#it's such an ugly word but like. self-pleasure is good‚ actually

[aeide-thea]

on principle opposed to describing art i dislike as 'masturbatory' because even though it's an alluringly contemptuous word to sneer it's impossible to reconcile with my pro-masturbation stance

#it's such an ugly word but like. self-pleasure is good‚ actually #it's good to know yourself and what you like and lovingly treat yourself to it! #like similarly 'meretricious' is extremely tempting if you ignore the underlying metaphor #but. hard to. #language #and quite frankly i think people who whip out 'masturbatory' in this sneering sort of way #are leveraging‚ if we're honest with ourselves‚ a particular framing of it as a gross thing that boys do #because like. when have you ever heard a *woman's* self-indulgent art described as masturbatory #like don't get me wrong we absolutely still dismiss it! but we dismiss it in other ways #that are usually about how embarrassing her *yearning* is #and so even our sneering is reinforcing an idea that men Act whereas women Feel #anyway this was prompted by some things but i shoved it in the queue so now i forget what lol #so here you are getting some contextless thoughts on the use of 'masturbatory' as sneering dismissive assessment! #just what you were hoping for i'm sure :)

[moriartyluver]

Hi! How are you! If someone hasn't already, I'd like to request fluff!alphabet with William James Moriarty very please(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Take your time and don't worry. Have a great day(⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

A/N: thank you and I hope you have a great day too :) quick note that this may be a bit OOC, reader is mentioned to be female once or twice and there are subtle mentions of suicide and self harm aswell as abuse. This is also a pretty long post so do be warned.

a= affection (how affectionate are they? do they like receiving affection?)

•I think his love language is probably word of affirmation and quality time but William’s not restricted to just those two and will show you how much he loves you in a variety of forms.

•I feel like Liam would be against showing too much physical affection in public. It is the Victorian era after all and people would have a heart attack if a lady showed her ankles. But in general I think he’s a fairly affectionate lover. In public he would hold your hand and keep you close by him, maybe giving you a quick peck on the cheek or forehead but more commonly on the back of your hand as traces of pink blush rise to his cheeks, however he will tell you often how pretty, smart, funny etc. you are no matter who is around.

•in private, liam would be very affectionate to make up for his inability to do so in public without feeling incredibly flustered. Cuddling (god I hate using that word) would be fairly frequent and if you were out or vice versa, he’d give you a kiss on the lips and a hug when he or you returned . He’s a big hugger tbh but I’ll talk more about that later.

•he didn’t receive much affection as a child because it was mostly just him and louis and although he got a few hugs from friends in the orphanage but mostly from his little brother, Liam’s probably quite touch starved so if you do the bare minimum, it’ll have him on the verge of tears. In bed (get ur mind outta the gutter) he doesn’t mind being the big or little spoon but really just likes feeling the warmth of your body against his own cold one and hearing your steady heart beat.

b = beauty (what do they find most attractive and beautiful about their s/o, physically and otherwise?)

• honestly I think William won’t care too much about looks. He’s already seen how pretty privileged individuals get treated better i society and those who are deemed “ugly” get treated worse. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t value your beauty but rather that he thinks that looks fade and your inner beauty is more important.

•I think a romance with Liam would be a “he falls first and harder” + “love at first site”

•like when he first meets you as you feed a stray animal or teach an orphan or stand up to a corrupt noble, he’d see you as an almost angelic being and he would take that on throughout your relationship. He always sees such a brightness on your face whether your smiling or not. It’s like he can see beauty just radiating from your face.

•physically he sees your entire being as pretty but especially your face. It’s something liam has the pleasure of seeing everyday and sees no flaw in. He’s pretty hopelessly in love and I think thats adorable.

c = comfort (how would they comfort their s/o and how would his s/o comfort him)

• he’s actually really good at comforting you (I know I’m on the bad list but Santa please gimme a William moriarty. He’s too husband material to not be real) If he ever sees you’ve been crying, he’ll hold you in his arms and lets you tell him all your woes and troubles, wiping your tears away with his thumb and kissing your face while telling you how much you mean to him and how perfect you are.

•William tends to not talk about his problems much. He’s scared of being a burden and doesn’t like facing his past of being constantly abused as a child. He bottles up all his emotions until he cracks under the pressure and hides away where nobody can see him. If you’re comforting him, it’s probably best to just let him know that you’re there and give him a long hug while telling him you love him.

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they around the house?)

•he has a lot on his mind but if he ever achieved his goals of eradicating the country of corruption, he would like to settle down in a small house farther away in the country with you but also in close proximity to his brothers who he would want to visit often with his children he would hope to have. After coming back with Sherlock from his ‘death’ he’s ready to live that life with you.

•everyone in the Moriarty manor helps around the house (maybe not Moran but whatever) so he does his fair share of housework too and he’s pretty good at it.

e = equal (what is the relationship dynamic like? Who is “in control”?)

•almost every Victorian relationship would have the husband as more dominant in the relationship and fulfilling all his masculine duties while women would be submissive and probably work as housewives or just socialites.

•however William knows this isn’t healthy and makes an effort to show you that you’re both equal in the relationship.

•instead of you being behind him or not talking to anyone in noble gatherings and parties, he encourages you to speak your mind and show you are equal to him.

•he’s such a cute little feminist 🥰 🥰

f = family & friends (how would their family feel about the relationship and how would they find out?)

•I think bond, Jack, Fred, Albert and Moran can probably tell there’s something going on between the two of you even before you confess to each other. Bond and Moran and constantly teasing the two of you and calling you ‘lovebirds’. Albert also teases William in a big brother kind of way but never as much as Bonde or Moran do. It’s kind of obvious to him that William has a crush on you. Jack starts giving slightly unwanted tips to William on how to capture a woman’s heart too. Fred asks you out of curiosity if you’re in love with William to which you reply in a flustered state.

• “lady (name), is it true you’re in love with Lord William?”

“What-? I mean he’s a really wonderful guy and I wouldn’t say no to courting him but-“

“So you do love him? 🤨”

“Yeah..”

•Louis would be bit clueless the entire time but the thought had popped in his head once after wondering if anyone in the group was going to get married because he wanted to know if he could make a wedding cake 💀

•I don’t think there would be a particular ‘announcement’ really. You two could just say you were getting married one day and nobody would think much of it (I’m gonna just namedrop my mtp fanfic ‘false lovers’ and say it would be funny if the two of you were pretend married except you acted like you were an old married couple so nobody would even be surprised if you mentioned that you two were in love.) Louis would probably be the only person half surprised.

•in terms of their thoughts on your relationship, they’d all be glad that William would have someone he could always rely on. Louis would especially be happy because he trust you to take care of William and be by his side. They all like you a lot and think you’re a good match together.

•I almost forgot about Sherlock. If you were there with William while they met on the noahtic, he would deduce that you both like each other but get cut off by one of you, solidifying his assumptions even more. He refers to you as William’s wife even if you aren’t married just because he’s thinks he’s funny. If William ever confides in Sherlock about you, I think that would show to Sherlock who probably has no interest in love that the two of you truly do love each other.

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

•he’s incredibly gentle. Liam’s so soft spoken around you and has never ever yelled at you, even in arguments. If he’s upset with you, it’s probably with good reason or he’s stressed and can’t talk to anyone but even then he tells you maturely that he needs to be alone or needs comfort (even if he refuses to ask for help sometimes)

•every lingering touch is soft and calm. His “blood stained” hands are really soft and well taken care of. Sometimes to grasp your attention, he hold your hands in his and talks to you in the sweetest and most harmonious voice ever.

•If you’re on a mission together, he’ll try do most of the work because he doesn’t want you getting hurt but applauds you for every noble you stab and shoot. After each mission he’ll take you to the side and wipe any filthy blood of your pretty face and comfort you, telling you it’s all over and one day you won’t need to do any of this anymore

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

•he likes hugs but only in private, like I said earlier. There’s something really intimate about just holding someone in your arms and never wanting to let go.

•he hugs you quite often but again, only really in private. He might hug you from behind in the morning while you brush your teeth or after a mission he’d kiss your forehead and hug you in his arms or have you sit on his lap and play with his hair while he’s finishing off marking papers for university. His hugs are soft and comforting whether it’s him spooning you in bed or wrapping his arms around your waist when he gets home from work.

i = i love you (how fast do they say the L-word?)

•to be honest, I think if William really loved someone romantically, he’d have to have known them for a long time. He shows you that he loves you in other ways such as protecting you or getting you gifts or spending time with you.

•he doesn’t think he should wait too long to tell you he loves you because as your lover, it should be expected rather than a surprise but he’s not going to tell you he loves you straight away.

•I think Liam would say he loves you while he climbs into bed with you, thinking ours still asleep and just giving you a kiss on the cheek and whispering ‘I love you’ before he falls asleep except you were awake the entire time and whisper back an ‘I love you’

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?)

•I cant tell if he would get jealous fairly easily or not at all. I guess he’d be jealous but fairly silently.

•If someone’s flirting with you, he’ll get a bit more handsy until they realise they should leave. If they don’t leave after you tel them you already have someone he’ll start dropping a few more hints until he speaks up and tells them to leave. If you ask him later if he was jealous, he’d only reply with a smile and “any man would feel envious if some imbecile was flirting with his beautiful lover” and that’s the end of it. Unless the guy flirting with you ends up dead the following day for various other reasons expect this time he put a bit more effort into the kill.

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss their partner? where do they like to be kissed?)

•oh to have the privilege of being kissed by William.

•his kisses are passionate and soft. He’s not really a rough kisser and is more sensual. His lips are soft and well taken care of and he’s very very gentle

•Liam’s favourite places to kiss you would be your forehead, your cheeks, your neck, your hands and your lips. (But he doesn’t discriminate!!) Each place he kisses is for various reasons and imply different things.

•Kissing you on the forehead is for comforting you, cheeks would be if you did him a quick favour like fetching something for him or when he’s leaving for work in a rush and doesn’t have time to give you a longer kiss. , neck is when… 😏 or when he’s hugging you from behind and catching you by surprise, hands is for when he’s flirting with you or showing you off in public and your lips is when he’s feeling more vulnerable.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

•he basically had to raise Louis by himself while he was growing up and was frequently around other children in the orphanages he went to so he’s pretty good with kids even though he probably doesn’t think so.

•in the future, I can see him wanting a son or daughter with you if he’s willing to settle down, probably after he ‘died’

•if you can’t have children or would want to adopt, he’d be more than happy to adopt a little boy or girl who would come from an underprivileged background. It’s like he could go back in time and take in a mini him

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

•I think Liam wakes up quite early so he’ll leave you to sleep but write a cute little ‘good morning’ note on his side of the bed and if you’re clinging on to him while you sleep, he’ll put his pillow in your arms instead. If he has no reason to wake up early and let’s himself have a lie-in , which is quite rare, he’s going to be woken up by a kiss from you on the top of his head as you try to wake him up while he mutters ‘five more minutes’ and grabs you back into his arms.

n = nicknames (what nicknames do you have for each other?)

•he’s not too fond of those really goofy nicknames like ‘snugglebug 🥺’ but he’s probably a more traditional guy. He doesn’t expect you to use any nicknames but if you do, he’d get very silently flustered.

•his nicknames for you would include: darling, my dear, my love, my Angel, honey, doll-face, sweetheart and maybe a shortened version of your first name. Anything that makes you happy and/or can get you blushing.

•yours for him would include: baby, my love, sunshine, my beloved, darling, dearest, liam, will, Angel face, dove, mon amour, sweetheart and more

•I feel like if he sees you as a long time partner, which realistically he would, he would tell you his real name. I think it symbolises a deep connection between Liam and other people (his brothers and best friend all know his real name) so in private, he’d let you call him by that name.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves?)

•that’s certainly going to take a while.

