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becomingbuffypodcast · 7 months

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Who get the biggest passes from Buffyverse fans and can you give examples of the worst things these characters do?

Well this is a juicy question.

Spike, and Cordelia.

Interestingly, at some point, both characters were given the role of calling Buffy out on her "crap." James Marsters even talks about how he was brought in as a replacement for Cordelia in season 4, but then was replaced by Anya when they decided to do something else with him.

With Cordy being the mean girl, and Spike the soulless vampire, the writers had the freedom to use these characters to say and do some incredibly cruel things towards Buffy in the name of "brutal honesty," while also excusing their behavior because they weren't meant to be the hero...at least initially.

This worked a little too well, as Charisma and James were amazing in their roles. Each character is charming, beautiful, multifaceted, and extremely funny.

The problem is, you can't keep your characters stagnate, so the writers were forced to give Cordy and Spike character growth, but also find a way to retain who they are. This is incredibly difficult when your character was literally written to clash with Buffy, and is popular for saying mean, biting things in the name of "tough love."

-Cordelia-

While Queen C is more than the resident mean girl, her cruel words and selfish behavior are praised as "truth" and confidence, with her belittling nearly every member of the Scooby gang. She is constantly pitting herself against Buffy; (Homecoming, Halloween, etc) demeaning and belittling her when Buffy has personally saved her life several times. She begins to show signs of character growth in season 3, but once Xander cheats on her, reverts right back to blaming Buffy for everything. Instead of holding Xander accountable for his actions, she makes a wish that Buffy never came to Sunnydale, and then never sees the consequences for her own actions.

Even after her move to LA, she calls Buffy a cry-Buffy, blames her for turning Angel into Angelus, emasculates Wesley, victim blames and shames a SA survivor (Untouched), and is generally just careless about what she says or does, with no thought about how her words effect others.

Personally, while I do see some growth over her time on Angel, I do not buy her characterization in the later seasons where she is drastically changed to become a Champion, and then shoe-horned into a relationship with Angel. On top of that, she never atones for or even recognizes her need to change for her awful behavior, and that makes it very hard for me to forgive her for her past sins, let alone root for her.

It's possible that with better writing and without Joss being a horrible person, that her transition would have been more organic and believable.

-Spike-

For a show about feminism, the writers really spend a lot of time on this man. He steals Buffy's underwear, stalks her, makes a sex robot that looks just like her, attempts to kill her multiple times, boasts about killing and torturing other slayers, justifies it by saying they wanted it, ties her up, then spends a season belittling her just so that she'll sleep with him. THEN when she refuses sex with him, attempts to force himself on her.

And for those of you who say, "oh he just didn't have a soul yet." Fine.

After he had a soul, he boasts about assaulting her, shames her for using him for sex when he knew she didn't love him, shames her for not loving him, and blames her for the reason he's tortured with having a soul. (Beneath You)

He nearly kills Robin Wood, and then mocks him for not being loved by his mother (which is proven to be false in "Damage"), all while wearing the coat that he stole from Robin's mother after he killed her.

Not once does he apologize to Buffy or attempt to hold himself accountable, even after he has a soul. It is not until "Damage" on Angel that we see any sort of unselfish remorse.

Then to add insult to injury, season 7 has Buffy spending so much time taking care of Spike, rescuing Spike, training with Spike, reassuring Spike that he is a good man...all to the detriment of her other relationships. People like to blame the Potentials for why season 7 is as clunky as it is, but I blame the focus on Spike.

Even worse, the show doesn't seem to want Spike to change, as there's hardly a difference between pre souled and ensouled Spike. And that goes against the show's core tenant of choice and growth.

From the very beginning, vampires represent the opposite of adolescence in that they are stagnate and do not change. "Fool for Love" very clearly establishes that Spike's persona is created to compensate for his lack of an identity. Cecily's rejection of him deeply wounds him and he is shown to create a facade to mask his insecurities. So he takes from powerful women and forms a false identity around them to prove that he is not beneath them. The episode emphasizes this pattern with Cecily, Dru, and the two Slayers, continuing in present day with Buffy.

In order to be consistent with the lore and message of the show, ensouled Spike needed to look a lot different from un-ensouled Spike, but the writers knew he wouldn't be as popular.

And so we're left with a half baked season where we're supposed to believe that Buffy is distant from everyone but Spike, who looks the exact same as he did the season before when he tried to force himself on her.

It's just icky. It's the opposite of empowering. It blurs the lines of the lore. And it sends the wrong message.

We can like these characters and even root for them, but we need to be honest about their flaws, and not justify awful writing and problematic characterization.

#buffy summers #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy btvs #tv: btvs #buffy watching #becomingbuffypodcast #sarah michelle gellar #alyson hannigan #buffy anne summers #btvs s5 #anti spuffy #anti spike #anti cordelia #bangel #buffy and angel #buffythevampireslayer #not really anti #i dont hate them

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a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire · 5 months

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since ive been really obsessed with it I was thinkin about making a post thats like "Rhysand is like what if Count von Krolock of the tanz der vampire musical was a swagless cishet man with no self awareness who didnt even have a weird gay son" but then I was like, honestly how come neither Tamlin nor Rhysand ever had kids from their dillydallying before they met Feyre. yeah yeah I know bc fae are supposed to be borderline infertile but 1) thats not true, points towards Beron and Tamlin's Shit Dad 2) theyre both like 500 years old, even if the odds of having kids are astronomically low if they were just fucking around without protection, they would both atleast have one. And yeah, i know about the fuckin Safe Sex Tea too but idgaf about that, the worldbuilding of acotar is bland and unimaginative it makes me wanna cry, these fae should be like quiverfull family levels of weird about having and absolutely refuse the notion of birth control except it would be less horrible an damaging by virtue of them only having like 2 kids a century, if that. Also, even with the Safe Sex Tea I feel like if you knew that you were borderline infertile and you didnt have to worry about stds bc you lived in a world without actual disease, you would be wayyyyy less careful about protection during sex anyway

