#it doesn't make prostitution less disgusting.

[hard--headed--woman]

that part in King Kong Theory where Virginie talks about the men who buy prostitued women literally disgusts me. she calls them "sad, fragile, lonely, weak, old" "full of humanity and despair" and i'm like. girl. they were buying you. using you as an object. they were not seeing you as a human being. they were just rapists and pervs. wake up.

#i know she said it was a way for her to cope with her rape trauma #and i respect that #but she just keeps saying that prostitution is cool and a job like every other job and i am so annoyed #you were one of the lucky ones who enjoy it. you did it because of your trauma and because you hated working. you liked it. cool. #it doesn't make prostitution less disgusting. #prostitution is paid rape. women are not objects that you can buy. and men who pay prostitued women are monsters. point blank.

[tonkatsubowl]

love sick.

✱ warning — the reader is the yandere.

how would the xianzhou boys react to you as a yandere?

blade is definitely into this side of you. however, there are times where he had to calm you down. it was surprising that someone like blade even knew limits...especially when it came to necessary manslaughter.

"y/n." you ignored blade's voice, the warmth of a deceased woman's blood splattering upon your visage as you took another one's life.

this "innocent" woman in particular got a little too bold and tried to flirt with blade, trying seducing him to a form of prostitution sale. of course, he was immensely loyal to you... but he wasn't surprised for the woman's death, as he saw this coming. was he upset at you? definitely not, for he would do the same thing if a man touched or spoke to you in a disgusting way.

"y/n." he called again. "she's dead."

his hand reached towards your shoulder, stopping you in place. you breathed the fresh scent of iron, your distraught and psychotic eyes casting towards blade, and immediately your gaze had softened. decorated with blood, an innocent smile creeps towards your lips as you turn to embrace your lover.

"i just wanted to make sure she learned her lesson too." you reply, snuggling your face into blade's chest, smearing the woman's blood from your face all over his clothing.

"i'm sure she did. but now we have to bury the body."

"she doesn't deserve a burial," you nearly snap, "i'll just burn her body to crisp."

blade's gaze softens, pressing his thumb against your lips, "shh. take it easy, y/n. i'll handle it."

your eyes sparkle, but you nodded. you knew kafka didn't like seeing you in this mess, but you enjoyed it whenever you came back to the stellaron hunters and kafka had a handkerchief in hand. though, she did scold you a few times... and now blade doesn't want you to have that sort of attention from kafka.

dan heng would definitely try to find ways to not trigger this side of you. he knew you have a good heart and you would do anything to help and save the astral express team, but whenever it came to other women flirting with him and trying to seduce him... that was when you snapped.

you definitely couldn't control this side of you, and himeko and welt would continue to deeply monitor your well being whenever these sorts of things happened. there were multiple incidents where you've taken a few lives because they simply looked at dan heng's direction... but you've improved a bit? you were at least killing women and random people who decided to flirt with your lover, rather than anyone who sneezed in his direction at least.

"y/n, please..." the sounds of you ripping a woman's head apart from her body echoed through the halls, covering your body with her beautiful blood. you breathed, smiling through it all. unable to think.

but dan heng couldn't stop you. he was too late.

"y/n!"

it was an innocent saleswoman who used flirtation to gain sales, and it was nothing more... nothing less. it was purely business related. but your jealousy got the best of you.

his voice finally snap you back to reality, your hand raised to stab her one more time came to a stop. you drop your weapon, looking to dan heng. your eyes softened, no longer were they... so psychotic. so evil.

"ah. there you are! i was looking for you," you innocently beamed, waddling up to him as if nothing had occurred.

right, this was an issue, too. you killed, and you don't remember what happened. or rather you just acted like nothing happened.

"are you okay? i really missed you," you innocently said to dan heng as you embraced him, his arms reluctantly returning the hug.

if he didn't return the affection, you would become worse.

"i was moreso worried about you, but i missed you too," dan heng said in a soft tone, "let's clean you up."

he'll have to report another incident to welt and himeko.

jing yuan has monitored your well being for a while, and has used different methods of therapeutic sessions to help you maintain this side of you... or get rid of it. he knew you had a killer instinct that's hidden inside of you that you cannot control, whatsoever. and it was... terrifying. not even yanqing or fu xuan really trusted you, even doubting their general because of you.

"get rid of them. they're going to cause you trouble." fu xuan would say to jing yuan. and boy, if you heard that? a life would be taken away. and it wouldn't be yours. you were significantly stronger than fu xuan, which was why she tends to stay away from you.

yanqing didn't want to make a comment. he knew you were always listening at one point. there was an incident where you nearly killed fu xuan because of her comments, but after some restraint, magic and a bit of therapeutic sessions, you had... improved. a bit. just a bit.

"i believe in them." jing yuan would say. "i never want to give up on them."

and even if you were currently killing some random woman right now for talking about wishing to be wed to general jing yuan, he would still love you. he would try to change you.

"that's enough, y/n."

he came to retrieve you after knowing you were headed out to kill this woman. your hands stopped as he reached out, grabbing your wrists, pulling you closer to his chest. "that's enough."

you breathed, leaning into his touch, innocently smiling faintly. you were finally "awake", no longer focused on a mere corpse. "oh, jing yuan," you cooed, "sorry, i got distracted. i was heading out to grab you a drink, and—"

"it's alright," jing yuan murmured, eyeing on the corpse. goodness, you were getting collectively worse with these murders. never had he seen these types of deaths before, even in his years on the battlefield. "let's get you back home. i'll have the cloud knights clean this up for you."

it was time for some therapeutic sessions again.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail blade #dan heng #hsr blade #hsr dan heng #blade x reader #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #yandere #hsr yandere #yandere y/n #dan heng x reader #jing yuan x reader

[denileisariver]

pairing: batman aka bruce wayne x f!reader

summary: in which batman mistakes you for a prostitute, so might as well give him a treat, right?

warnings: no actual smut :(, mentions of non-con but nothing actually happens, implied age gap, no physical descriptions of reader besides having hair long enough to pull, reader doesn't make the best decisions, readers' also probably touch starved with attachment issues but that's okay twin <3

a/n: poorly paced just like everything else i write :) might make a part 2, idk yet :/

you never thought you'd end up here..

yea right, who were you kidding? dressing up in tight shirts and mini skirts, stumbling around gotham in pleaser heels you could barely walk in. you were surprised this hasn't happened sooner.

you'd always been cat-called and hollered at by desperate horny men, looking to get their dicks wet. guess this time, one of them finally got sick of you not ever giving it up.

rubble crunches beneath you, whatever nasty grime on the street of the empty alleyway staining your skin when you're forced onto your knees. dirty hands pull and grab onto your hair to hold you in place. you feel like screaming, but you're frozen, like a deer in headlights.

"c'mon bitch, show me what you got,"

you whimper a bit at one of his painful tugs, tears threatening to well up. you're sure you look pathetic right now, letting this stranger contort your body to his will, not even putting up a fight. and he seems to get off on it, too. one of his free hands begin to pull down the zipper at the seat of his pants, a disgusting, toothy grin on his face that you wish you could smack off of him.

"so glad i met you tonight, love, or else i woulda missed the perfect opportunity to ruin your pretty little cu-" his words are cut off from him, those large wretched hands pulled off of you before you could even blink.

that's when you see him. angry and seething, beating the man that was just about to violate you damn near half to death. batman, knocking in the teeth of the sad man whose pleading for his life like he wasn't just about to ruin yours.

you're stuck in place, just watching, until his face is unrecognizable, dripping with his own blood. it's only then that he finally stops to look at you.

"it's okay, you're safe now."

his voice in low, something deep from his chest that sends chills down your spine. he towers over you, still knelt on the ground from shock, lending out a gloved hand that was still covered in your assailants blood. and you take it.

"are you hurt?" just mentally, you think. when you don't respond immediately, his eyes scan over your body, noticing the scrape on your knee, and you notice it the same time he does.

"i'm fine.. thank you," it's the first thing you say to him. this moment will be forever ingrained in your memory. ever since you were a little girl, you've heard stories of batman. the man who patrolled these streets every damn night, made criminals live in fear, and protected the helpless. you never thought you'd be standing face to face with him.

"it's dangerous, you shouldn't be working these streets this time of night," he grumbles, handing you crumbled up cash that you assume belongs to the man he just beat the shit out of. it isn't yours, but you don't tell batman that, and hesitantly stuff the dollars in your purse. wait.. working these streets? what's that supposed to mean?

your eyes flick up to him in confusion, and that's when you realize. oh.. he thinks you're a sex worker. you guess you shouldn't be surprised. i mean, who in their right mind walks around looking the way you do, a bit tipsy after leaving the bar, at three in the morning in the narrows? prostitutes, apparently. and also apparently, batman seems to think you look like one.

stunned to silence once again by him, twice in the span of less than twenty minutes, you stare up at him with your mouth hung open slightly, unsure of how to even respond to that.

"let me take care of you." is all he says when he realizes you won't add more, a surprisingly gentle hand pulling you towards the batmobile that you didn't even notice was there. your eyes focus in on his hands, and how they could easily wrap around your wrists and arms like nothing.

let me take care of you.

those words repeat in your head, soft and comforting, and you can't explain why. maybe it's cause you haven't been taken care of since you ran away from home, haven't had anyone to protect and provide for you. and you miss it. not that you ever really had much of it to begin with.

he sits you on top of the hood of the car, not even attempting to make conversation while he dresses your wound, carefully cleaning and applying ointment to the cut. his demeanor is almost in stark contrast of what it was just mere moments ago, touching you like you were a fragile glass doll, threatening to break if he applied too much pressure.

you take the small time you have around him to take a really good look at him. batman, right in front of you. a leather cowl that was covered in cuts, armor littered in bullet holes. the only skin that was available to your eyes was his mouth. you could practically feel your own mouth watering, noticing the grey hair that was seeping into his scruff. and those damn lips that looked so kissable.

no.. that isn't right. you shouldn't be lusting over this man just because he saved your life. but then again, you'd always gotten clingy towards guys who showed you the kind of attention you craved, even if you barely knew 'em. you're too caught up in your thoughts to notice him finishing up. "it's rude to stare, y'know?"

"shit, i'm sorry," you stutter out, face flushed in embarrassment. you coulda swore for a split second you saw a smirk on his face, but if it was there, it's gone before you can confirm it.

"it's fine.. let me take you home."

well, there goes that fleeting feeling of actually being taken care of. admired felt like too big of a word to describe it, but that's what it felt like, even if it was just for a couple of short minutes. you don't know why it disappoints you so much that you won't be able to see him any longer, even if it was because someone put your life at risk.

the only thing you can think about while he drives you home is how much more of it you wanted. more affection, more of someone who just cared enough to ask if you were okay, how your day was. you hear him talk about how you should take care of yourself, and it only reminds you of how earlier he assumed you were prowling the streets, looking to sell yourself for cash.

"I'm not a prostitute." you finally tell him.

the rubbery leather of his gloves strain beneath his grasp, hold tightening on the steering wheel. you can see his jaw clench a bit, and you can only assume your confession catches him by surprise. "what?" his eyes flicker over to you, looking over your skimpy outfit.

"i.. was just walking home after a night out." you explain, swallowing a bit when you notice his eyes focused on your legs probably a bit longer than intended. "and thank you.. for saving me."

he's quiet for a moment, seemingly in thought. whatever was on his mind, you'll never know, but you wanted so damn much to know. your heart aches a bit, knowing your apartment was just around the corner.

"i'm sorry that i misinterpreted that," he begins slowly, turning onto your block until the vehicle was stopped right in front of the tiny place you called home. "and you don't have to thank me." and that was the last thing he ever said to you, at least for now you hoped..

he exits the car, opening your door and helping you step out, too wobly on your own heels to stand up right. before you part ways, you make eye contact for a long moment, taking him in as much as possible before he disappeared from you completely. "goodbye, batman."

something about it is melancholic, a look in your eyes that bruce couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. he watches you enter the apartment, staying there for a couple of seconds to ensure your safety, before entering the batmobile again to finish patrol for the night.

he sits there in silence for a moment, his brain rewinding the entire interaction with you. maybe you were just feeling down because of what almost happened to you, or maybe it was something else. a part of him thought maybe you were lonely, and he only suspected that because he felt lonely too. his gaze moves over to the passenger seat where you were just mere seconds ago, and that's when he sees it.

red lace panties, sprawled out of the floor of the car.

you must've taken them off in a hurry when he was going to open your door for you. you take him by surprise for the second time this night, his hands quickly going over to grab them and inspecting the material. they're wet. the cloth is darkened and damp, slick glistening in what little light there was available.

bruce feels his cock jump in excitement at the sight, strained in the tightness of his pants. he subconsciously licks his lips, the urge to put them to his nose or even taste your juices creeping up on him, but he resists. what a naughty girl, he thinks to himself, a tiny grin forming on his face. bruce pockets them for later, looking over your apartment once more, seeing your familiar shadow in one of the windows.

no, this would definitely not be the last time you meet the batman.

#batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #smut #batman #bruce wayne

[iamgodsoopsie]

Astarion Headcanons (that you probably won't like) Pt. 2:

Part 1 link

Part 3 link

More Astarion headcanons! (that are mostly me projecting but with an Astarion flavored twist.)

BG3 does an excellent job at depicting SA trauma and the beginning of the healing process/journey. Many of the headcanons I've seen floating around (intentionally or unintentionally) gloss over the uglier side of healing from (prolonged) trauma. I'm not judging anyone for magically healing him, he's fictional after all, but I'd like to make some more ...realistic... headcanons.

Disclaimer: Everyone's healing process looks different, but they tend share commonalities. These headcanons are based on my own experiences. Not everyone who is healing from their trauma will experience what I have or have experienced it like I have.

[Please don't message me with explicit details about your trauma. I am at the point in my healing journey where I can share my experiences, and commiserate with other's similar experiences, but I am unable to support others in a more personal manner at this time. I wish you the best of luck in your healing process/ journey.]

Spoiler warning

Mental illness, SA, & DV Trigger Warnings: I cannot stress these enough this post is much more descriptive and potentially triggering than part one was.

These headcanons are based on an Astarion who is still a spawn and romantically involved with a Tav who honestly loves him and isn't abusive or manipulative. Also Cazador is dead and Astarion got to stab him. They also assume that he himself does not turn into Cazador 2.0 or Wish.com Cazador.

I hope you're ready for abrupt mood swings.

--- One minute he's codependent and can't make a decision on his own because he's overwhelmed, the next he's hyper-independent and will take offense at any suggestion you make.

----- Astarion is aware that staying in either of the two extremes is unhealthy and would eventually lead him to acting like Cazador.

^ This ties into point two: You need walk the fine line between patient and understanding while he processes "200 years of Shit. PURE SHIT!". And at the same time you need to be firm in your own boundaries with how you allow him to treat you.

--- He's gone 200 years without autonomy and has no memory of what life was like before Cazador turned him. He has no frame of reference other than romance novels and watching couples interact with each other from afar.

-----TBH the best thing for him is to stay in regular contact with Halsin. The man has the same flavor as trauma as Astarion while also having strong boundaries and open honest/ healthy communication in his relationships. He can unjudgementally help Astarion navigate the pitfalls of his healing journey through first hand experience.

Plus Ultra Catholic levels of guilt.

--- Guilt for what he did while he was a spawn. Guilt for how he started his relationship with you (even after you've told him you forgive him multiple times). Guilt for how he lashes out at the one person who has shown him unconditional love (you). Guilt because he feels like he's dragging you down into his darkness and tainting you. Guilt because he fears he's pulling you down to bring himself up. Guilt for feeling guilty because it doesn't absolve him of his sins and makes healing harder.

Self-esteem issues

--- He was SA'd for 200 years, he was forced into prostitution, he was tortured in every conceivable way, he was made to do reprehensible things and learned to find "joy" in them because he would've lost all of himself and his humanity otherwise.

------ His inner saboteur (who sounds like Cazador and himself simultaneously- adding to his self hate) tells him that he is disgusting, wrong, filthy, a burden, unlovable, undeserving of happiness, a monster.

------- Like everything else these thoughts will become less frequent and easier for him to handle as time goes on. All you can do is love him while he self-flagellates and hates himself. One day he'll see himself as you see him.

^ Tying into all the points above, especially the one right before this one. You're going to feel useless. Most of the time all you can do is demonstrate your love for him and sit there with him while he is bombarded with years of repressed feelings forcing their way out.

--- In the beginning your attempts to help him will frequently seem to have the opposite of their intended effect.

----- It's important that you be honest with him about how you're doing mentally. It does him no favors if you set yourself on fire to keep him warm.

------- You'll be angry on his behalf and can't exact revenge.

--------- That being said you are helping him so much more than you think you are. I cannot express in words how much just being there while Astarion slogs through the painful process of healing will help him.

^ ALL of these will get less intense and easier to deal with in time. He will heal and move on from his horrid past. But, it will involve a lot of trial and error. He will have periods of exponential growth followed by a hard backslide in progress. But he will get there.

I wouldn't say that loving Astarion is hard, but it does involve conscious effort on both his and your parts.

#astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #astarion hc #astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #tw sa #tw dv #tw mental illness #tw #heavy themes #cw #astarion ancunin #mental health is hard #sa survivor #halsin #halsin bg3 #trauma recovery #you've been warned #dead dove do not eat

[drenix004]

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘━━━ 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐙𝐀

-> Teaser

❝𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲︙It was the candy she needed to cope with the life of danger and death she had willingly gotten herself into.❞

❛Her sweet, natural attitude reminded him of honey, and her peculiar amber eyes reaffirmed this❜

warnings: mention of alcohol, drugs, death, obsession, among others, if you are not comfortable, don't read it !

rating: 18+

pairings: Valeria Garza x female Oc

¡English is not my first language, so there may be mistakes, don’t hesitate to correct me.!

¡para las personas que hablan español, actualizo primero la historia en wattpad :)

Link de wattpad-> Honey

━━━━━━━━》❈《 ━━━━━━━

The happiest day of your life is supposed to be your wedding day. The decorations, the flowers, the dress, the guests, the music as you walk in; everything should be a beautiful memory.

But she hated it all.

The guests? They were strangers to her, and the few she knew only smiled falsely at her misfortune.

The dress? She found it hideous; the lace itched, and the fancy design with stones was repulsive to her. That kind of dress did not suit her.

The embellishments were ostentatious, seeking to grab attention, just like the smiling man standing before her.

She should feel joyful on this great day, but all she experienced was revulsion, disgust and hatred towards the person waiting for her at the altar.

She longed to escape, to run away from that damned church, to return to Mexico. However, the strong grip on her arm by her supposed father, together with a sharp object pressed against her side, confirmed that there would be no escape.

She was not advancing toward the altar of her own free will.

As she approached, she couldn't help but wonder if she would have been spared this whole nightmare if she had waited a few more minutes in the classroom without making a sound.

She would not have found out about the prostitution and drug ring operating within the medical specialty school, much less been forced to experiment on freshman students who were victims of said ring.

Had she not been selfish, she would have turned down the scholarship and stayed in Mexico, content to be a general practitioner only. She would have avoided all this.

She wouldn't have to forcibly marry that son of a bitch Jérémie to keep her quiet, but she wasn't stupid, she knew the Frenchman would kill her once they were alone to erase any trace of evidence.

-No, please,- he muttered when he was almost there.

He began to pray for something to happen, a miraculous chance to escape, anything.

-It doesn't matter what it is, but let it stop. Have mercy on me, Lord,- she continued, looking at the crucifix further back from the altar. She was desperate, mentally praying for compassion to show itself.

She turned pale when she reached the altar and was greeted by Jérémie with his fake smile.

-Why so nervous, darling? -He teased, -This is the happiest day of your life, smile.

No, someone has to stop all this, no matter who it is.

The ceremony continued, her pleas seemed to have been ignored. She was on the verge of tears, and when they stopped to give her vows, she felt life slipping away.

Just as they were about to put the ring on, gunshots and screams were heard from outside.

The guests panicked, creating chaos that was accompanied by gunshots coming closer and closer to where they were.

He turned his head towards the crucifix and, with a glimmer of hope, spoke.

-Thank you,- he thanked her for the opportunity he was being given.

She quickly removed her veil and heels. She would take advantage of the chaos to escape. When she tried to run, she was grabbed by the hair forcefully, eliciting a groan of pain.

-Oh no, you won't,- the Frenchman punched her in the cheek, knocking her to the ground.

No one was aware of what was happening; they were more focused on fleeing or hiding as men dressed in black and armed burst in violently, confronting the guards.

When Jérémie crouched down to her full height, she spat blood in his face before kicking him and starting to crawl away from him, the dress getting in the way, the tail weighing her down and making it harder for her to stand on her own.

When she finally got the balance to stand up, her dress was pulled hard, making her fall again.

The Frenchman had no intention of letting her escape; if he couldn't kill her on the honeymoon, he would do it now.

-Bastard,-he shouted loudly. She began clawing at the Frenchman's arms in a desperate attempt to free herself as she kicked, but to no avail.

His vision began to blur due to lack of oxygen.

Another shot rang out, followed by Jérémie's screams of pain and curses.

The white dress was stained scarlet.

She coughed as she struggled to breathe. Her throat burned from the pain, but at least oxygen was getting to her lungs.

-You're dead, cabrón.

Even in a daze, she could recognize the voice. She looked to the side in astonishment: a woman with short black hair was making her way through the armed men, who were respectfully moving aside. The woman was not looking at her; her eyes were fixed on the man who had tried to kill her. Her dark eyes promised that this was only the beginning of the tragedy.

-Valeria?

Chapters: teaser, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...

#call of duty #valeria mw2 #valeria cod #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #valeria x f! reader #valeria x reader #valeria garza x fem!reader #cod mw2 #mw2 #cod modern warfare #wife!valeria garza

[tommyssupercoolblog]

This is a vent post probably no one's going to care about and i haven't slept all night (it's 4 am now) so there's prolly typos. but like.... I like Angel Dust and I Like Poison from Hazbin Hotel, but SO MANY COMMENTS on YouTube refer to the general idea of prostitution (or even "sleeping around" without pay!!! Like just being dtf!!!) as self-harm and it's pissing me off.

There's nothing wrong with having lots of sex, yes even with people you don't know very well or people who are paying you- when you CONSENT.

Angel Dust is being ABUSED by a guy who literally owns him, and on top of that has no way to screen or refuse clients. This isn't "just sex work"- nothing about this is inherent to the premise of him having sex or shooting porn for money- it's abuse WITHIN his line of work, it's RAPE because he can't say no and can't call the shots and can't even refuse to see a client again. Angel Dust has no autonomy in this situation- after he signed he was kept like a pet.

Sex work isn't bad inherently, it's bad when you as a worker have no legal rights or protections to help you stay safe (which sex workers in many parts of the world don't since sex work being criminalized prevents them from doing things like persecuting someone who crossed boundaries, or even just being able to have legal "protections" outside of just getting arrested for their field of work even if it's what they want to do. And of course they get killed and abused by cops too because they're criminals and cops are SHIT), when you're working under a pimp like angel works under Valentino, or when you are forced into it due to poverty or other circumstances and don't want to be there.

As for sleeping around being self harm...first of all, cut off the goddamn slut shaming. Second of all, yes maybe some people lie about wanting sex (NOT in CNC, that's just actual consent with noncon roleplay) as a way of self harming. But nothing about liking to fuck is self harm in itself. Those specific people might need help but not every neighborhood whore needs a redemption arc- maybe they actually love themselves and just like to fuck??!!!!!

At this rate a part of me hopes that after Angel fucking murders Valentino or otherwise gets freed, he still does sex work in some capacity but in a healthy way where he's happy and able to negotiate for what he's willing to do and when- just so people will stop acting like "sex work is always bad and all sex workers want to be freed" is the only takeaway here. If he doesn't I'm not going to be mad or anything of course, and if that's not the vision for his character then that's not the vision. But it'd certainly help make comment threads less....victim blamey and awful.

There's a good philosophy tube video on Sex Work as well, with interviews included- and there's probably sex workers here on Tumblr you can talk to. But just please stop acting like being a prostitute is self harm inherently.

If I see one more post like "I love Angel Dust because people don't talk about how being slutty is just self destructive" or "Poison is such a good rep of why sex work is so disgusting and shouldnt be allowed" I'M GOING TO FUCKING BREAK SOMETHING.

If you want to protect sex workers, listen to them and help them campaign for legalization (because again they need it for safety and to ensure they can protect themselves from clients) and other things they might need. But for the love of GOD don't act like it's some inherent evil that's always abusive because, ironically, that's the shit that makes it so easy for abuse to happen in that field in the first fucking place.

