#holy fuck this took so long to write

[milkcartoncatkid]

tbh i dont like the new crk songs at all. keep in mind this is how I see things and this is in MY opinion.

glittering dreams sounds like some netflix original anime opening, and that really turns me off about it. i think they went with too common of a pop song sound, especially during the chorus. so many pop songs (especially japanese and korean songs) have that type of sound to them.

transfigure sounds alright; but coming from a vocaloid fan it sounds sort of like devsisters went on youtube, searched “rock music”, scrolled through until they found neru/oshiirep’s channel (plus maybe a few other vocaloid rock producers), watched 30 seconds of what was probably idola no circus or possibly even kutabarouze, and said “yep. let’s just do what they did.” its really got no flavor to me.

most crk songs (even parfait’s song everything you need) just seems so bland and unoriginal. but then there’s the magnum opus from devsisters that i have yet to mention.

bad and dark by b.a.d.4.

i think we can all agree that the bts collab was a HUGE landmark type of event for crk, with voice acting from the bts cast themselves along with a rhythm game being implemented into the game. and of course, we needed our rivaling group to give the story the spice that it has. so, devsisters gave us b.a.d.4, the cookies of darkness dressed up as a kpop boyband.

and BOY was that a hit.

it’s got nearly a million streams on spotify, not even close to devsisters’ next most streamed song (i promise sung by noh seung ho-nemesis, which only has about 300,000 streams). on youtube, it’s got (as of todays date) 2.4 MILLION VIEWS. and the fact that it’s got “BTS collab” tacked to it makes it only MORE appealing to fans (and maybe even non-crk fans).

after bad and dark, i don’t really think there’s anything that can even compete with it. especially since bad and dark has such a unique and well… VILLAINOUS sound to it. it even means more with the cookies of darkness not singing to please an audience, but rather to please themselves and what they really want to sing about (pm cookie singing about his shroomies, rv cookie mentions his cake hounds at one point, etc).

however there is still hope for the summer soda rock festa event to take a turn, and that hope would be nagito koma—COUGHCOUGH ROCKSTAR COOKIE’S SONG.

that song comes out in about two days, so i’ll update this post with what i think about it when it comes out.

tldr; bad and dark was devsisters’ magnum opus, and it’s all downhill from here

#crk #cookie run kingdom #summer soda rock festa #summer soda rock festa crk #aspen.jpeg #holy fuck this took so long to write #please don’t attack me for this i honestly just wanted to get my opinions out of my system #because not me getting angry at devsisters and defending bad and dark with my life 💀 #I KNOW IM BEING SO TOXIC ABT THIS OKAY IM SORRYYYYYKSHRKSHRJS

[were-changing-cake-vaults]

Doc is really, really, really tired of getting dragged into things.

That’s the problem with this server: he tries to do his own thing, but people cannot leave him alone. No matter what he does to deter them, whether that be harmless threat or psychological warfare, they always come back to dance on his metaphorical lawn. Or actual lawn. Or precious one-of-a-kind bush.

And at this point, he thought he had gotten used to all the shenanigans. He doesn’t want to be the grumpy old man amongst his friends and colleagues, so Doc tries to laugh it off, not take it so seriously. Occasionally, he’ll even join in on the jokes and put a little extra pizzazz into his mannerisms. Doc has his limits, of course, everyone does, but he’s been working on pushing those limits further for the past while.

So when Beef makes the joke about Big Salmon on day one, he joins in on it for the moment. It’s a good joke, really. It gets a hearty laugh out of him more than once. The joke is made, people laugh, Doc is included, he moves on and goes back to doing his own thing.

Honestly, he doesn’t even remember what he said. The joke should’ve been a one-and-done, forgotten after a week’s time. Whatever he said should’ve been inconsequential. Should be. Beef’s not one to drag out a bit for that long, usually, but here he is, dressed as a salmon and saying he got emails from a fish. Doc is utterly clueless throughout most of it- he doesn’t even understand what constituted him getting dragged in this time. And the way Beef and Skizz are talking is scaring him, just a little bit. Skizz is too aggressive, Beef is laying down the charmspeak, and both of their eyes are glossy and strange. There’s a hollow echo in the room.

But Doc, absurd as this is, plays along. Watches as one of his villagers gets killed. Lets nervous laughter through as he’s given 10 salmon heads, and leaves. When he gets back to his base out in the middle of nowhere, he realizes that these aren’t normal salmon heads, they’re worse: deformed, many-eyed, slimy and reeking of rot. And while this isn’t the strangest thing Doc has seen, as far as he knows, Beef isn’t one for game-breaking like he is. The deformities on the heads don’t even look player made. Whatever this is, it’s bizaarre, and it’s not something Doc wants to be involved in.

Then the whispers start.

He doesn’t do what he’s asked—build a shrine for whatever Big Salmon is—initially. He lets it be for a bit, shrugs it off, and keeps building. But it’s hard to focus when you can’t sleep—in his dreams he’s drowning, sinking deeper and deeper, sea life surrounding him and screaming and he’s screaming too as a pair of eyes stare him down—and when you can’t get a moment of quiet. He keeps hearing that damn slapping sound and little nothings about shrine schematics, block pallets, glorious statues. The air starts reeking of rot, far more than a swamp should. Strange slime crawls up the scaffolding that he keeps slipping on.

And this is why Doc is tired: Big Salmon is not his first rodeo. This isn’t the first time something has grabbed hold of his soul and tried to puppeteer it to his own demise. This isn’t even the scariest thing he’s come across- he still dreams of watching himself rip his own arm off. He knows gods and entities like he knows redstone, all the intricacies of magic that weave through the universe. They want to be satisfied, satiated. Doc will not give whatever Big Salmon is that satisfaction, not for long.

So he puts up with the rot, the slime, the dreams. Keeps the salmon heads, perpetually grotesque, in a chest where he can see them. Gives them a minuscule in: blueprints are crafted of the shrine he is meant to build, dying leaves are placed and waterlogged, copper is bent and formed into a worthless statue. The sky is cloudy. The sky has been cloudy all week, swamp air thick with the smell of rotting fish. He gives Beef a call, tells him to bring Skizz along.

When what should be Doc’s friend arrives, he is more fish than man. The tinnitus-like whisper of the thing trying to get him reaches a roar as he gives Beef a look over- there is no telling where the suit ends and the skin begins, all scaled, slimy and opalescent. Skizz, on the contrary, is looking relatively normal; the only strange thing about him are his glazed over eyes. Something about that makes Doc queasy about his plan, but he swallows the bile rising in his throat and steels himself, forces himself to be calm. This is not his first rodeo.

Doc’s faked smile doesn’t fail him as he leads Beef and Skizz to the statue. It doesn’t fail him as he hands the last rotting head to Beef for him to place, on top of an over-polished button. His grin only widens as Skizz counts down his boss pressing the button.

With a single button press, the voices that have taken residence in Doc’s head are wiped out, as are Skizz and Beef: bloody…fish…bits fly high into the sky when they fall into the exploding trap. There is a deafening boom, and then there is Doc, unscathed, laughing wickedly, organic eye sparkling with mania. Gods never win against him. There is no winning against the goat.

And finally, with the threat of Big Salmon defeated, Doc can finally rest. After all, he is incredibly tired.

#woosh writes #oceans calling au #docm77 #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft #FINALLY! ITS FUCKING DONE!!!! #HOLY FUCK THIS TOOK ME FOREVER #I am so sorry this took as long as it did- a bajillion irl things happened and that delayed my writing significantly #ANYWAYS. [SCREAMS]

[shywhumpauthor]

Ahah fun idea here, tie your Whumpee to a fence post or something indirect sunlight. Make sure it’s a really hot, bright day outside. Cut away their shirt, make sure they’re tied to the fence face-first so their back gets the worst of the burns.

Bring them inside when the sun starts to set, then have your Whumper whip them with a belt.

#hoLY FUCK I CANT TYPE #MY FINGERS ARE HITTINF THE WRONG LETTERS IT TOOK ME SO FUCKINF LONG TO WROTE THIS FUCKING PROLPT #is this inspired by the awful sunburn I have all over my arms and back #even though I had sunscreen on and I was out in the sun for LITERALLY LESS THAN FIVE MINIGES #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #whump idea #whump scenario #writing prompts #writing prompt

[aresianrepose]

Before the semester kicks off and murders me, @disniq​ asked for my essay on Jason Todd and hysteria. So, without further ado, here is an actual essay (fucking dissertation) because I refuse brevity. It is extremely long. I’ve split it into sections so you can find the section header and read what you want. This does not encompass all the narrative trauma themes and lived experiences that this boy holds, just specifically hysteria. 

Jason Todd, The Hysteric & Bruce Wayne, The Batman

I think it’s a common reading that Jason Todd is girl-coded and the patron saint of victims, at least within the circle that I’ve fallen into within this fandom. There are plenty of meta discussions on why those readings stand, so I’m not going to reiterate them. A pillar of him being girl-coded and someone trauma survivors have latched onto as one of our own has to do with being written in the context of hysterical femininity. And let me just say, I don’t think that writing was done in a way that he was intentionally coded as hysterical, but it is a function of our patriarchal society that this coding was used on him albeit without the explicit purpose of writing a hysteric story. 

For the purpose of this post: the word woman includes ciswomen, transwomen, and any person who is socially positioned as a woman regardless of gender identity. I include the positionality here because anyone can experience misogyny and sexism depending on the perception of the perpetrators either interpersonally or systemically. 

The History and Context of Hysteria

To understand the context, we have to look at the history and oppression of hysteria. Hysteria (in the modern context of psychology) emerged in the nineteenth century and is difficult to define by design and often applied to traumatized, unruly, and broken women. The main patriarchs who contributed to hysterical study were Jean-Martin Charcot and Sigmund Freud. I only mention this because it’s important to know their names moving forward for any of this to make sense. The beginning of this started with Charcot literally putting women whose lives had been marked by rape, abuse, exploitation, and poverty on display in his Tuesday lectures (which were open to the public) to show his findings on hysteria. This was actually seen as restoring dignity (fucking yikes) to the women because before Charcot these hysterical women were cast aside and not treated at all. In Charcot’s work, the women’s speech was seen as simply “vocalization” and their inner lives, their stories, their words, were silenced. After hearing a woman cry for her mother during one of the public sessions Charcot remarked, “Again, note these screams. You could say it’s a lot of noise over nothing” (Herman). 

This led to Freud, Charcot’s student, wanting to surpass his teacher by discovering the cause of hysteria. This was disastrous. Freud started with listening to the hysterics. In doing so, he learned and believed them about the abuse, rape, and exploitation of their pasts. He then published his work and gave a lecture on it. The work rivals even contemporary psychological work on trauma in it’s level of compassion, understanding, and treatment of survivors. However, he was then labeled a feminist (this was all happening during the first wave of feminism) and professionally ostracized. How in the world could these aristocratic French men be sexually abusing their wives, sisters, and daughters??? Insanity, truly. And... This always fucking gets me. He recanted his work and then told his patients they all imagined it because they wanted to be sexually abused by their husbands, brothers, and fathers. This set back the study of trauma by literally a century. One colleague called his work “a scientific fairy-tale” simply because he had the audacity to believe victims. Also, I want to point out that the famous hysteria case during this time was the case of Anna O and she was ultimately villainized by the entire psychological community for going into crisis after her care provider abruptly ended their therapeutic relationship after two years of DAILY sessions. 

Anyway. We can see how the power of these men over vulnerable women silenced, pathologized, villainized, infantilized, and used male ‘logic’ to completely destroy their credibility and lives under the guise of care and hysteria. Even when credible men lend their expertise and voices to the victims, their voices are silenced. This particular iteration of hysteria lasted over a century, and we are still dealing with the consequences of these actions and ideas within our social construction, medical and mental health care, interpersonal relationships, and more. Patriarchal pillars such as hysteria don’t die. We saw it move from hysteria to schizophrenia (which used to have the same symptoms of hysteria before the diagnosis changed in more contemporary psychology) after this which led to widespread lobotomies and electroshock therapy (my least favorite case of a lobotomy being done is on a woman who was diagnosed with LITERALLY ‘narcissist husband’) to depression in the 40s-50s with the over prescription of benzodiazepines to house wives to keep them in a zombie state (these prescriptions were sometimes double and triple what we take today with the intent of medical catatonia). In my opinion, as well as other counselors within the feminist therapy theoretical orientation, we are currently seeing it with the emergence of borderline-personality disorder. Think about how BPD is treated and demonized for a second. I professionally know therapists who refuse to work with BPD clients due to this villainization and just fucking gross perception of victims.

These are just the highlights, but it shows the history of hysteria. There have been centuries of women being marked as hysterical and the cures have ranged from lobotomy to bed rest (which sounds not so bad but read the Yellow Wallpaper and get back to me on that one). While the Yellow Wallpaper is fictional, the life behind it was not. After the traumatic birth of her child the author, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, was remanded to bed rest by the authority of her husband and doctor. Within the sphere of medical control, hysterical women are often treated as children while their doctors make decisions for their mental well-being without consulting them, or they hide the truth of their procedures for “the woman’s own good” and because “she’s hysterical and wouldn’t comprehend the logical need for this.” She then had a mental break due to the treatment. Again, we see hysterical women being silenced, infantilized, discredited from their own experiences, and under the narrative control of male logic and voices. 

Hysterical women have often historically been seen as beneath men, except for when they’re dangerous. Listening to victims is inherently threatening to the status quo because all trauma comes from a systemic framework. The framework that upholds patriarchal power. It’s easy to see why that would be seen as dangerous to powerful men. We saw this with the European witch genocide in which oppressed women were targeted and wiped out under the excuse of what was considered women’s work. (Before this time, witchcraft wasn’t tied to any religion and was mostly just seen as women’s work. It was targeted specifically to have an excuse to persecute widows, homeless, disabled, and vulnerable women who no longer had men to reign over them during a time of political unrest and scarce resources). This time period saw hysterical and traumatized women demonized as dangerous, evil, immoral, hypersexual, and supernaturally wily. A threat to the moral fabric of society. 

(Interesting history side note: this caused the view of women’s base traits we have today. It stemmed from the Victorian era that came after this time period in which women learned if they behaved a certain way, they would be spared the stake. For example, before the witch trials, women were actually seen as the ones with unsatiable sexual appetites, something we culturally prescribe to men now.) 

Notice how none of this has to do with the actual abuse that happens to the women, but instead the labeling and treatment of women when they are already showing the symptoms of abuse, trauma, control, exploitation, and rape. 

Jason Todd, The Hysteric

So, how does this relate to Jason Todd? To say that Jason has experienced trauma would be an understatement. Extreme poverty, loss of parent to death and addiction, loss of parent to the justice system, parental abuse, manipulation, witnessing violent crimes, witnessing the aftermath of sexual abuse and assault, arguably (not explicit in the text) his own sexual trauma, witnessing the dead bodies of victims, a violent death, and subsequently a violent resurrection. There’s also an argument to be made for being a child soldier and how that is romanticized up until he dies, but the text does not treat this as traumatizing.

Now, I’m not going to dive into the trauma he experienced. The purpose of this is only to look at how he’s framed as hysterical in the narrative, and as I stated, hysteria was a word slapped on women after they tried to talk about their trauma or exhibited symptoms (or were just unruly women). Jason does embody many facets of the victim experience and this is just one of them. 