Anyway, sorry about that rant, I have terminal worldbuilders disease and it flares up when I encounter this kind of thoughtless bullshit, back to my initial thought of "how come those ancient horny bastards didnt have kids before Feyre" beyond the possible in-uinverse justifications of how they could have them despite the bullshit worldbuilding, it would just be interesting. and fun. Yknow, maybe not for the first book since that would maybe ruin the romance a little but from acomaf forward its like, why shouldnt they aside from the fact that sjm did not at any point stop to consider the implications of making her characters this fucking old

Oh man, speaking of sjm not considering the implications of things, given her track record of writing the contrasts/parellels between Rhysand and Tamlin, I feel like if she had actually done this she wouldve made Tamlin be like, not present in his children's life at all, he just pays them the fae equivalent of child support and maybe they exchange letters or some shit and Feyre would be like "thats so cruel and cold of him!!" but then Rhysand would tell her about his kids and he would be like "pshhh, I would never pay child support! But I give them positions of power in my court and take the boys (and girls hashtag feminism) out for a game of faeball every month" and Feyre would be like "oh, thats so much better my bestest and most handsomest highlord <3 <3" but all us Rhyshaters would forever make fun of him for it. Feminst King Rhysand Who Doesn't Pay Child Support 😍

#anti acotar #anti sjm #anti rhysand

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see-arcane · 1 year

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This made me realise that Mina uses "my __" a lot (my Jonathan, my beloved husband, my dear one) compared to him doing so no wonder she'd be not pleased if someone tried to snatch him away

The thing about Jonathan and Mina is that they are both very much more than the standard 'in love' with each other that you'll see in a lot of Mandatory Love Interests in media. They're not just in love.

They're in crush.

They're in infatuation.

They're in 'my beloved is all that matters and dear God I don't know how I got lucky enough to win the romance lottery to convince them I was worthy, but I will spend every second of every day trying to earn that love.'

The main difference lays somewhere in--sigh along with me--the gender politics of it all. Because the thing is, even if we barely squint at the time period (and, sadly, even at our modern relationship pitfalls), Mina is very, very aware that, by partner standards, she is the one who got the 'luckier' pull. Specifically because Stoker wrote Jonathan as the rule-breaking, love worshipping, refusing-to-other or abandon champion of a Prince Charming out of the whole cast; and possibly out of most male romantic leads in the era's literature, Period.

Meanwhile, despite Mina being very much her own breakthrough of early feminism and interesting traits--again, sighing over the New Woman commentary, but still--when we look past the unique/strong/smart character facets, we really see a lot of the Classic Darling Female Love Interest formula at her core. She is sweet and caring and loving and loved.

As all good non-hag non-femme fatale characters were at the time. You can't throw a rock in Victorian and earlier lit without hitting a similarly winsome young lady. They pop up like charming weeds.

It's Jonathan Harker who stands apart. Jonathan Harker who loves unconditionally, who does not conform to classic masculine heroism, who would fight God and the Devil to hold his beloved above all harm, who would damn himself, who would kill and die to keep his beloved safe and happy. Who would--gasp!--rather be equal with his partner, even preferring to let her take the lead!

Which was un-fucking-heard of at the time. Even if she/Stoker weren't really caught up on what New Women actually stood for, I'd bet money that Mina knew exactly how rare a prize like Mr. Harker was in a sea of brutes and cheats and general misogynistic louts looking for a housemaid they could imprison with a wedding band and belittle on a daily basis before they go out to meet mistresses 1-3.

Mina is not an idiot. Jonathan is not either, but I think he is blessedly naïve enough to think there was anyone else in the world who would champion Mina as much as he does, as much as she deserves. She's Mina, for crying out loud! An angel! A goddess in and of herself! Who wouldn't adore her as he does? And to Van Helsing and the Suitor Squad's credit, they do come close, risking what they do...

But they do make that murder oath.

And for that, Mina is grateful. She did ask for it.

But though she never writes it, maybe only rarely dares to even think it--such a blasphemous, selfish thought!--she is doubly grateful that Jonathan never swore with them. Proof positive, that. Somewhere in her, a secret proud voice whispers:

Look, Mina Harker née Murray. Look at the paragon among lovers you have tricked into loving you and being your knight. You have wed Eros himself, lucky Psyche that you are. He does not even realize what a treasure he is. The one treasure that matters. The one which evil powers have tried so hard to steal away. Do not let them, Mina. Let them have gold and magic and your own blood if they must, but never, ever him.

So yes.

All this in mind, it is very little wonder that she enjoys referring to Jonathan as my husband, my love, my darling. My, my, my, mine, mine, mine. Hearing and saying it is a reassurance that she has not woken up from this sweet dream. Just as I'm sure Jonathan saying the same--or else repeating Mina's name like his own prayer--reassures him. They are real, they are in love, they are each other's.

And so when someone like Miss Helen Penelosa comes along and Mina catches wind of her plans for Jonathan, I can't not see her loading that revolver.

#Mina: Normally I quite oppose violence.#Mina; loudly undoing the safety: HOWEVER--#The Harkers: Do Not Separate (or Else)#mina harker #jonathan harker #holiest love #helen penelosa #dracula #the parasite #bram stoker #arthur conan doyle

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mommytimmy · 1 year

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Hi hello i know this is out of the blue but i need you to know that i just. Absolutely adore your art. All of it. Its so so gorgeous and delicate in just. An incredible way and if i could id print out every single piece and consume it like a 5 course dinner. Your tim is so so gender and the way you draw him is beautiful. Genuinely, your style makes me so so happy to see

omg 🥺🥺 I took a while to answer this because I couldn't think of an answer that wasn't (incoherent screaming).

