fuck are you doing?” Your voice shook with fear.

            “You killed people.” Rafe voiced behind you, “The masses are angry. They want punishment.”

            He circled around until you could see him, “And I do, too.”

            “Killed? I didn’t kill anyone.” You rushed out, your eyes flashing around the faces yet again. But everyone was there! And they couldn’t be referring to Bear…

            “Then where’s Matt? Robbie?” Micah sneered as he secured the chains & approached you & Rafe.

            What? You glanced around again, only then realizing that those two were indeed missing. But I didn’t…

            “When Bear exploded my truck,” Rafe started, his eyes holding yours, “Matt & Robbie were the collateral. Dumbasses were having a couple beers in the cab, too drunk to notice that Bear stuck a rag into the neck of the gas tank & lit it.”

            “Boom.” Micah’s face hardened as he made an explosion with his hand.

            You shook your head but a light chuckle revealed your true thoughts, “Good.”

            Micah growled, taking a step towards you, but Rafe stopped him.

            “Get a knife.”

            Knife?

            You watched with wide eyes as Micah grabbed a knife from the nearby makeshift kitchen & brought it to Rafe.

            “You’re gonna tell us where Bear is, _____.” Rafe said from behind you, a pleased lilt in his tone. “Whether you want to or not.”

            “Fuck you.” You muttered. The neck of your shirt was suddenly pulled tight against your neck but was quickly released at the sound of fabric tearing. Goosebumps erupted over your skin as the back of your shirt was torn in two then effectively ripped away from your body. You were standing in only your bra & pants.

            “We’ll get to that later.” Rafe replied low enough for only you to hear. Your stomach flipped.

            Your bra snapped loose next as Rafe cut through the band. You lowered your arms as much as possible to keep from your breasts being exposed to the others. It was the only moment you were grateful to be pressed against the post to hide your nudity. You felt humiliated, but it was short-lived when Micah appeared in your line of sight with a switch from a tree.

            “Micah.” Rafe gestured for him to stand behind you & Micah was happy to follow his orders. They switched placed & it was then Rafe who stood looking you in the eyes. Unlike Micah, he didn’t have a smile on his face. He continued to carry the rage across his features.

            “This is for Matt & Robbie.”

            Before you could brace yourself, the sound of the switch whipping through the air met your ears just as the thin, offensive object made contact with your back. You cried out, your teeth gritted against one another.

            “Again.” Rafe demanded as he stood with his arms crossed against his chest, his eyes never leaving your face.

            Thwack!

            You cried out loud again, your fingers tugging against the chains around your wrist in an attempt to get away from the assault.

            “Again!” Rafe hollered.

            Micah whipped you again. Tears blanketed your vision as the pain alongside your back spiked & stung with every hit.

            “More!”

            “Harder!”

            “Again!”

            It kept coming, never stopping. Your cries eventually died out as you felt your body go numb. The scent of blood filled your nose & you winced. Micah never let up once, never lessened his strength with the switch. He hit you on the center of your back with pristine placement, ensuring that you wouldn’t be able to lie down or lie against anything for days.

            Micah whipped you once more when Rafe finally raised his hand for him to stop. At this point, you were practically on your knees, your chest heaving, cheeks wet from the tears you unwillingly cried, your shoulders straining from the angle they were positioned at above your head. You felt dizzy, tired, sick, deathly. But you reminded yourself over & over again… as long as Bear got away.

            Rafe kneeled before you then, feigned concern on his face, “Now, where is Bear going?”

            Your lips were cracked & dry as you rested there trying to catch your breath. But you licked you lips to soften the word you knew would only provide you more pain, “Never.”

            Rafe’s eyes fluttered closed as his anger heightened, “Your choice.”

            He then backed away & nodded at Micah who still stood behind you. Micah circled around to the front of you, handing Rafe the switch. You didn’t miss how it was covered in blood, your blood, that dripped onto the floor. A surprised yelp left your already parted lips as you felt Micah yank on your right pointer finger.

            “Ahh!” You screamed in ungodly pain as Micah snapped your finger back, breaking it.

            “Where is he, _____?!”

            “No, please!” You hollered, desperate to escape the torture.

            Micah broke your middle finger.

            “We’ll go until we break every single fucking bone. Tell me where he’s going!”

            “I don’t know!” You lied, spit collecting on your chin as you screamed in pain.

            Your ring finger was next.

            Tears coated your cheeks again as your hand throbbed in pain, the crisp, stiff pain of your back forgotten with the new assault.

            Give them something! You yelled to yourself, Anything! Make it believable! You have to survive, _____. You have to. Desperately, you thought of a way out, a lie convincing enough to get you, & Bear, out of the shit you found yourself in. The map in the office flashed in your mind. Rockingham was south of Asheboro. But another town, one closer, one in the opposite direction, appeared in your memory as you stared at the map in your minds eye.

            Micah snatched your pinkie finger, waiting for Rafe to give the nod, but you lowered your head, blubbering out, “Greensboro.”

            Rafe held out his hand, halting Micah. He stepped towards you, lowering himself to hear you better, “What was that?”

            You swallowed, wincing as your three fingers ached, “He’s going to Greensboro.”

            Rafe narrowed his eyes at you, “Why?”

            You shook your head, biting your lower lip as you put on the performance of your life, “Please, Rafe, just let him go.”

            “Why?” He repeated again, his voice firm.

            “There’s others.” Your voice shuddered as you felt bile rise in your throat.

            “What are you talking about?”

            You finally looked at him, your vision blurry but you could make him out enough as you glared at him, “I heard others on the radio… they’re in Greensboro.”

            He just stared at you, a displeased sigh leaving him, “You kept it from me…”

            Crying, you nodded, “I’m sorry.”

            Rafe smiled but it wasn’t soft, wasn’t kind. He finally looked at Micah, “Take her back to the room.”

            “What?” Micah stood up, his rage matching Rafe’s, “That’s it? She could be fucking lying!”

            Rafe stood with him, glaring him down, “Take her back to the room. Now.”

            It was clear Micah wanted to argue but didn’t. He let go of your pulsating hand, turning his back on Rafe as he stomped through the others who witnessed the torturous assault, “Take her back yourself.”

            Rafe sighed heavily, but didn’t stop him. He then looked to Adrianna, “Take her back, Anna. And fix her up.”

            Adrianna nodded. She was quick to undo Micah’s mechanics of hooking you up to the post. Your body collapsed against hers as she held you up. You held your hand to your chest, too fearful to look at it, knowing that if you did you’d throw up right then & there. The others dispersed & Rafe followed after Micah.

            As Adrianna led you back to your room, you smiled internally to yourself. Let them chase a ghost. As long as Bear got away.

            It was late when you heard the door to your room crank & groan open. You wiped the sleep from your eyes with your unharmed hand as you struggled to sit up. Adrianna had been decent enough to remove the chains from your wrists & ankles entirely. You were no threat as broken & beaten down you were. The flimsy mattress was the only source of comfort you had as you lied on it on your front, sure to keep your right hand out of your own way.

            Adrianna had snapped your fingers back into place, which was just as painful as when Micah broke them, before making splints for them & wrapping them in a cast. She then cleaned & disinfected your back, informing you that you would only be able to wear loose fitting clothes & no bras until the marks healed. You didn’t thank her. Couldn’t. She was just as bad as the rest of them. Then she left you & you finally fell into a deep sleep.

            But you were rudely awoken at the presence of another as they snuck into your room, waking you.

            It was dark in the room, & as exhausted as you were, you were unable to make out just who it was that was in there. You worried that it was Micah, having come to finish the job, but your fears were snuffed out as the sound of a lighter flicking cast a dim glow against the face who held a cigarette in between their lips.

            Rafe.

            You stared up at him from below your lashes, your back too sore to move in a more defensive position.

            “What do you want?” You whispered angrily.

            Rafe exhaled, the smoke filling the air around him. He slowly approached before kneeling down before you. He took another drag, his eyes never leaving yours before removing the nicotine stick from his lips, holding it out to you. Your eyes fell to the burning cigarette, glaring at it before meeting his eyes again.

            “No?” He raised a single brow. When you said nothing in response, he returned the cigarette to his lips before reaching into the pocket of his jeans. The sound of familiar sound of plastic rustling reached your eyes. He then produced a little baggie filled with white powder. You couldn’t help the sharp inhalation you made at the sight of the coke. How did he still have some?

            “I’m no doctor but this will help with the pain.” He dangled the baggie before you.

            Your regrettable desire for the drug coursed through you.

            “What. Do. You. Want?” You repeated, trying to ignore the baggie.

            “I wanted to see you. See how you were doing.”

            You scoffed at that, shaking your head, “Terribly, no thanks to you.”

            “It was all Micah.” Rafe grinned nonchalantly.

            “So much for never letting him hurt me, huh?” You bit back.

            “You hurt me first.” He countered, his eyes darkening in the already dark room.

            Hot, angry tears kissed your eyes as you glared at him through the darkness, “No. You hurt me first. Didn’t you?”

            There was no need to further explain. He knew exactly what you were referring to. The only aspect about your pain & discomfort that helped you see clearly was that Rafe was a liar like you assumed him to be. He revealed as such right before Bear’s explosion. You still heard it clear as day. Nothing I haven’t done already. He said it that night, right before he was going to force himself on you.

            Rafe chuckled darkly, dropping the baggie of coke onto your mattress before you. He took another drag from the cigarette, narrowing his eyes towards you, “What do you want me to say? That I raped you? Fine. I raped you.”

            His admittance, as much needed as it was, only made you feel sicker.

            Tears skipped down your cheeks, “Why?”

            He exhaled a cloud of smoke, licking his lips, “Because I wanted to.”

            You shook your head. Your back ached as you moved away from him, scared of him.

            “How many times?” You asked, & you weren’t sure why you were asking. You had the answer you wanted. The truth. So why did you keep asking for details that would only hurt you more?

