#<- no idea what the context of that was but it’s still true

[pit-and-the-pen]

Your Love is Sunlight- Unrequited Love Pt.3

Whoops. Part 3 to Requited Love but could also be read as a stand-alone (I think I gave enough context to do that). This will be the last linear fic for this little series. But there will be more from this OC.

Let me know if you want to be added to the on-going taglist for this OC

Eris x Day Court! OC (Sunbeam) 

Warnings: Suggestive language, heavy kissing. One singular dialogue line with misogyny. Eating (as always let me know if I'm missing anything)

Also I’m heavily messing around with canon/ lore for mating bonds here. 

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Pt. 2 Alt Ending]

WC: 3.7k

divider by @cafekitsune

The request came not even a week later. A week that I could not get the red head out of my thoughts. Eris was a perfect gentleman that night, only lightly chucking as he held my hips away from his after our heated kiss.  We danced the rest of the night away until my shoes had worn painful blisters into my heel. And I would do it a million times over if I got to see that look in his eyes

Eris looked at me like he actually saw me. Like a was someone worth looking at. Not a second option. No, he looked at me the way no one ever had before and I was drunk off of it. The fire in his eyes was enough to make me want to sink to my knees right then and there. I had told him that much that night. 

But instead, he went back to his court. The very court whose seal is on the envelope in my hands. The paper so dark red it was almost black. I opened it with shaky hands and scanned over the words, over and over. Written in loopy, beautiful cursive. The note was short and sweet 

Sunbeam, it would be my honor to show you around the Autumn court. You’d be my personal guest. 

I will be waiting for your reply. 

Yours,

Eris 

One little word made my heart skip a beat. YOURS. Something deep in my chest purred at the idea but I brushed it off to the side. Flirting is one thing but the idea of Eris ever truly wanting something like that with me seemed too good to be true. So I wrote back my enthusiastic yes and in a puff of smoke that left the room smelling faintly of cinnamon, the letter was gone. Returned back to the male that had written it. 

I had never been to the Autumn Court before. My eyes tried to adjust to the beautiful reds, greens and yellows in hues I’d never seen outside of paintings. The cool breeze that seemed to whisper in my ear as it brushed past. Everything seemed alive as I heard the scurrying of animals on the leaf covered ground. When the air rose a few degrees, you already knew who was walking up to me. I greeted Eris with a tight hug. He was dressed in a handsome emerald green button down with gray slacks. His hair tied up out of his face unlike the other night at the ball. Those same golden rings littered his fingers. I blushed as I realized my eyes had been raking over him. If he had noticed, he didn’t say anything. Suddenly not knowing what to do with myself, I gave him an overdramatic curtsey raising my voice to stuff almost regal pitch. 

“High Lord.” He quickly recovered from the confusion that washed over him. He smiled, catching on, before he bowed low

“Allow me the honor of showing you around.” He said as he extended an arm to me. His voice dripped with that same faux stuffiness. The two of you looked at each other, holding back laughter. I broke first. My laughter rang through the large forest at my back. His head was thrown back, blinding white teeth flashing. Once we had recovered, he held out his arm again. Voice back to normal. “I would still like to show you around.” I took his arm and the two of us walked around the manor that seemed to rise out of the forest. 

AS he showed me around, he told me of the renovations that had recently taken place, pointed out the things that he still planned to change. The inside was just as breathtaking as the woods around the house. Rich colors and soft, plush fabrics filled the space with an unmistakable warmth. One that Eris had painstakingly tried to create. 

“And this will be your room for your stay. I already had your things brought up and I had Tessa and Clover, two of my mothers maids, pick out some warmer clothes for you.” He gestured to the large armoire in the corner of the room. “If you need anything else please don’t hesitate to tell them or myself.” Thanks rushed out of my mouth as I gaped at the room. 

My  room at the day court had floor to ceiling windows that allowed for sun to streak through at all waking hours, marble and gold littered every surface possible. This room was cozy enough that I instantly felt my eyes get heavy. Dark wood paneling ran across the walls. Heavy curtains over the windows that had been pinned back displayed the colorful trees. And the bed.the bed. It was covered with the softest, plushest blankets I had ever seen. Pillows covered over half the bed and it made me want to do nothing but burrow into them and never leave that bed. My feet drifted on their own accord over to the bed, I reached out a hand and almost sighed at the feeling of the fabric against my fingers. Just as soft as they looked. 

Eris’ content laugh pulled me out of my trance. I turned around to face him, he stood in the doorway still. “I’ll let you get settled. I can show you around more later today before dinner? If you want.” My heart fluttered at the idea, the thought of his court seeing us together. Of course, it was probably just to make sure I didn’t get lost in the maze that was the manor. At least that’s what I told myself, but as he took one more glance at me before he walked out of the room, I wasn't sure how much I believed that. 

Although I had bathed earlier that day, the deep tub in my bathroom all but called my name. I sniffed random bottles of oils and poured in spicy, warm smells. The oils seemed to curl in the air and beckon me to sink deeper into the water. Completely submerging my head until I needed to come up for air. I sat in the bath until my skin started to prune. Groaning, I pulled myself from the soothing water and dried off. Wrapping the towel around myself, I padded over to the closet and ran a hand over all the clothes Eris had given me. The closet was full of jewel tones and deep reds. Floor length dresses that were heavy enough to keep out the nip of the air at night but light enough to walk around in during the day. I picked an emerald long sleeve dress and blushed at the realization that Eris and I would be matching. Before I could lose my nerve, I pulled the dress over my shoulder. The front buttoned up all the way to the ground. The waist tucked in slightly flaring out around my hips. It felt amazing against my skin and fit like a glove. 

A knock at the door pulled my eyes from my reflection in the mirror. My hair was still wet from the bath and small waves were starting to form at the ends. Eris opened the door and stilled as he took me in. I felt like I was a thousand feet under his heavy gaze. He looked down at his own shirt for a second before he looked at me again. 

“Autumn court is a good look for you, Sunbeam.” My whole body flushed at the compliment and I hummed in agreement. A small yip from the hallway split my focus. A small furry face pushed through his legs, almost toppling the High Lord. “Azelia” he whistled, the hound stilled for a second before prancing over to me. She sniffed at my skirt before she sat at my feet, giving me her full attention. I reached down to pet her and she rolled over onto her back. I laughed at the twitch in her tail as I ran a hand over her stomach. Eris whistled one more time and she barked back before flipping back over and walked to sit at his feet in a similar manner. I giggled at the exhausted look he shot the dog. She only barked in her own form of laughter. 

Eris and I walked along a river by the house. He helped me pick out the perfect stones for skipping across the water. Coming up behind me to make sure my arm had the perfect flick to make it sail over the surface. I wasn’t nearly as good as he was, even with his help. Something he pointed out with a smirk. I pushed him lightly and he clutched at his chest like I had mortally wounded him. Crouching down onto both knees. I walked closer to him.

“Oh please, Eris ge-” My words were replaced with a yelp as he wrapped his arms around my legs and pulled me over his shoulder. I could only laugh my head off as I pounded at his back. Demanding he put me down. When he did, I felt the tree against my back. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you sound when you laugh?” I blushed and shook my head. 

“It can’t be that special. No one has ever said that before.” He knew who I was speaking about and he pulled my chin up to look him in the eyes 

“I wish I could offer the usual sentiment of killing the male that ever made you feel this way but that would complicate things as a high lord,” he winked at me. I felt my shoulders loosening at the humor in his voice. “But you say the word and I will.” He picked up a lock of my hair and twirled it around his finger. “You’re radiant and anyone who has ever made you feel otherwise is either blind or dumb or both.”

We had leaned in so close to one another that I could count the freckles on the bridge of his nose. Someday I hoped he would let me kiss each and every single one of them. My eyes flickered down to his lips and he was smirking as he followed my eye line. 

“Is there something you want, Sunbeam?” The little shit. It’s like my words had evaporated completely. Brain went fuzzy as his smell wrapped around me. I could do nothing but whimper. He made no other remark, only used his hand already in my hair to grip the back of my head. He growled as he smashed his lips to mine. This was nothing like the kiss from the ball. That had been exploratory and warm. This was an all consuming inferno. Burning through every ounce of self doubt I harbored. Scorching through my veins until only Eris was left. His free hand wrapped around my waist and pressed me against every delicious inch of him. When I started undoing the buttons of his shirt, he still his lips. His hand went to rest over mine and I reluctantly pulled away from him. I tried not to show the hurt on my face. And he leaned in to whisper in my ear. 

“The first time I'm inside of you will not be outside. Nor when we're rushed. I need time to make you scream my name. For all of Priyanth to hear that you’re mine.” Something more than hunger flashed in his eyes and I felt that look deep in me. 

“Eris.” I gasped out. He brushed a soft hand down the side of my face. 

“You can’t say my name like that sweetheart, not when I have to sit at dinner with the rest of my court in less than an hour.” I blushed at the meaning behind his words and tried, and failed, to not look down to the front of his pants. The evidence behind his words. My tongue ran across my lips at the sight. He groaned and stepped away from me. 

“You are a bad influence. But I meant what I said.” He booped my nose with his pointer finger, “ Now please go get ready for dinner.” His hand lingered on my arm for a fraction longer before he reluctantly let go.

I got dressed in a daze. A wild blush would not leave my cheeks. Everytime I managed to push away my errant thoughts, more would seep back into my mind. 

Before I knew it, I had changed into a new dress and was walking side by side with Eris down to the dining room. A few members of his court were already there, talking amongst themselves. They smiled up at him as we passed. As I sat down next to him they introduced themselves in kind tones. I nodded trying to keep up with their names and faces. More people started to come in and eventually all the places at the table were filled. 