Feelings vs “logic” - Firstly, it is really hard to talk calmly about things that you carry, your experiences, your trauma, and things that specifically harm you. It is easy to talk calmly about things that don’t. This is why there is an abuse tactic of gaslighting or silencing victims by framing their very real reactions to harm or their triggers as abuse, this is known as “reactive abuse.” This tactic is also employed in oppressive settings where the privileged group will often default to ‘winning’ a debate by being able to remain calm while the marginalized group whose life, personhood, etc is being harmed by the things being discussed and are unable to have a sterilized, emotionless debate. 

Both of these settings fit Jason nicely within the moral context of vigilante comics. He fought back, he didn’t lay down, and he will do what he deems as necessary to protect himself and others from his fate. This, however, is framed by Bruce and others as being just as bad as his murderer or even just as bad as Joe fucking Chill. To put this in perspective of a real world equivalent. Combine every billionaire on this planet into one person and instead of their shitty business practices murdering people, they did it with their own two hands. And due to their resources and political power, they would never, ever stop killing or be reasonably contained. More people would die with absolute 100% certainty. Would killing that one person make you equally bad as that person or violating the sanctity of life? That’s the moral question that Bruce puts onto Jason. While the moral question inherent to Jason is actually, is there a line worth crossing to provide reasonable safety (for yourself or the nameless community)? There is actually a difference between those two questions and the reactive abuse framing is certainly a choice. Also, it is funny to me that a man with the amount of power Bruce has (and frequently misuses) can lecture a murder victim on the misuse of power and morality. Are we supposed to be agree with his stoic, philosophical lecturing to a marginalized, abused, murder victim? (yes, we are). Bruce leverages (personal) philosophy against victim’s voice for their own safety, and take a wild guess which one is framed as logical and reasonable.

Jason’s morals come secondary to Bruce’s philosophy in a universe where there is still harm being done (but it’s an acceptable harm). Why is killing the line? Bruce is regularly destroying families and lives by feeding them into the prison industrial complex while supporting it with his whole chest. Or he’s disabling and seriously maiming people with the level of violence he uses. 

Crying - Throughout the entire story of Under the Red Hood, we never once see Bruce emote while interacting with Jason outside of tight grimaces. With the exception of the shock he shows at the Joker’s life being threatened, which... Okay, suuure. We never see him cry during any of their interactions, but we do see Jason cry. Specifically, we see him crying when he’s at his most emotionally vulnerable and physically dangerous to the toxic male power fantasy. This kind of vulnerability is rarely shown by male characters, and when it is, it’s usually done with a mist of a tear in their eyes or their face is hidden. There are a few narrative devices that allow men to cry, but they are the exception rather than the rule. Usually, it’s to play for laughs, infantilize, or emasculate. Here, we see Jason combine the violence of a bad victim, bucking the system of power, and fully crying. Just slide right into that hysterical coding like a glove. Jason often shows his feelings entirely. Time and time again, the readers have seen Jason have breakdowns, cry, and be overcome with grief. This is tied to his portrayal as hysterical and unstable in the narrative, but in actuality it shows his capacity for love and how vastly impactful his death was. 

This fits nicely with the next point that Jason fits into the hysterical box. Love is framed as one of his key faults. A son reaching for his father. 

Love - One of Jason’s defining features is the amount of love and compassion he holds. He’s willing to put up with any treatment, shoulder blame, and sacrifice himself for others to almost an unhealthy degree. However, this doesn’t extend to what he defines as his baseline safety. This one line of safety is the one thing that can’t be crossed, even with all of the love he feels for his father. He desperately wants to feel connection, have a family, and be loved in return with the same unwavering ferocity love that he gives. This is such a fucking key part of the victim experience, especially victims of childhood trauma. The desperation to just be chosen. He’s raw and honest with his reasonable expectation for love to provide safety for him and that is framed as hysterical, needy, unstable, naive, and fucking childish. Victims know what they need to have safety, and this framing as Bruce knowing what’s best for Jason and literally giving a cold shoulder to his needs is disgusting. 

Less than - Jason is portrayed as less powerful than Bruce even though they have similar expertise. There are so many instances of this that if you just open any media they both appear in, you can close your eyes, point, and land on an example. It makes me die laughing every time I remember that the Arkham games made Jason just one inch shorter than Bruce. Like, they can’t even be the same fucking height, that’s the level of insecure masculinity surrounding this relationship. Jason cannot and will never be able to be on par with Bruce because of his hysterical femininity and the power of Bruce being the self insert for the toxic male power fantasy. This power dynamic applies to the other batkids as well, but specifically in Jason’s case there is an element of hysteria. The reasons change because he’s so inconsistently written but usually he can’t surpass or even meet a stalemate with Bruce because he’s too emotional, he’s unstable, traumatized, and simply Bad. It’s even explicitly stated by Alfred in Under the Red Hood. 

Victim blaming - Jason deserved to die because he didn’t follow orders. Jason deserved to die for not following his training. Jason deserved to die because he was an angry Robin (oh no a child had an appropriate reaction to sexual violence). Jason deserved to die for being human.

Infantilization - Jason is repeatedly infantilized in contrast to Bruce. When given the ultimatum at the end of UtRH, Bruce speaks to Jason like a child, or a bad dog. Ordering him to do things like, “enough!” or “stop this now.” Bruce knows what’s best for Jason (and for everyone in the entire world), we should really just take his word for it and not the victim’s. Imagine staring at a 6 foot wall of a man and scolding him like a child. Beyond that, as mentioned above, his views of love and safety are framed as childish. Even though they are actually leaning more toward collectivism rather than the rampant individualism that Bruce so strongly defers to. (also, just a side note, collectivistic methods in healing from trauma is actually the only scientifically reliable way to heal. Every other method has absolutely abysmal results and higher rates of relapses.)

Silenced and Safety Villainized - Jason is silenced in his own story, acceptable and honored when he was dead and met with vitriol in life. All of the love given to him as Robin turns to ash as soon as he collides with Bruce’s power and morals. I think any survivor can relate to the experience of being told that what happened to them was a long time ago and it’s time to move on. Or even that they’re leveraging their own safety to get what they want in a manipulative way. Regardless of whether or not there was any accountability or justice for the harm done to them. Alfred asks Bruce if he should remove Jason’s memorial in the cave like two seconds after learning of his resurrection because Jason’s methods of securing safety for himself and using his own voice to define his story. Bruce was able to tell Jason’s story when he died. He was able to memorialize, grieve, and ultimately define Jason’s story because Jason wasn’t there to speak for himself. When Jason does speak for himself, he is villainized and literally stripped of his past significance as Robin (or a good victim) by Alfred within seconds. This is reflected in real life with adoptee advocates speaking about how adoption is unethical/harmful/traumatizing and subsequently being framed as ungrateful, selfish, etc. They were little perfect victims without voices before they grew up and could speak for themselves.

Erased - Gestures at the entirety of how Jason is either talked about or completely erased during the 90s Tim Robin run. He wasn’t convenient to talk about, as victims rarely are. This also ties into how Steph’s death was erased and Babs was written like she “won” at trauma by simply... beating it??? 

Dangerous - Jason is framed as threatening the basic fabric of society (in a story with vigilantes this is hard to do, so they have him oppose the no-kill rule, and then doubled down on Bruce’s characterization of no-killing). Anything that bucks the status-quo is usually marked as villainous in mainstream vigilante/superhero comics, but this is a step beyond that into the interpersonal and political sphere. Hysterical women are often framed as dangerous, villains, snakes, and treacherous (the other side of this coin is weak, pathetic, and pitiable) because they are victimized and then have the audacity to do something to the system about it. Whether that be the system of their immediate families or the political sphere. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Jason was paired with Talia in Lost Days to hammer this point home to the reader. It could’ve just as easily been anyone with access to the Pit that rescued him, but no, we had DC’s favorite brown, treacherous, venomous, female punching bag. 

Bruce Wayne, The Batman

Bruce fits well into the father, enforcer, and logical man slot in Jason’s hysterical story. There is a history of ownership throughout women’s history when it comes to their subjugation to men. Women actually couldn’t be put on trial before the witchcraft genocide because they weren’t seen as legally a person. Their male owner would be put on trial instead. Women would go from being owned by their fathers to their husbands after entering marriage, the most dangerous woman being one who isn’t owned (orphaned, widowed). Bruce does treat (and even thinks) about Jason like he’s something that he owns. He’s his protege, his son, and his responsibility. 

The narrative function of Bruce as a perpetrator in Jason’s story. 

“The perpetrator asks the bystander (reader) to do nothing. He appeals to the universal desire to see, hear, and speak no evil. The victim, on the contrary, asks the bystander (reader) to share the burden of pain. The victim demands action, engagement and remembering” (Herman). 

Bruce does remember what happened to Jason. He keeps a permanent memorial to his dead son. However, this doesn’t translate into any kind of tangible action. He doesn’t do anything to actually stop the murderer who took his son’s life and he continues to throw child soldiers at the problem of crime (how many children have died for the sake of his no-kill rule at this point?). When met with the reality of his inaction, he fits into the perpetrator’s role like a glove:

“In order to escape accountability for his crimes, the perpetrator does everything in his power to promote forgetting. Secrecy and silence are the first line of defense... If secrecy fails, the perpetrator attacks the credibility of his victim. If he cannot silence her absolutely, he tries to make sure that no one listens... From the most blatant denial to the most sophisticated and elegant rationalization... One can expect to hear the same predictable apologies: it never happened; the victim exaggerates; the victim brought it upon herself; and in any case it’s time to forget the past and move on. The more powerful the perpetrator, the greater his prerogative to name and define reality, the more completely his arguments prevail” (Herman). 

I think it is simply fact at this point that Bruce is the head patriarch in Gotham if not, arguably, in the entirety of DC. That level of power in the narrative cannot be ignored, especially when faced with the very real, screaming voice of a victim that Bruce uses all of that power to silence. Bruce, because of his status as patriarch, default protagonist, and self-insert for the toxic male power fantasy, has the ultimate power to name and define reality. Especially to the reader. Bruce doesn’t deny what happened to Jason, because that’s physically impossible to do. But what he does do is ensure that no one listens to Jason, discredits him, and rationalizes his own inaction, actions of violence towards Jason, and victim blames.

Here’s Bruce using the most base form of denial and victim blaming:

After this panel, Bruce also revokes Dick’s access to his childhood home simply for asking a question.

This theme extends to other members of the batfam because of Bruce’s narrative power over them. It’s why we can’t have Dick, Steph, Babs, or even Damian step in and relate to Jason’s trauma or vindicate him. Even when we, the readers, can see parallels and wonder why these conversations or bonds aren’t forming. Jason HAS to be a lone wolf because he is hysterical and a threat to the system of power. This also shows why most of his runs in group settings outside of the batfam fall apart or fall flat. If he was humanized by any other character or had his trauma validated in any actionable way, it would be recognizing the failure of the toxic male power fantasy. The readers are not supposed to see the flaw in this system that allows the bodies of children to pile up and sympathize with one of their voices. It would be a crack in the system of power that exists not only in the source material, but very much within our real world.

Side note: Jason is allowed to interact with others in a wholesome and validating way when he no longer threatens the systemic power of Bruce. When he is silenced by the writers and plays the “nice victim” (like Babs does), he is allowed connection. Only when his healing is done in a way that doesn’t demand action and is only his personal responsibility (gotta love the rampant individualism). If he is hysterical, demands action, and asks for someone to be held accountable for his death, he is shoved away into a lone wolf box. Examples: Gotham Knights (from my very basic understanding, I haven’t played the game, only seen play throughs) and WFA. Victims are acceptable if they do their healing in a neat little box and stay there, but hysterics are the ones who step outside of that box.

Red Hood, The Political Voice of Hysteria and Trauma

Red Hood is deeply political in terms of hysteria and trauma. Herman stated that victims and those that authentically care for them or listen to them intently (whether that be interpersonally, clinically, or professionally) are silenced, ostracized, and discredited. Survivors need a social context that supports the victim and that joins the victim and witness in a common alliance. On an interpersonal level this looks like family, friends, and loved ones. However, trauma is systemic and the social context mentioned above must also be given on a wider social scale. For this to be done, there had to be systemic change and political action. Jason had the interpersonal social support and witnesses to his trauma ripped from him by Bruce. So, we see him move onto a systemic level of addressing trauma in his own political way. He literally cannot escape Bruce and this constant trigger because of Bruce’s philosophy and just... fucking power to define reality... being re-enforced constantly in DC no matter where he tries to go. So, he tries to heal by taking the systemic issue of perpetrators who cannot be held accountable or have fallen through the cracks of accountability into his own hands in a very personal way. A one man political movement.

Whether his methods are moral or ethical doesn’t really matter in the overall framing him as hysteric. He simply has to be opposed by the male power fantasy in some significant way. This shows that the goals, needs, and work towards victim’s and the marginalized’s freedom is dangerous, doomed to fail, and ultimately unethical if the victim is framed in a villain light instead of the more pathetic/pitiable iteration of hysteria. 

You can see how this is not only problematic but also reflects the real world values instilled in arguments against human rights movements (which are intrinsically tied to victims rights). Defunding the police is dangerous, the MeToo movement is dangerous, abolition is dangerous, trans rights are dangerous, etc etc etc. Think of the victims voices tied to each of these movements and how they are integral to the real change offered by these political movements. You can’t have human rights violations without creating victims. And you can’t have political movements surrounding human rights without listening to victims.

We can also see how the individuals within these movements are ostracized, villianized, and often silenced (sometimes ultimately silenced with death) because they rally against the systems of power that victimized them. The framing of traumatized, vulnerable people as hysterical is integral to upholding the system of power that traumatizes and harms them.

A popular comic book movie adaptation that highlights the importance of Jason’s hysterical framing and how it impacts the political narrative/how he is written is V for Vendetta. To be fair, it received an insane amount of backlash by conservatives (not within leftist or liberal spaces) for V’s methods in over throwing fascism, but only because of the movie’s release date being so close to 9/11. V and Jason have many parallels, it’s only the lack of hysterical framing that makes V more palatable to the viewer. We are told, not shown through behavior, that V is traumatized by his past and he does not pick a fight with the protagonist that functions as a toxic male power fantasy. He is the protag, with his version of Bruce being men who are not framed in a sympathetic, heroic, or relatable light. 

Additionally, there is literally an unemoting mask standing between the viewer and V, whereas Jason takes off his helmet to allow the reader to see every aspect of his trauma and pain. V readily dehumanizes himself into an idea, rather than a person. Whereas Jason screams to be seen as a person in a very hysterical way. So, we can see how the framing of Jason as hysteric against the logical, heroic man greatly impacts how the audience reads him when contrasted by a very similar political story/character who uses similar (and arguably more violent) methods to meet his ends. (This just made me realize that I would die for a Jason adaptation written by the Wachowski sisters). 

Jason’s work as Red Hood is seeped in leftist, victim, and community centered politics. His portrayal as a hysterical antagonist (at best an anti-hero) is rooted in misogyny and upholding patriarchal, capitalist, and the prison industrial complex systems of power. He is the righteous embodiment of “the personal is political” for victims. Even his Robin run draws attention to and shows correct, angry reactions to the system of patriarchal power in sexual violence.