            Rafe hummed quietly to himself but his eyes never left yours, “Once.”

            “In the woods.” It wasn’t a question, but Rafe shook his head, grinning. Then he laughed lightly, “No, no. That time you were into it.”

            “What?” You furrowed your brows, “Quit lying!”

            “I’m not.” Rafe responded smoothly, “I’ve no reason to lie anymore. You see me for the monster I am. Why would I lie?”

            He was right, but he couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. You blinked your tears away, shaking your head, “No. I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

            “But you did.” Rafe made a knowing face, like he was reprimanding a child, reminding them of their faults, “You were high. You were grieving. And I was there for you.”

            “And,” He moved closer, his hand gently grazing the top of your unharmed hand, “you were there for me.”

            You ripped your hand away from him, snarling out, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

            Rafe’s face went dead then, his eyes flashing to yours. He dropped the cigarette, stomping it out.

            “I’m gonna do whatever the fuck I want.”

            Before you could respond, or put up a pitiful fight, Rafe backhanded you. You slumped to the side. A shot of pain shooting up your arm as you attempted to catch yourself on both hands. Rafe was then quick to shove you face down onto the mattress.

            “No!” You screamed, pathetically reaching back with your unbroken hand in an attempt to stop him as he climbed on top of you.

            “I am so sick of your bullshit, _____.” Rafe growled as you felt him reach under your long & loose t-shirt to tear your underwear down your legs.

            “Sick of protecting you, consoling you, wanting you.” The roughness of his denim pressed against the backs of your thighs as he shimmied them down his own.

            “But I can’t stop.” His breath brushed against your ear as you felt him prodding for your entrance, “I can’t stop doing all of those things because I need you. More than you’ll ever know.”

            You cried out when you felt him tear into you, your walls dry & unwelcoming. You didn’t care anymore about your hand, your back, your trauma, your loss, your shit hand of cards you’d been dealt at the end of the world. You just wanted him off you. Away from you forever.

            “Rafe, no!” You screamed again, thrashing wildly underneath him.

            He was quick to reach around & slap a hand over your mouth as he began to rut into you, his other hand keeping your flailing wrists secured against the center of your lower back.

            “Just shut up.” He groaned pleasantly as he forced your thighs more apart so he could fuck you deeper. “Shut up & take it like the fucking whore you are.”

            Rafe’s whore. That’s what the others referred to you as. Did they know he did this to you? Would they think that then? It didn’t matter. You felt it. You felt like a used & abused filthy whore. Just like how he wanted you.

            “Ah, god.” He moaned, pressing his chest into your stinging back as he rested against you. “I fucking love you.”

            You cried into the palm of his hand, spit collecting there as you tried to ignore the pain he was causing in between your legs.

            “I love you, _____.” He kissed the shell of your ear as he fucked you mercilessly.

            “Stop, please.” But your words were muffled behind his hand.

            A growl sounded from the deepest depths of his chest, reverberating against your back as his movement began to grow choppy. The walls of your cunt were throbbing as you felt his cock begin to swell, stretching you more than he already had.

            Rafe let out a guttural groan as he came, his hips slamming into you as he filled you with his seed. You had stopped crying at this point & were just lying there as he slowly thrusted into you. Rafe removed his hand from your mouth & you felt your head drop onto the mattress, your eyes staring blankly ahead.

            “In time,” he began but his voice sounded far away, “you’ll learn to love me, too.”

            In the corner of your eye, you watched as he pulled out of you, using your underwear to wipe himself clean. He pulled his jeans back up his thighs, fastening them as he pulled another cigarette from his pocket. He lit it, took a drag, then brought it to your lips.

            “Inhale.”

            Numbingly, you closed your dry lips around the filter & inhaled, the smoke filling your lungs. You released it & Rafe smiled, resting his hand on your head like he was proud of you.

            “Good girl.”

            With that, Rafe tucked your hair behind your ear so he could look you in the eyes, but you only stared right through him.

            “Get some rest. We got a long day tomorrow. We’re going to Greensboro. Gonna track down Bear, & you better hope we find him. Or else…”

            Rafe cocked his head, “Well, guess you’ll just see.”

            He said nothing more as he left your room, the lit cigarette on the ground next to the mattress. You watched mindlessly as the cherry of the cigarette burned the length of the stick until it finally died.

            Bear got away. It would stay that way. But you wouldn’t remain here for Rafe & Micah to torture as they pleased. You would get away, too. If it was quite literally the last thing you did, you would get out. You would run & you’d never stop running. And if Rafe caught up to you, you promised yourself then & there, that you would end your own life before it was back in his hands. Because this was a new world. It was eat or be eaten. And you’d rather Rafe starve then devour you himself. You promised it. You swore it.

            If Rafe found you again, it would be your corpse.

another heavy chapter but shit is about to get wild. so prepare yourselves.

as always, please share your thoughts/feelings w me via commenting, reblogging w reviews, or dropping an ask. they keep me going & put a smile on my face.

thank you for reading!

beau<3

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#dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!fic #dark!fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #non con fic #dark!outer banks #rise chapter sixteen

[cybersteal]

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕨: 𝕍𝕚𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕪

Tagged by @dreamskug and subsequently ripped off inspired by his, @lokiina’s, @nightcityace’s & @arcandoria’s creative take on it.

V: Hey, sorry I’m- Interviewer: Late? V: Only by thirty minutes, can't be that big of a deal. Interviewer: Maybe it is-

V: Okay, well, I'm here now, on a Friday night, instead of drinking myself stupid like I wish I was. Go ahead and ask your questions.

ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇ:

V: V. Interviewer: That’s it? V: Yup.

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ:

V: Male.

ꜱᴛᴀʀ ꜱɪɢɴ:

ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ:

V: Six feet. Interviewer: Actually? V: Does this look like a face that would lie to you?

ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:

V: You first. Interviewer: Excuse me? V: Hah! Relax, choom, just trying to lighten the mood! Jeez. I’m Pan. Equal opportunity for all. Mostly me.

ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ / ᴇᴛʜɴɪᴄɪᴛʏ:

V: I was born in SoCal, but my parents are both from Mexico. I have a…complicated relationship with my Latino heritage, since it wasn’t really somethin’ that my parents took the time to share with me in detail, or my siblings. Never had the chance to ask why, but after comin’ to Night City, I realized I kinda missed out on a lot growing up.

ᴅᴏɢ ᴏʀ ᴄᴀᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ:

V: Well, I have a cat at home. One of those hairless ones. But I did always want a dog. Interviewer: Oh? What kind? V: Xoloitzcuintli.

ꜰᴀᴠᴇ ꜰʀᴜɪᴛ, ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ, ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀ, ꜱᴄᴇɴᴛ:

V: Whoa, whoa, slow down, Jesus. Uhh…first one was-? Interviewer: Fruit. V: Right. I like grapes. The purple ones. Interviewer: Why purple? V: Shit, I dunno. They taste better? Interviewer: Heh. Yeah, fair enough. Season? V: I love summer. Life slows down a little, people take more time to relax. I don’t mind the heat, neither, ‘cause I can just go for a swim whenever, or go for a drive with the windows down. Cools me just fine. Interviewer: Preem. V: I like those orange poppy’s that grow all over the Badlands. California poppy’s I think they’re called.

Interviewer: And for your favorite scent? V: Right – probably amber. I've used the same brand of amber-heavy cologne for years. Oh, and I really like that one specific brand of tobacco my mom smoked. Interviewer: What brand was that? V: Can’t recall. Somethin’ imported.

ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ, ᴛᴇᴀ ᴏʀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇ:

V: Coffee. Double shot. Sometimes triple, if I’m doin’ a long gig. Interviewer: Christ. V: Hey, merc work ain’t easy. It’s that or synthcoke. Interviewer: I’m scared to ask the next question…

ᴀᴠᴇʀᴀɢᴇ ʜᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ:

V: Yikes…like 5? If I’m lucky. Interviewer: I’m not at all surprised. V: The fuck is that supposed to mean?

ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴀɴᴋᴇᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ:

V: No, no. Hold on. I wanna know why you’re not surprised. Do I got bags under my eyes or somethin’? Interviewer: Actually, no. V: Nova. Interviewer: You got suitcases.

V: You’re fine, choom. I appreciate the banter. I don’t need to sleep with any blankets though. Interviewer: Really? Why not?

V: Sub-dermal armor. Got a bunch of other stuff you can’t see as well – keeps me runnin' hot, all the time.

ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴛʀɪᴘ:

V: Aw, shit. There’s so many places. If I had to pick, I guess…Havana. Interviewer: Cuba. You into history? V: Nah, choom. Beaches.

ꜰᴀᴠᴇ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ:

V: Mad Max. Interviewer: You don’t think that’s a little…stereotypical? V: Does it look like I care? Me and my sister used to pretend we were members of the MFP and annoy the hell out of our brother. I called him nothin' but Toecutter for two years. He hated it.

ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ:

V: If you lick a person’s elbow when they’re not looking, they won’t feel it. Interviewer: …huh. Misty: Oh, V… V: It was the first thing that popped into my head, okay, I panicked-

This was a lot of fun to make tbqh. He's such a gonk - that ADHD brain keeps him moving around and fidgeting 24/7 even without the help of caffeine or stims and boosters, and he can talk about himself for hours, the narcissistic dickhead.

Shoutout to my bestest choombatta @klept0kid you deserve to have your name attached to your masterpiece lmao.

tags: @chooh2 @pinkyjulien @meltingangels @ouroboros-hideout @ne0n-rust @netripper @wilxfyre @klept0kid @glitchinginthegarden @nightcxty @shimmer-like-agirl @noirapocalypto @katsigian @wanderingaldecaldo @cyberpunkaddict @elvenbeard @wraithsoutlaws

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk v #cyberpunk photomode #oc: vice de'angelo #my screenshots #he zoomin! look at him go waow #i wish i had that much energy jfc #i am now dragging myself to bed because this took me (and klept0) all day #hopefully all my fuckin tags work this time or i will be very cross 😡

[le-panda-chocovore]

What do you think are Gojo and Geto’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic?

