#category: symbols & words

[jiminscockr1ng]

✩｡°𝄞📹 COVERGIRL 𝄞°✨｡✩

╝ one-shot ╔

╰₊ 𓂂➢ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

╰₊ 𓂂➢ genre: idol x model au, smut

╰₊ 𓂂➢ warn!ngs: unprotected sex, cumming inside, back shots, orgasm denial (kind of), oral !female receiving, slight pain (in beginning), big dick!jungkook, (let me know if there’s more please!)

╰₊ 𓂂➢ summary: you are the cover girl for jungkook’s upcoming clothing line, JJK. said man, just can’t keep his eyes off of you as you model his designs.

╰₊ 𓂂➢ word count: 3.7k

You almost break your fucking neck trying to pose in the six inch pumps you have on—

in front of all of these cameras, in front of all of these people, in front of him. But of course, like the boss ass, talented, flawless model you are, you stay on your ten toes. Falling into another pristine pose matter of fact.

The photographers take their photos of you and the staff on the sides of the room doesn’t shy away from shouting praises at you. You slickly slide your hands into the back pockets of the denim miniskirt that barely covered the curve of your round ass. Back facing the camera, as you turned your upper body to eye it.

A large quantity of “ooh’s” and “aah’s” echoes through the brightly lit room once everyone gets a glimpse of your immaculate figure.

Your eyes couldn’t help but fall on the built individual standing low-key in the corner. He’s been eying you for the past half hour since you stepped out of the dressing room with this outfit. Truth be told, this man has been staring you down since you took his place in front of the cameras. He’s only now mentally undressing you. (not that your current outfit left much to the imagination).

You’re sporting a black tie that hangs over the skimpy white laced bra that’s clutched your chest, hanging on for dear life. On your feet are a pair of plain black pumps and of course— the main piece.

That denim miniskirt you’re wearing. ‘JJK’ initials embroidered on the back pockets, the sides are laced together with black ribbon, and it’s just long enough to walk in— short enough to the point you’d be flashing someone if you bent over the slightest bit.

If he could suck his own dick for making such a masterpiece, he would. But Jungkook would much rather you do it instead, because damn… did you look absolutely heaven sent. ‘Second to none,’ he thought as he watched you from the corner of the room.

Jungkook knew that choosing you as the covergirl for his new line was the perfect idea. He fought for it, fought for you. Having a black woman as the cover model of the Jeon Jungkook’s brand new fashion line wasn’t something the board wanted to approve.

Other than the fact you are black, you’re a fairly new up and coming model, leaving you very little experience. Jungkook discovered your instagram account just a few months before he completed his line. At first glance he knew you were something special. Different from all of the slim, long legged, fair skinned Korean women his team had continuously suggested. There was absolutely nothing wrong with those women— at all.

But Jungkook was looking for something else, something new, fresh, something natural. As an idol, he naturally falls into a clean, pure and innocent category. Despite being a grown ass man. Jungkook desperately is clawing to get out of that box. He wanted to prove it and expose the mature side of him through this fashion line. So no, Jungkook didn’t want a put together woman, or a pretty princess, or even a grunge queen. He wanted a natural sex symbol.

The perfectionist that Jungkook is, he never fails to second guess all of his actions and choices. But you, no— he knew that he needed you.

Needed you to wear his designs, needed you to be his covergirl, needed you all up in his face… amongst other things.

To which you were more than excited to do. Like, be serious! It’s Jeon Jungkook. The man with the mouth watering sleeve of tattoos, toe curling wavy mullet, the gut turning physique.

When his team reached out to you, you were more than ecstatic. You wondered how god had seemingly blessed you with the opportunity to model for the a-list idol.

You’re a huge fan of Jungkook’s music, listening to his panty dropping vocals daily. So the fact that you’re actually modeling for him and the fact that he’s currently staring you down like he wants you to be his last meal has you shaking in your six inch pumps. The unwavering tension between the two of you goes unnoticed by the others in the room.

But the way your smooth brown thighs clenches together definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook… neither does the way Jungkook is holding that clip board over his crotch go unnoticed for you.

Shit. You desperately needed for someone to just—

“That’s a wrap!” You hear someone yell and you let out a sigh of relief. Quickly bowing and spreading “thank you’s” to the staff that approached to compliment you.

You make your way back into your dressing room in the back of the studio. First thing you do is take off the tight tie around your neck, then the pumps off of your feet, exhaling in relief when your feet meet the ground.

There’s still an uncomfortable feeling in between the thick of your thighs. Damn, he really got you all worked up… more than you had realized it seems. You slip the soaked laced thong that matches your white laced bra down your legs and it gets flung into the waste bin. Leaving you naked under the famous miniskirt you still have on.

You distract yourself with the gorgeous sight you see in the mirror, then a light knocking hits your door. Before you could even say “come in,” in walks the finest man you have ever laid eyes on… and the reason why your favorite laced thong is in the trash.

“Hey,” he whispers to which you slightly raise a brow. Because yes, he’s fine as hell but at the same time, who told him he could enter? “Sorry for barging in. I didn’t want anyone to see me near your dressing room.” You nod your head understandingly. That would be a nightmare if anyone saw the two of you interacting and decided to go yapping about it.

Which is why this just so happens to be you and Jungkook’s first interaction. How low of you to get turned on before a proper conversation.

“Then again, I couldn’t leave without speaking to you first.” He smiled softly at you, part of his cute bunny toothed smile beamed in your eyes and the butterflies in your stomach start doing flips.

You return the smile. “Yeah, I guess that would be a bit odd. Ya know, since I’m your covergirl or whatever.” He’s intrigued by your wording. Of course, you are his cover girl, Jungkook knows that. But the way you said it just now sounded so fucking sexy to Jungkook.

“My covergirl?” He sing as he leans his shoulder on the wall. Nodding your head, butt pressed against the vanity behind you— confidently. Because the sexual tension between the two of you couldn’t even be cut by a knife. “Yeah, that’s usually what people call it. I think it’s funny how this is my first time speaking to my employer. Scared of me?” You test. Jungkook’s eyebrows flick up at your ‘sass’.

“Your employer?” You actually let out a little chuckle this time. “Are you gonna keep repeating everything I say?” You sarcastically ask before slickly eying him up and down. The white, short sleeved crew neck he has clinging onto all of his muscles and the exposure of his tatted right arm has tears rolling down your thighs. And the black cargo pants that are swallowing his tiny waste makes you bite your bottom lip. But we must stay focused!

“No, just a little intrigued.” He says, pushing himself off of the wall. “And no. I’m not scared of you. Just figured I’d keep my distance.” He trails off his sentence as you boost yourself up to sit on the white vanity behind you. The miniskirt rides up your thighs even more (if that’s even possible), your thighs press against the vanity top makes them look even more attractive and edible to the man standing in front of you— he almost forgets why he came in here in the first place.

“Why’d you figure that?” You tilt your head to the side innocently. But absolutely nothing is innocent about it. You are purposely teasing him— in attempts to seduce him. See if the good boy, ‘youngest’ is as good as people say he is.

Ask and you shall receive, because Jungkook is once again picturing you without that skimpy laced bra and with your legs wide open. The thought has him hard as a rock underneath his baggy cargo pants.

“Wanted to keep things professional.” He forces out. The underlying message doesn’t go over your head but you choose to ignore it. “So what are you doing here now?” With that, Jungkook lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Stepping away from the wall, he makes his way closer to the large white vanity you’re sitting on.

“I just wanted to compliment you on the amazing performance you did today. Everything went smoothly and it’s been a great week.” He says genuinely and you gladly take the compliment, letting out a small “thank you”— to which he battles.

“No, thank you. You really made this whole thing come to life so really, thank you.” You smile from ear to ear at his sincerity, feeling overwhelmingly gratified and proud… and still wet.

“Well your designs are amazing so you should have majority of the credit— by the way, can I keep this!” Asking, pointing to the miniskirt that hugs your hips. Jungkook’s tongue slides out of his mouth, wetting his lips, slightly playing with his lip ring.

“Of course, it’s all yours. Can’t think of anyone who’d wear it better than you do anyways.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. He didn’t even mean to flirt he just said what he was thinking and it remains true. You are the sexiest woman Jungkook has laid eyes on. And if he doesn’t get out of this dressing room right now, his balls might explode.

But in the midst of the internal war Jungkook’s facing, you hum. “Is that why you kept staring at me all day? At first I thought you regretted your decision.” You say and before you could continue your overly sarcastic remarks he interrupts with the rapid shaking of his head.

“I could never regret choosing you.” Your heart dropped to your ass at his words and you’re scared if you move the wrong way the arousal between your thighs (that has been lathered onto the vanity) may drip onto the floor. Without saying much else, he doesn’t let his nerves stop him from stepping closer to you— nearly in between your legs.

He places his hand beside yours that rests on top of the vanity. Slowly his hand intertwines with yours. His touch so soft; the hair on your neck stands tall. His eyes glazing over your plumped lips, layered in lip gloss that shined under the light

“You’re perfect,” is the last thing he says before his lips slowly meet yours.

You could hear angles singing from close range as you finally snag the taste of his lips. His lip ring tickles your lip, sending a shiver down your spine. A soft moan escapes your mouth and Jungkook feels like he just won the lottery.

His tatted hand glides up your thigh, basking in the feeling of your soft brown skin under his touch. He gently caress your naked thighs, spreading them apart to properly stand in between them.

You let out a little huff as you feel him licking and leaving open mouth kisses against your jawline. “From the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he says in between kisses and you feel his breath on your neck, making your clit pulse. “I knew you were perfect.”

You pull your lips away to look at him. The heavy breathing fills the dressing room as the two of you look into each other’s eyes, the similar look of need in both of your eyes.

You slide your hands up Jungkook’s torso, to his broad shoulders, resting them on his neck. Pulling him down closer to you, you say, “Touch me.”

Which was all Jungkook needed to hear before attacking your lips again, your hand wrapped around his shoulders as you slightly grind into his clothed member. You could feel the bulge through his pants, exciting you even more.

“Oh my god— Jungkook.” You whine when he bites at your neck. His hands move to your chest, caressing your boobs through the fabric of the bra you still had on. Until he unfastens it, sliding the bra down your arms with your help.

His hands worry themselves with the feel of your tits again fitting perfectly under his hold. You bite your bottom lip to hold back the moans from the sensitivity of his fingers pinching your nipples. Within seconds his hands are replaced with his mouth and he sucks and nibbles on your nipples.

Your hips grind faster against his hard-on. “Jungkook, I need you.” You whimper impatiently. He removes his mouth from your chest, giving you a quick peck on the lips before smirking down at you which takes you for a whirl. Taking a step back he looks down in between the close proximity of you two.

He spreads your thighs father apart to reach down under your miniskirt to find your bare pussy wetter than the Caribbean Sea.

“No panties— are you nuts?” He exclaims with the raise of his eyebrows. “If I would’ve known I was talking to you like this I would’ve bent you over this fucking vanity once I walked in.” He sexily groans against your swollen lips. The heat between your bodies are making you even more needy than usual.

The two of you share breaths as your lips hover over the other’s. You gasp heavily into his mouth as his finger drags down your slippery slit.

He lets out a low groan at the feeling of your slickness and the feeling of his dick growing harder inside of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Making matters worse, you remove your hand from his shoulder to grip the thick bulge between his legs, almost flinching at the size of it. You look up at him with that needy look you have in your eyes that’s driving him up a wall.

“Then do it,” pulling him down to lick up his sharp jawline. “Bend me over and fuck me good.” You whisper into his ear.

Jungkook snaps, he pulls you off of the vanity, pulling you closer to him to taste the sweet taste of your lip gloss again. The kiss is cut short when he spins you around to bend you over the white vanity top, true to his word.

You let out a high pitched gasp as your bare chest hits the vanity top. He stands over your form, hands caressing your thighs, slowly moving up to your plump ass. His hand smacking against your ass echoes throughout the room and Jungkook’s dick twitches at the sight of your ass jiggling.

“So fucking pretty.” He says before crouching down, face all in your cookie. He bites his lips as you spread your legs further apart, desperate for his mouth.

Again, he drags his thumb down your slit and you let out load moan of pleasure from the sensation of his touch. Your hand quickly covers your mouth. “You have to be quiet princess.” The words smoothly passed through his mouth like butter making your knees weak. However, they actually buckle once you feel his tongue swipe through your slick. Your head lowers into your chest to try to keep your composure.

“Mmm,” he moans while licking through your folds, eating your cunt like it’s his favorite meal. “You taste so damn good.” He aggressively spreads your legs wider to attack your pussy with his mouth.

Your legs shake as you fee his tongue going in and out of your hole, his thumb rubbing over your swollen clit. The grip of his hand on your ass doesn’t let up as you squeeze your legs together around his head.

“R—right there! I’m gonna—” Your hole clenches around his tongue as you felt your stomach tightening. Just when you feel yourself releasing, he stops. He pulls away.