I really like drawing pretty people and pretty men, and Tim is so special because he also brings a youthfulness to it, like his cheeks are soft and still a bit baby fat despite his Self Care Choices I think fljskahdjklsahd (if I were to age him up, I'd definitely keep the kind of looks that have people carding him to buy alcohol) 🙈

I keep thinking of the balance of drawing a pretty androgynous guy without relying on over-feminization, and I don't know! I think as a character Timmy should be confident in how he presents himself and therefore does absolutely deranged stuff with his fashion choices LMFAO like his Sticking Up Hair from old comics with the Gotham giants magenta shirts LMFAO I haven't drawn that, but it lives in my head rent free, he has so much range. OR how in GK he tucks his pants into his socks oh my god I want to shove him into a locker????

Tim doesn't know how cute he is even when he hasn't washed his sweater for 2 weeks fr... But definitely, I feel like I've drawn him when he's "produced" himself for the public (taking notes for future drawings)

Another super nice thing about getting into comics is that legitimately I can do whatever I want with Tim's design? If you look at my first drawings on this account, definitely the way I have been settling on drawing Tim has changed, and I keep thinking of ways to live my best life while also having Tim look like himself, and it's still a bit of a learning curve heheh I think the goal would be having people recognize him from a lineup of his siblings (which I have to get to btw, I really want to draw the Robins but crash into the wall of "I don't draw handsome people as well as I do pretty people" fjsahdjklsad)... which comics don't do btw, it's embarrassing how many times I've confused Tim and Dick? They should color code them like the power rangers jfc

I'm also glad (laying on the floor crying) to learn more anatomy even though I never actually show it lmfao I still draw it like some clown before drawing clothes over it, but drawing superheroes is SUCH a chance to learn how to draw!

All this to say, I draw ultimately to make myself happy, and I'm lucky enough that with a couple days of resting the eyes, I can look at my own drawings like someone else made them LOL it also makes me really happy other likeminded people can enjoy the drawings I make (while I also enjoy the fanworks they make; I love ur writing!) I'll keep doing my best to keep learning how to draw so we can have more things to enjoy together! 😤

#ask #bugbeee #kisses ur face!

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goldeneyedgirl · 1 year

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Your babyverse lives rent free in my head. Since your last snippet I only think about Alice and Jasper living in a cozy house with baby Ollie. Alice picking him up at school and Jasper helping him to write his name and his parents names in that cute childish handwriting. All healthy and happy and loving each other forever and a day. And the way Jasper thinks about Ollie as "his boy" 😭😭😭 Sorry about it, you created a monster when you gave me that fic

I still think it's funny you guys love this fic so much. Especially the version I posted when there are six existing variations of how all this went down.

I think my favourite aspect is writing how fatherhood has shaped everyone - as a fandom, there's a lot of discourse on womanhood, feminism, and motherhood because of how emphasized it is in the books, but I haven't seen a lot on fatherhood outside of Carlisle, and Carlisle and Edward's relationship (doesn't mean it isn't out there, it just hasn't come across my dash). But I could waffle on about that for ages; I won't.

I live for the little moments like Jasper getting to introduce Ollie to Peter and Charlotte, and Peter kind of gets this moment of ... closure, almost? That after every single thing that Jasper has gone through and deals with, he's here with a girl who loves him, and their son. And Jasper might be terrified of fucking parenthood up or that Ollie might get sick or hurt, but he's also so, so happy.

Or Alice mathematically working out where Jasper can stand at the local fair so that he can watch Ollie ride a pony for the first time without scaring the poor animal to death because that's one of the memories that Jasper's managed to hold onto all this time - the joy he had around horses when he was a child, and learning to ride.

And then there's all the drama and bullshit - the Volturi, Maria just being extra, Whatever The Fuck Alice and Cynthia's Mother is up to, Ollie having to pretend Alice and Jasper are his cousins when he's too old to look like their son. But that's what makes the happy moments more special.

Have a snippet from an Ollie piece I started before I wrote the 'Daddy' piece. Jasper's a good dad.

In a million years, Jasper never would have guessed he’d end up in this position.

It’s just before six am and the house is quiet, finally. Ollie’s head was against his shoulder, still sniffling around his pacifier as Jasper began the process to make his bottle. Alice and Esme had made up a guide for making Ollie’s bottles to make sure he could feed his son without the risk of burning him, involving three different thermometers and a chart of acceptable temperatures.

He really did prefer when Alice pumped; mixing formula still made him nervous.

Ollie let out a huff of annoyance, but didn’t cry. And he’d been crying since midnight, when he’d woken up and hadn’t been at home.

Alice had dropped him off late the night before, masked up and looking exhausted.

“Cynthia and I both tested positive for strep,” she had explained hoarsely. “I really don’t want Ollie to catch it - can you…?”

He’d taken his sleepy son immediately, and reassured Alice Ollie would be fine; Esme kept the house well stocked for when Alice brought Ollie over.

#asks #anon #my fic: hybrid babyverse #listen some of jasper's good dad vibes definitely coming from alice's expectation that they are partners in this #he doesn't offer so much as she expects #definitely a teaching moment but also part of what makes them work as a couple #they can always ask for the help they need #and have each other's back #alice brandon: girlbossing and gaslighting her civil war boyfriend into being a modern dad #ollie in a bear onesie along for the ride

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rosenallies · 10 months

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i know we haven’t talked about this mini au in a while but will you write a little thing of genderfluid nali seeing results from hormones and rosie being so happy for them 🥹🥹🥹

Omg yes I loved this little mini au I was trying to find any of the prompts I did for it, I think there was one or two actual prompts but I couldn’t find them I remember one I wrote was nali being sad about how they looked bc sadnali is my favorite thing to write for some reason but she wasn’t in the tag, just some random hcs were um 😭 rip <3 but yes <3 this is not sadnali tho <3

——

Denali stared at themself in the mirror, hands wandering their body, feeling the new softness that settled recently, after months on hormones they finally started to see changes, subtle just like they wanted and they couldn’t have been happier.

Their skin was so soft to the touch now, silkier than it’s ever been even though they always were a stickler with moisturizing. That was the first thing they noticed, next came their hips, filling out slightly in a way that gave them a more feminine figure that they thought suited them better. The last, and maybe their favorite was their chest, previously perfectly flat was now slightly puffed up, their nipples sensitive to the touch. The visible change was subtle, but it gave them a sense of euphoria that they hadn’t realized was possible.