Until now, have you found any couple (canon or non canon) from any media (books, tv series, movies, anime/manga, etc) that the dynamics remind you of Gojo/Geto?

Thanks if you want to answer....

(I forgot this ask in my drafts sorry)

Asking me to ramble about my hyperfixation when I'm too tired to write in correct English is cruelty actually /j

I think their strengths are mostly the same as their weaknesses. (It's only my take on them, everyone has a different opinion)

Geto's empathic, he understands people, he likes helping, giving advice, protecting, and caring ; he makes a point to ensure that everyone around him is fine and safe. He's strong so he can bear with painful tasks, he knows he can, so he doesn't complain about it. He has a great sense of morals and responsibilities. It's all amazing qualities, until it became too much. He was caring too much, worrying too much, enduring too much, and he drowned under the weight of everything he fought so hard for. His morals contradicted his will to help people and he had to make a choice. He loved people so much he couldn't bear to see his friends die, so he sacrificed the entire world to protect them. I think his greatest weakness is that he loved his close ones more than he loved himself, so he didn't even think about asking for help because he didn't believe people would care about him as much as he cared about them.

Geto, like everyone else, would say that Gojo is selfish, which is ironic because Geto is the one who kept everything to himself and didn't let people worry about him. He tried to fix himself alone, then decided he didn't need to be fixed.

Gojo's selfish, egocentric, forgetful, defiant, and is very much in love with his best friend. Those are weaknesses, to be clear. He's also kinda naive, because he believes things will be fine no matter what, but this is just another side of his arrogance. He hates authority figures but he needs to be told what to do because he is not able to regulate himself. He needs someone to draw a line for him, but he cannot express the importance that person has because he doesn't think it matters. Not that he doesn't believe they'd care but because he thinks they already know. (They don't- again, it's because of his arrogance). He doesn't realize nor understand how other people feel, but that doesn't stop him from reacting accordingly. Because he knows what it's like to suffer, to be lost, to be betrayed, to be lonely. He is not empathic, he doesn't feel what people are feeling, but he was so self-centered that he lost the person he loved the most, and now that he knows the pain he can project his own emotions on others. He's selfish and egocentric, so he saw people he could take care of and decided it'd be his responsibility to ensure they'd grow up happily. He doesn't care what the higher-ups think, he will do whatever pleases him. He also doesn't care what those people he takes care of are thinking, he forces himself into their lives because he truly believes he can make it better -and he does. (arrogance, the good side).

Gojo is arrogant and strong, he thinks he can change the world and deal with the consequences. He knows he can fight anything, so he doesn't actually worry about threats, even though it sometimes hurt his students. He proposes a status quo because he knows no one can fight him. He manages to keep Yuuta and Yuuji and Megumi safe by pure defiance.

Also it's canon that Gojo's mortal weakness is Geto himself.

What I love about them is perhaps the metaphors, the parallels, and the co-dependency. They're literally soulmates, they're a perfect match, they value each other so much it's overwhelming. They're also dumbasses and I love that kind of ship. They're handsome and pretty and gorgeous. They're smart and stupid at the same time. They're so in love that 9 years apart weren't enough to kill that. They're both little shit but one knows how to pretend to be nice. Literally EVERYTHING Gojo does as an adult is because of the influence Geto had in his life. They know each other so deeply that a simple glance is enough to recognize the other. Geto's body broke through Kenny's control because Gojo was in danger and it was the FIRST TIME it happened in CENTURIES. Hell, what is there NOT to love about them ??

Anyway. They make me think about Orpheus and Eurydice from the Greek mythology (He looked back. He knew she shouldn't, but he looked back because he loved him). I recently read a post that compared them to Achilles and Patroclus and I was like, oh, yeah, that could work. Also, they kinda have a vibe of Steve and Bucky from MARVEL. Like, childhood friends who liked messing around together until one got lost and followed a dark path while the other had to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders and was so praised and admired that he wasn't allowed to have a life by himself. Years and years later they met again and memories came back and the world fell apart. They're enemies know, opposite sides, there's only one way to stop the other. But. But they still love each other. (I'm going to make myself cry)

I could write so much more but I'm going to stop here because I have the feeling that I'm already annoying lmaooo

#analysis #stsg #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu #sugusato #jjk #answering ask #answering asks #jujutsu kaisen #character analysis #anon ask #gego #goge

[melanieph321]

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS 2.0

(DAY 1)

Why has no one introduced me to this maaaaan!

The request got lost in my inbox but all it read was "Joško Gvardiol"

Thank God for anon 😭🙏

Joško Gvardiol x Reader - Talk Me Through It

18+

Where Joško likes it rough but has to introduce Reader to his ways.

Enjoy!

It was a date night full of laughs and giggles. Your relationship with Joško was relatively new. The two of you were still getting to know each other. He had treated you to a lovely dinner and a movie and insisted on driving you home at the end of the night.

"Hold up." Joško said, as he took his car off the highway. "I just need to stop for petrol."

"Oh, can I pump it!" You uttered excitedly, bouncing up and down in the passenger seat.

"Pump what?"

"The gas, of course."

"I guess..." He chuckled, with an expression that revealed his suprise. "But take my card." He said, reaching for his wallet.

Pulling into the self managed gas station, Joško handed you his credit card as you hopped out of his car. He rolled down the window to the drivers seat as you rounded the vehicle. "Don't forget, Petrol, not Diesel."

"Yes daddy." You joked, although a spark lit up in his eyes.

The concrete beneath you made your steps uneven wearing high heels. You grabbed the petrol pump and carefully made your way to the back of the car. You spread your legs wide, trying to maintain an even stance as you plugged the gas pump into the tank. You noticed how Joško was watching you from where he sat in the car. Your eyes met in the side view mirror. You gave him a smile and he returned it with a wink of his eye.

"There." You sighed and put the gas pump back on its hanger. You climbed back into the passenger seat and handed Joško back his credit card.

"All done?" He placed a hand on your thigh. Your dress cut way above your knees which caused goosebumps to grow with his touch.

"Jupp, all done." You squealed.

He pulled out of the gas station like that,  with one hand on the steering wheel, the other one on your thigh, stroking it up and down. Joško insisted on opening the door for you once his car pulled up to your apparment complex.

"A gentleman." You giggled.

He even offered you an arm as he escorted you up the stairs to your front door.

"I had a great night." He said, as you stood turned to each other, with your back against the door.

"You'll always have a good time with me baby, you should know that by now."

He grinned and grabbed your arms to wrap around his neck. "I like it when you call me that."

What, baby?" You smiled.

"That and other things."

"Other things?" You frowned. "What else have I been calling...?"

You gasped as you were brought forward. Joško's hands made their way up the back of your thighs, squeezing your ass. "Joško."

He hymned in response. His neck now burried in the crease of your neck, serenading it with filthy kisses.

"The neighbors." You whimpered as he gave your ass another squeeze, pressing you against what you could only assume to be his growing erection.

"Open the door." He grunted.

His grip of your ass loosened to allow you to turn around and reach for the key in your purse. However, his lips, still attached to your neck, made it hard for you to pinpoint where to insert it.

"I loved it when you called me daddy." He whispered, lips bracing your naked shoulder. "I want to hear you say it again."

You gasped as his hand made its way between your legs, his fingertips slipping between your panties.

"Joško, please."

"Nah." He chuckled, his laugher deep and rich. It was almost evil. "You know what I want you to call me "

You bit back another whimper. "Daddy please." You begged, to which Joško's free hand helped you insert the key into the lock. From there things escalated quickly. You had never seen him this way, so eager to have you.

"Take off your dress."

You stood in the door to your living room. Neither of you had gone to turn on the lights, but judging by how intense the moment felt, the task was of no importance.

You did what you had been told and stepped out of your dress, to which Joško grunted approvingly. His eyes traveled from your bouncong breast to the stringy patterns on your panties.

"Turn around."

You were compelled to do as you were told since the look on Joško eyes dared you not to defy him. Still you felt a need to issue some kind of consent by asking, "What are you going to do to me?"

You stood with your back to him. The sound of his approaching footsteps causing the floor below you to crack.

"Do you really want to know?"

A shiver ran down your spine as Joško lips braced your earlobe. There was a shift in your stance, feeling how his full-fledged erection pocked you in the ass. "Yes." You whispered, although your voice trembled. "You need to tell me."

His laughter vibrated against your back. "Fair enough."

You were nudged to take a step forward, towards your couch. You paused once your legs hit its armrests and Joško's hand came up behind you, resting on the flat of your belly.

"I'm gonna make you bend over for me and watch you play with your pussy until it's dripping wet."

You swallowed a rock. But was determined to have him recite the full turn of events before he even thought to have his way with you. "And then?"

"And then...." He said, voice hoarse. "Then I'm gonna push your panties to the side and circle my dick around your entrance, at least until you beg me to put it in."

"And then..."

"And then..." He chuckled. "I'm going to fuck you until you scream my name. "

Your lips parted, with the ghost of your breath.

"But I won't stop there."

"No?"

"No."

"Why not?"

You sensed his urgencey, perhaps your questions teased him in ways he hadn't anticipated. His hand on your belly was slowly moving downwards, into the pocket of your panties. Your head fell back against his shoulder, his fingertips making small circle around your already swollen clit.

"Why not?" He groand. "Don't you trust me baby?"

"I do." You stammered. "I just don't like surprises."

His lips against yours cheek were gentle, soft kisses tracing the length of your neck. "I won't stop until you call me daddy again."

And there it was, you thought. As faint as his words had been, they were to your assurance, assurance that you were in control of the situation, the safe word being, daddy.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Joško mouth left your neck, lifting your head from his shoulders. You turned around to face him, nodding in approval.  "You may bend me over."