Patriarchal Writing and Enforcement

Jason is girl-coded and hysterical because he’s supposed to be emasculated, discredited, and disliked by the reader. He serves the narrative function of boosting the toxic male power fantasy of Bruce and in doing so, the writers use one of the oldest tropes in the book (one that we have all subconsciously been taught since birth) to get the reader on their side. Make him a hysterical woman. 

References: for anyone interested in furthering their understanding of any of the concepts mentioned above and to, you know, use sources for my own writing.

Barstow, A. Witchcraze

Bondi, L., Burman. E. Women and Mental Health: A Feminist Review

Freud, S. The Aietology of Hysteria

Gilman, C. P. The Yellow Wallpaper

Herman, J. Trauma and Recovery

Ussher, J. The Madness of Women.

Van der Kolk, B. The Body Keeps the Score

Wilkin, L., Hillock, S. Enhancing MSW Students’ Efficacy in Working with Trauma, Violence, and Oppression: An Integrated Feminist-Trauma Framework for Social Work Education

#jason todd #bruce wayne #hysteria #dc #meta #clovis writes #listen I regularly have to write 20-30 page research papers on therapy theory and mental health #I'm so sorry this is so long but it is actually impossible to shorten it #one of my profs once said I write in a way that's academic but still readable and know the meaning of brevity #and I was like: sir I've never been accused of brevity before #this took 3 days to write and get my thoughts straight on it #remember: you asked for this lol #holy fuck the word count on this is nearly 5k I'm so sorry #I literally can't proof read this because my brain has shut off from reading this post #there's probably some stuff misspelled and also missing from this but I'm done with it lol

[everlastiingiimmortals]

A Review of the Aeons: Insight into Jing Yuan's Perspective

Jing Yuan is an interesting character to me as someone who is at a crossroads between multiple Aeons. As a Xianzhou native, he is undeniably tied to Yaoshi -- his existence, in effect, is entirely thanks to them. As a Cloud Knight and more importantly an Arbiter-General, Jing Yuan not only aligns himself with Lan's goals but is a representation of the Hunt. And yet Jing Yuan himself does not stride upon the Path of the Hunt, but rather the Erudition. What does this mean for him? How has this impacted his outlook? How has it affected his life? These are a few of the questions I want to address, looking at it from the angles of his nature, his alignment, and his personality respectively.

I do want to make a strong clarification here before getting into the thick of it and reaffirm some things: any and all ties Jing Yuan may have to Nous are entirely my own headcanon and speculation. He has no explicit relation to Nous in game aside from being an Erudition character with respect to game mechanics.

So the first and most obvious thing to look at is Jing Yuan's nature. As a member of the Homo celestinae species (which, mind you, should be a species, not a subspecies, because a subspecies would be Homo sapien celestinae - sincerely, an ecology major) Jing Yuan has an immortal body thanks to the blessings of Yaoshi that precede even his time. There's a deep irony that comes with the existence of the Xianzhou Alliance as their goal is to destroy the very thing that effectively defined their existence. One could consider every single Xianzhou native to be a child of Yaoshi, in a sense. Most would not like that association. Jing Yuan himself actually... isn't affected it. He's well aware of the reason for his existence and that the birth of the Xianzhou cannot be removed from Yaoshi. In fact, Jing Yuan is also very aware of the good that can come of the Path of the Abundance. This is reflected in his desire to become a Galaxy Ranger as a child; he didn't start out hating Yaoshi despite being of the Alliance. That hatred was very much taught (and not unreasonably so). He certainly doesn't think favorably of Yaoshi -- he has been deeply affected by their Abominations, after all, and as an Arbiter-General he is also obligated to uphold the beliefs of the Alliance and protect the Xianzhou. What Jing Yuan doesn't like is the parallels between him and Yaoshi. Dealing with the Abundance as much as he has, naturally, leads to an intimate understanding of his enemy regardless of if he is happy about it or not. He understands the nature of Yaoshi's benevolence, and combined with his nightmare, he's very much unsettled by the idea of himself being associated with Yaoshi by way of his virtues, of his giving and self-sacrificial demeanor. I think... in a way, he can empathize with Yaoshi, to some extent, and that is what bothers him the most. Does he agree with the Abundance or align with their Path? No, of course not. But that does not mean he cannot see the reason for their existence, just as much as he can see the reason for their destruction. I think any interactions between him and Yaoshi, if they'd happen, would be nothing but tense and borderline hostile at the very least, but I'd also love to see how Jing Yuan would react to having to face the reason for his existence, the entity he's trying to destroy, the embodiment of his own values.

On the other side of the same coin, while Jing Yuan reflects the gentler aspects of Yaoshi, he also represents Lan as one of the Arbiter-Generals. He can be seen almost as an extension of Lan themself, along with the other Arbiter-Generals and the Marshal. We don't know if there are any Emanators of the Hunt, but if there were then the Arbiter-Generals would be the obvious choice (it's in the name!), much like how Nanook's Emanators are the commanders of their army. It seems like when the Arbiter-Generals speak, they do so on behalf not just of their respective ship, or the Alliance as a whole, but also on behalf of Lan when it comes to the other Aeons. Whether Lan assists them outside of affairs that deal specifically with the Abundance is unknown currently given that their entire existence revolves around eliminating the Abundance, and I believe this is ultimately left up to interpretation until we get more information, but we do know that Lan responds to the Alliance's call and is ultimately loyal to them, as they draw their power directly from the Hunt and not just their Path, so I don't think it's too far of a stretch to say that enemies made of the Alliance are also made of Lan themself -- but I digress. I do think it's very likely that Jing Yuan is one of seven Emanators of Lan, given that he states that no one can enter the Luofu without him knowing unless they are assisted by an Emanator of another Aeon. He's directly blessed by Lan, and I think this leads to him having heightened instincts and senses (which were already sharp to begin with!) to truly embody the idea of the Hunt. I like to think, too, that Lan chooses the Arbiter-Generals through a sign, whether it be light shining down on them or otherwise, rather than the generals being chosen through regular military promotion (more about this later). This makes the most sense with my previous analysis on the Arbiter-Generals and their pretty heavy overlap with the other Commissions. What this does is give the Arbiter-Generals a very credible status of divinity, quite literally directly given to them by Lan themself. ...However, it's important to note that Jing Yuan never desired this status. I've been wondering why he became a General if he never wanted to in the first place, and while I do believe he did so out of the love he had for the lost members of the HCQ and his love for the Luofu, I also think it makes a lot of sense if he didn't have a choice, because Lan chose him in the wake of Teng Xiao's death. Both led to this sense of obligation. How does one possibly reject everything they align themself with, after all? Jing Yuan's always admired the myths of the Hunt, ever since he was young. But as he grew and aged and continued to live, that admiration of heroic freedom slowly shed form and became an acute awareness of the ultimate doom of the Xianzhou. Either they collapse and burn out pursuing the Path of the Hunt (three of their ships have already fallen, after all), or they somehow succeed in their eternal, unending endeavors and the Reignbow Arbiter's reason for being ceases to exist. Then what? What happens after that? What happens to the Xianzhou? ...Can he just leave after understanding all that? He doesn't know. He doesn't think so. So he remains as one of Lan's Emanators dutifully, anticipating not just his own eventual end but that of the Alliance and the Hunt as well.

It's funny, then, to think about the fact that my Jing Yuan did reject an Aeon before he was selected as Lan's Emanator. At this point I've made no secret about the association I've drawn between Jing Yuan and the Erudition. Despite being an Emanator of Lan, he strides upon the Path of Erudition -- here I want to make an important distinction, because the wiki is a little misleading: the game never once states that Emanators must be initially, or subsequently, walking along the same Path as their Aeon, at least not as far as I could see (please feel free to correct me if this is not the case, though!). We also know that it is possible to not just change Paths, but also embrace the power of multiple Paths at once. I believe this to be the case for Jing Yuan; he just aligns more strongly with the Erudition in his personal philosophy, but overall greater encompasses the idea of the Hunt due to his role (and lets be real, gameplay wise he can be just as good as a Hunt character when fighting one on one, holy shit). Jing Yuan attracted the attention of Nous early, due to his natural affinity for tactics and his intelligence, and I've discussed the moment he caught Nous' gaze, and subsequently given an Eye of Nous much like Fu Xuan. This was, effectively, not just a gift but also an invitation to Nous' Temple: one that Jing Yuan rejected due to the horrors he foresaw upon catching Nous' gaze. I've mentioned this in a prior headcanon post, but due to his rejection and the fact that Jing Yuan also did not ask for the Eye, it is incomplete and does not grant him visions. I think that Jing Yuan very well could have joined Ruan Mei as a member of the Genius Society, had he not rejected the key to the Temple! But he did. Honestly, Jing Yuan holds no insignificant amount of dislike for Nous and the Genius Society; he knows there's no point, but he still holds a slight grudge against Nous for burdening him with that eye -- he's only human, after all, or at least he'd like to be that way. He often wonders if things would have been different at all if he hadn't foreseen what would have happened to the HCQ... if he would have ended up blaming himself less or not. There's no point in thinking about that either, but he occasionally does. He dislikes the Genius Society for an equally petty reason -- he thinks they're almost all snobs, truthfully, far too engrossed in their searches for the answers they seek to hold any compassion for others, and he simply cannot agree with that kind of mentality. Stephen Lloyd is perhaps the one that Jing Yuan would bear no disdain towards. So, then, why does he still stride upon the Path of Erudition, or rather how does he do so while representing the Hunt? It's simple: his wisdom and foresight is what has led to the Luofu's survival and subsequent prosperity and fame. His wisdom and ability to recognize threats are best resolved by keeping them from happening in the first place earned him the attention of both Aeons, as worthy of being a member of the Genius Society and, later, worthy of leading one of the flagships of the Xianzhou.

With all these close ties to the gods themselves, it's no surprise that Jing Yuan is, in effect, a very divine character; this is something I've repeatedly made a point to emphasize out of character and also in character. I will state once again that Jing Yuan's divinity was imposed upon him, and this has led to Jing Yuan... often feeling like he does not belong to himself. He is not his own person. His eyes do not belong to him. His purpose and role in life does not belong to him. His mortality and existence do not belong to him. Jing Yuan is rather neutral about his opinions on the Aeons, speaking on them from a mostly objective standpoint and obviously from the side of Lan when talking about Yaoshi, but behind closed doors he may express some bitterness about them -- Lan included. He is wise enough to recognize that every single Aeon is a double edged sword, some with a far more wicked blade than others, and he has suffered at the hands of them multiple times, both from blessings and from curses. He's seen the destruction that is left in the wake of the Reignbow Arbiter's Lux Arrow, after all. There is no difference between salvation and destruction where Lan is concerned. And in the eyes of the Destruction, it does not matter why or how something is destroyed, only that it is. What does it matter if the Paths of the Hunt and the Destruction end up aligning if it's for the mutual goal of eliminating another? This is why Jingliu's speech at the end of the 1.3 story arc resonated with me so much, and why I do think that Jing Yuan will ultimately end up forming some sort of alliance with her and Luocha. To become the playthings of the gods, caught within their contests for power and dominance, is to be doomed to their whims, and he knows this. All one can do is try to stay ahead of the tide. Jing Yuan feels like there is little possibility to try to remove himself from this contest now without threatening the safety of the entire Luofu. He cannot break free anymore, and he hates it. His path was mapped out for him the moment he caught Nous' eye, likely before then, and he shares a similar mentality to Fu Xuan that fate... cannot be changed. At the very least, it takes someone truly, truly extraordinary to be able to do so.

He is not that person. He cannot be that person without putting everything he worked for at risk.

#//about; (DIVINE FORESIGHT) #((2.2k words.... holy shit i'm done)) #((i'm ngl i think my eyes glazed over multiple times writing this but PLEASE ENJOY IT TOOK SO FUCKING LONG)) #((i'm v proud of this asldkfjhalsfdkjh)) #Willow Rambles

[kimbapisnotsushi]

you seem to have a good read on HQ and your takes are great, so i have a question...and if you'd rather not go there, please ignore this! but i see oikawa get called "arrogant" quite often and i'm curious, would you say he is? what is it that makes people think that? imo he has a plenty of flaws, but i truly don't think arrogance is one of them. self-centered, sure, but not arrogant i think. i'm open to being wrong, i'm just legit so confused by that particular criticism, it makes me doubting my reading comprehension. i feel like that one post that's like "free my man, he didn't do that. he did a lot of other stuff tho" LOL. if you do answer this, then thanks for your time!

oh, dear anon. this is a very very big question and i'm honored you think i am capable of providing an answer that does it justice!! i don't consider myself an oikawa expert by far, but i'll do my best because he's still very beloved to me, and i hope whatever i say helps!

(but also - maybe take what i say with a grain of salt LMAO)

anyways, to get the main point out of the way: i completely agree that oikawa isn't arrogant! i actually haven't seen any commentary about that myself (bless!!!), so i can't say for sure why some people might think that, but my guess is that they think his pridefulness = arrogance — they think that the confidence he has in himself and seijoh contributes nothing to their actual power and is utterly meaningless if they don't win, especially in the face of ushijima. which, like, come on. what kind of captain would he be if he wasn't confident in himself and his teammates? is he supposed to tell them that they're going to lose??? is he supposed to discourage their hard work and effort???

or maybe it's because oikawa acts like he's all that, but doesn't have anything to show for it. who does he think he is? what does he think his pride is worth? what right does he have to go around making grand declarations when he has nothing to his name?

(which isn't entirely true, either, but we'll get into that, promise.)

now, do i think that he can, occasionally, be flippant, shallow, and/or petty? yeah, sure. he's got one hell of a personality about it. even iwaizumi says as much. oikawa is great at being a little shit. it's one of my favorite things about him!

but is oikawa genuinely arrogant, or self-centered? well . . . i don't think so.

see, here's the thing about oikawa: he knows he's good, but he doesn't think he's good enough. i think it'd be easiest to really explain what that meant if we broke this down into two separate parts, so let's give it a go, shall we?

(buckle up, friends, because it's about to get LONG. also: TIMESKIP SPOILERS!! and there's a tldr at the start of the tags because. WOW.)

so, first things first: if people are calling oikawa arrogant, then i'm like 99% sure that they don't actually know what the word "arrogant" means.

"arrogant" is used to describe someone full of themselves. it's used to describe someone conceited and pompous. it's used to describe someone so assured of and invested in their self-importance that they don't care for other people, and if it seems like they do, then it's usually wildly off the mark and still serves to inflate their own egos.

oikawa has never once been like that. he's been pretty much the exact opposite, in fact.

and yeah, sure, by his third year of high school, he knows he's good at volleyball, and that's fine! it's perfectly all right to claim you're good at something if you have the skills/experience to back it up. confidence is healthy as long as it isn't in overabundance, and we actually see a lot of this throughout the series!