There was no big speech or ceremony to start dinner. Everyone ate at the pace that they wanted to and cups of wine were being poured and shared. 

A deep voice of an older male pulled me from my conversation with the female,Fern I think was her name, next to me. 

“I’m still trying to figure you out.” He stated plainly. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you hung around Rhysand and his cronies. Came crawling back to Day where Helion welcomed you with open arms,” I felt the room grow hotter. “So I’m simply wondering how to get you in my bed too.” One second the male had been sitting at the table and before I could even blink, he had been blasted across the room. He sat up, eyes unfocused as he put a hand to his head. All eyes turned from the male now lying on the floor to the High Lord who was picking at non-existent dirt under his nails. 

“You will not speak to any female, especially guests, like that in this court. Ever. Again.” He hardly looked up at male before he evenly said, “You’re dismissed.” Two of the other members of the court scurried to his side and helped heave him to his feet. Quickly getting him out of the room. 

“I’m sorry you all had to see that. There are many things I will tolerate but comments like that are not one of them.” Eris said to those remaining from his court. All of them nodded along, not fear but appreciation in their eyes. I felt my heart soften at his words. Beron would have let a comment like that slide, maybe even agreed with it. It would take a while, old habits run deep but Eris would squash that old cruelty out of the Autumn court piece by piece. The thin line of determination in his face told me that much. He turned his attention to me “Are you all right?” He quietly asked me. The sound of silverware clinking against plates and light conversations filled the silence from moments ago. I nodded. 

“You didn’t have to do that, you know? It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” His mouth set into an unamused look, anger pinching his eyebrows.

“Sunbeam, I will not allow anyone to talk to…” he took a breath, about to say something but seemingly changed his mind. “I would do it again.” I knew he was telling the truth and thanked him for his kind words. 

The next few days passed too quickly. I spent the days in Eris’ presence, him waving me off when I apologized for keeping him from his duties. He assured me that making me feel as welcome as possible was a hundred percent part of his responsibilities. Both as a High Lord and a friend. Friend. I bristled at the word. Only a few more heated moments had passed throughout the days, and nothing like that night before dinner. I was wound tight and from the way his eyes kept flickering to my lips, I knew he was too. Everytime I would go to take things further, he would steal my hands or push away from me entirely. That same excuse said through gritted teeth. I didn't question it. If it happened it happened but being around him so much made it harder and harder to keep my thoughts at bay. 

This was one of those moments. I was supposed to leave the next morning and my hands were currently wrapped in Eris’ hair. My back pressed firmly against the door of his room. He peppered my neck with small bites that had my blood singing for him. I didn’t reach for his shirt this time, despite the need rushing through me. I instead went to the buttons on the front of my dress. Eris all but growled, “Gods you’ll be the death of me.” He groaned into my neck. I used my grip in his hair to pull his face back to mine. 

“Do you want me to?” I asked, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

“I would want nothing more darling but if you do, you won’t leave my bed in the morning.” He went back to kissing my neck and as he found that sweet spot right below my ear, I let the argument die on my tongue. If this was all I got from him, I would gladly take it. Regardless of how much more I wanted. 

I woke up in the morning with my lips still swollen from the rough kisses the night before. I didn’t need to look at my neck to know the angry red marks that would be faded by the time I left. I sighed at the thought and curled deeper to my blankets. Shutting out the thoughts of leaving and the heaviness that creeped into my bones. 

Eris and I spent the day with his hounds. We walked around the forest, me chasing after them as he hung back, throwing sticks after them. We laughed until our lungs hurt and his pack walked between us with ease, slipping in and out between our legs like they had been doing it all their lives. 

It was finally time for me to leave. Helion was about to come to winnow me back to the Day Court. My bags had already been sent back. And I felt the disappointment on my face as he gave me one short kiss goodbye. As he pulled away from me it felt like the ground was being pulled from under me.

“Eris.” I called to his retreating form. When his eyes met mine it was like the air had been knocked out of my lungs. It shouldn’t be possible. I felt tears well up in my eyes. This could not be happening again. I had lost this chance when my bond with Azriel had been severed. Or had I? No one had ever gone as far as I had before. I didn’t just reject the bond. Helion had pulled it from my body, completely erased it for the both of us. Did that mean I got another chance? A small voice in the back of my head remembered those dreaded words. Maybe the cauldron gets it wrong. Could this be the cauldron making it right? Looking into those amber eyes, it felt right. In fact, nothing had ever felt so right before in my life. It was never like this with Azriel. He never loved me, was never going to love me. But Eris. Eris, who was always kind to me. Eris, who always greeted me first when he visited my old court during Hlyberns reign. It all made sense now. Everything had played out for this exact moment. I took a sharp inhale as I reached out through the bond, expecting that all too familiar coldness I had been greeted with all those years ago.

 Eris’ eyes snapped to mine as his body jolted. His mouth parted, words seeming to fail him. The other side of the bond was not in fact empty. But full of warmth and love. Love for me. We could do nothing but gape at each other as that thread, as golden as the leaves around us, grew thicker as it stretched between us. 

Tears welled in my eyes at the feeling. So much comfort and love running down the bond it almost pulled me to my knees. We both stumbled forward until our arms were wrapped around each other.

“I was so worried you would never feel it.” Eris spoke into the crown of my head. 

“When…”

“The moment I saw you at the ball. The first time I saw you after you cut your bond with him.” I squeezed him as tight as my arms would allow. “I didn’t know the depth of the magic Helion had used on you, I went to talk to him after to see if it was even possible and reading that book further, we realized it was.” I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. The sun reflecting off of them made them honey brown. He smiled at whatever emotion I accidentally sent down the bond. 

“I’m happy it’s you Eris.” He looked shocked. “If I had to go through all of this for it to be you, then it was worth it. Every second of it.” Tears of his own trailed down his face and I placed my head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.  “Don’t go. Stay here with me.” His voice reverberated deep in his chest. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now. But stay here, let me do this the right way. The way you deserved the first time.”  I could do nothing but blush and nod. My throat felt tight at all the feelings, mine and his. A breathtaking smile I had only seen him give me split across his face. My feet suddenly no longer on the ground as he picked me up. My skirt billowed out around me as he swung me lightly around, like he had on the dance floor that night. I squealed in delight and buried my face into his shoulder. Inhaling his deep earth and cinnamon scent and thanked the cauldron that it didn’t always get it right. The first time.

Copying over the people I tagged in the last one! I promise this is the last one I'll tag yall in unless you ask

@cleverzonkwombatsludge @myromanempiree @starsandsins @melmo567 @saltedcoffeescotch @daycourtofficial @anainkandpaper @leyannrae

#acomaf #acosf #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acowar #unrequited love #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris x oc #eris acotar #eris fluff #eris vandaddy #autumn court #a court of thorns and roses #sunbeam oc #mate!eris #high lord eris

[rise-my-angel]

'BuT NeD ThInKs PoSiTiVeLy Of RhAeGaR' Ned thinks of Rhaegar ONCE that he was a man unlikely to visit brothels. From this we can conclude that he was not a sex pest like Robert. How on earth does this inform of Ned's personal feelings though? Ned is comparing Robert and Rhaegar and thinking in factual terms. Its similar to how he thinks of Aerys killing his father and brother but not once does he express hatred against Aerys. But we do know what he would think of Aerys, its common sense. Even if we go by 'Lyanna was willing' idea, Lyanna still died because Rhaegar impregnated her at 15 and then left her imprisoned without proper healthcare. She died because of Rhaegar's actions. People who use this argument are usually those who don't understand Ned's character very clearly, he is a man who while suffering from ptsd, suppresses painful emotions and feelings.

Ned Stark is SO MUCH more complicated then those people will ever give him credit for. They are desperate to paint him as so easily black and white when he is the most "living in the grey area" man to literally ever exist. They also refuse to give any context to that scene.

Because it isn't really Rhaegar Neds thinking about in that scene, it's Jon. Ned is in a brothel looking for one of Roberts many bastards, and connecting Robert to Lyanna to Rhaegar he wonders if Rhaegar was like Robert in that sense. The question Ned is really asking, is if there is a possibility that there are more people out there like Jon. He's asking himself if he's sure that Jon is alone and comes to the conclusion that yes, Rhaegar probably didn't sleep around like Robert and this comes to the conclusion that the only secret child of Rhaegars is in fact, still Jon.

But it's like you said, Ned strongly buries his true emotions deep down. He is a very traumatized man who has never truly gotten past the point in his life where his sister died in front of him. Ned is still trapped in that room and the haunting smell of blood and roses. Ned was described as catatonic for a while after Lyanna died and he never truly came out of that emotionally. He keeps everything inside very deeply and is utterly haunted with that upcoming trauma once the main story starts. His every action in Kings Landing is rooted in that trauma of what happened to Lyanna and the deep fear of what will happen to Jon. Everything he does in Kings Landing is about that, Neds priority in the story, is Jon. That dicates everything he does in the main plot because he is deeply traumatized and terrifed of what will happen to his son.

There's even a strong argument to be made that had Robert never come to Winterfell and involved the Starks directly within the dealings of the Crown, that Ned wouldn't ever have let Jon join the Nights Watch. That agree or disagree with letting him, that a big reason he allows it, is out of the fear of Jon being anywhere near the people Ned's spent Jons entire life protecting him from. That Ned would rather Jon be in the Nights Watch, then hunted down and murdered by Robert.

Ned the entire story and half of his life has been burying very deeply rooted trauma of what happened to Lyanna, and has been motivated that same time to put Jon as one of his biggest priorities right up until his death. But because he keeps this all buried deep inside, its easy for people, mostly Rhaegar defenders, to paint him as black and white, a bad father, a mindless soldier with no autonomy outside of Robert, a selfish man.

