#that i do is wrong like im always fucking wrong

[highvern]

Talk

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings:  oral sex/face sitting/69, prone bone, dom/sub dynamics (dom!reader/sub!hoshi),  protected sex, impact play (spanking), mentions of butt stuff but nothing explicit

Length: ~ 4.3k

Note: this ended up way longer than i originally planned... by like 2k but im weak for sub hoshi. realized i accidentally made them schmidt and cece from new girl.... oh well. as always thank u @gyuswhore for suffering my horrible punctuation and EVERYONE HAS TO READ HER UP COMING HOSHI FIC FOR PIRATE HOSHI I DEMAND IT

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], YUCK [f]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Soonyoung talks. A lot. 

Sometimes it makes no sense. Like the occasions he calls you after a night out and slurs his words through the speaker as you hum agreement to who knows what until he passes out while still on the line, letting you hear every snore and smack of his lips until you hang up; or when he’s inside you and it's all a bit too much that he has to tell you how good it feels in excruciating detail; or when you both wake up in the morning, you late for work and him trying to talk you into keeping the sheets warm for just a few more minutes, and Soonyoung thinks he’s convinced you but fifteen more minutes really won’t hurt because his apartment is closer to your office anyway.

He talks so much that not hearing his voice the second he opens the door is like a slap in the face.

There's no invitation inside, or lukewarm greeting. The door hangs ajar, Soonyoung already back down the hall in the direction of his room with the expectation you’ll follow. 

You do, but with the same hesitancy you’d approach a wild animal: curious and on edge.

Despite the hour, his roommates aren’t anywhere to be seen. No bodies sprawled across the couch or light under their doors. Their presence never stopped you before but it’s unsettling that there's no buffer of anything to break the storm cloud choking the atmosphere. Just stark exposure to whatever is clearly bothering Soonyoung that he won’t tell you about because, technically, you two don’t do that. Or, he does and you vehemently refuse all of it with less and less authenticity each time.

Soonyoung doesn’t prattle on about his day or ask about yours as you trail behind him. He throws off his shirt without a word, collapses on the edge of the mattress, and roughly pulls you into his lap. It’s cold and unfeeling and exactly the kind of sex you’d enthusiastically participate in a year ago. But nothing like the Soonyoung you’ve grown familiar with over the past few months.

He doesn’t comment on the low cut of your top, falling into the motions without the usual banter. 

You wiggle free from his grasp, trying to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He doesn’t look at you before taking back up where he left off.

“Stop.” You push him back, trying to get a look at his face but he stays in the crook of your neck. “Stop.”

The silence that follows is loud. He collapses back into the bed, arms curling up to hide away from whatever is chasing him.

“I said I’m fine,” he mumbles.

“Could've fooled me,” you huff.

“Doesn’t matter. Not what you come here for anyway, right?”

A half truth that stings more than you’d like. It sinks in your gut in the quiet dark of his room.

“You know what? Forget I asked, I’m leaving.”

“Wait,” he says, arms attempting to snake around your waist but you’re already up.

“No. You don’t need to be an asshole when I’m just trying to be nice.”

“Because you’re sunshine and rainbows all the time?”

“Did I fucking say I was? If you’ve got a problem with it you’ve had long enough to lose my number.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” he sighs heavily. “Bad day.”

You soften at the break in his voice. Stepping back over, you stand between his legs. He looks small, hunched over with his head in his hands and the weight of the world on his shoulders. The light you’ve come to associate with having him within reach is gone and all that's left is a man you don’t really recognize. He buries his face in the warmth of your stomach, and goes limp as you run a hand across his shoulders.

“Do—” you clear your throat. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Because if Soonyoung is talking there's less chances for you to open your mouth and screw it all up. You don’t know how to be doughy and tender with the same level of ease he possesses. You’ll probably fail trying but it's the least you can do.

It’s uncharted territory; for you, for this, whatever this is because it doesn’t really resemble anything you’ve done before even though the foundation is the same. Because you care about Soonyoung, and he obviously cares about you. But you’re not sure how to let him and even less sure how to return it.

“No.” 

“Okay,” you say, at a loss for what comes next.

Inactivity breeds restlessness. Without any idea how to do this on your own, you default to the steps he took when you were half cooked on your bathroom floor.

Soonyoung eyes you with questions but doesn’t speak as you drag him into the en suite. Bites his tongue as you work off your clothes under the sterile overhead light and then move to work on his; raising his arms when you poke him and managing his pants on his own. He even smiles, or his mouth twitches in a vague allusion to a grin, when you flick water at him after guaranteeing the temperature won’t give you both pneumonia.

Finally tucked behind the shower curtain, he stands dumbly. Not another move to help, content to watch you wash his hair, nails raking over his scalp until he shivers. 

You ignore the prod at your thigh. Focused on letting the warmth of the water do the heavy lifting, you soak a washcloth in soap and lather his skin until it tinges pink. A shampoo mohawk earns a kiss dusted along your shoulders and you might even blush a bit if you weren’t so focused on perfecting the spikes so he looks like one of those 90s alternative poster boys.

Out of the shower, his vow of silence continues. Everything he isn’t saying is clear in his eyes, especially when you slather his face in one of those mud masks, painting him bright green. He’s less intimidating with chunks of clay in his eyebrows.

He isn’t accommodating but he also doesn’t outright refuse which seems to be the best you’re going to get. 

“You look like Shrek,” you snort, satisfied and turning towards the mirror to cover your own face in a matching shade.  

“Well then you're Fiona.” His head comes over your shoulder, chin digging into bare skin to watch you in the mirror. His chest is sticky against your back from steam but you don’t mind if it means he’ll talk to you.

“Actually,” you think, wiggling to face him. “I think you’re more like Donkey.” 

“The dragon fits you better anyway.”

“Are you calling me scary?” you gasp.

“Yes.”

“Good. Remember that next time you want me to suck on your balls.”

He winces. “I can feel them retreating into my body already.”

“Don’t make me laugh, it’ll mess up the mask.”

Without a care for the still drying mess of his face, he takes refuge back in his favorite place. Tucked under your chin, he sighs.

“I’m sorry I was a dick earlier. Work sucked today. I didn’t get a contract I wanted, they picked some other kid at the studio for it. I’ve taught him for years and they picked him over me.”

“I’m sorry.” You placate him with a gentle hand up his back, nails tracing loose patterns as the fan hums over head.

“Not your fault.”

“No, but it still sucks.”

“Yeah.” He nuzzles closer, arms heavy around your waist like you’d even think to move away. “It’ll be fine though. He’s a good kid and I couldn’t be mad at him. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Fifteen minutes later, you both wash away the flakes of clay, cracked around the corners of your eyes and mouths, and retreat back under the covers in one set of pajamas split between: you in one of his shirts with nothing underneath, and him in sweatpants with nothing on top. 

Soonyoung insists that Pirates of the Caribbean is his comfort movie, something about Kiera Knightly with a gun being his sexual awakening (which explains a lot), and you let him put it on the tiny screen of his laptop with plans to fall asleep in the first five minutes.

His lips are at your temple, a dull pressure that makes your blood hum. “I always wanted to be a pirate growing up.”

“Really?” you ask, edging towards unconsciousness from the lazy drag of his fingers on your hip.

“Yeah,” he agrees, eyes glued to the screen. “Have my own ship, no rules, a bunch of sexy wenches.”

“Half naked women with scurvy were a part of your career plan?”

“Okay, maybe I added those just now but my point stands.”

The picture of Soonyoung with a scar on his chest and one of those ruffled linen shirts straight off the cover of a dime novel some grandma would read on the train with no shame isn’t that bad. Actually, it’s pretty sexy. But you won’t feed his delusions.

“What point?”

He rolls on top of you, face open with grave seriousness. “We should role play. Me as the hot pirate captain, you as the beautiful princess. Forbidden love, enemies type stuff. You run away from being royal and end up joining my crew. Oh no, Captain Hoshi, I had no idea this was your room! What an impressive sword!” he squeals in a breathy mock of you.

“And then,” you gasp. “you come in five minutes and I convince everyone to throw you overboard?”

“Hurtful. But I’m willing to forgive you if you call me captain. Just once.”

He’s close enough to kiss, lips pouted as he waits for you to give into his demand. A gentle peck bordering on domestic makes him sigh, the taste of toothpaste lingering on his breath. Just as you think you’ve distracted him away from such an ridiculous idea, he leans back with a gleam in his eye that says he’ll wait all night if you make him.

“How about we roleplay falling going to bed?” you sigh, eyes closed against his expectant gaze.

“Nope, too late. I’m thinking about you wearing nothing but a pirate hat and now I’m hard.”

He curls right into the meat of your thigh, hot and ready to go if you give the word. Sleep is tempting but the thought of a quick tumble wakes you up enough to entertain him. 

“Alright, but you’re doing all the work,” you sigh. “Take off my clothes, captain.”

Pausing to let the idea settle, he shakes his head. “That’s actually not as hot as I thought it would be.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you fuff. “I’m watching the movie.”

You try to shove him away with zero intent to actually let him go anywhere and end up pinned, fingers in a tight grip around your wrists that you pretend to fight against. Soonyoung knows you like to be reminded of his strength on occasion; whether thats fucking your mouth until your throat burns or bending you over. This potentially being one since he’s had a hard day and you’re hungover from making him feel better about it. 

He tongues across your pulse until you go pliant against the pillows, legs spread to cradle his hips. A shuffle of clothes and a lift of your hips and he’d be inside you. There's more steps; a condom, a little fingering because his dick was made to stretch your limits. Your legs shake already, desperate for quick fuck so you can passout while Soonyoung cleans you up. 