•William is quite closed off and never really reveals anything about himself. Even in the manga and anime, we don’t find out much about William apart from how Albert took him in and that time he went to court but even then, not much detail is given.

•even people he really trusts barely know anything about him

•he has trust issues by the way so if he can trust you then the others would see it as a miracle.

•I don’t think it’s a matter of when but say if he was being vulnerable due to trauma and you’re there for him as he cries into your chest, he’ll tell you a few more things from his past.

•each time he gets vulnerable with you, he’ll tell you more pieces of his mysterious past and if you’re smart enough, you’ll be able to put all this together to create a mental timeline

•he’s really grateful he has someone to be somewhat open to even if it’s just a bit

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

•he seems pretty calm on the surface and it can honestly fool many people including yourself but as seen in the chapter where his student was hiding something from him, William actually has a lot of repressed anger

•he’s very patient with you, especially if you’ve had a past involving abuse from short tempered people. I don’t think he’d ever yell at you and he definitely would never hit you

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about their partner?)

•every. single. detail.

•I have a headcannon that Liam has really good photographic memory and he remembers almost anything you tell him.

•you tell him about some old pet goldfish you really loved when you were 6 but it died because you accidentally over fed it and your dad had to flush it down the toilet? he’ll remember. (That sounds so sinister I’m sorry 💀)

•he’s also really good at planning dates because of this great ability. He can remember all of your favourite places to eat and your favourite flowers without difficulty.

r = remember (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

•he has a lot. He literally loves every breathing moment with you and would want to die in your arms and be with you forever if he could.

•maybe it’s that time he made a slight miscalculation on a mission and got wounded so you had to temporarily bandage him up with some clean fabric from your clothes

•or maybe that time he got sick and could barely leave his bed (we all know this man is a major workaholic so he’s going to be upset about this to some degree) so you nursed him back to health and stayed by his side no matter how annoying or disgustingly ill he got (bro prolly still looks majestic even if he’s infected with a sickly virus)

•or that time you both stayed up late together in the library and fell asleep while he read to you and then you were both found by a worried Louis in the morning

•or that time that you took Liam outside one night to see a shooting star and although you don’t tell him what you wished for, he could hear you whispering under your breath “I want to be with William forever..”

•or that time you both went on a walk in a nearby peak and saw that a small pond had frozen over and he took you ‘ice skating’ on it (don’t try this at home kids, no matter how hot and sexy the blond man is)

•or that time you brought him lunch and were invited to stay for the remainder of the lecture while he was working and all his students were surprised that professor William had such a pretty wife (take the compliment bitch) but you and William had to avoid getting bombarded with questions about their teachers love life so you were stuck in a closet together until the young men had left to you both alone

•or that time..jk I’ll stop now..

s = security (how protective are they? would they like to be protected?)

•he’s pretty protective. Liam knows that multiple people would want to kidnap one of the people closest to the Lord of crime and use you against him. He also knows that once he gets outted as the Lord of crime, things are probably going to be difficult for you and you would totally be questioned about your involvement in the serial killings of nobles in England.

•he’s protective but not in a yandere way (unless I make a yandere alphabet and he is) or an abusive way. He respects that you are your own person and you can take care of yourself but if you’ve been gone for a good few hours (5+ hours is when he’d get a bit worried) and he doesn’t know where you are, that’s when his protective instinct kicks in and if anyone dares hurt you, they’re not going to make it home in one piece or without a few painful injuries.

•William can protect himself as much as you can but if he ever get out in a position where he doesn’t have a plan, he would be so grateful if you came to his rescue.

•like in that one manga chapter when he gets kidnapped, I can imagine his eyes lighting up when he see you enter the room and stab or shoot his captor even though he had a plan.

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

• Liam tries a lot. Sometimes he feels he doesn’t have enough time for you and he knows that when he does set up a date, he shouldn’t bail on you or make it low effort. He so a gentleman after all. On anniversaries or your birthday, he’ll make sure to make the whole day perfect, from getting you breakfast in bed to buying you expensive jewellery. He makes a note of all your favourite things so he knows what to do for you on dates

•William’s gifts are thoughtful and although he has a lot of money to spend on you, he also knows that simple things like a note in your pocket telling you to “have a lovely day :)” can bring a smile to your face too. If he sees flowers that he knows you like while he walks past the florist, he’ll bring them home for you. On bigger occasions such as birthdays, holidays or anniversaries, he puts alot of effort into finding out what the perfect gift for you would be. Sometimes he cant choose just one so expect William to hand you a gift bag full of gifts wrapped In Wrapping paper, all of varying sizes. Some may be boxes of pretty jewellery, others may be books. He also just likes buying you things even if it’s for no particular reason. Anything to show how much he loves you even in everyday tasks. He asks Louis to teach him how to make some of your favourite dishes so he can make them for you whenever or he’ll help you pick out outfits for parties (he thinks everything looks good on you so he may not be much of a help but he’s trying)

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

•he smokes. A lot.

•although it’s canon that he does it for the sake of self harm, Liam tries to avoid doing it around you after numerous scoldings from you that it’s not good for his health (bonus points if you have some experience in the medical field). You tell him how bad it is for his lungs all the time and it makes him feel a bit guilty so he doesn’t smoke within a 100m radius of you

•he also lacks proper self-care in terms of not getting enough sleep and forgetting to eat , which annoys both you and Louis

•although he loves you a lot, William is suicidal so he always has the lingering thought that he’s going to have to die to atone for his sins soon and can be quite distant toward the ‘end’ of your relationship in an effort to protect you from any mental and emotional harm he also sometimes gets scared you’ll leave him and he wouldn’t be able to take that which is why earlier on, he’d be very hesitant to even talk to you and panics when he realises he might have feelings for you

•but like a win is a win and I would do anything, no matter how strange, to even breathe the same air as this man

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

•William isn’t one to care too much about beauty, as I said earlier, but he sees himself as inferior to you deep down. He knows he doesn’t deserve you no matter how many times you tell him that he is. He has the nickname ‘Angel’ for you because he sees himself as a demon, a devil while you are a benevolent Angel who would never stoop to his level. (William please see a therapist)

•William also thinks you are the better looking one in the relationship, but he isn’t really insecure about himself. He knows he’s conventionally attractive. Multiple women have thrown themselves at him or asked him out on a date, to which he would politely decline. He knows you’re being genuine when you run your fingers through his blond hair and calling him the ‘ most beautiful and pretty man in the universe ‘ (if I was with Liam I’d be doing the at all the time. Every time he does anything I’d just be calling him pretty because I’m madly in love with him) He still feels he needs to make a slight effort around you and can feel a little insecure if another man was flirting with you, but you have the decency to turn him down

• “Miss? Are you perchance of celestial origins? I ask as your ravishing beauty surpasses that of a mortal woman”

• “i-“ *blinking as you look to William then to the flirt again* “you mean mrs, right?”

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

•he totally would. It would take a lot for William to even consider making friends let alone finding love so if he does end up falling in love, that means his significant other would be very special.

•at first he didn’t think he had time for love with all the Lord of crime stuff but after the constant denial of being helplessly in love with you turns to acceptance, he knows that you’re his other half. His heart only has room for you and if you were to leave him or if he were to leave you, liam would feel lost and incomplete.

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

• okay so I have a few:

he likes when you read to him or when he reads to you before bed

If you’re wearing flavoured lip gloss which I’m sure didn’t exist back hen but let’s pretend it did, he’d guess the flavour you were wearing whenever you kissed.

If he finds out you’re interested in a topic he’s not well educated on, he spends a lot of time researching it to impress you

He likes buying you clothes and watching you try them on

If you wanted a pet (cats are better) he would protest at first out of fear it may distract you from him but end up really liking it once he gets it.

You know how he likes weird food combos? Liam would ask you to try food with him but you’d end up throwing up after eating fish and strawberry cake.

he once did your hair and make up and it was actually really good

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

•he hates selfish nobles and corrupt rich people who have no regard for other’s wellbeing so if you fall anywhere in that, he’s not gonna wanna be with you, sorry bae 😞

z = zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs?)

•we all know that William has a messed up sleep schedule. he stays awake late at night frequently only to randomly fall asleep during the day.

•like in that one scene in the anime when William fall asleep on a couch and bond is just confused. I just thought it’d be super cute if you would be sat beside him and his head lands on your thighs as quiet snores come out of his mouth.

•when you two eventually share a bedroom and a queen sized bed, William will make an effort to try and sleep next to you.

•I head-cannon that he can’t fall asleep on demand unless he sleeps beside you. I think he also likes hearing your voice just as he is about to sleep. It’s like a lullaby for him.

•at one point you just start carrying a blanket with you while you’re out with Liam just so if he falls asleep, he can’t get comfortable.

•if you both have similar sleep schedules (you probably do if you’re scrolling through mtp tumblr late at night) then I don’t think there would be much of an issues apart from the two of you being scolded by Louis for not sleeping.

#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #sherlock holmes #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori x reader #mtp x reader #mtp william #yuumori spoilers #william james moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader

[fizzyxcustard]

Letter

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: None romantically. Lucas North x OFC (Amy Holland) platonically.

Summary: Amy writes a letter to Lucas in her diary. 

Warnings: Insecurity, angst.

Word count: 442

Comments/notes: This drabble is for @asgardianhobbit98's Four For Valentine event; week 2 with ‘letter’ prompt. Please consider reblogging if you enjoy. 

It had been six months now since Amy first caught sight of Lucas North, her colleague. He had sat opposite her in their daily meeting, the first of many that Amy would attend. As soon as Amy had clapped her eyes on him, she felt butterflies in her stomach. His voice was like velvet, wrapping around her so pleasurably. 

And now, she knew that she was feeling something that she had never felt before. His confidence, his kindness, his wit. Everything about him was perfection. Love? 

Amy sat in her living room, with her journal propped on her lap and began to write. 

Lucas, 

I feel stupid writing this. As if you’d ever like me. But my heart is always overflowing whenever I see you, and then that gnarly, twisted feeling of envy starts whenever I see you talk to Jo. You two would be so good together; both of you are gorgeous. I just sit there daydreaming that maybe one day you might actually see me in some other way that isn’t just as a colleague. I know we chat most days and you’ve even brought me coffee, but that’s just your kindness. I wish I was more; pretty, confident, enough for you. 

Every day that we talk and then you walk away, I feel like disappearing. I feel pathetic. 

Why did I have to like you? You’re the kind of man every woman would find themselves falling for, even us ugly ones. Of course ugly girls would love you. Then you would laugh in our faces, adding one more name to a long list of girls who fancy you. 

Amy dropped her pen in the centrefold of her journal and felt the tears drip down her cheeks. The pain of never being enough was all she could feel; it was like a heavy weight in her mind, and it constantly followed her around like a black cloud. And whenever Lucas was in the same room, it hit her so hard. Those negative feelings always made her feel like hiding away. Maybe someone would notice she’d left and go to look for her. Possibly Lucas? Pfft. She doubted it.

Low self-esteem crippled Amy, being like a constant visitor. Whispering. Waiting. It had only gotten louder since her break up with Adam. Now the voice began as a whisper, and by the end of the day, it was screaming at her. 

With a shaking hand, Amy reached for a cup of tea on her coffee table beside her. She took a deep breath and pictured Lucas in her mind: perfect, gorgeous. For once, a little spark flickered somewhere in her chest. 

Hope. 

#Lucas North #Spooks #MI5 #Richard Armitage #Four For Valentine #Drabble #Original female character #Angst #Insecurity

[rhineposting]

So is the implication from that headcanon is that Belos sexually a*saulted Hunter? If yes, why did he do it? Is it like a chain of harm thing, like he himself was abused as a child, or was it just to be a prick?

The short answer would be yes, but the long version is a bit more complex than that.

More in-depth, but possibly triggering answer, below the cut

Okay, so. I'll begin with a disclaimer again.