Ned Stark is one of the best written characters in recent literature, theres a reason he's still remembered and talked about to this day, and it is certainly not because he is as black and white as Rhaegar stans desperately try to slander him as.

#if i asked a random person what series is ned stark from #theyd probably be able to at least say game of thrones #if i asked a random person what series rhaegar targaryean is from #id bet most random people couldnt tell me or at best would make a lucky guess #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #ned stark #eddard stark #anti rhaegar targaryen #anti rhaegar x lyanna #anti rhaegar stans #anti targ stans #anti targaryen

[cryptocism]

I love the comic book writing sensibility that Frequency has, like how Three and Five's ending is great for the story being told but if it were a published comic it would still leave them on the table for if a future writer wanted to use them.

whats funny is that despite doing my best to keep in line with dc comics/comic writing sensibilities throughout the fic (staying as comics-accurate as possible in terms of continuity/tone/characterization/story elements etc) that particular comic writing reality was one that was like. kind of a genuine anxiety that i didn't know i had until i started writing this thing.

ive said before that in the original concept for Frequency all of the clones (besides Thad) were going to end up dead. whether it was via killing each other or unintentionally being the instrument of their own demise (disney villain style). obviously it changed because creating an entire narrative about this one character's redemption arc and then not allowing any of the other villains to have a shot at redemption felt hypocritical and like. mean. not to mention antithetical to the whole ethos of the story.

but the reason why killing off all the other clones was my first instinct is partially because i had this kinda subconscious recoil to the idea that any of them would actually continue on after the story was over.

like, because i was trying to stick to canon so much, while figuring out the story a thought came up a couple times that basically went like, "okay, well, if this was a real comic, then...". and inevitably i had a realization that if this WAS a real comic, my original clone characters would be canonized, and therefore available to any future writer who wanted to yank them out of their respective endgames and inject them into other stories. which i Did Not Like the Idea Of.

classic "making up a guy to get mad at" except it was more "making up a reality to get anxious about". because obviously no matter how much it sticks to canon, Frequency still exists in a fan-created space.

but! i'd never made up original characters to put in my own fanmade stuff before and was definitely feeling protective. because all those original clones i made had yknow: a story purpose and narrative function to facilitate the actual key characters, Thad and Bart. the idea of them being removed from that context in any capacity, even if it was in the hands of a good writer, made me have this gut "no STOP you're ruining it!!!!" reaction.

they were all made for Frequency, and to foil Thad as a character, i didnt like the idea of Three being brought back as a one-note villain or Jude and Nathaniel getting folded into the wider Flash cast of allies. and none of them were made to be main character material. plus the character roster at DC is already uhh Extremely Stacked i genuinely did not want the takeaway to be "and here's the nEW ADDITIONS TO THE FLASH FAMILY!" because that wasnt the intention

anyway i got over it lol. i still did my best not to leave any loose ends, and have each ending be wholly satisfying on its own, and ideally the oc clones basically continue on offscreen while the true adventures are based around Thad and Bart. but yeah it felt right to leave off on that note (and served the story much better than killing everybody off)

#duke-nitro #asks #realizing that i felt kinda defensive about Literally The Hypothetical Nonexistent Possibility of other ppl writing my characters... wild #like genuinely very surprising i did not think i was that precious about original characters #especially OCs created for an existing universe that i did not also make up #what probably helped was all the cool fanart i kept seeing of frequency #and seeing other people make their own AUs either based directly off of Frequency “lore” or based on the Multiple Clone AU #u gotta realize when you're taking your fun machine too seriously #like chill its fun dude we're just playing in the space #otherwise u end up committing to stuff that would ruin the story ie killing all your original characters #to safeguard against the hypothetical nonexistent possibility of other people writing those characters #''oh you'd rather smother your baby than see it raised by someone else? #well my name is solomon and i have a sword with an innovative solution to your paternity problem'' #anyway thank you yeah i think it worked out

[uncanny-tranny]

Honestly, attachment to sex rather than gender as a social construction won't create a utopia without the subjugation of one's presentation, background, or experience from existing. Recognizing that sex and gender are both socially constructed and while they sometimes inform one another, they won't always, and that trans people absolutely can attest to this and are integral to making change for a better world are insurmountably important. If your desire for a "better world" coincidentally doesn't include us, what you desire isn't a better world where people are free - it is subjugation by a different name.

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #and this is why i stopped really buying into the odea that abolishing gender alone would save us #because people still believe that sex is this Divine thing that Never Ever Is Influenced Or Is Seen Socially As Anything... #...that whatever is seen as 'right' by societal standards is inherently true... #... it's the idea that a person existing is simultaneously natural AND unnatural only in context with what /everybody else/ thinks.. #i just find that people are super enthusiastic about obtaining a utopia for them that just ~coincidentally~ will naturally exclude transness #like 'without gender you trans people wont NEED to exist 🥺🥹' and it just shows that you don't WANT a better world. #what you WANT is a hierarchy where you are naturally ordained at the top #at best it shows a lack of understanding of the trans perspective and at worst appears genocidal #exactly HOW will you prevent us from existing? because closing your ears and going 'lalala you don't exist!' obviously hasn't cut it #offtopic completely but i am watching my spotify wrapped and what the fuck #why the Fuck did i listen to time warp 314 times (i Know Why) #i am shocked that weezer wasn't in the top fove artists. i am thankful too

[magentagalaxies]

.

#this might be both oversharing and being too vague rn but it's 2am and i'm emotionally exhausted #i can't believe during one of the most traumatic moments i've had in the past year i was lucky enough to have scott as my biggest supporter #the entire time as i was going through it he was so supportive giving me space to process shit and always having my back #and yet there are some people in my life who are always going to villainize him for one comment he said during that time out of context #or even if they're not ''villainizing'' him i now feel like i have to begin every sentence about scott with #''yeah we don't agree on everything but we're still friends and isn't that amazing!'' #which yeah that is true and i do genuinely enjoy when scott and i disagree and are respectful about it #BUT WHY DOES THAT HAVE TO BE THE FIRST THING I SAY ABOUT HIM???? #and honestly that whole experience made me agree with scott on way more than i started out with #i'm proud of how i was able to grow as a person and for the fact that it brought me and scott much closer together #but that shit i went through at my college was still traumatic. and it did change me as a person #it completely changed my relationship to activism in a way i'm not happy about bc i want to be more of an activist #but when i had someone use social justice language to justify horrible things against me it's hard not to be wary #of how hollow and performative a lot of conversations can be #and like i'll even say it. like people might get mad at me for admitting it #but that whole traumatic situation has irrevocably changed my relationship to gender as well #or at least how i label myself and how i move through these conversations #and in some ways i'm grateful for it bc i do feel like i know myself more and like i don't have to worry about what others' think #or even what other people understand #but it shouldn't have had to go down like that. and as much as the time i got to spend with scott during that time was so much fun #and such a great experience and he was truly the perfect support system during that time #he shouldn't have had to deal with that and neither should i #and the fact that scott somehow got villainized in some people's minds while the person who actually caused that trauma #is instead treated like ''yeah he was a bit misguided and made a mistake but he was probably anxious about it!! he's just a person!!'' #that's never going to stop being painful. especially the idea that with the importance people put on labels #i would supposedly have more ''community solidarity'' with that asshole than a cis gay man like scott #idk i think i'm past the timeframe of that traumatic experience bc it's not consuming every day like it used to a few weeks back #but something triggered it tonight so i just need to process it. anyway shoutout to scott for being there for me i really needed it

[k1rishiki]

The Tiktokers Are Saying That Romeo And Cinderella Is About Grooming

#HELLO???? NO IT FUCKING ISN'T??????? don't f w me when it comes to romeo and cinderella i'm literally named after that shit #inb4 i also know more abt grooming than the average tiktoker bc i was Literally In The Situation They Say Happened In The Song #ie. groomed by an older teenager when i was 13-14 #the entire claim is based around a. the romeo and juliet metaphor and a random ass claim about romeo's age (he doesn't have one but is. #based on context clues. two years older than her tops). and even if it was true r&j still wouldn't be abt grooming bc that would require it #writer to view the relationship as such. which shakespeare obv didn't. + it's not literally about r&j it's abt a teen girl comparing her #relationship to famous love stories and the pop cultural perception of them. b. the bit abt her parents not liking her 'romeo' when like #there are half a million reasons someone's parents could disapprove of their relationship that don't involve an age gap. also the parents #are shown to be v overbearing throughout the song so like . if anyone is mistreating her it's them. c. any of the various childlike #references. she's a teenager reaching for the adult world while still experiencing childlike naivete. this is to emphasize that. it doesn't #mean that she's secretly younger or anything. d. the school uniform line. she means that she's willing to run away at a moment's notice #without looking back home to go get her real clothes so that her parents could have the chance to stop her. it's a statement of devotion an #there's nothing to imply that romeo isn't also dressed in a school uniform. e. the you'll hate me line. a major part of the song is her #internal conflict of having to choose between her parents and romeo. her concern isn't based on the idea that if she does something wrong #romeo will hate her it's based on the fear that her indecision will hurt romeo's feelings. which is seen again in me and juliet. the #official sequel song. which is about how after they run away together she becomes overwhelmed by her internal conflict bc it didn't just go #away after she made her choice and she still loves her parents enough to question it. and finally f. the wolf line. which is about her #indecision. it's about her indecision. if romeo doesn't whisk her away quickly enough while she's leaning in that direction she feels she'l #have more time to doubt herself and it'll eat her up inside. it's a common metaphor babes and it's LITERALLY WHAT THE SEQUEL SONG IS ABOUT #romeo.txt

[kirbyddd]

i forgot ocarina of time is just. so. gooood

like i sat down feeling miserable thinking id just try a bit of the deku tree, ended up playing like an hour and a half all the way through meeting zelda, the longest ive been able to play anything in weeks

it's gotta remind you every time why it defined a generation

#i hadnt played since like 2011 #AND THE RUMBLE?????!?!??!???? perfection #I'd never played with rumble before i had no idea it even supported it #beautiful #and playing again now having played so many top action/adventure rpgs from before and around its time #man i can feel the leap in bringing the world to life. it still stokes the imagination to this day #it took far more pages from the book of western crpgs than i realized. it's wonderful seeing the ways it toys with traditional concepts #something familiar and yet altogether new #what a masterpiece #im so used to thinking about it in context of the zelda series #finally returning to the primary source material im suddenly experiencing it in a wider context of the game design of the era in general #rediscovering its truly staggering impact once again #cheers OoT. youre still a crown jewel of the video game canon. #a true essential experience i could recommend to everyone at some point in their life

[mask131]

The truth about Medusa and her rape... Mythology breakdown time!