“Hi beautiful,” Rosé said softly, pulling them from their thoughts and coming up behind them; hands resting on their hips, squeezing the new softness there gently.

“Hi,” they replied, cheeks warming as they turned in his grip to face him.

“What are you doing, my baby, hmm?”

They giggled sweetly, tucking their face under his chin. “Nothing.”

“Oh, nothing? It looks like you were checking yourself out, baby,” he laughed, “but don’t worry, I don’t blame you. You’re so beautiful.”

Denali looked up at him with a wide eyed gaze. “Really?” They asked sincerely. Rosé had been a huge deciding factor for them starting to take hormones. Denali had been so scared for so long that feminizing their body in any way would make Rosé not attracted to them anymore. They were concerned enough when they anxiously told him they’d prefer to use gender neutral pronouns and be referred to as his partner instead of boyfriend, changing their physical appearance was even scarier. As much joy as these subtle new changes brought to them, they still worried Rosé wouldn’t feel the same.

Rosé hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind their ear, now longer than it’s ever been. “Of course. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life. And you know what? You’ve always been absolutely gorgeous but recently you’re just glowing and it’s the most beautiful thing.”

“I’m really happy,” they whispered like if they said it too loud it would all be taken from them in an instant, “I’ve never liked how I looked before. I know not much has changed but I feel a lot more comfortable.”

“I can see that. I love seeing you look in the mirror without crying or frowning at yourself and I love the way you carry yourself with more confidence. I’m just really very happy for you. You deserve the entire world, you know that?”

Snaking their arms around his neck, Denali stood on their tip toes and kissed him softly. “I love you.”

“I love you the most, my beautiful gem.”

#prompt request #genderfluid nali au

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lhatesports · 2 years

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This is lil something I had on my mind for weeks literally and I just had to write it good thing is not a lot of ppl follow me so I can do whatever I want lol

Pierre/Charles, no idea how many words

Tw feminization (???)

It's not something he's done before, but it is something he has thought about ever since he first saw his mom putting on makeup. The way her eyes would appear a little bigger, more open, with just a few coats of mascara. Or her lips, rosy and shiny, spread into a big smile. He'd asked her why she's doing all of that, once, when he was still too young to know anything about himself. She just smiled at him, pecked his cheek leaving some of the shine on it, and said "because your dad does the same for me".

It didn't make sense to him back then because his dad never wore makeup. He was as manly as someone can be. But he gets it now. Sees it in the way Pierre acts around him. The way he dresses. Pierre always looks put together, and even if he didn't, Charles would still think he looks better than the stars. But he always tries better when he's with Charles. Puts on a perfume he knows Charles loves on him. Styles his hair without gel, because Charles has once told him he likes the way it feels under his fingertips.

So he gets it, he thinks. His mom wanted to look her best for his dad, because his dad always tried to look his best for her. And Charles - he hasn't done anything for Pierre, he thinks. Yes, he wears the rings Pierre bought for him. Said it makes him feel like he's with him all the time, even when he isn't.

Once, Pierre told him he likes the way kissing girls feels like when they have lipstick on. So, he wants to do that for him. But the thing is, Charles doesn't know how to do it. He had watched probably dozen videos of people applying makeup. His YouTube search history and his recommendations page on Instagram are not something he wants other people seeing, ever.

The first lipstick he bought was some cheap nude one - becuse one of the girls said that is the best way to get used to applying one. And now, for the last few days, he's been locking himself in the bathroom and brings his lipstick and a lipstick brush. He tries and tries and almost cries because it never looks good enough. And Pierre deserves the best, not just something mediocre.

But as he starts getting better at it, he starts liking the way it makes him feel. Put together. The way it brings out how white his teeth look. Or how sharp his cheekbones are. So he buys a red lipstick. Puts it on and starts crying. He looks just like his mom did, back when his dad was still alive. It makes him feel better about himself. Maybe he can finally show how much he actually cares about Pierre.

Pierre has always said he likes Charles' eyelashes the best. How he could make every girl jealous. And now, when he knows how to apply lipstick, he buys his first mascara. This time he does his research. Finds out which one is the best for his type of lashes. Which one would make his eyes look bigger and round and his lashes fuller. First time he tries it, he stabs himself in the eye. It hurts like a bitch but he can't complain about it to Pierre. Because then he would know what Charles has been doing and he just wants a little bit more time for himself with makeup. Because it's not about just Pierre anymore, it's about him as well. He never felt like this, so not like himself but also so much like he finally fully belongs to himself. He can just lock himself in the bathroom, try on his lipsticks, watch his favorite youtubers, not be Charles the Ferrari F1 driver. He's just Charles.

But he has to show it to Pierre, because Pierre keeps trying his best when he's with Charles. Wears a new shirt Charles bought him, even though Charles knows it's something he would have never picked out himself. Still doesn't apply hair gel and apologies every time he does. Charles loves him so much, he sometimes feels like his heart might just burst open.

He does it during their free week, when both of them agreed to stay together and just be with each other. He asks Pierre to please stay in the living room and goes to the bathroom. There is no point in locking himself, he knows Pierre wouldn't come in after he had asked him to wait. But there is something calm in the routine he has created for himself.

He applies lipstick first, because he wants to make it perfect. Spends probably too long fixing little mistakes he knows Pierre wouldn't notice but still. This feels special. It feels important. Once he's done with lipstick, he goes on to do his lashes. Goes real slow and wiggles the wand a little, because it works the best that way, he found. He doesn't dare to look at himself in the mirror once he's done, just unlocks the door and steps out. Takes a deep breath and goes to find Pierre.

"What took you so long" Pierre asks and looks like he was trying to say more but nothing comes out. His mouth stays open and his eyes go wide. Charles wants to hide.