But his new mood means he’s making up for lost time. Presently, that's bunching your shirt up to your chin and tracing each inch of newly uncovered skin with his tongue.

“Hellooooo ladies,” he sighs, nose buried between your breasts.

“God, you’re lame.”

“Be nice to me, I had a hard day,” he pouts, releasing your hands in favor of plucking at your chest until you sigh in delight.

“I’m literally letting you—hmmm— see my boobs after you said that corny shit. How much nicer can I be?”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to coax a low groan out of your chest with passes of his mouth until you're kicking the sheets. The good kind of sting that ruts your hips against his thigh and makes you dizzy. There will be a permanent wet patch if he doesn’t give you relief soon.

“I have a few ideas.”

“Like what?” You twitch at the thoughts running rampant. Short of donning that pirate hat mentioned earlier, anything he suggests is guaranteed to make you feel better too. 

“Can show you better than I can tell you,” he bites into your nipple, sucking it to a stiff peak for his fingers to pinch before shifting focus to the other. 

“If you try and put your dick in my ass I’ll rip it off.” The words are breathy off your lips. No real threat because he might be able to talk you into the idea if you let him. If he keeps pulling your strings the way he’s learned how. 

But Soonyoung has different ideas, pulling off your nipple with a rough suck, curling your shoulders in. “That was one time and it was an accident!”

“Let me slip a finger in next time I blow you and tell me how you like it.”

“You have and I do. Keep talking about it and I’m gonna need another shower.”

“God, you’re a freak.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He takes the initiative to roll you on top, palms massaging your ass while enjoying the view of you naked in his lap. 

A sudden moment of vulnerability roots in your chest, warmed by the set of brown eyes peering up at you. “You know I don’t just come here for this, right?” 

Soonyoung’s eyebrows twist for a moment and then soften. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, not ready for anything deeper. The air is already thicker with the weight of that confession, suffocating. In an effort not to drown in it, you drop your chest flat to his, latching onto the jut of his collarbone. “Is this your big idea? Me on top? Not very original.”

A hand at your ass drags you along his covered cock, already begging for attention. It’s not original but you’ll dry hump him into the mattress until your bones are jelly if he wants. 

“Sit on my face.”

It’s your turn to pull back. “What?”

“Sit. On. My. Face.” His hand is already firm against your thighs, forcing you halfway up his chest before you can argue.

“I heard you the first time, just confused how that's supposed to make you feel better.”

“You underestimate the power of your pussy. Now get up here.” 

The shuffle up is less than sexy. Soonyoung is eager from your permission, rushing you up to his mouth until you nearly knee him in the head.

“Wait,” you say. 

Soonyoung locks his arms as you move off him, reflexive because he lets go a second later. Turning, you eye the tent in his pants as you kneel back down. Perfect position to touch him while he touches you.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts, fingers tracing through your wetness despite the horrible angle.

You don’t get a chance to orient yourself. He’s already quick to work with teasing passes of his tongue that turn bolder every second. 

“Jesus Christ, give me a second to get your dick out.”

But he doesn’t; too consumed with tasting all you have to offer, wringing you out to dry the second he gets a chance. The flat of his tongue laps up your arousal like it’s more vital than oxygen. There's a wet mess smeared between your thighs from the vigor. 

It takes all your focus to force down his pants, mouth watering at the shiny head of his cock straining from some heavy petting. You keep steady with one hand, jerking him off into your mouth with the other. Soonyoung malfunctions between your thighs as you swallow his cock, a moan right to your clit makes you fumble that last inch into your mouth.

He chokes you with a buck up but you take it in stride. Sucking harder, lashing against the slit until he whimpers. Normally, you’d exaggerate the wet noises at the back of your throat but with the crude dig of his tongue in your entrance there's no need. 

“God,” you warble into his crotch. You arch back into his face, Soonyoung’s fingers digging into the meat of your ass, spreading you out like a full course meal.

In theory it’s hot. Your cunt on his face and his cock in your throat, rutting against each other until you're numb and twitching and covered in each other's mess. In practicality, there is nothing Soonyoung is more relentlessly dedicated to than eating you out until your vision turns white and you have to force him away or risk passing out. It only takes a few minutes before you’re forced to tap out, panting into his thigh and weakly fisting his length with no regard for the mess sticking between your knuckles, as he fucks you along his tongue.

“Gonna come, oh–fuck,” you choke. You want him to come too, in your mouth, on your face if that's what he wants. But by some glitch in the universe, Soonyoung is able to hold back and you’re the one racing to the finish first. “Oh my god, Soonyoung, fuck.”

You jerk him off, grip tight despite the slick mess of spit and pre-cum. It doesn’t help that ever squeeze at the swollen head sends a moan straight into your clit, forcing you hips to rut desperately. 

“Don’t stop. Just, shit – need a little more—”

You pull one his hands away to take over your short strokes, spitting into his palm and squeezing until he figures out what you want; to watch him touch himself while eating you out. The contrast of his fingers tangled between your own, both glistening because Soonyoung is just as close as you are, gets you there.

“Close.” Thighs locked, you suffocate him but Soonyoung doesn’t complain. A palm at the base of your spine forces you down when you shy away from the edge. “Oh, oh, oh!”

A sting of your nails into his thigh is all the warning either of you get. Back arched tight, eyes clenched, you shudder through it. Soonyoung doesn’t stop, sucking away the fresh wave of arousal, tongue verging on punishing against your clit as you sink.

“Okay, that's enough—god,” your voice breaks. “Enough.”

You fall to the side, face first into the covers without effort to soften the blow. The lower half of your body is numb but you can feel his hand skating up the back of your calf.

“Good?” he asks, all too aware of the issue; the smirk is clear in his tone, happy to see you strung out from a few minutes on his mouth.

“Shut up,” you warn but the bite isn’t in it. The urge to kick him in the head is there but none of the energy. 

“Are you tapping out on me or…?” 

The sound of the drawer pauses in case you say no but the idea of not feeling him inside you sounds like the worst thing you’ve ever heard.

“You’re not that good,” you mumble into the blanket. “Fuck me like this, you promised you’d do all the work. Remember?”

“Like this?” he hums, rubbing the head of his cock back through the mess with admiration. 

He obeys with a wet kiss to your shoulder, parting your legs and sliding between without a word. You soak in the stretch, ass arched into his hips to take it all. The cold bites down your back when Soonyoung leans back to watch.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he whines. “Shit.” 

He drives into you with a bruising pace, betrayed by his own need to come after having you on his mouth without a tease of relief. You arch into it, the head of his cock dragging deep inside pushing disgusting noises from your lips you pray his roommates aren’t around to hear.

“Spank me.”

He loses it for a second. A rough thrust pushing you down the bed and he scrambles to follow. “Seriously?” 

“Do it,” you bark. 

The first strike is weak. More of a firm caress than the sting you crave; hesitant to push for too much too fast lest you take away any privilege he has.

“Harder.”

The next impact comes hard enough to burn an outline of his hand. And another one that makes your tongue feel too big for your own mouth.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” you whine. “More.”

Arms pinned beneath your torso, all you can do is lay there and take it. Nerves gone, he spanks you like it’s second nature. Like he’s thought about it before.

“Good?” he asks. Sounds more like a beg for validation. That he’s the one driving you crazy, molding your insides to his cock until it’s all you can think about.

“So good, f–fuck me so good.”

“Yeah?” he breathes against your neck, a hand wedging beneath your hips to drag against your clit in messy strokes. “You’re so hot, fuck.”

There will be a bruise to hide come morning but you can’t care. The slap of his hips against your ass, the flame of his hand still lingering on your ass, his cock drilling your insides; there's no room for anything but Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung.

You arch your back to feel him deeper only to have him pull out completely on the next stroke.

“No!” you protest, racing to keep him inside. 

It’s no use, Soonyoung flips you on your back before you can convince him otherwise. He hooks your knees over his elbows, spreading you wide and driving home in one smooth push with his teeth at your neck.

“Gonna come,” he begs, voice weak. You know his game, what makes him tick and come so hard he goes blind.

“Not yet,” you warn. A rough twist in his hair only works against his thinning resolve and that's exactly why you pull harder until his hips kick into a jilted rhythm.

“I can’t – please – I can’t—”

“Not yet,” you gasp. He’s deep, right in the back of your throat making you foggy. “Be a g–good boy and wait until I tell you.”

Hips frantic, voice cracking, he tries to hold off; knows it's better when you tell him exactly what to do. Makes him choke into your chest.“Fuck, fuck!” 

“Tell me how bad you want it. How much you love this pussy.”

“Love it, love your pussy.” He folds in half on top of you, desperate. Every drive of his cock into your center forcing your own desperate noises out. “Please let me come for you.”

“Look at me,” you demand. The command in your voice is paper thin but you're both too lost. His eyes are glassy, frantic to do whatever you ask if it means he can come. “Beg for it.”

“P–please,” he whimpers through gritted teeth. “Please let me come. Need it, wanna come. Please. Please!”

He’s too good to edge. Perfectly pliant to any demand and it makes you want to give him whatever he wants. “Give it to me. Fuck me through it. Let me feel you come for me.”

He latches onto your breast, sucking your nipple as his hips turn sloppy. The squeak of mattress springs are a sound track to his end. You won’t come again but you don’t need to. Satiated with the choked whimpers of your name as he swells against your walls, forcing himself as deep as possible like he’s fucking you raw and full of his cum.