#i made a textpost #hot take #discourse #discource #angel dust #hazbin hotel poison #hazbin hotel #cw rape #tw rape

[gloriousmonsters]

I kind of dig CQL Su's backstory for how unfair it was. Like, novel him you could see exactly why WWX and co were disgusted by him for his actions in almost handing over MianMian, but CQL him it's like... his friends were being slaughtered??? It just adds this sense of 'yeah king, kill the gentry' that matches Xue Yang more.

eh, for me the two narratives serve different purposes and I'm slightly fonder of the novel one. CQL SMS is good and very crunchy and also just. the sweetest boy and like you said, more overtly sympathetic; but:

Novel SMS sets up a more interesting 'character contradiction' in that he starts as a teenager who does something genuinely bad and cowardly (we know it, everyone knows it, he knows it) who can't quite match the local golden boy in skill... and then he grows up to be a sect leader, a brilliant powerhouse of a fighter, and a brave-to-the-point-of-self-sacrifice, loyal man. And he does it for the villain because the 'good' people treat him like crap. And he does it, crucially, offscreen.

No matter how he grows and changes, he's treated like a failed disciple for the Lan, a failed copy of LWJ. No other reason is given than 'he gets mad at being compared to LWJ and plays the guqin, the most common spiritual instrument.' He's not despised by WWX for being a coward in the past--WWX is pissed off in the moment, and then true to form forgets about it. He mocks SMS for daring to criticize the Lan while having once come from them, and later--when he remembers seeing SMS in the past--he's only concerned with why did you ruin my life, what did I do to you? And SMS' response is, basically, why do you think you're the main character?

SMS considers himself the center of the story when it's not about him. Watsonianly, it takes the form of people finding him arrogant and his anger unjustified; doylistically, it's fascinating to realize that he has a dramatic character arc that we never see, and interesting to read his baffled rage at LWJ--what reason does he have to act arrogant and get away with it? why is fate on his side and not mine? as an almost fourth-wall aware complaint. Why isn't SMS a main character? He just isn't. It's not his story. He was created for a certain role and he wants a different one, but it's impossible inside this framework. It's a frustration at the center of his character that plays in a fun way with other themes of the story (is it only perspective that makes a hero or a villain? etc).

And it's totally understandable that CQL sort of... shifts that an inch sideways and it becomes class-specific rage. What is class jumping but wanting a role you weren't given? The change of his Cowardice Event to something more sympathetic also makes sense in this context, and it's placement nearly side by side with Meng Yao's murder of the captain does drive in his increased similarity to his later villainous friends. I like CQL, genuinely. It feels like a less meta story to me, but that doesn't make it worse--just more self-contained, a little bit different overall.

But the novel's version of events is honestly more about audience perception than the involved characters, imo. People don't despise him later for what he did then, except (possibly; we see no indication but he could be thinking it) LWJ. It's on the audience to still only see him as the cowardly kid who nearly handed over Mianmian, just as the Lan see him as a failed disciple and others see him as arrogant beyond his station. Then Guanyin Temple displays so much that was concealed about everyone, and you find out SMS has been hiding his accomplishments and abilities for years, is not too proud to loyally serve the son of a prostitute, and is willing to die without hesitation.

What a character, what an arc. In a different life (story), he could have been great (the main character).

Not in this life, though.

and that's my extremely too many words overanalyzing essay on why novel!sms is my fave by a slim margin. it's about the tragedy of the meta implications that feel like they aren't really there in the more sympathetic/contained CQL version 👌

#su she #su minshan #sorry you unlocked my SMS emotions again so i just wrote FAR too many words #also i feel like my lens on mdzs is so shaped by reading Scum Villain before i read it #so keep that in mind

[thebottomfromhell]

If it's okay can I please ask for a platonic yandere daki

With a kianna reader

Like say she meets her as one of her hairdressers like say she does her makeup and hair and brings her kimonos but she clearly sees the little girl doesn't trust her and it simply doing as she's told

And at first she doesn't think much of the little girl other than she's pretty and useful but over time she starts to isolate her from everyone else except her brother and well get angry when the little girl isn't right by her side or is separated from her without a reason

By the way thank you for tagging me and she's an OC of mine you can find more information about her on my page here on Tumblr and I hope this request doesn't sound weird and you can add anything to the request if you want

Ok, this was a long time ago. Sorry for the wait.

This was a hard one, not gonna lied. I can't see Daki really liking a child around, much less wanting to keep one to herself.

Platonic!Yandere!Daki for requested child OC

Warnings: Mentioned child prostitution, Child labor, Child abuse/bullying (with Daki depends on perspective), Implied child molestation/grooming (it's actually something else but I understand the way it comes off), Yandere behavior, Open ending,

Kianna is young, way too young to actually be here. It's not weird that other courtesans dislike her for that. She doesn't have the experience, nor enough training, to be here, even as a hairdresser. The second she gets handed to the main Oiran of the house, the motive is clear, it's not a raise, they want to get rid of her. But what could they do? Nobody wanted to take care of her, everyone was to busy. To think she was actually found by a recent Kibuki actor, who lesft her here thinking her face and obedience would be enough for her to stay. After all, he found her not so far of the district, homeless, and she hadn't said anything when he brought her, bathed her, clothed her with proper robes he had from when he was younger, ate what he gave her... but he couldn't take care of her. What if some clients thought she was his? That would ruin him! No matter how much pity he felt, it was not worth their career. Every woman and man so far has been thinking the same.

That woman, Yatamahime, is famous for having her servants and hairdresses mistreated, to the point some even leave the household to beg on the streets, others dissapear without a trail. But Kianna is too young to leave as well, the same way she is too young to actually be useful, they all know that.

But why would they care? She is pretty and has some sort of potential, but she is a child in a world where the least mouth to feed the better. "What is a child doing in here? I have no business with this brat!" The Oiran herself despises kids, she only lets a selected group of both extremely beautiful and extremely talented to get around her things without repercutions, and most of the time that is only during festivals, if not, she can't stand them. Kianna can tell she is already disliked, she can tell nobody wants her around, but she doesn't show any reaction to it, beside grinding her teeth under her closed mouth.

A servant explains to Yatamahime that they would be leaving the child under "her care", and the eyes of the experienced courtesan change of color from the rage for a second as she leans her head to the side, frowning. She looks disgusted, about to kill someone, she looks at the servant first "Get out!" The servant does, relieved of both getting rid of the girl and getting out unharmed. "Now you give me a reason why I shouldn't just discard you right now! What does a little girl like you has to offer to someone like me?! You barely make a snack. Too old to train and too young to serve! You are nothing but a waste here!"

Kianna just looks at her, she reminds her of the monsters at home, for some reason. The scoldings of the church, the ones she always wanted to leave so badly. The thirsty yet cruel eyes of the nobles who smelled like dead, who looked as her as if she had some cake in her hands. Yatamahime is awful, Kianna hates it, but she doesn't know what to do about it. So she frowns frustrated, eyes wet and red, but not crying. She can't. "Oe....What's with that face? Is there something you want to say, brat?" The girl doesn't answer the Oiran, the knot in her throat doesn't let her, even when she sees the taller figure raising her hand to hit her. "You DARE disrespecting-" she stops before actually hitting Kianna, who braces herself for the impact.

They both look surprised, Kianna because not matter the abuse she has gone through already, she has never hit before. Yatamahime on the other hands has slightly softer, but also annoyed, eyes as her hand trembles. "GO OUTSIDE! YOU WILL SLEEP IN THE CORRIDOR TONIGHT!" The Oiran screams at the top of her lungs, and surprising herself the girl runs to the corridor, hugging her legs on a corner, as she listens, wanting to know what happened. And what will happen now.

As she falls asleep due the exhaustion caused by the stress, she can hear two voices from Yamatahime's door. "Ne... she is so young, she is a girl. She is younger than you were before.... ne..." It's a disgusting voice, sick and tired, but Kianna can kin to it for a moment, so she can't even think it's weird there is a second voice inside. Maybe she is dreaming it. "Before I what?! I don't want her! Why stopping me from getting rid of her?!" Yamatahime's voice sounds a bit more childish, but again, she is tired, she is probably imagining things. "Just... don't kill her, ne... don't let her burn, ne. Please." And Kianna doesn't hear anymore.

The next weeks she stays with Yamatahime, who constantly scolds her, berates her, for not baing able to pick the best robes, the best haircombs, to not be able to do the knots correctly. The Oiran even left her help her at her hair once, something pretty, she was told, and stopped her before she got the pompadour hairstyle, the older figure knowing it would lead to some curly hair later. It was clear that Kianna did not know the japanese esthetic, not knowing the symbols, cultural etiquette, or the expectations. Of course she doesn't, she is from Europe! She barely knows the language, how is she supposed to know everything? To change her style?

Yatamahime got angry easily, way too fast, it's a miracles she hasn't hit her already, when the Oiran clearly wanted to several times. But she always stopped, even though it looked mostly as if something was physically doing so for her, as she always got annoyed when it happened. It's a nightmare to be with this woman... but, unlike in the streets, she has a roof over her head, is well fed (even if the food tastes weird for her, always sticky rice with some over-seasoned or under-seasoned protein, depending on the case. Not that she ever complained about it), she has a futon where she sleeps (she hates sleeping on the floor. Where are the beds? She has seen all the rooms Yatamahime goes during her shift and not even the bosses have any) and has a good set of robes (again, not right in her taste, but not complaining at all).

It takes her some months for her to start learning correctly, the Oiran is not impressed with the time it took, but it is ok, she guesses. Kianna buyed enough time to reach her 13 years old, so getting rid of her was pausible. Due her pretty face, Yatamahime actually was offered to take her off her care... only to realize... "What's the point? I'm already used to have her here. She works for me. You didn't want her less than a year ago? Don't come begging to use her now that you can make profit of it."

Now, Yatamahime was never... nice, exactly, on the contrary, she kept Kianna on a leash, controlling her every move. Doesn't let her talk with others (not that Kianna wants to, but she would like to at least feel like she has a choice) or work with anyone else, not even her favorite hairdressers and maids, doesn't let her go outside, not even at night when the Oiran herself basically banishes from thin air and comes back with that same smell those nobles always came with. She doesn't try to hit the girl anymore and scolds her a lot less, even praises her from time to time, but... but it's still not what she wants, she is still not free at all.

"Why?" Kianna asks one night as she is helping the Oiran with the knots of the back of her kimono. She can trust the older figure won't be harming her for it, so she asks. ""Why" what?" The girl doesn't know how to explain herself further, but everything is just so odd. Yatamahime sighs tired before turning her hand to pet, rather violently, Kianna's head. "Don't go around wasting words if you can't ask a question correctly. Now finish quickly, I have an important client today. I want you here when I come back." Kianna still hates it here.

She doesn't want to go home, never home, but she would at least like to be back to Europe, back to the climates she knows, the foods she likes, the style she adores. Not here, where no matter how long it passes she can't bring herself to trust her surroundings or anyone in it. Maybe it is for the best that she is left alone in the dark room (Yatamahime never let's the sunlight even touch her personal chambers) and only taken out when needed to do something, she wouldn't know what to even do around others.

Then again, complaining or expressing her opinion would only get her in trouble, would it not? Sometimes she thinks about attempting to leave to the streets again, but... she can't bring herself to it. She is just not built for that kind of life. This one, where is is well taken care of in exchange of making sure she looks pretty and quiet, like a doll, is more fit for her. "You should be grateful I took you in, you know? With this fragile body, easily sick and hurt, anyone could kill you and take advantage of you." Yamatahime's soft voice told her one day she was in good humour, and decided to do Kainna's hair. "You barely know how to make yourself look presentable, how were you supposed to survive in a world like this? Even outside the red lighted streets you would have only being able to be prey in a world of hunters. It's only a matter of time for humans to meet their place as such. The ugly ones, worthless and useless, are discharged. The pretty ones will find a place within the powerful ones. You are lucky to be a pretty one."

Kianna lives her life, not minding when other girls and even some boys go missing, including those who also work under the main Oiran. She doesn't mind those days there is red ink on the walls or floors even knowing what it is and where is from. She doesn't mind when Yatamahime decides to make a change on the routine. "You know, you are very lucky indeed. To think you will have a chance like this, of not dying old, ugly and useless. I will not be able to keep Yatamahime's rol for much longer, and I plan to take you with me." Her hair gets loose, flower-like marks appear in her face, her eyes become green with kanji over them. Because of her distance, their size and her lack of experience with the language, Kianna can't tell what they mean. "How many humans can say they belong to the Upper Moon Six without being their dinner? Make sure to thank Onii-chan for letting you live and stay for so long."