With the recent release of the Percy Jackson television series, Tumblr is bursting with mythological posts, and the apparition of Medusa the Gorgon has been the object of numerous talks throughout this website… Including more and more spreading of misinformation, and more debates about what is the “true” version of Medusa’s backstory.

Already let us make that clear: the idea that Medusa was actually “blessed” or “gifted” by Athena her petrifying gaze/snake-hair curse is to my knowledge not at all part of the Antique world. I still do not know exactly where this comes from, but I am aware of no Greek or Roman texts that talked about this – so it seems definitively a modern invention. After all, the figure of Medusa and her entire myth has been taken part, reinterpreted and modified by numerous modern women, feminist activist, feminist movements or artists engaged in the topic of women’s life and social conditions – most notably Medusa becoming the “symbol of raped women’ wrath and fury”. It is an interesting reading and a fascinating update of the ancient texts, and it is a worthy take on its own time and context – but today we are not talking about the posterity, reinvention and continuity of Medusa as a myth and a symbol. I want to clarify some points about the ACTUAL myth or legend of Medusa – the original tale, as told by the Greeks and then by the Romans.

Most specifically the question: Was Medusa raped?

Step 1: Yes, but no.

The backstory of Medusa you will find very often today, ranging from mythology manuals (vulgarization manuals of course) to Youtube videos, goes as such: Medusa was a priestess of Athena who got raped by Poseidon while in Athena’s temple, and as a result of this, Athena punished Medusa by turning her into the monstrous Gorgon.

Some will go even further claiming Athena’s “curse” wasn’t a punishment but a “gift” or blessing – and again, I don’t know where this comes from and nobody seems to be able to give me any reliable source for that, so… Let’s put this out of there.

Now this backstory – famous and popular enough to get into Riodan’s book series for example – is partially true. There are some elements here very wrong – and by wrong I do mean wrong.

The story of Medusa being raped and turned into a monster due to being raped does indeed exist, and it is the most famous and widespread of all the Medusa stories, the one people remembered for the longest time and wrote and illustrated the most about. Hence why Medusa became in the 20th century this very important cultural symbol tied to rape and the abuse of women and victim-blaming. HOWEVER – the origin of this story is Ovid’s Metamorphoses, from the first century CE or so. Ovid? A Roman poet writing for Roman people. “Metamorphoses”? One of the two fundamental works of Roman literature and one of the two main texts of Roman mythology, alongside Virgil’s Aeneid. This is a purely Roman story belonging to the Roman culture – and not the Greek one. The story of Medusa’s rape does not have Greek precedents to my knowledge, Ovid introduced the element of rape – which is no surprise given Ovid turned half of the romances of Greek mythology into rapes. Note that, on top of all this, Ovid wasn’t even writing for religious purposes, nor was his text an actual mythological effort – he wrote it with pure literary intentions at heart. It is just a piece of poetry and literature taking inspiration from the legends of the Greek world, not some sort of sacred text.

Second big point: The legend I summarized above? It isn’t even the story Ovid wrote, since there are a lot of elements that do not come from Ovid’s retelling of the story (book fourth of the Metamorphoses). For example Ovid never said Medusa was a priestess of Athena – all he said was that she was raped in the temple of Athena. I shouldn’t even be writing Athena since again, this is a Roman text: we are speaking of Minerva here, and of Neptune, not of Athena or Poseidon. Similarly, Minerva’s curse did not involve the petrifying gaze – rather all Ovid wrote about was that Minerva turned Medusa’s hair into snakes, to “punish” her because her hair were very beautiful, and it was what made her have many suitors (none of which she wanted to marry apparently), and it is also implied it is what made Neptune fall in love (or rather fall in lust) with her. I guess it is from this detail that the reading of “Athena’s curse was a gift” comes from – even though this story also clearly does victim-blaming of rape here.

But what is very fascinating is that… we are not definitively sure Neptune raped Medusa in Ovid’s retelling. For sure, the terms used by Ovid in his fourth book of Metamorphoses are clear: this was an action of violating, sexually assaulting, of soiling and corrupting, we are talking about rape. But Ovid refers several other times to Medusa in his other books, sometimes adding details the fourth-book stories does not have (the sixth book for examples evokes how Neptune turned into a bird to seduce Medusa, which is completely absent from the fourth book’s retelling of Medusa’ curse). And in all those other mentions, the terms to designate the relationship between Medusa and Neptune are more ambiguous, evoking seduction and romance rather than physical or sexual assault. (It does not help that Ovid has an habit of constantly confusing consensual and non-consensual sex in his poems, meaning that a rape in one book can turn into a romance in another, or reversal)

But the latter fact makes more sense when you recall that the rape element was invented and added by Ovid. Before, yes Poseidon and Medusa loved each other, but it was a pure romance, or at least a consensual one-night. Heck, if we go back to the oldest records of the love between Poseidon and Medusa, back in Hesiod’s Theogony, we have descriptions of the two of them laying together in a beautiful, flowery meadow – a stereotypical scene of pastoral romances – with no mention of any brutality or violence of any sort. As a result, it makes sense the original “romantic” story would still “leak” or cast a shadow over Ovid’s reinvented and slightly-confused tale.

Step 2: So… no rape?

Well, if we go by Greek texts, no, apparently Medusa was not raped in Greek mythology, and only became a rape victim through Ovid.

The Ancient Greek texts all record Poseidon and Medusa sleeping with each other and having children, but no mention of rape. And the whole “curse of Athena” thing is not present in the oldest records – no temple of Athena soiling, no angry Athena cursing a poor girl… “No curse?” you say “But then how did Medusa got turned into a Gorgon”? Answer: she did not. She was born like that.

As I said before, the oldest record of Medusa’s romance but also of her family comes from Hesiod’s Theogony (Hesiod being one of the two “founding authors” of Greek mythology, alongside Homer – Homer did wrote several times about Medusa, but only as a disembodied head and as a monster already dead, so we don’t have any information about her life). And what do we learn? That Medusa is part of a set of three sisters known as the Gorgons – because oh yes, Ovid did not mention Medusa’s sister now did he? How did Medusa’s sisters ALSO got snake-hair or petrifying-gaze if only Medusa was cursed for sleeping with Neptune? Ovid does not give us any answer because again, it is an “adaptational plot hole”, and the people that try to adapt Ovid’s story have to deal with the slight problem of Stheno and Euryale needing to share their sister’s curse despite seemingly not being involved in the whole Neptune business. Anyway, back to the Greek text.

So, you have those three Gorgon sisters, and Medusa is said to be mortal while her sisters are not. Why is it such a big deal? Because Medusa wasn’t originally some random human or priestess. Oh no! Who were the Gorgons’ parents? Phorcys and Keto/Ceto, aka two sea-gods. Not just two sea-gods – two sea-gods of the ancient, primordial generation of sea-gods, the one that predated Poseidon, and that were cousins to the Titans, the sea-gods born of Gaia mating with Pontos.

So the Gorgons were “divine” of nature – and this is why Medusa being a mortal was considered to be a MASSIVE problem and handicap for her, an abnormal thing for the daughter of two deities. But let’s dig a bit further… Who were Phorcys and Ceto? Long story short: in Greek mythology, they were considered to be sea-equivalents of Typhon and Gaia. They were the parents of many monsters and many sea-horrors: Keto/Ceto herself had her name attributed and equated with any very large creature (like whales) or any terrifying monster (like dragons) from the sea. The Gorgons themselves was a trio of monsters, but their sisters, that directly act as their double in the myth of Perseus? The Graiai – the monstrous trio of old women sharing one eye and one tooth. Hesiod also drops the fact that Ladon (the dragon that guarded the golden apples of the Hesperids), and Echidna (the snake-woman that mated with Typhon and became known as the “mother of monsters”) were also children of Phorcys and Ceto, while other authors will add other monster-related characters such as Scylla (of Charybdis and Scylla fame), the sirens, or Thoosa (the mother of Polyphemus the cyclop). Medusa herself is technically a “mother of monsters” since she birthed both Pegasus the flying horse and Chrysaor, a giant. So here is something very important to get: Medusa, and the Gorgons, were part of a family of monsters. Couple that with the absence of any mention of curses in these ancient texts, and everything is clear.

Originally Medusa was not a woman cursed to become a monster: she was born a monster, part of a group of monster siblings, birthed by monster-creating deities, and she belonged to the world of the “primordial abominations from the sea”, and the pre-Olympian threats, the remnants of the primordial chaos. It is no surprise that the Gorgons were said to live at the edge of the very known world, in the last patch of land before the end of the universe – in the most inhuman, primitive and liminal area possible. They were full-on monsters!