“What the fuck.” You curse in frustration. He leans his body over yours, gripping your hair to turn your head to the side. You let out a moan at his roughness.

“You’re too pretty to be cursing, princess.” He says against your lips before attacking them with a wet, sloppy kiss. You push your ass against his dick, needy from the absence of his tongue. You whimper against his mouth.

“You want me to fuck you bad, huh?” He teases, roughly brushing his bulge over your wet folds. He lets out a groan at the feeling. “Yes— mm! Fuck, yes Jungkook. I need your dick inside of me.” Jungkook places one last sloppy kiss on your lips, lets go of the grip on your hair and began unbuttoning his pants.

They instantly falls down to his ankles and he lowers his boxer briefs, letting them fall the his ankles as well, his dick smacking his stomach. You can’t see his length that he pumps in his hand behind you— but god, when he starts thrusting it in between your ass cheeks you can feel it.

It makes you nervous because you didn’t expect him to be so big. But you grow more aroused at the thought of him fucking you silly, wrecking your tight little pussy. He slowly rubs the tip of his dick over your folds, coating his dick with your arousal, layering over his pre-cum. “I hope you’re fine with me going in raw, didn’t really have me fucking you in mind before I came here today.” You nod your head faster than you ever did in your life.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just p— put it in.” He chuckles at your impatience and without a second thought, he slowly thrusts himself inside of you. Both of your moans fill the room as his dick penetrates your tight hole. You let out a shaky breath as he pulls back, just for him to thrust inside of you again.

The pain of his length ripping through you has your head spinning. As he thrusts again, he bends down over your shaky body to leave a light kiss on your shoulder. “You okay?” He softly asks and you hesitantly nod your head with your eyes shut close. “Y— yeah, just getting used to it. I’m… fine.” With that, he softly leave a kiss on your cheek before lifting back up and thrusting into you again.

He whisper out curses as your tight pussy swallows his dick and he relishes the sight of it.

After a few more thrusts the pain subsides and it is quickly replaced with the feeling of pleasure. Jungkook, wraps his hand under you to caress your tit as he continues to plunge himself deeper into your sex.

“Faster p— please,” you whisper out and you couldn’t even brace yourself for the next thrust. His hard dick hits your spot and your knees give out on you. He holds your waist out with his hands as he continuously abuses your hole. Your bodies jerk forward with each thrust.

“Your pussy feels so good around my dick, _______.” He says and you let out another high moan— hitting notes you’ve never hit before. He roughly grabs your hair again, lifting you up to make your back arch. You can see the both of you through the mirror, you can see him fucking you dirty, the way his eyebrows furrow looking down at the way your cunt swallows his length, the sight gets you even more aroused— if that’s even possible.

He finally looks up at you through the mirror. He sends you a smirk before going absolutely feral. “Hold on for me, princess.” His grip on your hair tightens as he fiercely thrusts into you. Faster, deeper, harder, he is literally blowing your back out. Your eyes squeeze shut and loud screams escape your mouth. The hand gripping your hair quickly covers your mouth to block out the lewd sounds you let out.

You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening at the fast pace and the constant pounding on your cervix. The feeling grows with Jungkook wrap his free hand over your thigh to rub your clit as he sloppily thrusts into you.

“Cum for me baby.” He says lowly and out of breath as his pace quickens. Your moans are muffled into his hand while he penetrates your cunt and stimulates your clit. “Fuck,” he says as you cum around his length, your legs shaking as Jungkook reaches his high. The sounds of your juices lapping together fills the room and you feel Jungkook’s warm release flow inside of you.

The two of you breathe heavily as Jungkook’s dick rests inside of you. After Jungkook has gotten his composure back, he pulls out, watching as your cunt discharges his cum down your thighs. Quickly pulling his pants up and jogging over to the corner to grab a paper towel, he comes back to clean you with it.

Your body is still limp over the vanity as he does so. “I hope I wasn’t too rough.” He says. You lift up, standing on your own, pulling the miniskirt down over your ass. Shaking your head. “No,” you let out a little chuckle. “That was amazing.”

Your eyes sparkle as they look up at his. He’s almost hypnotized by them, he drops his head to yours, kissing your lips again, his hands on the small of your back. “You have no idea how long I’ve been holding back.” You giggle at him.

“How long?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hand reaches your face, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he basks in your beauty and the feeling of your arms around him.

“Since the day I chose you as my COVERGIRL.”

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#who(re) you 🍂 #jiminscockr1ng #˚ · .˚ ༘🦋⋆｡˚ #bts smut #bts fanfic #kpop smut #bts x black reader #black reader #bts x reader #jungkook x black reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

[icannotgetoverbirds]

had a dream the other night where i was attempting to customize a mii character. of course all the options were fucked-up abominations because all my dreams look like ai-generated images but that's besides the point. as i looked through the options, kind of half-aware that i was dreaming, i'd occasionally select a category and find out that it either wasn't available or had no sub-options to select (and was therefore also not available).

Every time this happened, Mario's anguished wails would play in the background (think the screaming he does when he's on fire but more varied in pitch) to indicate disappointment as the error message popped up. For some reason - I assume due to my slight lucidity - this was incredibly funny to me.

also there was a Brewster skin you could put on that was supposed to make you look like Brewster, but of course it was fucked up like everything else because im shit at visualization.

#quick question does anyone else dream like that? #where like. everything is slightly distorted and Wrong but you just roll with it? #or is that just a product of like. semi-lucidity in dreaming #cause for real the only resemblance the skin had to Brewster was a vague shape and the color #it was kind of just a smoothed-out polygonic lump with a weird black line that kinda zigzagged? #it didn't cover the whole thing either it was just a short zigzag that was like. slapped on there #oh and i think there was a fucked-up beak too #none of the words made sense of course but i knew it was an error message #all of the options were just weird simple symbols #there were A Lot of categories but very few options in each #twas strange

[sugar-grigri]

How is Chainsaw Man the scariest without being the strongest?

It's still a very succinct analysis, but I find it fascinating how this whole chapter is irrigated by an idea that will only be verbalized at the very end.

How to make a decapitated teenager fearsome: by placing him in the demonic hierarchy.

Demons are closer to the animal kingdom than to the human, or rather, humans are merely the demons' prey, placed after them on the food chain.

But this food chain still exists within the demons themselves, and the law of the strongest naturally prevails.

So this chapter very effectively places us in this hierarchy by means of a key element: reminding us just how strong Guangxi is.

This is most effectively established by the arrogant nail fiend, who flatly submits to Guangxi's plea for mercy before she attacks.

More classically, this is underlined by the speed with which Katana Man was sliced open. The discrepancy being made by the fact that Katana man was transformed when she is not, even in her human form, she remains stronger.

Third element: the relationship with death. Guangxi has the same nature as CSM, weapons that know no finitude. This gives the impression that they're both in the same category and, given her power, puts her above Denji's more chaotic, instinctive abilities.

Which she recognizes. She's obviously stronger than CSM. But this one is more frightening.

Even in his most vulnerable state, human and decapitated, Denji acts like a malevolent totem, pushing an overpowered weapon like Guangxi to bend.

But all this seems confusing because CSM's golden rule is that the scarier a demon is, the stronger it will be. So if Quanxi is scared of CSM, why isn't CSM logically stronger?

The chapter answers this: Guangxi allows Yoru to kill her. In other words, the most logical conclusion to a physical and combative power struggle : death is not what frightens Guangxi. So what is it that frightens Guangxi?

Chainsaw Man is bad luck. When Guangxi faces the more vulnerable Denji, she remains stoic, as if she doesn't want to awaken a curse.

Once again, the answer is in the chapter. What's more frightening for beings who aren't afraid of the logic of the food chain because they don't know death? The death of their loved ones.

The food chain does not allow us to identify the hierarchy between several individuals of different species. How can such a miserable human be the superior of such a strong weapon? Because he holds something precious in his hands: her loved ones. Chainsaw Man is just as much a threat to them, so Guangxi, however strong, doesn't go near him.

Symbolically, this man who had little empathy or respect for his wife doesn't understand the reaction of a demon who refrains from offending Chainsaw Man : Guangxi who clings to the bodies of her lovers like lost treasures.

Seeing Chainsaw Man is a painful memory for Guangxi, as he is the mark of the mission that cost her the lives of her girlfriends.

Even if Chainsaw Man is not the direct result, he is an abyss around which stronger demons sometimes gravitate, but above all a black hole into which loved ones sink.

Denji himself is proof of this, isn't he? He's merged with this curse. His relatives have all paid the price.

Guangxi is actually in the same state as Denji. Decapitated, her lace bandage symbolizing a false scar, a false scar for a being who can't have one, an unhealed mourning.

Denji is once again subject to this curse. For a clue was slipped last time that this one had a bottom of conscience.

What did Denji want to do? Helping Nayuta, no? What stopped him?

Pochita.

When we see Chainsaw Man, we see the scariest thing of all.

Loneliness.

#chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #csm spoilers #csm 162 #denji hayakawa #denji #yoru #asa mitaka #katana man #quanxi #guangxi #makima #nail fiend #pochita #my thoughts

[cookinguptales]

So… I’ve been turning all this over in my head since last night, and I wanted to make a post about vampiric transformation as sex, and how it’s being used in wwdits as a metaphor for sexual repression, sexual freedom, virginity, and cuckolding.

Before I even get into the obvious metaphors about virginity and cuckolding, I think we need to talk about the elephant in the room. Guillermo’s sexual repression and how that’s come to find an outlet in his vampiric longing.

Guillermo is highly repressed, sexually speaking, but I don’t think he’s asexual. He’s shown interest in sex several times, but in an uncomfortable “this can’t be for me yet” kind of way. He was clearly raised Catholic and has internalized a lot of that shame re: sex, especially gay sex. He wants intimacy, but he’s also internalized the idea that wanting these things is dangerous and shameful.

But… the vampiric world seems to symbolize all the things that Guillermo wants but cannot have. He wants to be strong, powerful, attractive, and sexually liberated. As much as their openness about sex embarrasses him, there’s a certain longing there, too. He didn’t just want to be handsome as a vampire — he explicitly used the word “sexy.”

A vampiric Guillermo is a version of Guillermo that gets to have sex. Loudly, proudly, and without shame. It’s a version of him that is wanted, that wants, and who gets to have the precise kind of intimacy he's always craved.

Now, how much Guillermo has actually done sexually is still up for a lot of debate in fandom, but I think that’s kind of immaterial. For most of the show, Guillermo clearly wasn’t having the kind of intimacy that he wanted to be having, and he only started to even begin to allow himself to seriously consider all that in s4, when he got a boyfriend and came out to his family.

As being gay and wanting to be a vampire. 

Guillermo is finally starting to own both his homosexuality and his vampiric life, and that means he’s finally starting to explore sex.

Now… At the end of s4, I talked about how Guillermo going to Derek in the finale had the air of a person who’d been fantasizing about losing their virginity in a certain way all their life — but then they finally give up on those dreams and hire a sex worker instead. There’s a resignation there in Guillermo that he couldn’t get it “the old-fashioned way,” he’s disappointed and jaded when it comes to intimate relationships, and now he’s tired of waiting for love and just wants a business transaction.

I wasn’t quite expecting for them to push that metaphor even more in s5! The money aspect was almost forgotten (Did… Derek even take the money? Why is he still cleaning toilets?) but the scene with Derek biting Guillermo was clearly a metaphorical virginity scene.

Guillermo’s nervous eagerness, his growing realization that this wasn’t actually the way he wanted it to happen. Asking Derek if he’d ever done this before and figuring out if he was “ready.” Taking off his clothes (that his grandmother got for him, even, that’s a whole meta post right THERE) and trying to make the vibe “right.” His insistence that though Nandor had never done this for him, they still had a caring and intimate relationship.

But… it was also a metaphor for bad sex. Many people lose their virginity in a way they don’t find satisfying, and Guillermo definitely seems to fall in this category. It was awkward, it was bloody, it hurt, his partner didn’t listen to him, they weren’t on the same wavelength, they didn’t connect, there was no emotional bond, and most importantly, he didn’t feel changed.

Like a lot of people do, Guillermo thought losing his virginity would change him. He’d be cooler, sexier, more powerful. His station in life would change. He’d become an adult his ideal form. But he’s still just Guillermo.

As he told Laszlo, as soon as he did it, he regretted it. He immediately knew that he’d been right, that this wasn’t the way he wanted to do it. He wanted to do it with someone experienced who loved and cared about him, who listened to him, and he wanted that person to be Nandor. But he wasn’t patient, he paid an inexperienced acquaintance for a one-night-stand instead, and he was left feeling deeply unfulfilled.

Most upsettingly, he immediately discovered that, like virginity, you can’t lose it twice. He can’t just have a do-over with Nandor now. He’s given something up that he can’t give to anyone else, and he’s going to have to live with the consequences.