Kianna still hates it, though.

#the oc is not mine #oc's #oc #Daki #demon slayer #kny #upper moons #gyutaro

[angstymdzsthoughts]

The old Jiang sect leader, JFM's father, rather liked prostitutes. It's the main reason JFM doesn't have a whole flock of siblings and half-siblings running around Lotus Pier (and seriously, as a Chinese person, I'm genuinely amazed at the lack of concubines with all the unhappy marriages in MDZS).

CSSR is the only half-sibling JFM is ever able to track down. Oh, sure, he had a brief, slight crush on her during his stint in CR, then they both worked out her paternity (her mother was - a kept woman, on retainer, so to speak) and disgust rather killed any other thoughts. To make up for his mingled disgust and guilt at her ending up in the streets after her mother's death, rather than being taken to Lotus Pier like a child of Sect Leader Jiang should have been, JFM ends up doting on her, in a strange sort of way - like an older brother should, he thinks.

They both swear themselves to secrecy on CSSR's true lineage. The mix of stigma at being the daughter of a prostitute (rather than an anonymous street child) and inevitable dragging into the power games of the high and mighty that would come with revealing CSSR's parentage is not something either of them want.

Yeah well, this comes off VERY differently to the outside world. JFM buying CSSR meals, whatever stupid shit caught her eye at the market, defending her against the other disciples (not that she needs it), and going along with her antics reads - very strangely - in a society with extremely strict separation of men and women, and without the context of knowing they're half-siblings.

JFM ignores this and happily sees her marry WCZ. All is right in the world when little Wei Ying (did she seriously name her son Baby Wei? what did he expect out of his goblin sister, honestly) is born, and when he hears word of their deaths - he's his jiufu. Since WCZ doesn't have family that he knows of, it's JFM's job to take in Wei Ying. He can't have him call him jiufu, as is proper - the more generic shushu is the closest he can get - but at least his nephew is where he should be, under his care.

Unfortunately, this again reads somewhat strangely with the rumours of his love of CSSR - rumours which he never fucking bothered to refute, rumours which are coming to bite him in the ass now. And he can't say anything, can't say the five words 她是我的妹妹/she is my (little) sister that would shut the fucking ridiculous gossip up. And from his own wife, no less.

For something like a decade, he gets to hear endless rumours of him sleeping with - though he is the only one alive who knows it - his own half-sister and siring his nephew on her, repeated by everyone, including his wife throwing those accusations in his face. And he - he can't say anything, because he and CSSR swore themselves to secrecy to protect her. Even if the accusations hurt her son, even if it hurts him. The oath taken to protect her has now turned on him and her son.

But it would still probably be less painful than exposing the truth and then bringing WWX into the mess. As JFM's blood nephew, he would have far higher expectations of him, a harder time escaping the politics of the main sect families than if he was just the son of a favoured servant - politics he is utterly unsuited for, that will suck his joyful soul dry and eat him alive. And damn it, JFM will at least spare his nephew that, if he can.

JFM grits his teeth around the truth, and calls for a servant to bring some wine to his study. It's been a long day of hearing his wife scream at him about supposedly fucking his own sister.

You ever just wanna beat JFM over the head and scream Communication! Is! Key! To! A! Healthy! Relationship!

#mdzs #jiang fengmien #cangse sanren #madam yu #wei wuxian

[old-knightinsourarmor]

This is Reina, the writer behind knightinsourarmor, a multimuse roleplay blog, featuring two singlemuse blogs for my most active muses: @deibreak for Todoroki Shoto, and @naitfall for Levi Ackerman.

I will interact ONLY with people to have read my rules.

HOPE IS A DANGEROUS THING

MUSES. I portray many muses from various sources of media. This is my muses page. Other than Levi, the rest of my muses don't have an about page, for the reason I'm mobile bound 99% of the time and I can't work with Google Docs / Tumblr codes. I'll do my best to add any missing info in Tumblr posts as time progresses, and eventually properly move everything in Google Docs. My most active and developed muses for the time being are Todoroki Shoto, Levi Ackerman, and Castiel. They'll pop up on the dash more often than others.

REPLIES. I’m a slow writer. Trying to be a somewhat active member of this rotten society, and taking into consideration how things are in my life right now, I doubt I’ll be replying to a thread in less than a day. I might need days, weeks, or months to get to our thread. How long I take is NOT a reflection of my interest in our thread. Sometimes, I lose a specific muse, sometimes I don’t want to write a specific matter, sometimes I get stuck and can’t come up with a reply as good as yours. Or all of the above. But it’s definitely something that has nothing to do with you.

BETA EDITOR. I can only use beta editor, so I'd appreciate if you did the same so I can properly crop our threads.

CROSSOVERS. Crossover verses / AUs / Modern verses are main to my portrayal. I overly enjoy writing them ( sometimes more than canon interactions ), so I'd appreciate if you were interested on them. I don’t mind if I don’t know where your muse is coming from. If both sides want it, we can make this work. Established crossover verses can be found on my muses page, but I'm always willing to jump into any universe / setting / idea.

AGE. I'm over the age of eighteen. I won’t write with anyone younger than the age of eighteen.

DRAMA. I won't interact with anyone participating / supporting call-out culture, drama, or vague-posting. I will hard-blocking anyone making public any issues they have with anyone. I'm not interested to participate in the anti / pro-ship civil war going around and give myself another label. I also happen to be aware, people give different meanings to these terms. In conclusion, I will interact with both sides, or better say, anyone who knows respect, and doesn't spread hatred between the two, or anyone else. I expect to be RESPECTED for the content I post and the people I write with, same way I RESPECT everyone else and their views whether I agree with these or NOT.

I'm a pretty tolerant* person to what people like to write ( teenagers (16+) having sex, problematic ships or themes, etc. ) whether or not I agree with these matters, simply because this is what tagging is for. I expect the same from the people I choose to follow, concerning the matters I like to explore, and my boundaries.

* I'm disgusted I even have to note this, but people read only what their twisted minds think, so by being tolerant, I certainly don't mean with pedophilia.

CONTENT. Fiction and writing is a way of developing emotions / characters / bonds we wouldn't have the chance to explore in real life. The matters I may explore, don't reflect my views in real life. I portray fictional characters, in fictional settings. I approach the characters and the matters I've chosen to write with respect and care, for the sake of writing and nothing else, and I expect the same from my mutuals. I may happen to choose to write about matters ‘ questionable ’ or ‘ disturbing ’, and I will do so for the sake of character building and nothing else. Such matters may be war, drug usage, suicide ideation, dissociation, villain logic, prostitution, romantic ships with age-gap ( Eren & Levi ) & more. I don't expect anyone to agree writing any of these matters as a requirement to be mutuals, but I expect being given the space to explore these as much as I wish, with the people interested.

Concerning the people I choose to write with ( or not ) and the content they choose to write ( with me or not ) it's not anyone's concern than their's or mine's. If you dislike the people I write with, or the content that may pop up on your dash, the content I write with anyone other than YOURSELF, it's not in my concern. I properly tag everything and have warned you, ANYTHING may come up on your dash if you don't block tags. I'm open ( not necessarily interested ) to exploring many sort of questionable matters with the people interested, and to avoid any misunderstandings, if you're going to be an ass* for content you don't like / support, don't follow in the first place. To be less intimidating, this is only a warning, I'll post what I like and I don't want to bother with people who will judge me for it.

* make a fuss instead of blocking or blocking tags

SMUT: Exploring sexual themes is the least of my concerns in this blog. Sexual-themed threads are extremely rare and written only with people I trust, and only for the shake of WRITING. Exploring the bond, the emotions, and the atmosphere to come with the sexual act ( and that's why it's probably going to be 99% of emotions and 01% of the act described ). I prefer writing male x male sexual scenes. Only after a lot of building, I’ll feel comfortable enough to write male x female sexual scenes. I have zero experience and knowledge in writing female x female sexual scenes. I haven't decided on a tag yet, but when I do so, I'll inform you.

TRIGGERS. I tag the triggers my mutuals have on their rules/about page. A post with all the triggers tagged will be added soon. If you need me to tag a specific trigger, feel free to send me an ask or a message. I tag triggers like: ’#yourtriggergoeshere tw’ without the quotation marks. My own triggers are aliens, cockroaches, and drama. That’s the reason I won’t be writing with any single-muse roleplay blogs having alien muses (those having a non-human form). Cartoon/Anime alien faceclaims are the exceptions.

MAINS. I have blogs / threads which I prioritize over others. I don’t practice exclusives but there are roleplay partners I feel close to exclusives, meaning the chances to want to write with the same muse portrayed by someone else are very low. There are, but very low. I always enjoy looking at how someone has made their muse unique in their own way. You can find my main call here.

LIMIT. There's no limit to the asks you can send me or the active threads we may have going.

GENERAL: I'll remind you of the basic stuff: don't pester me for replies, control my muse, force a ship on me, etc. I'm OC friendly, crossover friendly, au friendly. Every romantic bond belongs to its own verse.

DROP. I don't drop threads and asks no matter how old. It's my policy to return the work you've put in writing something for me, even if it takes me years to do so. On your side though, feel free to drop anything you wish, no hard feelings.

MEMES & FANART. I'd appreciate if you reblogged memes / visuals / quotes from the source, unless I've tagged you in any of these. Memes / RP Starters have no time limit.

SPOILERS. This blog is not spoiler-free. I use the tag: #—× spoilers.

ENGLISH. English isn’t my mother language. Keep in mind OOC language ≠ Thread language. I pay little mind and care to ooc posts and communication. Don’t assume the mistakes I make when writing ooc will be the same mistakes on threads. I’m much more careful when writing my muses and do my best to make no mistakes at all. There might be times I make some or write something difficult to understand. Of course my inbox/messages are open for clarifications.

— MUSE SPECIFIC RULES

ARCANE MUSES. My arcane muses are solely based on Netflix’s series. I know nothing of League of Legends or video games in general.

SNK MUSES. I think of SNK as two separate stories that don’t connect with each other. I’m talking about before and after Marley Arc. ( Final season of the anime, chapter 91 of the manga ). Levi’s and Mikasa’s portrayals are based before Marley Arc, and Reiner’s after Marley Arc. I will surely write all three of them at any timeline of the SNK universe, but if not specified or agreed otherwise, my default timelines will be the ones above.

LEVI ACKERMAN. If interested in writing with Levi Ackerman, read this. ( DON'T SKIP )

MIKASA ACKERMAN. I don't ship Mikasa with Eren. Even though their relationship is confirmed to be romantic, in my portrayal, their bond is familial. There are chances I'll write them romantically as well if convinced into the ship, but I won't ship them by default.

MIKAELA HYAKUYA. My portrayal of him will be canon-divergent. Mikaela will be based in his character early in ons ( like, the anime timeline ) and based in my OWN headcanons and development for his character. Meaning I'll be IGNORING canon from some point on. Also, the canon storyline is getting very complicated for me to understand so like I said, I'll stick more to the anime, even if being caught up with the manga. Mikaela is a vampire and that's it.

CASTIEL. My portrayal of Castiel is canon-divergent since I don’t agree with many plot points of the show. I am not caught up with season 15 ( I only know some spoilers ) and my portrayal of Castiel is based mostly between seasons 4 and 9. I will write him at any season except 15, since I don’t know what’s going on. There always are exceptions though. Also, Castiel’s powers are different. At any season I am about to write him, he’ll have the same powers as he did on season 6, meaning much more powerful than he is in the later seasons ( he has his wings, he can time-travel, defeat most creatures etc.).

HOPE IS A GOOD THING. MAYBE THE BEST OF THINGS.

AND NO GOOD THING EVER DIES.

LAST UPDATE: Mar. 01, 2023

LIKES as a sign you've read my guidelines are appreciated even if not necessary.

#—× navigation post.

[sometirfwithopinions]

Hello! I wanted to create a blog where I could safely express my opinions, and hopefully interact with people who share my views. To begin with:

I support the abolition of the prostitution industry.

I 100% believe trans men are men and trans women are women, while I also think that sexism and misogyny are making some kids and teens associate "not conforming to gender stereotypes" to "not being cisgender", which can be problematic.

I think xenogenders and neopronouns are harmful to the entire LGBT community.

I believe that you can definitely be, for example, a heterosexual man and feel attraction to trans women (this also applies to all monosexual identities). I also believe it is perfectly reasonable to refuse to have intercourse with someone if you are not attracted to their genitals.