His grin was unobtainable. He leaned down to kiss you, his scruffy beard tickling your face. "Don't worry, baby. I'll talk you through it."

He turned you around, bending you over like he said he would. You faithfully followed the next step, placing your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit.

"Good girl."

You heard the unbuckling of his belt, followed by his pants that slid down his legs and onto the floor. He then spoke through a clenched jaw. "Are you ready for me, baby?"

"I don't know, you tell me?"

He chuckled, but did not hesitate to align himself behind you, the tip of his cock circling your wet entrance.

"Fuck, already so wet for me."

You placed your hands in front of you, flat against the cuchens of the couch. Your eyes squinted shut, anticipating the first thrust. However, it never came.

"I won't do anything until you tell me that you're ready for me."

"I'm ready." You nodded and barely uttered the words before your stomach was pushed down against the armrest. Joško was relentless, showing into you like a madman. You loved it.

"Yes, more." You begged.

"Are you sure you can take it?"

"No. But do it anyways."

It was electric, simply electric. Joško had you bent over before him, legs spread wide with your panties pushed to the side.

"At the gas station...." He grunted, with no intention of stop pushing in and out of you. "I imagined fucking you like this whilst you were pumping gas into my car."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes. You looked so fucking hot. And when you called me daddy..."

"Yeah?"

His thrust were getting sloppier, his cock slipping out of your entrance ones, then twice.

"Fuck, you feel so good."

"Daddy?"

All movement stopped as Joško's body went stiff. You didn't even have to shout.

"You okay?" He worried.

"Yes." You giggled, exploiting your control over him. "Don't stop, finish me off."

He laughed nervously. He laughed and then picked up where he left off. Fucking you with a newfound strength that shot right through your arching spin. He had you coming over the edge with a moan of his name. His orgasm followed right after with the two of you falling back against the couch, embracing each other in the dark. Skin against skin. Lips against lips.

#fanfiction #football imagine #man city #manchester city #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football angst #seven days of requests #josko gvardiol

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 8: ...Your Ivy Grows...

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy?

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, First Time Together, Cunnilingus, Missionary, Doggy Style, Tags Updated Per Chapter

Author's Note: this chapter is just smut. hope you all enjoy! also, this chapter marks the over half-way point of the series! thank you so much for the continued support! <3

aslo idk if anyone else has had this issue but when you reach 100 pages on a google doc grammar correct stops working? i literally have to break this story up into two docs lmao

Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay @nn-hh192

Chapter List

Even though Arthur pledged to take his time with you, you could tell that he was using every bit of restraint in him to keep from taking you right there. His fingers were tight on your thigh, tight enough to leave marks, yet you found that you couldn’t complain. How could you, when all you could say was his name as soft pants and moans?

His lips were unrelenting in their exploration of your neck and shoulders, like he was trying to memorize the shape of your body by just kissing it. One of your hands carded into his dusty brown hair, and if your mind wasn’t so overwhelmed with just the feeling of him, you would’ve marveled at how soft it still was. Yet all that came to your mind was how wonderful his lips felt, and how wonderful they would feel elsewhere. It made your head fall back again, barely noticing the impact of it against the wall, his hand no longer there to protect it. 

No, the hand that had once been so reverently holding you had shifted south, lightly brushing over the side of your body. He just skirted the outline of your breasts through your nightgown, where you wanted, needed him to touch you. You must’ve made some noise of complaint when he continued down, because you felt his smirk again, lips pulling against the delicate skin of your neck. That damn smirk, you could picture it now, and that mischievous glint in his cerulean eyes.

You thought you had gotten your wish when you felt him grab a thin strap of your nightgown with his teeth, slowly dragging it down your shoulder. Goosebumps erupted across the skin when you felt the drag of his beard, the dainty strap tickling your skin where it hung loosely. You expected him to slide the other one off, but when his kisses lingered on the newly exposed skin and his hands remained planted on the lower part of your body, you decided to do it instead, your patience from a few moments prior no longer existing.

With one hand still in his hair, you began to try to bring it down, but you were stopped before it could even budge an inch. Arthur had somehow been able to tell what you were doing, despite being fully enraptured with caressing your body, and had pinned your hand to the wall above you. His hand no longer held your thigh, but you still kept a leg hooked around his body, keeping him as close as you could. A started noise had left you, which turned into a light moan, his actions making you crave more. 

But even though he had stopped you, you weren’t going to give up that easily. “Arthur,” you whined out, giving him the best pleading eyes you could, hoping that he would take pity on you. “Undress me,” you uttered, for what you now realized to be the first time in your life; you’d never had the desire to do so before. 

Arthur paused for a moment before raising his head enough so that his lips were just hovering over yours. Yet no matter how much you strained, no matter how much you reached, you couldn’t connect them. “I did say I was takin’ my time with ya, did I not?”

Damn him and his unwavering resolve to torture you. “You did, but-”

His lips finally connecting with yours silenced you, your words trailing off into a mumble. He pulled away much too quickly for your liking, and you tried to voice your displeasure, but another short kiss stopped you. “I ain’t goin’ back on my word. I’ve waited so damn long to have you like this; I’m savorin’ ya for as long as I can.” 

If only he knew that you felt the exact opposite. He ghosted over your lips before landing at your jaw, right below his ear. His voice was low and husky right in your ear, and it was both the feeling and the words he spoke that left you shuddering. “Trust me when I say this ain’t endin’ without that beautiful body of yours completely uncovered.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment. “You ain’t ever seen my body,” you tried to deflect his words. 

“I ain’t gotta see it to know.” He bit at your earlobe. “Now, you gonna be patient?” His fingers gently squeezed the wrist he held above your body. 

Wordlessly, you nodded. As much as you would’ve loved to have him keep you restrained, the angle was starting to get uncomfortable. When he let go, you chose to rest it on his shoulder, and you could feel the way his muscles flexed as he moved again. Lips returned to your bare right shoulder, and they began to trail down your arm, all the way down to your fingers. It was a strange feeling, but you were loving it. Never before had someone treated your body so carefully, like you were the most precious thing they’ve ever held. 

But here Arthur was, kissing your skin like it was made of gold, like you were a gift sent down from the Gods. As much as you longed to hear those three words from his mouth, you certainly felt like he was showing you that he did indeed love you, just like you requested, and you felt your heart soar. 

After reaching your fingers, you felt him caress the kiss-adorned skin with a calloused hand, something like awe across his features. When you grew bashful under his gaze, your head turning away, you saw him look up out of the corner of your eye. “What?” He asked, coming out almost like a breathy laugh. “Look at me, darlin’.”

Swallowing, you forced your gaze back onto him, your face burning when he still had that same awestruck expression. “I won’t be able to if you keep lookin’ at me like that.”

Intrigued, he dragged his hand back up your arm, resting against the side of your neck. As much as you wanted to look away, you forced yourself to keep your attention on him. “Like what?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer. “Like you’re the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen? Like I’m the luckiest bastard, who damn well doesn’t deserve ya, someone as kind and breathtaking and good as you? Like I want to spend every moment with you, holdin’ you, touchin’ you, purely and utterly devoted to you?” 

Arthur shook his head, a small laugh leaving him. “Nah, I can’t stop lookin’ at you like that, darlin’. I refuse to stop lookin’ at you like that. So, you,” his hand was now cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing over your lips, “are just gonna have to accept it.”

You had no response to his words, drawing up a blank in your mind, and his touches certainly weren’t helping. God, you fucking loved him so much. 

When his mouth crashed into yours, you realized that you had said that out loud, but you didn’t care. Relief coursed through your body when you felt him finally tug the other strap down, a little more forceful than necessary. It was subtle, but the strings of his restraint had begun to fray. 

When he pulled away, you felt him begin a similar trail down your left arm, and you let yourself just get lost in the sensations. It differed when he got to your hand, your fingers more specifically. You heard his breath hitch, and you glanced down at him, confused. 

“You haven’t put it back on,” he muttered, and it took a few moments for you to realize that he was talking about your ring. You knew it was risky, keeping it off when Hans could be home at literally any time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to put it back on during the past couple of weeks.

“No,” you whispered, “because there’s only one person my heart belongs to, and it certainly ain’t the man who gave me that ring.”

An almost pained noise left Arthur, and you thought something was truly wrong until his eyes bore into yours. The once awestruck, loving look was now replaced with some more primal, more hungry, and you sucked in a gasp. His body was almost instantly pressed into yours, crowding you up against the wall. His mouth was attacking your neck, sucking and biting, leaving marks that would darken by morning. If you had any rational thought left in you, you would’ve made sure he kept his marks somewhere you could easily hide them, but you had none left.

“Say it again,” he groaned into your skin. 

“My heart is yours, Arthur.” You don’t think you’ve ever uttered truer words before. 

“Mine…” he breathed out, like he was trying to convince himself that it was true.

“I’m yours.”

 He moaned at that, his breath fanning across your skin. “Mine,” he repeated with more certainty, unyielding still with his ministrations. 

You never thought that you would ever like anyone having a claim to you, even more so when you got married to Hans. But you realized that you didn’t mind because unlike the marriage it was mutual. Arthur was yours as much as you were his. 

“Yours.”

It seemed like that was the last thing you needed to say before his restraint snapped. 

You were startled when you felt the ground no longer beneath your foot that was still against the ground, Arthur picking you up with ease with two hands beneath your thighs. Your other leg joined in wrapping around his body, your hands grappling for purchase across the broad expanse of his shoulders. He wasted no time, heading straight up the staircase to where he knew your room to be. His footsteps were surprisingly quiet, and you realized that he still remembered your rule of no shoes in the house, and you somehow fell even more in love with him for heeding what you said, no matter how small or insignificant it was. 

It was hard to kiss him because of all the jostling of climbing upstairs, but you tried anyway. You almost immediately tore away when you accidentally bit down hard on his bottom lip from all the movement, but it quickly died in your throat at the somehow even hungrier look Arthur shot you. “Darlin’ we ain’t gonna make it to the bed if ya do things like that,” he spoke after his grip on you faltered slightly, but you were clinging on to him too tightly to really tell. 