Because like sex for humans, transformation has social implications in the vampire world. It can only be done in very specific situations. Guillermo seems to have grown up in a human world where sex should only be happening within a heterosexual marriage, and now he’s finding that in the vampire world, transformation is only supposed to happen between a master and familiar currently in a contractual bond.

So… him going to Derek and finding “outlet” in another relationship, so to speak, is effectively vampirically cuckolding Nandor. He’s given that honor to another vampire, which Nandor seems to find both vampirically humiliating and personally hurtful. It would in fact hurt him so badly that he would probably not survive it, in Laszlo’s words.

(There’s also definitely an element of an abusive “if I can’t have you, no one can” vibe in Nandor’s threat to kill Guillermo and then himself if Guillermo got what he needed from another vampire, but since when have we ever liked them well-adjusted?)

Guillermo is realizing that, as much as he’s been thinking of this in sexual terms, so have the vampires. He thought he was the only one who thought it was a big deal. He thought he was the only one placing intimacy and partnership and loyalty into this event. But now he’s realizing that as much as it meant to him, it might have even been a bigger thing for Nandor.

For Guillermo, vampirism-as-sex represents the idealized transformational aspects of losing your virginity. He’d built up this big event in his mind that represented his intimate bond with Nandor, he’d built up this idea that the event would change him, would make him better, would make him free. But he’s finding, like many first-timers do, that sometimes it’s not transformational. It’s just awkward and disappointing and the only thing that’s changed is that you ache in the morning.

He still doesn’t have the intimacy he wanted. He still doesn’t have the ability to be loudly himself. He still hasn’t been able to fully own his sexuality and ask for what he wants. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t enjoy it. He regrets it.

He also regrets it because now he knows it will hurt Nandor and the relationship they’ve built. Because for Nandor, vampirism-as-sex represents the societal aspects of sex. The rules people follow. The societal humiliation you feel if you’re cuckolded. The personal agony you feel when you’re cheated on. The sense that your home is broken if your partner goes to find satisfaction with someone else.

Guillermo, who has had to deal with societal disapproval of his desired type of sex in the human world his whole life, was viewing vampiric transformation as a way to be free of all that. The shame and the repression and the societal penalties for being himself.

But he’s just found himself in a mess of new rules, hasn’t he? Different culture, same struggle. And while the vampiric world has always symbolized a sexual liberation that both repulses and attracts Guillermo, he clearly doesn’t have as much freedom here as he thought.

So… to sum up, Guillermo always kind of thought of transformation as losing his virginity. He associated vampirism with sex, and he thought this would be his entrance into the sexual world. He wanted to have an intimate experience with Nandor, but eventually gave up on that and decided to pay for it — and then immediately regretted it, both because he found it personally dissatisfying and because it came as a betrayal to the man he loves.

The problem is that he thought he was the only person thinking of it as sex — he didn’t realize that Nandor does, too, just in a very different way.

Nandor was also thinking of vampiric transformation as this special act, and one that belongs only to him as Guillermo’s master/partner. He was thinking of it in intimate terms, but also in societal partnership terms. He’s thinking of his household, while Guillermo was thinking of things on more individualistic terms.

If only they’d both talked about all this shit even once. :’)

But that’s not how we do things here in Staten Island!!! We just long for things ineffectively, keep secrets, and fuck everything up!

(There’s also a whole thing here about how Nandor wasn’t keeping his side of the relationship bargain and that’s why Guillermo looked elsewhere in a moment of weakness, but I guess that’s probably a separate post. This is long enough already.)

#I could talk about this so much more but this post is so long lmao #well guillermo you can never give nandor your first time but that doesn't mean you can't still build a relationship with him #more important for a guy to have your future than your past right? #lmao we'll see #nandermo #wwdits #wwdits meta #long post #wwdits spoilers

[cemeterything]

Can u talk more about ur opinion/how u see angels pls

yeah sure! so to me the word "angel" is a classification of living being, much like fungi, plants and animals are all seperate categories by which living things are grouped. angels are actually closer in nature to machines than humans or other animals. they're essentially tools, designed to carry out the wishes of their creator with devotion, and created to serve a purpose. they don't inherently possess free will, because this would strip them of their purpose, which is why angels who develop free will 'fall' - they can't existentially be angels anymore. angelic forms are metaphysical, and more symbolic than literal.

#angels

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Eisteddfod Chairs: Pick Your Winner!

It's almost June! Nearly time to reveal the 2023 Chair! So come, gather round Tumblrs, let me tell you of the furniture-based customs of my people

So Wales has been celebrating Eisteddfodau (festivals of poetry, music, and disco dancing), in some form or another, since at least the 1100s, when Lord Rhys of Dinefwr had one all formal-like and made it into a big fun party and that. The word basically means 'sitting place', and probably refers to the way people in summer would gather round the twmpath in the village to listen to bards that passed through and drink mead and shout 'hurrah!' a lot. Amazingly, this is not where the Chair Thing comes from.

Part of Welsh history is the Bardic Age, and it was custom for bards to travel the country and visit the courts of assorted gentry types (also normal people's houses and taverns and twmpaths but let's stay on topic) and play for them. If the lord paid well, great; if not, the bard would write a Super Mean Song about them and sing it everywhere, so they were pretty well treated.

But if they were particularly good, rather than making them play for the WHOLE meal, the lord would offer them a chair at the table to join in the feast as a guest, rather than a worker, and THAT is where the Chair Thing comes from.

Anyway that's preamble to say that every year in the biggest Eisteddfod of all - the Eisteddfod Genedlaethol - the highest honour awarded goes to the Prifardd - the bard who writes the winning cywydd (super complex Welsh poetry WE DON'T HAVE TIME TO EXPLAIN ALL OF THIS). And the prize for writing the winning cywydd is that you are awarded, you guessed it, the Chair.

Now these Chairs (capital C, please, we like a bit of Fantasy Novel Capitalisation and for this cultural reason I will never understand people who complain about it) are unique. They are thrones. They are carved each year by one chosen carpenter, who crafts a one-of-a-kind Chair with symbolism and that, never to be replicated. They usually have the year carved on, but otherwise, they vary wildly in aesthetic and symbolism. In a No Award year (because Eisteddfod judges don't subscribe to the Western idea that there HAS to be a first, second and third place; if no one is good enough there is no award, and I have seen choir competitions for seven year olds where there was no first or third place but there were two choirs in joint second), the Chair is sent back to the carpenter who carved it, and they get to keep it. In a year where the bard died before the ceremony, it is draped in black, and given to next of kin.

(That has only happened once. RIP Hedd Wyn, 1887-1917. Also the only reproduced Chair; the original, known as the Gadair Ddu (the Black Chair) is on display in his family home, but a 3D printed replica has been made for display by Amgueddfa Cymru)

BUT THEREFORE a big part of Eisteddfod fun is seeing what the Chair will look like this year. Traditional ones, see, we tend to think look like variants of this:

(Apologies for the substandard attempts at alt-text; I have no clue how to describe these properly)

This one is from 1896. The phrase "Y gwir yn erbyn y byd" means "The truth against the world", and was included in a lot of old ones. Modern ones tend to incorporate the druidic symbol for awen ("poetic inspriation") instead. Some of these incidentally turn up in lil' chapels and that about the country.

But actually even the old ones were mad different, look; clockwise from top left, these are y Gadair Ddu (1917), 1876, 1926 (when the carpenter was Chinese and enjoyed the cultural fusion), and 1908.

Still the same theme, though, but in the modern day the carpenters are all off the shits! They're all over the place! Fuck the rules! And I have Opinions.

Category: I See What You Did There

SYMBOLISM!!! 2011 is a pit wheel from Wrexham's mining past! 2013 is the head of a harp, from Denbighshire's cultural harp-making past! 2017 is fish, from Anglesey's maritime present! Fantastic. Love it.

Best in category: 2017. Why does Anglesey's have so many eyes on the fish? We don't know. Wylfa B protestors reportedly furious.

Category: The Modern Throne

TALL!!! That silhouette! That height!! They have the range, darling! Christ knows 2016 doesn't have anything else going for it! Shout out to the Conwy river on 2019, the different woods from the forests of Maldwyn for 2015, and the red kite symbolism for Ceredigion in 2022 (the spiritual home of the bird, where the species was first saved).

Best in category: 2019, Conwy. I like the bridge and the river lines and the water effect on the front of the seat it's just so pretty.

Category: That's Just A Chair

(I am actually friends with the Prifardd who won 2018 at the bottom there :D )

WHAT ARE RULES WE JUST WANT FUNCTIONAL CHAIRS. Man even so 2014 was fucking ugly. You could have 2018 in your house. Around your table, like. Even 2012 has a sort of IKEA vibe that's boring but palatable. 2014 is only coming in the house under sufferance.

Best in Category: 2018, easy, and not just because it's the one I'm most likely to get to sit in one day. It's pretty.

Category: NO GODS NO CHAIRS NO MASTERS

WHAT

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED IN 2010

BRO I DO NOT THINK YOU TRIED

Best in Category: OBVIOUSLY 2021 I COULD PHYSICALLY MAKE 2010 MYSELF

#wales! #closed for cleaning on mondays #long post

[jessamine-rose]

꒰ The Spider and the Fly ꒱

This is for my hormones every artist/ writer who dragged me into the Miguel O’Hara fandom. Your content is absolutely amazing, and I hope this piece can measure up to the brainrot you’ve given me  ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

Tw:: YANDERE, kidnapping, manipulation, blood, violence, self-deprecation, mention of suicide, bondage, noncon, nsfw, MDNI

Note:: Female reader, double POV, ATSV spoilers, Best Wingman Award goes to LYLA

♡ 7.6k words under the cut ♡

i. spiral orb web

You’ve always been attracted to pretty things, and that includes spiderwebs.

In your eyes, the spider’s craft is the closest thing to art in your everyday life. It is a natural phenomenon marked by intricacy and utility, yet one so easily overlooked due to its associations with pest behavior.

Fortunately, public reception has shifted since the emergence of Spider-Man. It is thanks to your “Friendly Neighborhood Hero” that the spiderweb has been rebranded as a symbol of safety. Be it a weapon or a life-sized shelter, there is a certain beauty to those human creations.

Though the same cannot be said for Miguel O’Hara’s.

Spider-Man 2099’s webs belong to their own category. His are scarlet, bright as lasers, conspicuous and dangerous in equal amounts. When Miguel traps a villain in his webs, one is reminded that a spiderweb is the tool of a predator.

Miguel’s webs are not the only thing which set him apart from the other Spider-Men. He has more inhuman powers—claws, fangs, paralytic venom. His jaded personality and intimidating stature are also far removed from the public image which inspires hope in civilians.

Perhaps that is why you find him all the more alluring. Or it could be simply because he is the one who saved your life.

He’s done more than rescue you. After catching you midfall, Miguel regards you with shock and…pity, you think. It is the only logical explanation as to why he is being so gentle with you when your dimension’s stability is a greater concern.

It also explains why he allows you to follow him into the departing portal. No, follow is a self-preserving term. More like burst into tears, ran after him, then told him your pathetic life story and how anywhere is better than here.

Much to the surprise of his coworkers, he relents.

꒰♡꒱

At first, Miguel thinks you are an Anomaly.

It is one thing to find you in another dimension. It has happened before, and he always avoided your Variants for their sake. But you are inescapable.

Among every version of you, the happiest one was his Variant’s wife. Then there’s you, the one whose life would’ve ended if not for his interference.

He tries to justify his decision. Your departure doesn’t affect the Canon, so no harm will come to your universe. And judging by your personal data, you would be much safer in a different dimension.

His dimension, to be specific. Where he can keep a close eye on you.

He is also logical enough to recognize you as your own person. You aren’t his wife, and his observations support that theory. Your hairstyle is different. You code-switch more often. You sleep and wake up at earlier hours. You’re not as confident in your abilities.

You are alike and unlike her in so many ways, yet he still sees a spark of his sun in you.

ii. funnel web

Since then, you’ve resided in Nueva York.

In return for permanent residency, you are hired as a secretary for the Spider Society. It’s civilian work, nothing dangerous, but more purposeful than what you’d ever achieved in your old job.

Strangely enough, you encounter Miguel quite often.

At first, it feels totally warranted. He is the only person you know in Earth-928, so he guides you through every step of your adjustment. He gives you a Dimensional Travel Watch, shows you around the facility, and instructs you on how not to mess up the multiverse.

After your first week, he invites you to move in with him. Miguel claims that his home already has an extra bedroom, though LYLA’s remarks suggest otherwise. Regardless, you accept since it means a familiar roommate and better living quarters.

How thoughtful of him.

꒰♡꒱

“It’s easier to look after her if we’re under the same roof,” he rationalizes.

“Sure,” says LYLA. She flickers above his shoulder and watches the holographic screens with him. “And it’s not because she reminds you of a certain someone?”

Ignoring her, Miguel switches to a different camera angle. Peter B. Parker walks past your desk and does a double take, and he is promptly summoned for a meeting.