Trans women do belong in feminism. Their experiences may be different from mine, a cis woman, but that doesn't make them any less valid. Making fun of them and actively silencing their voices is absolutely disgusting.

Bisexuality is not an umbrella term. Bisexuality is a single sexual orientation defined by the possibility to feel attraction towards anyone, no matter their gender nor their sex. Therefore, in my opinion microlabels like "pansexual" or "omnisexual" are counterproductive, useless, biphobic and transphobic.

This blog, however, won't focus on LGBT issues, but I wanted to begin by being honest about my views on that matter. I'll only follow back other adults, and I'll always expect mutual respect. It's also fine if you agree with some of my opinions and disagree with other ones and still decide to follow me.

#tirf #trans inclusive radfem #trans inclusive radical feminism #radfem

[moved-naitfall]

— guidelines

This is Reina. I also own a multimuse blog ( @knightinsourarmor ) featuring some snk muses ( Mikasa Ackerman, Reiner Braun, Kuchel Ackerman ) and others. I also own a Todoroki Shoto blog ( @deibreak ).

I will interact ONLY with people to have read my rules.

REPLIES. I’m a slow writer. Trying to be a somewhat active member of this ( rotten ) society, and taking into consideration how things are in my life right now, I doubt I’ll be replying to a thread in less than a day. I might need days, weeks, or months to get to our thread. How long I take is NOT a reflection of my interest in our thread. Sometimes, I lose a specific muse, sometimes I don’t want to write a specific matter, sometimes I get stuck and can’t come up with a reply as good as yours. Or all of the above. But it’s definitely something that has nothing to do with you.

BETA EDITOR. I can only use beta editor, so I'd appreciate if you did the same so I can properly crop our threads.

CROSSOVERS. Crossover verses / AUs / Modern verses are main to my portrayal. I overly enjoy writing them ( sometimes more than canon interactions ), so I'd appreciate if you were interested on them. I don’t mind if I don’t know where your muse is coming from. If both sides want it, we can make this work. Crossover verses can be found on my muses page.

AGE. I'm over the age of eighteen. I won’t write with anyone younger than the age of eighteen. I am open to roleplay almost anything.

DRAMA. I won't interact with anyone participating / supporting call-out culture, drama, or vague-posting. I will hard-blocking anyone making public any issues they have with anyone. I'm not interested to participate in the anti / pro-ship civil war going around and give myself another label. I also happen to be aware, people give different meanings to these terms. In conclusion, I will interact with both sides, or better say, anyone who knows respect, and doesn't spread hatred between the two, or anyone else. I expect to be RESPECTED for the content I post and the people I write with, same way I RESPECT everyone else and their views whether I agree with these or NOT.

I'm a pretty tolerant* person to what people like to write ( teenagers (16+) having sex, problematic ships or themes, etc. ) whether or not I agree with these matters, simply because this is what tagging is for. I expect the same from the people I choose to follow, concerning the matters I like to explore, and my boundaries.

* I'm disgusted I even have to note this, but people read only what their twisted minds think, so by being tolerant, I certainly don't mean with pedophilia.

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* make a fuss instead of blocking or blocking tags

ERERI: ( Eren & Levi Romantic Relationship ) Check all information here.

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[sofipitch]

I just feel so betrayed by the writers. We’ve supported and defended them from the jump and I loved Sam and Jacob’s portrayals so to get slapped in the face with this?? No TW or anything no care for people who have personally been traumatized by sa and dm…so disgusted

Yeah exactly, after how good episodes 1-4 were, I had basically only had minor complaints. But for the first 4 episodes I thought everyone was in character. So yeah it feels like such a massive betrayal it's just downright confusing. And yeah the trigger warning thing...

This actually reminds me of one of the worst episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Seeing Red. Spike and Buffy had had a sexual relationship but Buffy was trying to pull away, no longer wanting to be with Spike, and Spike almost rapes her trying to convince her to be with him. And later while in season 7 they push more for Spike and Buffy to get together that incident is NEVER brought up bc according to the other writers, Joss Whedon saw rape as a plot conflict, something to move the characters along rather than something that would trigger viewers and make them hate Spike. I personally didn't watch season 7 and this was one of the reasons

So yeah I think it's a combination of just coming up with a shock value plotline to attract viewers a la Game of Thrones and not taking triggering content seriously a la Joss Whedon.

I just don't understand how that episode passed through multiple ppl's hands, writers, script editors, the director, producers, etc etc and they all thought it was okay? Especially with how OOC everything is. Like to me the scene with the tenor was a less intense version of the prostitute scene in the book and movie. In the show Lestat doesn't play with his victim when they are bleeding and screaming for help like he does in the prev two version. Like just based on that I wouldn't have expected this more violent and sadistic Lestat just out of the blue

#vc #asks

[foxxydevil]

Lace & Silken Shadows

So this is a lil something something I'm cooking up because I have mega brain rot. This should be a longer fic, maybe even pretty slow burn-y.

The basic principle is that Alexia, a young destitute female college graduate, gets accepted into the Alchemax bioengineering internship under Dr Miguel O'Hara. She struggles with her abusive home life, making ends meat, and her judgmental pain in the ass lab supervisor who stirs feelings in her she can not even begin to understand and he clearly has a few secret second lives of his own.

Fem!OC/Miguel O'Hara third person dark romance + superhero shenanigans

Word count: 8.6k

Content warnings ⚠️

Past child abuse, sexual trauma, prostitution, discussed current sexual abuse, mild injuries due to abuse, abuse denial, age gap, mentor/student relationship, BDSM

The Boomtown Rats droned a particularly fitting chorus in Alexia’s ear as she took the 9 train, shooting through the dim green pre dawn expanses interrupted by the bright concrete and glass structures of Nueva York.

Tell me why?

I don't like Mondays

Tell me why?

I don't like Mondays

I want to shoot

The whole day down

Grim, she thought and yawned into her hand, a wrist looped through one of the few loops hanging from the ceiling to anchor oneself with. And still, fitting. Nerves coil in her stomach, twisting her guts onto a winch with rhythmic efficiency. It wasn’t hard to feel like she was making the wrong choice, again, as hunger roiled in her stomach and she could almost feel the disgusting rubberized anti-slip flooring of the train through the thinning soles of her shoes.

Accepting the scholarships to go to college had been stupid, even if it had covered some living expenses, but an unpaid post graduate internship?

Alexia's mom's screams of how selfish she was still stung in her ears.

Her heavily pregnant sister-in-law's sneer burned into the backs of her eyes.

Somehow the bruises on her back and the way her shoulder ached as she held onto the wrist strap didn’t seem nearly as bad as the words that had bloomed just as deep on repeat in her mind when her brother had shoved her into the doorframe.

“Selfish little princess.”

“So you're just going to let us all starve for your useless BS?”

“I have done nothing but care for you under this roof since dad died. All you do is take and think you're so much better than us.”

Those memories of screaming and shoving from the last few weeks since she had told them the news about being accepted into the internship program crowded her mind, distracting her from the other morning commuters.

Their own little girl

Sweet 16 ain't so peachy keen

No, it ain't so neat to admit defeat

They can see no reasons

'Cause there are no reasons

What reason do you need?

I can give you at least 3 good reasons, Bob Geldof, she thought as the band launched into the repeating chorus once more and the train drove into a tunnel, transforming the window into a dim mirror.

Fuck, were the bags under her eyes always that obvious? And were the windows smudged or did her bun really have that many drab colored flyaways.

At least she was running a comfortable - more like overly anxious - hour early for the first day of her Alchemax internship. She could probably fix herself up a little nicer in a Starbucks bathroom if they didn't require a purchase. She couldn't afford the dollar menu for breakfast much less a 5$ coffee that would only turn her empty stomach gurgling into agonizing cramps.

And daddy doesn't understand it

He always said she was as good as gold

And he can see no reasons

'Cause there are no reasons

What reason do you need to be shown?

Sorry daddy, it's been a couple of years. You probably wouldn’t recognize me anymore. I had to sell all my gold to keep the house.

It was a bittersweet feeling thinking of her dad today. He may not recognize her, but she hoped he would understand what she had to do, that she had to do it for both of their dreams to come true.

Growing up, before she could even walk on her own, her dad had taken Alexia to work with him, boasting about how she was a junior engineer, and someday, she'll work there too.

And today was that day.

As she stepped off the train, she took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. She glances up at the towering building that houses Alchemax and couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of starting her internship finally, after all the work she had done to stand there.

Of course it wasn't the first time she had stood in this very spot. Aside from the interviews for the internship, her father had been one of their top engineers. He'd even run his own lab.

Alexia grinned to herself as she walked across the plaza to the crowded chain coffee shop. A line snaked out of the building despite the early hour but she wasn't there to order. She walked to the front counter.

"Bathroom code?" Alexia asked the already tired looking barista and coiled the kinked white plastic headphone cord around her ancient, barely working, mp3 player before shoving it into her ancient canvas backpack.

He gave her a blank stare before reluctantly rattling off the code. Alexia thanked him and quickly made her way to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She washed her face with cold water and tried to tidy her hair as best she could. She looked in the mirror and took a deep breath. You can do this, she told herself. You can succeed.

She grimaced at the too small, too off white, button up shirt she wore, the very last button hole secured with a safety pin. One of her brother's friends had popped the plastic button off the other night while tearing at the cheap yellowing fabric with an urgency that still flashed through her mind accompanied with a surge of fear that made her want to heave her empty stomach into the sink.

Her skirt wasn't in much better condition. Despite being black originally it had a gray-ish worn out tinge from being washed a few too many times, having outlived its destined fast fashion lifespan. She knew she should have been wearing sheer tights under it, the expected clean look of a Nueva York business woman, but she hadn't owned an intact pair in years.

Alexia sighed and splashed some more water on her face, as if she could wash away the negative thoughts. She had spent too long letting her circumstances define her, elegant sheer tights or not she was making a new life for herself.

Even being 45 minutes early to her scheduled office hours she decided to head into the intimidatingly dark Alchemax building across the brick courtyard anyways. The front receptionist hadn't even laid out all the badges for new interns on the desk yet, a group of about two dozen hopeful headshots looking up at her from their plastic sleeves growing one by one in neat rows.

Alexia was the only one of the group that had the designation "bioengineering" printed in an all caps cobalt font under her portrait. While Alchemax pursued many scientific fields, none were quite as selective as bioengineering, she had earned high marks in her college courses even with her unusual work schedule to qualify for the prestigious field and stand out among all the other applicants. She grinned as she snagged up the card, a renewed sense of pride warming her chest to push out the fear and anxiety.

“Dr O’Hara already came in a few minutes ago. You can head up to the 15th floor rather than wait. I’m sure he’s not preparing a presentation for you anyways,” the receptionist said, shaking Alexia from her thoughts.

Was that a sympathetic or pained look in her eyes? Oh shit-

“Oh- yeah for sure no point in the full production for just one intern,” Alexia answered with a lopsided grin, trying to sooth her nerves with some humor, give herself more of a chance to see if the receptionist was hinting at a far less dire reason she shouldn't bother waiting.

The look the receptionist gave her was definitely sympathy, that and pity. The look one gave someone who was terminal.

Alexia laughed nervously before turning to make her way to the elevator, not having to wait for the direction to go past the center escalator in the hall and to the row of silver doors hidden behind it. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of pain in her gut again. She could only hope that she would be able to meet the expectations of her mentors and live up to her father's legacy and dreams for her. The elevator doors opened and she stepped in, her heart pounding in her chest.

While most of the other interns would be directed to a variety of conference rooms for their first day and introduction to the company, she was to go directly to the lab. Dr O'Hara, it would seem, did not have a separate office space or need for a larger room.

That sympathetic cringe the receptionist had given her set her mind spinning with worry again. She pictured a stern and intimidating figure, someone who would judge her based on her appearance and pedigree, not on her abilities and work ethic. As she walked down the hallway after a gut lurching short trip up, her footsteps echoed in the silence, the sound of her own breathing deafening as it crowded out every thought with beginnings of an anxiety attack lurking in the recesses of her mind.

A deep voice called out to her from a nearby room. "Hey- are you the new intern?"

Alexia looked over to see a dark haired man standing in the doorway, his suit neatly pressed and tie perfectly knotted. He stared at her, his eyes tired with dark bags that emphasized his already deep set eyes with thick brows hooding his narrowed eyes as if he was already over this interaction, annoyed at the inconvenience of her very existence.