The Belos pictured above is not canon Belos, and never was supposed to be. He exists solely as a device to explore an alternative scenario that would not make sense for canon Belos, as well as the weight behind it.

The main difference between this Belos and the canon one, is that he does not perceive Hunter as his nephew - to him, he was simply the boy he made specifically for being available at the snap of a finger. The abuse depicted in canon was clearly based on familial bonds, so I wanted to stray from that.

Disclaimer over.

So. Let's begin with Hunter.

While he is certainly a victim, assault isn't exactly the word I'd use to describe the specific type of sexual abuse he had gone through. To me, assault always implied something sudden, violent and unwanted from the get go - you know it's wrong from the start.

And that's precisely the opposite of Hunter's situation as depicted in the fic.

He's what I like to call an Unsympathetic Victim - the kind that most people doubt when they describe their story, the kind that doesn't fit into the convenient, tasteful or sometimes fetishized box of what being a victim means. Sucks, but unfortunately, it still happens everywhere. Those people, though their experiences and feelings are viewed unsavory or even sometimes disgusting by society, are still just as valid as those approved by it. Trauma isn’t a fucking measuring contest, and that’s that.

As for what that exactly entails...

Hunter, due to being isolated from peers and other adults, ended up developing an unhealthy infatuation with Belos, which resulted both from him being the only "good" adult in his life, as well as intrusive thoughts based in his already existing trauma, on top of teenage hormonal changes. Of course, he had no idea that it was wrong. He had no reference points whatsoever on what was right and wrong.

At some point he had admitted to those feelings and normal for his age desires - which, unfortunately to him, Belos decided to entertain. I won't go too much into detail, but eventually, Belos and Hunter's already awful relationship ended up gaining a sexual layer to it.

Here is where the "unsympathetic" part starts :

Due to his lack of proper education and severe emotional manipulation from Belos, Hunter never considered himself a victim. Right up until he started watching that movie with Luz, he thought it was perfectly normal for a teenager and an adult to be in a sexual relationship. Of course, for him the adult in question turned out to be a genocidal maniac and narcissist, but he never hated those more intimate parts. If anything, he was always happy to participate as he did enjoy it, as ugly as it may sound.

Of course, his logic skips on the parts where Belos guilt-tripped consent out of him, or that he was afraid of the disappointment that would follow after openly saying no, which as we know resulted in physical abuse in canon. All he knew was that he trusted Belos and that the act itself was physically pleasurable for both of them, so it couldn't have actually been something wrong. That it couldn't have been abuse as well.

That is, again, right up until he was proven otherwise by Luz, to which he reacted with brief panic then shutting down. Not only was that last illusion of normalcy taken away from him, now he believes it was his fault for having those thoughts to begin with. If there was one thing Belos taught him well, it was the art of self-victim blaming.

But in shorter words...

No. Technically speaking Hunter was not assaulted - rather, he was groomed and coerced, and mayhaps gaslit. While those two situations are both sexual abuse, they are two different kinds of it and that kind of distinction is important.

Now, as for Belos...

I personally do not like writing him with a "chain of harm" trope, as likely as it might've been, because I feel like it defeats the point of him consciously making the decision to do the wrong thing for over 400 years.

However, reducing it to him just "being a prick" misses the point as well.

Canon Belos first and foremost, wanted to have complete and utter authority and control over Hunter, while also demanding devotion, adoration and loyalty from him - which applies to This version of Belos as well.

So, when Hunter ended up coming forward with his intrusive thoughts and desires, to Belos it was an opportunity for two things :

Truly becoming Hunter's number one everything - further preventing him from finding someone else to possibly prioritize over him, which is why in canon he detested the sight of Flapjack so much, on top of him being Caleb's/Evelyn's palisman. Anyone from the outside of his influence was a threat to his control over Hunter. So, with him being Hunter's God, mentor, caretaker, superior and then """lover""", he was This close to stopping the redemption arc from happening. Alas, Flapjack and Luz still came around.

Satisfying physical urges without having to look too far, and without the risk of landing with someone who could stab him in the back. Hunter just so happened to be the perfect fit : willing, obedient, not ugly and always available. Sometimes, that's all there is to it with abusers.

In shorter words, again : 

It was more about asserting his control and blowing off steam while at it, not just being an asshole.

Again, I cannot stress enough that this headcanon/interpretation/whatever is NOT meant to be in any way titillating or romanticizing sexual abuse. It is, first and foremost, a character study that’s based and inspired both by personal experiences and observations of both fiction and real life - in hopes of partially bringing light to often overlooked or stigmatized effects and types of trauma. In case you were wondering, no I am still not a therapist or any other kind of licensed professional, so do Not take my word as 100% credible and without fault as I am only human. That will be all for now.

#tw trauma talk #tw csa mention #tw child grooming #toh #the owl house #rhine rambling tag #storyboard belos #toh hunter #alt belos #I should probably get a different tag for this guy so people can filter him out easier if there's a need for that. #empgold #??? is that the right tag??? I dont' ACTUALLY ship them in any way shape or form. #I really don't want people to get the wrong idea. I swear to God I don't view the dynamic like That. #On another note #To the people who had similar experience/s like described above... #I see you. You're not disgusting for that and you didn't deserve it just as much as every other victim/survivor out there. You're not alone

[modestbirdwizard]

De-Program The Algorithm: RSS is good and you should be using it.

Escape the algorithm, tune your feed and save the world; or, even though it's old and ugly, RSS can make your life better.

We live in a time of algorythmic feeds that distort our perceptions of events, time, and the people that we care about. Non-stop, hardwired access by large corporations into the pleasure centers of our brains have disrupted human congnition to the point where many wonder how we ever found content we liked without having it served up by angelic machines that live in the cloud, accessing us via the little magic boxes that live in our pockets.

There IS a way out of it, though, and it comes from before Web 1.0. It is called RSS, or Real Simple Syndication.

A more thorough explanation under the jump!

In the even older times, Syndication was a word used by old media to describe an article or show that they'd gotten from somewhere else, and were presenting as content to their own viewers. Star Trek, Garfield, and millions of other comics, stories, TV shows found success not in their initial markets, but in the long running and carefully tuned presentation of existing backlogs to interested audiences.

While syndication was previously a method of showing old content to new audiences, RSS is primarily a method of displaying new content in a feed to an audience of one, or a few. You can set your RSS up to have as much or as little content as you wish, mindlessly scraping vast quantities of podcasts and articles, or as a carefully pruned garden, where each entry lives or dies by the pleasure it brings you.

You can even put porn on it. And webcomics.

Youtube is compatible, which means you could bypass any artificial limiting our curation of your subscription tab with it. Tumblr blogs can be RSS feeds as well, as well as most wordpress sites. RSS is usually a defacto afterthought in this day and age, but sites like twitter don't work natively (Thanks Elon).

Really, the biggest killer for me is that I can create not just a video subscription feed that actually shows all of my subscriptions, I can even create several feeds of content based on genre or subject. No longer will my miniature painting videos be swept away in a tide of tech reviews or drama alerts!

There are self hosted options if you have a server or an unemployed raspberry pi, but for the general user, I highly recommend browser plugins like Feedbro, or apps like Feedly. Many of them have paid features now, but don't be fooled. There is always a free way to get your feed set up, and Feedbro works on mobile anyway. Sadly, this isn't something that firefox can sync, but at least you can export your desktop feed and import it on mobile.

#technology #rss #web 1.0 #old internet #algorithm #jake wrote a blog #Seriously fuck youtube though. This is how you de-program the algorithim.

[dmagedgoods]

Ok, for the 60 Character Asks: 8, 26, 57 for Sal; 2, 20, 60 for Eneas; and 1, 22, 42 for Crowley (I hope I spelled his name right) please 🥺 👀

Salvadore: 8. If they were an animal, which one would they be? Which one would they think they’d be? A panther. Aesthetically and because big cats suit him very well in behavior too. I’d say his perception fits reality here, he’d agree that if he was an animal it would need to be some sort of feline predator. 26. What’s one topic they could never get tired of researching or learning about? Politics. 😁 In all facets, in history, theories, social aspects, philosophical ones too, methodology, strategies, economy … His second all-time weakness – and of course connected – is rhetoric and how to guide impressions by appearance, demeanor, and well-aimed words. He also never grows tired of sociology. Aside from this field, he always enjoys poems and literature in general. 57. How do they feel about drugs? Except for some rare and either very intimate or very desperate situations where he searches for the experience of letting go deliberately, he despises not being in full control of his mind. Of course, he enjoys alcoholic drinks, but those for the taste and the flair not their effect on one’s senses, and, luckily for him, it takes a lot for him to get drunk or is close to impossible thanks to his dhampir nature. Other drugs, well, he wouldn’t be very interested in those on his own account. It’s Daeran who convinces him to try this or that. But Salvadore would never use them during work, important missions, or when there is even the slightest chance that he’ll be seen by anyone but his husband. This said, every once in a while it comes to a very different kind of situation where he takes certain substances: Since he doesn’t want to leave marks and traces of what happened, he uses certain potions in his self-punishment phases. I’m not sure it counts as drugs though, the effect is the exact opposite of pleasant and deliberately so. ~ Eneas: 2. What’s their biggest regret? Oh ouch. That he never went back to search for his family when he had the means eventually, afraid his vague memories of them might be wrong, even more afraid they might be right, and that they would not want him around anymore after the things he had to do. The second thing he painfully regrets is that he left Salvadore when he still needed him. 20. Who’s their go-to person for advice? Anyone around him. Usually, he is the person others consult for advice, but when he finds himself in the need of such, he likes to hear different views on it. He disguises the topic ever so slightly to make sure it won’t be recognizable in its entirety or as an actual issue he deals with and then listens to people’s opinions. Of course, if he truly manages to build trust with someone, this very close person will get to hear about what troubles him in a much more genuine way and he’ll ask for their advice openly. 60. What are some of their simple pleasures? The whole list?? 😮 Oh, the question asks for some, alright, that works. Food: Eneas loves to indulge in tastes in an almost sensual manner, he also loves the certainty that he’ll never have to be truly hungry again. Music: One of the things he lives for, to lose himself in its magic by listening, moving with it, or creating it himself ... Good stories: To hear them as much as telling them. Watching people: Their behavior, wishes, hopes, joys, fears, every delicious emotion, every oddity and quirk. Sunsets: Oh those colors! ... I literally could go on forever. Those “simple pleasures” are highly important to Eneas and he celebrates them daily. He manages to find wonders and deep bliss in seemingly mundane niceties. Rowey: (He doesn’t mind being called Crowley. 😁 Rowley is only something he made up as well after all.) 1. What’s the one thing they would save in a fire? Bold of you to assume he didn’t start the fire himself. But let’s assume it was an accident: An ugly, dirty old teddy bear missing one eye, patched in many places. It belonged to his twin brother when they were children already. 22. Are they a dog person or a cat person — or something else?

A dog person! He even owns one. Omen is her name. (the Xoloitzcuintli Quetzal race comes close if you want to know what she looks like. 😊) 42. What’s the typical first impression after meeting this person? This question! For Rowley of all people. Perfection. 😂 Well, depending on the situation and who is asked, people meeting him for the first time may describe him as: Insufferable, a danger to society, a fun guy, an annoyance, a dangerous criminal, a pain in the ass, an interesting ally, the worst that happened to them all week, too courageous for his own good, a prankster, admirable, a despicable creature … The typical first reaction after meeting him is either disbelief combined with embarrassment or a bit of rage or at the very least irritation. For the very relaxed people out there, it may be amazement and amusement.

#omg thank you #😂❤️ #this was so fun again #knight commander salvadore #oc: salvadore #oc: eneas #oc: rowley #my ocs #dmagedtexts

[reinabeestudio]

Friends and Strangers

Weather got me worried as hell lately, so of course I wrote a oneshot involving rain. I'm a genius.