“Is that a promise?” You teased.

Arthur barked out a small laugh at that, his eyes crinkling. “The stairs ain’t gonna be the most comfortable place, but if you insist…” He made a show of bending over slowly, trying to deposit you onto the wooden stairs. You immediately made a noise of protest, and Arthur straightened back up, laughing yet again. “Is that a no, then?”

“It’s a no. But maybe next time,” you giggled.

“Next time,” he echoed, and you could barely detect the small amount of disbelief in his voice. 

He had reached the top of the stairs now, passing the first door to Hans’ office. As you passed, a thought filled your mind that got your heart racing even more, biting back a moan. You pictured yourself laying back on the desk, Arthur’s face between your legs, your cries muffled with-

The familiar surroundings of your room tore you from your thoughts, and a shaky breath left you. You missed the look that Arthur gave you, fully aware of the kinds of images that had just flashed through your mind. But he didn’t say anything, merely tucking them away into his mind for a later day. Like you said, there was always a next time.

Arthur set you on the side of the bed, standing in between your legs, You had to strain your neck to look up at him, and you followed him as he sank to his knees before you. If it didn’t look like he was worshiping you earlier, it certainly looked like it now. Awe was back on his features, eye wide, letting out soft, pleased sighs as he took you in. Moonlight spilled in from behind you, casting you in a cool white light, your shadow cast over him. 

Even though there was a rug, you knew that how he was sitting was probably not the most comfortable, and you tried to usher him to the bed. Arthur just shook his head, pressing a grateful kiss to the back of your hand. “In a moment, darlin’,” he reassured.

You shivered when you felt his hands on your thighs, skirting up the sides of your body slowly, methodically. It seemed like the small walk had calmed him some, his interest in slowly driving you insane returning. Warm hands grazed the undersides of your breasts, before grazing against your perked nipples that poked through the thin material of the nightgown. It made you jolt, earning a low chuckle from the man.

You gasped when he did it again, your body pressing into his large hands. “Arthur,” you sighed out, and he hummed in response, engrossed in the way you reacted to him touching you. Every brush of his fingers, every gentle squeeze, shot another jolt through your body, arousal coiling in your lower body. 

Your body was growing incredibly warm, and even though the material of the gown was light, it still felt like you were wearing a winter jacket in the desert. But you didn’t make a move to take it off yourself. “Undress me?” You tried again, this time phrasing it like a question. 

“You sure, darlin’?”

You were touched by his consideration, but you were almost growing desperate at this point. “Please, Arthur.”

Arthur took a second to judge the validity of your response before a soft smile spread on his face. He toyed at the hem of your nightgown, which had ridden up to your upper thighs. “I suppose I can arrange that.” You were barely able to lift your hips before Arthur was tearing your nightgown off over your head, tossing it beside him. 

In just your undergarments, you watched as Arthur slowly took in your exposed body, the same look on his face that he had downstairs. “How did I get so damn lucky?” His hands joined in the exploration of your body, pulling out small noises from you. “My beautiful girl.”

His hands felt so much better when there wasn’t a barrier of fabric between them, you realized when he returned to your breasts. Despite the roughness of his skin, he was still gentle with his touches, and the juxtaposition made your head spin. It was hard to remember the fact that this was a rough, grizzled man, who had seen the worst the world had to offer, yet regarded you so carefully.

Your hand reacquainted itself with his hair when his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, his fingers playing with the other. Teeth grazed against the sensitive bud, making your hips jump from where you sat on the bed, a cry of his name leaving your lips. Fingers tightened in his hair, and Arthur groaned. His mouth was still pulling pleasure from your breasts, and the noise he made just added to the stimulation, the low timbre rolling through your body. 

After a few moments of lavishing your breasts with attention, he was descending even further, lips barely leaving your body, leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake. When he stopped right above the ribbon that held your undergarments, he brought his gaze up to you, a silent question in his eyes, a stifled gasp leaving you when you realized what he was asking for. You’d heard stories, tales of lovers going down on their partners, bringing them pleasure with their mouths. You’d always just shake your head, not believing that someone would want to do that; it was one-sided satisfaction, in your mind.  

But his gaze held nothing but pure want, like he needed to do this, craved it more than any fine liquor. It made you evaluate how one-sided the satisfaction might be. You hadn't realized you’d been silent for an extended period until Arthur’s voice pulled you from your mind. “Please, darlin’.” 

Oh, you liked that. Another gasp left you, this one less stifled than the previous, and you felt something throb between your legs. Arthur picked up on your reaction, realization making him grin, eager to see you squirm. “Please, lemme taste ya,” he pitched his voice even lower. “I wanna feel ya cum on my face, darlin’. I wanna feel you soak-”

He was cut off by a sharp pull on his hair, yanking his head back, your other hand covering his mouth. Your cheeks were blazing, embarrassed beyond belief, but you’d be a liar if you said his words weren’t doing something to you. Any more, though, and you would explode. “You have a dirty mouth, Arthur Morgan.” You prayed that your voice didn’t sound too airy. 

A light nip at your hand made you pull away, shooting a disingenuous glare at him. “You love it, darlin’.” 

How right he was. If his hands inched any further downward, he’d be able to feel the effect he was having on you. You rolled your eyes but didn’t offer any rebuttal. You felt him run his fingers beneath the ribbon, eliciting a shiver through your body. “Can I?” He asked, still waiting for your answer. 

You had just gotten out a quiet yes before a hand pushed you down to the bed, gentle yet commanding. Arthur spread your legs, groaning appreciatively at the sight before him. There wasn’t any shock on his features as he took in the darkened patch on your undergarments; he knew exactly what he did to you. He quickly undid the ribbon, then yanked the garment down your legs, letting it dangle precariously off one of your feet. 

Neither of you cared, Arthur especially, his eyes locked onto your glistening cunt. Holding the insides of your thighs, he kept your legs open, rubbing soothingly into the skin as he made his way closer. Anticipation made you shake, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, rising in pace when his breath ghosted over you. 

Both of you let out sighs when his mouth made contact, your body jumping at the foreign contact. Sensations you’d never felt before invaded your body, almost too many for you to keep track of. His beard prickled against the highly sensitive skin, a complete difference from the soft glide of his tongue through you. You barely even saw the way his eyes rolled back, completely taken in by the way you tasted. 

You whined out his name as he did it again, and his eyes glanced up at you between your legs. It was an even better sight than anything you could've ever imagined, and you couldn’t help the slight mortification when you realized you said it aloud. It was the second time that night something had spilled from you that you hadn’t wished to reveal, and you debated just covering your mouth so that it wouldn’t happen again. 

Even though you couldn’t see it, you just knew that he was smirking, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’ve thought of this before, darlin’?” He asked between passes of his tongue, pleasure building slowly in your core. But you could tell that he was very clearly avoiding your clit, his tongue always stopping or passing it, just to rile you up. And it was working. 

“Arthur,” you whined, but you knew at this point trying to plead with him was an uphill battle. 

“Have you thought of this before?” He asked again, and you realized that he wasn’t going to give what you wanted until you answered him. 

“Yes,” you admitted, and even though your response was hardly louder than a whisper, it felt like you shouted it to the world. Of course, you’d imagined Arthur like this before, and so much more. It wasn’t often, either during the one time Hans had been intimate with you recently or during the lonely weeks by yourself. You’d imagine him as you slip a hand between your legs, softer and smaller than Arthur’s, but you always tried to not dwell on that fact. 

He rewarded your response by finally making contact where you wanted him, a loud cry tumbling from your lips as he lapped at your clit. You fumbled at the bedsheets, trying to find something to grab onto that wasn’t his hair as he wracked your body with pleasure. “What’d ya think ‘bout?” His words were muffled, and it took you a few moments to form a coherent thought.

Apparently, you took too long, and you felt his attention move away from your clit, choosing to just pass around it instead. You loved and hated the way he was toying with you, leaving you a writhing mess beneath him. “I’ve- I’ve thought ‘bout this,” you vaguely gestured to where he was, and you sighed out when his tongue returned to the sensitive nerves. “I’ve thought ‘bout your fingers…” you had to take a moment, pleasure becoming overwhelming. “Imagined how they’d feel on me, in me…”

On cue, you felt his rough fingers brush against your folds, making you shudder. “I’ve thought ‘bout you bendin’ me over, takin’ me roughly, makin’ me scream.” You felt Arthur groan. But… but I also imagined you takin’ me gently, makin’ love to me, and I can’t… I can’t figure out which one I want more…” 

“We’ll just have to try both then, darlin’.”

You opened your mouth, ready to say more, but you stopped. “Anythin’ else?” You heard him ask, and you damned him for having such acute observation skills. 

“I’ve…” You couldn’t believe you were about to admit this to him. “Whenever he…” you didn’t even want to say his name, “you know, had me… I imagined it was you instead.”

You watched blue eyes widen. “You have?”

You couldn’t tell if he was disgusted by the fact, having gone still between your legs, but you were too nervous that you’d just royally fucked this all up to care. “I asked ya a question,” he muttered, pulling his head far enough away so you could see him better. Even still, you couldn’t read the expression on his face, and you ducked your head in shame. 

“I have,” you whispered out. 

“When?”

Of course, he had to ask that. That answer might put him off even more, but as you glanced back down at him, you found that you couldn’t without the truth. “Remember when you came over to the house for the first time? Durin’ the middle of the night?” You laughed bitterly. “I could barely look you in the eye, I felt so guilty.” And you still felt guilty, and it tore at your chest. “I’m sorry, Arthur-”

You tried to close your legs, his grip having gone lax, but as soon as he felt you move it was back. He yanked you closer to him, his mouth meeting you halfway, attacking your clit with precision. Short laps that had created a gradual and steady build of pleasure had been replaced for heavy, intense presses of his tongue, ruthless and unyielding. He was devouring you now, a complete switch up from the casual pace before, and you could do nothing but take it. 

