#paint me cynical but this sucks

[publicenemy212]

Filthy (Lute x fem!sub!reader)

Warnings: smut, dubcon, descriptions of violence, fingering, gagging, choking, knifeplay, degradation, sadomasochism dynamics

crossposted from AO3 under public_enemy_212. requests open for any hellaverse wlw pairings or f!reader

word count: 1280

NSFW under the cut

“You disgust me.”

The angel’s voice hissed, mere inches away from my ear. I groaned in response, my lips sticky and wet with my own blood. Her gloved hand grasped my hair with enough force to make me feel like my scalp was ripping off. Perhaps, at that point, that was the only thing keeping my eyes open. Without warning, she threw my face towards the pebbled alleyway ground.

My skull cracked on impact. The world faded to nothing, but only for a moment. Curse my new body and its resilience.

Sharp pain exploded in my chest as the exorcist sent a flying kick directly at my chest. I whimpered in agony and helplessness.

“Aww, does that hurt?” she purred mockingly. “The little sinner’s regretting her choices now?”

With effort, I painstakingly lifted my head off the filth-stained dirt to face the angel. All I could see was a blur of white and gray against the dark red background of Pentagram City. Extermination Day was almost over. I just had to survive until then.

I opened my mouth to speak and immediately fell into a coughing fit. Fresh blood splattered out, painting the concrete crimson. Hacking and spluttering for another minute, I forced out my words.

“Y-yes, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please—”

I heaved again. Fuck. The angel clicked her tongue impatiently as she stood with arms crossed, watching me vomit up more internal bleeding.

So much pain. So much pain. Hurts. Everything hurts.

I fell over onto my side again, groaning and panting for air.

“Are you done?”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, you’re wasting your time with me…” I rasp weakly. 

If pleading for my life wouldn’t work, I might as well try sucking up to her ego.

I prayed to God, Satan, whoever would listen; if only the exterminator would just move on to find other victims and leave me alone.

To my dismay, she only began to laugh.

Despair washed over my broken body. Was there no end to this torture?

“Wasting my time? No, no. I’ve already killed my fair share of your filthy kind. Now, it’s my turn to have a bit more fun by making you suffer slowly before I eventually kill you too.”

A sob bubbled out of my bloodied throat. I crumbled to the ground once more.

“Lute. Remember this name. It’s the last thing you’ll hear before you die.”

Something flipped inside me as all the pain and terror suddenly turned into indignancy and rage. Gritting my teeth, I summoned all my willpower to drag myself up. Glaring, I snarled, “You call yourself an angel? After making thousands of souls suffer and die a second death, as if dying once wasn’t enough?”

“It’s what you sinners deserve.” Lute brandished her sword, as if challenging me to take another step forward.

I was walking into a certain death, that I was sure of. But she was going to kill me regardless; why not try to fight back?

Claws out, I lunged forward unsteadily. In response, the angel flew forward at an inhuman speed and chokeslammed me directly into a wall. I scrabbled helplessly at her grip.

Lute roared with sadistic laughter.

Leaning closer, she whispered, “Can’t speak? Devil got your tongue?”

Fighting my survival instincts, I let go of her fingers around my neck…

…and sent my fist flying towards her face.

The blow landed squarely, shattering the glass of the exorcist mask.

“FUCK!” Lute screamed in shock. The surprise loosened her grip, allowing me to breathe only slightly more easily for a second. She ripped off the broken helmet with one hand and tossed it aside, using the same hand to punch me in the jaw.

I grinned at her distress. So it was possible to get under these exorcist angels’ skin. I decided, for my own cynical entertainment, to take it a step further.

“There is no way you don’t get off to this,” I croaked.

Lute growled in frustration. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

Her eyes flicked to the entryway of the dingy alley. No one was watching. The only sounds were the occasional distant screaming and the sound of my pained moaning and wheezing.

Her golden eyes slid back to the demon under her control, narrowing as she gritted her teeth.

She leaned in and kissed me with a fervor reminiscent of a starved animal. Her hand slackened again, her body pressing against mine. My blood smeared on her soldier’s uniform, mixing with the various splatters of her other, unluckier victims from earlier in the day. When we finally broke, gasping for air, Lute let go of my neck and stepped back. She drew her saber once more and pressed it against my bruised throat.

I whimpered and pressed my legs together, desperate to relieve the growing need between my thighs.

Lute was absolutely taken aback and scowled in disgust at my reaction.

“ Filthy. ”

Yet, against her own venom-laced words, her other hand slid down my body. 

“ Worthless .”

Two fingers pressed against my cunt.

My eyes screwed shut. I didn’t even know what I was feeling anymore. Pain from my injuries mixed with lust and pleasure at the angel’s ghosting touch. Oh, agony. Pure, sweet agony.

“...Are you serious? Does beat within an inch of your life turn you on that much?”

With that, she shoved her fingers into my mouth. I gagged at the sudden intrusion while she continued to finger-fuck my mouth with no breaks, generously coating her hand with my saliva and blood. Once she was satisfied, she drew her hand out and slapped me so hard my eyeballs shook in my skull. I moaned loudly and Lute immediately smacked her palm back over my mouth.

“Shut the fuck up before somebody finds us.” She hissed dangerously.

Once she was sure no other angels were coming, she sighed and returned her attention to me. Lute ripped off a chunk of my tattered clothes and shoved it in my mouth as a makeshift gag. 

Her hand then returned to my pants, sliding beneath the fabric and between my slick folds. She wasted no time in dipping right into my hole, using three fingers immediately without giving me any time to adjust. I yelped in pain, but the gag muffled any words I had. Lute grinned and leaned directly next to my ear.

“What’s the problem? It hurts? This is your punishment for going against Heaven, so you better fucking take it.”

Drool and tears collected at my chin, mixing together before dripping to the ground. My body threatened to lose consciousness with each brutal thrust. My head fell forward and landed on Lute’s armored shoulder as I continued to babble incoherently, the exorcist pushing me for orgasm after orgasm with no mercy. Only after I finally passed out from the sheer exhaustion of hours of getting fucked up and being straight up fucked did she pull out and toss my limp body aside.

Much to my disappointment, I woke up again to Lute kicking me repeatedly.

“Hey. Get up.”

Her boot pushed my head face-up to check if I was conscious. I stared at her, bleary-eyed. “You’re still alive? Huh. That works for me. I want you to watch me kill you.”

A flash of light. Warm liquid started gushing out of my chest. I looked down slowly to see the divine metal sunken halfway through my chest. Lute then yanked her blade out effortlessly and walked away without a word, leaving me to bleed out in a pool of my blood and cum.

The siren signaling the end of this year’s Extermination Day was the last thing I heard before eternal darkness swallowed me whole.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hellaverse #lute smut #hazbin hotel smut

[queer-reader-07]

if you would allow me to be sappy on main for a moment, i think there is something so powerful in choosing to fall in love with the world and with the human story.

i can't speak for everyone, but i know that i went through a period in my life where i was nothing but cynical and nihilistic about the world. i had convinced myself that nothing mattered, that if the world fell apart before my eyes it was what we deserved.

but here's the thing, cynicism isn't sustainable. you are never going to be able to find joy in this world if you convince yourself everything sucks and there's no joy to even be found in the first place.

yeah, sometimes the world does suck. sometimes all i want to do is curl up in a corner and sob because i'm violently scared that my loved ones won't come home safe because they dared to exist as themselves in this world. i cannot put into words the levels of fear i felt for my mom's safety during 2020/2021 when anti-asian hate spiked in the US, i worried everyday that she would not come home because how dare she exist as an asian woman in this country. when anti-trans legislation started picking up steam i was, and still am, scared for the safety of myself and all the trans people i know. the world sucks sometimes, people suck sometimes. but i refuse to let myself give up.

i want to believe in beauty of the world, i want to be able to revel in the fact that we are alive, that i am alive. and that our being alive means that we can create beauty and wonder and joy.

i get to enjoy the art that people create, because oh how special is it that we create art? that i can open my phone and read beautiful words crafted by people oceans and countries away. that i can bask in the beauty of the drawings and paintings people so kindly share with the world. that i can walk into a library and be surrounded by generations of stories that i have the privilege of reading. that i can go to a concert and experience the transcendence of live music.

but i also get to experience the beauty of nature. i get to watch as the clouds turn pink on my early morning drives to school. i get to take photos of the cherry blossoms in the few weeks that they turn pink in the spring. i get to look out my car window on a clear day and see the mountain grace us with her beauty.

i am alive. we are alive. why should we waste this life wallowing in cynical despair?

i have to believe in the world. i have to believe in the human story. i have to hold onto the hope that life is worth living and that things will get better. i am reminded of that hope every time i see art that makes me feel alive, every time i read a book or a poem or a story that makes me feel like being a human is a beautiful thing, every time a song transports me into a new world. i am reminded of that hope every time i talk to my friends and am reminded of why i love them so deeply. i am reminded of that hope every time i learn something new and feel the joy of new beginnings and new experiences wash over me.

i hope. and that is a powerful thing. it is a powerful thing to hope and to love and to believe. to hope for a better world. to love the world. to believe in the world.

a friend told me recently that i love and care for humanity fiercely and gently. and i think that's the root of it all. i don't just love my people, i love people. i love the human story, i believe in the human story, i have hope for our story.

it is powerful to love and believe and hope when you exist within a society that wants to beat you down. it is powerful to love and believe and hope when you are the "other" in the social order. it is powerful to love and believe and hope when you used to think you were not worthy of those things.

it's hard to love and to hope and to believe. but i have to, for my own survival. i have to allow myself to fall in love with the world. i have to allow myself to believe. i have to allow myself to hope. because for so long i didn't allow myself those things. and i think that is a powerful thing, that i can allow myself those things now.

#this ended up much longer than i'd intended #woops lol #i just love the world and the human story and art #love is powerful #hope is powerful #and don't let anyone tell you otherwise #love #radical hope #radical love #personal #musings on love #not good omens

[moonctzeny]

The Art of Seduction - The Rogue

pairing: coworker! yuta x female! reader (nct 127 series)

genre: smut, angst, fluff

word count: 4.6k

warnings: switch reader, dom yuta, finger sucking, fingering, squirting, choking, handjob, mentions of oral sex, dacryphilia, corruption kink, semi-public sex, sex toys, deception, manipulation

summary: “Though I fear neither God nor devil, when I am in (her) presence I am ready to tremble like a child, and (s)he could make me go through the eye of a needle to throw myself into the fire.”

The Rogues have lived the good life and experienced many pleasures. On the outside, they tend to seem cynical and jaded, but their worldliness often hides a sentimentality that they have struggled to repress. They have tamped down their own romantic tendencies for so long that when it bursts forth, they lose control.