Maybe someday you’ll let him.

Your hips are sore from being forced in half so long but you won’t move away until Soonyoung comes back down. Less from your own will power, more because you’re running on fumes and might fall asleep with him still inside you. He gives a few more pathetic twitches and then goes slack.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Welcome to the club,” 

With the grand finale complete, your aching muscles give out completely. You can’t even laugh when one of his hands moves to check your pulse.

“Oh my god,” Soonyoung gasps. “I killed you with my dick.”

“You didn’t kill me.” You slap away his hand weakly. Without distraction, the stickiness of your skin from sweat in the worst places settles in but it’s a problem for later.

“A man can dream,” he says wistfully.

“Of homicide by cock?”

“Of dick game strong enough to murder someone.”

He rubs his nose along yours, breathes mingling in a lazy kiss as exhaustion creeps over your both. 

“Your face smells like pussy.” You slouch into the mattress, deadweight while taking all of his like the perfect blanket.

He kisses you again, tongue teasing at your lips until you give the very real threat of teeth against it and he backs away. “Your mouth tastes like cock so I guess we’re even. C'mon we need to shower again.”

“Nooooooo,” you grumble, clinging to him in an effort to delay the chill waiting to invade between you.

“At least let me get a rag.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, locked at the ankle for dramatic effect. “If you pull out I’ll cry.”

“Words every man wants to hear,” he hums into your cheek with a kiss. “But my dick is sore and we both need to sleep.”

“Fine.”

When he pulls away you feel empty; devastatingly so. But you don’t ask him to comeback. Just pout at the loss and revel in placating pampering you receive in return.

He goes through the steps with familiarity. Wiping away the mess between your legs, tossing your shirt back up from the floor but you forgo it, choosing to sleep naked much to Soonyoung’s delight.

You use his chest as a pillow, curled into his side and tucked under his chin. The steady beat of his heart lulls you off. The last thing you register, on the hazy perimeter at the edge of sleep, is his fingers at your cheek and the ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes

@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

@seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially @gyuwoosbabie @dinossaurz

@wonustars

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

#svthub #ksmutsociety #kvanity #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #kwon soonyoung smut #hoshi smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #svt #svt smut #seventeen #seventeen hoshi #hoshi flufff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #soonyoung fluff #kwon soonyoung fluff #hoshi angst #soonyoung angst #kwon soongyoung angst #svt angst #seventeen angst #🫡 highvern

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hello love 😘

I got a new request for you. A smutty one at that, if you're up for it!

Tangerine and the reader are having a nice night out, even though the reader is tired for work and mental load, she lets herself be pampered by our lovely Tan-Boy.

Back at home the pampering continues into nice and steamy sexytime 😏 but at one point reader being exhausted, tired and overstimulated she says their safeword. Tan spaced out doesn't hear her at first and so he askes again while pounding her. Tears streaming down her cheeks reader repeats herself again and Tan stops, immediately! Pulling out, talking to her calming her down, asking her what's wrong. Reader explains that Tangerine didn't do anything wrong its just her being too exhausted and overstimulated. So Tan comforts her, makes her a bath etc....

If you're up for writing this im ever as always thankful to you💕

If not that's okey as well🫶🏻

Love ya bye😘

hii honey!! idk why but I just love safeword fics😵 and I love love this! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

gif creds to @/peachyspaceslvt for the never ending supply of crazy hot tan gifs. ur our saviour🫡

RED.

tangerine x fem!reader — smut & angst? with comfort

word count. 537

warnings. 18+ only. pinv, doggy style, reader says safeword, comfort. minors dni

This week wasn't so forgiving and the days exhusted you. 

As a reward for your efforts, Tangerine took you to dinner at a fancy restaurant on the waterside - the evening filled with good food and wine, the company of him making it all so much better. It didn't end there - the date carrying on into the night when you both finally make it home.

You're on your knees - chest pushed into the mattress and arms stretched long in front of you, Tangerine behind, his cock rutting into you. One of his hands on the back of your neck, the other gripping a handful of ass. His pace is almost relentless, the splitting feel of his dick ramming into you incessantly. It was like he was trying to make you forget about your week, replace it all with something so much better.

And for the first thirty minutes of it all, that was true. But after a while, you started to reach that point where it felt like too much, the feel of his cock giving more pain than pleasure. Everything else from this week worming it's way in and taking its toll.

With your face buried in the mattress, you mutter your safeword, your voice barely audible - the slight force of his hand on the back of your head muffling your words. Your choked-out sobs go unnoticed, the sound much like those he pulls from you usually.

You say the word again, slightly louder this time. "Red," you murmur, your tears wetting the sheet. "Red."

Though he doesn't hear you, the sound of his cock fucking into the messy state of your cunt overlapping your non-blissed cries.

"Red, red, red, red," you ramble, voice wavering. "Red."

The second he hears the first 'red', he's dragging his cock from you, a warm hand resting on the middle of your back. "I didn't hear you. I'm so sorry," he pants, catching his breath. "Fuck— I'm sorry, love. You okay?" he continues, moving to sit beside you - his hand running up your spine, making you roll over to face him. "Was I hurtin' you?" he asks, thumbing away the wet under your eyes.

You don't reply. You only sit, scooching to lean into Tan's shoulder as you wipe away the residual tears.

He wraps an arm around the middle of your back, pulling you into his side at an angle. "Got carried away," he shakes his head, voice and face filled with guilt and shame. "Real sorry, darlin'."

You slip your hand into his and hold it to your chest, your other hand wrapping around his forearm, hugging it. "It's not your fault," you whisper, pressing a kiss into the back of his hand. "I'm just... I'm just too tired. You didn't do anything wrong," you try to comfort. 

You knew his brain was blowing this out of proportion, so you wanted to reassure him, even though you technically needed it more. You sit in comfortable silence, quietly consoling each other - his hand stroking up your back, your lips pressed into his other. The side of your head resting on his shoulder, his atop of yours.

“I’ll run us a bath when you’re ready.”

#j23r23 #tangerine #tangerine smut #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine angst

[these-posts-arent-real]

warrior cats dash sim anyone?

#no canon characters #sorray guys thats too much #im just gonna do some made up dudes

0 notes

🔲 yourfave-tunnel-guy-deactivat

Guys I hate tunnellers. Lmao.

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

By StarClan, I hate this mindset. Tunnellers are such an underappreciated part of WindClan society. Just because we don't do as much running or typical hunting doesn't make us less valuable than you. Op and cats like him are so stupid.

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

Crow-food-worth reading comprehension lmao. It was satire (the url clearly states "tunnel.") Also, her*

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

Ok I see where that was probably satire (OP should have made that more clear though) Where are you getting "her" from though lmao. OP's url is "yourfave-tunnel-guy"

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

I'm getting "her" because I'm OP. This is my new account. I'm trans. Hope this helps.

#i said so in the tags of the last addition #but as i said. crow-food-worth reading comprehension #prev probably didnt even read my tags lmao

2,209 notes

🌾 barncat-vibes Follow

I am goingto fucking kill Jadestar. Lmao.

🌾 barncat-vibes Follow

WRONG BLOG

🐱 berrrrry-o Follow

Clanblr user barncat-vibes is from rc confirmed??

🏞 trouttail-prefers-bass Follow

Haha I already knew that, I'm mutuals with them on their main, plus we're IRL friends. Forgot that wasn't common knowledge.

🐱 berrrrry-o Follow

tbh I always assumed they were wc since thats the clan closest 2 the barns...

🪵 i-eat-moss Follow

Uh sorry ar ewe just glossing over how @barncat-vibes and @trouttail-prefers-bass are IRLS???!!!!?

#mutuals i can understand since they have the same ideas on like #social justice stuff... they both post trans stuff sometimes #but #IRLS? #SOMEONE is fucking with me #i met trouttail once at a gathering #nice dude #suuuper weird to imagine him knowing barncat-vibes

27 notes

🌅 kit-names-inspo Follow

I've decided to make a full post on this, since I've noticed this issue a lot lately. So let me make this clear:

I am NOT comfortable with "transgender" cats using my name suggestions to pick out new names. The service I provide is to help queens who have or are having kits, not confused males who think they're mollies.

STOP using my blog for your delusions.

🌅 kit-names-inspo Follow

Go ahead and unfollow me. I didn't want you 200 transgenders on my blog anyway.

🛤 carnation-stem-02 Follow

Anyone else find it funny how after this post OP lost 200+ followers? Anyone?

Anyway for a better source of names for trans mollies, toms & enbies, @name-lists-by-theme has much better names, sorted much more cleanly, AND she's not a transphobe.

#trans #fuck transphobia #fuck transphobes #fuck terfs #<- kit-names-inspo is a self-proclaimed radfem&terf btw

17,092 notes

🔁 🐍xviper-the-fagx reblogged

🤍 snwtl Follow

I can't believe we're being told to "normalize" cats becoming kittypets now. Do you have any idea how many cats would just abandon their families if it became socially acceptable to run off and live with the twolegs???

🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow

Honestly (as someone who left the Clans because I had a mate in the twolegplace), I haven't seen this to be as true as you're saying. I've seen one cat who "abandoned" his family to become a kittypet, if you count his abusive ex-partner, but for the most part, the cats we leave behind are understanding and okay with the fact that we have to move on. I wasn't meant for warrior life, and I left it, and I'm happier for it.

🤍 snwtl Follow

The fact that you would even imply it's okay to abandon your family for a life as a kittypet only serves to prove my point. You make me sick.