If it wasn't clear: yes, this is Wally Darling/Neighbor 🍎👑

Second time I use 'The Neighbor' as a nickname for my self-insert. I have an actual WH oc yet I use my sona anyway. I'm also very original.

The title is from a song by Dave Grusin. It's calm yet charming, it made me think of Wally ahaa;; Nice background music tho

Home can be described in many words: colorful, peaceful, lovely, heavenly. Confined

But one of the many peculiar things about the quaint little piece of Heaven was its weather. More often than not it was equable. Neither very hot nor very cold. Always clement. Perfect

Yet the Neighbor had never seen the Sun. The sky shone blue and clear, but the star was nowhere to be seen. The Moon was the same as well: a sparkling night sky with moonlight coming from somewhere. Sometimes days just felt like someone turned off the lights in the neighborhood for a few hours before turning them back on.

However, today was different. The overcast cried over Home and created a maudlin, bleak mood. Time seemed to pass as slow as molasses.

Wally Darling did not like rain.

Rarely did the little artist find something that he did not like, though rain was one of them. Because it was such a rare phenomenon that everytime it happened, the rain caught him unaware and ruined his striking blue hair. He took great pride in his appearance.

There he was now, inside Home, changed into a new outfit after taking a nice bath to forget the unpleasant surprise, this ugly weather—and most importantly, his hair styled back into his perfect pompadour. He couldn't let the others see him with his hair down, he looked horrible!

His self-care session was cut short by the sound of someone frantically knocking on his door.

“I wonder who it could be...” he pondered out loud. His huge building friend, Home, simply jiggled its doorknob. Of course it knew who it was and it would not tell him. Hurry up is all it told him.

Admittedly curious, he left the bathroom and made his way to the door. His eyes widened at the sight of the surprise visitor.

The Neighbor.

There she was, on his doorstep with an umbrella in hand. As always she wore that red dress as beautiful as an apple. And of course, that golden heart-shaped brooch, exposed to everyone. Silly. His was under the soles of his feet.

He would be elated with the visit if it wasn't for the nervous expression on her face... Did something happen?

“H-Hey. Sorry for coming over unannounced. I just thought we could, ah, hang out?” she gripped the handle of the umbrella stronger. “But I understand if this was too sudden. I'll just- I'll just leave, sorry. See y-”

“Wait, Neighbor. You can come, it's alright.” I could never deny you.

“Thanks,” she said before she hastened inside. He noticed how she glanced at the dark clouds before he closed the door.

The Neighbor looked up at the ceiling. “Hi, Home. Sorry for messing your floor with my umbrella.”

The floor under her creaked, raising and deflating like a breath. Wally laughed in his unique monotonous laughter before he took the dripping umbrella and hung it on the wall coat rack next to his yellow raincoat.

“What do I owe the pleasure, friend?”

“Well... today is so gloomy, right? It was boring by myself so I thought, let's visit my good pal Wally. I'm sure he will know what to do!”

Wally tilted his head. “Were you feeling lonely, Neighbor? And you came to your best friend to help.”

She didn't answer, but her eyes looking away was louder than words.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. It's alright. I like your idea! We can have fun.”

The Neighbor gifted him a little smile, causing a tightness in his chest. There it was again. That foreign feeling. He did not know what it was but it wasn't unpleasant thus he paid no mind. However, the rumbling sound of thunder stole that gift from him and replaced it with the saddening sight of his friend covering her ears with teary eyes.

Ah, so that was what was really going on.

The Neighbor wasn't here to kill time. She wanted comfort.

And she came for him to get it. What a touching realization, if it wasn't for the upset lady in front of him.

Wally approached her and started rubbing her back as he escorted her from the door to the colorful couch, both of them sitting down.

“It's alright, friend. We are safe here. Home protects us.”

The building creaked as if to support the statement. The Neighbor laughed mirthlessly.

“Thanks, Wally. And Home.”

Another thunder made her jump from her spot and cover her ears again. It was heart-breaking to see his beloved friend so distressed. There had to be some way to make her forget about the rain, or at least distract her from it... The rhythm of the droplets of water hammering against the windows gave him an idea.

“Stay here, friend,” he said as he got up. But he was stopped by her hand around his wrist. Aaaah....

“Don't leave me alone. Please.”

Golly, he was going to drop dead at this point. “I'm just going to get something and I'll be right back. Alright?”

“.... Alright.”

The Neighbor released his wrist, and he missed the warmth as he went to take his leave.

Wally heard Home doing its best to strike up a conversation with their guest. Home was not easy to understand. The artist himself had trouble deciphering the meaning behind the house's many onomatopoeias. But he adored Home thus he tried. And he could hear the Neighbor trying to understand it, which must mean she cared too, right?

She liked Home. She liked the other neighbors. She liked him. And she will n̸e̵̡v̨̀͢e͠ŕ abandon Home.

Ah, there it was!

He picked up the small radio next to his art supplies and made his way back to his important person. His chest tightened once more when his friend's face lit up at the sight of him.

He moved the side table closer to the couch, away from its usual spot next to his favorite chair, and set the radio on top of it.

“A radio? What for?” she asked, tilting her head in his direction with curiosity.

“Who doesn't like some music from time to time, yes?” Wally's eyes squinted mirthfully. “Moreover, a little bird told me you like music.”

Rather a large, green caterpillar. Howdy Pillar mentioned it in passing as he gave Wally his usual. At some point she visited his shop and asked if he had some kind of Cee-Dee player (what is a Cee-Dee?), alas he did not. This seemingly innocuous comment informed Wally of something important: she was longing for her previous world. No, he couldn't have the new friend miss that place nor even think about it. This was her Home, after all.

Even then, it was not a secret that she enjoyed music. She often hummed to herself, or sometimes she even sang along if she knew the lyrics. She loved music, and he loved her music.

The Neighbor twisted the dial on, an old song coming out from the machine. Wally sat down next to her as more thunder rumbled outside. The Neighbor hugged him close like a pillow. Or a puppet.

He was taken completely off-guard yet he didn't reject it. When his other friends hugged him, he gladly accepted it with a smile. But this time, he didn't just take it. For once, he lifted his shaking arms and slowly put them around his friend, a hand rubbing her back again. He even dared to indulge a bit and pressed his face into the crook of her neck as her breathing slowed down. This was working, that's good.

There were no words between them for several minutes, the only sounds amongst them were the rain and the radio playing its old songs. And he didn't move an inch, listening to her heartbeat as if it was the most interesting thing int the world.

The comfortable silence was interrupted by her stirring. With her arms still around him, she looked down at him with a soft smile. Golly, were her eyes pretty.

“Wally?”

“Yes, friend?”

“Thank you. For this. I mean it.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Don't mention it. That's what friend are for.”

The Neighbor cupped the artist's fuzzy cheeks and planted a soft kiss on them (careful to not flatten his pompadour).

“I'm glad you're my friend, then.”

His dilated pupils looked back up at her with his endless smile growing on his face, his chest burning but he did not care. His most important and beloved person.

“Of course. I'm your best friend. Always.”

#self insert #welcome home #wally darling #my writing #dw it's very tame 👍 writing gentle stuff is my specialty after all(?) #indulged a bit bc I've been very stressed (´-`) rain terrifies me... i miss when it didn't do so. sigh

[decadentlightthing-blog]

“He who controls the mind controls the minds of the public.” - Noam Chomsky & Jim Morrison.

Most of us accept the fact that social media shortens our attention span.

But do we really understand the fact that it does not only do that, but much more - affecting our whole way of thinking?

“But it doesnt affect me” Is a commonly cited quote, which might be relevant to many readers of this text too. This is a projection of our everyday consciousness, which is ignorance. Our minds are very selective, and we are very prone to live in a one firmly set of habits. 

And in our day to day life, what are we actually working with, internally? 

If one can really be honest about this, one can observe that Memory is mostly being acted upon for the most part. That’s the main instrument that we are playing with. But there’s a downside to using primarily just memory. As wears out the brain, and gradually, when one gets old, brain gets slower and slower.

Unfortunately this has been taken as some sort of a fundamental truth, like there’s no other way to live, act, and learn. This is a very concerning trait of our Western culture. 

Piling up knowledge into our brains without really facing the fact that our brain has limited capacity, there are inevitable consequences and therefore the fragmentation of the brain will happen. The increasing amount of distractions in society and modern lifestyle takes us away from our true nature which is far beyond the common way of life, with a biased way of thinking and superficial emotional life.

What over indulgence of social media and the noncritical way of internalizing information does to us internally, is that it evades that essential spaciousness needed for the mind.

We don’t seem to realize that “Nothing is something”.

I strongly encourage you to take a step towards a better life and for the next moment when you notice yourself caught in the same behaviour pattern, just stop. When you’re after short term pleasures or constantly amusing yourself with entertainment, take a moment to reflect on your life. 

Another phenomenon of our state of mind is that “ It is not that deep bro “, also known as Postmodernism. This I wont go into into any further in this post.

Going back to what I was saying, it is essential for us to not always try to fill our boredom with something. Fun fact, indigenious people did not have a word for boredom. They were so aligned with nature, and the nature of universe, which is a gift and the alignment to that naturally brings out gratitude to oneself. Indigenious people would be stimulated to just see that the green is grass, wind is blowing, and the sky is blue. And the culture was more about mutual good. Meanwhile in our modern culture mental disorders are becoming more and more complex. 

Where do we go from here?

Order in the mind can only come out of the understanding of disorder.

Looking at ‘what is’, presently operating in the mind, IS in in fact disorder.

Our everyday consciousness, like previously said, is ignorance. 

There are at least 6 grand illusions that are inherited from the very beginning of our childhood, and are encouraged by educational system. 

1) The illusion of thought 2) The illusion of self 3) The illusion of knowledge 4) The illusion of time 5) The illusion of control 6) The illusion of fear.

Look up: Self-enquiry

It is also to mention, that division inevitably brings about conflict. Very dangerous way of thinking is that there’s one truth, that my side is the good side, and others are bad. This is just one trait of the habits of War, and all the ugliness in the world made by man.

Last words,

althought I might paint a very gloomy picture of our way of living, I see the radical honesty of that fact as essential. And it does not end there, this is perhaps the more important part. Once we really delve into this ‘living’ we call, we can start to go beyond it. A one single moment, an insight can bring about radical change in oneself. Maintaining this positive change within oneself, implies constant awareness of unawareness. Being present when our negative impulses kick in, we’re there in the moment and in that we have all the power to act rationally, sanely, and not to go along with it.

#archives #unfinished #flow of consciousness

[bitemeilovewaffles]

I'm so hyped up right now, so time to put that energy into something useful!

Why Kaneki Is My Poor Little Meow Meow

@ragnarokascendant made me realize I could make this into a series, so here's part two!

Kaneki from Butcher Bird is my poor little meow meow and here's why:

Yes, yes he looks menacing but if you look closer, you will see his very pinchable cheeks, his warm, welcoming eyes (like candles!) and his very holdable hands.

He looks like he'll kill and eat you in your sleep (and if you're not on his good side he just might), but actually, he's just a century-year old grumpy bear with the humour of a particularly snarky teenager. He's playful, sassy, and wears the coat of his enemy solely to spite them.

Here are some things about Kaneki:

He started off hating himself to the point where he had a whole piece of himself, a whole part of who he is as a person, locked away in his mind

He forgot he had an entire piece of himself locked away until he unlocked it through Special Murder Powers

He unlocked these Special Murder Powers by being killed

Those Special Murder Powers were terrifying and led to him being dunked in the sea, then having to be knocked out in a tie by a CP9 agent, who was, afterwards, scared shitless of him.

That part of him? Takes the form of a full-on dragon. A DRAGON. WHAT A DRAMA QUEEN.