The Art of Seduction Masterlist (series)

Taglist: @lilyliline21, @artgukk, @nicolemelton, @aaasteroidsky, @donutswithjaminthemiddle, @junkyuruto, @jwoos-colored, @aedreamzy, @blue-tyong, @ncteaxhoe, @cutejaeyunie, @jj-ms, @winxnct, @commentgirl, @jonecb-97, @resceluwu, @hyvnjinct, @marklee-hobi-cb97, @yyyyyooooohh, @lovejungwonie, @ahgastayzen, @got-sum-badhabits, @deobitiful, @ivoryyyy, @markable6, @cdellee, @exozenhoe, @meowniee, @nctloml, @ermahgerd101, @aqui-a, @neozhoen, @flower-lise, @blossom-rea, @pjnjzc, @jayla-lover, @smexosthetik, @nctlovesme, @kenzie-gifford, @bunnylover0193, @hyuckssimpclub, @syhznanny, @myeowmyeow, @popsuhcle, @sehunniepot, @bitchenderyy, @piaozhisheng, @b4y-b, @mynctlib, @brattybunforbts, @mariamaravilla, @sweetjaemss, @violetwinters, @haechanies-mommy, @kwoncheesecake, @ningningsworlds, @lighthyucks, @jenoxygen, @ryu-naa, @mushroomkwan, @revehosh, @lcveshotx, @multistan30, @constipation08, @painted-hills, @neomulucased, @jeongyunoenjoyer, @xsnelly, @hwangful, @secretlypg95, @soffsophia, @ahtisa02, @thejungjaehyun, @yincotton, @lilzmeowmeow, @if-i-like-i-reblog, @itsjustveryhard, @kaja2016, @jujusnogood, @minejungwoo, @k1llejoyss, @goingbananasoverpotassium, @rinasluvs, @nonnnimous​, @glassesandsnarkiness, @imagining-constantly, @bebskyy, @got-sum-badhabits, @xuxindaeyo, @jaeminsbebu, @milkyway-vxm, @multifandom127, @markswurld, @sluttoru, @ishireads, @mooondaily, @just-some-random-blogger, @spiderlilyfics, @kyungsooislifeu

<-PART 3

PART 4 - The Rogue

“Shit”, you mutter under your breath, phone pressed so closely to your ear it almost hurts. You can faintly hear the consecutive ‘beeps’ from the speaker, the loud club music covering most of the sound.

28 minutes. That’s all it took for your friend to ditch you. You should have seen it coming from the moment she suggested the night out, the celebration of the end of your exams coinciding with her and her boyfriend’s anniversary all too merrily. You barely managed to order a drink before they got their hands all over each other, and a quick trip to the bathroom was all the distraction they needed to successfully abandon you.

Reminded of the alcohol in your hands, you take a brave sip, shoving your phone in your purse defeatedly. While taking out your anger on the straw between your teeth, you admit that perhaps part of your frustration might be rooted in jealousy. When was the last time you were with a man? Your long count of months got interrupted by him.

The handsome stranger is slowly swinging his hips on the dancefloor, right across from you on the other side of the club. He pushes the long ringlets of hair that frame his face away from his forehead, stuck on his skin from the light sweat he worked up. A devious smirk adorned his face, and his eyes were so piercing that the receiver of his stare couldn’t have been clearer.

He was definitely staring at you. 

You gasp a little when you realize he’s moving towards you, quickly patting down any stray hairs to submission. You’ve always had trouble talking to men, hard to decipher even the horny, simple college boys in your major, let alone someone out of your league like that. The first thing you notice is that he’s dressed from head to toe in designer, the second being the array of piercings decorating his ears. Lastly, you make out a few smile lines on his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. Not that the stranger seemed more than a decade older than you.

“How come I’ve never seen you around here before?”

“Maybe you weren’t looking hard enough”, you answer him with the most nonchalant tone you could manage, playing with a loose thread on your skirt to stay sane.

His stare strips you bare as he moves it from the top of your head down to your heels, his tongue running through his bottom lip so fast you almost miss it.

“No”, he disagrees with a shake of his head, “I would remember”.

You try to shake off the heat on your face from the concealed compliment with a sip of your drink, realizing you’ve emptied it when the straw makes a jarring sound against the bottom of your glass.

“I’ll get you a new one”, he offers with the most gorgeous smile you’ve ever seen in your life, “Come join my table, I’m with the DJ.”

Normally, being alone in a club full of strangers would sound like a new level of Dante’s hell to you, the thought of just excusing yourself to a night of binge-watching your favorite show fleeting momentarily. Yet there’s something about Yuta, his magnetism, his rogueness, that has you following him across the dark club to sit next to his equally handsome and expensive-looking friends. 

The music doesn’t allow for very lengthy introductions, its loudness giving an excuse to Yuta to stick close to your side. He tells you he works as a computer engineer for some big company, whose name you don’t hear and don’t really care for. What you do care for is the woodiness of his cologne, and how cool his rings feel against your back. You care for the way he has you shoved against the DJ table, how he latches his lips on your neck, trailing kisses down your raging pulse. How he whispers in your ear that he never does that usually but you’ve driven him crazy and he wants you now. The hardness against your thigh proving that all too well.

The drive to his place is all hands and sloppy kisses and fingers toying with the hem of your underwear. He tells his personal driver to roll up the partition of his fancy car and you feel like the main actress of an adventure film for a second. Naively, you let yourself get carried away by him, forcing your intrusive thoughts to the back of your head. It’s not like you to go home with a stranger. It’s not like you to fuck on the same night you met. But being like you hasn’t been doing much for you anyway.

His lips are on you again the moment he closes the front door of his penthouse. Your fingers tangle through his long hair as you kiss, whimpering when he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth. Tugging at his locks, you admire his pretty face once more, almost jealous at how much your lipstick suits him. Lithe fingers find their way under your skirt once more, the pad of his thumb swiping over your clothed clit. He groans at your wetness and you mewl at the touch, creating a symphony of moans.

Getting impatient now, you let him roll your underwear past your thighs,  and you kick them off along with your heels. Stumbling your way across, you reach a large couch in the middle of the big living room, unceremoniously falling on his lap, your naked pussy rubbing against his leather pants. A big palm brushes along your breasts, passing your navel and reaching your heat. The slow circles he draws over your folds make everything surrounding you spin. 

“So wet for me already”, he comments, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your left boob. His middle finger pushes through your entrance, dragging against your fluttering walls, and you bite your cheek to hide how long it’s been since you last had someone else inside you. Busying your fingers with the buttons of his shirt, focusing on the task not to cum embarrassingly fast, you only come across a sight that makes you ever wetter, if that was even possible. Yuta’s toned stomach, paired with a pretty butterfly tattoo and a surprising piercing decorating his navel.

“Take a picture, it will last longer”, he jokes, and you grind your hips to wipe that teasing smirk off his face. It works, with the friction sparking a new fire in his lower abdomen.

He removes your top so swiftly you think he must have ripped it, your bra joining the garment on his floor a second later. His hands travel all around the expanse of your naked torso, tracing your ribs and following the curve of your waist, to then squeeze both of your boobs. The dull haziness from the alcohol in your bloodstream doesn’t allow you to get embarrassed at how exposed you are in front of him now, too busy trying to unbutton his pants to get what you really want.

The strong hands that pin your wrists on the sides of your thighs startle you.

“Eager, aren’t you?”

“Yeah”, you sigh, leaning forwards in your containment until your lips find the lines that separate his abs, your tongue tasting his salty skin. Eyes never leaving his, eyelashes fluttering seductively. You feel a growl resonating from deep in his chest, his fingers loosening from around your wrists as he gets distracted.

 Unzipping his pants finally, you let your warm palm apply pressure over his length. Fully hard now, you feel him twitching in your hold.

“Look what you did to me”, he tells you, emphasizing his words with a thrust. You stare entranced as he takes his dick out finally, red tip begging for attention.

“I’ll make it worse.”

Licking the inside of your palm, you rub the soft skin over the head of his cock, dragging your index over his slit. The profanities he spews out urge you to repeat the motion, and the control you have over him is intoxicating.

Well, for as long as you have it, that is.

With a swift motion, he reaches out to grab your jaw, careful so as not to hurt you. Not a single word came out of his mouth yet you got his message loud and clear, removing your hands from his sensitive cock and patiently waiting for his next move.

Reaching out for his back pocket, he fishes out a - conveniently easily accessible - condom, wrapping it around himself with ease. You’re still sitting in place on his thighs, unmoved, partially out of spite and partially because you want him to tell you exactly what he wants.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you gonna sit on it?”

“Only if you say the magic word.”

Yuta chuckles at your nerve, pulling you down for a kiss. His tongue dances over your lips, chasing your taste, and he doesn’t back away even as he whispers:

“Can I fuck you open with my hands around your neck, pretty please?”

You can only moan at the question, shivering as you feel him wrap his fingers around your neck. You let him lead your body upwards and hover over his cock, gasping loudly as you let your wetness and gravity do the rest.

“Ah, fuck”, he groans as he bottoms out inside you, your walls sucking him in. The fit is tight, so you circle around his base to get accustomed to the length, rubbing your clit in the movement.

A long moan gets drawn out of you as he starts to bounce you on his lap, realizing how much you’ve missed the feeling of being so, so full. Your brain is fuzzy from the pleasure, breathing heavily through the pain in your thighs. 

“So pretty. Getting fucked with just your skirt on.”

“More like I fuck you with my skirt on”, you snap back, your voice trying to be stable through the pressure on your throat. “You’re not really doing much.”

“Oh?”, he asks incredulously, withdrawing his hands from your body and intertwining his fingers behind his head. “You want me to do something?”

“I want you to fuck me open like you said you would.”

“As you wish.”

You’re not sure when he managed to flip you around like that, your stomach now laying against the cool leather of his couch. He has you trapped under his weight, your thighs closed and between his own. You can’t really see him, only feel the weight of his member as he lays it over your skirt. 

You can’t contain the high-pitched yelp that escapes you when he thrusts inside you again.

“Yuta- Fuck.”

“Hm?”, he asks you to repeat, collecting your hair around his fist in a makeshift ponytail. He reaches down, laying over you, his cheek touching your wet one. “What is it?”

“It’s so much.”

“You were begging for it just a second ago”, he reminds you, his sweet voice contradicting the brutal snap of his hips. “You don’t like it?”

“I do”, you admit, your voice muffled by the couch’s cushion. Unsatisfied with your enunciation, he pulls at your ponytail lightly, separating your lips from the leather. 

“Speak up.”

“I said I like it, don’t stop! Please-”

You wanted to warn him of your impending orgasm, yet your tightening muscles already do that all too well. It takes a few more thrusts before you feel yourself cumming around him, stars of pleasure overtaking your vision. You look so pretty all gone, shaking from under him, that Yuta spills in the condom mere seconds later. The few last movements of his hips almost send you to the floor.

His elbows keep him from collapsing on top of you, kissing the salty skin of your shoulders until his heart beats steadily again. He scurries off to the kitchen, discarding the used condom, before fetching you a clean towel from his bedroom. The light sweat he has worked up intensifies his perfume even more, and you melt against the scent as he pulls you onto his lap again.

Yuta’s hands find their way between the locks of your hair, gently massaging your nape. A long sigh leaves your lips and the man chuckles, flashing you his big smile once again.

“Satisfied?”