Now you might ask why Poseidon would sleep with a horrible monster, especially when you recall that the Greeks loved to depict the Gorgons as truly bizarre and grotesque. It wasn’t just snake-hair and petrifying gaze: they had boar tusks, and metallic claws, and bloated eyes, and a long tongue that constantly hanged down their bearded chin, and very large heads – some very old depictions even show her with a female centaur body! In fact, the ancient texts imply that it wasn’t so much the Gorgon’s gaze or eyes that had the power to turn people into stone – but that rather the Gorgon was just so hideous and so terrifying to look at people froze in terror – and then literally turned into stone out of fear and disgust. We are talking Lovecraftian level of eldritch horror here. So why would Poseidon, an Olympian god, sleep with one of these horrors? Well… If you know your Poseidon it wouldn’t surprise you too much because Poseidon had a thing for monsters. As a sort of “dark double” of Zeus, whereas Zeus fell in love with beautiful princesses and noble queens and birthed great gods and brave heroes, Poseidon was more about getting freaky with all sorts of unusual and bizarre goddesses, and giving birth to bandits and monsters. A good chunk of the villains of Greek mythology were born out of Poseidon’s loins: Polyphemus, Antaios, Orion, Charybdis, the Aloads… And even his most benevolent offspring has freaky stuff about it – Proteus the shapeshifter or Triton half-man half-fish… So yes, Poseidon sleeping with an abominable Gorgon is not so much out of character.

Step 3: The missing link

Now that we established what Medusa started out as, and what she ended up as… We need to evoke the evolution from point Hesiod to point Ovid, because while people summarized the Medusa debate as “Sea-born monster VS raped and punished woman”, there is a third element needed to understand this whole situation…

Yes Ovid did invent the rape. But he did not invent the idea that Medusa had been cursed by Athena.

The “gorgoneion” – the visual and artistic motif of the Gorgon’s head – was, as I said, a grotesque and monstrous face used to invoke fright into the enemies or to repel any vile influence or wicked spirit by the principle of “What’s the best way to repel bad stuff? Badder stuff”. Your Gorgon was your gargoyle, with all the hideous traits I described before – represented in front (unlike all the other side-portraits of gods and heroes), with the face being very large and flat, a big tongue out of a tusked-mouth, snake-hair, bulging crazy eyes, sometimes a beard or scales… Pure monster. But then… from the fifth century BCE to the second century BCE we see a slow evolution of the “gorgoneion” in art. Slowly the grotesque elements disappear, and the Gorgon’s face becomes… a regular, human face. Even more: it even becomes a pretty woman’s face! But with snakes instead of hair. As such, the idea that Medusa was a gorgeous woman who just had snakes and cursed-eyes DOES come from Ancient Greece – and existed well before Ovid wrote his rape story.

But what was the reason behind this change?

Well, we have to look at the Roman era again. Ovid’s tale of Medusa being cursed for her rape at the hands of Neptune had to rival with another record collected by a Greek author Apollodorus, or Pseudo-Apollodorus, in his Bibliotheca. In this collection of Greek myths, Apollodorus writes that indeed, Medusa was cursed by Athena to have her beautiful hair that seduced everybody be turned into snakes… But it wasn’t because of any rape or forbidden romance, no. It was just because Medusa was a very vain woman who liked to brag about her beauty and hair – and had the foolish idea of saying her hair looked better than Athena’s. (If you recall tales such as Arachne’s or the Judgement of Paris, you will know that despite Athena being wise and clever, one of her main flaws is her vanity).

“Wait a minute,” you are going to tell me, “The Bibliotheca was created in the second century CE! Well after Greece became part of the Roman Empire, and after Ovid’s Metamorphoses became a huge success! It isn’t a true Greek myth, it is just Ovid’s tale being projected here…” And people did agree for a time… Until it was discovered, in the scholias placed around the texts of Apollonios of Rhodes, that an author of the fifth century BCE named Pherecyde HAD recorded in his time a version of Medusa’s legend where she had been cursed into becoming an ugly monster as punishment for her vanity. We apparently do not have the original text of Pherecyde, but the many scholias referring to this lost piece are very clear about this. This means that the story that Apollodorus recorded isn’t a “novelty”, but rather the latest record of an older tradition going back to the fifth century BCE… THE SAME CENTURY THAT THE GORGONEION STARTED LOSING THEIR GROTESQUE, and that the face of Medusa started becoming more human in art.

[EDIT: I also forgot to add that this evolution of Medusa is also proved by strange literary elements, such as Pindar's mention in a poem of his (around 490 BCE) of "fair-cheeked Medusa". A description which seems strange given how Medusa used to be depicted as the epitome of ugliness... But that makes sense if the "cursed beauty" version of the myth had been going around at the time!]

And thus it is all connected and explained. Ovid did invent the rape yes – but he did not invent the idea of Athena cursing Medusa. It pre-existed as the most “recent” and dominating legend in Ancient Greece, having overshadowed by Ovid’s time the oldest Hesiodic records of Medusa being born a monster. So what Ovid did wasn’t completely create a new story out of nowhere, but twist the Greek traditions of Athena cursing Medusa and Medusa having a relationship with Poseidon, so that the two legends would form one and same story. And this explains in retrospect why Ovid focuses so much on describing Medusa’s beautiful hair, and why Ovid’s Minerva would think turning her hair into snake would be a “punishment fit for the crime”: these are leftovers of the Greek tale where Medusa was punished for her boasting and her vanity.

CONCLUSION

Here is the simplified chronology of how Medusa’s evolution went.

A) Primitive Greek myths, Hesiodic tradition: Born a monster out of a family of sea-monsters and monstrous immortals. Is a grotesque, gargoylesque, eldritch abomination. Athena has only an indirect conflict with her, due to being Perseus’ “fairy godmother”. Has a lovely romance with Poseidon.

B) Slow evolution throughout Classical Greece and further: Medusa becomes a beautiful, human-looking girl that was cursed to have snake for hair and petrifying eyes, instead of being a Lovecraftian horror people could not gaze upon. Her conflict with Athena becomes direct, as it is Athena that cursed her due to being offended by her vain boasting. Her punishment is for her vanity and arrogant comparison to the goddess.

C) Ovid comes in: Medusa’s romance with Poseidon becomes a rape, and she is now punished for having been raped inside Athena’s temple.

[As a final note, I want to insist upon the fact that the story of Medusa being raped is not less "worthy" than any other version of the myth. Due to its enormous popularity, how it shaped the figure of Medusa throughout the centuries, and how it still survives today and echoes current-day problems, to try to deny the valid place of this story in the world of myths and legends would be foolish. HOWEVER it is important to place back things in their context, to recognize that it is not the ONLY tale of Medusa, that it was NOT part of Greek mythology, but rather of Roman legends - and let us all always remember this time Poseidon slept with a Lovecraftian horror because my guy is kinky.]

EDIT:

For illustration, I will place here visuals showing how the Ancient art evolved alongside Medusa's story.

Before the 5th century BCE: Medusa is a full-on monster

From the 5th century to the 2nd century BCE: A slow evolution as Medusa goes from a full-on monster to a human turned into a monster. As a result the two depictions of the grotesque and beautiful gorgoneion coexist.

Post 2nd century BCE: Medusa is now a human with snake hair, and just that

#greek mythology #medusa #gorgon #athena #gorgons #poseidon #neptune #minerva #ovid #rape in mythology #greek monsters #roman mythology

[cinnamonest]

I'm not looking to start shit so I'm not linking it or anything, but you may have seen a recent anti-dark-content post circulating with a lot of notes making rounds in the x reader sphere and while I have nothing against people posting their feelings in their own private spaces, every time I see these kinds of posts there's a lot of misinformation that gets regurgitated in the reblogs/replies and I saw what looked like a battlezone in the replies, so.

I know posts like that can be very jarring and affects people like my readers, so to combat misinformation/shaming for anyone who saw it, I'm going to share some of my information on combatting fandom puritanism/misogyny/kinkshaming in its most common forms.

The most important fact, if you read nothing else, is this:

Most women have rape fantasies.

62% to be exact. I think the most pervasive myth on this content is that consumers are "weird" for it, when the numbers don't indicate that. You're in the majority!

The vast majority of people who have rape fantasies do not put them into practice in real life. A variety of factors can determine whether or not they do, particularly specific psychiatric disorders. (X)

To specifically address common harmful and pervasive myths:

the "go to therapy!" line

Generally any academic or professional resource will immediately tell you that consuming and engaging in "dark" fantasies is accepted and encouraged by mainstream psychiatry and part of the professional education for psychiatrists. (This also used to be pretty well-known until like the last 5 years or so, not sure why that changed.)

Here are some particularly insightful resources:

1) This article by Dr. David Wahl, in my opinion, hands-down does the best job of simply and thoroughly explaining why these fantasies occur and why couples practice CNC, as well as the fact that they are both harmless, psychologically beneficial to those with them, and not at all correlated to real-life rape.

2) Dr. Claudia Six has some of the best and most thorough material out there on the subject, specifically explaining why this is taught in mainstream academia psychology and how it is incredibly helpful to rape victims (X).

3) Lisa Diamond is a professional who focuses on this subject a lot, and was featured in the documentary "The Dilemma of Desire," in which she specifically focuses on how these fantasies are not correlated to real-life desires. (X)

4) Dr. Casey Lyle has specifically talked a lot on his socials about how fantasies, even in men/the perspective of the offender, do not correlate to actual risk of offending.