"Yes! Alexia-"

"Uh," she realized her mistake almost immediately as the pause drew out just slightly too long to add her last name naturally, introducing herself by her first name alone. She narrowly avoided her legs tangling under her as she made the sharp stop and turn, walking with a confident proud stride that didn’t exactly match the restricted proper stride of most pencil skirts, the material too worn out to give her the ladylike gait.

Her hand stretched out in an offered handshake. "Alexia Gates."

The man stared at her hand for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he reached out and gripped her hand firmly, his gaze returning to hers.

"Dr O'Hara," he answered, his voice low and gravelly. "You’re early, that's something. Let's get to the lab."

His voice had a rhythmic quality, a scripted practice that hinted at a cool ego he hadn't expected him to be so- large. She never thought of herself as short. Alexia stood a respectable 5'6, neither tall nor tiny. Dr O'Hara dwarfed her, not only because he was at least a foot taller than her but because he was twice her weight, pure muscle. His face wasn’t unfamiliar of course, she had looked him up in the college library almost as soon as she had received her acceptance letter with her program details, but his presence online had been limited to a short corporate bio along with a portrait that was only a few years older than the portrait that glowered at her from the badge clipped to his chest, clearly not one for social media or media engagement in general.

She nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. It was a bad habit, one that sometimes led to the iron tang of blood in her mouth but people rarely noticed, not paying much attention to her face in her field of work.

"Right, yes. The lab," Alexia agreed.

As they started to walk her eyes assessed her new mentor, picking up any details she could glean from his movements alone. Dr O'Hara didn’t so much as walk as he prowled, his shoulders were massive and rolled forward. It wasn't quite in the same way that most tall men seemed to have a permanently shrinked hunch to their posture, used to training themselves into a less intimidating posture, but like Atlas balancing the sky on his shoulders.

They reached the lab without another word while Alexia considered if she was supposed to say something, to make a good impression on the man that the receptionist had seemed to regard as her executioner. She thought better of it as Dr O'Hara tapped his badge to the door lock and held the door for her, gesturing for her to take a seat at his desk at the far side of the room.

She walked ahead of him, feeling his strangely red eyes burning into her back.

Not red, she told herself. A weird brown like clay, people don’t have red eyes.

She slid into the chair, crossing her legs instinctively and placing her hands, one on top of the other, on her knees. It was a defensive position, closed off and protective of her core. Her green eyes followed him as he made his way to the mesh desk chair on the other side of the wide cluttered desk, too focused on deciding if he was a threat or not to take a good look at the rest of the lab.

Of course he was a threat in her mind, look at him.

Alexia launched into the empty pleasant words she knew most men with an ego liked. If she wanted to learn and drag herself into a new life, she could stroke some egos and make pleasant sounds at self important men. If she wanted to survive this world instead of rotting away on the streets, she had to stay on her toes. She couldn't afford Starbucks coffee, much less useless pride.

"I appreciate the opportunity to work with you-"

"Save the pleasantries, Ms Gates. We have a lot of work to do." Dr O'Hara cut her off mid-sentence, his tone sharp and biting,

Her eyes narrowed as her mouth slowly closed, forgetting those little niceties. Ok, maybe fuck not having pride.

"It's called manners, Dr O'Hara. Some of us have them," she answered, voice clipped, before she could stop herself. She knew her greatest downfall was her inability to shut up when annoyed. Even still, she didn't apologize or show any outward signs of regretting the words.

She could already tell the man in front of her wasn't used to getting any lip back, it would probably do him some good and humble him a bit if he didn’t fire her immediately.

Miguel, the name she had gleaned from his online bio since he hadn’t given her his first name, leaned forward in his chair, his eyes boring into her, "Ms Gates, let's be clear. I am not interested in your pleasantries or your opinions. I am here to work, and I expect you to get in line in my lab and not interrupt my day. I did not request an intern, nor am I interested in putting on a kids' lab day. You will stay out of my way and entertain yourself, making yourself useful whenever possible."

A shiver ran down her spine at his direct cold statement. His words had an almost rhythmic quality, the only hint at an accent that matched his tiger eye skin. She idly wondered why everything about him seemed hard as stone from his grinding voice, to his garnet eyes that definitely had to be a normal brown in a more natural lighting.

"I am not here to be your simpering lackey. I'm here to learn hands on and earn my credits, the actual point of an internship. I expect to be respected as a graduate intern who is here on merit and not pay, not treated like a clueless brat," she pushed back, unable to help herself even though every instinct in her told her to shut up or he would lash out and do what men do, take what they desire regardless of what she needs.

Miguel's eyes narrowed as he considered her words, "I respect your determination, Ms Gates, but I will not stand for insubordination. Here’s your first lesson, don’t talk that way to the person who will decide whether or not you actually get a job in this company."

"I will be your lab intern, run any tests or data you like," she agreed, but her eyes were still hard, matching the gemstone hardness of his eyes piercing into her, still determined to lay down her boundaries and not be dismissed when she knew she was worth this internship. "- but I am not some secretary or personal assistant. I do not run around for coffee orders or your dry cleaning."

Alexia was stubborn to a fault, her foot tapping in the air to an anxious beat and flashing the worn-out bottoms of her soles, unintentionally drawing attention to her less than fashionable attire. Dr O'Hara studied her for a moment, his face the picture of exhaustion despite the day just beginning.

“Well, you actually will be doing that. That’s what an intern is. Or did you think we just hired some fresh out of school kids for the fun of it?” he scoffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“You take on fresh out of school adults to learn in the field so we can earn a paid position. I wouldn't call an unpaid internship employment, Dr O'Hara,” Alexia countered, holding perfectly still. She would stand her ground and not give him an inch, but she wasn’t relaxed enough to put on a confident swagger.

“Call it whatever you want, chica. I call it ‘being used’. Welcome to the real world,” he answered, his voice dripping with condescension.

“Oh, I am plenty experienced with how the real world likes to use people up,” Alexia scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “I was under the impression that Alchemax cultivates brilliance, not wastes it.”

“They like the idea of cultivating brilliance. But when it comes to actually doing it- well, that’s a completely different ball game.”

“Maybe drop the bitter tone when you are the one refusing to cultivate. You have one intern, not a herd like the other departments, I'm sure there are far more useful things for me to help with than running errands,” Alexia countered, hoping a little reasoning would work on her reluctant mentor.

“You know, you’re exactly like every other intern. You think you’re so special, that you’re gonna change this place, but you’re just the same as all of the others- in over your head and going nowhere,” Dr O’Hara observed with cruelty and his latin accent became a little more noticeable as his annoyance grew, “I bet in a month’s time, your so called ‘brilliance’ won’t be worth a dime and if anyone remembers you at all it’ll just be as the office coffee girl.”

“I won't be changing this place, but my work will change the world. Not because I'm special, but because I am determined and unlike the other pedigree kids, I need this. They can drop out and cry to their parents. I need the paid offer after the internship,” Alexia spat out, vaguely aware that she shouldn’t be showing so much frustration even as she leaned forward in her chair.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, cure Huntington's disease? You think we take pity on kids who need this? You think we’re gonna hire you just because you have ‘need’ on your resume? That’s not how it works, chica.”

“There is a difference between need and want, Dr O'Hara,” Alexia said through clenched teeth. “When an animal wants, it makes big pouty eyes and begs. When an animal needs, it will chew off its own leg. Nothing stands in the way of its need. I need this and that's what sets me apart. I will do anything I need to to learn and rise above.”

“Sounds like you’ve got drive, which is more than most people,” Dr O’Hara admitted, his brows rising slightly. Was he impressed? “Maybe you’ll make something of yourself in this world after all. But if you want my advice? You’d better take that energy you’re putting into selling yourself- and put it into not pissing me off.”

‘Selling yourself’, that hit a little too close to home for Alexia and she just barely held back a wince.

“Show me an ounce of basic respect for a mentee, and I will respect you as a mentor,” she countered, hating the common demand for respect by men worth far less than the clothes on their back.

“Oh, I see. You’re one of those. You want respect? How ‘bout earn it?” he smeared, his full lips turning up into an amused grin that was closer to a snarl.

“Ah, so you mean ‘treat me like a God or I won't treat you like a person’ when you say 'earn respect’?” Alexia leaned back in her chair again with a roll of her eyes, any hope for finding something worthwhile in the man in front of her gone.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” the older man growled, clearly not enjoying the image she was painting of him. “If you want me to do something for you- like say, teaching you instead of letting you run and fetch- then let me see if you’re actually capable of doing things for me. You think I’m gonna tell my bosses and my colleagues that I should hire you because I feel bad for you? That’s not how things work here. So yeah, earn it.”

“Oh, I am more than ready to earn your recommendation,” Alexia said, standing up and placing her palms flat on his desk. “I am qualified for this internship, I can collect and compile data for you and make base analysis for you to review. I earned this internship by being at the top of my course. ‘Go and fetch’ unfortunately wasn't covered.”

“You know, you’ve got more spunk than any of these other interns I’ve had,” he observed, sounding near defeated or just exhausted. “Fine. Collect some data for me and write me up an analysis, and you can work with me in the field instead of doing coffee runs. You got 48 hours.”

Alexia nodded, a little self satisfied and victorious smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She felt proud for standing up to herself and, from all appearances, gaining an ounce of Dr O'Hara's respect.

Despite herself she felt a growing need for more than him simply relenting to her stubbornness. She felt a desire to make him proud of her as well. She wanted to be more than just an annoying student to him. Alexia wanted him to see her as a peer. As these thoughts swirled in her mind, she barely noticed Dr O'Hara walked around his desk and approached her.

"Now, let's get started on your training, Ms Gates."

She straightened her back as he walked up to her, feeling a tinge of nervousness at his approach. Standing straighter didn't exactly help all that much.

"What would you have me do, Dr O'Hara?" she asked, falling into the comfortable familiarity of referring to him just as she had her professors before graduating college. While she was now 23, it was hard to peg down exactly how old Miguel O'Hara was, though it was safe to say he had at least a decade on her. She couldn't help but feel intimidated by his height and presence, but she did her best not to let it show. Miguel looked at her, his eyes piercing and intense.

"Follow me, Ms Gates. I have something I need to discuss with you." He led her through the lab, his lack of hesitation showing his confidence that she would follow his orders.

Alexia did all but scramble after him, gritting her teeth in annoyance with his tendency to leave her behind and expect her to chase after him already. Within a few steps, she had caught up to him, so that she walked only a step behind him, glaring at the middle of his back, the pure white expanse of his lab coat annoying her.

As they walked through the lab, she could hear the sound of his leather shoes against the tiled floor, the sound echoing through the lab. Suddenly, he stopped and turned to her, his face unreadable.

"Ms Gates, I want you to lift your skirt." He said, his voice calm and collected, as if he hadn’t just made a demand so out of the blue, Alexia swore she heard a phantom record scratch. Maybe it was just the blade of disappointment that sliced through her mind, destroying the small inkling of hope that had warmed her only for a moment.

"What?!"

She had to skid to a stop, stumbling back a few steps. She realized they had gone around a corner, no longer visible from the only entrance in the lab. Her eyes burned with fury, her assumptions of him clear as day. She saw him as just another horny man who thought he could take from her.

But he pointed to a yellowed bruise on the inside of her thigh that was just barely visible under her skirt.

"I want you to show me the bruises on your body," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I need to know if they are a result of consensual... interactions, or if they are something else. As your mentor I have a vested interest in ensuring my employees are in a safe environment."

Alexia's face burned. Not just mortified but ashamed of how quickly he'd noticed, how careless she'd been. She was not about to admit to this intimidating stranger, a man she wanted to respect her, that there were many more and they had absolutely not been her choice. The absolute absurdity of this sudden shift sent her mind spinning.

"I think this is highly inappropriate, Dr O'Hara," she fumed, hoping her anger portrayed her as a woman who was embarrassed, not guilty of his assumptions. "I think what the state of my body is is none of your business."

Miguel eyed her as he considered her words. "Ms Gates, I am your employer, and I expect a certain level of professionalism and trust from you. I will not stand for insubordination or dishonesty." He stepped closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers.

"And I will not be exposing myself at my workplace," she hissed between clenched teeth, her fists balling at her sides and refusing to back down even a single inch.

"You will not touch me, Dr O'Hara," she sneered, assuming his approach was to force her compliance. "You will not touch me, do you understand?"

He cocked his head, his nostrils flaring and it was as if her words were a physical strike that he flinched back from.

"Ms Gates, I understand a situation like this could be misinterpreted, but I do not intend to touch you. I assure you that when you show me these bruises, I will respect your boundaries."

To Alexia's surprise he clearly seemed offended, possibly hurt, at the accusation she had thrown her way.