“Very”, you answer truthfully, ending your one-word response with a yawn. “Yuta?”

“Yes, love?”

“Can I stay over tonight?”

You were too tired to hear the hesitance in his voice, too blissed out from your orgasm to notice him taking a second too long to answer.

“Of course. How about I treat you to lunch tomorrow? I know we didn’t get to talk a lot.”

You giggle at the insinuation, wrapping your hands around his shoulders in adoration. For your first ‘sleeping with a stranger’, this was going very well. There was something disarming about Yuta, even beyond the deep pull of sexual attraction. Something that left you no choice but to trust him.

Your eyelids futilely fight to stay open, your sleepiness getting the best of you. You barely manage to respond to him before letting your subconscious mind take over.

“I’d love that.”

.

.

.

You have no idea what time it is when you finally wake up.

Your brain barely registers the change in environment through the pounding headache, cursing at the abundance of light the large windows let inside the strange bedroom. Scattered memories of last night flash like a film strip in your head, each sending an electric wave of pain. The last thing you remember is collapsing on top of a half-naked Yuta after fucking on his leather couch. 

Curiously, you check what clothing is still left on you under the velvet sheets, finding your upper body covered with a t-shirt you’ve never seen before. With a sigh of relief, you find your phone on the bedside table, along with a painkiller and last night's outfit. 

“This place looks fancy”, you think to yourself, and wonder where the hell your date has been all this time. A pang of hunger has you thinking of what kind of lunch you should let your (richer than you thought) date treat you with, excited to have him follow up on his promise. That’s when you notice a ripped white page, folded neatly on his side of the bed. 

It looks like it came from a notebook provided by the company he works for, with a “Suh Enterprises” logo printed on the very top. No phone number, no lunch plan, no second date. The messily scribbled note makes your heart fall to your stomach.

“Housekeeping will let you out.”

The low buzzing between your legs makes you shift your weight to Yuta for support, your fingers intertwined as you walk past the array of paintings. 

The art aficionado has wanted to take you on this exhibition since its opening day, since you shyly called him in your office for an annoying bug in your computer. The CTO had no business doing IT support for new employees and you knew damn well, as well as you knew that, the little problem that you caused for your machine yourself after a quick “how to” googling, did not take 45 minutes to fix. You had a feeling the short dress you had chosen that day had something to do with it.

You weren’t surprised that he introduced himself to you all over again, years later.

He doesn’t even remember that girl he slept with at the club. Nor do I resemble her at all.

That was the plan, after all. Wasn’t it? Your hair was different, and so was your clothing. But most importantly, the way you acted was unrecognizable. The sweetness with which you looked up at the eager engineer, a mix of innocence and admiration dripping from your pupils, had nothing to do with the faux confidence you exuded on your first meet. Now you know that a rogue and a rogue can never coexist. And you’ll do whatever it takes to fit him just right.

He remembers when he drove you to your place after the first date you had together, how he couldn’t stop staring ar your lips. How good it felt when he pushed his fingers between them and your tongue swirled around him. Cock throbbing in his underwear after you told him with teary eyes that “you weren’t that experienced but you wanted to try things out with him”.

He fucked you thoroughly into your mattress that night, blood pumping to his cock even now as he recalls how you looked with your makeup all smeared-up. Yuta was well aware of his talent in the bedroom, he wasn’t surprised that he made you cum on his face, around his rings, on his sex. What did surprise him was that he held you tightly that night, not because you asked but because he wanted to. That he stared at you sleeping peacefully that morning, waited patiently for you to wake up. He begged you to spend the entire day with him, to let him treat you to breakfast, then lunch, then dinner, then drinks.

Your meetups went on for weeks. Yuta didn’t like to be gossiped so he asked you to keep your relationship on the low, and you had to pretend to think about it before agreeing. You slowly saw him give up on trying to conceal his feelings, the little gifts he offered you giving him away. A matching ring, your favorite candy, that book you couldn’t put down at the bookstore. 

The last gift he gave you, however, wasn’t as wholesome as the rest. In fact, it was currently buzzing inside you.

You squeeze your thighs to alleviate some of the pulsing, tripping a little after your date presses a button on the remote control in his pocket. 

“Isn’t this painting beautiful?”, he asks and you can hear the smirk on his face, squeezing his available palm.

“Mmm.”

That’s all you can muster as you feel your vision getting cloudy from pleasure, your orgasm being edged out of your reach by the little silicon bullet at least a dozen times now. Squirming in silence as you walk through the hallways, trying your hardest not to attract attention. You were now getting to the end of the exhibition, and you ask Yuta if he can accompany you to the ladies room; you don’t feel that well.

As if the universe was working in your favor, you find the bathroom to be empty, quickly hurrying your boyfriend inside before locking the small room. 

He has you pinned against the door almost immediately, and you hump your lower body against his, desperately searching for your high. Big doe eyes stare back at him, pleading. 

“You’ve been a good girl, right doll?”

Nodding furiously, you whimper in the hollow of his neck.

“Yes!”

His hand moves slowly up your thighs, gripping the soft flesh, to finally dip two fingers underneath your underwear. Your head falls back as you finally get what you want, each circle that his digits draw feeling more delicious than the last.

“And you know what good girls get?”

You beg whatever God is out there that the answer is something close to an orgasm, blinking away a few tears from your unfocused eyes. As he picks up his pace, you grab onto his shirt so as not to crumble, the vibrations with the teasing of your clit proving too much. 

Wetness drips down your thigh as you finally cum, your moans getting drowned in the kiss you share. Another aftershock hits you only a moment later, as he continues to rub your pussy, and you swear you can’t possibly leave this restroom standing.

“Good girls get used.”

Letting yourself get led by him, you find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror, over the sink. Your wrists hurt as he fucks your brains out under the fluorescent light, witnessing your face contort into the lewdest of expressions. 

His lips on the shell of your ear, his hands on your love handles. Your moans turning the mirror glass foggy. These are the last things you remember before cumming for him for the third time. 

For you, sex with him felt like a little treat before you get your big win, still a long way to go.

For Yuta? He might even be falling in love.

The pair were just finishing up their food, focusing on all kinds of different topics but the elephant in the room. Mark rested his chopsticks on the side of his plate, wiping the corners of his mouth as they tugged up in a smile. Yuta was waiting for his comment expectantly.

“So, are you gonna tell me who that woman that has turned your life upside down is?”

The younger man wasn’t a stranger to the CTO’s office, their unexpected friendship growing stronger and stronger over the years. Yuta’s urge to tease the uptight HR manager at every given chance brought the two of them closer, even if they seemed to lead entirely different lives. Mark was some kind of moral anchor to Yuta, and the former felt normal as ever compared to his friend’s chaotic habits.

“Is it that obvious?”

“You always had a nice smile, Nakamoto, but now it looks like someone sewed it to your face.”

Yuta let his head drop forward, defeated. “Have you ever fallen in love, Mark?”

The younger swallows dryly, nodding his head absentmindedly. To much of his surprise, the first woman that came to mind wasn’t his ex-wife.

“Yes.”

“It’s not like me to act this way, you know? To think about someone constantly, to be anxious when they’re gone, to be worried about them.”

“I never thought I’d hear those words coming out of your mouth.”

“Me neither”, Yuta acknowledges, downing the last sip of his beer, “It started off with just sex but now… I’m not like you, Mark. I fear no God, nor devil- but when I’m in her presence I’m ready to tremble like a child, to be vulnerable. She could make me go through the eye of a needle. Throw myself into the fire.”

“It’s dangerous to love a woman that much”, Mark muses, much more to himself than to his friend. They were both deeply engrossed in their thoughts when the knock on the door made them jump in their seats.

“Come in.”

Your eyes widen instinctively as you open the door. In mute disbelief, you stare at the bizarre pair sitting on each side of Yuta’s desk. The dirty food containers and empty beer cans puzzle you even more. They had lunch together?! What on earth could those two possibly talk about? If Yuta had an alter ego that would certainly be Mark: a rogue that has exhausted his carnality, and a prude that agonizingly lets it consume him. Then again, Yuta did have an attraction to innocence. You wonder if he’d be as affined to Mark if he knew his true self. You also wonder how much he’d recoil at yours.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Nakamoto?”, you ask naturally, your acting skills a little too good.

“Ah, yes Doll, we were just finishing up here.”

Mark got up from his seat slowly, fixing his eyes on anything but you. He didn’t trust his acting skills enough to convince his closest friend, so completely ignoring your existence seemed like the next best thing. Only when he passed by you did you see a crack in the mask; hands twitching awkwardly in his side, begging for a touch. 

Did he have a weird pang in his stomach when he saw you enter Yuta’s office? Did it remind him of his wife and his old best friend for some weird reason? You wondered, but you couldn’t know. With a shaken breath out and a nod of goodbye he exits the office, and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

Before Yuta crashes his lips on yours.

You take a few steps backward from the momentum of the kiss, placing your palm on the side of his face a second later. Your lower back finds the edge of the desk and you let your body rest against it, moaning softly as he deepens the kiss. His lips press against yours harder, with hunger, yet your other hand lightly pushes him away from you, to much of his disappointment.

“Yuta?”

“Yes, love?”

“I feel really bad for asking-“, you start, filling up your lungs with fresh air before resuming, “but I need a favor.”

“Anything.”

With a shy smile you back away from his embrace, sitting where Mark was just a few moments ago. The man follows your lead, sitting across from you, the wrinkles between his eyebrows telling of his nerves.

“I need you to find me a new apartment to live in.”

Yuta laughs nervously from the dissipation of his anxiety, maybe disregarding your clouded expression a bit too much.

“That’s it? Honey, I’ve told you countless times that you can stay at my place for as long as you-“

“It’s not it-“, you cut him off, and the tone of your voice wipes out the smile off his face just as quickly as it had appeared. “I’m moving. From out of town. Across the country, really.”

Raising the heels of his palms to his eyes, he tries to rub away the whiplash.

“Doll, what?”, Yuta snaps back, finally realizing the weight of the situation. “Why would you do that?”

“Because they’re firing me!”, you respond, exasperated, voice cracking from the emotion, “I’m looking for other jobs and that one company gave me a really good offer and…”

The man stays silent, shoulders vibrating angrily.

“I’m not sure that they’re firing me”, you explain quickly, “As in, they haven’t explicitly told me they will but I just know it, baby, I know it! I’ve had to train this intern and my numbers have not been good because of it… Even Doyoung came to my office and told me off about it… I don’t want to move out, I don’t wanna leave you! But you know that I need this money, baby…”

Yuta nods his head slowly, his lips forming a straight line.

“No, you’re not.”

“I wish things were different too, but-“

“They can.”

You tilt your head in question.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“Come here”, he tells you with a paradoxical calmness, and motions at you to sit on his lap.

Tentatively, you oblige, hoping he doesn’t get any surprise visitors, and let him play with your hair as he talks.

“First of all, you have to promise me you aren’t going to talk about this to anybody.”

“Baby, what is it? Don’t you trust me?”

“Completely. But what I’m about to tell you, you can’t share with anybody else here. Got it?”