(not to mention that this was where ushijima fell short. he was overflowing with confidence. he did not believe, for even a single second, that hinata shouyou and his meager, scrappy little flock of crows could beat him.

but oikawa? he knew. he knew what it looked like to make something bloom.)

the key to oikawa's confidence that made him better was that he could pinpoint others' strengths and weaknesses just as well as he could with his own. and (bear with me, please, i might get kind of boring here bc it's nothing that hasn't been said in the manga before) i don't mean it in the way we see the coaches or more analytical players do, as observations to be taken advantage of by everyone else; i mean that in the sense of how vital it is to his position as a setter. that was always the biggest difference between oikawa and kageyama: no matter how much more raw talent kageyama had, no matter how much better oikawa believed him to be, kageyama, especially in the beginning, struggled to do what oikawa could with a team. kageyama struggled to bring out the best in each player. and it wasn't because he didn't know how -- oikawa freely admitted that kageyama had the skill for it, that kageyama, once he got his shit together, could win against him -- it was because kageyama didn't have that same confidence in himself.

(not until much later, anyways. but that's another story, for another time.)

so, oikawa's confident. he knows he's good. he can bring out the best in each player. he's got a killer serve (and a killer smile!), a mind for tactics that borders on machievallianism, and cherishes the trust he is given like it's something precious. his coaches let him lead without leaning on them. his team has the utmost respect and admiration for him. he has a reputation. from karasuno to shiratorizawa to the whole of miyagi -- there is not a single character who knows oikawa tooru and would believe that he is, in any way, bad at volleyball.

but it's not enough. despite all of that, oikawa still doesn't think he's good enough. and that, friends, brings us to the second point.

oikawa tooru is nothing if not passionate.

so were the others, of course. kageyama kept going after his grandfather's death. hinata kept going while being a nobody from nowhere with no one to back him up. atsumu kept going while osamu didn't. it's not even about just those who went pro -- kenma, kuroo, noya, and everyone else found things that they were passionate about and kept going with it. the entire story revolves around loving what you do and trying to keep that love alive, and, sometimes, that can be really, really difficult when it seems like it doesn't love you back.

oikawa was so insecure over kageyama to the point where he nearly decked the poor kid. oikawa got crushed by ushijima-- who kept telling him that his team was not good enough, that his choices were not good enough, that there was nothing good enough to be proud of -- for years in a row. oikawa was taught that there would always be someone better than him no matter how skilled he was, but if he let that stop him then he didn't fucking belong on the court in the first place.

oikawa tooru is intimately acquainted with not being good enough, but he keeps trying to be. he keeps going. he tries to keep the love alive even if he's not loved back. he pushes and practices and takes a plane far from home to become even better. even if he doesn't have the skill, even if he doesn't have the talent, even if he doesn't have the love -- he still has his pride. and what does that mean, in the end? how far does that take him?

in the end, oikawa tooru walks across a world stage and sees people who believed in him on the other side and calls it a family reunion. in the end, he gets to play the volleyball that reminds him of why he loves it and how it gives him so much love back. in the end, his pride is unyielding and unbreakable, a product of the forge. he molded it with his own two hands. he will not let it falter so easily.

arrogance would not have taken oikawa tooru this far. i hope this has proven that he is anything but.

remember: instinct is something you polish. talent is something you make bloom. and never, ever let anyone else tell you what your pride is worth.

#tldr: oikawa 's confident in himself but (believing that there will always be someone more talented) is always striving to become better #ANYWAYS #i know this one's a bit different from the itachiyama post where i analyzed each panel but like #that was REALLY hard to do for this one since there were so many good ones i could use!!! #so i ended up just smashing 2-3 panels together that i thought were best representative of each point i wanted to talk about #and then just diving deep into the whole thing #if i had done it the first way we would have been here FOREVER #literally that's why it took so long i kept deleting and rewriting and going 'holy shit how the fuck do i write this' #'how can ANYTHING i possibly say do justice to oikawa tooru' #i hope i did a good job and i hope this helped anon!!! #i genuinely think this is the most insane thing i have ever written so thanks for that i guess #oikawa tooru #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu meta #sou says stuff

[siriusblack-the-third]

oooh is it Holi tomorrow? :DD can you give us some ideas or headcanons about James celebrating Holi with his parents/Sirius/Harry? <33

Honestly, depending on a few factors, everyone celebrates Holi on a different day (the traditions for Holi are different depending on the sect of Hinduism and region of celebration as well). Also, North Indian होली and Maharashtrian होळी (search up the differences in pronunciation, it's a bit hard to describe) are two completely different religious holidays. The Hindi होली (ho-lee) is equivalent to the Marathi "ranga panchami" (ranga- colour, panchami- fifth day of a lunar cycle). As far as I know, the Marathi होळी doesn't have an equivalent.

The traditions I'm going by are my family traditions— the Marathi traditions of my region— so i hope you enjoy. Let's goooo!

Oh yeah, this is before Harry turns eleven and goes to Hogwarts.

The day of होळी signifies the first day of spring in Maharashtra. Every year, the members of the Black-Potter family start the day by watching the sunrise together with cups of spicy chaha (marathi for chai).

The day is pretty much the usual, except for food. James cooks up a storm in the kitchen, making all the pancha pakwaan (pancha- five, pakwaan- dishes) with puran poli (a sweet flatbread), three different vegetables, rice, amti (somewhat like daal, either drunk from the bowl or poured over rice), and a traditional dessert. They invite the Weasleys, the Marauders and the Longbottoms over, and have a veritable feast for lunch and dinner. A very chaotic affair, but the Black-Potters love it.

All three of them absolutely adore panchamrut (pancha- five, amrut- nectar of the Gods. It's made of five ingredients- milk, ghee, sugar, curd, honey). Once James is done with his pooja and the naividya (the first morsel/sip of any food/drink is always offered to the Gods), the three of them pounce on the drink with all the vigour of someone who hasn't had anything to eat for days.

As the evening draws closer, Harry, the Weasley kids, Neville, and Lily and Remus out to the woods that surround the house and collect dried wood for. Meanwhile, James, Sirius and Peter gather the panchamrut and a bite each of the pancha pakwaan, and ready the porch for lighting a safe fire with the help of the Molly, Arthur, Augusta, Alice and Frank.

Just as the sun sets, the bonfire is lit, and the blaze reaches high into the sky within minutes, helped along by magic. Everyone sits around it in a circle, closing their eyes and praying— the fire signifies the destruction of the bad energy of the previous year and the purification of the soul for a better new year. Holi is the first day of spring, a mark of new beginnings, a symbol of clean slates and fresh starts. The Holi fire is where you throw all your baggage of the last year so it burns till it is gone, to prepare yourself for the upcoming year.

The pancha pakwaan and panchamrut are poured into the fire to loud cheers from the children, and then the real festivities begin. Everyone walks around the fire in a circle, howling at the top of their lungs. The sounds are slightly terrifying, especially when the darkness really sets in and the only light is the massive bonfire, but Harry loves the ferality of the entire thing. It's primal, the way the war cries rise up with the fire, echoing throughout the massive grounds of Potter Manor like the echoes of screaming ghosts.

Sometimes, Harry, Ginny and the Weasley twins start war dances instead of the howling. Those times, Bill and Charlie eagerly join in along with James, Lily and Alice, and the hard and fast thumping of their feet on the packed mud porch makes it seem like an earthquake is cracking the ground open.

Other times, they write their mistakes, insecurities, bad thoughts and regrets of the past year onto slips of paper and throw them into the fire, to signify the new start. Last year does not matter anymore; it is done and you cannot change it. You can have a new beginning, though, and Harry vows every year that he will be a better person.

James loves these times, where everyone he cares about is close to him and glowing with happiness. Holi is his favourite festival, because it is the day he and Sirius kissed for the first time. It is the day he remembers with fondness— childhood years spent with his parents and grandparents and cousins in a crowded wada (kind of like a palace but the size varies from anywhere between four bedrooms to like 70), sneaking panchamrut from under his mother's nose, dancing Garba around the fire with his Gujju friends in India, the day the Potter family first moved to Britain right before his 11th birthday. People expect his favourite festival to be Diwali or Ganpati Chaturthi because they are loud and huge and phenomenal celebrations, but his favourite is this— all his favourite people in the same place with the same happy smile and the same traditions that he loved when he had blood family.

Holi is a festival for families and loved ones, and the Black-Potters have a lot of love to go around. Family isn't defined by blood, after all.

#sirius black #harry potter #james potter #prongsfoot #bambibelle #marauders headcanon #this took such a long fucking time bro #i had no idea what to write and what not to write #and english is such an inadequate language #so many Marathi words that are untranslatable uGH #holi #marathi holi #होळी #desi harry potter #desi james potter #indian harry potter #indian james potter #indian festival #im sorry it took such a long time to answer but yeah #hope you like it!!!

[rosietrace]

『 Camellias and Hydrangeas 』

Ocs featured: Victoria Shard, Sarah Marigold(@mintychocolate04), Aldrich Edelweiss(@revolllutionary/@revivemyreverie)

Mentioned: Kiara Rhys, Cosette De Sade(Both by @littleunknowncheesecake)

Pairing: Victoria x Aldrich

Synopsis: Sarah doesn't trust Aldrich. But when it comes to whatever antics he's in, Victoria doesn't bat an eye.

Warning(s): Why the fuck is this so long, Aldrich being Aldrich, Victoria being... Victoria, Sarah being overprotective, possessive behavior, sending a literal heart as a gift, implications of murder, the word count for this somehow concerns me, potentially REALLY ooc, but hey, pretty words! Aldrich only saying ‘witch’ twice, she didn't fix him she just made him worse /j /j

{ Apologies for any out of character moments }

[ Reblogs > Likes ]

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▹     †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤† Victoria Shard, the beautiful manipulator

Sarah had just finished her assignments in Ignihyde and was ready to visit her beloved cousin in Pomefiore.

Every time she did this, none can deny the excitement in her eyes. While it's true that she isn't one to smile a lot, there's always a certain glint in her eyes that tells you just what she feels about anything.

And in this case, the glint meant that she was unashamedly excited to spend time with her cousin. Perhaps a spar was in order? There were too many options, and that only made the sparkle of Sarah's eyes brighter.

I can't wait to see Vivi-chan! Sarah thought. It has been a while since we last spent some time together…

That actually got Sarah wondering: Why was Victoria so occupied recently? Usually, she'd always have some time to spare when it comes to spending time with her cousins.

But nowadays she's so occupied with more ‘pressing matters,’ or so she claims.

Apparently, Sarah not only wanted to spend time with Victoria - but also wanted to get to the bottom of why she's been so busy lately.

When she arrived in Pomefiore, she soon got her answer.

Sarah felt her breath catch in her throat. An unsettling feeling washed over her, and Sarah had the distinct feeling that she wasn't alone.

Suddenly, she saw an arrow fly at her.

Startled, Sarah unsheathed her sword and sliced the wooden end of the arrow in half before it could pierce her.

A soft sigh was heard. Sarah whipped her head toward the direction of the sound. “Who's there?” she demanded.

“You're awfully paranoid, aren't you?” Aldrich emerged from the darkness of the forests, a bow in his hands with a quiver on his back.

Sarah lowered her sword but didn't lower her guard alongside it. “Who….?” she couldn't get the full question out, but Aldrich knew exactly what she was asking.

His expression was a smile - one that didn't quite reach his eyes. “Aldrich,” he said. “Aldrich Edelweiss.”

That name feels familiar. Sarah thought, trying to pinpoint where exactly she had heard of that name before.

And then it hit her.

“You're…. Vivi-chan's boyfriend?”

Aldrich let out a chuckle. “Oh my, ‘Vivi-chan’? I assume you mean my darling savior, yes?”

“.... Savior?” Sarah tensed up a bit. Why is this guy so unsettling to talk to?

“I assume you're one of her many cousins,” Aldrich approached her, gripping his bow a little tighter. “Sarah Marigold.”

She nodded curtly, trying to avoid showing any signs of unsettled emotions.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough. “Oh dear, are you perhaps afraid of me?” Aldrich chuckled. “Quite perplexing of a predicament for you, indeed. Do tell, what does a suspect such as yourself find so intimidating about me?”

“Listen, you're not making a fragment of sense,” Sarah stepped back a little.

Aldrich shrugged, but even something as casual as that still put Sarah on edge. “I get that a lot.”

Before Sarah could say anything else, Aldrich hummed. “I would've thought that my savior's relatives would have a lot more decorum,” he huffed in disappointment. “I suppose I was wrong, in that regard. It's actually rather unfortunate, considering how my darling savior does everything with such grace and poise.. And yet here you are, having the manners of a witch.”

“Excuse me?” Sarah's eyes narrowed as she clenched her fists.

“You heard me,” The tone in Aldrich's voice shifted. “You have no sense of decorum, and yet you're of noble blood. Most unfortunate, is it not? It almost feels as though you'd stick out like a sore thumb during gatherings between nobles.”

He dropped the bow, stomping on it so hard that it snapped in half, and walked closer to Sarah.

“And it appears to me that you don't even deserve to simply be called a ‘suspect’...” his eyes squint in irritation.

In response, Sarah felt her nails dig into her flesh while her fists clenched. What the hell is this guy on?

A hum was heard, forcing Sarah out of her trance. Aldrich walked past her, not even bothering to pick up the broken bow.

“I'm truly disappointed in you,” Aldrich told her, making Sarah whip her head in his direction.

He turned his back, smiling a bit too unsettlingly.

“All you ever turned out to be was a heretical witch.”

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

“I have not a clue what you're on about, Sarah.”

“Vivi-chan, I'm gonna be completely honest,” Sarah hesitated for a moment. “But I think you're boyfriend is batshit insane.”

“Oh?” Victoria arched a brow. “And what makes you think that, Sarah?”

“Vivi-chan, you have to admit, that guy's figure of speech is…. Questionable,” she shuddered while looking back at the memory. “A-And he called me a witch!”

Victoria giggled in endearment while continuing to embroider. “Ah, classic Aldrich….” her voice was but a gentle whisper. The sheer tenderness of the way she said his name drove Sarah up the wall.

Especially considering that, by her accounts, Aldrich was far from endearing.

“Haven't Kiara and Cosette talked about him to you before?” Sarah asked.

Victoria nodded slowly, concentrating on the golden needle she was using to embroider a camellia - Aldrich's favorite flower.

“They have,” she confirmed. “But as I have told you before: ‘I have not a clue on what you're on about’. There's nothing to be concerned about regarding Aldrich's behavior.”

That was a lie. She knew that Sarah knew that.

But why would she not do anything about his behavior?

Speak of the devil, Aldrich soon approached them, his recently polished boots clicking against the floor. Upon seeing him, Victoria smiled softly - whereas Sarah tensed up.

“My darling savior!” Aldrich exclaimed joyfully. But that smile on his face soon faltered upon seeing Sarah next to Victoria. “And….. Sarah.”

Victoria tilted her head. “I didn't think you two knew each other.”

“Well, we have, actually,” his smile didn't reach his eyes. “She was….. Interesting, to say the least.”

Sarah hummed awkwardly. I could say the same for you, you fucking maniac….

It didn't take long for her to get back up on her feet and give Victoria an apologetic look. “Sorry, Vivi-chan…. But uh,” she sent a look at Aldrich. “I suddenly remembered that I have an errand to run.”

Victoria nodded in understanding. “Understood,” she waved Sarah goodbye, and without another word, continued to embroider. Not even bothering to bat an eyelash when Aldrich took Sarah's place next to her.

“I never saw you as much of an embroiderer,” Aldrich said, revealing the box he had been hiding and placing it upon his lap. “Quite unexpected, actually. A shame that I've never seen you do this before, my darling…”

Victoria hummed in response. “I was always an embroiderer, dear. You just happen to not catch me when I do such things.”