"Do you like it?" and his voice sounds desperate even to his own ears. But it does something to Pierre because he moves so fast then, face to face with Charles.

"I - yes, yes I do. I love it. Can I touch?"

And Charles finds himself nodding, eyes full of tears. Pierre's hand is so gentle on his face. His fingers trace around the lipstick and the mascara, but never dare to touch. Like he doesn't want to mess up all the work Charles did.

"Why?" he asks once his hand settles on Charles' cheeks. His eyes look so shiny, like looking at Charles is the most important thing in the world at that moment.

"For you," he answers, even though he knows it's not the whole truth.

#the way i want to expand on this but have no talent or will to do it #just something lil okay #pierre gasly #charles lechair #pierre/charles #my fic #pirales #pirrales #??????#idk

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fiersza · 5 months

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A semi-recent incident made it very clear to me that no matter how much I love a man, no matter how close we are, how much I trust him--I can trust him with me, my money, and my child--but if his girlfriend/wife calls me crying and says she needs a pick up to get space from him, in that moment, she comes first.

I'd like to think that I would react as quickly and as intensely if a guy friend called and asked for a pickup, but I don't think so.

The reality is that regardless of individual stances on feminism and equality, the statistics are still largely against women in matters of domestic assault and abuse. And I don't know if it's the bits of personal trauma that contribute more to that bone-deep response or systemic trauma, but when it comes down to the bottom line, I don't trust men.

I don't trust them because the system they have grown up in has taught them they have more right to their emotions and agency than women do. That they have the right to lash out when they feel emotionally or physically endangered.

It scares me how okay I am with my response and it scares me because I am desperately learning as much as I can to raise a boy who will become a man.

There is no clear path to raise a man who is emotionally intelligent, with emotional regulation skills, who doesn't let people push him around and doesn't let other's expectations define him, but is aware of his community and his place in it; the responsibilities he has both as a human in his community and specifically as a man. And I'm.not talking about the "traditional" man's role, but the role of a human raised in a system that favors him, aware of the disadvantages that system puts others in, and how to balance that. I don't fucking know how to balance that as a white person in a system that favors me, but I'm trying every day to learn more.

Over and over again I keep coming down to drilling in a couple solid core principles and hope the rest will work itself out as he's going to grow up in different systems than I grew up in:

* I want him to learn kindness. First and foremost, be kind. This doesn't mean being a doormat. It doesn't mean not having boundaries. But it requires social awareness and emotional knowledge and regulation.

* I want him to learn to ask questions. To never take "always" and "never" directives or answers without curiosity. To always be asking why and forming ever evolving answers.

I'd love to have a third thing to make it all western-trinity balanced, but that's it, honestly. Everything else I've thought of while writing this can fall under one of those two things.

I have to keep reminding myself my job is not to build the tiny person brick my brick, molding him into the adult I want him to be. My job is to give him tools, and see what kind of human he carves out himself.

#kids #yes all men #parenting #ruminating #brought to you by thinking about that time my best friend was unreasonable and I picked his girlfriend up and she stayed with me a few days #also brought to you by how fast my child is growing up and that the school year is coming to an end

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irritablepoe · 8 months

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6. 3 characters that inspire you

15. 3 quotes that have a special place in your life

29. 3 characteristics of the person you aspire to be

(from that 3 things ask game that u reblogged a while back and i just had the time to find it on my drafts again ashskjjldsj)

Hope u have a great day/night!! 💜

Hiiii Mila!!! :D

Omg I totally forgot that I rb this, but thank you that you’re sending an ask even a while after, that’s so sweet of you <33

3 persons that inspire you

I actually don’t know if this is specifically for real life people or also characters (it’s been a while and I don’t remember ahh)? I’m gonna do real people bc I’ve done characters a lot :3

Rachel Oates – she is a youtuber and talks a lot about feminism, pro-choice stuff and also poetry and I think she’s wonderful and I admire her maturity and knowledge when it comes to certain topics; I’d also like to spend my life similar to her: self-employed, maybe in a relationship but with much privacy, no kids etc. (I recommend watching her, her videos are very well thought out and backed up by studies and stuff)

Fyodor Dostoyevsky writing style inspires me, it enables my ability to ramble in my text lmao; V. E. Schwab in turn taught me that it’s okay to write short sentences (schwab and dosti are fighting in my head at all times) (also V.E. Schwab is a really cool person! :D) (I put basically two persons here lmao, I’m sorry)

Ahhh the third person is hard…. Uhm I would say Ethan Nestor? I’m pretty sure many know him, he’s done unus annus with Markiplier and when I watched it and even after it was over, it inspired me to be more… well, not funny per se but more random and be more myself when I’m around people (i naturally laugh a lot and it encouraged me kinda?). Ethan also talks a lot about how he always thinks he’s not good enough and I relate to that a lot – so it’s a good feeling seeing him be a good and kind person and it inspires me to do the same (I’m often not that successful but yk, I’m trying)

3 quotes that have a special place in your heart

Raskolnikov: „But why do they love me so much, if i don’t deserve it? Oh, if i were alone and no one loved me and i had never loved anyone! All this would never have taken place!“ – this stuck with me and I still think about it, especially bc I often have this thought that everything would be easier if no one loved me and I loved no one, but I know Raskolnikov is wrong (he knows it himself) and therefore I know I’m wrong, if that makes sense? To sneak another quote in here, I think this one quote from jackaby also hits home in that regard: “I wondered what was sadder, leaving someone to cry after you were gone, or not having anyone who’d miss you in the first place”

“He needed to tell her… what? That she was lovely and brave? And better than anything he deserved? That he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. That without meaning to he had begun to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near. He had to thank her for his new hat.” – thank you Ms Bardugo I’m gonna cry in a corner now