Literally wears a Marine coat that looks like it's been dyed in blood with the words 'Retribution' on it because he's the biggest drama queen this side of the Grand Line.

Had a nervous breakdown stemming from not accepting that part of himself to the point where his captain had to actually try to kill him so he could put his foot through the door to self-love. Yeah, that made sense.

Hey, remember how his mental counterpart is a dragon? Yeah, turns out he can TURN INTO ONE, NOW.

Hates himself but through his journey has found pieces of himself he can learn to accept and love. Is slowly learning that maybe not being human isn't as bad, if it means he can protect his friends, serve his captain and keep his promise.

Yoshimura Kaneki- yes that's his name, he knows no chill- is a man who is learning what love is. Both how to direct it at himself, and others. He has many flaws: from locking the 'ugly' parts of himself away to play at being human, to not letting himself love in fear that his nature will triumph over him. He's trying so hard to be a good man, trying so hard to learn how to accept himself as he is. He's already accomplished so much. He's learned how to accept parts of himself, he's learned to let himself love another, he has a strong bond of trust with his captain and he is learning and growing as a person.

Kaneki tries, he tries and tries, and that's why he's my little meow meow. He deserves so much more, and he certainly didn't ask for any of this.

He is a man that deserves the world, and yes I'm biased, yes I know he's an ex-cannibal, yes I know he's spent a full 100 years killing people in the forest like a murder gremlin.

Is any of that important? No, but you know what is? His journey of self-love through his relationship with Six.

There are, ironically, six moments he's spent with Six that worked as small milestones in his journey of self-acceptance. I will expand upon them if asked, but know that each time was a moment where he let himself be soft, feel things, and stop thinking about his self-loathing for six seconds.

Kaneki is my poor little meow meow because he is a man that tries so hard and gets so far, only to be hit in the face with the frying pan of life over and over. He makes the most of it, though. And with his literal pack of found family at his side, he will go so very far.

Attached below is some memes for your viewing pleasure. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

Look forward to part 3!

#hi waffles #butcher bird #kaneki #waffles blorbos #Blorbo Rant Series #blorbo tag #blorbo from my fanfiction #poor little war criminal series

[justpartofmylife]

Pride

“Pride” has been seen as “joy” or “celebration” for most people. So maybe I must talk expectedly about those. However I want to talk from the weakness of myself. I can’t avoid it to tell my truth. The joy and pain always lives together inside me. If I just hide the one side, it’s same as telling a lie. I’m not sure how honest I can be, still I’ll try my best.

When I used the word “pride” in general, I think I used as “arrogance”, “vanity”, or any similar meanings. It was unacceptable for me to say in a positive way, because I thought it was inappropriate to show it. The society where I came believes in hiding their emotions. I was one of it. Even if it was about queer’s “pride”, I couldn’t find myself there. First, I thought I was heterosexual/romantic until resent. Second, most images of “pride” were telling “love”. But this “love” was not about a person who is aromantic or asexual. It was full with romance and sex.

Self-hate made more difficult to receive it. I can’t say I’m proud of myself. I know I have toxic, violent, apathetic feeling in me and I had acted like that to many people. Sometimes it was words. Sometimes it was physical. Sometimes it was avoidance. And the worst thing is, I sometimes felt pleasure and didn’t doubt about it. This was based on my self-unconfidence and my fear. Being alone had been contemplated as tragedy and worthless about my life. Since this,I tried to hide my ugliness from everyone, from me. So I continued it. It was a spiral. When I realized what I have done, it was too late. My shape inside me had became hideous. I made it that way. How can I use “pride” when I’m like that?

I knew the word “aromantic” for a long time, but I hadn’t thought that I was one of them. Even I started to consider it, I couldn’t believe myself and my answer because of the unconfidence. So I decided to find it from others. I try to meet other asexual/aromantic and queer people in London. Initially, I couldn’t speak to anyone, but I communicated with them little by little. They didn’t have an actual answer. However, talking with them let me feel the connection to the world. They were not my friends or family, but they shared many emotions and thoughts so I shared mines too. That healed me deeply. Everyone had a different journey and it illuminated my pieces of life unexpectedly. I found my pain I did’t notice, my loneliness in my life, my messy feelings, and my joy inside me. Those pieces had made me to discover myself.

I had realized that I was giving up to find connection to someone in my life. And I also found out that I always wanted connection. I thought I had no problem in me but I wasn’t. For a long time I believed I need punishment to destroy myself so I could stop the spiral, but what I really needed to do was accepting myself so I can face the truth and live in this world. No one told me how to do that. If I knew it, I could’ve found more joy in my life.

When you search the meaning of ”pride” in dictionary, they’ll show this:

1. a feeling of pleasure and satisfaction that you get because you or people connected with you have done or got something good

2. your feeling of your own worth and respect for yourself

There is still suffers in my daily life, and it’s even more painful than before. But I know I have “pride” inside me. If I could tell about it, considering all of these meanings, I will answer to be myself including my weakness. The certitude of my sexuality is not important. I want to face and carry my every sin and my wound to be myself. And because of my “pride”, I need to resist what’s happening in my world. They are telling lies and wrong ways to connect with someone. I don’t want anyone to get in the spiral like me. That’s the way to respect myself. Maybe I’m not strong enough, but I know I can. Because I know my “pride” always lights and leads my journey of my life.

2023. 6. 8

[ghoulangerlee]

a long rambly post about my very complicated feelings with sex under a read more I need to vent a bit

I think I'm old enough now to admit that sex has always been something confusing for me?? Like! I dunno. For a long time I thought I was ace but I'm not, I just have a lot of self shame that makes it hard for me to see myself as someone desirable

it took me a while to like be comfortable taking my clothes off in front of my own damn husband? I'm p sure I slept in a bra for a bit when I first moved in, too.

I thought for a while I was trans bc I had very complicated feelings about my own genitalia. I didn't like my boobs bc I could see weird men looking at them and sexualizing me when I was a teen bc I've had a big chest since I was 15.

I started writing smut bc it became a way for me to idk put myself into the shoes of a character and explore idk what I thought an ideal sexual encounter would be like.

I practically perfected how to get myself off when I was younger because I always felt like, if I have sex with anyone they're gonna focus on their own pleasure just because they're gonna figure out that penetration alone doesn't get me off and that I need something more than that. So because it's too hard to make me come, the person is just gonna focus on themselves.

Not that it mattered bc I didn't actually do anything with anyone else until I was in my late 20s, just bc I've always been awkward, strange, not sexually appealing or attractive enough for people. Fat. A lot of other very negative things.

It's hard for me to talk about this stuff out loud bc something about being inappropriately touched in the 4th grade by a classmate and having a teacher laugh in your face when you tell her...it just hurts you in a way I guess. And then the subsequent teasing it brought on by the kid who did it... It became shameful. Idk. ("See even she doesn't believe it happened because you're so ugly" lmao) And transitioned later on into me being too ashamed to talk about my wants and needs and fears out loud.

I have thankfully gotten over my complicated feelings about my bits, and I don't mind my boobs so much anymore because I'm good at wearing clothes that are slightly too big. Or unflattering. Like I would love to be one of those people who wear flattering clothes but I am simply too self conscious for it. There's like two wolves fighting in me, one wants to be hot and the other wants to be hidden lmao.

And it's like so funny that me, having written all sorts of smut over these years, have all these complicated feelings, and be unable to tell my husband exactly what I want and how I want it.

I guess that's why fiction exists lmao so I can live vicariously through characters who can say what they want and how they want it without feeling an ounce of shame.

Meanwhile if I even think about wanting to ask for something I freeze up and talk myself out of it before I can even get the words out.

Like I dunno, I was hoping 30 would bring me some sort of revelation on how to stop second guessing my needs and ask for things, but it really hasn't.

I dunno, I just felt like I needed to get this off my chest haha. But like it sucks 99% of the time because the bc shot I'm on always makes me so horny after I get it initially and I am left to suffer bc of a box I've put myself into.

#tmi.exe #personal.exe #brief mention of SA

[writteninsunshine]

I Would Drown The Rings In Blood To Keep You Safe - Fizzarolli/Asmodeus, One-Sided OFC/Fizzarolli - NSFWish

Title: I Would Drown The Rings In Blood To Keep You Safe

Author: Keith

Fandom: Helluva Boss

Setting: Ozzie’s

Pairing: Fizzarolli/Asmodeus | Ozzie, One-Sided Original Female Character(s)/Fizzarolli

Characters: Fizzarolli, Asmodeus | Ozzie, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s)

Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Romance

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 2351

Type Of Work: One-Shot, Day 7 Of 30 Days Of Fizzarozzie

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Non-Con Touching, Stalking, Abuse, Assault, Character Death, Minor Violence, Blood, Magic, Unsanitary, Sort Of, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except Aja, Nikiva, and Brick! 

Summary: Ozzie usually was proud of his self-imposed title of "a fucker, not a fighter," but he was still a general in an army.

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a Helluva Boss Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Gimme-A-Thrust! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Tumblr/Twitter!

I don’t know if anyone will know this, but Aja is also the same OC from ‘No’ Means ‘No,’ she seems to be good for these kinds of fics. I really do need to actually like, write her out properly. One of these days I might end up doing a character study of her. At the moment she’s kind of flat and her whole personality is Fizzarolli Obsessed. I’ll figure it out someday. Today isn’t that day.

I was trying to get day 15 done on time but due to IRL junk that was out of my control, it’s gonna be up late. Managed to get days 16 and 7 done, though, as well as another fic that’s just a little short thing. If I get day 15 edited or not today, we will see. 

30 Days Of Fizzarozzie Fic Masterlist

I Would Drown The Rings In Blood To Keep You Safe

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She’d taken it too far.

Asmodeus was the kind of demon that didn’t particularly go looking for a fight. He hadn’t really been a fighter for several sets of centuries, at this point in his life, and for the most part, he didn’t care to return to being a warlord. That time for him had come and gone, and he had more or less taken to a life of peace.

“I’m a fucker, not a fighter.”

He’d said it several times throughout the years, enough to be noticeable, and whenever someone tried to correct him, he’d deny ‘lover’ being more appropriate.

Occasionally, and the instances were few and far between, there were times that he struggled with remembering the pain of falling, of being cast from the Creator’s side, and his shoulders, clavicles, and back ached. Perhaps he was so good with Fizzarolli’s phantom pains because he’d lived with his own for so long most didn’t think he’d ever even had wings. It wasn’t like he really talked about it, not even with the other Kings, and he had no intention of starting now.

It was rare that these nights came crawling in, rearing their ugly heads and souring his mood. He was distracted, his pleasure distant, and he seemed to dim in color. Not only did his face glow less, but he seemed to pale entirely. Nothing interested him, either, and he sighed a lot, withdrew more, and Fizzarolli had been worried about him. He hadn’t even wanted to fuck before work, claimed that he didn’t feel like it, and that was so not like him.

The nights that Ozzie watched the show from the one-way window in his office were so few that Olli often forgot that he had one. Sure, he saw Ozzie going in, dealing with club-related paperwork, sending Brick out with things, or even handling paychecks from it, but that was all it was to him. A place for work stuff, or a quick fuck away from prying eyes when Olli had been too much of a tease during his set, not somewhere that Ozzie could go to hide.

When he bounced up to the balcony and found his lover missing from it, he found himself feeling small and sheepish. Had he done something? Did Ozzie not want to be around him? There were too many questions, too many inferences to be made, and he found himself staying glued to the balcony instead of going to look for his lover. It was more important to force himself to smile for the club than it was to go find out why Ozzie sounded like he was sobbing in the room across the hallway.