He stifled a chuckle. “I see,” he leaned his head against her forearm. “I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Y'know, so I can see my darling savior doing something utterly adorable.”

Even something as simple as that would've felt unsettling to the students that could hear them. No one had expected Aldrich to fall for Victoria.

Not even Victoria herself.

But did she mind it? Not in the slightest.

She chuckled softly, finally completing her little piece of embroidery. “Well, you needn't wait longer than you have to,” she handed the finished product to him.

Aldrich stared at it, deeply mesmerized by the level of design. Shortly after, he soon realized that it was his handkerchief.

The one that he let her borrow when they first met - and the one she didn't bother to return.

There were two intricate designs at the corners of it. Camellias - his favorite flower.

And hydrangeas - Victoria's favorite flower. Above both, were their initials.

‘A.E’

‘V.S’

His silence was so prevalent that Victoria was under the impression that he didn't like it. She was ready to take it back.

Until Aldrich caught her wrist with his free hand. His gaze was no longer on the handkerchief.

And now on her.

“My dear….”

Victoria's lips parted ever so slightly.

“.... Aldrich?”

Upon hearing her utter his name, he smiled, gently removing his grip on her wrist to gently caress her cheek.

“My savior…” there were practically hearts in his eyes. “So beautiful, so fancifully beguiling, so perfect.. To think, someone such as I had been blessed by the face of a living saint…”

His other hand - the one holding the handkerchief - was now on the other side of Victoria's face. Aldrich stared up at her, adoration filling every piece of the gaze he gave her - As if to say that he couldn't help but feel that way to her. And only her.

Smiling, Victoria mirrored Aldrich's actions as she, too, held his face with her gentle yet slightly calloused hands.

“To be flattered in such a way by an Edelweiss prince,” she giggled, pressing her pointer finger to his nose. “I'm honored.”

Aldrich's smile widened, his face not-so-subtly leaning into her touch. He didn't say anything about it, but he moved the box to the side, so as to avoid dropping it as he relished in her gentle touch.

She glanced at the box, her gaze off of Aldrich for only a dozen seconds or so, and knew immediately that what was inside the box was one of Aldrich's…. ‘Gifts’.

The box was wrapped firmly, and the ribbons that were tied around it were almost certainly made from Edelweiss silks. But no matter how entrancing the design was to her, Victoria didn't fail to notice the droplets of blood on the box.

Small, but not small enough. Certainly not big enough to fit something like a pair of lungs…..

…. But certainly not small enough to not fit a heart.

That was her assumption. She was sure of it. Returning her gaze to Aldrich, her eye softened whilst she lifted his chin. For even the briefest of moments, Aldrich felt his breath hitch, and his cheeks soon dusted with pink.

“Aldrich, my prince….” Her gaze was soft, tender - Yet unwavering. “What is inside that gift of yours, might I ask?”

A soft chuckle left his lips. “My, dear, you and I both know what is inside, by now.”

“For you are someone anyone would steal hearts for.”

That confirmed her suspicions in more ways than one. If it had been anyone else, they'd have run like their life depended on it.

But this was Victoria. Someone who sees the flaws in a person, and accepts them for what they are.

And maybe that was the reason Aldrich adored her so. Because she saw his antics for what they were and welcomed them with open arms.

Victoria hummed, her smile and gaze on Aldrich becoming all the more soft.

Silence was what filled the comforting atmosphere around them. No matter how twisted, how warped both of their mindsets were, one thing remained absurdly clear:

Adoration was what both of them felt. No one knew how they met, nor how they came to fall into each other's arms. And that was okay - So long as, at the end of the day, they find themselves wrapped around one another's arms once more.

“My savior,” Aldrich suddenly spoke, his head now resting on Victoria's chest. “What made you come to love me? To adore me so much, you can't help but spoil me with little to no signs of it ending?”

Wanting to toy with him ever so slightly, she cocked her head to the side, feigning confusion. “I don't quite get what you mean,” she said in a tone of affectionate mockery.

He took the bait for what it was, a knowing smile on his face. “What made you love me,” he began reiterating.

“So devotedly? What was it about me that had entranced you so? What could I have possibly done, in all these many many weeks of being with you, to bring such a loving yet adoring gaze out of the set of sapphires that rest in the sockets of your eyes?”

He let her ruminate on those words, looking deep into her eyes as her lips parted, just as she was about to respond.

Before she could even say anything, Victoria leaned in, pressing her lips against his. And even though he didn't get an immediate response to his question, Aldrich held her face once more, wanting to prolong the kiss for as long as they could all until their lips parted for air.

“.... To answer your question,” she spoke finally, a smile dawning on her face. One that felt different - the kind of different where it made Aldrich's heart melt.

“It all started….” she drawled on the sentence, leaning her forehead against his.

“.... When you joined my serenade.”

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Taglist

🥥 @starry-night-rose • @windbornearchon • @authoruio • @nem0-nee • @fumikomiyasaki • @sakuramidnight15

@revivemyreverie • @revolllutionary • @twsted-princess • @spadecentral • @celiica • @geminiiviolets • @twsted-princess • @oseathepebble • @vaporvipermedia • @vivaresmala • @crazyyanderefangirlfan

#when i tell you how much of a fucking hellscape it was to edit #i love these two but holy fuck they took so long to write 😭 #someone hold me back before I punch Aldrich bc of his speech patter- 💥💥💥 #these two need therapy but its okay #a couple who slays together(literally) stay together HDHSJDHSND #i prolly got Aldrich's character so wrong help 😭 #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #victoria shard #aldrich edelweiss #sarah marigold #mutuals oc #mutuals ocs #oc x oc #twst oc x oc #night raven college #night raven college oc #nrc oc #twst nrc #pomefiore oc #twst ocs #aldrich why are you so hard to characterize #its the way camellias and hydrangeas are omly mentioned a couple times #but it's the title of the fucking oneshot 😭

[butchladymaria]

yknow sometimes i see an artist who’s maybe young or just new post their art online and honestly? i’m so incredibly happy for them?? like you are documenting your journey as an artist and i think that is an incredible thing to share

#some ppl online can be so obsessed with Numbers TM and like while they feel good sometimes i think the act of making and sharing it matters #it reminds me of like. language learning #you can study for a year and feel embarrassed because like. maybe you have a similar grasp on the language to a 5 yr old #but bestie. how long do u think it took the FIVE yr old #and its the same with art #i used to be so hard on myself bc i wasnt drawing at a level that people who did art for 20 years do #but like. i look back on old pictures that i cringed at when i was a kid and im like. holy shit!!!! i was starting to get a grasp on color!! #or shading or form or What Ever!!!!! #and having that physical legacy honestly means the world to me :) #approach art as a thing you learn like language #u are going to fuck up but u dont have to be writing eloquent poetry! u just need to be understood :) #n art is like that too #idk this post has been made probably #but basically: idc where youre at in your artistic journey but you are doing amazing

[boilingheart]

i beat bg3 today but the ending i got for gale soured the entire fucking experience now i have to go back over a hundred hours to go redo this shit so i can get the "good" ending because what i just got simply was NOT IT

#bheart talks #i can't express how devastated i feel #my whole month ruined #don't even want to write anymore #i can't believe the point of no return for him was so fucking long ago i KNEW i should've redone it when i had the chance #that was COLD. CRUEL. #literally feel so empty now. i'm going to spend the next week redoing fuckin everything man #at least lae'zel had such a lovely ending. 12/10 character holy fuck i love lae'zel #but ugh. gale. the one guy i cared about the fucking most. #i got everyone their 'good endings' but he LEAVES ME?? #bg3 spoilers #// #ish #being vague but still #man. maaan. whatever. ugh. i hope at least changing that Specific romance scene in act 3 will get me a different ending #but good god fuckin hell that's so much to redo and it already took me 300+ hours to finish this ONE RUN #i want to cry but i can't

[the-kipsabian]

like i really like tears of the kingdom cause this game is so creative with its ability system

but also im far too dumb for this 💀

#i cant tell you how long the first temple i got to took me. the short answer is FAR TOO LONG #im so stupid holy shit :') #i'd say in my defense its late but nah. nah im just dumb as shit #still enjoying this tho. im gonna take more of a break tomorrow i have a few other things i need to accomplish #and i have a writing itch so we'll be finishing some stuff woo #but yeah im just. im just very fucking dumb lmao #like catch me sitting here as a 30 year old asking how this is a childrens game when i cant sometimes figure shit out 😭 #night is an absolute mess on main

[lilly-white]

Hey, for the Weird Questions for Writers 3, 17 and 18 if you don’t mind?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

My writing ritual is cursed because: - constantly need hot drink therefore constantly need to get up and make hot drink - constantly need comfort food when a Scene is Hard therefore goodbye any healthy eating habits - obsessively getting into a scene means horrid posture & eyes no longer work - sometimes I put a little candle and try to be nice to myself but most times i’m like NO! NO SELF CARE! ONLY SUFFERING

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I really want people to understand the successive waves of invasions in the British Isles and the exact displacements of the Celtic populations there, and also that Gaelic & Brittonic Celtic cultures are two distinct cultures even if there is overlap? Like there is different history & language there? Readers don’t seem to understand this and file my characters under “Irish” or “Scottish” when I’m in an era when Brittonic-speakers still occupy the north of Britain, including Scotland (Pictland at the time), which was only just being colonised by Irish settlers. It is largely argued that the Picts were Brittonic-speakers therefore part of the Brittonic tribes of the isle of Britannia, therefore far more related to the countrymen of Wales & Cornwall than any Gaelic-speaking population. And I know there’s Scottish nationalism and stuff that would counter this argument but I’ve read the damn research and it’s there. You had the isle of Britannia which was largely Brittonic-speaking right up to the northernmost point of Pictland, and then you had Ireland which was Gaelic-speaking. And saying “Scottish” implies a Gaelic culture which is not the case in my series and it drives me up the wall aaaaaaaaahh.

It’s important because anglophones all seem to think that there is one monolithic “Celtic culture” and it’s either “IRELAND, FAIRY CIRCLES AND KILTS”, or it’s whatever the hell Shakespeare and Milton farted out that one time back in the middle ages and I’m like. “Celtic” culture is so, so rich and diverse. But people just smush that shit together, Americans are out here doing “wicca” and “ancient Celtic rituals” of Imbolc/Bealtaine/etc and I’m like, you know those rituals are Irish. In Wales you don’t do that. In Brittany you don’t do that. Gaulish Celts also had their own calendar. Please see us :’) (lol it’s fine i know it’s complicated as shit in reality to untangle what the fuck happened and who are “the Celts”, I’m only just beginning to understand the differences because i’m boobs-deep in celtic studies so, i can’t expect everyone to know the intricacies, but it’d be nice if it were more generally acknowledged when people talk about “something Celtic”, that they specify like, “Irish Celtic”, “Welsh Celtic” etc)

Also fuck all King Arthur movies ever made I just want to put it out there (except potentially that recent Green Knight one? I haven’t seen it yet but the Mabinogion-like madness looks great. Just gotta wince inside every time they set Arthur in MASSIVE GOTHIC ARCHES and HUMUNGOUS 12TH+ CENTURY CASTLES like. If he lived at all it was way before the 10th century you guys. But OK hollywood you really can’t pluck him out of those historically inaccurate castles/cathedrals, you just can’t bothered to get a history consultant, i get it, FINE)

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

So!! I write Viking-era historical fantasy, and I incorporate old Norse magic in this tome of my series. And previously I did NO research (or, really not enough) into the actual historical Norse “magic system” if you can call it that. But in the Poetic Edda you really get a great description of what exists in Norse “spellcrafting”. So I’ve got like a bulletpoint list of the magic system now lol which has helped so much with vocab & imagining how the spells are actually cast.

So, context: one character is in a coma, protags turn to spellcrafting to go and “fetch his mind” from the realm where he’s lost himself. At first I just had my characters sort of go “to high ground” with some “seidr-workers” to perform a chant. This was wrong, because seidr is exclusively divination & “vengeance-seeking”, and is a female craft (if men do it it’s like a huge stain to your character). The “regular magical lore” that everyone can learn is called “fjölkyngi” and there is one such act that is called “spirit-wandering” where your mind basically travels around without your body. So, since my protags are accompanied by sorceresses, I changed the term “seidr-worker” to “Völva” (which I’m unsure about but at least we’re departing from seidr), and the protags actually go out in the realms in the final draft (aka they drink a potion & have a huge shared hallucination lol), whereas in the previous draft they sort of sang and that was it.

The first sign of departure is a squirm in the stomach, as though something were swimming in there. It’s those invisible hands again, shuffling through my insides, like fat fingers in a dice cup trying to fish out the die. My bow slips from my grasp. I bend to retrieve it, and the world bends around me.

Oh… yes, this was how it went. I breathe in and I know that when I breathe out, I will lose my mind; it will fly out like shreds in the wind. I need – need it to be a controlled exit. Controlled.

I glance around to Tamsin. I have to turn my head around so far until I see her, like an owl making the whole rotation. She’s deep in concentration, her hand beating the rhythm by itself; but her body is going limp. She falls slowly, gracefully to her knees beside me, still banging that stick at her wide drum. I know how that feels, how keeping the rhythm is as instinctive as breathing now – thrum, thrum, goes the ceaseless heart.

Tamsin. Tamsin. I need to stay with her. Stay – stay with her. My tagelharpa slides from my lap onto the ground, and I reach out – there’s so much air between us somehow, my arm stretching into it, a brave traveler disappearing into mist. She beats, and beats, and beats the drum, unfocused eyes skating over my palm.

“Tamsin,” I slur. “Ta… come. Take… my hand, take…”

“I don’t,” come the sounds from her drooping mouth, “I don’t feel so good.”

The stick slips, the drum thrums over the ground. Her palm is warm against mine, a downward motion; a slap that weighs like a stone. And then our joint hands are falling, and we are falling after them. The rocky ground underneath us turns to grey water, gulping us under. A leg, a hip, a curl of ginger hair.

We fall.

Everything rushes past us like wind. Whether it be solid ground or open sky; we are as ghosts passing through. Her hand is in mine, golden threads wrapped around our wrists glowing like hunter’s tokens in the woods, showing the way back.

Blue, deep and royal, opens like a yawning mouth around us. I pull her closer until we’re locked in an embrace; perhaps merged, or perhaps we were always one.

I open my eyes, strain my eyelids.

Where is this… where are we?

Voices flutter on the air around us. A host of crackly elder tones, of wrinkled hands drumming, drumming.

Point the direction, son of Ula.