You simply nod, giving your most honest look.

“I have access to everybody’s performance numbers in this office”, he whispers, “And I know how to edit them without anyone finding out.”

“Are you suggesting-?”

“I know what I’m saying scares you. But if I can pump up your numbers a little, just enough to get you to stay, I will, Doll.” He takes your hand in his carefully, as if you were made out of porcelain, and places a kiss on the back of your palm. “I need you here. No one is even going to notice. And if they do, I can just blame the system. Please.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment, rubbing your forehead for good measure. After letting out a sigh of defeat, you flash him a bittersweet smile.

“Okay. But only if you promise me you don’t get in trouble.”

“I won’t”, he reassures you, not sure how much it is to his power to fulfill that promise. As he pulls you in for a long hug, he hopes you don’t notice him patting away a few tears that have collected on the corners of his eyes. “As long as I don’t lose you.”

did you like the fourth part of the series?

let me know here if you want to be part of The Art of Seduction taglist to not miss what happens next if you haven’t already!

#neohub #neowritingsnet #yuta smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #yuta x reader #yuta x y/n #yuta angst #yuta imagines #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct fic #nct fanfic #yuta fanfic #nct au #nct 127 #nct fluff #yuta fluff #yuta scenarios

[seasideoranges]

❤: Which character do you think is the most egregiously mischaracterized by the fandom?

❤: Which character do you think is the most egregiously mischaracterized by the fandom?

Ask Game! OKAY SO I know this is asking for one specific character, buuuut I'm going to go through more than one character haha. To start;

Toph!

I was just talking about Toph in a server a couple of days ago, and I feel like people mischaracterize her a lot, but I kinda don't blame them! Toph is kind of a tricky character to write! But I read so many fics that just boil her down to "tough girl who doesn't take shit and bullies everyone" and like, yes, there is some truth to that, but she is also so much more! She's soft, she listens, she's genuinely a kind, good friend, despite her rough demeanor! There's a reason Sokka opens up for the first time about his mother with Toph.

Azula!

I adore Azula to bits, I love her, I want to see her get better and get another chance, but man, I hate how people lately have been woobifying the crap out of her lately (this happens to Iroh and Zuko too!!). I seen an argument on TikTok that Azula had a right to mortally wound Aang because it was SELF DEFENSE?! I thought OP was joking, but uh, nope, they were completely serious haha. You can't say you love 'problematic' characters only to try and make them 'unproblematic' as possible!

Aang!

I noticed that there's some people that hate Aang with a passion, so much so, that they'll try to paint him out as this sexist, abusive person/partner/father, and it bugs the hell out of me. Kind of makes me laugh a little too, seeing how powerful the haterism is towards this fictional 12 year old boy. This discourse especially gets worse when TLOK gets thrown into the mix and people try to paint him as a 'deadbeat' father, and some even try to compare him to Ozai?? It grosses me out, and the 'deadbeat' part is far from the truth! Words have meaning and weight to them, people!

Sokka!

Had to throw my fav in here of course. Here's the thing, people will either characterize Sokka as being nothing more than a dumb jokester, or they'll acknowledge that he's smart, but completely forget that he's incredibly grump, sarcastic, and skeptical which can lead him to be borderline cynical, especially in S1! There's also the whole "Sokka didn't really love his mom" discourse and, not to sound dramatic, but it makes me want to rip my hair out LMAO. I personally think that Sokka is one of the most interesting characters in ATLA and it kinda sucks seeing people gloss over him so much.

URSA!

Now this might be my most controversial take lmao. Before I start, I'm not saying Ursa was a perfect parent, and I wont be talking about the comics in this part, just strictly the show. But at this point, I almost feel like an Ursa defender because people greatly misinterpret her character and try to paint her to be just as bad as Ozai, especially when Azula is thrown into the mix. I'm sorry y'all, but I don't agree with the "Ursa was a 'boy' mom and favorited Zuko and abused Azula" takes. I don't think this was the case at all, and her relationship with Azula is so much more complex than that. People tend to forget that A) This was all Ozai's doing, he saw Azula as a weapon and put a wedge between her and the rest of her family (specifically Zuko and Ursa) and B) Ursa was also abused. She was an abused woman, trapped in a horrible situation, and wasn't left with a lot of great options or freedom.

Anyways I could talk about this all day with pretty much the rest of the Gaang, but I'll try and keep this from getting too long haha! AND AS ALWAYS, I don't want any discourse! I am always open for discussion! I love reading other peoples takes and I am always willing to change my views!

#putting that last part because #i know discussions around ursa tend to be... heated haha #ask game #atla #im sure ppl will be chill about this but if for some reason this gets out of hand i might turn off reblogs for this haha

[artbyblastweave]

Gideon The Ninth Liveread, Chapter 5

Gonna add some disclaimers here (if I haven’t already? I forget) that a lot of my predictions are at least partially going to be polluted by stuff I picked up via tumblr osmosis; I’m getting nice “oh, snap” moments from time to time but most likely not when the Author intended that I would. Here we go:

We open with a nice, domestic scene of mutual domestic hatred. Kind of interesting that apparently, they are capable of coexisting in a living space if necessary; you could infer that, because they can’t have been in a state of violent cartoonish warfare all the time, there are situations where they’d have to be off the clock, but there is this fun tension to the whole sequence, like those looney tunes gags where the wolf and sheepdog both clock in before starting to fight.

(also there’s a kind of. Homerotic face painting scene. reminds me of that one meme.)

I like the attention paid to the gross nitty-gritty of actually applying the badass war paint. I've done full-scale zombie paint on myself and that stuff looks cool and sucks ass, respectively.

Thanergy! This is I think the first big indicator we’ve gotten of how necromancy works mechanistically, and it implies a handful of nasty things:

Harrow is likely disproportionately powerful because most of the Ninth house is dead or headed that way; her power is inseparable from the collapse she’s (fruitlessly?) attempting to stave off. (I sense a prompt for a worm trigger event lurking in here somewhere.)

The Empire likely requires a continuous death mill for necromancy to be as culturally and logistically ubiquitous as it is; I suspect this setting has something like the flower wars going on, endless expansion where death is the natural resource being extracted.

First House, if it’s first but also has almost no one on it, may have been the site of a mass casualty event or depopulation, thus rendering it an ideal meeting ground for necromancers.

Side note: Thanergy is a very Homestuck kind of Portmanteu (complementary.)

So this is a Con- there’s no Ortus, there never was an Ortus, Gideon has always been the Cavalier, we’ve always been at war with Eastasia. Harrow expresses concern that her inability to control Gideon will convey to the other houses that The Ninth was unable to control Gideon- and that’s an appropriate fear, because they’re one and the same. Going full Sun king “I-am-the-state” is a double edged sword.

Side note: this whole set-up seems massively transmittable to fake-dating AUs, Regency Pride-and-Prejudice AUs, et al et al. Wouldn’t be surprised if the Author did so deliberately (and this is one of the few times this is not meant to be a remotely cynical assessment, I think this slaps.)

“When I’m a Lyctor, everything will be different-“  Oh, Okay, So Harrow is Taylor Hebert except textually a lesbian instead of by fandom consensus, and with more aggressive religious trauma. “When I take over the city, I can fix things!“ Want to get those two in a room and see who eats who first. Also, does Harrow have a reason to want to bolster the sinking ship that is Ninth House, or is she just fully inculcated on that as The Thing To Do?

So here we get some more detail that the Ninth (read: Harrow) has been isolating itself on purpose; the collapse makes a bit more sense when you realize that the group has been putting up a front while rotting from the inside out. Unless I’ve got the timeline wrong, and this is something Harrow’s parents started that she just continued, This marks a pretty specific harm that Harrow specifically has caused Gideon; there used to be strangers Gideon had to be dragged away from. There used to be outsiders. There used to be the faintest hope of outside intervention.

I get the sense that when, of course, this all ends very, very badly, I’ll be pining for the AU where all that happened was Ortus reading poetry over the still brawling corpses of Harrow and Gideon.

Anyway, to close things out, this strikes me as the kind of book and author where I need to keep that bone-meal-chestburster trick Harrow floated in the back of my mind, waiting for the moment where it rears its ugly head.

#gideon the ninth #gideon the ninth liveread #blastweave livereads #the locked tomb #tlt #gideon nav #harrowhawk nonagesimus #the locked tomb spoilers #the locked tomb liveread #thoughts #meta

[sodiumlamp]

Lower Decks

I'm not gonna liveblog Lower Decks because I only liveblogged Picard to maintain my sanity as I endured it. It was more of a defense mechanism than a plan. The only reason I bring up LD is because I wanted to end the Picard thing on a more positive note. Lower Decks is a much better show, and I dare say watching Picard first made me enjoy the experience even more.

It's a comedic take on Star Trek, and the show could be forgiven for playing fast and loose with the premise, but it doesn't. Lower Decks feels like a very authentic Star Trek expereince, but it just has a comedic flavor to it.

It also does a whole lot of callbacks to old Star Trek lore. The difference is that LD isn't depending on the viewer to get all the callbacks. If you don't notice or recognize Spock Two's skeleton hanging in that display room on the collector's ship, it doesn't matter, because the plot doesn't hinge on it. LD also doesn't pull the Picard trick of making callbacks as an end unto itself, like Adam Soong holding a folder entitled "PROJECT KHAN" and nothing happens. Lower Decks has some running subplots, but it's very clear to its audience about which moments are clues and which moments are fun easter eggs.

Most critically, Lower Decks maintains the optimism of the classic 20th Century Star Trek shows. You watch an episode, and things usually work out by the end of it. More importantly, when people lose faith in the world they live in, there's some moment where that faith is restored. Starfleet stands for something and it's not just empty slogans or cynical public relations. It's not all sunshine and rainbows, but there's a light at the end of the tunnel and the characters generally find it. Except for Peanut Hamper. Fuck you, Peanut Hamper.

The fundamental conflict in the show is that these are all good people who strive to be better, to do better, and they tend to get in each other's way as they try to improve. Mariner defies her superiors because they doesn't always know best, but sometimes her superiors do know best. Boimler (and other characters) crave promotion and recognition, but he sometimes has to take a step back and consider why he wants those things. There's an episode where he joins a group of ambitious ensigns and they practice making inspiring leadership speeches, but he eventually realizes that it's a skill he can't use in the here and now. "We have to inspire the crew!" "We are the crew!"

The show demonstrates just how badly Picard fumbled the ball with its "everything sucks now" philosophy. In theory, you can do a utopia-gone-wrong story with Star Trek, but there needs to be a clear understanding of what went wrong and how it gets fixed. You can't just make a Star Trek story that flat out repudiates the optimistic future. You can just have the characters say "Whoops, that never worked!" That'd be like Batman deciding that crime is actually pretty cool. Shows like Picard try to convince the audience that the only way to tell a story is to break everything and make it miserable. Lower Decks proves that's a lie told by lazy showrunners who only know how to pull one lever.