🪺 robbbinpaw Follow

Crow-food-worth reading comprehension

#yeah #snwtl (snowtail i think?) needs to use their eyes lmao #starclan this place gets on my last nerve #thinking of taking a break from clanblr because of shit like this

847 notes

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

Uhh... where am I. My dash looks weird...

#fakeposting #fake dash #dashboard simulator #dash simulator #warrior cats #warrior cats dashboard #cat dashboard simulator #fake dashboard #unreality

[almostnugget]

Pretty Gifts

Coriolanus Snow x fem!plus-size!reader

Your husband bought you a dress, but when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror…

word count: 3.2k

warnings: body-image stuff!, vague…whatever the fuck is wrong with coriolanus subtext, allusions to sex, OC!family/family members for reader and their strained relationship, reader has a LAST name but no first name

a/n: GOD. im suffering from a severe level of brainrot for this man and im finally shedding my fear of posting about him so have this VERY self indulgent piece i wrote…ages ago bc there was just. no plus size/curvy reader for this man. Also this was originally written in 3rd person but i changed it to 2nd so hopefully it sounds alright

Since falling in love with his wife—you, Coriolanus Snow has developed a certain proclivity for buying you things. He used to before, but now it's near constant. They can't leave the house without you coming home with a new trinket, a new piece of clothing, new shoes, anything.

But he'll do it when you’re not around just as well. If he sees anything and it makes him think of you or if he thinks it's something you’ll adore, it's nearly a given that he'll buy it.

Especially clothing.

He's had your exact measurements since you’d gotten married and his cousin, Tigris, designed your wedding dress and while those measurements might've fluctuated, he is well acquainted with your size. Which means, Coriolanus Snow is free to buy his wife any clothing he sees fit.

And he does.

You joke that he likes dressing you up like you’re his own little doll, but you never say it with any annoyance. Something is fun about your husband seeing clothing and simply needing to see his wife in it. It's flattering.

Most days, he'll come home after this or that meeting and drop a bag in front of you with a succinct, "I got you something." You smile almost immediately and always say, "You didn't have to," but you both know he will keep doing so.

And usually he'll insist you try it on for him as soon as possible, if not right away. Other times he'll wait, and declare it's the perfect thing to wear to whatever event they have to attend right around the corner, and you take that as a sign to wear it then.

Some days, however, it's you who comes home from an outing with your mother or father, or one of your siblings. You’ll come home and greet your husband as you usually do: all but tackling him in the hallway with a hug and kiss or the more subtle 'hi' and a kiss on the cheek.

He'll pepper a simple 'there's something for you on our bed' into the conversation and you know you’ve received another piece of clothing. Sometimes he won't say anything, but you know that look in his eye.

And eventually you’ll go into your shared bedroom to find whatever new piece of clothing Snow's picked out for you laying out on the bed—an obvious sign you should put it on right away so he can see you in it when he sees you next. And you usually oblige (though sometimes you’ll try it on just for him and then put back on whatever you were wearing, simply for comfort reasons and he doesn't mind because at least he knows now, and it's always better than his imagination).

Today was no different.

The heels of your shoes click against the marble flooring as you walk further into your home, pausing momentarily as you decide whether or not you want to take off your shoes or not. Before you can decide, you call out, "Coryo?"

It doesn't take a moment for his voice to call out, "In here!"

You hurry into the parlor where you spot your husband sat on the small loveseat, book in hand. His head lifts at the sight of you and you waste little time in hurrying over, falling onto the seat beside him and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Hi."

It never fails to make a smile overtake his stoic features and he reaches over, hand pressing into your cheek. "Hello, darling," he whispers and gives you a proper kiss that makes the stress of the day leave both of your bodies.

He pulls away first this time (you swap off), and his brow quirks. "How is your sister?" He asks, thumb still caressing your cheek.

"Normal," you tut, shifting around to lay on the couch, your head landing firmly in his lap. You meet eyes and you smile. "Annoying."

"Better," he remarks, and not even he can hide the satisfied twitch of his lips. You both get a strange thrill whenever the other says something on the edge of mean.

You do love her sister. To an extent.

Geneva Day (née Thorne) is the eldest of the Thorne siblings, seven years your elder, which meant you never spent much time together growing up. Close is not a word to describe you. Especially since, when Geneva learned of Coriolanus' desire to marry the youngest Thorne, she disapproved.

The only ones who knew the marriage started as a sham were the parties involved and your parents, so perhaps Geneva sensed the falsehoods, but in your mind, what right did your sister have to dictate your life? Simply because Geneva had already married? No, you wouldn't have it and you said as much.

But Geneva persisted right up until the wedding when you blatantly told her: "I'm marrying Coriolanus Snow whether you are there or not." And Geneva had no choice but to accept the marriage. Her qualms have lessened with time but you have not yet forgotten about your sister's harsh words towards the man you now love.

"But Cami's ok," you breathe out, sinking further into the couch and your husband's lap, shutting your eyes.

Cami, Camilia Day, is your young niece. While Geneva is on thin ice and probably always will be, you can’t bring yourself to extend the same feelings towards the young girl and in truth, the trip to the park with your sister was more or less just about your niece.

"I played on the swings with her."

"Did you?" Coriolanus asks and although your eyes are shut, you can hear the teasing grin in his voice. "I suppose that means you weren't pushing her?"

Your nose wrinkles. "Cami insisted on pushing herself, I couldn't interfere." Your tone is so matter-of-fact, Coriolanus can only laugh. His fingers twine in the strands of your hair.

"I'm glad you had a good time, dove," he tells you and you hum in response, turning your head to relax more in his lap as he continues stroking your hair.

"I'm just happy to be home."

And Coriolanus never doubts that you mean that.

It's taken him some time to get used to, but his wife genuinely means it when she says she would rather be with him than anywhere else. He used to hate the way his heart would pound when you’d say things like that. Now, he savors the feeling.

Silence passes between you. His fingers continue carding through your lock, his eyes falling back onto the book in his opposite hand, as you lay with your head on his lap.

But eventually, he can no longer help it.

"I got you something."

Your eyes crack open. Your husband's eyes are fixed on his book, but you know he can see you in his periphery because the corner of his mouth twitches upward as soon as you look his way.

"Did you?" You question, unable to hide your own smile for a moment more. Part of you should feel guilty about the way you get constantly doted on, but you can't bring yourself to do so. Still, you say, "You shouldn't have."

"Nonsense," Coriolanus tells you, as he usually does. "It's my job to give you the things you deserve." His eyes finally look down at you. "And you deserve the finest things I can get you."

You stare up at him, mulling between saying something and simply leaning up to mold your mouth to his. You settle for the former. "Then, thank you, my love," you hum, hand reaching up, tips of your fingers running over his cheek.

You know that always gets him, evident by the way his eyes flutter for a moment and you bite back a smile as your hand falls back down.

"I'm assuming it's clothing?" You question and you can tell from the look on his face that it is. But you know it usually is anyway. "I'll try it on later." You shift onto your side, nestling your head further into his lap. "Too comfy to move now."

He laughs, and his fingers continue through your hair. "That's fine. You can wear it for dinner tonight."

The two of you have elected to dine out tonight, if only because it’s been awhile and while love the food you can get at home, restaurants always scratch a certain itch.

And Coriolanus likes showing you off. Sometimes.

You hum in affirmation, content to agree. Once more, silence falls but you’re quick to interject, "Read to me?"

It doesn't matter what he's reading, you like hearing his voice. And as he usually does, Coriolanus obliges, dulcet tones beginning to permeate around the parlor as he reads out the passages of his book for his wife to hear.

You stay that way for a long while until Coriolanus leaves to get some work done in his office and you let him part with a kiss and then settle yourself back onto the couch to relax a while longer.

Eventually, however, with dinner approaching, you head to your shared bedroom. There's a piece of fabric laid out on the bed but you ignore it for now, electing to shower first—whatever clothing you’re meant to wear tonight will look far better if you’re clean, and after a day in the park, the shower feels necessary.

Twenty or so minutes later, you walk back into the room wet hair tied up on your head and a towel wrapped around you as you admire the dress on the edge of the bed. Your eyes light up at the sight of the finery your husband's picked out for you.

Fingers skimming the velvet material, you bite her lip, unable to deny this is exactly the kind of thing you would want to wear.

It's a deep red, almost a wine, made of velvet. The straps are thin, and the top is fitted with corset boning from the looks of it.

Immediately, you move to change, eventually pulling the dress on. It's snug in a comfortable way, not too tight and not too loose. And the skirt is fitted, contouring to your body. It's nice.

You glance at herself in the mirror, satisfied, and move to fix your hair and at least put on a necklace, if nothing more. Makeup too, if only because you don’t want to give the public anything to say about your ‘unkempt’ face.

Coriolanus can only pay off so many people, you’ve found.

By the time you’ve finished getting ready, you flop back on the bed with a content sigh. While you’re excited to show off your new dress, you’re also just hungry for dinner. Whether it’s out or at home, it’ll no doubt be something good, like every night—Coriolanus won’t settle for less, and your mouth waters at the thought.

You know you should head down now, but you pause once more to catch a look at yourself in the full-body mirror that sits in the corner of the room. Your hands skim the skirt, tugging it down your thighs a little when you still.

Your reflection stares back at you for a moment too long. The dress looks gorgeous. The stitching is fine, the design exquisite.

But on you?

Doubts begin to creep in.