#writing tracker #sorry i took so long to answer this i knew it'd be a long one lol #i chipped away at it ahah #convos #just #neopaganism seems to have popularised and made accessible some shit that then gets labeled 'celtic' #AND IT GETS IN THE WAY OF THE HISTORICAL RESEARCH SO MUCH #because there are SO MANY shitty not-historically-based books out there as a result #same for norse stuff #norse & celtic culture in general just suffer from people wanting 'the vibe' without really diving deeper into the historical texts #and i guess i get pissed off because i have like this cultural dissonance of like 'is this my culture or is this an irish thing again' lol #why settle for shit like wicca when you could learn what people from specific localities actually did #and it's 100% more interesting and whackier than wicca #all these neopagan books be like 'hello i'm the author and i'm going to smack down a bunch of reference-less knowledge' #'i expect you to take me at my word' excuse me but who the fuck are you anyway #when i read the Holy Book of Women's Mysteries i was like WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGG #why are you making shit up #isn't it more interesting to link it to history??? why take historical shit and warp it like that and lace it with your own brainfarts

[willows-peak]

jjk boys reacting to getting a morning wood next to you

ANONNN UR MIND <3333

*･ﾟ✧ JJK Men With Morning Wood

tags: multi character x reader, fem! reader, morning sex, thigh fucking, humping, handjobs, male masturbation, mutual masturbation kinda, the ittiest bit of degradation in toji's

word count: 4.9k wowie zowie

a/n: eek my first request...so happy. this was so fun to write ty anon, im supes sorry it took so long to write! i may have gotten carried away,, also TYSM FOR 100 FOLLOWERS HOLY SHIT 🎉🎉🎉🎉should i do a milestone reward :o

NSFW UNDER CUT! MDNI

⋆｡˚ ♡ gojo: wakes you up and begs to fuck your thighs

Gojo woke with a startle, his body only lending him a few moments to adjust to his surroundings before he had to stifle a low groan into his palm, a dull, overpowering throb sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. He blearily glanced downwards to where he felt the heat starting to pool, his vision being blocked off by your body, pressed tight against his.

You were moving around in your sleep quite a bit, leg thrown across his own and arms wrapped tight around his chest. A quiet noise left his throat as he felt that jolt go through his body again, your hips moving up against his crotch just enough to graze across the head of his clothed cock, making him swear under his breath.

He'd found the culprit for his sudden awakening, but now comes the issue of taking care of it. The combination of sleepiness and horniness was making his head feel foggy, eyes darting around the softly lit room for any kind of distraction he could find for himself. Now he knew why you always made a fuss when he clung to you in bed, it was near impossible to move around and touch himself without waking you.

He bit his lip tightly as he felt his cock jump up in his boxers, eyes drifting back to your body innocently leaning onto his. The time on the clock read '10:20 am', much past the normal time you would wake up normally. You wouldnt be *too* upset if he just..?

"Baby.." he whispered, the arm encompassing your waist shifting forwards to jostle your still body, making you whine against his chest and hug him closer in defiance. "C'mon baby, get up." he said, moving you again and giving him a louder whine in response.

Through his persistence, your head turned up and poking out from the bumps of his naked chest, eyelids lowered as you slowly started to wake up

“G'morning beautiful, sorry to wake you up like this” he chuckled, brushing a small section of hair from your face as he watched your eyes travel downwards, to how his erection poked against your inner thigh. “You don't gotta do anything, just please-” Gojo shuddered as you slowly grinded up against his tent, your soft voice making the fog in his head worsen. 

“Lemme fuck your thighs, alright baby? Please, it'll be quick, I promise” his chest rose up and down in quick, shallow breaths, stilling himself with all his might when the head of his dick slipped snuggly into the dip of your thighs, right underneath your panty clad pussy. “Please, sweet thing? I'll make you cum too, promise” he ran his hands down to your hip, pressing his lips together when you let out the softest moan.

Still too sleepy for talking, you nodded into his collarbones, spreading your legs apart enough for Gojo to slip inside them. Gojo almost moaned at the display in front of him, hushed praises and thanks coming from his lips as he hurriedly slipped down his pants and boxers, sighing in relief when the uncomfortable pressure of his underwear was finally gone.

Gojo's hand made quick work slipping his pants down to mid way down his thighs, moving his fingers to lightly press against the crotch of your panties. “Shit…” he whispered, feeling the way your pussy was already starting to wetten up for him. “Have a good dream about me, huh?” he teased, rubbing slow circles on your clit before replacing it with his length.

He could feel you clench around nothing through the thin fabric, a shudder erupting through his lower half as you slowly closed your legs back around his cock. He groaned under his breath at the warmth enveloping him, chuckling and pulling his hips back. “Shit, you feel good… where’s the lube, wanna make it feel better” he mumbled as he turned his body around to search through the drawers behind him, rummaging around loudly until he triumphantly brought out a small, almost empty bottle of clear liquid.

“Spread your legs again, this’ll make it feel good.” he spoke, a small *click* as he flipped the bottle open and squirted the liquid onto his deft fingers. As he massaged it into the plush of your thigh, his thumb caught underneath your panties, pulling the fabric to the side smoothly. His lubed fingers came to spread your lips open, the cold morning air blowing across your sensitive cunt and making you shiver from the exposure. ‘Satoruu..” you whined, feeling his cock slide up your thigh to rest right against your pussy.

“Close em, fuck, I don’ think I can stay still for long” he whispered, his large body coming to hold your lower half flush with his own. You whimpered and wordlessly followed what he asked, moaning softly at the feeling of his firm cock grazing *so* slowly across your pussy.

“That’s the shit, god.. such a good girl for me” Gojo whispered, his voice sultry and practically dripping with heat as he grinded up into your thighs, his dick gliding across the wetness of your pussy and perfectly rubbing against your clit. “Hold onto me baby, I’m not gonna be gentle.”

⋆｡˚ ♡ getou: kisses you awake and humps your leg

Getou carefully turned himself around, keeping note of your tight grip against his sides and letting himself relax back against the warm sheets as he shifted himself closer to you, his fingers coming to cradle your soft hair as his lips met with your face.

Ever since getting with you, Getou had gradually lost interest in getting himself off, especially in the mornings like this. he could feel the way his half hard erection slowly filled out his pants more as he drunk you in, his lips taking their time to press against each and every crevice of your face.

He could feel you start to stir, your soft eyelashes slowly cracking open to meet with his gaze, lowered with his pupils expanded to cover the majority of his eyes.

He pulled away just enough to give you room to yawn, his hand sliding down the front of his body to grope at his cock as you greeted him, voice crackly and quiet. "Good morning hun" Getou spoke, his voice gruff right against your ear as he resumed his onslaught of kisses.

"Mm-" you tried to get out a word of questioning as to why he was so affectionate, but your lips quickly turned into a home for Getou's, tenderly kissing you. You could feel low, muffled groans being thrust into your mouth as he lifted your face up to meet with his better. “Sugu-” you gasped, pulling away only to be hungrily brought back to his lips.

“Shh, stick out your leg f’ me, baby” Getou ordered, smiling when you wordlessly obeyed him. You gasped again as your knee brushed over his bulge, Getou’s free hand coming down to hold it still. “Feel that pretty girl?” he asked, watching you nod and try to press harder against him. “Think you can help out with this?” he offered, biting his lip in arousal at how quickly you agreed with his request.

His grip on your thigh loosened, just enough to give you the wiggle room to grind down into his erection. His raspy, deep voice filled your ears as he ground his hips down into your hard knee, hand climbing up to grope at your butt and snickering when you squeaked in surprise.

“So nasty..” you murmured, watching with bated breath as he caressed the back of your thigh tenderly. “Only for you, sweet girl… fuck, keep doin that-” he grunted out, your knee pressing up against his balls slightly as he humped against you.

He’d slipped up to grinding against the meat of your thigh by now, whispers of your name escaping from his lips as a small, barely noticeable spot of wetness started to seep through the fabric of his sweatpants. “Sugu, kiss me again, please” you begged, barely needing to wait before geto’s lips came crashing onto yours. His thick, hot tongue eagerly pressed through your parted lips, grinning into the kiss as his tongue twirled around yours.

Your body quickly flushed warmly under his strong hold, feeling how pulsed and ground hard against your thigh, your breath catching in your throat when his tongue dipped up to the roof of your mouth, licking along the length of it before pulling away for a gasp of air. “So fucking sexy, baby girl, god- say my name baby please” Getou moaned, the grinds against your thighs speeding up sloppily. Getou could never control himself when he got like this, so desperate for an orgasm he’d take anything you gave him as long as it got him off.

“Suguruuu-” you drew out your words, half moaning and half whining as he raised your leg to grind back down into your knee. “Yeah, that’s right, say it louder f’ me” Getou purred, panting as his hips thrusted down onto your leg. You spoke his name again, feeling your pussy thump in tandem with your heart at Getou’s husky moans filling the thick air around you two. “Wanna see me cum, beautiful?” he asked, voice lifting as his body grew closer to orgasm already. “Mmmhm, please Sugu lemme see” 

Getou fumbled with the band of his sweatpants clumsily, pulling them down to reveal his flushed red cock, the stain of pre cum much bigger now against the dark gray cotton fabric. You squirmed as Getou slid his lubed cock onto your bare thigh, rubbing down against the warm, soft skin and shivering softly. “Keep your eyes here, got it?” He whispered, forehead pressed against yours as the two of you watched his hips quickly pick up pace against your leg, raunchy sounding groans and chants of your name falling from his lips carelessly.

“Shit- y’ so good to me baby, so fucking good” Getou stumbled out, hair falling around the two of you as his head bowed down in pleasure. “Touch it honey, please, wanna cum for you” You gasped in arousal, warmth pooling down in your stomach as you quickly stroked the base of his dick, letting your fingers caress down onto his balls when your palm reached the bottom. 

“*F-fuck* yes, cumming, I’m cumming, oh my *god*-” Getou groaned loudly, body trembling and curling into itself as his cock throbbed harshly against your thigh, cum leaking out of his tip and coating the skin of your leg and your hand. You slowed your hand down as Getou rode out his orgasm onto you, uneven bucks and thrusts up against you making you whimper under your breath from how hot you felt.

Getou continued to let out broken noises as his orgasm slowly simmered down, weakly grinding down into the puddle of cum he’d made. He let out fast, shuddered breaths as he rested against you, rubbing your thigh and kissing your forehead gently. Getou used his free hand to cup your chin, lifting it up to meet with his foggy, pleasure hazed eyes. “Don’t worry honey…I’m not done yet” Getou purred, gaze falling down to the way your thighs squeeze together.

⋆｡˚ ♡ nanami: jerks himself off to not disturb your beauty sleep

Nanami let out a drawn out sigh as he snuck his hand downwards, carefully scooting the blankets aside for his hand to get under them. He was hard, and badly at that. And while he didn’t at all blame you for this, he’d noticed that he’s started getting more intense morning wood when you’re with him, leading to him having to carefully wrap his hand around his erection and get himself off without waking you up.

He also, never seemed to realize he could simply turn over and plop you down on the empty bed space next to him until after he was done, discreetly wiping himself off and nudging you awake. He has to pretend he doesn’t know why it slips his mind, even though he knows good and well why he chooses this riskier route. 

Some gross, locked away part of him loves thinking about waking you up by feeling his thick cock pressed against your hole through your panties, his hand quickly stroking himself through orgasm as you moaned at the wet feeling of his cum soaking you. Knowing you, he’d be met with the sweetest moan of his name as the after shocks of his orgasm faded over his body, pressing your hips down against his abdomen.

He held back a noise at that thought, his fingers finally ghosting over his pre cum soaked tip, rubbing small circles across the hole of it before working his way down his shaft. He focused on keeping his breathing steady as you dozed off on his chest.

Staring at the ceiling above him as he bit his lip with concentration. You were, thankfully, not a light sleeper, but he’d rather avoid the embarrassing notion of you waking up to him like *this*.

Nanami had done this many many times before, so he knew exactly what to think of to get himself off quick. Not that it ever took long with you, he could count the amount of times he’d nearly cum on the spot when you shimmied your panties off, a string of wetness clinging to your sensitive, pulsating cunt, your swollen clit peeking between the pink-ish folds. The few times when he’d come home tired and ready to either crash into your arms or the bed, when you’d so lovingly take care of him by riding the soul out of his body.

God, he wanted that so badly right now, watching your ass ripple from how hard you were slamming down onto his cock, moaning his name as he felt your hole twitch around him, the unmistakable way you’d quiver and still yourself as you came around his cock, whimpering and squeaking out high pitched little noises as he fucked up into you through your orgasm. 

*‘Later’* Nanami promised to himself, feeling his chest begin to rise and fall rapidly as his hand pumped his cock, holding back sighs and grunts of pleasure as his arm stood as still as possible, his wrist rapidly falling up and down as he fisted his cock.

His hands rapidly squeezed along his thick shaft, desperate to mimic the way your pussy would clamp down so tightly when he bottomed out inside of you.

He was quick to move his hand off your waist, and over his mouth as he nearly moaned out loud at the thought, silently cursing his memory for being so detailed in this moment. He froze stiffly as he felt you start to stir in your sleep, sleepily reaching out before he joined his hand with yours. He sighed shakily, speaking lowly to not wake you further, his hand still grazing across the sensitive veins alongside his cock. “Shh, go back to sleep dear, I’m here.” He could almost laugh at how easily you fell limp back against him, your breathing slowing back down and a one off snore leaving your throat.

He gently held onto your hand, the fist still around his cock now picking up speed, wet sounds being poorly muffled through the blanket as he leaned his head back against the pillows. The adrenaline from just now only fueled onto his racing heart and sensitivity, hand clamping down onto yours as he could start to feel his orgasm quickly approaching him. 

His teeth grit together subtly, holding back swears as his legs tensed up, his fist slapping loudly down against his dick as his stomach tightened. “Shit-” he swore, his orgasm overtaking him before he could prepare for it. His fist rushed up to close down over his dick, covering his tip as it leaked out thick spurts of his cum. He held his breath in his throat as he trembled, pressure mixing wildly with the fading anxiety of being caught and the pleasure of his hand pushing down across his girth.

He let out a deep sigh as fresh air filled his lungs, his heartbeat loud and clear in his ears while his cock started to soften. He breathed out in relief, glancing downwards at your peaceful figure, none the wiser at what he’d done.

Now, to clean this up before you stirred again..

⋆｡˚ ♡ toji: tries to will it away bc he doesnt feel like taking care of it, doesnt work. u wake up and take care of it for him

Toji grunted under his breath at yet another twitch of his erection, rubbing almost painfully against the starch material of his boxers. He'd been laying like this for a while now, achingly hard with you happily snoozing on his chest, unaware of the predicament he was in.

The rational decision to make here would be to wake you up, or even reach into his pants and get himself off, but it was a *little* hard to do that when one shuffle of his leg got him a whine of complaint and you shimmying back up on his body, getting yourself comfy again before falling back asleep.

And since Toji was *such* a gentleman, how could he disturb your beauty sleep and get himself off?

"Fuckin' hell..." Toji spoke softly, the pressure of your warm body laying on top of him, giving his dick the barest hint of stimulation driving him mad, slowly but surely. There was always the idea of grinding his hips up and jerking himself off with the plush of your thighs, but he knew that'd only result in you grumpily waking up from his cum coating you, glaring at him with those sweet eyes of yours, wiggling your pretty hips over his softening cock, and drowsily cursing him out for wasting his load on your leg like that-

A sharp pulse through his dick ceased his thoughts, making him loudly groan into the morning air. He heard you make a small squeak at the sudden sound, looking down and smirking. “Mornin’ princess” he greeted, his low voice carrying through the quiet air, much to your displeasure. “Y'ur hard…” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes and leaning your hips back to cradle over his tent. 