5) This article is not by a professional, but from the perspective of a survivor discussing how it is beneficial to survivors.

the "why would you want that?" line

The idea that fictional tastes = what you want to happen to you in real life is actually of misogynistic origin. I don't want to seek out or add links on this one, but if you're really curious, you can research about how the idea that "women read rape fiction, that means they secretly want rape!" was originally a classic "red pill"/MGTOW/4chan talking point that made its way into mainstream dialogue and thus the public mind in the last 15 years or so due to the incel epidemic popularizing those communities.

the "it's only valid for survivors then!" line

On one hand, yes it's very important to acknowledge that trauma victims use it to cope, however I feel that over-emphasizing that gives the impression that non-victims should be excluded from consumption of dark content, so to clarify, it's a very valid means for all women. Many women who have not personally experienced rape still fantasize about it, and that's fine.

The full explanation as to why this is true for many of them would be lengthy (and addressed in the aforementioned Dilemma of Desire documentary), but in the simplest terms, nonconsensual sex is the only context in which patriarchal society permits women to have sex at all without feeling guilt. For many women, particularly those in more heavily misogynistic or religious cultures, these fantasies are appealing because the idea of consensual sex may give them feelings of shame, guilt, "sin," etc. These fantasies allow them to experience the feeling of being desired without guilt of participation.

No society on earth is free of the psychological grip that cultural misogyny has on women, and shaming women for adapting to the conditions they are forced to exist under is as harmful as the misogyny that causes it itself.

ALL women experience a form of psychological trauma inherent to female childhood and female adolescence in a patriarchal world, and that is just as valid as coping with individual traumatic events.

Good resources on the subject of why women have these fantasies and how they are helpful in general:

(X) (X)

The "what you consume will make you do it in real life!" myth

Although the resources above already address this, it's important to establish why this myth is so prevalent and what its origins are.

The idea that consuming media with dark themes leads to or indicates desires to replicate those acts is a residual element of two major events:

1) Puritan revival culture, popularized in the US and UK in the 90s and 2000s (also known as "Satanic Panic"). A major facet of this movement was TV megachurch preachers making money off of exploiting well-meaning but paranoid parents into believing that your child playing Dungeons and Dragons or Pokemon would make them future serial killers and lure them into satanic cults. (X)

2) at the tail end of this, it was cemented in the public mind as a cultural ripple aftershock of the Columbine shooting, where this sentiment became popularized as the general public blamed violent video games like Doom and "dark" music like Marilyn Manson (whose life was temporarily completely upended by the events and took him years to recover/be safe from) for the 1999 shooting. This event had MASSIVE permanent and global effects in all sorts of ways that the public often underestimates the sheer scope of, notably that it solidified, prolonged, and, in the minds of many, "proved" the paranoias of the preexisting Satanic Panic. (X) This established a precedent, leading to virtually any major horrible event being blamed on the perpetrator's media consumption, including murder and sex crimes.

What this myth ignores in the cases it references (the slenderman stabbings, columbine, sasebo slashing, batman shooting, etc) is two crucial facts: that hundreds of millions of people consume the same media with no negative effects (helpful effects even), and that in every single case cited as "evidence" to the claim, the perpetrator had a preexisting psychiatric condition correlated to acts of violence (which usually went ignored, downplayed and even accelerated/worsened by those around them rather than the help they needed).

Sorry for the wall of text, but I feel an ethical obligation to combat this kind of misinformation, and I hope these resources are helpful for those who may be negatively affected by common misunderstandings.

You are not abnormal or wrong for the fictional content you consume or the fantasies you have!

#im very passionate about this because this sort of thing severely affected younger me #and i dont want that for anyone else! #love yall

[thebibliosphere]

Sorry for being weird on your post, but has any East Asian person gotten upset about your allergy? Hopefully you were gracious and civil and not a racist about that. There’s been pseudoscience regarding MSG and East Asians have been wrongly slandered for it when a 7-11 hot dog has more msg than a pile of steamed dumplings from a takeout restaurant.

I had no idea what post you were talking about; I had to go look. No idea why that old post started circulating again, but thank you for the addition.

You're right; even though I didn't mention MSG anywhere in that post, there is a lot of pseudoscience around it, and it's heavily steeped in racism.

While I've never had anyone be mean to me about it (at least not once I've explained what MCAS is), it's still very frustrating if I mention being sensitive to MSG because people immediately assume I'm talking about East Asian foods when, as you rightly pointed out, there's more MSG in your average American hot dog. Not to mention pizza.

While I get very, very ill eating things like steamed dumplings (sadly, I used to love them!) I'm going to get equally ill from eating things like tomatoes and certain cheeses, which contain MSG naturally.

Trying to explain that latter part to some people really makes their heads explode, lol. Because, yeah, MSG occurs naturally! It's flavorful and not harmful -- it's just not good for histamine-sensitive people!

Unfortunately, MCAS/HIT awareness isn't great, so people assume their symptoms are because "MSG is bad" and not because they're sensitive to histamine. It sucks. I wish people were more aware.

This is why whenever I talk about MSG I'm mindful to frame it in the above context. MSG is a safe flavor enhancer that occurs naturally and that can make some people ill because it is a histamine liberator.

The same is true of yogurt, fresh fruits, vitamin C, and a whole host of other nutrient-dense, vital foods. It's the disorder that sucks, not the foods!

#chronic health tag #mcas

[ozzgin]

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere killer #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere serial killer #yandere original character #horror #split personality #tw yandere

[juliettedunn]

Nimona and the Myth of the Perfect Victim

Nimona is great at showcasing why “If you didn’t act so threatening people would stop being bigoted” doesn’t work. That idea has been rampant in social movements for so long, the concept that if oppressed people were just more passive with their wording, and never got angry or defensive, people wouldn’t have reason to oppress them.

When the village attacks her, Nimona doesn’t initially fight back, but tries to explain to them, showing them her “acceptable” form as a young girl.

But they don’t care that Nimona looks acceptable, they still know her for a shapeshifter and attack anyway. Then, when Nimona fights back with fangs and claws, Gloreth becomes convinced she is indeed a monster. Never mind the context of the provocation, Nimona looked scary, so is now a monster.

Far in the future, Nimona now doesn’t worry about looking respectable. Ballister tells them they should look like a girl, because it would be easier for to be accepted.

To many people, this would be valid reasoning - if Nimona assumes a non-threatening form, no one will be scared. But Nimona knows this isn’t true. If people catch sight of the shapeshifting even for a moment, it won’t matter that Nimona takes the form of a sweet, innocent girl. They will attack anyway.

And staying as a girl forever, never letting them see, is something she doesn’t see as an option. Other people might see it that way, that it is better to forever rigidly conceal their identity so they never once face any hatred, but as Nimona says, while it’s not true death, it sure isn’t living.

Earlier, Ballister was caught destroying the prison with Nimona, adding fuel to the idea of him as a villain, which he blames her for. But he was labeled as one anyway. Had Nimona not gotten him to wreak havoc, he would have remained in prison and never seen as innocent.

While Ballister initially believes that Nimona is ridiculous to dramatically break standards of acceptability, he realizes that some people won’t accept Nimona even if she is “the perfect victim.”

We see this in real life, where even someone who is the epitome of moral decency will still eventually be targeted. Illusions to the contrary are disproven.

Of course the city screams and runs when Nimona transforms into a giant creature, but they screamed and ran when he turned into non-threatening creatures as well. So Nimona is driven to view it as not mattering which she does. Of course, in the end she chooses to help them anyway, and calm herself from her giant form, because Ballister shows her recognition while she is in it.

Ballister sees her in her most terrifying form and recognizes she is lashing out from fear and anger at the treatment she received. He doesn’t demand she stop and be more respectable, he sees them as they truly are and shows them understanding, and that is what calms Nimona down.

There is no perfect victim. Everyone is messy and flawed and will lash out. If there were a perfect victim, it wouldn’t matter anyway. A perfect victim is one who never dares raise an arm against attack, even out of desperate self defense. Nimona would be a perfect victim if she had laid down and succumbed to the pitchforks. Ballister would be a perfect victim if he sat in prison to rot.

A “perfect victim” will always die before being being recognized as such, because the only true acceptable way for a marginalized person to exist is to be dead.

#nimona #nimona movie #ballister boldheart #nimona spoilers

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: your best friend brags complains that he can't get laid due to his huge dick posing a threat to random girls at parties, so you offer to fix his little big problem pairing: soobin x reader genre: smut, best friends to lovers warnings: explicit language, big dick soobin (canon event), size kink, foreplay, eating out, blowjob, hugging, fingering, size training, creampie, consensual intercourse, kissing, aftercare, allusions to death in a sexual context, lowkey possessive soobin at the end author's note: the killa is on my mind 24/7 and im down bad for soobin 25/8 🥵 so i had to get it out of my system somehow 🤷 word count: 2k

“You’re kidding, right?” you ask your best friend when he makes a rather shocking confession as the two of you are sitting in his bedroom after one of your usual anime marathons.

“I wish I was. But I would never lie to you,” Soobin responds truthfully. His big moist eyes look a 100% genuine but it still sounds so...bizarre.

“Let me get this straight…Every time you try to hook up with a girl at one of those parties Yeonjun keep dragging you to, you go to a room, eat them out like the generous, selfless guy you are, and then after you take off your pants, they get scared by your gigantic cock and refuse to have sex, running away in horror?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to explain for the past 10 minutes, yeah,” Soobin confirms with a very adorable pout on his stupid face.

You shake your head in utter disbelief.

“I’m sorry but this is just ridiculous. Any girl would be happy to hook up with a guy that has a huge dick.”