The youngest Thorne is by no means skinny. You never have been, but you’ve accepted it. You like your thighs and the way they're on the thicker side. Even your hips are nice, wide perhaps, but nice. At least, so you tell yourself.

But the way the woman in the mirror stared back at you…

Tentatively, you turn to the side.

Most of your dresses, in fact all of them, flare out at the waist. They don't hug your stomach, leaving it hidden underneath the fabric. This dress does the opposite. It hugs your flesh, emphasizing the pouch of fat.

Biting your tongue, you face forward again, unable to miss the way the dress hugs the divots where your hips blend into your thighs. It's all on display. Not an inch is hidden.

Your arms wrap around your midsection and you glance to the door. Coriolanus wants to see you in this. But you can't let him see you, not in this.

It's irrational and you know it. He's seen you in far less clothing and doesn't care, why would he mind the dress? But a little voice in the back of your mind tells you that this dress will simply make him realize.

Grimacing, you sit back on the edge of the bed. Trying to work up the courage to change or go to dinner, you do neither.

Coriolanus is at the dining table, eyes fixed on the doorway in waiting for his wife. All he can hear is the ticking of that incessant grandfather clock in the corner. His hand taps the table and he mentally counts the seconds.

Have you fallen asleep? Is that it?

That's the logical answer, but his mind starts to race with unsavory thoughts about you avoiding him or worse. He bites them back until they leave a bitter taste in his mouth and he leaves the table.

Swiftly, he makes his way to your bedroom and raps his knuckles against the door. "My dear?" He calls through the wood.

Shame wells up inside of you and you swallow it back. "You can come in."

He doesn't waste a second, turning the knob and stepping into the bedroom. Whatever sight he expected to see, he isn't sure, but his wife sat on the edge of the bed completely done-up for dinner yet not moving, isn't what he expected.

"Dove?" He questions, and his unsavory worries start to fade, yet not completely as he shuts the door behind him. "It’s getting late.”

Biting your tongue, you nod, exhaling softly through your nose. "Right," you breathe. "I- I know.”

His gaze narrows for a moment. "Why didn't you come out?" His eyes fix on your attire and his heart thumps. "You're wearing the dress."

"I am."

Your tone. The way you avoid his eyes.

Coriolanus stuff his hands into his trouser pockets and sighs heavily. "You don't like it."

You gasp, eyes meeting his. "No, no, I love it. Coryo, really, it's beautiful," you assure. His head tilts and his eyes narrow again, scrutinizing you now to discern the problem then. It's your turn to sigh. "I don't think the dress likes me."

There's a furrow in his brow as he replies, "It doesn't fit?" That doesn't make sense. He had the dress tailor made to your latest measurements, how could it not fit? Did someone not listen?

"No, I-" Your words bite off and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. "I...I don't look good in it."

The way Coriolanus looks back at you, you'd think you’d spoke an entirely different language. "What?"

"I don't look good in it, Coryo," you repeat, a little surer.

And now he sees it. His wife is hunched over, one arm wrapped around her middle. The other hand is tugging her skirt down.

For a moment, he says nothing, contemplating how to approach this. Finally, his voice breaks the silence. "Let me see."

The heels on your feet scuff against the carpet and your nose wrinkles. "I don't-"

"No," he says and you know he's serious now, "stand up."

You sigh again and he lets you take a moment, knowing he's asked you to do something you deem terrifying. Eventually though, you stand. Your hands wring in front of you for another long moment, before you let them fall to your sides.

Coriolanus says nothing more, eyes roving slowly over you. He begins to circle you and you feel oddly like prey being sized up by a predator.

He comes to a stop in front of you once more. Trying to avoid his eye, you duck your head but his fingers tilt your head up and your eyes immediately find his cold, icy blue ones.

"You're right," he says flatly. "You don't look good in it." Your eyes widen, and he adds, "You look breathtaking."

He's calling you breathtaking but it's his words that take your breath away. Breathtaking?

"I would never use good to describe you," he continues, his voice a whisper in your ear as he moves behind you. His hands find your waist and he directs you to stand in front of that mirror you found so detestable. "Good doesn't say enough."

"Coryo—"

"I'm not finished," he cuts you off, and you press your lips together. His eyes flit to the mirror in front of them and he notes the antsy look on your face. "What do you see?"

"Me. You."

"What do you see when you look at yourself? Right now?"

You sigh heavily, biting your tongue between your teeth. Your eyes fall to your body, particularly that midsection. You don’t get the words out because Coriolanus slides one of his hands around to press flat against your stomach. He pulls you flush against him.

"Is this the problem?" He asks, voice low in your ear. His other hand falls to your hip. "Is this?"

"Coryo-"

"Don’t."

Your lips press into a thin line. He makes it hard to argue. "Yes. That's the problem." His fingers dance over your stomach in a way that makes you shirk back against his chest.

"I don't see a problem," he whispers against the skin of your neck. He makes it very hard to argue.

You try again. "It's— There's too much."

"Good," her husband growls into your ear, fingers pressing against the flesh of your hip. "More for me to have."

The sensation makes you jolt slightly, a familiar heat crawling up the back of your neck and spreading to your cheeks. You can't even bring yourself to reply, but you don’t have to, because he’s not finished.

"You can think all you want," he begins, and his tone is a touch softer, "but you look ravishing, my dear. Every inch of you was made for me." He leans closer, nose brushing the curve of your neck. "And I love every inch. Not even beautiful begins to describe what you are."

Your expression softens and your hand reaches up to your shoulder, hand pressing into his cheek. "Coryo," you whisper, turning your head to face him. "You mean that."

And it's not a question. Because you believe it. You don’t have to believe anything but him.

"I do," he replies, leaning closer until his nose brushes against yours. "Even when I first saw you, I knew you were the most divine woman I'd ever seen."

A laugh bubbles out of you. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Snow," you tease and it's enough to make him smile as well. Your lips press against his for just a moment before you pull back and ask, just to check, "You really like this dress on me?"

"I do," he repeats, a little more emphatic. "And I'll buy you a dozen more like it to prove it."

Another laugh, one that makes your nose scrunch and your eyes crinkle. "That won't be necessary." Another kiss. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

With a sigh, your hands fall to cover his where they still rest over your stomach and your hip. Squeezing his hands, you glance at your reflection and find that it doesn't look so bad anymore.

"I guess we should head to dinner now," you muse, but you don’t have time to move before Coriolanus is pulling you closer.

His mouth hovers over the space where your neck meets your shoulder and he whispers, the sound somewhere between a purr and a growl, "I want to eat something else first..."

Dinner will have to wait.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #reader insert

[elliesspacewalker]

would you write something more on the cuter fluffy side? like baby ellie and reader being friends, maybe reader being supportive of ellie trying to help her somewhat? just them being cuties.

Yess!!

Warnings: pure fluff, mentions of suicide, transgender!Ellie and mentions of gender dysphoria

-

I feel like Ellie would be super emotional about coming out as trans, I think she would think people would think of her differently. Obviously this isn't true, you, Dina, Jesse, cat, and everyone around her loves her so much!

I definitely think she'd cry a lot about it too, you'd definitely catch her crying for "no reason"

"Ellie hey? Why are you crying?" You'd comfort her and hold her as she sobs into your shoulder, moving a comforting hand to rub her shoulder as she sniffles "I don't know" she attempted to calm herself down "Ellie- breathe, please" you put your hand on your chest and breathed in and out, and she starts copying what you're doing "good job, it's okay" she calms down and brushes it off, obviously you weren't happy about it but she did calm down, she was OKAY and that was the point-

I also think she'd spend hours looking up gender dysphoria and thinking there was something wrong with her- that she wasn't normal and there was something severely wrong with her. After months of thinking she calls you over to talk to her, obviously you prepared for the worst because she never usually asked for you to come over and just talk to her because she wanted to kill herself- you could tell by her voice that shes been crying a lot.

It takes you not even 10 minutes to get to hers to see her tear stained cheeks.

"Els? What's wrong baby" you asked her, and she pulls you in for a hug "I think there's something wrong with me" her voice cracks as she holds you tight.

"talk to me Els, what happened?" Your voice is soft, so she knows you're not mad or angry, you're just concerned for her.

"i-i think I'm trans" she mumbles out, now standing in front of you. "Is this all you had to tell me?" You cup her face and wipe away her tears, you almost start crying after seeing her in so much pain "it's okay, I promise" you comfort her

"I thought you'd hate me or something" she sniffles.

"now, why the fuck would you think that?" You chuckle, "I love you for you Ellie and if you want to be a girl then that's who you are babe. no one can tell you different"

After that she came out to everybody except Joel, she's always gone to him for her problems but this felt personal and maybe he would reject her even though she knows he never would.

Until one night Joel misgendered her and she became really insecure about herself.. she barely touched her food and barely talked until Joel asked her what was up and she mumbled 'im trans' and Joel just looked at her, obviously shocked by this but he wasn't mad- Ellie saw this and thought he was mad and immediately broke down crying and Joel comforted her to tell her it was okay, and that he wasn't mad.

"I'm just mad you didn't tell me, I would've called you she if that's what you really wanted... You could've just told me Ellie" he says to her and she wipes away her tears "I'm sorry" she mumbled out "it's okay, I promise" he hugged her tightly..

-

After that, everybody started calling her a she instead of misgendering her and she definitely gained a lot more self confidence from this.