Part of the problem, I think, is that these studios keep trying to do big events, relying on spectacle over storytelling. That's why Picard Season 2 had to climax with Picard's mother hanging herself. It has to be this big provocative moment, regardless of whether it makes sense or fits the characters. Picard has prophetic dreams of Data, the exploding girl looks just like the one from the old painting, it was the Borg the whole time, and by golly there sure are a lot of decapitations in this show.

By contrast, one of the most powerful moments on Lower Decks is when Captain Freeman finally gets fed up with Mariner and has her transferred to Starbase 80. It's not a big, apocalyptic moment that will Change The Marvel Universe Forever™, but it's effective, because the show took the time to establish that Starbase 80 is the worst assignment in Starfleet, and it's the one punishment Mariner takes seriously, and Freeman must be really upset if she's decided to take it that far. And then later, she regrets her decision, and when things work out in the end, their reconciliation is that much more satisfying. It just works. Not everything has to be a swordfight in a Borg Cube, for crying out loud.

I haven't watched Season 4 yet, but I'm really looking forward to seeing the new Vulcan character, T'Lyn on the show. Now we have two blueshirts in the cast. And they're not doctors or nurses! Nothing against doctors or nurses, but there's a severe lack of science division characters in Star Trek, and that screenshot of two of them doing something involving hydrogen samples is more exciting than a hundred Jack Crushers. I hope they do a whole episode about hydrogen samples. That would kick ass.

#mike watches picard #sheer fucking hubris #fuck you peanut hamper #you can't study hydrogen samples you betrayed your uniform!

[hellcheer-heaven]

You’ve Got a Friend in Me

Chrissy can’t help but stare at the Build-A-Bear Workshop whenever she and Eddie pass by it at Starcourt Mall. This gives Eddie a little idea.

Bearded Eddie edit was created by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Link to post here

Like any giant mega mall in the US, Starcourt had received a new face lift. From paint jobs, trendy stores, and a play area for small children to run around and blow off their steam before inevitably slipping off of a climbing structure; Starcourt Mall was the place to be for families, tweens, and teens. As for the adults with no kids, well a fair amount of the mall still had the spirit of the 80s still in tact. Jazzercise was still around, Spencer’s was still selling their usual novelty items with the back area still receiving an influx of adults only merchandise, and Scoops Ahoy was all the rage with new flavors coming in every couple of months. More kid friendly places were included to appeal to the ever growing population of young children in Hawkins; Build-A-Bear Workshop was certainly no exception. Lines were formed each day the moment that store hit the mall, it was the place to be to make a best friend that you can cherish for the rest of your life. That is if said child didn’t end up leaving it at a park or giving it away because they were “too old” to have stuffed animals anymore. Still that didn’t stop the grown up children to stop and take a peak through the windows to see what it was like inside.

Any time Chrissy and Eddie took a trip to the mall, she often kept her eyes on the establishment whenever they passed by. The giant brown bear sporting its tutu, holding up its sewing needle, and hat thimble appeared so inviting. The little lopsided smile always plastered across its face as if it were saying to come over and play. She felt an unusual sense of joy whenever they walked by, but then urged herself to look away. She hoped that Eddie didn’t notice the way her blue eyes sparkled with child like curiosity, but she forgets that even his cynical eyes could recognize unambiguous love.

Chrissy absentmindedly stirred the ketchup in the little white container, sighing softly through her nostrils.

He looked up at her after taking another sip of his lemonade, clearing his throat, “Something on your mind sweetheart?”

Her hand continued to move the condiment, “Hmm? What’d you say?”

He chuckled, “Well I mean you’ve been stirring the ketchup for a good five minutes now. I figured you should probably eat that fry before it gets soggy.”

Chrissy shrugged and took a bite, resting her chin on her palm, “So, where do you want to go next?”

He could tell her, but maybe it was better if she answered first, “Well maybe we could try a store we haven’t gone to yet?”

Her brow rose as she thought for a moment, “So… you want to check out Hot Topic?”

He was offended, “What?! No way.”

She rolled her eyes with a smirk, “Had a little change of heart big boy?”

“Chrissy I’d rather be dead than go to Hot Topic!”

Her smirk was still there, “Eddie you’re not even goth. Why do you care so much?” She realized her mistake, quickly placing her finger on his lip, “Actually don’t answer that, because the last thing I need is a speech about how it’s not ‘real goth’ or something. Right?”

His defeated expression was enough of an indication that she knew him all too well. She may be sweet, but she could be a little smug especially when she was right about something.

“Okay, let me rephrase my question: Is there a place here that you’ve had your eye on?”

She gulped, he doesn’t know does her? He simply wouldn’t know about her intention of visiting the workshop. Chrissy did that little action where she sucked her lips in and looked away whenever she felt nervous.

She popped them free“I… I don’t know.”

He leaned in, allowing himself to fall into the role of a private detective, “You sure? There isn’t any place in particular? Anything having to do with something… customizable?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stated bluntly.

Okay forget private detective, might as well just confront the matter. “Chrissy, do you want to go to Build-A-Bear?”

Her eyes widened, although it wasn’t out of excitement, “What? No! That place is for kids! I’m not going in there.”

Eddie titled his head, “Mmm, no I’m pretty sure you do want to go.” He held up his hand, “Hold on, ‘bear’ with me on this.” He was awfully proud of that one, “I’ve seen the way you look at that place when we come to Starcourt. You look so interested and I thought maybe we could check it out.”

Her heart rate started to rise, “Eddie we can’t.”

“Why not?”

She had to think and fast, “Because we just can’t.”

He couldn’t fathom that reasoning, “We can’t or we won’t?”

Her eyes began to dart around, were people watching them? Did they hear them?, “Eddie, please let’s not fight.”

Eddie reached over and held her hands, speaking sweetly to her with a gentle smile across his face, “Baby, we’re not fighting. It’s okay, everything’s alright.”

She looked away, “Can we go please?”

He pecked her knuckles, “Very well.”

Chrissy stood up and held herself, “I’m sorry, I just… I want…”

Eddie cradled her shaking form, a loving kiss to her forehead helped to quell a little bit of her anxiousness, “It’s okay, let’s just go home and relax.”

She looked up at him with sadness behind those sky colored irises, “I’m sorry, I know you wanted to get new jeans and I just ruined the day for you.”

Another kiss to her forehead and then one upon the tip of her nose, “No babe, it’s okay. Not the end of world that I didn’t get my jeans today. There’s always next time. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Eddie felt bad for questioning her like that. To him it was a regular conversation, to Chrissy it felt like an interrogation. She had some difficulty distinguishing whether Eddie was being serious, joking, or just playfully teasing her. All those years of being under Laura’s iron thumb made typical interactions feel like threats to her. She tried her best in her childhood and adolescence to just simply smile and take it. Being with Eddie allowed for her to express whatever she was feeling. It wasn’t always easy, she would experience uncomfortable sensations at the pit of her stomach, an increased heart beat, chills running up her spine, and shortness of breath. Eddie was her biggest supporter and would offer her whatever she needed when she felt distressed. Sometimes the best options involved finding a new place to breath or leaving the area altogether. Chrissy was grateful for his love and assistance, but she often felt guilty for departing. This wasn’t the first time either. Their first Christmas together at the Harrington household caused her to feel out of place and they stayed for about an hour before Chrissy made up an excuse about feeling queasy. When they went to the community pool and she felt self conscious about wearing a bikini for the first time in her life. When they rented a movie that dealt with strong subject matters, he stopped the tape and cuddled with her under a blanket. Chrissy blamed herself for being too sensitive, often calling herself “stupid” or a “big baby.” Well she wasn’t, she was in touch with her emotions and sometimes she needed that bit of extra support from the ones that cared for her.

Another week passed and the two of them made it their plan to drop by the mall to grab his jeans, window shop, and maybe even check out the latest drama film that was all the rage according to top film critics. They were there a bit early, one of the first groups of people to wait in line before the place opened. They recognized a few familiar faces here and there, said their hellos, and resumed practicing patient until it was time to step in.

Eddie leaned in closer and whispered, “Chrissy, I was thinking that we could make a quick stop somewhere before we get my stuff. Is that alright?”

She nodded, “Yeah sure. Where do you want to go?”

He popped his lips, unable to hold back his mischievous grin, “Well I heard that supposedly a new store opened.”

She cocked her head, “Already? That’s weird, I didn’t hear anything about it.”

“Well, it’s kind of new. I heard it’s pretty popular actually.”

She jokingly quipped, “Since when do you care about popularity Eddie?”

He chuckled as he crossed his tatted arms, “Well I figured I could make just one exception. Just for today.”

The floodgates opened and everyone poured into the vicinity, ready to spend their time and money on everything that the mall had to offer. As for Eddie his mind and money were set on something much more special for his one and only. As they drew closer, he whispered to Chrissy to close her eyes. Christmas wasn’t going to be for months and her birthday had already passed, but either way she was a sucker for surprises. How is it that Eddie had eyes behind those long locks of chocolate curls was beyond her, but somehow he managed to remind her to keep them closed. What was his plan?

His gentle voice spooked her, but still she kept her sight in darkness, “Ok, we’re here. Go ahead and open your eyes.”

Her vision was bombarded in a sea of bright colors, fluffy coats, beaded eyes, and little outfits. Small children and their families basked in the wonderful warmth of plush and promises as the little ones eagerly waited for their chance to pick a lifelong friend. Most people would be excited to step in, Chrissy wasn’t feeling very good about being here.

Her worried eyes went to him, “Eddie, why are we here?”

He didn’t have a care in the world, “Surprise Chrissy!”

She held his hand, body turning and ready to march out, “No, no we can’t be here. Please we need to leave-”

He freed himself, his tone shifting from fun to concerned, “Chrissy what’s bothering you?”

She was losing her patience, but she didn’t want to yell, at least not in the store, “Nothing is bothering me.”

He held her shoulders, “Chrissy, please tell me what’s wrong.”

She heavily sighed through her nostrils, standing on her tip toes to whisper in his ear, “Okay, but not in here. Over there at the bench, then I’ll tell you.” Chrissy felt bad again, but maybe it was time to say something, as silly as it may have seemed. Well maybe silly wasn’t the right term, bothersome was more like it. “Eddie, I know this is going to sound crazy, and it probably is.” She looked down at her hands before meeting his eyes, “I really do want a stuffed animal, it’s just… I… I feel… weird about going into a toy store.”

“Why do you say that?”

Chrissy moved a strand of strawberry blond behind her ear, “Well look at me Eddie. Look at us. We’re both unmarried, we don’t have kids, and… well… I’m just scared that someone will try to confront us.”

He cradled her hands, rubbing little circles on her skin, “Why do you think someone would do that?”

Her thoughts continued to plague her, “Well wouldn’t you be weirded out that a couple of adults are going to a toy store together? I mean, all those parents in there looking at us like we’re doing something wrong.”