Her face heated as she looked down, her eyes burning into his chest without actually seeing him.

"That bruise is the only one, a clumsy accident," she tried to explain, blatantly lying through her teeth and hoping he would just back off even if she had to portray herself as a clutz. "I'm fine, really. You don't need to worry about it."

Miguel crossed his arms over his chest, his face pulled into hard lines of barely controlled restraint. "Ms Gates, this is a non-negotiable for my employment. That was the last time you will ever lie to me," he paused, and Alexia could hear the unspoken threat hanging between his words. “Tell me you understand. If you wish to be taught by me, I need you to show me these bruises, otherwise you can leave."

It was unexpected for her, the mere option of refusing his demand. Of course, she would lose her dream if she did not comply, but he wasn't going to force her. He was giving her a choice.

"I understand," she gritted out, feeling so much more like a chastised child than a grown woman being told to expose herself, and somehow, as absurd as it seemed, it helped. It made her feel like he genuinely wasn't just trying to leer at her, but was a protective figure trying to gauge her situation to see if she was safe.

"What are you worried about?" Dr O'Hara asked, his voice kept low but it was impossible to tell if he was trying to be soothing or if he was holding back rage, maybe both.

"You, Dr O'Hara- you worry me."

"Elaborate, Ms Gates," he continued to push at her, making her open her thoughts to him.

“You’re smart and strict like my previous professors, you clearly have the qualifications and experience to be a fantastic mentor in this program, but you have the approach and temperament of a barbaric di-” she suddenly cut herself off, realizing she was letting her own temper get her into more potential trouble.

“Language is permissible in my lab, Ms Gates,” he allowed, apparently not considering her words a sign of disrespect this time. “As long as it’s used constructively.”

She narrows her eyes right back. “I was going to say dickhead, but I’m not sure if that's entirely constructive.”

“Give me an example of my alleged behavior, and I’ll decide.”

"You just hauled me around to a private corner and told me to lift my skirt with no explanation or warning beforehand. Asking about the bruise first would have been the least you could do," she snapped, fidgeting with the stretched hem of her skirt with her fingers.

“This is just an examination, for your own good. Nothing inappropriate," he insisted instead, his sheer mass uncompromising. “I’m waiting.”

She starts lifting the hem of her shirt up to uncover her torso, just below her breasts so he could see the band of her black bra but nothing more. Around her hips, only a few days ago, there were more bruises, clear marks of a painful grip but they had faded, he couldn't see anything.

"See, nothing." She said, her voice strained as she tried to keep it together. "I'm fine."

He lowered himself into a squat, his gaze traveling over Alexia's torso, the low waistband of her skirt, then dropping to the knee-length hem. “Now raise your skirt.”

His bent position puts him eye-level with her pelvis, despite his hulking size, and she was momentarily distracted by the soft curls of his dark brown hair, as if her mind was trying to slip away from this dangerous situation rather than experience it.

Physically, he was in an unusual position for a man in her experience. He was lower than her, his face below her waist. More vulnerable, right? She tried to reason in her own mind. Yet he was still trying to take in a way. Alexia could knee him in the nose and run. But the need or want wasn't quite rising up the way she expected it to.

Alexia bunched her skirt up with both fists, lifting it only three inches above her knees, stubbornly refusing to expose herself any more as she kept her gaze lowered, not meeting his eyes.

"Ms Gates, please. This is not an interrogation. I just need to know if there are any other marks on your body that should not be there."

His voice whispered roughly into the foot of space separating his face and her thighs. His hands were there, too, dangling between them, close enough to grab her between the legs if that was his plan. A slight tremble twitched through his fingers, and her shoulders tightened. She shook her head after hesitating, a clear lie but she couldn't voice it. She'd promised herself she wouldn't show weakness.

"Alexia," Miguel said, his tone becoming more stern, as he took in her discomfort. "Keep lifting your skirt."

Alexia took a deep, shaky breath, forcing herself to look down at him. She tried her best to focus past her humiliation.

She lifted her skirt more, until the worn out blackish gray fabric was just barely concealing the purple cotton of her panties.

“Widen your stance.”

She slid her feet out, wobbling with the effort just to keep breathing.

“Just like that,” he breathed, his voice as low as sin. “Good girl.”

His praise wrapped around her like a warm hug. Alexia couldn't remember the last time someone embraced her without hurting her, but if Dr O'Hara spent the next nine months calling her a good girl, she might never need a hug again. The sensation of fear and comfort was dizzying. Who was this man, and why was she not running?

He dipped his head, angling closer. “I’m looking for marks on your inner thighs.”

There were in fact more bruises, some more obvious in their origin than others. Some teeth and some hands. Others were just angry splotches of sickly color.

Alexia's face stayed carefully blank, not revealing the nature of the marks on her skin as she digested her own whirlwind of emotions.

Miguel's eyes scanned her body, his expression remaining as unreadable as her own.

"Alexia," he said, his voice low and commanding. Was that the first time he said her first name? No, he said it before too. She was again distracted, this time by the sound of her name on his lips. "I'll remind you that I need you to be completely honest with me, at all times."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, fighting to focus.

"Ok, Dr O'Hara," she answered, her voice stiff, only robotic as she stood in front of him, her thighs completely exposed, staring him down with her steely green eyes. "I understand."

Miguel nodded, his eyes back on hers, the impossible dark red hue seeming to boil with some heat she could not place with confidence.

"I need to know if these bruises are a result of consensual interactions, or if they are something else."

"I wasn't raped," Alexia said firmly, defensively even as if she was insulting her for even insinuating that 'weakness'. Everything in her face said she believed that she was being honest. But the lack of elaboration was concerning. She hadn't said no. She hadn't fought back. She had allowed it to happen. She had allowed it to happen again and again.

Miguel's expression darkened, his eyes never leaving hers. "You don't need to be defensive, Alexia. I just want the truth."

She pulled her skirt back down, preferring the anger that boiled in her stomach to the uncertainty of not understanding his motives and the feelings his words stirred in her.

"None of this is any of your concern, Dr O'Hara," she repeated, emphasizing his name to put distance between them when he had slipped into using her first name. "I can handle my own probleMsms."

Miguel took a step towards her, his eyes still locked on hers. "Alexia, you can't handle this on your own. You need help, and I'm here to give it to you."

"I am here to intern in your lab," she shot back, teeth bared like a snarling wolf. "I would appreciate it if we could refocus this orientation on your work in the lab and not my personal life."

Miguel's eyes narrowed, his words turning cold once more, "Don't try to change the subject, Alexia. I won't allow it." He takes another step towards her, his body tense as if ready to fight.

"You don't have a choice in what is or isn't allowed," she answered, standing firm but crossing her arms under her chest, feeling cornered despite having the option to turn and run. "I am just an intern here, Dr O'Hara. I don't have to submit to your demands."

Miguel's eyes flash with anger, but he quickly regains his composure.

"On the contrary, Ms Gates. This is my lab, and you are my intern. You will submit to questions and my interest in your safety, or you will no longer be my intern."

Alexia bit her lip, her eyes darting around the room as she contemplated her options.

"Fine," she snapped, her eyes meeting his again. He wanted to ask questions? He could ask questions. It wouldn't be her fault if the answers made him uncomfortable.

"I wasn't assaulted. I allowed it to happen. I allowed it to happen again and again," her voice was cold and detached, as if she was recounting a grocery list rather than speaking about something so personal.

"Unfortunately I don't take coworkers or supervisors as clients, so you're out of luck," she sneered, needing the biting edge to sooth her own insecurity, bring her back from the dark pool of dissociation that drew her in with a different kind of comforting embrace.

Miguel's eyes widened slightly, his composure broken for the moment.

"That's not what I asked, Alexia," he said, his voice calm but with a hint of warning. "I asked you to be honest with me, and I expect nothing less."

"I am being honest. Are you fishing for proof? Trying to see how open I'd be to you toying with me?" Her question sounded like a taunt, another jab to get him to back off, but something in her eyes said that was truely what she thought of him.

Miguel shook his head, his expression softening slightly. "No, Alexia. I'm not fishing for proof. I simply want to know what happened so that I can better help you." He stepped closer to her again, his eyes locked on hers.

This time she did step back. His tenderness seemed to scare her more than his harsh words. Anger was easy and predictable, his kindness screamed of tempting manipulation. A facet of masculinity she did not see often and trusted less.

"Fuck off, Dr O'Hara." She spat, turning to leave.

Miguel caught her arm, his grip firm but gentle.

"Alexia, please. Let me help you." He pleaded, his voice low and earnest. "I care about you, and I want to make sure that you are safe."

She huffed, indignant, and turned to leave.

A man she barely knew, caring for her? BS

Miguel held her arm, his grip firm but gentle, stopping her from leaving. "Don't walk away from me, Alexia."

She whipped around to face him, her eyes blazing with anger. His strength was overwhelming, even just his arm on hers wouldn't budge an inch as she tried to yank away. Still, this was much more comfortable.

"Don't enjoy the view?" She sneered. "You should focus on your work, Dr O'Hara. I don't need your protection."

Miguel's grip on her arm tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as he leaned in close, his eyes intense and focused on her.

"Here’s today's lesson," he erased the distance between them leaning into her space. "Don’t question me. Don’t lie to me. And never look away from me." He straightens. "Sit down."

He pulled one of the lab chairs towards them, angling it for Alexia to sit. They were ridiculous demands and yet she found herself sitting.

"If you slip up, I will punish you," he promised, his voice low and dangerous. "I do not accept excuses or sniveling. Any distractions, any problems in your life affect our lab work and I will leave my own welts on your pretty ass." He punctuated his words with an intensity and confidence that shocked her, had he really just said that?

Alexia swallowed hard, feeling a mix of fear and arousal. She hated being bossed around, but she also found herself drawn to the power in Miguel's words.

Her pupils expanded as she looked up at him. Approval shone in his face at whatever he saw in hers. He smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Good girl," he said again, the two words sparking through her veins. His voice had softened again as he released her. "Now, let's get back to work." He turned as if to go somewhere, but paused to look back over his shoulder. "And make sure you wear a damn damn lab coat."

It was far from the first time she had been referred to as a good girl. Generally the words felt demeaning, more insulting than genuine. The warm tension in her stomach, the tension that shot further down, made her crave those words in a maddening confusing way.

She shook her head, trying to shake off the feeling like a mutt shaking of the rain rain.

"I- I don't have a lab coat," she said, flushing with embarrassment.

"I didn't say you had to have one, you have to wear one," he said, his eyes holding on to her with a raised brow, not quite grasping what the issue was.

She felt the fire in her stomach lessen, but she still felt flushed.

"I don't have one-" she repeated.

"Get one," he interrupted her as if she answer was obvious and she was simply dull.

"Can it wait until the beginning of the month? I don't have the cash right now..." she clenched her jaw, muscles tightening. She'd been hoping to get a new pair of shoes now that she'd be on her feet all day again. Well, not new, just newer. She'd get lucky if she found a lab coat at goodwill with it not being Halloween.

Miguel sighed, his expression softening slightly but annoyance at this petty inconvenience pulled at his face, irking Alexia.

"Alright, I'll cover it for now," he said, pulling out his wallet. "But you have to manage your finances better. We can't have our brightest minds distracted by trivial matters."

Her pride choked her off, but not only her pride. In her life, there was only one reason a man did kind things, and that was to put a woman into debt to him so he could demand from her body.

"So kind of you," she said, sarcastically. "But I don't rely on charity, Dr O'Hara. I will keep your brilliant financial advice in mind."

Miguel narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening again.

"I don't give charity, Alexia. I expect something in return." He stepped forward, his body inches from hers. "And if you don't deliver, we will have a problem."

This time she did lean back, her hackles raised.

"That is exactly what I was worried about. I have no interest in delivering on any of your disgusting demands," she snapped back. It was maybe presumptuous of her to imagine his expected payment as lewd but that was her experience with life, the evidence of that were in the bruises under her clothes that he had seen. She couldn't afford to be naive.

Miguel's expression darkened, his jaw clenching with anger. "You have no idea what you're dealing with, Alexia," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"I think we both know that I have a very good idea of what I'm dealing with, Miguel," she shot back, matching his tone. If he was going to insist on using her first name then he would get the same, regardless of his preferences. "I will not be put in the position of being indebted to a man who thinks he can take what doesn't belong to him."

Miguel's eyes narrowed, his expression cold. "I will make you an offer, Alexia," he said, his voice low and calculated.