-

A/n: pretty short but I am thinking of making a series about this.... And about my own experiences

#ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #trans!ellie #transgender ellie #ellie williams fluff

[beneathashadytree]

i sorry for saying this but i have to be honest, i dont understand why the LnDs MC having a gender is a problem, i mean, i understand you making a gn OC for some kind of support or representation but not why the MC, who already have a female body (and with that i mean biologically, the old fashion way everyone would visualise in their minds at first when they hear "female body", after all even if we young ones think this patter is wrong it still a pattern old ppl and from different cultures, and almost everyone understand and learned at first at a very young age) and if im not wrong also refered as "she" im the game, cant be described with anything that isnt gender neutral, i also have no idea why someone would be offended or feel not included reading about a MC with a gender, we all are different and is impossible to include everyone, ppl can feel not included for things you cant even imagine would be a problem, and not being able to see yourself on a story once isnt a big problem, you can ignore or jump to the next one, or just see the character like a character or another person that isnt youself.

I hope you dont get mad at this (and was able to understand my point, i usually have problems communicating with others and since english isnt my native language it gets worst), its that i just dont see the point in all this, i understand having a preference or incentivating one but not feeling somenthing bad and being against the other...

I understand what you’re trying to say, nonnie, but I have to point out a few things first. First off, I shouldn’t have to explain my own boundaries because at the end of the day, they are boundaries and should not be discussed. When something makes me uncomfortable, I shouldn’t be negotiating why people should respect that and stick to it without questioning my motives.

However, I understand you have no ill intentions, so I will be answering you—not because I’m obligated to, but because I want to point out where your line of thinking comes to harm marginalized communities.

The very simple answer is this: Because I’m a fanfic writer.

I’m not creating the MC in a game where she physically has a body and an appearance. Otome games were initially made as fantasies for their players to picture themselves in romantic situations. But since most Otome games have female MCs with very stereotypical appearances, most people who do NOT look like that end up having to imagine an OC/someone else in their place. It’s a shitty feeling; to feel left out because game producers can’t be assed to create more diverse options.

Second of all, the “old fashioned way” was already fucked up from the start, because even female bodied people are much less likely to look like Otome game MCs—who are almost dauntingly pretty, have virtually no physical blemishes, have straight hair, big eyes, and are incredibly thin. Now think of all the people who do NOT fit that physical description and are almost always excluded. When I visualize a female body like you say, I don’t instantly picture a perfect-looking skinny fair-skinned girl who looks not a day past 18. Because female bodies aren’t just one thing or the other. It’s a beautiful spectrum.

Third of all, leaving “old fashioned thinking” as it is is already a harmful concept. Should we ignore white people’s racism because it’s how they were brought up in the old-fashioned way? Should we allow sexism & misogyny in our communities because it’s how they were brought up back in the day? Should we encourage fatphobia by not silencing people because being thin and encouraging EDs was acceptable? Should we let homophobic hate crimes keep occurring because that’s what used to happen?

The number one goal of our new generations should be to reconstruct society and dismantle all the harmful practices that were done by our predecessors. Ending the cycle is our responsibility and no one else’s, and to do that, we have to take active measures to undo what they’ve done and erase what is “the norm.” Just thinking it’s wrong isn’t enough; we must take action to cut that shit out.

And because these were the “old-fashioned ways” it’s still the default for almost every writer to create for a female audience. Imagine a fandom has 200 writers. 190 would write for female MCs, and only 10 writers would write for more diverse MCs. Should everyone else that is not female (and, by the way, gender-queer people represent a massive percentage of fandoms online, and males do exist within our fandom spaces) just keep living their lives having to picture other people instead of themselves, because not enough people care enough to include them in their writing?

Here’s a realistic representation of what you’re saying: let’s say there are 2 million LNDS players around the world. 1 million are female. 1 million are not. The second 1 million will never get to see themselves as the MC. Now they can’t even picture themselves in fiction? Should the second 1 million be forced to feel left out in their own fandom space?

The same also happens with race representation in fandoms. Less than 50% of the world population is white. Yet we don’t see except very few people in fandoms writing for Black people, Latinos, Arabs, South-Asians, South-East Asians, Inuits, Native Americans, etc. Why is that? It’s because fandoms are catered towards white people. So should we just let the entire half of the globe never feel included in the art/writing fandom creators make? Do they not deserve representation and comfort too?

So when I write, I write for everyone. And when I say everyone, I mean EVERYONE. Because I think everyone deserves to see themselves loved and cared for by their favorite characters. Because everyone needs that sort of comfort. Because I myself have spent my entire life looking for that comfort in fandom spaces and never finding it. Even if the game doesn’t allow them to do that, I’m giving everyone a chance to enjoy the game through their own eyes, without having to be a stereotypical skinny girl with sleek straight hair and a dainty face. Because we want representation, and if the canon content can’t give us that (even though they claim it’s supposed to be “us”), then at the very least our fandom spaces should provide this. I hope you understand why my rules are there now. They’re a protection for both myself and everyone else in this fandom.

Fanfiction was created by the people, for the people—not just for a certain demographic that fits beauty standards and “old fashioned thinking”—and it should always be for ALL the people.

Being as inclusive as is humanly possible is never a bad thing. Refusing to see why consistently excluding others is wrong IS a bad thing, though.

#maya talks

[mstrickster]

For you ships: what's one thing one half does that drives the other crazy? Could be crazy with annoyance or crazy with love lol

Thank you for your ask! So, I am going to break this down by fandoms. Enjoy!

The BatFam:

I'm starting with my favorite family of Cryptids. I believe that anyone who's ever been in a relationship with one of the bats has generally the same thing that annoys the crap out of them. In fact, I'm sure there's plenty of things. However, I want to talk about two. The first would be the bats and their paranoia, and the second would be their willingness to throw themselves in the line of fire on TV or with no backup plan that they can admit to having.

Like whoever you ship the bats with you can guarantee that there has been a moment in that relationship where they have had to go and either save them from a villain or save them from falling out of the sky. Only for their bat to go, "I had it."

All of their current and past love interests have so many gray hairs.

Also, to love a bat is to endure their contingency plans. They will have a way to stop you if you turn evil. In fact, they have several, and no, they won't tell you.

On the flip side, I could see the bats being annoyed for the pettiest of reasons.

Like Damian gets annoyed with Jon because he refuses to let him sleep in the barn with the animals...during winter. He also gets annoyed when Jon tries to treat him fragilly. Many arguments have started from that and ended with "IM THE SON OF THE BAT!"

Dick is better. He got most of his gremliness out as a child. However, he will get extremely annoyed if you eat his stash of cereal. Or if you take his siblings' side during an argument.

People do joke that Jason is always annoyed. He isn't, but he also doesn't see a point in hiding his frustration. However, he gets annoyed to death when someone goes into battle unprepared. He is resourceful and will chew people out for getting hurt in a clearly avoidable incident.

Tim is a lot like Jason, where annoyed sometimes feels like his default. However, he only gets annoyed when people talk over him. Or that one time that Bernard told him he couldn't punch his way out of all problems and Conner agreed with him. Tim pouted for like a week. Bernard is constantly annoyed when his boyfriends are late for a dinner date because they stopped a criminal. There's two of them and they both had to get sidetracked? Ridiculous.

Cass doesn't get annoyed, really. Of course, not many people would be brave enough to annoy Cass. Steph can be ridiculous, but Cass usually looks on in fond amusement rather than annoyance. She does love seeing Steph go all superhero mod, though.

MOVING ON!

The Mighty Ducks

Banksway: There are definitely a couple of things that drive Adam crazy with annoyance but also crazy with love at the same time. One thing is when Charlie truly believes something, he will stubbornly follow his beliefs even to the point of ruin. Like I could see Charlie coming out because he is so intent on his feelings for Adam and he's like "I'm not going to fucking hide you!" It's so endearing but but Adam really wishes he would just listen to him. He also gets annoyed with Charlie stubbornness. Especially since a lot of the times if Charlie thinks he's right he will act like he's right. Until he's proven wrong. However if he is proven right he will rub it in Adam's face a little bit. On the flip side when it comes to Adam Charlie gets annoyed that he doesn't always voice how he really feels. Like unless you push Adam to the breaking point, he will conceal; don't feel his way out of most things. It's not that animal won't fight for things it's just that a lot of things you just doesn't see the reason to put in the effort. He's very good at following rules, and Charlie wishes he wasn't.

Gerreau: I don't think there's much that Connie and Guy get annoyed with each other about. It does drive guy crazy with love when he sees Connie do her leadership thing. Like he loves to see her take charge. He doesn't know it but Connie does the same thing with him. She loves to Hype him up and she just adores him. Like he could bake cookies and she would just be so madly in love because he did that. It is truly adorable.

Hazbin Hotel

Now you didn't specify fandoms, so I'm including this one because these are some of my newer ships.

Huskerdust:

Obviously, Husk gets annoyed when Angel is fake. It drives him insane when he tries to hide how he's actually feeling behind his facade. However, it also drives him crazy with love when he gets to see Angel do something he really loves, like dancing. He just gets all warm and fuzzy all over. For Angel, it drives him mad when Husk thinks badly of himself or thinks that he isn't worth redeeming. He gets very passionate and will scream affection at Husk. Saying things like how he is worth more than any of those other lowlives outside the hotel. Then he will hug and cuddle Husk until he agrees with him.

Radioapple:

I feel like a better question is what these two do that doesn't drive the other person crazy. Like Alastor can stand slightly different and Lucifer will think he's doing it to annoy him. Which is exactly what Alastor is doing. They are constantly butting heads, and that's why they work. No one pushes them to outdo themselves like the others! Sometimes, they even push each to be better, if only on accident. They are a disaster, and that's why I love them.