Technically all of Kafka’s letter to his father. I’ve probably said it before but this whole letter is like… ouch… kafka somehow always manages to describe what I’m feeling (also in his diaries and works) and yeah, this letter has a very special place in my heart. Especially the part about him not being good enough for his father and also his friends not being good enough (“it was enough that I showed a mere interest in a person – it didn’t occur often because of my character – and you’d bash them with insults […]”), and also the hypocrisy (“please, father, don’t misunderstand me, usually it would have been insignificant details, though those rules bear down on me only because you […] didn’t follow them yourself”) (all of this is translated by me, i don't have the english version) and in general how kafka describes himself in it (especially his hypochondria and how he thinks about his academic achievements)

I wish this was more revolutionary and there were more quotes from books that I haven’t talked about already but well, these are the first that I think of yk :3

3 characteristics of the person you aspire to be

Ok there’s kinda two ways one could interpret that question – either that I pick for example a celebrity that I want to be and list the qualities about them that I want to have OR basically describe your ideal self and I think I’m gonna go with the second one bc I don’t wanna pick one specific person ig? So I’m gonna list some qualities that I wish I had, I hope that’s okay :3

I wish I was more extroverted (even like a little bit; connecting with people is hard when I'm constantly running on low battery and signals in my head are going off lmao)

I know I’m not stupid but I wish I was smarter… like my grades are good but not GREAT, I can think critically but I wish I could write good and clear analyses like some people on here; I also wished I could read faster, sadly, I’m more of a slow reader bc I want to understand the text very thoroughly but if I could read faster I could read MORE and have more input in my brain that I can use :]

I wish I was less anxious (brain go brrrr every time I go outside so I wish I was more confident in my abilities ig)

In summary: my ideal self would be more extroverted, smarter, a fast reader and confident

Thank you again for the ask! :3 it’s gotten really long, also omg i didn't stick to the rules at all lmao i sneaked in so much more stuff hehe >:3

Hope you're having a good day/night too! :D

#long post #putting that in #johnny's silly rambles #as well bc that's a LOT of personal stuff

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition.

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #tom riddle #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #meta #headcanon #opinion

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dreamii-yume · 3 years

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AAAAHHH IT’S FINALLY TIME FOR LEONA’S BIRTHDAY CRUMBS <3

Can I pls request a crumb for Leona that is both spicy and sweet.......like his s/o catching him off-guard during s*x with her tight hugs, soft intimate touches, and verbal I love yous..........she is just wholesomely attacking Leona with geuine love in the middle of his hornii birthday sex present (*≧∀≦*)

Bye I’m going to hide under a rock and cry as I count down the days between this early request and Leona’s actual birthday

Hah— I know this request clearly wanted pure fluff, but like…Yume doesn’t function properly without adding anything fucked up to write lol LISTEN, I was never good at fluff okay (＞人＜;)

Warnings :

Stockholm Syndrome, Misogyny, Unhealthy Relationship(?) but healthy??? cause you were “happy” in the end wat, Yandere, Implications of Past Non-Con/Dub-Con, Abduction, Forced Feminization(?) like— what do you call when you get forced to become their wifey huh

So, I can imagine this scene only happening when Stockholm Syndrome kicks in hard lol Maybe Leona being the bastard that he is had you kidnapped and tucked in nicely inside his home like the pretty little mate he always imagined you to be for some time now. Days, weeks, month, years— You don’t know how long you’ve been trapped in this place, but all you knew is that it’s long enough for you to slowly call this place home.

…You have a faint memory of resisting as hard as you can for the first time, kicking and punching away your captor until you get tired. You wouldn’t let Leona touch you at that time, but the guy never listens to you in the first place and gets overpowered by him in the end. You tried escaping once, but proved to be futile when you realized how no one even gives a shit about what Leona does to you each day— Thinking about it now, you realized why that is, considering you were the second prince’s chosen mate after all, only the bravest soul could only dare to touch you at this point. You tried hard to keep that fire in you for as long as you can but— every touch, every bite, and every punishment you received with the sole intention of changing your everything for Leona had quickly diminished your will.

—And it paid off, because now…You don’t even remember why you were that resistant in the first place.

What’s so bad about being trapped in a palace where you literally can be given anything you want? What’s so bad about becoming the second prince’s beloved wife? Other woman would kill to be in your place, so what was your problem? Sure, being a part of a royal family demands a lot from you, always dictating how you should and shouldn’t act, what you should and shouldn’t do as the prince’s wife—but regardless, you were still well-loved, weren’t you? Doesn’t it feel good when someone can do this much for you? To have someone constantly showing you affection through bone-crushing hugs, forceful kisses, and bites that rips through your flesh?

Yes, it felt good, you were just too prideful to admit it back then…That must be it. You felt stupid every time you thought about yourself behaving the way you did.

Now that you’re more complacent, behaved, and accepting…Leona, too had become way gentler than how he was before. Instead of abusing your skin, he now kisses every single bruise away, and instead of forcefully spreading your legs open, he embraces you to make yourself comfortable on doing the action yourself. To think of how much you were crying on the first time he teared your hymen open for the first time, now turned out to be something you grew to love after a few more times of the same thing happening to you…It wasn’t that bad.

Even now as the man you can finally call your husband grips your thighs and buries his cock deeper inside you within every thrust, you can finally say how good it felt without a tinge of humiliation. With your legs wrapped around his waist and clinging on his toned chest for dear life, you moaned blissfully as another surge of orgasm escaped you. However, battered your body feels, or how light-headed you feel, you knew well that your everything craves for more— and Leona hasn’t even cum yet, what kind of wife would you be if you can’t even give your husband the pleasure that he deserves? It’s his birthday too, so you have to try harder than usual. So, wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer to give him a better angle, just enough for him to thrust his massive cock onto a place he had never been before.

Leona himself couldn’t help but be amused of your actions, gripping your jaw and raising his eyebrow in a teasing manner. “…So, when did you get so assertive, huh?” He said, chuckling as you kept on moaning at every thrust. “You were so cute and shy back then, now you’re actively sucking in my cock like you don’t ever want to let go of it.”