"Enlighten me," she ground out, too curious not to hear his offer though it was clear from the tension in her shoulders that she already planned to reject it.

Miguel took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly. "I will give you a clean slate," he said. "No more debts, no more bruises. I will help you rise above your circumstances and become the successful woman I know you can be." He paused, his eyes holding hers.

"I will be doing that regardless of your help," she answered stubbornly. It was a tempting offer, as Alchemax's top bioengineer Alexia had no doubt he was living comfortably. "What would you require for your generous offer?"

Miguel smiled, his expression confident. "Simple," he said. "A little obedience, a little respect. I will train you to become the best version of yourself." He stepped closer, his body inches from hers.

"Bullshit," she answered, standing her ground and squaring her shoulders. "You would require that regardless. Why would you give me a 'clean slate' for something that's already expected?"

Miguel shook his head, his eyes holding hers. "Because I know your potential, Alexia. I see it in your eyes when you talk about your work. And I want to help you realize that potential," he said, his voice earnest. "And I won't take anything that doesn't belong to me."

Alexia's sharp green eyes considered him for a moment. She still deeply distrusted him, had no reason to trust any man, but the offer was so tempting. She knew she was worth it, that she had things to offer this lab and the world as a whole that only she would be able to accomplish. She had no doubts about her abilities, only the chances of her surviving long enough to realize her potential.

"And what exactly does a clean slate entail?" she asked, the hesitation in her voice already giving away that she would cave and agree. She still believed Dr O'Hara would take advantage of her body, but what difference would it make if it was him or some guy off the street? She needed a chance to prove herself, and this seemed to be her best option.

Miguel smiled, his expression smug as he saw her stubbornness start to give.

"It means a new beginning, Alexia," he said, his tone condescending. "A chance to start over and achieve your goals. It means becoming the best you can be, free from any distractions." He stepped closer, his body inches from hers.

"I know what you're trying to sell," she retorted, annoyed. He sounded like a car salesman, raving about the features of the car when you asked for the price.

At least that's what she imagined a car salesman would do, she had never bought a car before.

"What are you giving? Clean slate? I'm not going to magically be able to pay my bills and be 'distraction free' just because you said so with an unpaid internship. If I had better options for a job I would have taken them."

He stepped even closer, his face only inches from hers. "You will work for me three nights a week, in exchange for room and board," he said.

"You want me to abandon my family to the streets so I can be an in-house prostitute?" She sneered, his assumptions about this 'work' he was offering clear.

Miguel's expression darkened. "Do not insult me, Alexia," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I have offered you a chance to change your life for the better. And you will not turn it down."

"I do not need your help. All I am here for is this internship under you. I will sort the rest out myself," she decided, stubbornly.

Refusing his offer was hard but she was far too proud to give in to the one person who's respect she wanted. All she could see now was that he was just like every other man, ignoring her true potential for a chance at her body.

Miguel shook his head, his expression twisting with disappointment.

"I warned you, Alexia," he said, his voice cold. "If you don't accept my offer, you will be nothing more than a used up, forgotten whore for the rest of your life."

Alexia's shoulders rolled back, stretching to her full height that was nothing compared to his. Despite her confidence and strength of will she was still small. She knew she should back down, but couldn't.

"That's where you're wrong, Dr O'Hara. My name will go down in history. I will far surpass any measly legacy you leave behind with your step stone findings or as my mentor," she answered, her eyes alight with that passion, a confident promise her father had whispered in her ear before he died. "My name will be in every textbook for the next 150 years."

Miguel's eyes narrowed, his expression a mix of annoyance and admiration.

"You are one stubborn woman," he said, his voice a mere mutter of frustration at her words. "But I admire your determination. I will give you one more chance to reconsider my offer."

"I am not interested in being your free use slut in exchange for a place to live. I don't need you to take care of me. I can take care of myself."

Miguel's e eyes filled with a dangerous intensity. "What is giving you the idea that I want you to prostitute yourself to me? Is that how you make money now?" he asked, his voice a low growl. He had assumed that she had an abusive boyfriend or something similar. Her immediate assumption of sex in exchange for his help opened up other possibilities.

"What I do outside of this lab is none of your concern," she repeated her earlier words, but there was uncertainty in her eyes. He didn't just deny her allegations, he was disgusted. If that wasn't his intent then what was? Was he really different? "I will not be in debt to you."

Miguel shook his head, his expression unreadable. "You are far too proud for your own good, Alexia," he said. "But you will learn humility under my care. You will learn to respect those who help you, and be grateful for what they give you." He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And you will earn my respect."

"And I can do all that the normal way, without you demanding to see my skin or forcing me to live where you want me to live," she stood her ground.

"You don't truly understand what I'm offering you, Alexia."

This time, Alexia finally took a step towards him, refusing to let him intimidate her.

"Then explain," she demanded, eyes cold. "Stop being vague and threatening and explain exactly what you're offering me and what you expect me to give as payment for your generosity."

Miguel took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly. "I'm not asking for anything in return, Alexia," he said, his voice calm and reasonable. "I simply want to help you get to where you want to be in life. And I can offer you the resources to do so." He gestured towards the lab around them.

Alexia looked around, her eyes gave away her thoughts. She wanted to believe him, she wanted his words to be true and to finally have a little help in the world.

"I can't trust that," she said, her voice surprisingly soft, even in her own ears. It felt like a confession more than a rejection. "Nothing is free."

"Go home, Ms Gates," Dr O’Hara ordered, but there was none of the expected rejection in his own voice.

Alexia looked up at him, her eyes wide not in confusion but fear that he was firing her, judging her not worth his time. Why did this man have to be the only one alive who's approval she sought?

"Think about what I'm offering, get yourself a lab coat, and come back tomorrow morning," her mentor listed another few orders, his voice and the sheer exhaustion in his shoulders hinting at some line of thought that Alexia couldn't begin to guess at. "8:30 am, sharp."

#fanfic #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv fanfiction #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel smut #atsv smut

[emblemxeno]

Anon Ask About JPN Media

Triggering topics underneath the cut

Anonymous asked:

It additionnally doesn't make sense to say that jpn media all have a pedo bait. The modern world may seems obsessed over them but honestly

1, pedophilia is a rather modern concept and back then, the religious weight of relationship outside of marriage + of punitions and the mores + the fact that it did existed but in a different form. Back then it was child prostitution, nothing with what those people are afraid of and that child prostitution was generally young teenagers, post puberty because back then, and even now, 15 and the likes of it is the age of consent / sexual majority in big part of the world.

2, pedophiles are only a small, very small amount of the mondial population, so who would think of appealing to them ?

3 , the great majority of pedophiles have been proven to not be especially attracted towards children, they were just assholes. Heck, there were even some case of people who have attractions towards children seeking helps and treatement in an hospital for people with mental disorders, seeking to be healed.

4, the content they fear so much and that they keep on denouncing are hightly under control since the governement ITSELF watches it and filters it so there ain't no way, would an anime have that, that the jpn authority, who are not guys that likes to jokes with those things, would have let that slide. And in general that kind of content involve ACTUAL children and are very hard to find. When anime has a loli/shota content that makes you go "NNNNNNOOOOOOPPPPE" it's often a R 18 rated kind and is less diffused, has less popularity and so on and so on. Hentai/ecchi means R18 so it's for a mature audience and it's only THERE that there might be the "shotacon" or "lolicon" they fear so much. It was the case for Boku no Pico (god why does this exist) and others, many others.

5, Last time I checked Japan did not have such a hight rate of pedocriminality as the Internet tries to make it seems. Heck, Western countries have a highter rate!! And even if the age of consent that was 13 was rised up to 16, the prefectures ALWAYS had a higher age consent then the 13 years thing. And I'd like to add that age of consent/sexual majority doesn't mean that 45 years old can sleep with little 15 years old, but that a 15 year old is considered mature enough to express consent or not in the case of... i don't know ? dating someone who is 17 and might be legally an adult next year without ending up in prison ? That and the fact that civilian majority is also considered not to be enough for the people who complain since for them a 19 year old is still to young to date a 25 years old because it's only at 25 that you are a fully brain developped adult... yeah sure, numbers reflects the maturity, as if there were not case of 26 year old being less mature than 18 year old.

Just to say, when we don't live in the country and only knew of Japan throught internet and stuff, best to not assume how things go. Different cultures doesn't mean they aren't aware of the same moral problem than in the West or the rest of the world, but simply that their culture offers them different way of handling it.

Now they can shit as much as they want on Japan for having naked png that have a kids' shape, but Westernian art did too, yet I don't see anyone shitting on Botticelli for paiting a naked baby.

It is a very fascinating conversation to be had, especially since I think people really misrepresent how Japan's consent laws work. They see the "13/14 aoc" and go into a frenzy or just claim that Japan is full of pervs and honestly it gets preeeetty damn racist/xenophobic. Like, it intersects into this position of "the Japanese are morally bankrupt and seek to titilate/make money over all else and that's why they try to appeal to the lowest common denominator" and that's really yikes. People are so quick to weaponize their disgust-which for topics like this it's understandable, but still eh. There's more nuance to these types of conversations, and to generalize an entire country as being disgusting shows that the nuance is lost on people.

Plus, as you say, loli/shota stuff itself is still extremely niche in Japan, so it's not as prevalent as people make it out to be. It's just... again, adults complain about horny moments in shows meant for high schoolers lmao.

#tw pedophila mention #fandom stuff

[lemonhemlock]

Re: the "less discriminating" line in Ep9 - besides the Mushroom interpretation (which at this point I feel like the writers should be smart enough to stay away from), the other interpretation I could see from it would be that Aegon's visiting prostitutes that are way less morally upright, or who even participate/work in the child fight clubs.

There's speculation that the white-haired bastard boy noticed by the Cargylls in the fighting pits is meant to be Gaemon Palehair, who's the son of a prostitute named Essie in the books. So if it is indeed Gaemon, then maaaaybe it implies that within this child-fighting ring culture, there's prostitutes who get or are forced to get their bastards to participate in it, and one of them could be Essie. Mysaria used to work at the Street of Silk and she's disgusted by the practice, so maybe most of the other brothels there feel the same, and that's why the brothel owner refers to the places Aegon frequents/the prostitutes he visits in such shady terms. They are "less discriminating" of the awful things that go down there, which.... I guess could leave room for the Mushroom interpretation, but the wording being vague enough could allow it to refer to the child-fighting pits instead.

It's still pretty fucked up, but I feel like at least this interpretation doesn't make Aegon significantly worse than he already is. Hess has been weirdly sympathetic to Aegon in some of her comments and I believe Condal said he was genuinely interested in his reign (don't quote me, that's just what I heard he said), so to me, it really seems like the writers' intentions was to make him start off awful, and then gradually have him become more sympathetic and slightly less awful towards the end. It's a very ambitious, very risky writing choice, one that I think most people (including myself sometimes) are dubious that they could pull off. But who knows?

It's the only way I can rationalize the decision to give him this plotline of child-fighting pits, for Aegon to go from someone who lets his bastards fight other children in inhumane conditions to someone that, by the end of the war, spares Gaemon from death despite not sparing any other pretender kings, and even makes him a ward of the crown. That, and perhaps giving Gaemon a more detailed backstory.

You might be right, but there's no way to say for sure until someone confirms it in an official capacity. I tend to get convinced by Occam's Razor myself, though, and this explanation is a little more roundabout.

Whatever it is, I don't think it was meant to paint Aegon in a good light either way. Like, an implication that he'd be sexually open to people of all genders and races wouldn't be a bad thing, but I don't think we're lucky enough for them to have meant it that way.

This is going a little off-topic, but I am SO rolling my eyes at the fact that they turned MYSARIA of all people into this UNICEF spokeswoman and defender of the downtrodden. Mysaria, who in the text delights in cruelty and hurting children especially. Meanwhile, Aegon gets saddled with her worst qualities, even though the only source for this is Rhaenyra!stan Mushroom, who wasn't even in King's Landing at this time. Please be serious. 🙄

They also did Daemon this huge favour (albeit inadvertently) by racially diversifying his sexual partners. Because my man only fucks lily-white Valyrian-looking women in the books, make no mistake. Race-swapping both Mysaria and Laena makes his Targaryen supremacy less apparent, although I do understand it from a production perspective. It would be ridiculous for a show of Game-of-Thrones magnitude to have only white actors in it. But, at the same time, if you're tempering characters like DAEMON and MYSARIA, could you please have the decency to not turn the green mascot into a pantomime villain? 😑

#ask #anon #hotd critical [aegon]