He wasn’t talking now, too concentrated on making you finish to do so. His name spilled from your lips, and you desperately gripped at the bedsheets, hips bucking and writhing. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to approach, having been edged on for so long. “Arthur, I’m… please,” you begged him not to cut you off this time, and you could’ve cried in relief when he didn’t. 

With a loud final cry of his name that made you glad you lived in the middle of the woods, you came, your cunt clenching around nothing as waves of pleasure spasmed your body. The grip on the sheets turned vice-like as every nerve in your body was set alight, white-hot pleasure taking over all your senses. Arthur continued to pleasure you, the noises growing obscene, and you eventually had to pull him away, as it became too much. 

His wish had certainly been fulfilled, his lower face and beard soaked with your release. His eyes were impossibly dark, panting wildly, and he almost looked animalistic. Slowly, you watched as he lowered one last time, eyes never leaving yours as he kissed your clit, a jolt of overstimulation hitting you at the contact. 

Arthur stood now, hands bracing on either side of your hips as he stood. The first thing you noticed, besides his disheveled expression, was the substantial tent in the front of his pants, his cock straining against the denim. On shaky knees, you sat up, your arms bracing for support on his broad chest. Two arms wrapped around your body, hands resting on your back, keeping you pressed close to him. Leaning down, he kissed you, and you groaned when his tongue pressed into your mouth, tasting your release on him. 

But you couldn’t ignore the way he pressed into you, and you managed to sneak a hand between your bodies, fingers running gently over him. He tore away from the kiss then, an airy noise that almost sounded like a chuckle leaving him. Smiling sweetly at him, you retracted your hand, only to start unbuttoning his shirt with thinly veiled desperation. Your hands were still shaking, which just made getting the little buttons undone an almost impossible task.

You felt him wrap his hands around your wrist, halting you. Gentle kisses were pressed against your hands before he set them beside you. His less-shaky hands quickly unbuttoned his shirt, your eyes greedily taking him in as the first bare expanse of his chest was exposed to you. As his shirt hit the ground, the sound it made barely covered up the noise you made when his upper half was exposed to you for the first time. 

You knew he was a large man, but seeing him bare made the fact clear. Another fact that you quickly came to realize was that he was the most stunning man you’ve ever had the privilege to see. It had long been clear that he was a beautiful man, but you were quite literally staring at him with an open mouth, your heart feeling like it was going to burst out of your chest. 

Scars littered his body, the most substantial one being on his shoulder. It looked like a freshly healed gunshot wound, which made your heart lurch. Smaller scars trailed down his body, mostly straight lines and a few jagged edges. A dusting of wiry, brown hair covered his entire body, and you didn’t bother to resist the urge to run your hands through it. It was softer than you expected, and you let your hands roam freely, loving the way that Arthur seemed to purr under your touch. It turned into a groan when you brushed over his nipples, finding pleasure in teasing him the way he had done to you. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Arthur,” you cooed out, nails scratching lightly over his skin. It was his turn to shudder, to be turned to jelly because of your actions. Your name left his lips as a whine, and you couldn’t deny how incredible it made you feel. His abdominal muscles jumped when your fingers ghosted over them, his breath catching when you began to tug at his gunbelt. “Take this off?” You asked, resting your chin against his chest and looking up at him. “Please?”

He had already started taking it off as soon as you asked, but you knew that he’d love hearing the added please. And he did, his eyes rolling back as he groaned. It didn’t take long before he was setting the belt down on the ground, being gentle to not cause a misfire of the weapon. 

He was less considerate with his regular belt, the accessory hitting the ground with a large clattering noise that made you jump. You grinned when you heard the sound of a zipper, and you worked your own hands down to help him ease off his pants, underwear included, down enough to free him. A hiss left his mouth as his cock was exposed to the air, and you dared to look down. 

Even with the lack of light, you could tell that he was quite well-endowed. When you took him in hand, you were almost startled to find that you couldn’t wrap your hand around him, but pure desire blocked out those thoughts. You didn’t care if it hurt, you needed him now. 

You stroked him a few times, pants of air escaping his lips, and his hips jolted when your thumb brushed over his tip. Precum coated the digit, and you brought it to your mouth. You made a show of cleaning it off, tongue running over the length of it before taking it into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, you groaned in approval as the salty tang hit your tastebuds. 

Removing it from your mouth with a pop, you sat back on your heels, helping to work his garments down his thighs, before letting it drop and pool at his feet. As he kicked it away, you let your eyes roam unabashedly, finally having a perfect view of his thick legs, also adorned with a light covering of hair. Backing up further on the bed and adjusting so that your head lay against pillows, you raised an amused brow when Arthur just stood there, eyes also roaming your body shamelessly. 

“Are you just gonna stand there all night?” You teased. 

“If you want me to.” There was an honesty to his words that had you melting, but you just rolled your eyes instead. 

“C’mere,” you laughed, holding out a hand. He took it, letting you pull him onto the bed. He was on top of you in seconds, lips attaching to your neck again, a hand running down your body. Your own hands were all over him, every new piece of skin becoming familiar. You could feel his cock brush against your stomach as he leaned above you, leaking onto your skin.

As much as you loved his attention, you were so close to getting what you wanted that you couldn’t wait any longer. “Arthur,” you gasped out, “I need you.”

“You have me, darlin’. It’s just… you sure you’re ready?” You expected to find a hint of arrogance in his voice, but you found none, just genuine concern. 

“I’m ready.”

Arthur brushed his lips over yours, then rested his forehead against yours. That awestruck, almost disbelieving look was back as he situated himself between your legs. Before he could, you snuck a hand down, holding him gently at the base to help him ease into you. He nearly faltered right there, not expecting to feel your hand, and you just smiled as sweetly as you could at him. 

You whined when you felt him begin to press into you, removing your hand so that you didn’t hurt him on accident. Instead, you gripped onto his shoulders, nails biting into the skin, which seemed to just spur Arthur on more. He was slow, almost tortuously slow as he eased into you, strained breaths hitting your face. He was all you could feel, the delicious stretch of him; you’ve never felt such a wonderful pain. 

It felt like hours had passed before you felt Arthur’s hips press flush against yours. Your chest rose and fell rapidly like you’d just run for miles. He felt incredible, and you could tell that he felt similarly by the small groans he tried to stifle. He stayed still inside you for a moment, letting you adjust, which the rational part of your brain was grateful for. But you had long since been ready for him, and you desperately needed him to move. 

Petting back his hair, you brought his attention to you. So many emotions flashed in his eyes as he regarded you, a soft smile gracing his lips. You’d think that right now he’d look the most tense, but you’d never seen him so relaxed. The furrow in his brow was long gone, the crinkles in his eyes from smiling, not from squinting worriedly. 

“I love you, Arthur,” you found yourself saying again that night, and you swore his ears turned red. 

He stammered out something in response, but you just shushed him gently, running a hand back through his hair. “You don’t gotta say it back. I just needed you to know.”

“Oh, I know, darlin’. Don’t you ever think otherwise.”

You just hummed in response, before wiggling your hips slightly. He got the message, slowly pulling himself out of you, leaving only the tip in. His eyes never once left you, gauging your reactions. All you could do was moan, too overwhelmed with the feeling of him to do anything else. 

It didn’t take too long for him to build a slow rhythm, the rocking of his hips gentle. Even his touch was light as it danced over your skin, making you shiver. With each thrust in and out, your breasts moved with the motion, and eventually, Arthur just couldn’t resist the temptation. His lips were all over them as he continued to rock into you. 

Your legs had locked around his waist, keeping his body as close to you as possible. You felt so full, hitting spots inside of you that you hadn’t even reached before. Every slow drag of his hips was magnificent, and you could feel the slow beginnings of another orgasm begin to form. It was long since reaching its completion, but you knew exactly what you needed to reach it faster. 

Carding your fingers into his hair, you pressed your lips against his, this kiss sloppy and uncoordinated, but you did manage to snag his lip between your teeth. It gave you the reaction you wanted, his hips bucking into yours harshly, making you cry out with pleasure. “Arthur…” you tried to speak, but another roll of his hips made you moan, cutting you off. 

“Darlin’, you feel so… God.”

“Arthur,” you tried again. “Faster, please.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Praises tumbled from you as he picked up the pace, and you felt yourself building faster. Yet it wasn’t enough, and you finally just told him what you needed from him. 

“I need you to fuck me, Arthur.”

If he was shocked by your words, he did a damn good job hiding it. He said your name, low, cautionary, making you shiver again. He continued the pace he was at, though, and your fingers tugged at his hair in mild frustration. “Darlin’, you-”

“Fuck me, Arthur.” You didn’t care that you sounded like you were whining. When he pulled out of you completely, you were confused, but it was quickly replaced by sheer arousal at the look on his face.

Like you weighed nothing, you were flipped over by Arthur, being manhandled by him turning you on a lot more than you thought it would. Now on your hands and knees, you didn’t even get to glance back at him before he was filling you again. His hands dug into the flesh of your hips as he pounded into you relentlessly, and you’re sure your voice would be hoarse later because of how loudly you were crying out. 

With every thrust in, he hit something in you that made you see stars. “Is this what my girl wanted?” You heard him ask, panting lightly from exertion. “Am I fuckin’ you just like ya wanted?”

“God, Arthur, yes!” You could feel your release coming closer, faster than you anticipated. 

“Is this what you imagined?” He leaned down close to your ear. “Is this what you imagined I’d do to you, instead of him?” He said the last word with so much venom, so much hatred. Jeasuly, you realized, looked good on him. But he didn’t need to know that Hans had never had you like this; you were enjoying his anger. 

“Even better.” You admitted. “So much better.”