Chaggie:

I don't think it's a big annoyance, but I do feel like Vaggie gets a little annoyed at Charlie's willfulness to trust almost anyone. Vaggie is always on edge if there is even a chance someone will betray them. However, Charlie isn't like that, and it can be frustrating. However, that's also why Vaggie loves her. It drives her insane with love when she sees Charlie tap into all her power and show the world who they are messing with. For Charlie, she kinda gets frustrated with Vaggie's trust issues, but she tries not to express it. She is driven mad with love when she sees her girlfriend fight for the hotel.

Anyways, that is all. Thank you! 😊

#anon ask #anon answered #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #stephcass #timberkon #jayroy #joyfire #birdflash #damijon #jonathan samuel kent #the mighty ducks #adam banks #charlie conway #banksway #guy germaine #connie moreau #hazbin hotel #huskerdust #radioapple #chaggie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin alastor #lucifer morningstar

[panuccispizza]

I received a phone call the other day where my dad was with his neighbor? and he was just trying to wish happy Thanksgiving but for some reason within the conversation he slipped up on my pronouns and was trying to be supportive while also outing me to this stranger by also fucking up on the wording and just misgendering me. but the neighbor got upset at him and me And started telling him to hang up the phone, and she kept trying to make a point to misgender me but she was gendering me correctly, just being transphobic about it. and it was kind of funny but also I cried the other day (hard) and I still feel flat and empty but I'm forced to go into my barely passable service job otherwise I get punished for black friday

#every year it seems like i cant catch a break around thanksgiving all my displacement is in late november #im exhausted and i dont know how to tell my dad i accept his stupidity because i know hes not going to be any better than he is now. #but its unacceptable to talk about someone like that and no i do NOT know this woman i dont care if i met her ONCE. #and its just annoying like im sick of being trans because im sick of worrying about being wrong all the time and every single fucking thing #that i do is wrong like im always fucking wrong #like dad you and mom did a hand in giving me fucking COMPLEX TRAUMA and ive been working on healing and taking care of myself #because i want to be able to live a normal life. i want things and fulfillment. #my brother was able to go into the army to get the easy pass out of poverty and im probably going to kill myself by 30 #literally i need ans want therapy so bad..... no insuranc

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME #there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing #and the writing is what i need to be doing #writeblr #this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to #edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol #i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!! #my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means #i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her) #hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong #i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet. #i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse #i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!! #i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO #i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness #and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it #im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us #i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer #and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art. #i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work #even if it means being miserable #but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.

[adelinamoteru]

its kinda crazy that yall will apply real world politics and situations to gotham when it comes to jason and his ‘vigilantism’, but never choose to take that angle when analyzing any other bat character’s

brother eye from batman? hello? does constant nonconsensual surveillance seem like an ethical way to keep an eye on supposed allies or stop crime in real life? does beating people up until they comply with u (under fucking duress) seem like the ethical way to produce testimonies and confessions?

but nah, one speech from jason in utrd and yall are up in arms about how nothing he’s saying is actually conducive to lowering crime rates.

at the end of the day, it doesn’t fucking matter who’s right and who’s wrong regarding these morals in real life because the dc universe is so fucking far from reality in the crime that the justice system has to deal with. there is no point in arguing a reality standpoint if its not going to be applied to vigilantism in the bat comics as a whole.

and on the topic of fiction, the willful ignorance as to how jason’s story also portrays a victims revenge/justice is just boring at this point. how are themes in a narrative not coming through to you. especially when doing literature analysis for any of these comics.

#jason todd #red hood #dc #batman #dcu #why dont u guys ever choose to argue about smth past the surface level conflict #and why is it always argued in terms of a realistic justice system #violence is always gonna breed more violence yes thats a fucking given #but do I also think killing someone like the joker will yield that same result? no not fucking rlly #bc we’re talking about gotham and batman comics #stay tuned I will be releasing a long awaited (bc im too fucking lazy to try and get my thoughts down) about the rlly fucking narly aspects #of bruce and jasons difference in morals #lets get real personal im no longer interested in morality im interested in character motivations and #rationales #I wanna know talk about WHY bruce and jason think the way they do and why they’ve chosen not to cross to the other side/abandon their side #not whether they’re right or wrong #this tumblr is just me regurgitating the same damn sentiments over and over again but with no pay off #I have to say it every day for every time that I see it happening with no change

[themyscirah]

Complaining abt Suicide Squad yet again but the fact that they have Waller exposing the alien community to space racist attacks and talking abt how she got to her position through deceit and being a terrible person and stuff is just. Ahsfiwueh JUST SAY YOU DONT KNOW WALLER.

Anyways literally the 3rd mission of the Squad ever (and the first framed as smth Waller picked and not orders from above) was the Squad discrediting and stopping a rogue vigilante who was only arresting POC and funneling white people into white supremacy groups (of which he was the most prominent member) in SUICIDE SQUAD #4. and it's explicitly framed as this mission being personal for Waller that she's hiding from the government bc its illegal like. Guys. Please why are we having her incite (space bc comics) racist attacks now

Also the whole "Amanda got her position through deceit and being a terrible person" NO. she KEPT her position through being shitty and playing complicated political games!!! She wasn't always that way like there is a difference and it is IMPORTANT ppl PLEASEEEE. In Secret Origins #14 we learn Amanda's backstory and she used to be a normal, caring person! Like even after she entered into working in government and politics she wasn't automatically morally bankrupt like please people. She was originally given control of the Squad by Reagan (*sigh* 80s comics...) to distract and get rid of her because she was so successful at pushing progressive social policy in Congress. Acting like she's this static pillar of evil is such a waste of her character and so fucking uninteresting and disrespectful to her arc it drives me MAD.

Like I am NOT saying Waller is all sunshine and rainbows, she fucking SUCKS (said w love <3) but like there's a human being there. It's a progression, she has a character arc like please, DC, please!!! They've fucked up Waller so bad and made her so opaque and uninteresting she can't even be the protagonist of her own story for fucks sake!

Like I don't know how many times I have to scream it until DC hears me or remembers but WALLER IS THE MAIN CHARACTER OF SUICIDE SQUAD. ITS HER BOOK. yet right now she's a cutout to be used as the villain wherever the writers please. Even in her book we get none of her perspective really displayed, no exploration of her thoughts with any kind of understanding of the role she traditionally has played and was made to play in the story.

#its like youre unable to root for her in any form. which is annoying bc shes actually awesome actually #also having her say “actually im the good guy fuck you'' w/o any actual deep analysis of her psyche or whatever while doing these things #doesnt count as development or showing shes 3 dimensional. its just having 2 dimensional waller say shes right when everyone is obviously #supposed to believe shes wrong #anyways i want real waller back please i miss herrrrrrrr #anyways hope mr john ridley has read secret origins no 14. i know its from 1987 but please guys please. my only hope #also it was a few months ago but i think they tried to push certain elements of a diff backstory in dream team and sorry but fuck that. and #any mention of another waller background like my eyes are closed sry. im a preboot truther #actually im just ignorant of most squad comics outside the original series. im gonna do a readthrough and become knowledgeable on other #stuff i just need to find time. so if im wrong then sorry if its smth factual and if you disagree with my opinion then uh sorry for ur loss #anyways shoutout to the time i had a nerd night w my one friend and she was asking me abt dc and said my favorite villains and i said waller #and silver swan. and she had a “yuck WHY” to waller and a ???? to silver swan. love shouting out my faves and explaining them to the less #informed. didnt say a number 3 but would probably be parallax ig. idk hes kind of slay. or maybe someone else honestly i like hal but waller #and nessie are blorbo level for me i could think abt them for hours #or maybe it wouldnt be parallax actually idk who my 3 would be. hes definitely up there but way below the other 2. maybe the cheetah #interpretation that i personally have. v different from the popular cheetah interpretation esp rucka vers actually. much closer to the pérez #and esp develops some subtext there surrounding barbara and the exploitation and theft of sacred cultural artifacts and pieces but also #like british colonization a lil bit #but i actually despise the cheetah that lives in my head but think shed be interesting to use narratively and see diana fight #vs the other guys who i find interesting and sympathetic and like for themselves #whereas my fave interpretation of cheetah can rot in hell #i got off topic here #blah #swishy rant #also disclaimer that w the main character ik dreamer is the main character of dream team. im talking more in general and that amanda should #always have a huge role as shes the main character of the squad and yet is treated like its villain and not its protag #sui sq

[opens-up-4-nobody]

I feel like I'm losing my mind. Like this has to be a thing right? It's a thing I experience at least. Please please please tell me abt ur experience if u do 🙏

#all the literature i find is like yeah pmdd can be mistaken for bipolar but then they dont talk abt mania or hypomania #so im like ??? wtf is happening? #i mean i wasnt looking that hard but its still weird to me bc i tell my mum i possibly had a hypomanic episode and she instantly was like #hm could b hormones and she was 1000% percent right bc it happens mostly in the days before bleeding starts #so like i cant b the only one out there. and it doesnt happen all the time. and usually its not that extreme #like id say its mostly just elevated mood and it mostly just lasts like 3 days or so. so i dont think it counts as hypomania. but thats wha #ill select bc i had one time that felt so fucking crazy it felt like there was something seriously wrong with me. it was fun tho #before i crashed so hard i had to leave work in the middle of the day bc i couldnt stop crying lol #anyway. im curious #menstruation #pmdd #pms #its always depression this depression that. why the fuck do i wanna run around in circles screaming until i die? riddle me that batman