Toji grunted at the feeling of you lazily grinding down against him, laughing and placing his hands behind his head. “Yeah, I am. Whatcha wanna do about it?” his lips cracked open into a toothy grin, watching the way you sleepily glowered up at him, raising yourself up by the arms and pushing yourself backwards on his lap.

You stifled a yawn into your arm, your ass colliding with Toji’s sturdy abs and making you lose your balance for a small second, your eyes shooting open on instinct. “Careful, now” Toji replied, ever the helpful one as he looked you up and down decidedly. Despite your attitude in the mornings, Toji loved when you got like this, moody, sulking from being awake 'so early' as you'd put it, but not ever hesitating to make him cum all over your pretty fingers.

“You couldn't do it y'self?” you asked accusingly, now seated right below Toji's bulge, your smaller hand pressing down against his length. “Nah, you do it better” Toji said snarkily, watching your eyes roll as you slipped down his sweatpants. For as annoyed as you always looked when he woke you up with his hard on, your eyes almost glittered from how wide they'd get, staring at his thick cock poking out from the band of his underwear. 

“Go on mamas, it won't bite.” He teased, groaning under his breath at your hands quickly pulling the last piece of clothing off him, your fingers pinching over his tip to lube his cock with his pre cum. “Dirty girl..” he commented, his voice much too confident for your liking. “Zip it.” you glared up at him, watching him run his pointer and thumb across his mouth in a zipper motion, the silence immediately being broken when you squeezed your hand around the base of his cock.

With a kiss of your teeth, you quickly began jerking him off, your hand twisting up near the tip before slamming back down at the base, making him let out a pleased moan. He knew you loved when he got vocal, so he made sure to put a little more effort into telling you how good you were doing for him. His sugar sweet girl, so cute even when she was being so slutty like this, manicured nails struggling to meet as they stretched over the girth of his fat dick. Your cheeks flushed as you continued, trying to subtly wiggle your hips as his words sent jolts of arousal straight to your cunt.

“Don’t stop, baby, fuck-” Toji let out, head tilting to the side as he never took his eyes off of you. “You better make this up t’ me, Toji” You murmured, cheeks feeling hot at his heavy gaze, making you feel surrounded by him even as you laid across his flexed thighs. “Oh yeah? You want me to fuck you with my fingers after you make me cum? Make that pretty pussy squirt?” You barely stifled a whine at his brash words, Toji laughing under his breath when he felt the way you tried to grind down against him.

“Yeah, that’s what my girl wants. Fuck, c’mon and make daddy cum, lemme get my hands on you.” Toji groaned, chest rising up and down as you added your other hand to stroke him. He swore at the sight, his brain fogging with arousal at how even your two hands struggled to handle his dick. Toji’s mouth struggled to stay closed as he could practically *feel* how desperate you were now through the way your hands moved, milking his dick effortlessly and making the coil in his stomach tighten fast.

“Fuck- open your mouth baby, yeah that’s it, *shit*-” Toji’s arms came down to grip at your hair, holding your head still as your tongue lolled out of your mouth, drool beginning to run down the tip of it as he came on your face. You watched through your lashes at how his eyes rolled back, hand covering his face as he groaned lowly, warm cum coming out quickly and covering your lips. 

Your hands came to a stop when Toji’s iron grip on your hair loosened, his body falling back against the bed as you swallowed what had gotten in your mouth. You made a small sound of annoyance as your hand was now covered in Toji’s cum, your thumb rubbing against your plush lip and gathering a stray drop of cum from them. Glancing back down at your boyfriend, you could see him facing you yet again, a grin making its way back onto his face.

You yelped loudly as you felt your body get dragged up Toji’s body, hovering over his stomach with your legs spread open widely. “Whatcha doing with your panties still on? C’mon baby, show me what I wanna see.” Toji purred, licking his lips when you shyly brushed the crotch of your underwear to the side. “*That’s* right…”

⋆｡˚ ♡ choso: wakes up and asks if he can fuck you

soft clicking across a keyboard filled choso's ears as his brain slowly came into conscious, a vision of you seated on your side of the bed, leaning back comfortably against the pillows as you typed away at your laptop. choso let out a shocked sound as he tried to scoot closer to you, his pajamas unreasonably tight around his crotch and making his body shiver with sensitivity.

You paused your writing at the noise, shutting it and turning your head over to him. "Good morning cho" You smiled down at him, the morning glow of the sun casting highlights across your chest and collarbones, the loose fitting night gown you sported hiding nothing from Choso's rapidly growing imagination. He felt his leg twitch up at another jerk up against the cotton of his pants, a quiet gasp getting pushed from his lips in surprise.

Your laptop had been placed on the floor by the bed at this point, your body turned over to face Choso while your fingers went to caress his flushed cheeks. “‘M hard” he croaks out softly, making you giggle and nod “I can tell, baby.” he pushes himself up with his forearm slowly, moaning under his breath when his dick grazed against his thigh. “Need you, c’mere, please” he rasped out, tossing the blanket off of him and watching how your eyes dropped down to his tent. 

Your body quickly came to lay back down next to his, lifting your nightgown up to reveal your bare body underneath. Choso moaned shamelessly at how you looked, running his hands across your soft stomach all the way down to the small slit hidden between your thighs. “Thank you, thank you, gonna make you feel good, promise-” he purred out, leaning down to kiss you as his thick fingers quickly made their way to pulling down his pants. 

“So needy, aren't you baby?” you teased lightly, watching excitedly as Choso’s hard cock bounced out of his boxers, slapping the dip of his abs with a quiet ‘pwip’ sound. He nodded along breathlessly, hands gripping the fabric of his underwear tightly as you spread your legs, grinding your bare pussy down against his shaft. You shuddered when you felt it twitch up against you, Choso poorly hiding a whine into his hand as he grabbed your hips, pressing his lips together and pulling his underwear down to his knees.

Your nightgown, previously bunched up midway up your tummy, was now being pulled off leisurely by you, Choso quickly coming to cup his hand underneath your chest. “Yes yes, thank you, won’t take long I promise- *ohh god*” he spoke, voice unsteady and breathy as he prodded his tip against your hole, eyes threatening to roll up when he felt how easily you sucked him in. 

You moved your hips down to meet with his cautious thrusts up, tightening around him as he slowly, so slowly inched his way inside of you. “Haahh- so tight” Choso vocalized, looking up into your eyes as he started to bottom out inside you. Choso had been made aware he was *much* bigger than average, so he’s always been extra careful when sheathing inside of you, mind being driven into filth at the way your pussy would so eagerly swallow him up, hole stretched wide over the base of his dick, your wetness seeping out and coating the front of his balls. 

“Need this so badly, need you” Choso chanted, your name feeling like pure sugar on his tongue as he moaned it. The way you felt, stretched taught all the way down to the bottom of his dick, wet and hot and tight as he reeled his hips back, sighing out so softly as he kissed along your neck made his body feel tingly with pleasure. 

To Choso’s credit, he was honest when he said he wouldn’t take long. With a simple plea in his ear, and a clench down around him, he was wordlessly rutting up into you, his thumb coming down to rub quick circles across your swollen clit. Breathless little ‘ah- ah- ah’s’ spilled from his lips into your shoulder as your leg hooked around his waist, hugging him close as he sloppily fucked into you.

“Sorry, ‘m already, *ah* already close, can I? Inside?” Choso asked, his words broken and strained as his hips effortlessly rammed up into your pussy, filling it out so perfectly that it was impossible not to dumbly nod along with anything Choso asked for. His eyes sparkled as they started to get misty, teeth clenching together while his hands held your hips still, abs tightening as his body chased after his orgasm that was rapidly approaching.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, go-” Choso’s begs were cut off by your lips crashing down into his, his moans being drank down by you as he came instantly, shaking in your grasp as he thrusted up deeply into your pussy. The thumb on your clit never stopped as he came, stroking it alongside the bottom of the nub and whining at how it made you tighten down around him. “S-so *good*, can’ stop, plea-se” Choso cried into you, his arms stiffening into a tight grip that left no room to squirm or move away from him.

You whimpered and squeaked at Choso’s uneven, rapid thrusts up into you, his tip threatening to kiss your cervix as he sloppily rode out his orgasm inside you. You could feel the way his full balls emptied out as he grinded his hips down inside you, low groans vibrating against the skin of your neck and making you shiver when they reached your ear. You needily bucked up into him as his fingers pressed down onto your clit, eyelids lowering as your own orgasm was starting to form, just barely. Though, the feeling of tension left as soon as it came, Choso stopping his movements when he was done emptying his load inside of you

You made a noise of discontent as Choso’s thumb moved away from your pussy, clenching down weakly as he pulled out his softening cock from inside you. “Cho…I was gonna cum” You moaned, grunting as he flipped you onto your back. “I know..lemme use my mouth, please?” Choso uttered gently, his body crouched between your spread legs, with his eyes wide and hopeful staring up at you. You resisted the urge to smile as you nodded, shivering at how fast he dipped his head down between your legs

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #geto x reader #toji x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #choso kamo #toji fushiguro #fem reader

[vivwritesfics]

Can you write a max verstappen x fem reader where they do anal (fem receiving) cause he won a championship or a race please

I made this goofy because... i can and i love goofy max

Mornings: Smut, foreplay, fingering, use of good girl, anal, mention of handcuffs

March 1st, 2023

"You know how we pulled out the handcuffs when I won the championship last year, what do I get this time?" Max asked his girlfriend as they laid in bed together.

They were days away from the season opener. Max didn't need any motivation other than to get the win, but he wanted something else.

Y/N thought on it. "Something kinkier than handcuffs, right?" She asked and Max nodded his head. "Okay, how about... anal?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me." She wasn't going to repeat it.

Max didn't agree, not right away. "I've got one better," he said. "Anal, but whenever I get a win. Then we do something properly crazy when I win the championship." He wore a smirk as he said it.

She thought about it. There was no way Max was gonna win almost every race, right? She held her hand towards him. "Alright, deal."

March 5th 2023, Bahrain

"Shit," she whispered as she watched Max finish his final lap twelve seconds ahead of his teammate. Thank God nobody had heard her. Thank God Jos Verstappen hadn't heard her.

No, she was genuinely happy for her boyfriend. She ran to the barrier to great him, throwing her arms around him. She wasn't going to kiss him, not when he was wearing his helmet after a race (those things get diiirty).

He did what he had to, held his trophy up on the podium, sprayed the champagne, conducted the interviews. As soon as he was done he walked out of the paddock, holding his girlfriends hand. "Excited for tonight?" He whispered in her ear, his arm slipping around her body. For once he didn't care about the cameras on him.

"Max, I'm so proud of you, but my ass already hurts."

Max waited until they got into the car. "We don't have to do it if you don't want to," he said gently, his hand on her knee.

She shook her head. "I made a promise. We bought the lube for a reason."

Max pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "That's my girl," he whispered and they set off to the hotel.

Normally she and Max would by flying straight back to Monaco, not staying in the country of the Grand Prix. But tonight? Max couldn't wait to get her back into the bed. "Any time you want to stop, we can," he said as they parked up.

Taking her hand, he led her up to the hotel room. In the elevator he held her hips, squeezing. He kissed her neck, her head thrown back against his shoulder, until the elevator doors opened.

They walked down the hall, his lips still on her neck, with her giggling as she struggled to open the hotel room door. She just about got it open when Max lifted her up and it closed one again. "Maxy," she whispered, her forehead against his. "The door."

Using one hand (while still holding her up) he struggled to get the keycard into the door and push it open. It took several attempts, but eventually they were in the room.

"Fuck yeah," he whispered, dropping her onto the bed. She erupted into laughs and giggles.

He was going to make this fun for her, make it enjoyable for her. As long as she was having a good time, he was happy.

She rolled onto her stomach and Max immediately pulled down her jeans. He slapped her ass and then squeezed. "Fuck, I love your ass," he said. He squeezed both cheeks at the same time. "I'm gonna win every race this season."

"Oh, I have no doubt you are," she responded.

Max pulled down her panties. He felt her, lightly touched her folds. Even just his fingers barely touching her had her shivering. "Hurry up and touch me," she whispered, pushing against his hand.

"Alright, needy," he said and gripped her ass again.

He pushed her folds apart, caught a glance of how wet she was. "Holy shit," he whispered.

In the years they had been together, Max had become an expert. He knew just how to touch her body in a way that had her trembling beneath him. He knew just what he wanted to do, knew how he wanted to treat her.

"Just one orgasm first, yeah?"

She nodded, unable to bring the words to her lips. "That's it, that's my girl," he said, pumping his fingers in and out of her.

She quivered below him. "Max, fuuuuck!" She cried out, clenching around his fingers.

He slapped her ass. "Shit!" She squeaked, eyes shut as she came.

"Now to the fun stuff," Max said. He pinched her thigh and got up, wandering over to his bag.

Buried beneath everything was a great big bottle of lube. She just turned her head, watching as Max pulled it out and walked it over. "I didn't realise we bought such a big bottle," she said, somewhat astounded.

Max took his time with her. He dropped a good amount of lube onto her ass and worked her open. It was a slow process, painful at first. But she relaxed, trusted Max to take care of her. "That's it, my good girl," Max whispered. He squeezed the flesh of her ass, trying to relax her.

When she was nice and loose, Max leaned forward and kissed her shoulder blade. "You're nice and loose now, Mijn liefje," he whispered. "Are you ready for me?"

She nodded her head.

"Words, baby."

"I... I'm ready Max," she stuttered out.

Max still took his time. He pulled her apart and pushed himself forward. When his tip met her hole she gasped, and Max slowed himself down. "You're doing so good," Max whispered, pulling himself back.

Each time he pushed into her, he went just a little bit further. No amount of preparation could have made this any easier. But Max was so soft, so sweet, so gentle with her.

He thrust himself into her, his pace slow. Her squeezed him gasping every time he pushed his head inside of her. "Holy shit, Max," she whimpered.

There was no feeling like this. Max was hitting spots she didn't know existed. With some more work from his expert fingers on her pussy she came, body shaking. Two orgasms and the new sensations Max was providing her with, it was all too much. She couldn't quite take it.

He suddenly pulled out, spilling his seed over her back. Gasping, Max fell down beside her. "You did so good for me, Schat," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her.

Her body twitched as Max chased his high. "All... most... there...

Mijn liefje," he grunted, his thrusts speeding up.

Max took a moment to catch his breath. As soon as he did he ran the too small hotel bath and carried her to it.

March 19th 2023, Saudi Arabia

Y/N watched, biting her nails. "C'mon," she whispered under her breath. "C'mon, Maxy." It was embarrassing, how excited she was for his next win. More importantly, how excited she was for the aftermath of his next win.

But Max didn't win, Sergio Perez won the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. "Fuck," she hissed under her breath. Beside her, Jos Verstappen lost his mind. She didn't. She stayed calm, because she knew that was what Max was going to need.

After the podium, Y/N held Max close. "Well done, Maxy," she whispered, kissing him.

Max said nothing. He just held her close for a minute, his head pressed into her shoulder. But then he spoke up. "I know I didn't win, but..."

"No, Max. We said if you win, remember?"

"Next race. Your ass is mine."