You groaned when you felt his hand sneak between your legs, rubbing at your clit with hard, short circles. “You feel even better than I imagined, darlin’.” His words hit you like a freight train, and you glanced back at him, shocked. “What, you thought you’re the only one with dirty thoughts?” His lips grazed your shoulderblades. “Oh, darlin’, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout this for longer than I care to admit.”

If you weren’t currently about to fall apart beneath him, you would’ve asked him to tell you more. But you couldn’t, and you felt the tension in you begin to shatter. “Arthur, I’m…”

“I’ll be right behind ya,” he groaned into your skin. “C’mon, darlin’, let me feel ya…” With a final thrust of his hips and press of his fingers, you came again, your arms shaking. It only took a few more thrusts for Arthur, especially because of the way your walls fluttered and clenched around him, and he quickly pulled out of you before spilling across your back.

Your arms finally gave out, collapsing face-first into the pillows. Pleasure coursed through your body, making your muscles buzz pleasantly. You felt the bed shift, and you whined at the lack of heart from Arthur. “I’ll be right back, darlin’. I promise,” he chuckled lightly.

True to his word, he was back within moments. You must’ve dozed off for a second, but you were woken up with a start when you felt a damp, warm washrag wipe at your skin. “S’just me,” he reassured, quickly cleaning your skin of his release. 

When you heard him set it on the nightstand, you finally rolled over, glancing up at Arthur. After enhancing soft smiles, he leaned down and kissed you, which quickly turned from light grazing of lips to a heated kiss. When his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, you felt arousal begin to creep back into your system. The things this man did to you.

Still, much to his evident disappointment, you pulled him away. You saw the bags under his eyes, still as evident as they were a while ago. “Arthur,” you sighed, “you’re exhausted.”

He just shrugged, clearly not regarding his well-being. “I made ya a promise, darlin’,” he smirked. “Besides, I don’t think I could sleep if I wanted to.”

“But-”

His lips silenced you, and when he pulled away you glared lightly at him. “We’ll just sleep in late tomorrow, no?”

You sighed, but it was hard to remain adamant in your stance with the way he pleaded at you with his eyes. “I suppose-” His lips collided against yours, climbing on top of you, like he couldn’t bear to be away from you any longer. But what made you gasp was the feeling of his almost hard cock pressing against you, ready for another round. 

The two of you didn’t go to bed until the light from the sunrise streamed into the room, tangled up in a mess of blankets and limbs.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut

[luna-rainbow]

Thoughts about this quote from AM about how Sam doesn't trust Bucky and will probably never completely forgive him for being the Winter Soldier?

Here's the link to the tweet I saw (I don't know how to include screenshots sorry 😭😭):

https://twitter.com/DianneR_99/status/1785867853238833641?t=NUhkilfwG2guZQx31-b82g&s=19

It's apparently from the official Marvel Studios' collector special TFATWS book.

Why is it so hard for people at Marvel to acknowledge that Bucky is a victim not some reformed villain?

(Also please feel free to ignore this ask, I know people have been dogpiled in the past for being slightly critical of AM and the last thing I want is for you to get hate because of me.)

It’s okay I think I’ve blocked most of them, or they’ve gotten tired of dogpiling me and blocked me. If I’ve missed anyone feel free to announce yourselves to get a block 😌

Thanks for bringing this to my attention!

I’ve said in other asks about AM’s comments on Bucky, I never blame an actor for not understanding the nuances of another character. That’s not his job. Understanding Bucky is the job of Sebastian Stan and the writers.

However, I know it’s tempting to compare him to CEvans, who had always spoken so affectionately of Bucky. Remember that Bucky’s story in the movies was complementary to Steve’s, meaning that CEvans had to understand Bucky's tragedy in order to understand Steve’s pain and guilt. To CEvans/Steve, it was important that Bucky was a wronged hero, because it rationalises why Steve would go such lengths to help him. For the entire trilogy, Bucky, and particularly Bucky's suffering, was very much impetus for Steve’s personal journey and growth. I've talked about the narrative motifs in other meta and I want to emphasise I don't mean this from a shipping lens - I mean that thematically, events that happen to Bucky have always been a major driver for Steve to make important narrative choices, and it is true even if you see their relationship as platonic.

Which…I guess brings us to the crux of the disk horse that brought about this tweet. No, Bucky is in no way important personally or narratively to Sam. Sam doesn’t grow or change because he cares about Bucky, although fortunately at least Bucky’s TFATWS arc involves him growing because he cares about Sam. We know Bucky is not personally or narratively important to Sam because of what AM has just said — Sam will always see Bucky as the guy who tore off his wings and kicked him off a helicarrier. Not a WW2 war hero, not a prisoner of war tortured into blank amnesia, not a survivor who had to rebuild most of his identity ground up, not a veteran living with PTSD without any social supports. These same views are echoed by his fans, who will scoff at everything I’ve said above and say we’re trying to “woobify a white fave” without knowing what woobify means. Sam does not care about what Bucky has been through, we know because the writing of the story has told AM that it is not important to understand who Bucky is or what Bucky has been through. All AM needs to do is to banter with this guy like he’s still annoyed at him over an incident 10 years ago when he had amnesia.

Again, I don't blame AM for this, because he can only work with what the writers have told him about the intended relationship between Sam and Bucky. And to be fair, he plays it like it is. At no point does it feel like Sam values or trusts Bucky beyond "annoying guy I put up with for work". I know some fans like to point to the Louisiana scene as proof that Sam trusts Bucky and has him as part of the family -- which would be great fanon if 1) AM didn't just contradict that and b) Sam spends most of the deleted scenes calling Bucky "the Winter Soldier" like the guy had any say in the moniker. And no, Bucky confessing his deeds to Yori is not Bucky reclaiming his identity as the Winter Soldier.

This is not an indictment on the ship, by the way, because you can wrangle canon to make it work, and shipping has been built on far less. I've got nearly 50k words on AO3 proving I've tried. But TFATWS canon is full of things happening off camera and the truth is...we never saw mutual trust and affection on camera between the two men. We saw two guys perpetually annoyed at and annoying to each other, and AM just gave the reason why.

#tfatws critical #fandom wank #asks

[perfectlyripeclementine]

hi friends. this post is for folks who have some combo of disposable income and/or generational wealth.

i urge folks to consider how much you’re giving to mutual aid in comparison to how much you spend on stuff that you feel is frivolous. things that make your life a little better but that you wouldn’t suffer tremendously going without. this is a method that has helped me become a lot more generous.

this number is different for everyone. for me, that’s $40 on doordash every so often bc i’m too tired to cook or run groceries. it’s $30 i drop on buying a book on a whim.

i think we all deserve nice things that go beyond our immediate need for survival — and also, those of us who live with some degree of financial ease should share the abundance we have. my desire for comfort is not more important than another human’s right to food, shelter, and safety.

it’s easy to get trapped in - i can’t make a difference, i can’t individually solve poverty, i can’t fix structural injustice. all that is true, but my money can help alleviate suffering. if i can afford to drop $40 on drinks with a friend, how much can i afford to give someone who is hungry? or escaping war?

we know that lower income folks tend to share their money more than wealthy folks. culturally, people who grow up with money are taught to be cagey with it - with how much they have, how much they spend, and how much they can afford to give. if we are committed to solidarity we need to intentionally build in practices of sharing and mutual aid because we are taught to feel stingy around it otherwise.

i just shared a post with an evacuation fund for folks trying to leave Rafah. it is an emergency. Gaza has been in a state of emergency for the past 7 months — but what’s happening in Rafah right now is different. the clock is ticking and we can help people escape death.

if you’ve got a little left over after you pay your bills, if you expect to receive an inheritance, how much did you spend last time you bought something that was maybe a little irresponsible but that you knew wouldn’t impact your safety? can you afford to spend that amount to save someone’s life?

#this feels weird to post bc i have very strongly engrained that Talking About Money Is Rude #but that is one of the things that prevents us from sharing it! #mutual aid #also i’m not the internet police it’s up to you to decide if this applies to you or not

[theamityelf]

In your Kamakura Wrangler Au could you rank who would be the most likely to hurt/endanger Makoto to the least likely to hurt/protective of him out of the students please?

That is a great question.

Honestly, I think his greatest protector (in terms of effectiveness) would actually be Hiro. While he's not actively protecting him or staying with him most of the time, he often does little things to set the right future in motion to protect him. In general, Hiro happens to lack the kind of hollow boredom that most Kamukuras feel; like I mentioned, his vibe toward everything is just that he is watching reruns of real life. Makoto is a recurring character he likes well enough on a show he's seen plenty of times. (The only show. The only channel. But it's not a bad one. It might even be really good, if this were his first time watching.)

Plus, Makoto's luck can occasionally surprise him. One time, Makoto trips and spills food on himself, and Hiro surprises everyone by actually laughing, because wow! A new scene for once!

Second most protective, of course, is Taka. He is vigilant about making sure none of the other Kamukuras kill this innocent and normal person. I think Kyoko and Byakuya would come around to protecting Makoto, too, but initially their vibe might be more, "You won't survive here for very long, so tell me this, before you die..." Taka is protective right away.

The only catch there is, Taka values Makoto's humanity so much that there is a non-zero chance that, if he thinks the scientists will change Makoto into one of them, he might mercy-kill him. It wouldn't be his default response. He's significantly more likely to attack the scientists or whoever else is posing a danger to Makoto than Makoto himself. But if he's identified it as impossible to protect Makoto from being Kamukurified, he would view death as the kinder, more ethical alternative. It would be very quick and painless, and he would cry for the first time, after. Makoto's ability to sway Taka's view on the humanity of the Kamukuras is so, so important to how well everything goes. Though the increasing investment of Byakuya and Kyoko would be helpful.

And Chihiro would also be a big help. They're usually hiding (and as a Kamukura, they're really good at it), so Makoto's conversations with Chihiro read like conversations with a ghost, but the arc there is that gradually Chihiro starts to become a physical presence. Eventually leading to Chihiro protecting him if and when it becomes necessary. Maybe someone thinks they've gotten Makoto alone, his allies are elsewhere, and they can attack him, but lo and behold Chihiro appears and saves him.