Maybe Fizzarolli shouldn’t have been drinking on the job, but he always at least pretended to, so he didn’t see the harm in it. Olli wasn’t exactly a social drinker unless he was with Barbie, and then they tended to find less than negative self-control between them. For the most part, he didn’t get a drop of alcohol in his system if he wasn’t with Barbie or upset, and if he did, he always had a friend or someone around with him. 

Tonight, he didn’t want to bother anyone. He just needed a few sips of Beelzejuice between acts, just get a little looser, a little happier, it wasn’t going to be a problem. So what if he was a little sloppier, a little less coordinated, a little gigglier? Everyone loved a silly little guy, Hell, most of the time he knew Ozzie did, too. Even Barbie always said he was funnier when he was drunk, but a lot of that probably had to do with both of them sitting sideways and talking shit.

So, maybe he did a little more than take a few sips. Maybe he waved off Nikiva’s concern when she’d caught him pounding a couple of shots of Mad Cap Vodka behind the bar. Maybe he stored the bottle of Beelzejuice he’d swiped in his pocket instead of putting it somewhere safe, and maybe when he stumbled back to the stage, he tried to hide another drink when he’d had his back to the audience.

Ozzie’s distractions hit a fevered pitch when the searing pain in his back made him crow in misery. His eyes were screwed shut, his body a tense line on the couch as he rolled over to stuff his face into the soft white leather. It would have to be fixed or replaced later because he felt more than he heard his claws digging into the couch and shredding it. There weren’t many demons that he thought would understand, he was one of the very few fallen angels that had been fully removed from their wings. They hadn’t grown back, they hadn’t transformed, they had been severed in a way that he could still feel like it was a fresh wound. If someone told him he was bleeding from the long-scarred injuries, he would have believed them.

Hours could have passed before he managed to finally get some kind of lid on it. He hadn’t thought he’d need the meds that Belphegor had so lovingly afforded him at no cost, but he’d had enough. Once the six purple pills had fallen past his lips, he swallowed them dry, both hands clenched around his thick, heavy wood desk until he thought, maybe, he didn’t feel the blood dripping down his back. 

Three powder pink pills followed because he was desperate to start feeling like himself again, and these were a fast track to it. The ecstasy was the best in all of Hell, his personal recipe and Belphegor’s pharmaceutical prowess rolled into a sweet little cherry-flavored pill that literally melted under your tongue. Most demons didn’t need more than one, but most demons also weren’t fourteen feet tall.

When the pills swimming in his system finally began to hit, he could hear the show was wrapping up. Fizzarolli had already closed up the festivities, but the band was playing a few songs as people cleared out of the club. Ozzie had every intention of going out to find him and apologizing for how he’d been acting (preferably on the balcony on his knees), but when he crossed the hallway separating the office from his usual viewing space, there was no Fizzarolli. Peering over it showed no sign of him, either, and he narrowed his glowing eyes. 

Once he hit the club floor, his sweeping eyes were getting more and more frantic with every step, though he did his best not to show his panic outwardly. Maybe Fizzarolli’s dressing room would be more promising. He probably would have to pull him out of it, and avoid some pouting, but that was fine. Making it up to Fizzarolli was always the best part of their few and far between disagreements, and he would stand by that. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to explain himself, though. Talking about his emotions would never be easy for him.

Being as tall as he was, Ozzie knew he couldn’t necessarily go down the hallway to the dressing room like this, but he had a pretty good way of dealing with that. Returning to his office was his best bet at doing this, though, and so he turned tail halfway through the club to put on his little glamour. His usual dramatics in regards to doing this spell was forgone for the agony he was still in, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t still going to do it.

The handsome little imp that left his office after a couple of minutes didn’t seem to call any attention, and he tipped his head at the appropriate people and skirted past a few others like he knew what he was doing. His delicate face topped with short, outwardly bent horns and a shock of dark fluff offered shy smiles as he passed by other demons handling their closing routines. His dainty hooves didn’t even seem to affect the green carpet beneath them, and he was almost amazed by it. Being so large, typically, he didn’t have much experience with being short and light in comparison to his usual form.

A playful wink, a stuck-out tongue, and gentle waves took him to Fizzarolli’s dressing room, where he had to take pause when he heard a loud crash inside it. Muffled yelling, and a metallic twang got his attention, and the imp threw the door open with a loud bang as it slammed into the wall. A slim succubus kneeled over Fizzarolli, a freshly emptied vase clamped tightly in one hand. The other hand was fisted in his cap, and a snarl died on her lips as her suddenly green, pupilless eyes shot over to look at the broad-shouldered imp standing there. One of her knees held Olli’s extended leg down, and he winced when her grip tightened on his cap; He was desperate to keep it on his head, holding onto it when he turned tearful eyes on the newcomer.

“What do you want?” The succubus snapped, assuming that he was probably one of the employees running around doing menial things. At first, he wanted to play her game, run her around until he could get her out, preferably into Brick’s arms, but there was no way he could think long enough to be that charming. 

Fizzarolli looked dazed, at best, and definitely kept his eyes on the new imp in the room. His head tilted a little bit, and his well-marinated brain kept trying to turn that face over in his head until he finally gave up with a little sigh. He’d opened his mouth, but her knee dug into the fold of his prosthetic and his hip, and he hissed in pain. The pink-haired demon growled at the new addition to close the door with him on the other side of it, and the tone had his eyelids fluttering before his golden eyes sharpened into slits.

His eyes narrowed into slits that quickly began to glow a vibrant green as the red skin split and fractured, and the succubus staggered back as the imp let out an angered cry. Lilac fur sprouted from beneath the flesh somehow devoid of blood, and the woman’s clenched jaw and wide eyes belied her desire to flee. In no time at all, the imp-sized creature had filled the entire room, and the succubus tried on a nervous smile when she realized just who she was looking at. 

Oh boy.

“Close your eyes, Olli Baby,” Ozzie purred, his voice lighthearted and sweet as he encouraged Olli with a circular motion of his index finger. When Fizzarolli followed suit, hiding his face in the tails of his cap and behind his hands, Ozzie turned his glare back on the woman now trying to figure out how to edge out of the room. The demon king’s eyes widened, and then even a little more as they emitted an awful yellow-green light that petrified her on the spot. It wouldn’t do to mess up Fizzarolli’s space with blood and broken concrete, so he backed out of the room carefully and grabbed the stone demon once he was clear, “Go ahead and get ready, Baby. We’ll go home soon.”

The dichotomy between his calm voice and tender expression and the brute force with which he banged the succubus’ rigid body against the wall as he left the room chilled even Olli to the bone.

With that, he took the stony succubus out back behind the club, taking a deep breath. He could have done worse for sure, but he had decided to go this route for his lover’s sake. After all, Fizzarolli was intensely squeamish, and if he saw even a drop of blood he could (and would) pass out, potentially in his own vomit. 

That didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to suffer, however. Ozzie knew that she was still capable of feeling what was happening to her, and when he set her down and lifted the dumpster closest to the back door in the alley, he knew she was terrified. Maybe she couldn’t show it, but he knew that she’d be quaking if she had the ability to move. This was honestly a better option than anything else he culd do, cleaner and simpler, which meant he could go back to Olli much quicker. Plus, Brick and Nikiva wouldn’t have too much trouble cleaning up, since the mess would be more or less contained. It had been a long time since Ozzie remembered the bloodthirst that had controlled him eons ago, but he felt it in this moment like it was the only blood in his veins. Hefting the dumpster over her head, he narrowed his glowing eyes and growled as he spoke.

“Now, this is why people don’t mess with my baby,” Ozzie told her, his voice dark and face aglow with his impassioned rage. The bull and goat cheered silently at his shoulders, and he raised it a little higher, “But you won’t be able to anymore, will you?”

Of course, she didn’t answer, and he dropped the dumpster suddenly, thoroughly crushing her with a loud, sickening crunch. Blood sprayed out from beneath it, and Ozzie stepped back quickly in order to avoid getting it on himself. Olli didn’t need to see this. Ozzie was sure that he knew violence was involved, but if he had visible proof, he knew Olli would flip out.

When he finally returned to the club, Fizzarolli was waiting near the door with Brick, chatting nervously as he kept his eyes on his surroundings.

“Ready to go, Baby?” Ozzie asked upon his arrival, smiling at him gently.

“Y-yeah.” Olli replied quickly, lifting his arms, “Uppies?”

“Uppies.” Holding his hand out, he let the jester climb into it, nuzzling his face with all three heads after a moment, “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah.” Burying his face in the other’s vibrant mane, Fizzarolli didn’t lift his head and open his eyes until they were home and he could smell the sandalwood air fresheners that Ozzie liked to keep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: Well, there we are! I really didn’t know how to end this one and then it sort of just happened, so I hope that someone at least found this fun! I think Aja is literally just here to suffer, oops.

Prompt: 30 Days Of Fizzarozzie Day 7 - Protective

#Helluva Boss Fanfic #Helluva Boss Fanfiction #Fizzarozzie #Fizzmodeus #Helluva Boss Fizzarozzie #Helluva Boss Fizzmodeus

[ladymarycrawley]

Perfect to me - Mason Mount

Here's the long anticipated angst piece (I talked about it like a month ago, I'vebeen having this in the drafts for a while now). It's based off personal feelings and my actual body shape.

Tag list: @masonxomount​

Warning: body image, body issues, angst

Just tell me if you'd like to be added to my tag list 💕

You've been having rough days at work lately: your boss made you angry, you had a lot of deadlines to respect and it all affected your self esteem and your thoughts. 

When you got back home, you swiftly discarded your clothes and headed to the bathroom in order to take a well deserved relaxing bath. You were so stressed that the said bath wasn't relaxing at all: your mind wandered to the most dark places, intrusive thoughts making its way into your brain once again. 

All you could do was cry, since you were feeling the most miserable being on Earth.

You tried to muffle your sighs by covering your face with your hands; you didn't want Mason to hear you and get worried. He already had a lot of things to think about, you didn't want a whiny girlfriend to be an addition to the list. 

Half an hour later you managed to get out of the bathtub, drying your wet body with a bathrobe.

Then you entered your bedroom to take some clean underwear and you got a new breakdown while looking at yourself in the mirror. You learnt to accept your body, even if it wasn't the most perfect thing ever: you had small breasts (a less subtle way to say you're flat chested) and wide hips, big butt but you were somehow ok with it...until that night.

You wanted to rip your flesh off your bones. You were feeling so ugly.

How could Mason love you? You were so out of proportion, so -

"Huu that's a good way to welcome your boyfriend home" You didn't smile at Mason's naughty joke that interrupted you flow of thoughts. You didn't even look at him.

You just stood there staring at your naked figure in the mirror. 

"Y/N?"

"I'm awful"

"What?"

"I'm so ugly, look at my body: there's no proportion, there isn't anything good about it. Look at these" You pulled at your love handles with a disgusted expression on your face.

He wrapped his arms around your body. With closed eyes, he rubbed his nose against your clenched jaw that instinctively relaxed under that simple gesture. 

Mason tilted his head so it was now resting in the crook of your neck. His hot breath was soon followed by his lips applying a gentle pressure on your neck, trailing down to your shoulder and cleavage.

His every move went along with his nose and beard tickling your sensitive skin and that gave you a strange feeling at the pit of your stomach: it made you relax and smile at the same time. It was such a turn on too.

But in that moment you just wanted to feel your boyfriend close to you, showing your body the love you were failing to give yourself. He had enough for the both of you. 

After a long silence, your boyfriend took the floor. "You're so beautiful, your body is perfect to me"

"I have a big fat ass and the smallest tits ever"

"I like your small tits and your big ass, you know it drives me crazy...and your love handles are my favourite part to place my hands on. You know I love to bite them"

The last sentence is whispered in your ear and it finally drawn you to a smile.

"But you're perfect, Mason. I don't deserve you"

"Hey hey stop saying these bullshits, ok? Nobody's perfect here"

He then looked at your figure reflected in the mirror. 