No doubt, there will be questions about you.

“What about the redesigns?” LYLA pulls up a screen showing two bedroom layouts, one collapsed and the other abandoned. “Should we pick one? Merge them? Think of a new design? Or we can ask for her input, seeing how she clearly has better taste than you.”

One of the monitors catches their attention, announcing an Anomaly in Earth-131222.

“We can talk about this later.” With that, Miguel opens a new screen and analyzes the data. On second thought, he adds, “She prefers thin bed sheets.”

-

Later that day, he escorts you home. Your mood has greatly improved since your change in environment, though you’re still quiet around him. LYLA compliments your coat, a purple remnant of her closet which Miguel lent to you, but he ignores her knowing glances.

You wear it differently, he notices. It’s the same article of clothing, but fully buttoned with a silver brooch on one lapel. The effect is significantly less casual.

“So, this is it.” Your expression turns hesitant as Miguel unlocks the front door. “Are you really sure that I can stay here?”

“I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t a hundred percent sure,” he points out.

And it means less time monitoring the CCTVs.

“And you haven’t seen your room yet!” adds LYLA. “We know you’ll love it.”

“I guess it would be impolite to back out now.” You follow him inside and remove your coat. “I’ll try not to be a nuisance.”

He pauses.

That green dress…he could swear that he’s seen it on you before. Many shades lighter, paired with a bright smile, to match the T-shirt of the little girl by your—

“Miguel?” You frown at him, then your gaze flits to your dress. “Is there something wrong with my outfit? I didn’t commit a serious fashion crime in your dimension, did I?”

“It’s nothing,” he says quickly. But upon noticing your lingering anxiety, he admits, “You look good in it. That’s all.”

You nearly drop your coat. “W-What? Are you serious?”

Miguel could swear that you look more shocked than during your first meeting. If he were to come close enough to touch your face, it would surely feel warmer than average.

That’s enough.

“I meant what I said,” he replies, walking ahead. “Do you want to look around or are you just going to stand there?”

That snaps you out of your fluster. You follow him into the living room, a small smile making its way to your face. “The living room is pretty. Was it you or LYLA who designed it?”

The change of topic is a godsend. As Miguel shows you around, you recover from his comment and focus on your surroundings. LYLA is the next to admire your dress, winking at Miguel as she asks about the color, and he takes note of your reaction.

More vulnerable to flattery, regardless of speaker. Extremely happy afterwards.

His wife wasn’t like that. Usually, she’d be the one teasing Miguel with praises, pick-up lines, and inside jokes which he pretended to understand.

Still, it’s nostalgic to sit next to you on the sofa. He could get used to this again.

iii. lace web

In the following months, you fully adjust to your new life.

Your job in the Spider Society is manageable, fun even. Aside from the Spider-Man of your dimension, your close coworkers are kind enough to welcome you into their group. They look out for you, include you in their conversations, and appreciate your hard work.

They even indulge your aesthetic interests! One word from you, and they are already comparing webs. Among the various designs and techniques, however, none have fascinated you as much as Miguel’s.

…You do wish he’d let you roam Nueva York more often.

In case of Canon events, you need to get his permission first. Then you have to wait for him or an assigned Spider-Man to accompany you, and the latter is always a stranger whom you find difficult to bond with. Conversations with LYLA can only do so much.

You’ve recommended your coworkers before, but Miguel doubts their reliability. And every time you invite them to go with you, a new mission cancels your plans. If not for the official records, you’d suspect them of making excuses.

It’s a bit frustrating, honestly, but you know better than to complain.

You should already be satisfied with Miguel. He is an agreeable roommate, he trusts your capabilities, and he acknowledges your efforts. And no matter how closed-off or overworked he is, he's still deemed you worthy of his company.

…He is also very nice to look at. Muscular physique, handsome face, a serious gaze occasionally tinted in red. It’s a shame that he rarely smiles.

In another dimension, a better version of you would have definitely pursued him.

꒰♡꒱

“...and get this, he can shoot webs with stabilimenta. The designs are so detailed!”

“Oh, wow.” Miguel barely looks up from the monitors, grimacing at yet another Anomaly. He quickly sends an alert to the dimension’s Spider-Man. “What else?”

Behind him, you suddenly grow quiet.

“Now that I think about it, you must already know that since you recruited him. Sorry if that wasn’t anything worth listening to…are you sure I’m not bothering you?”

“You’re not.” It comes out faster than intended.

He turns around. Once again, you look surprised by his words, but you don’t ask for confirmation this time. You just nod and return to your digital reports.

Why did you visit his laboratory again? You said it was a false alarm from LYLA, who’d likely sent it on purpose. Lately, she’s been on his case about how rude it is to “avoid” you through extra work. He thinks he could easily do without distractions or triggered memories, however.

Miguel opens a private file and thinks of what you’d just told him. Apart from concerned looks from Jess and Peter B, most of the Spider-Men haven’t given you any trouble. Your coworkers, however, are a different matter.

-

23) ______ laughed because of some stupid pickup line from Web-Slinger. Smiled when he complimented her outfit (purple blouse, black high-waist skirt, favorite heels, pearl hairpin).

24) ______ talked about the other agents’ webs again.* She admires stabilimenta.

-

“You should be careful with your friends,” he tells you. He types a few more observations and closes the screen. “The last thing I need is for you to get involved in their mess. Don’t think that I can’t see them slacking on the job.”

To your credit, you don’t apologize. “Noted.”

“Miguel!” LYLA appears and moves the screens around him. “We have an Anomaly in Earth-332. Spider-Woman called for backup.”

Great, another one. It must be a persistent villain if Jess needs his help.

“I’m on it.” He types the coordinates on his watch and activates the portal.

“How dangerous is it?”

He stops, just a few meters short of leaving.

You leave your desk, an anxious look on your face. “I know you told me not to worry before, but I really have no idea of what your battles are like. So…will you be all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures you. A hug comes to mind—it always calmed her anxieties—but he instead gives you a shoulder pat. “Don’t wait for me. If it takes a while, LYLA will call someone to escort you home.”

“Okay.” You’re still standing in front of him, but he can feel the tension leaving your body. “It’s my turn to cook dinner tonight, right? I’ll prepare a nice victory feast so look forward to that.”

A few more seconds wouldn’t hurt. “You don’t have to.”

You pout at him. “But I want to. Besides, it’s not fair that you are so good at making my favorite meals. I still haven’t perfected yours.”

Secretly, Miguel thinks your cooking tastes better than his wife’s. But whatever keeps you distracted while he is saving the multiverse.

It’s also…nice to talk about work with you. With her, he had to act normal and make up excuses for his sudden disappearances. It’s refreshing to see your concern and know that you are praying for his safety. To imagine your relieved smile when he comes home.

“Miguel!” LYLA reappears between the two of you. “I hate to ruin the moment, but Spider-Woman could really use some help right now. I know you’re counting the seconds!”

No more time to waste.

“I’ll see you later.” He lets go of you and walks into the portal.

“Take care!” you call after him.

iv. triangle web

“Welcome home, love!”

As the door opened, Miguel resisted the urge to flinch. The lights were always too bright.

His Variant’s wife wasted no time hugging him. “What took you so long?”

“Something at work came up,” he explained, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Again?” You closed the door behind him, a frown replacing your smile. “That’s the third time this month. Is there a problem in your office?”

“It’s…classified information. But nothing to worry about, mi sol.”

The house felt lively, even with Gabriella temporarily away. Warm lights. Family photos. Personal belongings scattered about. Your cheerful presence leading him.

The TV in the living room was on, paused at the beginning of a new film. Movie nights were an old family routine, he’d learned. The first time Miguel arrived in your husband’s place, you and Gabriella had agreed on an animated classic.

“Okay then. I’m just glad your office isn’t in the same area as that crime from earlier. Was there any debris blocking the road?”

“Not much.” And definitely none on the route to your workplace.

Upstairs, Miguel took a shower and contacted LYLA. The Anomaly had been returned to its original dimension. If he were lucky, none would appear tomorrow.

You were on the sofa when he came back. Wordlessly, he sat next to you and you rested your head on his shoulder. The film began playing.

“I called Gabriella,” you murmured. “She and her friends are already planning their next sleepover. I’ll pick her up tomorrow morning.”

“That’s good to hear. Have you gift-wrapped her present?”

A pearl ring glinted above your intertwined hands. “It’s in my closet.”

Note to self: Ask LYLA to record the party. It will be a nice memory to revisit.

He smiled at you. “I can’t wait to see her reaction.”

The movie had a happy ending. It was, in your words, a cinematic masterpiece.

-

“That’s how it ends?”

Your outburst prompts Miguel to face the opposite end of the sofa. In the dim light, he can easily make out the unimpressed look on your face.

“The ending looks decent to me,” he muses. “If you ignore the logistics of their reunion, the film is entertaining enough to rewatch.”

“I think it could be more realistic. And you’re saying that across the multiverse, this is the most common version of the movie?”

“In five dimensions, to be exact. Others have the same ending but different actors.”

You pause. “I’ll admit that Earth-928’s version has superior costume design. But I still prefer my dimension’s neutral ending. Maybe it’s because our societal values are different.”

The closing credits continue, but neither of you leave the sofa. You’re still criticizing the film under your breath, unaware that Miguel can understand every word. He does agree that the happy ending causes a few plot holes.

At least with you, he can adjust the brightness levels.

“We can watch your version next time,” he offers, reaching for the remote with his webs.

“Really? You don’t mind?”

He turns off the TV. “We can do it on my next day off.”

Knowing LYLA, this won’t be the last time she plans a movie night without telling him.

“Well, what else could I do?” she asked after he privately demanded an explanation. “You’ve been working yourself too hard, Miguel. You could really use a break, and so does ______.”

You take the remote from him and untangle the web fluid. “Do you mind if I keep this?”

Miguel gives you an odd look. “For what reason?”

You twist the web in your hands, forming string figures.

“As a decoration, maybe. Oh, and for the record, I don’t go around collecting webs from your coworkers. I just find yours particularly interesting.”

Weirdo. “My webs are functional like the others’. That’s all there is to it.”

You look him in the eye this time. “Hey, you should give yourself more credit. It’s my belief that every spiderweb is a work of art. And before you call me overly romantic, there have always been artists who thought they were worth noticing."

The web loops around your ring finger, in the place where her wedding ring used to be.

He averts his gaze. “I don’t see it that way. But whatever works for you.”

Another moment of silence.

“There is another reason,” you add softly.

He side-eyes you. “Is it about that day? You don’t need to keep thanking me for saving your life. As I said, I was doing my job and anyone would’ve done the same.”

“I wasn’t talking about you catching me.”

Oh, you meant that.

The web tangles in your hands.

“Listen.” You take a deep breath, eyes on your lap. “I know you’ve been avoiding this subject. Maybe it's so I don’t feel indebted to you or pressured into reliving bad memories. But…I just want you to know that I’m glad you foiled my plans.”

…It would be best to let you finish first.

Your voice shakes. “I mean, you’re smart, aren’t you? Even without my meltdown, you would’ve figured out that my fall had nothing to do with the Anomaly in my dimension.”

He did. And that was precisely why Miguel mistook you for one at first. It wasn’t just your identity but the fact that you were found in danger after the Anomaly had been captured.

Ten minutes post-battle. The undamaged state of the nearby buildings. The passive acceptance in your demeanor.

He can vividly recall the rest of that day. Those hours spent studying your personal data, identifying every action and condition which diverged from his wife's path.

A loud sigh. “I just—I couldn’t take it anymore, okay? I thought it would be easier to put an end to my mistakes, then you had to show up. And thanks to you, life has been great! I like this world, I’m not alone, I still have my personal issues to work through but I’m trying to do better. But yeah…I’m just sorry for forcing you to get involved.”

“It’s not your fault,” he insists. He scoots closer to you and puts his hand on top of yours. “I made the choice to bring you here. And I couldn’t exactly leave you, knowing your situation.”

That is a lie. Rather, half of his thoughts were about his wife and how he’d been able to sustain her happiness. How that farce proved he could do the same for you.

“Either way, I’m grateful.” You look up, your lips curving into a shy smile. “I’m really happy now, Miguel. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I’ll never regret my decision to follow a cryptic stranger into a portal. Even if it meant learning that the multiverse is in constant danger. Or that my favorite film has an alternate ending which makes no sense to me whatsoever.”

Has his wife ever looked at him like that? There is a soft brilliance to your gaze, wholly reserved for him. It triggers a warm feeling in his chest.

The moment is quickly ended when you cover your face with a cushion.

“Anyway! If you don’t mind, I’d really love to move on and talk about something else. How was your mission earlier? Is Earth-199999 still giving you a hard time?”

You’re still seated next to him, legs touching. Your tone leaves no room for objection.

He lets go of your hand. “You would not believe what kind of shocking messes we’ve had to deal with. We are never recruiting Dr. Strange or his little nerd.”