You gulped. “…B-Because— It feels good…I-I want more…!” You muttered in between moans, before reaching out and cupping his cheeks closer to you. Leona blinked as you give him a wide smile, the large blush spread across your cheeks just quickly sums your state of mind perfectly. “Especially…If it’s you…I-I…”

“…I love you…”

Leona somehow slowed down at that, widening his eyes slightly at what you said. For all these years, he was used to hearing you cursed at him constantly at whatever he does, your lovesick eyes used to be so full of hatred, you know? Even when you started to break from the pressure, the best that he could get from you was your uncontrollable cries, one that shoots a pang of guilt in his heart…But hearing you say something completely different from what he was expecting this time— It felt nice on the inside, if he’s being honest. “…Heh.” He smirked, leaning closed to your heated face until his forehead was touching against yours, chuckling as you playfully closed your eyes. “You know what—“

“…I like you better now, you’re so much cuter like this.” He said, as he wrapped his lips around yours, in which you gladly returned. His tongue danced with yours, exploring your cavern and you let him in unconditionally, trailing saliva down your jaw. “I love you too, herbivore.”

“I’ll make sure for you to never forget that.”

Aight, I know it’s not the time to say “ey darlings im back uwu” lol but Ey Darlings~♥︎ I’m back, (UwU) Just finished contemplating on some shit—

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #leona kingscholar #yandere leona kingscholar #Birthday Crumbs (Leona)#tw: stockholm syndrome

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minamotoz · 2 years

Text

next class thoughts as i rewatch season 1

• #bootycall is an atrocious series opener im sorry

• everyone acting like zig playing guitar is the weirdest thing in the world is so ???? maybe if they listened to 'be my someone' by whisperhug they would understand

• tristan trying to market himself as degrassis first gay student council president makes me want to cry. HOW DARE YOU STAND WHERE MARCO ONCE STOOD

• miles hollingsworth is a gift to mankind

• this whole storyline where shay and lola become concerned with frankies mental health bc she got highlights is hilarious

• "you dyed your hair...we thought you might....kill youself." brilliant writing

• i hate jonah but frankie crying and venting to him while hes like 'ok😐 idc😐 can you get out 😐' IS SO FUNNY

• miles going on this fake deep 'NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS IF THEY ARENT POSITIVE' rant ...king of mental health awareness

• love how the rubber room kids are suddenly allowed in normal classes and are the cool kids after being portrayed as delinquents for two whole seasons... and how the rubber room has ceased to exist just like the gifted program

• "THEY GIF-ED ME"

• esme song and hunter hollingsworth my unhinged beloveds

• "mood killer" "im about to be a serial killer" i like grace sometimes

• maya 'horny on main' matlin

• i love my girl maya but her dunking that assholes phone in a drink was not the serve she thought it was

• miles and esme are such obnoxious assholes and i love it

• whisperhug reference? in MY degrassi next class??????

• this season is so fun but absolutely terrible for anyone coming into the show blind, almost all of the characters come off as insanely unlikeable

(more under the cut)

• everytime lolas family restaurant shows up i just think of "wait, if all the food here is mexican, what makes this place argentinian?" "me, obviously"

• god the maya feminism plotline is SOOO on the nose

• me listening to not okay: damn i wish i was listening to black or white right now

• damn tiny moves FAST

• winston my bestie you deserved way more screen-time

• i think people who hate esme just hate fun but thats just my opinion

• zig and tiny being mens rights activists im crying..... tiny i will save u...... zig you can die

• lolas masturbation plotline is so fun especially in comparison to the bleakness of miles drug addiction plot and the on the nose-ness of mayas feminism plot

• zig being personally offended that maya identifies as a feminist is SO funny im sorry

• i know i just said that miles' drug storyline is bleak as shit but him being high out of his mind and chanting 'LETS GO HUNTER' is so funny

• miles and esme popping pills in class theyre literally insane... this show is so camp

• im sorry i love the freaky little gamers so much

• love how hunter uses the word 'populars' in place of 'normie' because the degrassi writers were too afraid of actually writing hunter as a 4channer

• goldi is written as such a strawman im so sorry queen.....,

• hunter making some good points immediately followed up by him being insanely racist is so fucking funny

• im a zasha stan but oh my god the way they murdered gracevas in one singular episode is insulting

• "AM I HOTTER THAN JONAH? BE HONEST" never stop being zig novak, zig novak

• speaking of which have i mentioned how insufferable jonah is because god he sucks

• "youre not welcome here" "ooooh role reversal, fun!" ESME SONG I AM OBSESSED WITH YOU

• eric osborne was eating up every other mf in that cast

• as someone who really liked the zoë/zig dynamic in TNG, the whole 'having sex to get back at grace/maya' thing makes me want to die fr

• esme pulling the 'YOUR LIFE IS SHIT AND YOURE NOTHING WITHOUT ME' shit when miles tells her he wants to recover from his addiction... shes so manipulative but i cant hate her

• THE CHLAMYDIA EPISODE

• baaz vijay and yael i can fix u!!!!! i will save you from the grasp of hunter hollingsworth i prommy

• frankston is actually really cute this season if only frankie wasnt obsessed with JONAH

• the look of the school is so bizarre bc its the same building but everything looks so WEIRD its so uncanny valley

• ok, rape and death threats on twitter i can believe, but mayas address being leaked on REDDIT??????? im literally never getting over this its so funny. just make a fake kiwifarms if you wanted to make a plot about online harassment and doxing like KF existed in 2016

• miles hollingsworths back must HURT from carrying the shit out of this season

• "YOURE GOING TO DIE" i know i shouldnt think this but this storyline is so funny

• jankie is a pathetic excuse for enemies to lovers like holy shit

• i really wish we got to see a smidge of the gamers friendship dynamic this season though bc the way theyre written it just feels like the other 3 are clinging to hunter bc they have no one else while hunter gets them to help with his dumb revenge scheme. idk i wish their friend group in general was more fleshed out and less hunter-centric bc baaz yael and vijay just feel like non characters

• have i mentioned how much i love esme like omg shes such a piece of shit and its amazing