"All I see is the beautiful woman I'm in love with, the rest is meaningless"

You sighed and relaxed your head against his shoulder. 

"I love you Mase, thank you for being in my life"

Mason pressed a kiss to your temple, leaning his head to the side so it was against yours. 

"You don't have to thank me" He then cupped your breasts in his hands. "It's a pleasure for me to fuck this beautiful body of yours" He roughly whispered these words, kissing then your neck.

You smiled and covered his hands with yours.

"I didn't even ask you how your day was, I just came here being a whiny burden…"

"If you say something negative about yourself again, I'll cancel the Mamma mia date night I set for you and make you watch all Marvel movies instead"

A little laugh left your lips. "No, please, the Marvel marathon no!"

A smile appeared on his lips too, since he was happy he finally managed to make you happy and a bit more relaxed.

"But I'm the worst girlfriend, I didn't even say hello to you when you got back nor asked you if you were alright…"

"You always do it, don't worry: we have all night to catch up on everything and make up for lost time…" Your boyfriend started to lower his head again, kissing your neck once again "...in all senses"

A mischievous smile was painted on your faces. You turned around to face him, your arms around his neck as he placed his hands on your bum.

"Go get dressed, angel. Movie date night is waiting for us" Before leaving the room he places a quick peck to your lips and a slap on your butt cheek.

Your smile got even wider, you were the luckiest girl ever.

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #football imagines #chelsea imagines #england nt imagine #england nt #chelsea #chesea fc #premier league #premier league imagine #football fics #mason mount imagine

[hansolmates]

shiver | 01 (m)

banner done by the wonderful @dnrequests​

summary; jungkook changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. when he returns for a christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. in exchange, jungkook craves a taste of you pairing; bad boy!jungkook x church girl!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers, brief childhood friends to enemies, fwb!au, catholic guilt, jungkook is a meanie who eventually turns into a soft tsundere, bicuriosity, sexual exploration, virgin!oc, eventual smut—in this installment: touching over the clothes, mc is hornee, *pulls out cards against humanity* “a gentle caress of the inner thigh”, panty kissin, mc is a big ol’ pushover and hopeful for jkk:(( w/c; 1.9k a/n; it’s here! aaaaaa!!! i’ve been really eally realllyyyyyy nervous to post this. even though this is just a drabble series  let me know how you feel about it! enjoy [shiver masterpost]

“Oh, you’re so dead.” 

Jeon Jungkook isn’t thaaaat buff, he's more of a skinny kind of muscular. You don’t understand the hype, why everyone croons over Jungkook’s strength and physique. However, how else could you explain Jungkook being able to climb the currently dilapidated fire escape to the top floor of the chapel. The ladder is rusted beyond repair and is definitely a fire hazard rather than a fire escape. Yet he barely breaks a sweat doing it, and he wipes the minor sheen off his brow with the back of his hand. There’s some soot and whatever nasty residue from the fire escape that gets on his face, a black streak marring his already annoying face. He’s currently wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic “hello.” It makes you sneer, your two consciousness (inappropriate and appropriate) warring against each other to determine whether you still find this man attractive or not. 

Convincing yourself that Jungkook is ugly is the worst quick-fix idea you’ve ever had. 

The words of your Aunties, the family friends in the church, echo in your ears. Jungkook’s bad. They’d say over and over. It would cause you to snort and giggle, unable to imagine what sort of things he’s done to warrant such a cliché label. Yet some of the girls your age, girls that have gone off to college agree with sultry looks and longing eyes that yes, Jungkook’s bad. So bad, it’s good. 

You haven’t a clue what he’s actually done to earn such a hushed title, his parents are lip-tight about his doings, unless it’s his achievements in the architecture graduate program. You hear things, though. Things that make you shamefully green with envy, envious of sin. 

As soon as he finds proper footing in the storage room, he goes to the closet, immediately finding his backup clothes. They’re plain white button-downs, awkward long shirts with no shape or definition to them. They belong to the church, and no one ever uses them because they’re stiff and itchy. Yet Jungkook wears them like it’s tailored, and you have to look away when he quickly knots the bottom half of the shirt, fashioning it into a tasteful double knot in order to cinch his lean waist.

“Pretty sure it was just you that saw me,” Jungkook says dismissively, “so it’s fine.” 

This bristles you the wrong way, and you put down the catering covers you were supposed to return to the storage room. You smooth out your Sunday dress, this shade of Boring Beige looking particularly pale in the morning sun. “How do you know I won’t tell?” you turn your nose up. 

“Because I know,” he doesn’t even look at you, focusing on rolling the sleeves of his shirt. You weaken when you see the black shadowing across his forearm. That’s new, then again you haven’t seen him since last Christmas.   

“Know what?” 

“That you have a crush on me,” Jungkook says into the air like it’s common knowledge, adjusting the leather jacket on top of his outfit so the white-startched collar pops on top, “I mean, it’s hard for anyone not to know. You’ve been into me since youth group, Bunny.”  

You hold your breath, counting to ten as you close the door behind you. A vision of you playing “Duck Duck Goose” as a five year old plays in your head, where you’d pick a bushy, big-eyed Jeon Jungkook each time, hopping over to him to pat his fluffy head so he’d chase you around. 

It’s old news, your puppy love for Jungkook. How could you not like him? He's clever and sweet with his mother and always told the best stories in youth group meetings.  Everyone thought your affections were so sweet, and while that attention weaned over time, your feelings have only increased the more self-aware you’ve become. 

With a mind as open and honest is yours, it’s hard to ignore how well Jungkook has grown. What has also grown is your curiosities since the two of you have moved onto university. Jungkook goes to the university uptown, a far drive which only forces him attend masses during the holidays. You attended the local community college, wrapping up a bachelors in some vague major that you’re not attached to. You’re currently looking around for some graduate schools, but unfortunately you’ve been so wrapped up doing duties for Pastor Nina that you haven’t been able to look around properly. 

Jungkook’s probably living a fun life, with the way he’s grown rough and loose, you resent him. 

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s right in front of you, trapping you between his body and the door.  

“Don’t be embarrassed, Bunny,” you furrow your brows, nearly growing cross-eyed when he leans in. “I think your crush is cute.” 

You’re not sure what he thinks of you. Sure, he considered everyone a friend when you two were in youth group, but that was youth group. Premeditated, parents forcing other children to do the same things with each other for years upon years in the hope they’ll practice together forever and ever. Jungkook did not want that, evident from the way he dipped his duties as soon as he got into university. 

You hate how easy he dips back into it though, calling you Bunny and making you feel like a little girl all over again. Bunny, because you’d hop around to him whenever he was in sight. Bunny, because Jungkook had been fondly compared to the wide-eyed, diamond-toothed creature. It was cute when you were five. Now, it’s just discomfiting. 

“Don’t call me that,” you bite, “and I don’t like you anymore.” 

“Sure you don’t,” he rolls his eyes, and you flinch when Jungkook’s hand rests on the curve of your waist, fingers slotting themselves between the pleats of your skirt. “That’s why you’re not moving away when I’m about to put my hand under your skirt. Because you don’t like me.” 

You press yourself further into the door, your skin hot and vibrating. So warm, you feel like you could melt through the door and escape from Jungkook’s gaze. Sure, the young ladies in the congregation talk. Maybe you’ve heard a story or two about Jungkook being seedy, a result of being repressed after years and years of stiff routines and expectations thrust upon him. You could care less about Jungkook’s sexual appetite, until this appetite has reached you. 

“Mm, you’re pretty,” Jungkook’s eyes roam your form, the daisy white blouse doing nothing to barricade Jungkook’s sudden interest in you, “you’ve never been touched like this, have you?” 

“I’ve touched myself like this,” you hiss in defense, and it’s more out of anger than in pleasure. You don’t need a man to comfort you, but Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in mirth at the new information. 

“That’s really sexy,” Jungkook slips down, roams his fingers down to your ankles and plays with the silver buckles of your Mary Janes. You shiver when his hands trail up up up to your knees, the swell of your thighs, and catch right under the elastic seam that holds your secrets together, “but I’ll have you know, it’s different when you have someone hold your pleasure in their hands.” 

You’re in the storage room of your church, fifteen minutes before the Christmas mass, with Jeon Jungkook’s head between your legs. Your skirt is long, and Jungkook doesn’t bother to ride it up your waist. 

It feels more forbidden that way, Jungkook hiding under the fabric of your skirt to get to your honeyed center, sneaking his way in with rough hands and soft touches.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper, pressing your full spine against the wooden door, “we shouldn’t. N-not like this.”

What is wrong with you? Is it sheer curiosity? Do you just want to know what it finally, finally feels like? You should be pushing him away. There’s red lights flashing back and forth in your brain like sirens. Yet, do you really want to turn away the attention you’ve been aching for years? 

You imagined your first time to be relatively special. The bare minimum, a bed, a talk, and a partner you’re mutually committed to. None of those things are met. Now you understand why all the young women in church whisper about sex like this. It’s a spur of the moment, it’s an unbridled pleasure you don’t want to stop, no matter how forbidden and sinful the act is.  

“How else then?” you feel his deep voice straight through your panties, his lips whispering between the pink cotton like he’s sinking liquid heat into your skin. “I can’t sink my fingers into your sweet cunt during the candle lighting. Or when we open presents with the family after. That would be inappropriate.” 

Your replies come out in breaths, puffs of air that conceal the moans you so badly want to let out as Jungkook pokes and rubs at you. He does nothing beyond the cotton fabric, only slides two fingers up and down your slit as he gathers the arousal between his digits. 

“So wet already, that’s so sexy,” he’s kissing your core, and you sigh fretfully at the pleasure that feels so close yet so far away. 

“P-please, Jungkook…” 

“Please what?” Jungkook teases, fingers slipping back and forth between the elastic of your underwear, “please stop? Please touch me? Please fuck me?” 

The church bell answers that, and Jungkook’s nose knocks right into your bud at the sudden intrusion. You yelp at the jarring stimulation, pulling him from under your skirts as the loud noise echoes in the room. Both of you wince at the pain, the moment interjected. 

“You first,” Jungkook casually opens the door for you, as if he didn’t have you ten seconds away from begging him to make you come. 

You don’t even look at him as you dash away, not bothering to take the elevator in favor of running off the heat. Two minutes before the procession. The church is packed to the brim, only the back seats left. Your family probably gave up on waiting for you up in the front. As you sit down in the corner, you’re momentarily distracted by the beauty of a decorated church on Christmas. Even though you’re part of the decorating committee and commanded most of the design, seeing the stained glass lit up with fairy lights and the poinsettia plants blooming burgundy on the altar, you’re impressed. 

“There’s a draft here, you must be cold.” Jungkook talks to you so politely, a perfect picture of a gentleman as he drapes his leather jacket over your lap. He speaks as if it’s a pleasant surprise, a childhood friend he hasn’t seen in nearly a year. 

You can’t tell him to move when people are watching and Jungkook is seconds from interrupting the procession, so you reluctantly scoot over so he can sit next to you. His scent overwhelms you even more now that you’ll have to sit next to him for a whole hour, lavender and vanilla overtaking your pew. 

The jacket is heavy and heady on your lap, and you force yourself to stare straight ahead. Jungkook cannot weaken you like this, not anymore. 

Thirty minutes later, his fingers are hovering at the start of the homily, caressing your thighs under the jacket with his big hands. A draft? Please. You clamp your thighs together, knocking your knees and hoping they’d lock together for the rest of the mass. Jungkook’s a master key, easily parting his way as if your muscles are pure jelly. You turn your head sharply, glaring at him with all the fire in the world. 

“Careful,” Jungkook mouths, eyes flickering to the symbol atop the podium, “he’s watching.” 

His fingers finally brush the damp blush cotton of your panties, and you shudder. 