“You can tell me all about it.” You untangle his web from your hands; it loops around your pinky finger this time. “I’m here for you, okay? For as long as you’ll have me.”

v. mesh web

There have been more Anomalies lately.

You walk past the detained villains, silently counting them. Their increase in numbers has kept the Spider Society on high alert for the past weeks. While it means more documents for you, the effect on Miguel’s stress levels is concerning.

Come to think of it, has he returned from his mission yet? If not, you hope the cafeteria’s takeout boxes have a self-heating function. As you get closer to Miguel's laboratory, you hear the door open. The sound is followed by two sets of footsteps.

“Do you think it’s healthy for him?”

“I’m more worried about ______.”

You stop walking.

Is that Peter B and Jess? Why are they talking about you?

Jess’s tone is reproachful. “The poor girl has been through so much already. It’s not safe for her to be here, at least in HQ. He knows that she is a different case from Gwen.”

“You know how Miguel is. I’ve already asked about her, and he won’t tell me anything new. Not even my Super Adorable Mayday album could convince him.”

“I don’t like this, Peter.”

Their footsteps become louder. You go back to the entrance of the hallway, just within earshot but hopefully far enough to evade their Spider-Senses.

“Neither do I. But you should’ve seen him when he lost their daughter, Jess. Now think of his wife: He never got to see ______ before she disintegrated. Then one day, out of nowhere, after staying away from countless Variants, he finds a version of her who needs him.”

…What the hell are they talking about?

The walls close in on you. You take a step back, followed by another.

Then, at the sound of a sharp “Is someone there?”, you drop the takeout box and run.

Their daughter. His wife. A version of her.

You already know that Miguel lost a family in another dimension. It was briefly mentioned when he warned you about Canon disruptions, but he refused to share the details. Is this why?

This whole time…you are a Variant of his wife?

You aren’t followed. Your coworkers cheerfully greet you, but you ignore them and return to your desk. It’s arranged the way you like it, complete with personal decorations. The drawer holds a stress ball in your favorite color, a gift from Miguel of all people.

You never did tell him that it is your go-to stress reliever. Was it the same for her?

You squeeze the ball and take deep breaths, but the action does little to calm you.

It all makes sense. Why else would Miguel take an interest in you?

Your gaze lands on your Dimensional Travel Watch before you remember that the idea is futile. Yours is only a modified version which prevents glitches but can’t be used for travel. And the Go-Home Machine would require Spider-Byte’s help.

…Why are you even wasting your time on an escape plan? How are you sure that you won’t mess up and make another mistake?

“______?” LYLA appears in front of your face. Her greeting sounds different.

He knows.

You force yourself to answer. “Y-Yes?”

“Miguel is back.” She flickers as usual, but it doesn’t change the nervous look on her face. “He wants to see you.”

꒰♡꒱

Peter B will be dead when he gets to him.

Several screens surround Miguel, each playing CCTV footage. He focuses on a live recording of you on your way to his laboratory.

At least you are complying with his orders.

The platform is fully lowered by the time you get there.

“Hey…welcome back,” you stammer. “How was the mission?”

“It was fine,” he replies brusquely. “Jess and Peter B spoke with me as soon as I came back. I was just confirming the status of Earth-67 when I checked the CCTVs. Care to explain?”

A heavy silence falls between the two of you. LYLA is nowhere to be seen.

Your panic is evident. Your gaze wanders, at everything but Miguel, until it stops at the dented takeout box on his desk. “Is that…is the food still warm? Or have you already eaten in Earth-67? I forgot to ask in advance.”

He glares at you. “Are you seriously worrying about my lunch right now?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to say?” you shoot back. The anger in your tone is unmistakable. “‘Hey, Miguel, when was I supposed to know that we were a family in the dimension you accidentally collapsed?’ Does that sound any better?!”

“Believe me, I was going to leave you alone at first.” He grips the edge of his desk, resisting the urge to raise his voice. “But how could I do it after the way you reacted?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault? You could’ve easily said no! This whole time, I wondered why you were so willing to help me. I thought you were being nice, that you believed giving me a better life was worth all these risky accommodations. Was…was I wrong?”

Your voice cracks at the last part, and you hastily wipe your eyes. It’s reminiscent of your first meeting, the distressed shock which Miguel had never seen in his wife. Only that time, you had sought out his comfort.

“Tell me, was it because of her?” you whisper. Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill. “Is that all you’ve ever seen in me?”

“You have the wrong idea.” Miguel approaches you, but you instinctively back away. He raises his hands in a placating gesture. “If you would just listen to me—”

“How can I?!”

Your hand settles on your wrist, unconsciously fiddling with your Dimensional Travel Watch. The clasp loosens, and his reaction is immediate.

He grips your arm. “Don’t do that! You’ll get yourself—”

“Let go of me!”

You pull back, clawing at his wrist, but Miguel's grasp only tightens. His other hand taps the watch’s controls to activate the Lock feature.

“This is for your own good, ______." In the split second that he releases you, his webs shoot out and bind your limbs together.

“No!” You collapse onto the floor. The scarlet threads dig into your skin, emitting a harsh glow in the dark. “Please, just let me go!”

After everything he’s been through, he is not losing you again.

Ignoring the stab of guilt, he picks you up and salvages what is left of his composure.

“You see, this is why I didn’t tell you.” He sighs, already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

You’re still shaking in his grasp, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I…I’m not—”

His kiss easily silences you. It’s far from intimate but the sensations are familiar. Warm lips. The scent of your perfume. The addictive rush of euphoria. Physical and chemical reactions which couldn’t be adequately explained in words.

And the whimper that escapes your lips when Miguel pulls back to press a light kiss to your forehead.

“We can continue this conversation when we get home.”

vi. cobweb

Your days in the Spider Society are over.

Not permanently. Miguel says that you can resume work once you’ve calmed down, but you doubt it will happen under any pretense of freedom.

Since your confrontation, you’ve been confined in his home. As it turns out, Miguel had already prepared for this—locks, alarms, hidden cameras, a comprehensive speech which only elevates your horror.

“She wouldn’t want this,” you keep insisting. You writhe against your restraints, but the webs remain taut against your skin. “How would your ______ feel if she knew?!”

“She’s not here anymore.” Miguel looks away from your face, as though the reminder physically pains him. “What matters now is that I have you. The both of us can start over.”

“How can you say that?!” At this point, you’re on the verge of hysteria. “You…you don’t actually love me. You’re only doing this because I’m the closest you have to getting her back!”

The hand on your cheek makes you flinch. The gentle caress does little to soothe you, not with the underlying threat of his claws. His eyes flash red in the dim light, brimming with—what do you call it? Grief? Desperation? Obsession?

You can’t tell, not when those sentiments are for someone else.

“You only say that because you don’t know any better,” he says softly. His lips meet yours, trapping you in a deep kiss. “Now get some rest, mi sol. It’s been a long day, and we know how you get when you’re stressed.”

My sun. What a lie. Since when have you done anything to deserve such a title?

You can’t bother to fight back. You’re too tired to think, to resist the kiss, to move an inch as Miguel undos your restraints and tucks you into bed.

Instead, you close your eyes and retreat into slumber. But even in your last seconds of consciousness, his gaze is strongly felt.

-

As it turns out, Miguel really did consider all possibilities. Your Dimensional Travel Watch has an exclusive Lock feature, should you ever be tempted to escape him through death. It can only be removed during your scheduled baths, with LYLA acting as your timer.

You rarely talk to her, either. She clearly feels sorry for you, but not enough to help. She monitors your daily activity, keeps you company when Miguel is away, and tries to cheer you up. She has yet to accomplish the last task.

Against your better judgment, you ask her about your Variant. She is resistant at first, knowing the negative outcome, but you are persistent. In the end, LYLA decides that it’s better to show you a few videos than for you to ask Miguel directly.

…Your Variant is perfect. Pretty. Carefree. Successful. A calming presence. You can see why Miguel would fall for her, with how she effortlessly puts a smile on his face.

Among your Variants, isn’t there one who bears a closer resemblance to her? Or were they too important to leave without disrupting the Canon? Is that why he settled for you?

“You have a better sense of style,” LYLA offhandedly mentions. “It was Miguel who said that. And do you know that he calls you one of our best workers?”

It doesn’t make you feel any better. “I see. Thanks for letting me know.”

As LYLA predicted, the information only makes you feel worse. You can’t stop thinking about your other self. How did she turn out like that? How did she succeed in your failures? How has Miguel perceived his moments with you, as new memories or a replica of lost time?

You don’t want to ask him. You’ve had enough disappointments for one lifetime.

Neither do you make an escape plan. On the low chance that you succeed, you don’t have anywhere to go. The Spider Society, or most of them, is loyal to Miguel. And it’s not like you’d be better off in your dimension, back to your empty home and dead-end job and daily reminders of your insignificance.

At least here, you can feel valued. Even if you owe that to someone else.

꒰♡꒱

“I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but I told you so.”

Miguel doesn’t look up from the screens. “Now is not the time for this.”

LYLA is anything but smug. ”Are you sure? Because you said that when I asked if you’d ever tell her the truth, and look where that went. A civil explanation might’ve been nice.”

“How is she?”

“No better than with you.”

The CCTV switches to the kitchen. By now, you've established a new routine—lie awake in bed, rearrange your room, watch TV, cook your own meals. It's repetitive but easy to follow.

He zooms in on the ingredients. “Do you see anything suspicious?”

“No potential poisons,” LYLA responds, equally focused. “Oh, is she cooking dinner again? Last night’s meal looked really good.”

“It probably helps. Gives her something to preoccupy herself with.”

In the end, you’ve chosen the docile route. You’re still tense around Miguel, but your behavior can’t even be counted as malicious compliance. You just go through your new routine, trying to create some semblance of normalcy in confinement.

Though internally speaking, he has no access to your thoughts.

“She’s quite different from his wife, isn’t she?” asks LYLA. “I like this version of ______.”

Miguel zooms in on you this time. In your current state, you’ve revealed more contrasts to his Variant’s wife. It actually doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

When did his feelings for you begin? Was it when he saved you? When he saw a spark of his beloved in you? When that spark turned out to be your own brilliance?

All he knows is that you’re the one who consumes his thoughts nowadays. Your distinct preferences, your little quirks, your quiet words, your uncertain expressions, your attitude towards him and no other Miguel.

...There must be a way to persuade you. If Miguel was able to play along with his Variant’s family, to the point that his love for them became genuine, the same can be said for you. He just needs to prove that you can and will be happy together.

The only thing missing would be Gabriella.

vii. sheet web

You’ve been promoted to Miguel’s bedmate.

His room isn’t much. It is dark, minimalist, often empty due to the nature of his work. There are zero mementos of his lost family, not even a framed photo or something of her influence.

They’re probably hidden somewhere. How considerate.

On most nights, you act oblivious to your new sleeping arrangement. You just say good night to Miguel, lie down on your side of the bed, and try to fall asleep as quickly as possible.

…That turns out to be more difficult than expected. Try as you might to feign sleep, you can’t relax in Miguel’s grasp. He holds you tightly in his sleep, your back pressed against his chest. You wonder if it is a familiar position or a means of keeping you close.

Lately, he has switched tactics. Movie nights have become a regular pastime. You’ve received permission to work from home, sans contact with the Spider Society. The two of you have even gone outside for a few dates, though his grip on your hand discourages any escape attempts. Awkwardness aside, he’s been more physically affectionate.

It’s absolutely jarring, but you’re somewhat grateful for the added comforts. If your choices are different from his wife’s, Miguel doesn’t seem to mind.

This should be fine. It’s better than when he was acting like an overprotective control freak…even if those methods had left no speculation as to who the intended receiver was. With this approach, you can never be sure if Miguel sees you or his wife in front of him.

You try not to dwell on it more than you already have. You’re still here. Your living conditions have marginally improved. Miguel doesn’t expect you to be more like her.

You just need to keep it together, like you always have.

That is what you keep telling yourself, up until the night Miguel asks for your thoughts on starting a family.

-

“No. Please, stop!”

Red. In the dark, all you can see is red.

The lurid color wraps around you, binding your wrists to the headboard. The webs are taut, no-frills, effective in their sole purpose of keeping you trapped.

No, what’s worse is Miguel. His gaze is trained on you, scarlet orbs alight with crazed desire and your own terrified reflection.

“Stop struggling,” he sighs as he pins you down. Blood decorates his bare arms, from where your scratches failed to stop him. “You’re only going to get yourself hurt.”

You continue, anyway, only to scream as he leans down and sinks his fangs into your neck. It hurts, the flesh burns, everything feels heavy—

You can’t move.

It doesn’t take long for the venom to kick in. The numbness spreads throughout your body, leaving you dizzy and helpless. Your limbs won’t cooperate at all.

Yet despite the paralysis, the pain stays with you. It’s the only sensation you can feel—the sharp ache in your neck, the chafing around your wrists, the sting from where Miguel accidentally scratched your thigh while tearing off your clothes.