Her point did hold merit. While Hawkins was one of the few small towns making some progress in terms of living in a “non traditional” way, the judgmental mindset was still just as strong as it’s always been. Perhaps it will take another generation or two until people start to see that those who were deemed “different” were not a threat in any way shape or form. For the time being, Eddie had to keep in mind that his way of looking at life and people differed greatly compared to Chrissy. Her whole life has been nothing but harsh criticism and order. Should anything that strayed just a tad from the “correct” way of life was considered deviant and was meant to be shunned. Learning to enjoy life’s little treasures and oddities would take time. That meant also having to deal with naysayers that chose to use their time to look down on others rather than utilize what little time they have left to let others be and enjoy themselves.

Eddie pecked her cheek, “Well I don’t think we’re doing anything wrong. We’re both law abiding citizens spending time together. There’s no rule stating that we can’t go in… maybe just look around a little.” His ringed hand brought her closer until she laid her head upon his shoulder. “Maybe you’ll see something that you like or maybe you won’t.”

She gulped, “But what if someone comes up to us?”

He twiddled a lock of her hair between his fingers, “Then I’ll tear them to shreds. And you can sew them back up again. Maybe we can get them a little tutu while we’re at it.”

She tried to sound firm but still ended up chuckling, “Eddie be serious.”

He held up his hands in surrender, that bashful grin stretching across his face, “Okay, okay. Sorry that was stupid… and pretty morbid.” Eddie held her hand once more, pecking the back of it, “Hey, we’ll just walk in and check it out. Just for a couple of minutes.”

“Promise?”

He crossed his chest as he gave Scout’s Honor, “I promise.”

When they walked past the doors, an employee welcomed them with a big smile across her slightly acne ridden face. Her tone was warm like a blanket fresh from the dryer, inviting them into the workshop like she usually does with all customers.

“So have you been here before?”

The question was directed to Chrissy and she felt nervous, “W-Well no I haven’t. I- We came here to just look around.”

“Alright and if you’re interested I can show you where the friends are.” She noted, gesturing to the area filled with stuffed animals. Chrissy’s interest was piqued as she gazed over the stuffies looking up at her. The employee continued, “We want to ensure that all of our friends find a home where they’ll be loved and taken care of.”

Eddie simply stood back and watched the way Chrissy’s body language changed from fearful to absorbed. Her fingers gliding along the rows of cute little animals, the artificial fur tickling the pads of her fingertips. They all looked so cuddly and so loving. Chrissy looked back over to Eddie, he still had that compassionate smile on. She didn’t need anyone’s permission to be here. Nor did she need said permission to find that spark of joy in something that many would deem childish. Her eyes spotted something sitting on a display shelf, a cozy brown bear with dark eyes, a soft nose, and big paws. The toy wore a little sweater with a name embroidered into its top.

The worker came up, “If you’re interested in adopting, I can show you how it works. All you need to do is pick out your buddy.”

Maybe she would, maybe she did need a little buddy in her life. It was no contest when she picked out the same brown bear, although it’s body looked like a deflated balloon. The process seemed simple enough for a small child to follow: Pick a friend, have them stuffed, perform a little heart ceremony, grab an article of clothing, pay, and get out. Easy peasy lemon squeezie! Of course it was necessary to remember that small children don’t have the level of self awareness the same way that an adolescent and certainly an adult has. Chrissy’s anxious feelings returned when she was to participate in the ceremony. A part of her wanted to simply ask if she could skip that portion, but another part of her was curious to know what had to be done. She picked out the little red heart, the material felt so soft in her palms. First she needed to warm up the heart between her hands, so that her friend would always feel warm. Then she needed to shake the heart because the bear does have a lot of energy. She then followed through with rubbing it on her nose so her bear knows her, on her back so her friend always has her back, on her knees so it always needs her, on her funny bone so bear can always tell her funny jokes, on her muscles so bear is always strong, on her forehead so he can show her how smart and clever he is, and finally on her heart.

“Rub it on your heart because bear loves you,” the worker noted in a sing song tone and with an endearing smile. “Okay, just one more thing! Make a wish to the heart.”

To an outsider this whole thing must have appeared so silly. A grown woman doing these motions and playing this little game as if her bear would come to life like the toys in Toy Story. Yet everyone in the store was much too busy with bringing their own friends to life; even those that passed the store were focused on other matters. Chrissy brought the soft heart to her lips and whispered something to it. Something so sweet and loving that only the little bear would know it. Finally the little cartoon shaped organ was placed into the stuffed animal and she was ready to go clothes shopping. Nothing really spoke to her in terms of what she believed would have suited the animal best. Eddie figured that she would have picked something similar to what she has at home: Bright, patterned, and perhaps pastel colored. If only the place had a cheerleading uniform, now that would be adorable. Or perhaps a mini faux leather jacket, a rock band shirt, and jeans ripped at the knees. Maybe he should consider sending a letter to the company for possible clothing options. Chrissy picked out a simple white sweater and asked for an embroidered name, however she informed Eddie to not look until it was ready.

He humored her and covered his eyes, “You’re the boss.”

He suddenly felt a fuzzy paw brush his cheek, a silly little voice spoke to him, “Ok Eddie, you can open your eyes.”

Before he could respond or even look at the bear, his eyes went straight to the golden embroidery upon its top. In big bold letters the name “TEDDIE” stared right back at him.

“Surprise!” Chrissy said with such enthusiasm. “I named him after you. He’s my little Eddie teddy. What do you think?”

He couldn’t stop his lip from trembling, “Baby that’s so sweet.”

Once the payment process was complete, they made their way over to the food court, picked out a couple of jeans for Eddie, and made their way over to the movie theater. Most people were eagerly awaiting to see the newest animated film Hercules and so they decided to buy tickets to that instead. They sat in the far back so she could watch the comedy musical while nuzzled up against Eddie and Teddie. Finally it was time for them to head home and she continued to snuggle up with her bear during the drive, ruffling up its fur and nuzzling her nose upon its nose. Pressing a little kiss to its forehead before placing it upon her lap.

She placed her hand on his thigh, “Thank you Eddie, I had a great time today.”

He held her hand and kissed it, “I’m happy to hear sweetheart.”

“I’ll love this bear forever.”

“Oh no, I’m being replaced,” he mentioned as he dramatically placed his hand upon his heart. “Oh my little felt heart!”

Chrissy rolled her eyes, reaching Teddie over to kiss his cheek, “Better?”

“Much better.”

Later that night Eddie found Chrissy fast asleep with Teddie snuggled up in her arms. He just wanted to capture that moment with their polaroid camera, but opted to take his place at her side instead. Her mind was at peace and all she needed was a little buddy in her life. Of course no stuffed animal could ever replace her beloved. Still Teddie may get a little lonely all by himself, especially when they have to go to work.

Perhaps he may need a companion one day.

#hellcheer #eddissy #munningham #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #chrissy x eddie #eddie x chrissy #hellcheer fic #hellcheer fan fic #hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer fanfiction

[jakowskis]

im SO pissed i didnt listen to believe for a fucking year bc i heard bad things about it. im never listening to anyone else's opinions again cuz THAT WAS BRILLIANT. THAT WAS EVERYTHING I WANT OUT OF TORCHWOOD i mean it was still a bit shit highkey but it was EXACTLY what i want out of this garbage show. sooo fucking season one core (aka my fav) all sorts of dark horrific connotations and unhealthy dynamics but no emotional weight or responsibility xD once again i cannot tell if the writer was even fucking AWARE of a lot of the things he was implying but what i interpreted as being implied is making me fucking tear up the floorboards im. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

that was so cynical and bitter and awful and miserable and edgy and shitty ITS EVERYTHING I WANTED. i love torchwood being goofy i do but what draws me into the show and the reason it's become one of my most, uh, aggressive hyperfixations ever (which is ridic btw) is cuz its FUCKED UP AND UNHAPPY and that? was fuuuuucked. obsessed.

cult leader jack cult leader jack cult leader jack U DONT UNDERSTAND IT MAKES ME RABID and they ran with it i. stick figure violence stick figure violence. feeling rabid. AND HIS FUCKING SPEECH AT THE END. DOES HE KNOW??? hes so fucking deluded I LOVE IT. ITS FASCINATING he thinks hes good.... he thinks hes good... hes aware n he feels responsible and yet he doesnt SEE he doesnt see he thinks hes doing his best. NOOO it had the be intentional literally "jack tell us what that was about" "later lol" "sure yeah always later" and then hes like "YOU HAVE TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY" GRRR JACK. JACK. also faith n believing.... ianto's trust. ianto's trust. you believe me like a god FUCK MY LIFEEEEEEEEEEE

jack always being five steps ahead + being 10x more competent than the team always makes me fucking roll my eyes but at this point i just kind of perceive it as the way tw constantly paints him as a deity figure. he can do no wrong

GWENS CYNICISM. TORCHWOOD BREAKING HER. TORCHWOOD BREAKING HER!!!!!!!!! FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK it's toxic... it's toxic... this job gets inside you THIS JOB GETS INSIDE YOUUU. torchwood thesis statement: this job fucking breaks you.

FINALLY some good fucking tosh x owen food. DONT GET ME WRONG THAT WAS FUCKING AWFUL but that was sooooooo much more compelling than the fucking bullshit that canon gave us. owen being a toxic abusive fucking manchild + doing smth bad enough to tosh that she FINALLY went "wow THATS the man im obsessing over" like g-d i would've killedddd for that to happen in the show i HATE that she wasted herself on him. i hate it. her disgust and anger at him was so THERAPEUTIC for me 😭 idk what it says about me that the way i was grinning when they were arguing n bitching at each other was probs the closest ive ever gotten to actually shipping them HFKJDSF theres smth wrong w me. i just think s2 tosh is too fucking sweet and good and probably naive and i think owen could so easily fuck her up, like i don't think there's a world where he wouldn't hurt her tbh, and i don't want that to happen i adore her too much. like i don't think he's irredeemable, i ship him w other characters who i think could handle him, but i don't think tosh could, and that was validation of that opinion, you know? i'd be more willing to ship them if tosh was firm with him and didn't let him walk all over her, and it sucks that she didn't do that and got herself hurt and THATS what it took to make her call him tf out and tell him how much he sucks. ig a lot of why towen bugs me sm boils down to the fact that im not comfortable shipping someone who's kind of awful with someone who idealizes them and doesn't seem to grasp the scale of how bad they are. that's a recipe for an unhealthy dynamic and if i didn't like tosh i might be intrigued by it ngl HFSKDF but thats my babygirl and the idea of putting her thru Being With Him disgusts me. she deserves better until he gets his fucking shit together. which he never does and she never gets to have something good bc she was waiting for his shitty ass lmao YAYY!!

owen was AWFUL in that btw. and i adored him in it. my fav owen is an owen who's spiraling and destructively fixated on something for selfish purposes to the point that he doesnt care who he hurts to accomplish it. he's so villain coded fhsdkfjdsk he redeems himself in the show and i love that but the audios further explore the fact that he's got such a darkness to him he SO EASILY can be pushed into destroying everything. hes constantly on the precipice of monstrosity and cruelty bc of his own hurt. it's like hes so full of rot it leaks out of him and infects others and he hates it but he cant help it. i will never get over the doctor with poison fingers oh he makes my heart ache. he's just so misguided. he's so broken.

which brings us back to jack's speech. (him talking to the cult leader lady) "They were broken, and you were the person they turned to for help. If you don’t accept their problems, then don’t offer yourself as a solution." literally im gonna think about this for months. HE DOESNT SEE!!!!!!!!!

g-d and ianto's orientation or whatever. that was Fantastic ianto insight. he's so much more interesting when he's away from jack it's almost impressive.

i am just. gdddddddddddddddddddddddd. i am so distraught. help meeee

#sss #txt #torchwood posting #rereading this i did not mean to repeat things twice sm i was just rlly excited HFKDS sorry its annoying oops

[darkspellmaster]

Which Disney Princesses would you ship the Overblot Gang (Riddle, Leona, etc) with and why?