Mukuro initially protects Makoto only from being taken away by the scientists. Her strong sense of personal loyalty from before is now expressed as a rigid bond with the new collective, meaning she is very strict about the treatment of the Kamukuras. They have been given this resource, they have negotiated his use, so the scientists are not allowed to take him. Makoto always has Taka on one side of him, but when the scientists enter the room, Mukuro immediately stands at his other side. I think the two of them don't talk all that much, but she still grows fond of him from what few conversations they do have and how positive a force he's been for the other Kamukuras.

On the other side, of course Junko might harm or kill him just on an impulse. More likely harm than kill; despair is one thing, but she does actually need the enrichment. The thing is, the more he interacts with her, and especially the more he reminds her of the past and maybe helps some of her memories return, she might start to actively enjoy despair again, instead of just feeling the impulse toward it. And this time, she's got all the talents of a Kamukura. She would be extremely thankful to him, and killing him might be an expression of that thanks. Or she might keep him on hand as she develops into her new self, with the understanding that she'll kill him when it will hurt her most. If she actually starts to care about what's happening, she can manipulate her friends' eccentricities to get Makoto to herself. (Give or take a wild Chihiro.)

Sayaka would actually be something of a problem, not because she actively bears him ill will, but because she can't handle his attempts to be present as a friend and support for her. Her way of making sense of the trauma she underwent in the Kamukura Project, and even more so the very particular brand of demeaning that is being one of many Kamukuras, is to perceive herself as the one person who doesn't need any help, support, enrichment, or anything. She's supposed to be the one who can help everyone, and then Makoto shows up and talks to her in ways no one ever has, tells her about a past self she's not supposed to yearn for, etc. If she wants or needs it, then suddenly what she went through was just a pointless thing that harmed her and not the thing that made her what the world needs. She feels she needs to take him down several pegs. But I believe she can overcome it.

Hina is a danger, but she doesn't particularly mean to be; she's just very curious and she assigns no positive or negative moral value to any means of exploring that curiosity that pops into her mind. She'll mitigate her own more destructive thoughts because the group will have made agreements as to how to engage with Makoto, but for anything they haven't made explicit agreements about, there is no guarantee she won't hurt him. Even once she considers him a friend, it would be a separate thing for her to fully understand why suffering is a thing that people actively avoid, because she just doesn't factor suffering into her own thought process at all. (She understands suffering, functionally, and she has a full grasp on the ways in which it motivates and influences people's actions, but her own relationship with suffering colors her understanding of what it means that most people avoid it. Not to mention she's an analyst who spends a lot of time around Junko; her data is skewed.)

Celeste will become a danger if it will help her escape, but in most circumstances it won't.

Mondo will become a danger out of agitation over changes in the status quo, since they cause him to feel a lack of control. Like Sayaka and Hina, I believe he can overcome that.

Hifumi and Leon will be more into watching from the sidelines than anything. When Makoto befriends them, they still won't be too active. Sakura I think would be pretty neutral to him. And I'm going to say Toko likes him but does nothing for him.

#danganronpa #kamukura wrangler au #makoto naegi #yasuhiro hagakure #kiyotaka ishimaru #mukuro ikusaba #byakuya togami #kyoko kirigiri #chihiro fujisaki #mondo owada #junko enoshima #leon kuwata #sayaka maizono #celestia ludenberg #aoi asahina #sakura ogami #hifumi yamada #toko fukawa

[fromtheseventhhell]

I want to make a longer post about this someday but: I think Arya's TWOW arc is going to include her coming to terms with her identity as a Lady. This has been an ongoing conflict with her since her first chapter and I think her flowering in winds is going to mark a turning point. The theory of her having an apprenticeship with the courtesans holds a lot of weight and the idea of Arya going through puberty among a group of unconventional women she's fostered a positive relationship with is just too perfect. It would really have an impact on Arya reconciling her personal idea of what a Lady should be. There's also a lot that she could learn from them in terms of courtesies, communication, appearances, body-language, etc. that would elevate her current skill-set and ways her relationship with them could push the plot.

Not to mention she will undoubtedly reclaim her identity as Arya Stark, and her being a Lady is inseparable from that. Arya Stark is a Lady Stark and being a Lady is a social position, not a measure of how well someone preforms feminine tasks. She shouldn't have to relinquish her position because she doesn't fit patriarchal standards. That's not to say that she's ever going to be the perfect example of a traditional Lady but what I think will happen is that she becomes capable of playing the part. She plays several identities throughout the series but she's always been Arya underneath, so I think it's appropriate that she learns to adopt a "persona" that's part of her. Her remembering Ned putting on his "Lord's face" (+ the various examples of other characters being separate from their ruling persona) makes me think that Arya will be donning her "Lady's face" when she makes a return to Westeros.

#arya stark #asoiaf #twow speculations #Arya has been through so much traumatic shit and I think her flowering is going to bring up a lot of her self-esteem issues #I just really need her surrounded by kind older women when that happens so she can have some comfort #George saying her arc in braavos could be the plot of a YA novel?? definitely makes me think she's going to grow up a lot there #she's already one of the most mature characters so I think part of it's going to be her accepting her duty as a Stark Lady #she wants to help and protect people and the best way she can do that is if she has political power #She could learn that first hand in TWOW #possibly through her finding out about her marriage??? and meeting Jeyne in Braavos?? #and before someone says it courtesans are so much more then sex work so I don't want to hear it #they are such a big part of Braavosi high life...they're cultured and connected with very important people #I just have so many thoughts on the subject cause I think her apprenticeship with them will serve multiple purposes #the faceless men and their plans...the iron bank...the sealord...It's all connected and I think her apprenticeship with them will kick off #the braavos plot and could mark the beginning of the end of her time with the faceless men and in braavosi #half a boy half a wolf pup -> half a lady half a wolf #I think her current skillset fits well and it's likely she'll learn even more in TWOW #Arya defining her own role as a Lady and becoming comfortable means so much to me

[stuckinapril]

.

#I think people treat others on here who share any sort of news like they’re actual professional journalists and we’re not #I genuinely don’t think a single person on here is #We’ve just taken it upon ourselves to share the news bc the actual journalists are the ones who mince words and have ulterior motives etc #But usually if someone on here makes a mistake it’s an honest one & they will rectify it if you notify them #You do not have to attack them or say they’re misleading on purpose like I think most ppl on here #Don’t have that sort of agenda. At least the ones who’re fighting for legitimate causes like Palestinian and Sudanese genocide etc etc #I just hope no one on here gets attacked in light of the Samara situation #I just think we should be more open to making mistakes instead of jumping to bad faith interpretations #News have to be accurate but mistakes r also ok and usually a simple communication resolves it #Tumblr is the bad faith interpretation website so I’m not surprised but I also think we need to be more graceful #Bc how else can anyone improve / learn more etc etc #Whenever someone on here shares an opposing opinion it’s not that I dislike that or want to intentionally suppress it #It’s usually just framed in a very inflammatory way that doesn’t even give me the opportunity to give my side and might motivate other ppl #To think I’m basically like a normal journalist who intentionally misleads 💀💀 I am An Iraqi Girl Who Is Trying To Help #At least this has taught me how to gracefully own up to mistakes and take accountability etc that’s pretty cool #Bc even w all that said I think it’s important to hold urself accountable if u do make a mistake regardless of intention. #We just shouldn’t demonize making mistakes bc how can someone grow Ok I’m done

[angellurgy]

:]

#AAAAAAAAAAAAA FUCKFUCKFUCK #CONDTANT UNENDING SILENT SCREAMING #NO WORDS BUT FORCED TO UNDERSTAND STILL UNESCAPABLE I CANT I CANT I CANT #ill never be anything ill never be anything ill never be anything at all to any of you #too fucking tired to go out of the house for so long no way to stop being tired its all wearing down on me like a fucking curse. too much #CANT CANT CANT take 10 more days of this waiting itll just go back to normal after #TRIED TO LIVE BUT WHAT IS THE POINT WHAT IS THERE EVEN FOR ME NO LOVE NO CARE NO IMPORTANCE NO PLACE #FADING MEMORY REMNANTS OF MY SOUL DRIPPING OUT OF MY HEAD LIKE A GUTTER. NO ONE WILL REMEMBER. EVEN I CANT. #AAAAAAAAAAA rotrotrotrotrotrotrotrotrot wish i just had a fucking dad to hold me wish i had a brother to show me the loving care noone will #please. llease. please. nothing left nothing left everyone wants me less with every single post but icant stop #cooped up inside. tumblrs knly good when you have a life outside of it. i cant fight it tho bc of this fucking EXHAUSTION #caused by the emotional pain and exclusion. eternal loop. let me.out #NOT LIKE IT MATTERS TO ANYONE BUT THE FEW WHO CANT HELP. THE FEW WHO CANT MAKE MY SITUATION BETTER. I JUST WANT A GROUP. #I KNOW COMMUNITY ISNT REAL BUT I FUCKING WANT SOMETHING. PLEASE #LET ME OUT. GIVE ME LIFE. INSTEAD OF THIS CONSTANT FUCKING VOID GROWING BLACK MOLD ON THE CREVICES OF MY SKULL #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa nothing is giving me life right now i want sometbing i cant create anything i dont wanna die but i have no choice #FIGHT THROUGH THE TIREDNESS WALK INTO THE FOREST IN THE NIGHT AND ROT. #SLIT MY WRISTS EVEN THOUGH IT WONT DO SHIT. LAY ON A BLANKET AND LET THE COLD TAKE ME #WOULDNT BE THE FIRST TIME IVE BEEN CLOSE TO IT. LEAST I CAN GO ALL THE WAY. GOD WHY DO I TRY. I WANT TO TRY. I HAVE NOTHING TO TRY FOR. #NO OTHER CHOICE.