“Mi sol, you are still tense,” he mutters. His lips remain on your neck, administering light kisses to the fresh wound. A clawed hand presses down on the bed, puncturing the fabric, to support his weight. “You need to calm down.”

You can only bite your lip as he moves on to your chest, tainting the skin with love bites. His other hand retracts its claws and strokes your stomach, tracing—are those patterns supposed to be her stretch marks?

Of course he memorized them. She must be on his mind right now.

You squeeze your eyes shut, but the ministrations continue. His thumb strokes your hip, eliciting a stifled moan, and the self-inflicted darkness gives way to the sight of Miguel’s irritated expression.

“You’re not listening to me, ______.” His eyes flash, daring you to try again. The sight of his exposed fangs, speckled with your own blood, triggers another wave of dread.

Should you even be surprised that he knows your sensitive spots? He already made it clear that any form of escape is in vain.

It's pure torture. It would be easier if Miguel would just have his way with you, use your body to his heart’s content, leave you to your thoughts. But no, he is taking his time and making sure that you physically enjoy this. Ensuring that you will be ready for what comes next.

“S-Stop.” Your lips are still numb, but you manage to form words. “I said…I don’t want this! I’m not ready!”

“Shh.” He silences you with another kiss, his palm pressing down on your stomach. “You’re only saying this because it’s our first time. You have to trust me.”

It’s hard to believe him when you know that his composure is slipping. What is he trying to hide? His ragged breaths? The hardness pressed against your inner thigh? The urgency with which he lifts your legs up onto his shoulders?

“You’ll understand once our child is here,” he says. He breaks off the kiss, his voice hushed to a reverent whisper. “We will be so happy, happier than you can ever imagine.”

“You’re lying…I can’t—!”

You can’t stand to look at him. His gaze is so cruel, clouded with love, adoration, hope. Skies, he looks so hopeful. You don’t want to wait for the day he looks at you differently.

Was this how he looked at her? How did she return his gaze? It must’ve been passionate. It must’ve been romantic. It must’ve been so promising.

“I can’t give you Gabriella!”

The world stops as soon as those words leave your mouth.

“...What did you just say?” Miguel stares at you, eyes wide.

Of all Variants, why did it have to be you?

That is when you burst into tears.

How humiliating. It’s hard to breathe, it must be an ugly sight, and you can’t do anything to cover your face. But it’s enough to make Miguel stop and listen to you.

“I can’t give you Gabriella,” you repeat in choked sobs. “It requires an exact time, specific cells and DNA. And even if we succeed, I can’t raise her into the child you knew. I...I can’t restore your family. I can’t be her.”

In the end, you will only disappoint him.

“______…” He raises his hand to wipe your tears, but you interrupt him with a glare.

“Honestly, why did it have to be me?!” you shout. “Why couldn’t you have found a better duplicate of your wife? This wouldn’t be happening if you’d chosen the right ______!”

He doesn't respond.

For a few seconds, all you can hear is your own pitiful weeping. You vaguely register the feeling of your legs hitting the mattress, of the absence of Miguel’s touch, but you keep your eyes closed. It’s easier that way.

Suddenly, there is the sound of threads snapping. Then the sensation of strong hands coming under your back, lifting you upwards, pulling you into an embrace.

Your eyes fly open. “What—”

“Ya, calladita.”

Miguel…is he hugging you? He holds you tightly, repeating the words in a hushed tone. The message is followed by a string of curses which, judging by the way he turns away from you, must be solely directed at himself.

Paralyzed, you can only stare down at your lap. At his webs, still wrapped around your wrists but no longer connected to the bed. “What are you—”

“Could you let me talk for a second?" he snaps. He tilts your face upwards, allowing you to take in his glare. “You are my first choice. Not the version of you from Earth-94, Earth-835, or any other dimension in the multiverse. It doesn’t matter that you are different from her.”

This can’t be true. “Still, I—”

“As for Gabriella, you’re right." There is a flash of resignation in his gaze, so sorrowful that it clashes with his words. “I knew that from the start.”

“...Then why?”

Your head spins. His hands are still on you, caressing your cheek and keeping you in his grasp. The numbness gives way to warmth.

“Well, it doesn’t change the fact that any child from you will be ours,” he answers. His voice softens, as does his gaze. “Just as you are mine and I am yours.”

The words get stuck in your throat. “Are…are you sure?”

How can he say such a thing? Your sense of hearing must be damaged. It is the only logical explanation as to why—

The look in his eyes leaves no room for doubt. “I promise.”

...What else can you possibly say?

Your vision blurs. Miguel is still speaking, another quiet reassurance from the sound of it, but it’s all static in your head.

What the hell are you supposed to do with this information? It’s beyond your comprehension, too subjective and unproven for the likes of you. And yet you feel…good. Happy. So, so happy despite everything you have been through.

Skies, you are truly pathetic.

No, what’s more pathetic is the way you cry harder and melt into Miguel’s embrace. It’s the way you listen to his remaining praises and beg him to keep talking. To list everything about you that is good and faultless and desirable to him, everything he thought was worth noticing.

And when he kisses you, you willingly reciprocate.

-

The darkness is soothing.

The dim lights cast the bedroom in shadows. It’s a blessing to your dizziness, your eyes tired from crying. With this obstacle to your vision, you can pretend that the previous hours never happened.

Almost. The soreness, the deft hands tending to your injuries, and the immense euphoria are impossible to ignore.

It’s also painful, unbearably painful now that the venom’s effect has fully worn off. You can only sit up and wince as Miguel disinfects another wound.

He looks up in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” You give him a weak smile as he bandages your thigh and mumbles a second apology. “I feel better already.”

His own injuries are equally evident, from your hesitant love bites to the scratch marks on his back. As guilty as you felt, you could only say so much before Miguel silenced you with a withering look.

…You will make it up to him tomorrow. If you are still capable of walking.

The thought leads you to cry into the pillow, muffling your curses. If Miguel can understand you, he doesn’t say anything. Rather, he closes the first aid kit and holds your hand.

“I’ll draw a bath,” he tells you. “Can you wait for a few minutes?”

Your thumb brushes against his pulse point. His heart rate is frustratingly calm, perhaps slightly above average if you are to flatter yourself. Maybe you can count the number of beats and ask LYLA tomorrow. She will be happy to confirm it.

You meet his gaze, intertwining your fingers with his. “Sure.”

You’d like to think that his last kiss is another promise.

With that, Miguel stands up and leaves the room. As for you, you lie down and go back to screaming into the pillow. Tired as you feel, you haven’t felt this thrilled in years.

Then the spiderwebs catch your attention. They’re still stuck to your wrists, albeit frayed. There are loose threads from where Miguel broke them.

Red. Illuminating the dark, holding you close, keeping you safe.

Carefully, you pick apart the threads and twist them around your hand.

No string figures this time. Your technique is clumsy, irregular, lacking beauty and order. Nonetheless, you continue until your left hand is covered in a glovelike pattern.

The final knot is above your ring finger. It’s a perfect fit.

It is the prettiest thing you have ever seen.

♡

Author's Note ๑ Side Story 1 ๑ Prologue ๑ Epilogue ๑ Side Story 2

“I’m just going to write a short post to purge my brainrot,” I say, shortly before Miguel O’Hara unlocks a core memory of me reading The Spider and the Fly and inspires me to write 7.6k words with literary references.

Thank you so much to @diodellet for beta-reading this and @yanmaresu for helping me with the Spanish phrases!! As for my readers, I hope you enjoyed my take on Yandere! Miguel and his darling. Do entertain me with your comments and brainrot ⸜(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)⸝

Tag a Miguel O’Hara enjoyer!! @kocherry @yandere-romanticaa @yandere-daydreams @bweoo @h2o2-and-baking-soda @ansy-tea @yandere-wishes @weebsinstash @curesi @robindere @crystalcrynight @mrlidocaine @handsomeunderwear-art @blughxreader @chiikasevennn @fortheloveofleon

#miguel o’hara #yandere miguel o’hara x reader #yandere miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #yandere spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: manipulation #tw: kidnapping #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: suicide #tw: noncon #spicy warning #mdni #fem reader #yandere miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #yandere miguel o’hara #yandere atsv #lyla #atsv x reader #atsv #atsv spoilers #atsv miguel #atsv lyla #spiderman 2099 #jessamine-writing

[evegwood]

The Language of the Lords reflects everything the ruling class holds dear: triumph, treasure, and the elite status of the demonic race. Poems and stories are shared through the oral tradition of performance and writing is usually reserved for "historical" documents, grandiose retellings of events that may or may not have gone down quite as recorded. For this reason, the demonic writing style does not lend itself well to quick note-taking or casual texts.

The demonic script is made up of glyphs featuring imagery important to demons; angel imagery is usually reserved for phonetic symbols or less important elements. The script contains several different types of glyphs: heads, slabs, flags, pillars, and banners. Each serves a different phonetic and grammatical purpose.

Heads are used to indicate important words like nouns and verb roots. A single head represents one syllable; words comprised of more than one syllable are made up of multiple heads in a row biting each other. The head is made up of four parts: the eye (initial consonant), nose (vowel), mouth (final consonant), and the ornamentation.

The Language of the Lords has a limited number of syllables and features many homonyms. To avoid confusion, context is given through a head's ornamentation, indicating to the reader which category that word belongs to. For example, fa could mean "rib", "spruce", or "nail"; by using the body, plant or tool ornamentation respectively, the intended meaning is clear. While the category of word is often omitted in spoken conversation, it is always included in writing. If a word is made up of multiple heads, the ornamentation is placed on the final head.

Left: madlas(shi), "snow Right: hebdod(be), "oil substance"

You can read more about the Language of the Lords here!

#IM CRAZY IM CRAZY IM CRAZY #conlangs #conscripts #not art #lmao #as usual this isn't free for use i'm just sharing a fun project :]

[iveriee]

★;CATEGORY: A yandere x Reader

★;PAIRING: Yan!Tom Riddle x Gn!Reader.

★;SUMMARY: In which, he gets utterly envious of your s/o.

★;PS: This contains severe mentions of abusive and obsessive behaviours, Henceforth if you are uncomfortable with any of such topics, Please do not read this. I do not encourage toxic behaviour and this is only a work of fiction. I'm aware that I should be writing Part 3 of the Yule Ball fic, However, I've decided not to continue it. I deeply apologize, i just did not have any ideas on how to continue it. However, if you have any sort of suggestions, please let me know. I'll write anything as long as it's relevant and appropriate. I understand the anxiety of requesting a scenario at times, I quite literally am terrified of doing so myself.

★;EXTRA QUESTION: What's your favorite Taylor Swift song and why?

To say your life was mundane would be an understatement—Boredom filled your senses, even if it was Hogwarts you were attending. But perhaps, the truthful reason was that you did not share any classes with s/o/n. Your state was truly pitiable, Words engraved on pages were mere symbols to you—Questions, Paragraphs,Instructions, Incantations, etc all demolished right out of your mind like a prompt broom. The ending of classes were one of the only things that brought you joy. On a fretful Tuesday, you hurried out of the dungeon, sprinting profusely, eventually concluding by frisking right on s/o/n, legs enclosed on their waist.

"[Name]?" They questioned, astonished by your actions.

"I really missed you..." You murmured in response. "I wish we had classes together. I don't particularly enjoy studying anymore.."

Their expression configured into a frown. "[Name], you know you have to study. I don't want you to fail." Their hands found the route to your hair, fondling it dotingly(which, of course, made you grin) only to place you back on the ground.. "Please. I only want what's best for you." They added delicately.

However, you were not even aware of the most crucial thing. In the midst of your affections with s/o/n, You had been utterly and completely examined by none other than Tom Riddle. His envy and infatuation had been rooted extensively, like a coping plant—growing and growing until it surpasses the garden, destroying it in the process. He had harboured a bitter hatred towards s/o/n, so much so it turned into desires of murder. Why couldn't you comprehend how much he was better than them? He was the ideal student...with precisely placed dark curls, a charismatic (albeit untrue) smile, excellent grades, beloved by everyone..And so in many's eyes, even flawless...could it perhaps be that you were aware of his true nature? No. It simply was not decipherable. You could not have been aware. However, he should focus on you at this moment...he told himself..(or perhaps reassured?)... He could have perhaps done anything for you, anything to please you,whether it was unjust or not, yet this was what he received in turn? Perhaps he should have tortured you until you submitted. But then again, he could not watch you sobbing.

So, henceforth, it all led to you weeping nevertheless. The exception being that it was over s/o/n's corpse, not wounded, not varnished but frigid. Cold. Their eyes were vacant, no longer were they gazing at you gently. And they never would.Never again would you sprint to them after class and embrace them.... s/o/n was dead. And tears crowded your eyes, plummeting down your cheeks. How could somebody be so vicious? How could somebody use the killing curse on them without a second thought? Why was the world so brutal? Perhaps..you should have studied. After all, they did not wish for you to fail in your O.W.LS...