#ficswithluv #btsguild #btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #bts smut #bts fic #jungkook angst #bts angst #kpop fic #hansolmates

[darthmaulification]

Hey, I want to make a request

In your Maul’s nsfw alphabet you said that he is afraid of hurting reader during sex, right? So, could you please write smth were this happens? Thank you!!

A/N: ..... anon..... the absolute Way you have me experiencing a cataclysm with this... i am imploding... 

thank you very much for requesting this, it was also a very good and welcome challenge for me to write. 😊👍 

hope you enjoy!! 💗

content: a lil bit o’ smut!, some angst??, but also lots of comfort and fluff!!, kinda sorta implied afab!reader??, maul commits a big oopsie on accident, crying during sex, blood and injury, maul gets angry at himself, but also soft!maul 🥺, lots of kissing, happy ending of course 🥰

word count: 2,334

Maul’s vigorous thrusting is complimented deliciously by the sloppy, desperate kisses he leaves all over the skin his mouth can reach. His crimson hands grip your wrists in a vice above your head, keeping them trapped against the bed. You moan into the sheets, arching up against him, hips tilting, silently begging him to go faster, harder, please, Maul...

“Harder, sweet girl?” Maul growls teasingly from above you, answering the plea you hadn’t realized you vocalized. He obeys, and you cry out his name when his hips clash into yours, drilling his cock into you, almost causing your knees to give from the force. The obscene yet beautiful sound of skin smacking together floats into your ears, mingling with Maul’s grunts and your persistent moaning.

Maul presses against you, the fiery skin of his bare chest flush against the arch of your back. The snapping of his hips make you rock in rhythmic tandem, and with each one you feel your peak nearing. Maul groans into the dip of your shoulder blades, his breath hot on the nape of your neck, where he licks across your flushed, dewy skin and leaves wet trails.

“Say my name again, my love.” He leaves a flat-tongued lick up your neck, nibbling at your ear. One of his hands drop from your wrists and travels down your side, rough fingers igniting sparks inside you. Maul kneads your waist, your belly, before clutching your hip. The brace allows him to further pound himself into you, and you see stars.

“Maul, Maul!” You scream his name, all high-pitched and airy, the pleasure toe-curling and promising of a powerful, sweet release. Maul exhales a rather handsome laugh into your ear, golden eyes glazed over with lust and something else wild. Eyes fluttering shut, you feel him suck a love bite into the nook where your neck and shoulder meet, arching your head back and against his shoulder.

Like a prayer, his name tumbles from your lips over and over again, the lamentation pleading and desperate. Your core throbs and clenches around your lover, a telltale sign of orgasm on the horizon. Everything seems to slow down... 

But then Maul bites. Hard. Your eyes snap open.

The sinking of sharp teeth into the flesh of your shoulder is so poignant, it pierces through the thick, lustful haze and roughly pulls you back to reality. You shriek, one most certainly not out of pleasure, but actual pain. It causes Maul to abruptly pull out and back, releasing your wrists in the process. At the same time you feel the emptiness of him leaving, a white-hot fire erupts from where Maul had definitely broken the skin and you writhe.

“Ow.” The whimper escapes in one word, voice thick, as tears immediately glaze over your eyes. Blinking furiously to keep them at bay, you squirm lethargically into an upright position, sitting on your knees.

“I’m...” From behind you Maul starts to say something, but his voice cuts out when you look down over your shoulder and reach a trembling hand up to the bite. When you actually see the wound, that’s when the tears start rolling down your cheeks. It’s... bad. 

The bite is a perfect oval of teeth indents and grooves, most of them deep and bleeding, the skin around them a harsh red and raised. The skin around it is an ugly mix of crimson, dark purple bruising, and pink with irritation. The entire area is swollen and pulsing with ache. Bottom lip wobbling, you trace a hesitant finger along the edge of the bite and the touch stings. You pull your hand back with a shaky gasp.

“My love, I...” Maul starts speaking again but stops and swallows. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, and you’re not exactly sure why. The tears are falling profusely now, and you shudder back heavier sobs. The room goes dreadfully silent, save for your small, quiet cries. You can feel Maul’s stare on you, more specifically on the injury he caused.

“I hurt you. I hurt you.” He repeats to himself, the tone of his voice inscrutable. He suddenly clambers up and off of the bed, the mattress shaking gently, and you listen as his footsteps disappear out of the room. The room is left thick with pain and sorrow, and also a stewing shame that was left hovering after Maul spoke. You look back at the bite after another round of tears pours from your eyes. Oh, Maul...

Footfalls sound again, and Maul reenters the room as your examining the darkening wound, particularly the trails of blood that have by now reached your waist. His heart clenches with a terrible ache, and guilt and anger bubble to the surface, stiffening him. He hurt you, he did. Maul almost doesn’t want to approach, almost thinks he shouldn’t, but you need the bacta.

You don’t look at Maul’s face when he sits next to you, though not as close he usually would, because you’re unsure if you want to see the expression that must be on it. Instead, you focus on his hands, at the wet rag, bacta, and bandages he’s holding. You also notice how his hands are quivering.

“Can I clean it?” Maul asks in an uncharacteristically quiet tone, though he’s very obviously seething with barely capped rage. That somewhat familiar self-loathing Maul gets from time to time radiates off of him, as does guilt. You sniffle, and bob your head yes. The pain is less sharp now, but the wound still needs to be dressed.

Maul says nothing as he wipes away the almost dried blood trails, or as he very tenderly dabs at the puffy wound, or when he pauses at his teeth marks that are purpling now, or even when he smears the bacta over them. The whole time, he works mechanically and in deafening silence. By the time Maul has placed a bandage over the bite, the cooling of the bacta has numbed your shoulder to a soft, dull ache and the hurt is all but gone.

“Maul...” You start softly after you feel his hands leave you, gaze climbing up his arms to his face. The shame-ridden expression on his face makes your heart sink, how his downcast golden eyes are aflame with guilt and swirling with fury. He doesn’t look at you as you turn fully to face him, and recoils when you place a hand on his cheek. His body, ever warm, is stiff beneath your touch.

“It’s okay.” You murmur and Maul’s gaze snaps up to meet yours, the anger flaring. His square jaw tenses and he shakes off your hand.

“No, it’s not. I hurt you.” And while you see and hear that familiar wrath and that unfamiliar guilt in his expression and voice, it never occurred to you before that Maul was also afraid. It makes you misty-eyed. You shake your head, shuffling closer to him.

“No, no, no— Maul, it was an accident.” You plead, placing your hands on either side of his face, rubbing circles with your thumbs. Usually, that simple touch calms him down, but this time Maul grabs your wrists and pulls his face from your grasp.

“I hurt you.” He says again, voice a hiss as he stares at you with conflicted, pained eyes, “I fucking made you cry.”

Maul suddenly leaps up from the bed, pacing across the room to roughly grab his pants off the floor. He pulls them on swiftly, and your brows furrow when he crosses the room to grab his belt and lightsaber.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he ties his belt across his waist, clipping his saber to it. He doesn’t look at you, and turns to the door.

“I’m leaving.”

“No, you are not.” You clamber up off the bed and onto your feet, stumbling slightly as you hastily make your way over to Maul. You’re able to get in front of him, planting your hands firmly on his chest and halting him. He glares down at you, angrily, sadly, and you ground yourself at look up at him.

“Move.” He growls, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Your lips turn down in a stubborn pout. Maul’s bristling under your touch, and you know you’re walking on precarious ground. But you’ve dealt with Maul’s temper enough to not have it faze you, and you’re sure you can handle his guilt the same.

“No.” You retort and you pull yourself flush against him, arms snaking around his torso in a tight hug, your eyes closing. Pressing your cheek against his chest, you sigh at the familiar warmth you love, digging your face into his beautiful crimson and black skin. Maul doesn’t wrap his arms around you in turn. You give his sternum a gentle kiss.

“Get off.” Maul’s growled order comes out as brashly and as firmly as always, but his commandeering attitude hasn’t worked on you for years. A sudden, but small, spark of playfulness curls your lips upwards into a tiny smile. You rub your hands up and down the length of Maul’s back, feeling every tight, defined muscle and occasionally the rough edge of his scar when your hand gets low enough and your pinky fingers brush it.

“Never.” Your murmur vibrates his chest, and you hum contentedly when you finally catch the lovely beatings of Maul’s twin hearts. They thrum in alternating rhythm beneath your ear, both strong and deep.

“You’re not running from me.” You speak again, eyes still closed. Maul is quiet, though you feel him lift an arm and a tender, yet firm, hand comes to rest on the low of your back. You smile fully, lightly gliding your nails over Maul’s back in the way you know he loves. His thumb starts to rub circles on your skin.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“... I was scared.”

“I know.”

You look up at Maul, eyes beneath heavy lids, your smile still bright and kind on your face. The conflict in his eyes has cooled to a simmer, being replaced more and more by that boyish, starry-eyed look he gets sometimes, the one that reminds you of how much he loves you. Maul’s other hand reaches up and cups your cheek, caressing your face. You tilt your head into the touch.

“Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” He teases in a low murmur, honey gold eyes glimmering with rising mirth, and you quirk an eyebrow. Your hands stop to rest on his waist, just above the band of his pants. Maul’s face starts to inch in closer and closer to yours, stopping right when his lips are just above yours.

“Mm... you might have to do some convincing.” You whisper, eyes drooping further until your irises are nearly obscured by your eyelashes. Maul chuckles low in his throat, his hand shifting to place two fingers under your chin. He tilts your head up slightly, pulls you closer against him.

“How do you suppose I accomplish that?” He asks, breath puffing on your cheeks, gaze breaking from yours when he closes his eyes. You follow suit, and the tips of both your upper lips touch.

“... I can think of one way.” You say, and you tilt your head and your jaw slackens slightly, and Maul’s lips are on yours, balmy and soft. The kiss is slow, slower than he usually does, but it’s perfect and sultry and so Maul. You hum when he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips to gyrate in your mouth. He explores everywhere, relearns every touch. It’s like you’re kissing for the first time all over again, lost in each other as if the years of memorizing each other’s body melted away into oblivion. Your hands clasp his waist, his one hand moves up to your mid back, and the heated, passionate kiss ends.

Maul pulls back a little more to look at you properly, tucking your hair behind your ear, and you open your eyes from the touch. He’s wearing that satisfied, lazy grin, the one that always makes him look mischievous. 

“Do you still need more convincing?” He asks with a tilt of his head, though he knows the answer you’re going to give by the cheeky smile that spreads across your face. You giggles, eyes sparkling, and you nod.

“Lots.” And with that, Maul’s lips are on yours, stifling your laughter in his mouth. He smothers you with kisses, peppering your lips, cheeks, and jaw, and you do the same for him, kissing over and over until you’re sure your lips will fall off. At some point, Maul heaves you into his arms, carries you to the bed, and drops your bodies atop it.

You squeal with laughter when he rolls on top of you, trapping you between his thighs, nuzzling and kissing the side of your face. Your hands fumble at his shoulders, before sliding to his face to turn his head to you. He’s grinning between your hands, looking absolutely charmed, and you kiss him on the nose, breathy from laughing.

When you pull away, Maul’s panting and still grinning like a madman, but his wild eyes have gone somewhat tame, controlled. His eyes dart all around your face, like he’s analyzing each one of your features. He breathes an exhale, licks his lips, and meets your gaze.

“I love you.” And his voice is slightly raspy, but he says it with such conviction, so raw and passionate, that the intensity floors you. Sure, he’s said those words to you before, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. Your eyes go slightly misty again, and you smile sweetly, fingers rubbing the bases of his horns on his temples.

“I love you.” You reply and again, Maul sinks into you with a deep kiss, and you all but melt into each other, bodies a welcoming sanctuary for the other.

#star wars #star wars darth maul #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #darth maul #maul #anon #anon ask #request