Riddle with Tiana = Both smart and cleaver people who care deeply about work and I think Tiana could get him to be lighter given she was a workaholic too. Leona with Pocahontas = Both desire things and both feel kind of stuck in a sort of world they want to expand upon. At the same time I think that she could help him be a bit less cynical about things. Azul with Merida = I know it seems weird but, hear me out I think that there's a similar issue there when it comes to wanting to be special in some way and stand out. I also think that she could drive him out of his shell as it were. (If not her then Audrey from Atlantis as both are very business minded people) Jamil with Eilonwy = Brave, smart, clever, won't take any bullshit. She's just awesome and could go tit for tat with Jamil and push him to do things he wants to do.

Vil with Jane Porter = You might say "Why?" well the answer comes from the fact that Jane is a curious sort who views beauty in the world. She draws, and paints and takes pictures. She's someone who would admire Vil for his love of beauty. She's kind of a rook in a way. Idia with Arial =Curious, a bit head strong, but also someone that admires the world and would be happy to listen to him babble about his collection. I mean...she's a geeky collector herself!

Ortho with Snow White = Sweet and kind, but also hard working and wants to make others happy. I feel like Snow would get along really well with Ortho and make him happy with how she wants to just enjoy life.

Malleus with Rapunzel =Wants to see the world, both are weirdos in their own right, and artists it seem (gargoyle club makes them too) and both have been pretty suck in their lives to a point. I can see her and him enjoying just walking and seeing things.

Those are my pics.

#twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #overblot gang #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #ortho shroud #Malleus draconia #Snow white #jane porter #Merida #merida brave #tiana #eilonwy #arial #Pocahontas #rapunzel #Disney princesses #snow white and the seven dwarves #tarzan #brave #princess and the frog #black cauldron #the little mermaid #tangled

[lizlives]

I'm honestly upset that I'm not the one who came up with this, it was my brother who truly made the connection randomly in conversation with me once (assuming that I had already made it no less 😭) but I think a lot about how the comic version of The Boys seemingly number 1 rhetorical strategy for demonizing it's superhero expies was to specifically cast them as sex criminals in some fashion, or at the very least use sexual deviancy as a crutch for its demonization of them.

I can't get over how fascinating that is, there are probably examples you could give of supers the author wrote that weren't sex criminals, but that was seemingly what he did for around 90% of them. Why? I can't see inside the author's mind so I don't know for certain, but it does remind me a lot of the discussion surrounding drag queens right now, which itself is informed by a generalized wave of queerphobia and specifically transphobia now.

Something about the way the stories are portrayed. It doesn't just feel cynical because of how it writes the superheroes to be, the story is reflexively cynical towards the idea of them, the way that they're drawn the way they move and gesticulate, and writes in a backstory that usually paints them as being sexually deviant at least, and sexual criminals at worst, and it seems to view both of those as almost equally deserving of violence.

Idk, I think about how obsessed conservatives are with writing stories and making movies about them protecting good upstanding people (usually women and children) from evil sex criminals. It should go without saying hating pedophiles is perfectly justified, but republicans are super extra about it. This is most likely connected to how they want to arbitrarily draw a connection between queer people and pedophilia, and I get that same vibe from the Boys comic.

The comic seems to pride itself on setting up horrific sex criminals wearing colorful outfits and with flamboyant styles, often arguably queer-coded, followed by some grim white dude mercilessly killing them in almost pornographic fashion, which feels almost verbatim like a lot of the stuff conservatives write. And in both cases, they don't need to explicitly be homophobic, it's all in how it's written.

Idk exactly where I'm going with this, this is more just me putting my thoughts down. And like I said, I don't know what the author was thinking when he wrote the comic, but the patterns seemed extremely similar, enough for me to notice at least. But yeah, I know most people just take it for granted this comic sucks, but I have yet to see anyone bring up in any great detail these kinda points.

#queerphobia #transphobia #the boys comics #the boys #superhero writing #cw queerphobia

[hikari-ni-naritai]

I recognize this is weird to say as a relative stranger but sometimes your posts come off like you just hate being trans. The other day you mentioned how you're not proud of it, it's just the only way you can be a girl and I guess that just sounds like a miserable way to live. Also taken in conjuction with the fact that you are proud of being a lesbian (and I'm sure you don't mean it this way) it kinda makes it sound like you think being a trans woman is a pale imitation of Real Womanhood(tm)

Watch throwing these sort of accusations around, anon. You wouldn't want someone to think you're accusing a trans woman of transphobia, and I don't take kindly to the implication. Frankly I think trans women understand womanhood better than every cis woman on the planet.

Look, everyone has their own experience. Here on tumblr we love to act like every trans woman is a carbon copy of a polyamorous blahaj-collecting girl who doesn't shower and gets her dick sucked at every meal or whatever, but you have got to understand that we are all individual people who see the world through our own lenses. Maybe my friend is trans and finds joy in it. She revels in her ability to express herself through her gender. And maybe another friend finds hope in it. For the first time there's a light at the end of the long tunnel of self hatred. And maybe another finds Herself in it, for the first time truly feeling free and human.

What I find is a blessed relief. An escape from the curse of how I was born. I don't hate being trans any more than I hate the rope I climb out of the well I fell into. And I will gladly tell my friends about the rope and the well and everything in between, thankful for every experience along the way that made me who i am! But I don't want to carry it with me in the streets, smelling of mud and stagnant water, to draw the eye of every stranger around me.

And this is obviously not everyone's experience! Most trans people will probably not relate to this at all! And that's fine, and that's GOOD, because it's people like that who have the fire and conviction and determination to fight for our rights, to protest injustice, to make the world a better place. It's just not who I am. I am tired and burnt out and cynical and it takes every ounce of strength I have in me just to make myself a little better, a little kinder, a little more cheerful every day.

I'm sure this would be a miserable way for some people to live. One of my closest friends often tells me she works to get over her dysphoria by celebrating the things she's dysphoric about, because she can't hate her way to self love. And it works for her! I would never want her to have to live the way I do because she would be miserable. But also I could never live the way she does, because that would make ME miserable. I find that my hatred of my body does in fact give way to self love as it changes. The things I hate fall away from me like so many chips of faded paint, and as I begin to see the fresh canvas underneath I am filled with love for her. There is a joy here, in being a girl.

I hope this makes sense. I hope I did not come off harshly.

[theinfinitedivides]

being british is not "a fast track to being not decent". if you're not living in britain then your perception is being altered by the fact that the only ones you ever fucking see on screen were born into the 0.1%.

also how did you miss the entire point of that post, the point is that any english actor allowed to have any kind of career these days is the opposite of representative of the majority of citizens. hopefully you're just a kid but if not jesus christ learn to fucking read

i was going to start this with the traditional pleasantries but it seems my general use of sarcasm (humorous or otherwise) on this main for the past 3+ years is lost on you (even though i am trying to give you the benefit of the doubt by saying that you're coming across me for the first time), so let me make it very clear: my ancestors were f*cking enslaved by the UK. there are ancestors that haven't been confirmed except through word of mouth that were most likely f*cked over by the UK in various ways. i think then, in this circumstance, that i have the right to say that the British government in general has done f*cking horrible things. the British themselves have done f*cking horrible things. i am not talking about individual people on the streets and in the countryside just trying to live their lives, i am talking about the entire f*cking system that enables sh*t like this. the British system is not decent. not at all, and if you're steeped in that like a mf*cking teabag for God knows how long, i've found it hard to discover exceptions to the societal bedrock that is racism, classism and white jackassery since we're talking about the same place that, despite giving us Shakespeare and Rickman and Princess Diana (landed gentry aside) also gave us Churchill (took the UK through WWII but engineered a f*cking famine in India bc according to him they 'breed like rabbits'), the f*cking Fiennes clan (Ralph is a JKR supporter), and Charles and Andrew and the rest of the royal f*cking family, so if that isn't a fast track to being not decent then idk what is.

that being said, sure, as cynical of a bitch that i am maybe my perception is less than ideal bc of the 0.1%, but if all of the f*cking people in charge are part of the 0.1% then how tf do you expect me to say otherwise, exactly? the reason there isn't representation is bc the industry sucks ass, which is why the only actors i'm interested in are Welsh and Irish and Scottish—the status quo rn is not concerned with allowing people with a regular 'English' background to have their time on screen, let alone LGBTQ+ and POC. and so yes, the nepo babies are going to continue to have a career, even if they act worse than f*cking paint on a drywall, and the cycle will start all over again, and we can forget about having a f*cking accurate portrayal of the average citizen any time soon, and this goes for the British film industry and Hollywood and Bollywood—contrary to your belief, i am privileged enough to have been able to learn in such a way that i was able to pick up the necessary comprehension skills needed to function meaningfully in this society without being disenfranchised. (PSA: others, i know, have not been able to. that does not make them worth any less.) i didn't know, however, that i was supposed to write an entire essay in the f*cking tags??? to explain that i did, in fact, comprehend??? and to reiterate what was already f*cking there??? i'm sorry??? just bc i chose not to address the aforementioned info and instead indirectly acknowledged that it was correct by emphazing what i did doesn't mean i didn't see it—i literally put a qualifier for the first point you brought up (something like '... if the ancestors minded their f*cking business #and lived their lives like normal human beings'). generational tendencies and traits are a thing, that's why we have a whole subset of American citizens who still think it's alright to use the f*cking N word to refer to Black people

look, i really don't know what side of the bed you woke up on and i'm sorry you felt the need to come into my inbox and bitch about this, but i hope you felt better after sending this and didn't put any of this toxicity into anyone else's space, OK? ty <333

#inbox #q: anon #i am so aggressively passive aggressive here while also cursing like a mf*cker sfjsfdnkjsdnj #sweetheart if you're truly making a valid point and i am not Getting It bc of the aggressive quality of this ask #then i apologize in advance but ykw #if you were that pressed about it....... you could have just...... idk...... blocked the post??? DMd me??? sent this ask off anon??? #i'm not the kind of person who doxxes people who send things off anon when it isn't nice #i'm not going to send people to dox you either #but do know sending hate mail on anon is one of the worst forms of cowardice on this hellsite and i see it every time #to make my point i'm stealing @angelspulse's tags from the OG post to confirm that #if an actor from heres white theres a 90% chance their family were directly responsible for colonising a country #i was also going to say the industry sucks d*ck but as someone who's also gay af that's an insult to the solidarity of most MLM /hj #anyway i need to go and sleep now if you're still pressed anon figure it out

[tennessoui]

Tag Game to Better Know You

Send this to people you’d like to know better!