And so Riddle concealed his smirk and approached you, his ego calloused when you did not turn your gaze at him. His hand idled on your shoulders, in an almost comforting manner. "I sincerely apologise for your loss, [Last name]." He murmured, almost seductively if it weren't for your grief. Mine he wondered to himself. They are rightfully mine.

#harry potter #hp fandom #tom marvolo riddle #lord voldemort #yandere tom riddle #tom riddle #male yandere #yandere #jealousy #tom riddle x reader #yandere x reader #yandere tom riddle x reader

[dancingwithfoxes]

10 little subtle ways and things you could be doing that are witchy!

(esp if you're still in the broom closet) ❤️🦊

1. virtual and online altars

pinterest boards dedicated to your gods/goddesses; quotes and aesthetics.

tumblr dedication blogs.

social media page with your witchy alias.

discord server, a private place to organise channels and create categories for what you want, i.e., spellwork, candle magick, crystal associations, etc.

music playlists, for both manifesting and connecting with your deities, they love coming through music.

2. journal/book altars

similar to the idea of a book of shadows, this will be personal writings and thoughts for specific deities.

you can customise it and decorate it much like a physical altar! i.e., stickers, washi tapes, markers, sparkles.

custom spreads for whomever you work with, you can put prayers you've written for them, words you want to convey, and express.

3. the wooden box altar, also known as a travelling altar

a place to put all your trinkets and necessities.

if you're unable to have a physical space, having one that's portable will help you take your altar wherever you go.

you can carve/paint the box to be more personal for you, or to be ultra discreet about it you can just customise the inner part so it doesn't stick out to people you don't want knowing yet.

4. origami shapes

for manifesting, write out what you would like and fold it into a star to carry out the manifestation.

use the idea of symbolism to embed your intentions, for luck, a four leaf clover. for allowing new opportunities to find you and let go, a butterfly, to succeed in something you could make a bird; "soaring to new heights."

you could also use this time to connect with your deities, just being with them in the moment.

5. financial abundance

if you can't blow cinnamon on the first day of the new month, put a dash of it in your morning coffee or tea first thing.

use of coins in the soil of your plants welcomes in prosperity.

likewise with coins, frogs are symbolic of wealth.

a bay leaf where you keep your wallet/purse, the exchange of the money you give out you will receive back with a little extra.

6. kitchen magick/green witchery

add spices/herbs to help achieve something you want i.e.,

pancakes with vanilla and honey to bring in loving and warm energy.

adding pepper/salt/basil/rosemary to encourage protection.

for clarity and insight, chamomile tea.

to have peaceful and calm resolve, lemonade with fresh mint leaves.

7. clothing and jewellery

wearing items of clothing or jewellery in honour of your deities, i.e.

rings, bracelets, and necklaces that symbolise something of them for you.

shirts with quotes you feel resemble them; colour associations work plenty.

if you crochet or make your own items of clothing, knot magick or sewing in a symbol that means something for you can help you feel confident when wearing it.

8. self-care can be devotional

doing things that make you happy whilst doing it in honour of your deities allows them to be present in your simple joys.

writing, poetry, reading; feeling called to read something because it holds a message for you.

indulging a show or something you watched in your childhood years, deities take pleasure in watching something that means alot to you and will be grateful to share that moment.

treats and specific cravings, i.e., little upg, but loki loves sweet pastries.

taking a walk about in nature gives your deities more room to show you the beauty of the world. take them to your favourite bench, to your favourite coffee shop.

knot magick, if you crochet, make something in honour of your gods/goddesses. they will ensure it brings you comfort when you hold it.

painting your nails, you can charge your nail polish beneath the moon or mix in a little moon water to be energised and intuitively connected.

9. cleansing and clearing of old energy

water

will help the bad flow out and let the good flow in.

showers/baths are good for self-cleansing.

holding a glass of water before drinking it and wish your intentions.

crying, allowing yourself to feel what it is you're trying to process in order for it to be released. can't release something you haven't finished going through yet.

moon water, I recommend this during a new moon as that's more symbolic to starting anew, planting seeds and encouragement toward growth.

sun water, can help with energising you and bringing in positive energy, also a confidence boost.

earth

holding onto a crystal for a few moments, just breathing in and out.

crystals can be used for cleansing, smoky quartz, clear quartz. there is a crystal for all your needs.

plants! plants are great for protection and for taking in bad energy. they will listen to what you have to say, and will love you as much as you love them.

food, especially grown from the earth can help you feel refreshed and buzzing with energy.

fire

burning, writing out your hardships, struggles, anger and burning them (safely please).

lighting a candle while you work on something, very therapeutic, and you can visualise the bad energy being burnt out and released.

incense, the smoke is a natural cleanser and will do wonders. you aren't restricted to using sage to cleanse; others you could use are myrrh, sandalwood, lavender, or cedar. it's completely up to what your preferences are.

air

breathing in and out during meditation, as you take in some air and release it, upon release visualise what you're letting go of.

bells, the frequency of dinging bells helps to disperse bad energy.

sound cleansing through soft music, and intentional frequencies. you'll find alot of these up on youtube.

10. divination methods (aside from tarot/pendulums that i know of)

clouds, observing what you see and the shapes you recognise, what you need to know will be reflected in nature.

ceromancy, candle wax, burning a candle after asking for some clarity or an answer and having the wax form a shape for you to interpret.

numerology, angel numbers, and the significance of the numbers.

automatic writing, done in your personal journal, it's unconscious writing that can help channel messages you may need.

bibliomancy, randomly selecting a passage or words from a book.

capnomancy, the use of smoke from candles or incense, and reading the shapes and forms casted by the smoke

conchomancy, divination through seashells, shapes, and the type of shell.

casting a set of charms on a cloth and divinating the meaning of where they landed.

#witch #witchcraft #witches #witchblr #witchy #witches on tumblr #pagan #norse paganism #norse gods #norse pantheon #lokean #norse heathen #nordic witch #norse pagan witch #old norse #witch aesthetic #witchyvibes #witchcore #pagan witch #spiritual

[rthko]

Hey, I remember reading a while ago a post or two of yours about the word faggot, specifically as almost a third/"failed" gender. I've come to identify with the word a lot myself as I've figured out my sexuality and gender, so I was wondering if you had any further reading on the word and its history and reclamation that I could look into? Thanks!

First, I'm glad this post resonated with you! I unfortunately can't help much with the etymology or history of the term itself, but maybe I can help with the concept I use it to represent. It has been an ongoing project of mine to articulate, if nothing else to myself, the specificities of gayness. "Gay" refers to too wide a range of experiences to really be specific, but I am referring to those of us for whom "gay" refers not to the mere fact of our desires but what distinguishes us in a gestural and cultural level from other men. In effect, a gender in its own right. When writing that post I opted for "faggot," because what I wanted to described referred not just to male homosexuality but the experience of having chance or the expectation to live as men and symbolically or literally rejecting it.

I have a lot to say but I'll try to keep it brief. When I have articulated something like this in the past, some people have commended it saying that there's a lot of writing on lesbian as a gender but not the same for gays. This is not entirely true. Karl Heinrichs Ulrichs was the first to write of and identify with homosexuality as an essential characteristic, but this version of homosexuality was the urning, or "woman enclosed in the body of a man." We would recognize this today as trans womanhood, although there is great writing by trans women challenging the "wrong body" framing. This concept came to be known as inversion, which sexologists co-signed often in good faith but to predictably unhelpful ends. This concept is understandably obsolete because of its essentialism, the proliferation of trans theory, and of course the offense it poses to gay men. But as someone who has always self-identified and been externally considered at the fringes of manhood, I took a strange comfort in it. To know that gay men and trans women were grouped together in this uneasy alliance goes against ahistorical notions that transgenderism is an unwelcome intrusion into queerness.

So I guess the text I was looking for was The Faggots and their Friends Between the Revolutions by Larry Mitchell, 1977. People recommended me that book after my post, and I was stunned by its resonance. Mitchell waxes lyrical about the faggots, their allies the women, and their adversaries the men. His description of the faggot's identify formation is as follows:

The faggots once called themselves the men who love men. But they discovered that they did not love men, they loved only other men who loved men which was not that many of them. The men who hate others were false and death-inflicting and obsessed with being strangers. The men who hate others hate the men who love men. And this hatred is so strong that it turns the men who love men into the faggots.

Notice it does not use the logic of inversion or make any pretense of the faggots being women. Yet it does locate the point at which "faggots" detach from "men" and recognizes them as different categories. The post-stonewall pre-AIDS period in which this book was written produced a lot of "proto-nonbinary" identities, like faeries and queens. It's hard to determine by 21st century standards who in the mix counts as trans and who doesn't.

When I tried to articulate in more personal terms what this gray area means to me today, a lot of people found it resonant but a lot of people found it offensive. I felt like I owed apology to those who felt aggrieved, but the problem was that half considered it offensive that I considered myself related to transness in any way and the other half considered it offensive that I still described myself as cis. I was either a cis man who refused to check his privilege or a self hating non-binary person who just needed to come out already. I maintain that whatever you want to call me or what I want to call myself, there are material distinctions between me and most trans people that can't be ignored. And I think what keeps me from making the jump is that to introduce myself as nonbinary would make people tiptoe around language in a way I don't personally feel is necessary, but gayness has its own methods that work for me. I like the way we careen promiscuously between gendered scripts and signifiers, and the camp sensibility that refuses to take itself too seriously. I am also hesitant to describe myself as what Lyft would call "Women+."

This is a long post by Tumblr standards but if I were to really say everything I want to say Tumblr would not be the medium for it. But if you're looking for something to read on the subject, I recommend Larry Mitchell of course, Susan Sontag's Notes on Camp, Judith Butler's Gender Trouble (but just skip to part three and the conclusion honestly), Cruising Utopia by José Esteban Muñoz in part for his analysis of gesture in queer of color dance, and The Queer Art of Failure by J Halberstam that further elaborates on Muñoz's writings on failure and adds a butch perspective. Currently I am reading Male Subjectivity at the Margins by Kaja Silverman, which is a little psychoanalytic for my taste but offers a fascinating re-evaluation of inversion theory without endorsing it.

Despite all the effort I put into this post it will not be rebloggable sorry. 🤐

[ask-the-prose]

Building a Character Arc

Hi all! These past 8 months have been a busy time huh? I’m back and hoping to jumpstart this blog with a bit more organization. So let’s get started with our next guide!

We talk a lot about worldbuilding and plotting out stories, but there’s an important factor I haven’t seen much discussion around, and that is: character arcs.

We’ll be covering character building next week, as that will build off of this post. But building a character arc is just as important as knowing all the static facts about a character and how they react to the world you’ve built around them!

What is the character’s purpose?

We love to imagine our characters as people and real in our heads, but ultimately they are a tool to tell a story. So when building your character arc, you need to know what the purpose of this character is. How do they serve the story? How do they enhance the themes?

Characters can have tons of purposes, from the protagonist to the antagonist to cannon fodder. Characters can serve multiple purposes at one time, even. So what do you want your character to do for the story?

An example: in The Hunger Games, Gale Hawthorne serves a purpose far beyond just love interest #2. Gale helps propel the plotline in a number of ways. He spurs Katniss into action when he is whipped in the town square, he challenges Katniss’ worldviews both directly and indirectly by proposing ethical and complex questions that Katniss must later answer, and he’s symbolic of an answer to the main theme of the books. He isn’t relegated to just one of these purposes, but he does have to have one otherwise, he would be irrelevant words distracting from the actual story.

What changes within the character? What doesn’t?

Characters can be divided into two categories: static and dynamic. Static characters stay the same over the course of the story, whereas dynamic characters do not. So a good question to ask yourself when building a character arc is what, if anything, changes about the character over the course of the story?

One important factor to consider is the character’s attitude towards the world, the conflict, or the other characters. If that changes, how does it change? Why? What happens to cause that change? These questions can be applied to any number of factors you wish to include, like a character’s opinion of themselves or another concept, a character’s worldview, or a character’s feelings towards their circumstances.

If the character is a static character, why? Does it serve the story’s themes?

Is your character an active participant or reacting to plot events?

Naturally, a character reacts to events and responds to those reactions through action. But do those actions actually affect the plot? Does the plot happen to the character or does the character act and consequences follow?

These seem like plot building questions, and they are, but it’s critical to understanding your characters as well. Characters that always react to the plot and have little consequences for actual actions taken tend to be placed in the “reactive” category. While I can’t speak to every style and story structure, most traditional publishers and western audiences prefer active characters over reactive characters. They want the character to impact the plot, their actions have natural consequences that push the plot forward.

Reactive characters can absolutely be utilized to tell interesting and compelling stories, though, so don’t throw out the whole story if you find your character is more reactive than active.