“Well, I guess not any girl ‘cause this shit has happened three times already and I’m at my limit. Why can’t I just get laid?” Soobin bemoans his tragic destiny.

“No, I don’t get it. The least they could do is give you a quickie or something to return the favour. It’s so rude to just sprint away. I can’t believe your cock is that terrifying.”

“Ugh, please stop saying that. It’s so embarrassing,” Soobin covers his face behind his big hands. Hold on a minute…

“If what you’re saying is true, then I think it’s pretty hot. Those girls are surely missing out.”

“Or maybe they’re just looking after themselves. Like…I’m not mad at them for being spooked out, I just wish I could finally get some, you know?” Soobin sighs.

“Death by dick does seem appealing,” you shrug.

“Y/N!” he exclaims.

“Listen, what if I make you an offer? You prove to me that you weren’t exaggerating about your size and I promise I won’t run away and will take care of your…frustrations.”

“Are you seriously suggesting this?” Soobin freaks out. “This could ruin our friendship.”

“I won’t be weird about it, I swear. What do you say?”

“Fuck it. I’m so horny that this actually sounds like a good idea,” Soobin admits. “Can I eat you out first?”

“Erm, if you insist,” you reply, suddenly feeling nervous.

“I just wanna take care of you, make sure you’re all nice and wet for me,” Soobin explains patiently.

“You really don’t have to,” you reassure him.

“I know but it’d be awkward for me to just whip it out. Please?”

“Oh…okay,” you really can’t imagine saying no when he’s asking you so sweetly. God, what did you get yourself into?

Soobin takes off your leggings and panties in one swift movement and pushes you down gently on the bed so you are in a lying position. He spreads your thighs apart and looks at your pussy, already glistening with wetness caused by the conversation you’ve been having. Soobin smirks but doesn’t say anything about it. You’re grateful for that as he dives in, licking and kissing all over you. Fucking hell, if his tongue is capable of making you feel this way, you are slightly unnerved to find out what his cock can achieve. But unlike those girls at the parties, you are determined to never run away from your best friend.

Soon enough, you reach your high, overwhelmed by Soobin’s insane tongue movements and his big hands gripping your thighs. You need a few moments to gather your thoughts and when you are finally able to speak, those are the first words that leave your mouth:

“I think they fleed because you eat pussy like a starved animal. Seriously, what the hell was that?”

Soobin chuckles nervously and runs his fingers through his black hair, pushing it back and exposing his forehead for a bit.

“Trust me, it’s not that.”

“Prove it,” you challenge him even though you are fairly certain he’s telling the truth. Your best friend has never lied to you, so why start now?

Soobin takes off his pants, his hands are shaking and you immediately feel bad. You put your hand on his in an attempt to calm him down.

“Hey, you don’t have to if you feel uncomfortable.”

“I do want this, but after so many failed attempts, I’m so anxious…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Soobin,” you insist and squeeze his hand reassuringly.

His skin complexion looks slightly less pale and your words seem to give him the confidence he so desperately needs. Moment of truth. Soobin takes off his boxers and…Oh damn, he was not exaggerating. He’s not just big, he’s so huge a part of you wonders how is it humanly possible to carry such a weapon around and maintain the gentle, humble composure with which Soobin carries himself.

“You’re not running yet,” he jokes.

“Soob?”

“Y-yeah?” his voice cracks, he is obviously terrified of what you’re going to say.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, I finally get why these girls ran away.”

“Oh,” he sounds a little dejected, as if already expecting you to go back on your offer.

“But! That’s not gonna stop me. Just tell me what you want first and I’ll try my best to make you happy.”

“Huh?” Soobin is too flustered to process your words.

“My hands, my mouth, or my pussy, what do you want first?”

“You mean…you’re willing to give me all of them?” he blinks in shock.

This poor, precious boy. Did he really face disappointment so many times that he is now looking a gift horse in the mouth with such uncertainty?

“Just pick, Soobie, I promise I’ll give you anything you need.”

“Um…can you suck me off? Please?”

Gosh, he’s so adorable you want to eat him.

You nod a little too enthusiastically and go down on your knees, taking as much of his cock as you can. It’s a tight fit but what you can’t put inside your mouth you make up for by wrapping your hands around him. You suck and lick and touch him, eager to give him as much pleasure as he did you. Your beloved best friend has obviously been frustrated for a while now because it doesn’t take him long to cum inside your mouth. There is so much you can’t manage to swallow it all despite your valiant efforts and you see some of it falling down your cheeks. You wipe it off with a finger, sticking it into your mouth, grinning widely at Soobin.

“Fuck, you’re incredible. What…how…are you okay?”

He presses his big palm against your cheek and it takes a lot of self-control for you to not melt right there and then.

“I’m great. Did…did it feel good for you?” you ask sheepishly.

You’re not particularly confident about your skills but you genuinely did your best for him.

“Are you crazy? It felt insanely good,” Soobin takes your hand, lifting you up and wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

“I’m glad,” you respond, feeling safer and warmer than ever before in your life.

“Do…you still want to…you know?” Soobin asks.

“If you’re asking whether you can put your cock inside my pussy, then yeah, go for it. As long as it’s something you want, of course.”

You keep reminding him to only do things he’s completely okay with, because you would hate to put your best friend in a situation he doesn’t enjoy just because of your greed.

“I want you so bad, you have no idea. But I think I’ll need to stretch you out a bit, yeah?”

“O-okay,” you quickly agree and in no time, Soobin’s long fingers are inside of your pussy, going deeper than your own have ever been and making you feel things you never even dreamed about.

“How does it feel?” Soobin asks in concern.

“Heavenly,” you admit and just as you’re about to reach your second orgasm, Soobin’s fingers leave you.

“N-no, why’d you do that?” you whine frustratedly.

“Wanna feel you come around my cock.”

As it turns out, you'd like this just as much so you quickly forgive him for ruining your orgasm.

“I think I have a condom in my-“ Soobin starts but you cut him off.

“I’m taking a pill. And I believe we’re both clean, so…”

“You gon’ let me fuck you raw?” Soobin inquires, not wanting to make assumptions.

“Yeah, I trust you,” you reply with conviction.

“You’re a dream,” Soobin chuckles and nudges the head of his cock against your moist entrance. You brace yourself for some level of discomfort and are surprised that it doesn’t come right away. Soobin takes his sweet time getting inside you, making sure you’re okay.

“Fuck, Soob, you're so big,” you moan, already feeling overstimulated.

“This is just the tip, baby,” he explains shyly, which makes you lose your mind.

Soobin goes deeper very slowly, making you feel every inch, stretching you out bit by bit.

“How much more?” you ask somewhat impatiently.

“Just a little bit. Can’t help it that your pussy is so tiny,” he teases you.

“Not my fault your dick is so gigantic,” you bite right back.

“I promise, I'll try my best not to split you in half,” Soobin jokes, which does little to ease your worries, but at the same time only makes you wetter.

“Keep talking to me,” you plead for him.

“Does it hurt?” he wants to know, as he keeps entering you further.

“It’s a good kind of hurt,” you explain, wincing slightly.

Once you’ve gotten used to it, you signal to Soobin that he can start moving and he does just that, fucking into you with an impressive speed. You try to meet him halfway, lifting your hips up for him, melting into one.

“You’re taking it so well, my darling best friend,” Soobin praises you relentlessly.

“Anything for you, Soobie,” you cry out in sweet bliss.

“I’m close,” Soobin confesses soon enough.

“Fill me up,” you beg him, almost in a daze, deeply affected by his overpowering presence.

He doesn’t need to be asked twice and spills his seed inside of you. It feels so good that you cum with him, walls clenching around his enormous dick. Soobin leans down to kiss you, further blurring the lines between friendship and…whatever this is.

Then, he takes his cock out and you realize something far more terrifying than his intimidating size - you are falling in love with your best friend.

Soobin quickly brings a towel and a bottle of water, taking care of you like no one else before. You want to cry, touched by his sweetness and falling even further.

“How do you feel?” Soobin brushes a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I feel…like I'm on another planet,” you confess shakily.

Soobin chuckles, visibly relieved to hear that.

“You’re so cute,” he murmurs, enveloping you in a hug. His large frame towers over you and if it was anyone else, you’d probably feel slightly threatened. But this is Soobin, and even though he just fucked your brains out, you feel completely safe and protected. Safe enough to be honest about how you feel.

“I know I promised not to be weird about it but…I don’t think I can go back to being friends.”

Soobin pales for a moment, scared of losing you.

“Why not?” he blinks, barely restraining his tears.

“I wanna belong to you,” you try to ease his worries by openly saying what your heart and soul desire.

“Oh…But baby, you already do,” Soobin suddenly beams with excitement. “And I belong to you, too.”

“I think you killed me a little,” you laugh. “Killed my pussy with your big cock and ruined me for other men.”

Soobin raises an eyebrow.

“Bold of you to assume that I’d let other men near your pussy. You’re all mine now.”

The End

#txt #soobin #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #size k!nk #soobin x reader #soobin smut #soobin hard thoughts #soobin hard hours #txt imagines #soobin imagines #writing

[unbidden-yidden]

And just to follow up on that previous reblog without derailing it: a lot of the really weird relationships and discourse that exist out there in the neo-pagan, Satanist, and atheist communities are in fact echoes of the weird relationship that Xtianity has with Judaism.