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x reader smut #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #mv1 #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 #mv33 imagine #mv33 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

[osachiyo]

USING THE SAFEWORD - gojo , geto , toji , nanami

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ c/w. . . n/sft content (mdni), fem!reader, choking, overstimulation, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, hurt + comfort, use of the safeword, oral (f + m receiving), reader is unable to use safeword in some of these, these men are so soft for you please don't be too mad at em :(

disclaimer ! safe words and boundaries are very crucial when having intercourse. never ever ever feel shy to use your safeword because it literally is there for your safety.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ note. . . I've been wanting to write something like this for a while <3 lmk if y'all want a bsd version next :D as always, happy reading and hope y'all enjoy !

Satoru

You felt dizzy─ so fucking dizzy as Satoru's fingers tightened around your neck. You tried to let him know by slapping his forearms, clawing at them─ doing anything to get him to loosen his grin but to your fear, he was too deep in the pleasure of your sweet cunt gave him. His free hand only pinned your hands above your head─ grumbling something about you to "keep still 'n let me fuck you right".

This was getting bad─ black spots started to appear in your vision, tears gathering in your lashline as you flailed and kicked your legs─ desperate to tell him you don't want this anymore. The continous thrusts of his hips made you sick to your stomach─ fuck, were you gonna pass out? fortunately for you, as if the heavens had heard your aching pleas, Satoru's grip loosened a tad─ just enough for you to gurgle out your safeword. It took satoru a full few seconds to register what flew out of your mouth─ quickly getting off of you, his still hardened cock pulling out of your cunt. His brows were pinched as a worried frown graced his shiny lips, "babe─"

That's when he realized the tears pouring out of your eyes weren't because of pleasure─ but pain. He reached a hand out to you but that only made you flinch away, your eyes widening in fear and for a split moment, he felt his heart stop. Fuck, what did he just do?

Satoru's own eyes were open wide, hands balling into tight fists as he watched you sniffle and shiver, small hiccups leaving your swollen lips. "Fuck I─ baby, I'm so sorry, I just─" he thought about what to say next─ that he lost control? That he never meant to hurt you? He swallowed hard, pretty eyes glossed over from worry and pure guilt.

You sniffled before laying on your back, lifting your arms to make grabby hands at satoru who only let out a breath of relief, gently cradling your face in his palms as he sputtered apologies after apologies to you─ hands shaky as he pulled you to his chest and muttered soft "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry's" into your hair, soft lips pressing gentle but reassuring kisses on the top of your head he holds you against his chest.

After a few moments, the snow haired man finally found it in himself to speak, "what happened, baby? Did I go too hard?" His voice was barely above a whisper. You nuzzled your face further into his chest─ tears smudging on his skin as you shook your head, "jus' couldn't breathe," you peaked up at him, and his frown deepened, heart clenching as he stared at your glassy eyes. " 'm so sorry, sweet girl— does it hurt?" He rubbed little shapes into the bare skin of your back, lips pressing gentle kisses on your temple. You finally smiled, shaking your head again— "no, jus' a little bit sore. Think there'll be marks though."

Satoru let out a breath of relief at that, shoulders burying his face into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. "That's good— don't want my pretty girl to be in pain." You hummed in response, staying like that for a while— basking in the comforting silence until you spoke up again.

"Toru?"

"Hm?"

"Let me choke you instead."

Suguru

You've been like this for god knows how long— spread across your shared bed, knees to your chest and with Suguru between your legs, making out with your cunt.

"Holy fuck— this pussy is so fuckin' perfect f'me, isn't she?" He growls— talking as if your pussy was a living being. You only moaned in response, trying to buck your hips up to meet his mouth, only to receive a harsh slap on your clit from Suguru. He 'tsked', running his clean hand through his raven locks before glaring at you, "stop—" smack! "movin'—" smack! "s'much—" smack! "whore—" smack! Each word was punctuated by a harsh slap to your pussy. You squealed with each hit— poor cunt burning from the brutal treatment your boyfriend was giving you.

He went back to using his tongue, but something was wrong— it didn't feel good anymore, only pain. Hours of overstimulation mixing with the pain of his harsh hits only made it sting and burn.

"Sugu! h-hurts— no more!" You babbled, but he couldn't hear you— too busy eating your pussy which basically had him in a trance, leaving you with no choice but to whimper out your safeword.

It took him a couple of seconds to register before he paused— blinking up at you before apologies after apologies left his mouth, checking to see if you were hurt anywhere before you calmed him down by placing a hand on his chest, " 'm not hurt, Sugu— jus'.. too much," you panted, letting him pick you up and place you on his lap— " 'm so sorry, princess. Didn't mean too go too far," there was genuine regret in his voice, the bottom half of his face still soaked with your juices. You reached a palm to wipe off the liquid from his chin before grinning up at him— he only kissed your cheek in return.

"You forgive me?" He pulled away to look at you, a small pout adorning his thin lips. You only kissed his nose in response, earning a chuckle from him, "I'll take that as a yes then."

You two stayed like that for a couple minutes— just in each other's arms as Suguru started humming a random song, the gentle tone of his soothing voice slowly lulled you to sleep, not before you heard a faint, "I love you so much, angel," accompanied by a soft kiss on your shoulder.

Toji

"Oh, fuuck— yeah, fuckin' slut— takin' me s'well in that tight lil' throat, heh," Toji growled, hips bucking up into your face as you gagged and choked around his unbelievably fat cock. Tears and snot were dripping down your face— ruining the picture perfect makeup you had worked so hard for, mascara running down your swollen cheeks in inky streaks, lipstick smudged all over your lips and even staining your boyfriend's length in rings.

Seriously, though. Did you really expect him to be gentle with you after prancing around in that tiny little dress the whole evening? You should be grateful he didn't bend you over the dinner table and fuck you in front of your friends and co-workers.

He basically shoved you down to your knees once you arrived back home— slapping the leaky tip of his flushed cock against your face a couple times before stuffing it into your poor throat and here you were— getting used by Toji Fushiguro like his personal flleshlight as you went light headed from being deprived of breathing for so long. It seems as if he had forgotten you were human and needed to breathe— the tightness of your throat basically making his mind go blank.

You tried to scratch, claw and slap his thighs— which only made him fuck your face with more vigor, not realizing those were signs telling him to stop.

A sloppy mixture of your drool and his precum dripped down your chin in stringy webs, making a mess on the polished floor beneath you as he yanked you by the makeshift ponytail he made— pulling you off his cock with a wet "pop!", giving you the chance to gurgle out your safeword breathlessly. Toji's eyes visibly widened, slowly letting your hair go before kneeling in front of you, gently patting your back as you coughed and heaved— trying to get air back in your poor lungs.

"Too much?" His voice was gravelly, as he wiped the sweat off your face, helping you back up to your feet. You could only nod in response, his brows pinching as tears kept rolling down your face. Gently sitting you down on the couch before he walked away to get you some water.

You immediately relaxed feeling the cool water hit your throat, soothing the bruising throb of pain your boyfriend's cock had given you.

He placed the glass away before sitting next to you, wordlessly wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you to his lap.

"Sorry I went too far, ma', wan' me to make it up to ya?" He whispered into the softness of your hair, gigantic hands playing with your much smaller ones as you leaned into him.

"Mhm, can you or—" "Order Chinese? Got'cha," he cut you off, pulling his phone out from his pocket. You smiled, snuggling further into him, "and cuddles." Rolling his eyes, he hummed, "Anything my princess wants."

Kento

"Slap!"

The deafening noise cut through the heavy tension in the room, your ass burning from the sting of Kento's harsh palm cracking down on the soft fat— "t-twenty f-four!"

He hummed, voice deep as his rough palm smoothed over the battered skin of your ass, spreading your cheeks to peak at your sopping cunt— the vibrator set on it's highest setting, but he knew better than to let you cum. Right as you were about to release all over the sheets— the vibrations of the small pink toy suddenly stopped, cruelly ripping your orgasm away from your grasp. A pitiful sob left your lips, legs thrashing around— "no! W-why, please— p-please let me cum, Ken—" Another brutal slap to your bruised ass cut you off, a low growl leaving Kento's lips as he smacked you again and again— your wails egging him on further— "fucking count."

The safeword left your lips before you could even think— hiccups and sobs escaping your throat. Your husband stopped immediately upon hearing the magic word— snapping out of his daze and rushing to your side. "Are you okay, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?" His voice was laced with worry, his heart ached in regret as he watched you sniffle, curling to yourself.

"Fuck, love— I'm so sorry I—" He quickly undid your restraints and took the vibrator out of you, tossing it aside before grabbing a glass of water and handing it to you. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Does it hurt too much?"

You shook your head, to his relief, and took the glass of water from him— muttering a small "thanks."

After you had fully calmed down, he also applied some ointment on your sore bottom, being as gentle as possible not to hurt you.

He also ate you out later— to make up for all the edging, Small apologies were leaving his lips the entire time as he made out with your cunt— calling you his good girl, placing a gentle kiss on your clit after you reached your peak.

note. im sorry if this sucks ass ya'll, i had this sitting in my drafts for a while and just had to get it out :(

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡

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[makelemonade]

BEST FRIENDS TO FUCK FRIENDS - GENSHIN MEN

Warnings; NSFW, (18+), Female Reader, implied to have a big chest (not crazy big like be realistic) and a GYATT (sorry), p in v sex, seductiveness, implied squiring, a little sprinkle of degradation (use of the word “slut”), Semi-Public, unwanted pics (He wanted them), mentions of jerking off/masturbation, sinful thoughts of your best friend, raw sex, idk tell me if I missed anything, HORRIBLY WRITTEN SMUT. ITS SO BAD.

Notes; I was supposed to write this for Thoma originally so if this name is somewhere in here…ignore it. If you like this, support me on kofi! Link in masterlist!

You’ve been his best friend since secondary school, and you couldn’t deny the feelings you had for him within high school.

You always denied it though, because you just couldn’t ruin the friendship. But, now you’re both in university, stuff changes and you definitely grew some stuff..

Your feelings for him turn into sexual desires when you realize it’s been a long time since you’ve done anything. You’ve been so occupied with university that you couldn’t even spend some time on yourself…

What sets everything off is when he invites you to his house in the spring to swim. Seeing those abs and the water dripping off his chest…holy shit. Is it bad you wanted to lick all that water off or?

You bring up the topic of friends with benefits, but not between you two (yet), just what he thinks of it.

When he isn’t opposed to one with a friend, that’s what changes your mindset completely. You knew he wasn’t the best at making those type of moves, but with your assets…

It starts a week later when you ask to sleepover at his house after a party. He agrees.

This is gonna sound crazy, but you purposely puked over yourself by drinking too much so he could give you his shirt. You decided, that not wearing any shorts was now your way of sleeping!

So, here you were in his room, in his shirt, black underwear that was hardly covered, and a bed for the both of you to share.

He gulped, lingering for a while but said nothing and just got into bed. He was gonna think about your ass for a while.

You got in beside him, and maybe an hour later if he’s asleep and you’re not, you’ll secretly inch yourself closer to him, so when he wakes up and finds your hardly covered ass rubbing against him, he’ll have to go to the bathroom.

What sets him off completely is in the morning when you stretch, your arms going up and exposing your bare legs and stomach. He couldn’t stop staring.

The next step isn’t too far away; Maybe 2 weeks later. He invited you to come for a swim again, and this one was a hard decision between a bikini or a horribly fabricated shirt that exposed everything.

You decided to go for a bikini that didn’t have the best fabric, so when it got wet…

“A bikini?” He spoke. “What happened to your shorts and shirts?” You usually never went with bikinis, if it wasn’t obvious already.

You shrugged. “Change of habit.”

The cold water made your nipples pop, going through the fabric completely. Did I mention the bikini was also white?

This, is what gets him thinking about you a lot from now on.

Later in the week you’re FaceTiming him, and he noticed the change in clothes. You’re wearing a dress from HIGH SCHOOL. It was so small that the side of your breasts were out.

He had no shame in hiding the fact he was staring at them the entire FaceTime.

In the middle of taking, you pretended to drop your phone by your leg, but he didn’t expect that when you’d pick it up, he’d catch a glimpse of his favourite colour as your tight panties before you quickly moved the phone back up.

He has to hang up 5 minutes later.

Now, your next idea is gonna sound absolutely horrible.

You took pictures of yourself, none of you naked but had a sexy lingerie set in his favourite colour and sent them to him on Messages

And 2 seconds later you’re spamming him on Snapchat,

DON’T OPEN MY IMESSAGE

IGNORE IT

I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEND IT TO YOU.

Now, he’s curious, so of course he tells you he won’t look and says he’ll delete the chat.

But really he’ll save them to his phone and definitely jerk off to them.

Now, the next step is the final step, and takes the most courage.

You invite him out to the club, wearing a sexy right black dress that showed your curves perfectly.

Since this was gonna take up a lot of courage, you took maximum 2 shots to get your mindset a little changed for this.

He takes the same amount you do, and you’ve both been to multiple parties where you’ve gotten blackout drunk; 2 shots would make sure you’d remember everything.

When the both of you make your way to the dance floor, you’re shaking, but you keep telling yourself you can do this.

The next song plays and you’re both dancing together,

And the next thing he knew, you’ve turned around and you’re grinding your ass right on his pelvis. He freezes for a bit, and you’re scared; Have you gone too far?

But suddenly, his hands are on your hips and he’s moving the two of you to the rhythm, keeping your ass pressed against him.

You dance like this for another minute or 2 and then he moves his arms up around your waist, pulling your back against his chest as he starts to kiss your neck, sucking on it.

You let out moans, wishing he could hear them.

One hand makes its way up to grope your tit, he could already feel your nipple with how tight your dress was. “No bra?” He spoke into your ear so seductively, making you whimper.

He then grab your arms, dragging you to the washroom.

~~~

The small washroom mirror is steamed as your pressed against it, sat atop the sink, the both of you sloppily making out as his dick pushed in and out of of your cunt, your fluids dripping all over your thighs.

“Fucking slut,” He grunted, throwing his head back at the pure bliss. “You knew what you’ve been doing, haven’t you? All those, fuck, pictures? The bikini?”

You just grinned, tongue lolling out as your eyes rolled back into your head. “Nghh- fuck!”

He slapped the side of your ass, “Tell me how much of a slut you are, since you wanna be treated like one”

“Mmm- FUCK! I’m a slut, I’m your fucking slut, nghh~!”

“Good girl,” He panted, fucking into you harder. “I dreamed of this.” He groaned, laughing. “Fucking this tight pussy. It-fuck! Belongs to me now.”

Somehow, his thrusts became even harder, making you scream as you clawed at this back, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “Don’t stop!”

“Scream louder, maybe you’ll beat the music,” He snorted, and you wanted to slap the grin off his face, but you’re met with pure bliss as you meet your high.

“I’m cumming!Imcummingimcumming!”

You screamed as your fluids gushed all over his pelvis and he kept fucking into you. Maybe you beat the music.

It didn’t take long until he came into you. Ropes of his warm seed plastering your insides. He panted, resting his head on your shoulder.

You both stayed like that for a few minutes, the both of you too overstimulated to move.

At some point he pulled out, making you whine. His cum was starting to spill out and he shook his head, shoving 2 fingers in.

“Let’s go back to my place, I’m not done with you yet.”

-THOMA, ITTO, ALHAITHAM, KAVEH, AYATO, Tighnari, Albedo, CYNO, CHILDE, Pantalone, DILUC, Kaeya, ZHONGLI, Xiao, NEUVILLETTE, Wriothesly

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