Conclusion

So you’ve created the plot and the premise and you need to populate your world with characters! Remember these key points in building a character arc: purpose, change, and action. Hopefully this guide can help you get on the road towards creating a character arc that not only compels your reader, but enhances your themes and serves your story.

-- Indy

#writing advice #writing tips #writing help #writing characters #character arcs #writing character arcs #amwriting #writers on tumblr #writing guide #writing resources

[demonslayedher]

Nerdy cultural details about the Hashira

Some details can be hard to pick up without context or in translation. Here's a handful for fun:

Breath names:

The "Mushi" (蟲) of "Mushibashira" (蟲柱) does not necessarily mean "insect." It's also not the more commonly used "mushi" kanji (虫). Kanji is often formed with many components compounding together to make new meanings, and 蟲 is a crowd of three 虫. While it might be tempting to simply say that this is a whole bunch of 虫, I've also heard this described as 蟲 being the more abstract idea of the concrete 虫, or that 蟲 went through a resurgence in popularity shortly before the Taisho Period. 虫 is preferred nowadays for its simplicity.

In either case, it's not necessarily "insects." Rather than being limited to six-legged creatures, "mushi" is a catch-all term for many kinds of creepy-crawlies that simply do not fit in other categories of animals, so spiders and centipedes and worms are all part of it. Actually, the term was originally used for snakes!

Next, what are picturing when you hear "Stone Hashira"? Something in your hands that you can throw? A big stone to lay on for warmth after training in a waterfall?

You could think even bigger than that, because the "stone" kanji used is "iwa" 岩. This is usually something at least as big as the boulders Himejima pushes around to train with, but it could just as well be a whole cliff.

So then how about that issue raised about how you can never refer to "Flame Breath" as "Fire Breath"? This might be a review since it gets brought up a lot, but it's worth restating because it makes a lot of sense in context.

First, we have two kanji to work with: 炎 for flames, and 火 for fire. To make a long linguistic history short, Japan adopted written pictographic characters from China, smashed and smooshed them around to fit the spoken Japanese language, and eventually many kanji wound up with multiple pronunciations. Case in point, 炎 is "hono'o" in the context of Flame Breathing (Hono'o no Kokyuu), and "en" in the context of "Flame Hashira" (En-bashira).

火 likewise has multiple pronunciations, but a common one is "hi." Another simple kanji that can be read "hi" is 日, the sun.

Therefore, even if they are written differently, "Sun Breathing" and "Fire Breathing" would sound the same, as "Hi no Kokyuu." This also makes it easy for "Hinokami" to be construed as "Fire God" instead of "Sun God." But why stop there, really? If you want to get into older Japanese, sometimes phonetic "hi" was used in simple reference to the power of gods.

Symbolism:

This is still somewhat linguistic rather than symbolic, but you know how Sound Breath is derived from Thunder Breath?

It's worth pointing out that "Kaminari" (雷) in "Kaminari no Kokyuu" is in reference to the sound, as opposed to something like "Ikazuchi no Kokyuu" for "Lightning Breath" in reference to the sight. We can get really, really nerdy about Japanese words for thunder and lightning and how they relate to Kimetsu no Yaiba, so I already did that here.

What's more interesting to me in regard to Sound Breath is that it takes the "sound" concept of thunder and pushes it--this time with a bit of a firework motif, again in a way that would stress the sound instead of the dazzling light. Both Uzui and Zenitsu have exceptional hearing and are exceptional users of their Breath techniques, so this is either curious that a discerning sense of hearing might help, or ironic that they use such loud styles with their sensitive ears.

Moving on to snakes! There's really no shortage of serpent symbolism, so we'll just focus on a handful of examples. I have already written extensively about the positive associations snakes have with riches, especially white snakes. This is ironic, given Iguro's distasteful paste driven by riches.

Some of the other positive associations with snakes are that they are a water element animal on the geomancy system borrowed from China. Makes sense that this Breath would be derived from Water Breathing! There are many shrines dedicated to snakes and their gifts of rain and clean water, however, water can also be dangerous. A common interpretation of a major legend about an eight-headed giant serpent, the Yamata-no-Orochi, is that it symbolizes the destructive power of a flooded river. But hey, at least snakes are often equated to dragons for having the same water association, so that's pretty cool.

Setting aside the water association, the serpent itself can likewise be considered in negative lights. In the centuries leading up to the Taisho Period, it became commonplace in Buddhist teachings and entertainment to compare jealous women to snakes. This association with woman also adds another layer of cruel irony to Iguro's past.

On a happier note, let's move on to cherry blossoms!

Well, not always happy, seeing as they are known to scatter tragically soon (I am shaking my fist at you, Gotouge). Cherry blossoms are also heavy with all the directions you can go in with symbolism, and I don't have any particular take on why they are part of the overall motif of the Love Hashira (see here for a little commentary on why it is "Koi" 恋 and not "Ai" 愛).

However! I do want to point out something very clever Gotouge did!

You know how Mitsuri's hand guard looks like four hearts that all meet at their pointy ends? This is actually a traditional cherry blossom motif!! Not a very common one, which is why I find it so sly.

Personal Names:

Bear with me, this section will get slightly more speculative, as names are always up to interpretation. I should know, I've done a lot of that for this series.

Remember how kanji can be read in multiple ways? Here's something simple you'd see right away in Japanese but that gets lost in translation to most other languages. Both Sanemi and Genya have 弥 as the second character in their personal name (as "mi" or "ya"). This was not the case for all their siblings, but it's cute that the two of them share it anyway.

So what does it mean? In modern kanji dictionaries, it's pretty bland: "increasingly." However, this kanji has more interesting use and associations that that. It was originally 彌, which carries more of an image of a stretched bow, or how something might go wide and disperse. As a child's name, this might include some hope that they might grow big and tall and go to great places. It is also commonly used in expressing the names of Buddhist deities in Japanese, but it is used only for the "mi" sound instead of the meaning in these cases. (Still, 弥 is one of the "Namu Amida Butsu" characters all over Himejima's haori, which also adds a little cuteness to his associations with Genya.)

So how about someone else with a name that closely matches his brother's? We get a pretty good explanation of Yuichiro (有一郎) and Muichiro (無一郎), with 有 and 無 being opposites (to exist/to not exist). While 有 might be more straightforward in wishing for Yuichiro to have all his needs met, the "mu" in "muichiro" is for "limitless/infinity/etc, etc."

But also!!

It bares distinct resemblance to a common Zen phrase, "Honraimuichimotsu" (本来無一物), with "muichimotsu" meaning "nothing exists" (and therefore, you have nothing to worry about, just be happy).

Speaking of resemblances, "Tomioka Giyuu" has two kanji in common with the name of the mangaka of Hunter x Hunter and I sometimes wonder if he was named in homage. But that is neither here nor there, and I'll just finish today by focusing on "Giyuu" (義勇).

This is pretty basic and straightforward: "loyalty/justice" and "bravery/courage." Pretty lofty. Put them back together and it's basically a set term for "heroism."

However, put it together with other terms for squads or armies, and this is the now the word for "volunteer soldier" or "volunteer army." Historically, it would continue to be used a few decades after Kimetsu no Yaiba takes place, but the decades prior, there were "Giyuutai" organized volunteer troops as well. Perhaps Giyuu had ancestors who fought as volunteer soldiers? Who knows.

#I felt like doing an info-dump #kny nerdery

[nobrashfestivity]

Hello, really appreciate all the art you share, I've learned of so many wonderful artists that way. I particularly enjoy the work of surrealists and symbolists. Do you have any recommendations/favorites that I or most people might not be as familiar with? Or just some favorites in general?

Thanks for the question, I'll think more on it but off the top of my head, it's such a big category I'll just mention a couple things.

I'm not such a fan of straight surrealism in painting, ala Magritte, Dali etc. For me it works better in film or photography or writing. There's something about many surrealist images that are oftentimes just too plainly ironic and somehow the fact that single image paintings cause you to pause on these ideas wears them out for me.

It's nothing against anyone, I love Dali as a designer and as a person who was invested in art in a way that few people are these days, but I find his actual paintings boring.

However, these labels are difficult for me, who is symbolist and who a surrealist? Munch is called a symbolist and he's a huge favorite but you could call him and expressionist too .One of the sweet spots for me is where kind of "Outsider art" meets symbolism, in other words, things that are kind of nuts.

Examples I will link here are from this blog but there is obviously a better world out there to look about.

Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis  a polish artist and composer that kind of has that intersection of the mystical and symbolist thing with that outsider art lack of convention.

Victor Brauner is a bit like Paul Klee, very playful and colorful but more committed to surrealistic themes

František Drtikol is known more as a photographer but bridges many gaps.

Ernst Steiner don't know much about this Swiss artist, but he was clearly possessed with some of the same thematic ideas as Leonora Carrington (I assume you know her already, but yes) as well as his own geometric interests.

You might check out Georgiana Houghton a pioneering abstract artist who was unsurprisingly unsuccessful and based much of her work on conversations with the spirit world.

I've got lots of Redon and Munch here of course

You may like the very versatile, crazy, political art of James Ensor, who was way ahead of his time.

If you like Carrington you might like Remedios Vara and Felix Labisse or maybe Franz Sedlacek

I'm running out of time to create links here but here and elsewhere you might check out Alfred Kubin, Gustave Moreau, William Degouve de Nuncques, and Wifredo Lam

I can give you more if you like. For the intersectionality I would check out my tags for Surrealism but also outsider art (people like AUSTIN OSMAN SPARE and Erich Zablatnik are in there) and Art brut

reminder to search tags randomly as tumblr will just decide to show part of what's there which is quite annoying.

Thanks for the interesting question

#questions #symbolist painting

[scaredcrab]

The Moon and the Sea

Character: ☾ Macaque x Reader ☽

✐ Summary: The Moon believed that only the Sun could be his companion. Until he meets the Sea.

✐ Category: Romance.

✐ Word Count: 379 (yeah, this one is pretty short, just a bunch of nice paragraphs I wrote)

It's short, but it's been a while, so take one of my only finished stuff.

-✐-☾-✐-☾-✐-☾-✐-☾-✐-☾-✐-☾-✐-☾-

Everyone constantly says that the Moon belongs to the Sun, and for a long time, the colder one believed this. For ages, the Moon considered that only the Sun was worthy of being the brightness in his life and of being his companion; he wanted to be unique for someone unique.

However, the Sun freed himself from the illusion that only the Moon could be its company, and soon he met other planets and stars that became as unique and important for him as the Moon one day was in his heart. The star made many friends—friends he would never forget.

The Moon felt betrayed and abandoned, and this filled him with fury, melancholy, and above all, loneliness. The sweet, warm promises his former partner made turned bitter and icy, like the heart of the silver satellite.

Centuries and centuries passed until the protective globe found itself in front of the Sea.

"...W-Wait!"

"Huh?" - He stopped his walk to look behind.

A human with trembling legs looks up at the man, they try to pose in a charming way, but their figure is clearly shaking. Wet hair, wet clothing, but beautiful features and voice. 

"I... I really wanted to talk to you." - A big smile with shiny, sharp teeth is shown.

The Sea knew how to move with the flow, different of the Moon, which spent so much time frozen with the same feelings, trapped in time. The Sea was full of life despite being frozen, and even though its waters were cold, it tickled him, and everyone touched by it smiled, it was inevitable, stronger than the power of fate.

The Moon had fun with the splashing of salt water and found himself beautiful as never before when he saw his own reflection emitted by the surface of the new acquaintance.

The Moon knew that his own movements stirred the heart of the ocean; whenever he approached the waters, they stirred, and whenever he moved away, the waters calmed down. What the Moon did not know was that he was so attracted to the Sea that he could drown in it.

And with that, the glittering silver symbol of the night was lost in the deep vision of the shimmers the salty surface managed to reflect.

Macaque had accidentally drowned in the depths of your scintillant gaze.

#lmk #lmk x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #lmk macaque x reader #macaque x reader #lmk fanfiction #lmk macaque

[fitzrove]

TOP 5 VIENNA REVIVAL CATEGORY 7 TODOLF EVENTS (as gifs)

5. fritz schmid. just every second of fritz schmid,,, no words he understood the assignment

4. hey lil mama let me whisper in your ear

3. "grab" = "grave" in German - clever symbolism,, thank u jesper (recordings are 5 months apart. he kept doing it)

2. SPIN HIM!!!! ok this is 3 events but since it was never seen again in this prod afterwards i count it as one,,, what blessed three days...

this... lukas is so real for this máté too for that neck grab,,, take all my money. biblically accurate todolf etc

#elisabeth das musical #kronprinz rudolf #der tod #they're insane #musicals #theatre #not included: the way tod pulls rudolf back closer right before 'notwehr' (only in select housecam footage) #and the replacement mayerling choreography where tod br**sts b**bily down the stage ajshhdhfhjgjh #apparently that happened semi often too! #gifs #if you thought this was a 'things other than todolf' blog... you were sadly mistaken.... #actors