Tagged by @lilredghost, thank you :D

What book are you currently reading? oof honestly, i'm not reading anything right now :( i'm very busy with silly lil fanfic writing instead which is probably the definition of brainrot, but it is time consuming

What’s your favorite movie you saw in theaters this year? i've...only seen one movie in theaters since COVID-19, and that was actually last month when i went to go see the second black panther. it was good but like. really long. 2 hours and 45 minutes is too long for any movie i said what i said

What do you usually wear? hm i have one pair of jeans i love and wear a lot! and one pair of office pants i also like. and then a lot of shirts. and some cute dresses, but that's more of a summer thing

How tall are you? 5’6”? 5'7"? I haven't been to the doctor since 2016 and I have not measured myself independently.

What’s your Star Sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event? Aquarius :> and my birthday is Mozart's birthday! that's the only one I know! I can't even play piano :D

Do you go by your name or a nickname? Kit is my nickname! but i do go by it in real life, though most people think i say Kim and i usually do not correct them

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child? i don't think im done growing up (maybe if i went to the doctor, they would tell me differently idk)

Are you in a relationship? If not, who is your crush if you have one? That one tumblr post: "not in a relationship, not aromantic, but a secret third thing. unwanted ;) "

What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at? im pretty good at writing but im pretty bad at using commas correctly

Dogs or cats? dogs :>

If you draw/write or create in any way, what’s your favorite picture/line/etc from something you created this year? i do write!! but actually one of my favorite things i've made this year is a painting i did for a friend as a goodbye present. a little 5x7 canvas of a sunrise over some cherry blossoms

(and also i can't think of a quote i've written this year and i'm too lazy to find one)

What’s something you would like to create content for? me, one day lol

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with? ack, gotta say star wars. but also gotta say cooked octopus. it's the moment. oh and toast and trader joe's tomato and red pepper soup.

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year? umm i had a really nice vacation planned with friends i haven't seen for ages, but i had to leave early cause there was a family emergency thing which sorta sucked (for my family mostly)

What’s a hidden talent of yours? oh im really good at cutting a circular object into perfect eighths. or fourths! a weird superpower

Are you religious? my dad told me once that there's got to be something out there that makes the leaves so green in the spring and he calls it Big Ernie. he's a hippie but he might be onto something

What’s something you wish to have at this moment? a new keyboard im this close to snapping at all the times i hit a key once and suddenly have 5 extra letters. >:(

ack i feel like i've seen these around but also i can't remember if i have, so feel free to ignore this tag: @ellie-you-idiot @kdm103020 @demondean-writes @sweet-cynic @kittonafoxgirl @bi-wan @obiwan @mysticmjolnir

#tag games #feel free to a) ignore #b) tag yourself #there were a couple of blogs i wanted to tag that wouldn't come up when i typed them in #im blaming it on the keyboard and alsso tumblr #kit to kit

[domono08]

Hey, have you guys heard of that new show Helluva Boss? Yeah, I watched it once and I’m pretty sure it’s one of the circles of hell that Dante forgot to mention.

I mean, usually when a show sucks, it’s boring or just poorly written. But Helluva Boss manages to be both offensive and unwatchable. And don’t even get me started on the animation. It looks like it was drawn by someone who just learned how to use MS Paint.

But you know what’s even worse than the show itself? The stans. It’s like they’re in a cult or something. They’ll defend anything that comes out of the showrunner’s mouth, even if it’s clearly problematic.

I guess there’s just something about terrible media that attracts a certain type of person. It’s like they’re trying to prove how edgy and niche they are by liking something that’s objectively bad. Sorry, but if you’re trying to be cool by being a fan of Helluva Boss, you’re doing it wrong.

But maybe I’m just being cynical. Maybe the show has some redeeming qualities that I missed. Or maybe I just need to go rewatch a real cartoon, like Spongebob or Adventure Time.

#domono08 #blogs #cartooning #artists on tumblr #hand drawn #black artist #animation #fan artist #vizziepop #writing humor #humor #jokes #vivzieverse #vivziepop #helluva boss #rant #edgy

[madamhatter]

(Hi excuse me but ur a good and I want to tell you that I love talking to you over discord, always a pleasure to gush over our muses. Like you portray Sophie fantastically, it's a real pleasure to see her on dash. Just this mildly cynical helpful person who honestly needs a therapist smh. also neato to see all the aesthetic posts which just…gives a lot of life to ur blog honestly. and adding upon this I love reading your hc posts, there is so much thought that goes into them n how you portray her? I swear like. you could write an essay on her thoughts of something silly like wall paint n i'd prob read it no questions asked.)

So I sat here writing and rewriting a lot of what I was going to say to this ask. And the first thing that always came up was “Thank you, Seventh,” and “you do not know how much this means.” I will then regurgitate that again and say, again, Thank you, Seventh, you have no idea how much this reaches me on a personal level.

You are in the handful of people that really motivate me to write, because, you really engage with me. I cannot emphasize my appreciation about that - from the randomest thoughts or replies that I give or weird crap I throw your way, we always synthesize and grow and react to another. 

Within my humblest opinions as a writer, it is the best when people react to what you write. I have rambled here plenty, but my ‘love language’ as a rper is always responding (OOC) and giving feedback and writing back from the emotions elicited from someone’s writing. In some real pathetic way, it’s about acknowledgement, about being seen.

And, you, and a small handful of people, really motivate me to continue on. And some people might think it’s such a small act and gesture. I gather every small thing that I can and place it in a jar because I cherish any chance on people seeing I pour my heart out to write something for them. 

Hell, writing should be for the self, and I whole-heartedly believe it. But it is something else to write for someone else - to show the effort, love, and passion in reciprocating what they’ve made for you. 

But I’ve written with people, make some major development/connection/relationship - massive things with plotting and the whole ordeal  - and rarely, and I mean rarely, do I hear any feedback. A little morsel of engagement is hard enough to come by for me. Not a sound, not a peep.

It’s really tough on me as a writer sometimes. Moreover, as a friend. It is hard trying to channel through what you love doing, and by extension, what someone else loves too, and it is met with a resounding silence. It isn’t to receive something grand as a response or so detailed, but even an unprompted ‘that was cute!’ is enough for me. 

But, sometimes it can just feel this one-sided affair that drains me.  It has gotten me to points where I am surprised they even read it and I feel discouraged each and every time I have the chance to write. 

And it gets to a point that I need to tell someone to at least meet halfway or be more expressive on something. Just a little something. 

There are points where I stare at the ceiling and contemplate why I keep on doing this. 

It’s this depressive spiral that I ended up writing about again that I didn’t want to. But my feelings on this mean so much to me that it is hard to hold them back like tears. Because there’s still great relief with it and also this grief that meddles together in a way that wants me to hide in a hole. 

It really fucking sucks.

So, when I say it means a lot, it really means a lot. Just knowing that someone actually likes Sophie and her weird ways and getting through her things and actually going through my writing and understanding the process behind it. It gets me seen in a way that makes me want to cry in a good way.

Because it’s good to feel that the way I see you and react to your things and appreciate it is reciprocated. 

Thank you, Seventh.

#( checkbooks inquiries and much ; answered asks ) #( ooc related ) #thelytenyerealms #depression tw #depression

[proof0fexistence]

bah humbug.

Merry whatever, happy who cares, and prosperous up yours.

I shouldn't be so cynical, I love Christmas. It was always my job to help decorate, to bake the cookies, to wrap presents. I was the little elf. I forced everyone to be festive. I don't know what shifted. My physical absence in my childhood home has left that hole for my family, but even for myself, the Christmas joy is gone.

My time home for Christmas is the longest I've been here since last January. You can tell that I'm not here much; there is not a shred of my clothing, a tschoskie I used to collect, or even any food I can eat anywhere. Instead of being welcomed home to doting family, warm meals, and a comfortable bed to fall into after a stressful semester, I am a visitor sleeping in my kitchen, my door being a sheet hung on a string. I prepare all of my meals myself, not like my family eats together anyway. I push my family to get out and do things together, and if we do, someone complains, but most of the time we don't. When it's time for me to return to school, I always get guilt-tripped, since my parents "barely saw me" the entire time I was home. Could it hurt for them to make the effort to spend time with me? There's a reason I don't come home often.

And now it's Christmas day. A weird tinge of sadness paints today, and no one wants to talk about it. I know why Christmas makes me sad. It's a reminder that my parents have no idea who I am. I can't entirely blame them for that, but it feels really easy to feel sorry for myself about it. It seems that my parents have only ever had an idea of who Paige is, even when I was younger. They can make out the silhouette, but it's hard for them to fill in the details. I got a bunch of backpacking gear for Christmas, all the stuff that was on my list. I'm grateful for it, it was what I needed, and nothing that I would buy for myself. But the smaller gifts felt impersonal. There was nothing that I received that wasn't on my list that indicated that there was any thought about what I might like. It felt very safe. I honestly would have felt better if they had tried to get me something specific and missed the mark completely. At least then it would have felt like they were trying.

I think it doesn't help that I come from a stiff-upper-lip family. Which is crazy to think about, since I am such an emotional person. It's always been this way, especially with my mom. I think messy emotions scare her. I've been trying to be more open of a person, more real (it's something that I've always struggled with), and I told her that Christmas makes me sad. All she could reply was "me too, isn't that sad?" End of conversation. I wanted to tell her that I felt like I have never really felt comfortable opening up to her or Dad, a weird part of me wanted to pull up all the past receipts, be mad, and yell at her about all the times when I tried to open up and she shut me down, or maybe cry with her about how we miss Grandma. I didn't get any of this, case in point.

A big part of me wants to go back to Worcester. I want to run away from my feelings and problems and spend the next 14 days sitting around and watching tv and sleeping all day. A big part of me wants to stop existing, just for a little bit, just until I can feel normal again.

A big part of me is so resentful of Rae. To be so blatant, she has always gotten exactly what she wanted or needed, and she still complains. I'm resentful because she asked for help, and she received it. She's allowed to throw fits, she's allowed to ask for more, she's allowed to be upset, and most of all, she's allowed to fail. And I don't ask for help, and I don't receive it. This is partly my fault. But, for good reason, for case studies in the past, I have asked for help, and I have not received it. I have been told to stop being dramatic, to suck it up. When I told my parents I was assaulted by a close family friend, that they were a room over when it happened, my mom told me she was worried that I was gonna come home and tell them that I was pregnant, as if my months of lonely sadness were the least of my worries. This just builds my resentment.

But I know that my parents don't know any better. I know that my mom is like me, she doesn't like to talk about her feelings, or maybe she doesn't think she can unless they're resolved and wrapped in a beautiful bow of self-actualization, and a note saying "But don't worry about me, I've got it figured out." What a beautiful Christmas gift that would be, I think that's what I want this year. Vulnerability, and proof that my family actually cares.

#christmas #family #college #bah humbug