[chickenoptyrx]

I added trunks to that last doodle and uuhhhh.. wasted a buncha time

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#my bullshit #idk what theyre talkin about but its probably dumb #ill probably see somethin horribly wrong in like half an hour and hate my life. but #*posts now anyways* #sunova bitch i knew it i fucking didnt even do the gd gemstones! #ok did the gemstone things #cant wait to realize what obv thing i messed up next :D #aaaaand iv added a buncha the same squares i always add instead of a real background :U #god forbid i just. wait to post somethin til im sure i dont wanna tweak it any more #no no its WAY better to just constantly edit #then have several slightly different versions floatin around out there #lol hate. hate that i am like this #theyre friends cause who cares

[i-will-always-love-the-jedi]

doomed by the narrative :´(

Bonus Elzar realizing that he can protect her all he wants but he will never be able to save Avar from herself

…

#poor babies :´( #also i refuse to draw Elzar with a beard #don’t hold it against me #anyways back to my agenda #the fact that they are always depicting Elzar as the one most likely to fall #but Avar would be so much more interesting tbh #also she IS doomed by the narrative #almost every villain in phase 3 has beef with her #the hutts and general the Nihil and Lourna and fucking Ro #anyways maybe I’m wrong maybe we’ll get a Happy End for them #elvar #also yes im back with The symbolism of halos #and those weird hands belong to people who have died because #angst #me when I have to do so much work stuff but I sketch my silly little space wizards instead #star wars the high republic #the high republic #elzar mann #avar kriss

[pickled-flowers]

Also just because you get annoyed by something someone is doing doesn't mean they are evil you can leave us alone

#this is about autistic people. #that guy in you class that is always asking questions? he always raises his hand theres nothing wrong with it #it takes time in the class but that's how he makes sure he understands the subject #and meanwhile every other student decides hes an asshole #that girl who doesnt blink and who cant seem to have a linear conversation is not doing anything wrong #you dont like interacting with her but that doesnt say anything about her you can leave her alone you dont have to bitch behind her back #that person cant read social cues? why are you getting mad? can you shut the fuck up? #it is insane how often some of my friends talk about people who are clearly autistic and are mad at them #no its not because theyre autistic theyre just always interupting! #its not because theyre autistic they just make me uncomfortable! PLEASE LISTEN TO YOURSELF #i swear youre all asshole to us #no respect fr #its so annoying to see you run in a circle trying to justify calling someone an ass for doing literally nothing wrong #youre allowed to feel how you want about other people but you always jump to bullying #and whenever i try to make them realize they get so deffensive #just because you grew up with an autistic brother does not make you a fucking expert youre not even close to him!! #ok sorry im gonna go hit my bong im getting too angry lol

[thekintsugikids]

i noticed the similarities between fnowae and pavlove about a year and a half ago?? something like that. and quite frankly, while i could panegyrize fob’s entire discography till the end of time, specifically hearing those songs back to back, hearing, “i’m the invisible man who can’t stop staring at the mirror,” followed by, “i’m just the man on the balcony, singing ‘nobody will ever remember me’” made me absolutely spiral. like…both songs feel like they’re about this heart wrenching, soul crushing loneliness and just wanting someone to understand, to feel the way you do, to just fucking get it already, but the difference is in the way they see that. the different perspectives.

to fully explain this i think it’s important to fully understand the amadeus of it all for which i cannot recommend enough zero’s post about fnowae.

to use some of their words/phrasing, the quote itself as the title…fascinates me. it is salieri (in this instance, pete) repudiating god, declaring him to be his mortal enemy from here on for having the nerve to bestow upon amadeus (patrick) such brilliance (and i will be referring to him as amadeus because that feels like it might be a little cleaner than calling him mozart throughout this whole Thing etc etc etc). to mock salieri’s mediocrity. he is so envious of amadeus that he feels amadeus’s gifts are a divine punishment from god himself. “from now on we are enemies, you and i.”

what does all of that have to do with pavlove, though? amadeus is the gifted one, whom salieri finds to be insufferably annoying, but staggeringly brilliant. indescribably so (the fact that they do eventually befriend one another, and when amadeus dies, it essentially drives salieri insane and many years later he even claims he murdered amadeus, despite the fact that amadeus was sick, having worked himself to exhaustion and death……all of that is another can of worms i don’t…i don’t have it in me to crack open right now). “nobody will ever remember me, rejoice and fall to your knees.” “i want to make you as lonely as me, so you can get addicted to this.” bone crushing loneliness clawing at the door like a dog just begging for companionship. i need someone, please be that someone. i don’t know what to do if i don’t have someone. but maybe it’s for the best. but i can’t leave well enough alone (historically, “i don’t do too well on my own”) so i need you to feel what i feel. empty. isolated. lonely. then maybe you’ll need me the same way i need you.

“their faces are dancing till they can’t stand it.” being the outsider, the wallflower, the lone observer, because what else can you do? what else is there to do? it’s three drinks too late to talk to anyone but myself. who even wants to be there with the lunatic on a downward spiral entirely of his own design, who has faded so seamlessly into the background that he doesn’t even know who he is or if he even exists anymore. getting worse till there’s nothing left.

from now on we are enemies is pete vs patrick. two brilliant artists duking it out because one is so enamored with, but absolutely cannot stand, the brilliance of the other. pavlove is…different. more distanced. it’s the realization. and if pavlove is the realization, from now on we are enemies is the final showdown.

pavlove is misery with the life he’s cultivated, with the parties and the tabloids running rampant in the 2000s. the drugs he’d been doing that his best friend didn’t even fully realize the severity of because, in his mind, drug abuse was this abstract thing that he couldn’t quite comprehend. fnowae is the culmination of isolating oneself from those which he loves and cares about, because he’s so lost in his misery.

“what good comes of something when i’m just the ghost of nothing?” because progression in any capacity is a threat to your self preservation. creative integrity, personal growth, whatever it is, it has begun to feel like it’s unattainable because the risk is too high. so what’s the point? it’s a three-and-two pitch to walk to anywhere else. so stay where you are. don’t bother. patrick is brilliant, patrick is gifted and he doesn’t even know it and i’m just a painter looking at the walls trying to finger paint and he’s the only one who has been able to finish these half-baked paintings i throw at him. if this thing is breaking down, what am i good for?

trick question. stalemate. stay right here. if anything, move back.

but there’s a wife to try to make a life with and a child on the way and if i do move forward, who’s to say i don’t just find new ways to make it all worse? my anchor has started to completely detach—get engaged, make a solo record, make himself a life, eventually…soon, even—and i’m let out to sea all on my own and i don’t want to be here, i wanted to go back to land. i wasn’t prepared to still be here. but somehow, i am, and i don’t know what to do. i’m the just the man on the balcony, singing, “nobody will ever remember me,” because amadeus over here is doing the things that are worthwhile. he’s the one people will revere, and i will fade in the distance as the blurry shadow whose features have smudged and disappeared with time, because my contributions pale in comparison to his genius, because i wasn’t blessed with the ability to sing or write music or do so many of the ten billion things he is capable of. because who knows how i’ll be remembered now that the ship i’ve spent the last 8 years manning is possibly about to sink and maybe that means that will be my legacy, if i even have a legacy. if anyone remembers that i was ever here. but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to be remembered. that doesn’t mean i like what i’ve become, how my meaning has become dependent on the twin skeleton beside me. i’m the invisible man who can’t stop staring at the mirror. begging to be remembered…because that’s the point of it all, right?

i said it at the beginning, fall out boy had to be fall out boy and leave the world on a cliffhanger for three years. but it’s been 14 years since believers never die vol 1. we know what happens next. we’ve read the next chapter, watched the sequel, seen how it all pans out. they get to be happy middle aged men playing these songs, reclaiming the trauma and horrors and pain within them, making them into newer, happier memories, because they’re not about that pain anymore. and they haven’t been for a long time. they haven’t been theirs in ages. and so they can finally let it go, with their spouses and kids in the audience cheering them on (well, maybe not the kids. they’re dads, after all, they can’t think they’re cool). with stronger bonds between them and a stronger sense of self in each of them. because they’re not defined by each other anymore, no, this is their fun little art project. patrick composes for a living now (a composer but never composed, who always saw himself as a composer first, now literally a composer by trade), joe and pete each have multiple different ventures they explore in their free time (the symphonies of the overdosed, now being sung by yourself because you don’t need someone else to do it for you anymore), andy is in a million different bands at any given time. they don’t need each other—they don’t need to be defined by each other—they want to be with each other now.

no amadeus, no salieri, no jealousy, no enemies in sight, just four dudes who love making music together. who can make music on their own, who do make music on their own and/or separate from fall out boy, but can’t make their music without all of them together. at the end of the day, “no matter how obsessed you’ve been with your own vanishing, there will always be someone who still wants you whole.”

#i have gone fully insane im sorry #this has been festering for SO LONG and ive had so much to say but always felt super worried that my analysis was like #somehow Not Good Enough (despite the fact that any interpretation of art is valid i somehow believed mine would be the one wrong one) #and now with the collective insanity over fnowae after they played it #felt like as good a time as any to go crazy #besides who’s gonna read the whole thing atp skxosoxkskdi #whatever. going insane etc etc what the fuck everrrr #but yeah. pavlove and from now on we are enemies are a matching set do not separate!!!! #analysis.txt #fall out boy #patrick stump #pete wentz #joe trohman #andy hurley #fob #from now on we are enemies #pavlove #believers never die #folie a deux