Xtianity has a weird, tumultuous relationship with Judaism because they must simultaneously validate the Tanakh and the Jews who created it or else their own religion is devoid of context and built on a house of cards. But! If they validate Judaism, then they have to grapple with the fact that the Jews did not accept their interpretation of the Tanakh, that we still, against all odds, exist, and that because we still exist, we are still around to point out the ways in which the New Testament does not fit with the Tanakh and that the Tanakh does not inherently or naturally point to Jesus. And that's to say nothing of the bloody history of Xtianity towards Judaism. Our continued existence is a sore point and a weakness in the Xtian narrative that has been a constant source of irritation, frustration, and violence since the dawn of Xtianity. And, at the same time, there is a certain fascination with Judaism related to things that have been appropriated by Xtians or understood as particularly useful in spreading supercessionist ideas. So what you wind up with is a toxic mix of antisemitism and philosemitism (effectively fetishization and orientalism) that drives too many Xtians to "love" us by attacking our beliefs and way of life, and stealing whatever they think will be most helpful in their mission (especially as it pertains to Jews) in order to try and convert us.**

Many people who have also been hurt from inside of Xtianity or by the broader Xtian culture they live in seek to deconstruct those ideas by creating an inverse of Xtianity in one way or another. Those who turn to Satanism typically do this by worshipping the opposite force of the Xtian god. Those who turn to neo-paganism typically do this by embracing an unambiguously polytheistic religion and/or by turning to the cultural historical enemies of Xtianity. Those who turn to atheism typically do this by rejecting "God," "faith," and "organized religion" (as these concepts are understood by Xtian norms.)

And honestly? That's fine. If it helps, if it brings you meaning and joy, knock yourselves out. I have no problem with people turning to these beliefs for reasons of healing as well as simply being drawn to it. And for what it's worth, I did a similar thing by turning to Judaism. Obviously I had many other reasons for becoming a Jew as well, and I assume that's true for the aforementioned folks, too. Judaism healed a lot of Xtianity-shaped wounds for me, and if your paganism, Satanism, and/or atheism helps you in the same way as well as bringing you meaning, I sincerely wish you the best.

However, the problem is that many times, unless you turn to Judaism and learn our side of the story, it's very difficult to deconstruct the antisemitism of your past entanglement with Xtianity. Xtian antisemitism has permeated western society so thoroughly for so long that it is real *work* to identify and unlearn it. Those converting to Judaism have the benefit of the Jewish community and extensive educational resources to help. Other folks do not.

Here's the problem: if you simply invert Xtian ideas, you are still treating Xtianity as the baseline reality from which your other assumptions and beliefs flow. If you just choose the opposite at every chance, you divorce yourself from Xtianity, but not its prejudices.

Now you might fairly ask, "hey Avital, if we are making the opposite choice at every turn, wouldn't that invert the antisemitism to being at least neutral if not positive towards Judaism?" And that would be perfectly logical! But unfortunately deeply and (for us) dangerously incorrect.

The reason is because (1) antisemitism has never been rational but reactionary instead, (2) philosemitism is also bad, and (3) it is structured in a way that it's pretty much always "heads I win, tails you lose." Have you ever noticed that according to antisemites, Jews are both ultra-white and also dirty foreign middle eastern invaders? That we are supposedly very powerful and run the world, but are also weak and degenerate? That both the Right and the Left have extensive antisemitism problems? Etc.? There's a reason - it's because antisemitism is designed to other us no matter what. So oftentimes I see folks inverting Xtian philosemitism to being "those awful fundamentalist Old Testamenters" or inverting Xtian antisemitism to valorizing Judaism, but only to the extent that they can meme-ify our religion down to fighting God and/or being un-pious godless liberals.

But like other groups, we are a diverse and complicated group with a very long history and a lot of trauma to boot.

If you're trying to unpack your Xtian conditioning, please also unpack your antisemitism and philosemitism. If not for our sake and for it being the right thing to do, at least do it for yourselves, because unless you deconstruct that as well, you will still be operating within a really ugly aspect of a Xtian mindset.

(**Please note that this isn't literally all Xtians everywhere, but it is a lot of Xtians in most places and throughout most of history. There are absolutely Xtians who are good allies to Jews, but they are much smaller in number and are swimming upstream in their relationship to both Jews and Xtianity.)

[howtofightwrite]

Have you read GRRM books? He claims swords needed to be “especially designed for women’s hands” how true is this?

About as true as all of those, “girl guns.” Because, as you know, a woman cannot hold a Glock unless it's pink or sky blue. Which is to say, not even remotely true.

You might get a situation where a child would be unable to operate a weapon designed for adults because the grip is too cumbersome, but even this is going to be something of an outlier. Even years later the Nicholas Cage's line from Lord of War (2005) sticks with me, when describing the AK he narrates, “...so simple a child could use it, and they do.”

Just like basically any other common grip you encounter in your daily life, from screwdrivers to steering-wheels and cell phones, selling smaller, or more colorful ones, is strictly a marketing gimick.

Now, is a legitimate context, but it doesn't really have anything to do with the wielder's sex. If they had the money, the time, and the desire for a perfect grip, they might commission a smith to produce a grip specifically for their hand. Though, the only place I've ever come across this was in competitive fencing. I have seen cases where someone modifies their blade's grip with tape or other materials to better fit their hand, or the addition of a leather (usually shagreen) wrap over their grip, but even that is somewhat unusual. (Shagreen is leather from a shark or ray, and it grips the skin, making it easier to hold, especially when wet.)

Ironically, girl guns do illustrate the one case where have some weight: Weapons as fashion accessories.

I know I've complained about weapons (particularly handguns) as fashion accessories in previous posts, but the truth is that using weapons like this is not new behavior. In the early modern era, one of the ways the rising middle class liked to display their status was with a sidearm. (In this case, referring to a sidesword or, later, a rapier.) I've looked specifically into women carrying sidearms at that point in history, but it really would not surprise me in the least if they did, and if there were, that at least some of those swords were specifically designed to be more delicate and, “feminine,” per their owner's tastes. (Though, to be fair, a more delicate grip on a rapier would be fairly impressive, as the grips tend to be pretty thin.) This is a case where you might want to look into it further, if it really catches your interest, but I've never really run this down before.

If you're still dubious, feel free to wander into nearly any HEMA event, and you'll have a better than average chance of a woman being willing to prove this idea false with a Zweihander, that may in fact be taller than she is. (Historically, Zwiehanders could be over 2 meters long, and chances extremely good that you're shorter than 2 meters.)

I know I'm regurgitating previous posts here, but it really is worth remembering that swords are much lighter than people think. Zweihanders are some of the heaviest battlefield swords from history, and even the heaviest examples weigh less than 9lbs. Women in HEMA can, and do, use them effectively. Swords aren't about being big and heavy, they're about being a (in this case) seven foot long razor blade.

Since we're on the Zweihander specifically (and this may also apply for some of the other greatswords, such as the Scottish Claymore), this is a case where you might have a custom weapon forged for you. However, in this case, that's more about the right blade length, then worrying about the grip being too thick or too thin. Ideally, you want the blade length to match your height (roughly), this is because of the drills with the weapon itself, though you could adjust to a longer blade if that's what you had.

Now, to be clear, the idea of someone, particularly a noble, having a blade custom forged for them specifically isn't strange. That's something that did happen, both at the noble's request, and also as diplomatic gifts from other nations. Examples of the latter resulted in beautiful art pieces that you would never take into battle.

If you had a situation where you couldn't use a sword because the grip was too large (for, whatever reason), there are ways to fix that. In an ideal situation, you could simply pop off the pommel and grip, and then replace the grip with one that was a better fit to your hand. If the tang itself was the problem (this is the metal core of the grip, and is part of the blade, which the pommel attaches to), you might be able to shave (or file) down the tang, and then replace the grip with a new one, fitted to the now smaller tang. I'm not particularly wild about modifying the tang directly, simply because there is a (minor) risk of reducing the structural integrity of the sword in the process. Though, replacing the grip (especially on a sword with a threaded pommel) is very doable, and unless someone, somehow, screws up catastrophically, it should be a pretty trivial modification. (Again, replacing a sword's original grip with a new shagreen grip does make a lot of sense if the owner wants that improved grip.)

But, to the original question, it's not really a thing.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

[jayahult]

Not to get too intense about it, but I really do love a good retelling, but my criteria for good retellings are... not high, but perhaps more specific than they are for most people. If I had to make a list

A good retelling must understand the original text and its context. If one is retelling a Greek myth, you must understand not only the plot of the myth, but the author should also at least understand the intent behind the myth, both in charitable and uncharitable interpretations.

A good retelling must add something new by telling this story again. You can't just say that this is the same story... but in space! You have to know that the creation of a different context for a story fundamentally creates different themes and understandings, and take advantage of that. To go back to Greek myth, Hadestown is fundamentally a retelling of the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. However, instead of solely focusing on Hades as a figure representing Death, Hadestown focuses on Hades as a patron of the wealthy, the lord of all wealth hidden beneath the earth as much as the bones that also lay there. The story is then reframed as not just the story of Orpheus and Eurydice but also of the story of an early 1900s company town wherein Hades is the exploitative boss. Orpheus is voice of the downtrodden, traveling to this place of the downtrodden and trying, in his own way, to affect some tiny bit of change. In what I'd consider one of the seminal songs in the musical, "If It's True," where his simple action of singing this question about whether this is the only way things have to be awakes the deadened workers and their collective force makes Hades respond.

A good retelling must stand on its own even if the audience is unfamiliar with other tellings. Knowing the original should enhance the experience, but it should not be necessary. Sorry to keep using musical examples, but The Tain by The Decemberists is still a great song with solid lyrics, even if they're abstracted from the original story of The Cattle Raid of Cooley. They change the lyrics to more modern ideas, with references to Charlemagne, cars, and so on, but the through-line of the story is very clearly there. The story even ends with a direct question to Medb - was all that really worth it?

I dunno where I was going with the rest of this, but those are my thoughts on the matter.