• that short little scene where hunter and baaz are tweeting more gross shit at maya and baaz is like 'ADD HASHTAG JUST SAYING' oh my god this is hilarious

• MAYA PLAY DIFFERENT SONGS CHALLENGE

• once again i love baaz yael and vijay they r so spoingy goingy <3 i love hunter but he can choke

• WINSTON MY BABY YOU DESERVE SO MUCH BETTER

• none of the gamer kids are threatening because theyre all like 15 lmaoooo

• winston and miles are actually boyfriends i cant believe this

• zig novak i hope you die

• noooooo hunter dont do it dont pull a rick murray nooooooooooooo definitely dont shoot zig nooo

• comparing the lockdown in #sorrynotsorry to the lockdown in all falls down is like night and day lmao

• "he was there. he was easy" "what do you mean easy?" she means zig novak is a whore maya

• miles and hunter :( :( :( :(

• tears, zig? didn't expect to s-[GUNSHOT]

• baaz x shay is my new favorite crack ship

• spencer macpherson and eric osborne kings of acting yassss

• wrapup thoughts: this season is so camp tbh. like it sucks a lot and i hate that this is what people think of when NC is brought up because NC 3 and 4 are really really good and dont get the attention they deserve bc NC1 and 2 are so bad but its still a fun season! miles esme and hunter are always extremely fun to watch, but the excessive screentime given to zig, maya (i love her but none of the storylines shes given do her justice), tristan, frankie and jonah makes it a lot worse. anyways im gonna go rewatch season 10 for the 10000th time

#degrassi #degrassi next class #long post #if anyone reads the entire thing you are a saint thank u for listening to my insane ramblings

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starconsumer444 · 3 years

Text

Anniversary (18+)

Kenma x Male!Reader

A/N: Turns out that hiatus isn't permanent, so I'm back with my really shitty writing! I'll start taking requests again too (but I'm going to be slow at doing them and I probably won't get to all of them lol) <3

(CW/TW: Top!Reader, Dom!Reader, Sadist!Reader, Kidnapper!Reader, The reader is literally evil personified ;P, Kidnapping, Spit, RAPE/NONCON, FORCED FEMINIZATION [Kenma gets referred to as princess and his asshole is referred to as a cunt, needless to say... he doesn't like it], Blood [it's a nosebleed], hitting, crying, a lot of bad things??? disassociation??? this is... yeah... I tried...)

“I don’t want to hurt you.” That’s what you say, but Kenma can still feel the dull ache in his nose. “You’re too beautiful to hurt, you know?” You coo, lifting his chin with your index, forcing his eyes to meet yours. They’re puffy, red, and filled with hate. You smile and Kenmas stomach is in knots. His mind is telling him to run, but there’s nowhere to go, is there?

Trying to run is the reason blood is flowing so freely from his nose, down his chin, and on to the white dress you forced him into this morning. The bow around the dress— it’s pulled too tight. He’s undone the knot three times today, but every time you come and pull it back around his waist somehow tighter than the last time every...single...fucking...time.

Tears start to well up in his eyes again and when the first one starts to fall you let him drop his head. He’ll be past all this crying soon, he just has to get used to it or you’ll beat it out of him; whichever comes first.

He curls into himself, smearing blood and tears all into the skirt of the dress that surrounds him.

Beautiful, you think.

“I hate you.” It’s small, it’s quiet, it’s weak, it’s not worthy of a response— not yet— at least. You ignore it. You’ll let him have that one.

You're merciful enough to let him cry on the floor between your legs as you flip through channels on the couch. You’re looking for something specific, something that will really help commemorate this as your one month anniversary.

Needless to say, you find it, right on time.

He lifts up suddenly, as if controlled by strings like a puppet, wiping tears from his eyes and turning to face the tv. He hears her voice and tears won't stop falling. They can’t stop falling when he sees his distraught mother on television crying about her son who’s been missing for a month. They can’t stop falling when he sees all his fans with candles holding prayer circles and praying for his safe return. They can’t stop falling when he sees his old friend, Kuroo, holding his shattered mother in a tight hug.

None of the words from the news broadcast register. He just sees people crying and holding each other. He sees candles lit for him. He sees flyers of his missing face being handed out. Then it’s over as quickly as it started, with the reporter coming back into frame and passing it off to one of her coworkers.

He turns to you with a new type of rage boiling inside of him and surfacing on his face. He’s up on his knees, perfectly manicured hands grasping at the fabric covering your thighs, brows furrowed, and finally looking you in the eye of his own volition. It’s the first time in a while it looks like he’s really seeing you.

What is he going to do?, You wonder.

“You know better than to hit me, don’t you?”

Surely he knows what will happen, he’s tried it several times since you’ve had him and not once has it ended positively for him.

His hands are gripping the fabric of your sweats, twisting at it with a certain fury that tells you he wants to hurt you. He does this a lot— it’s as if he has to muster up the courage to carry out such a fruitless action.

His body feels like he’s in a burning house. He can’t take this mocking. He can’t take this abuse. He can’t do it anymore. You’re watching him burn and not letting him leave or even trying to put the fire out. He wants to go home. He wants to hug his mom and tell her he’s alright. He’s tired of this.

“Please, let me call her.” He talks with a tight jaw, anger seething through clenched teeth. His head falls with his tears wetting his hands and your sweatpants. “Please let me call her. I want to go home so bad. Please.”

“No.”

And that’s all it takes.

“I fucking hate you!” and before he can even think to hurt you, he’s already down. All it takes is one good slap to the face and he’s back to his senses. His hands free the fabric he was holding on to for dear life.

He knows where he’s at. He knows he can’t win.

He lays arms crossed in your lap, sobbing. His body is wracked with shivers periodically as you stroke his hair.

“Pretty girls don’t act like this, you know.”

I’m not a girl, He thinks to himself. He’s far too gone to assert himself in any way right now.

“It’s okay to hate me. I still love you even if you do hate me.”

Kenma can’t stand that softness in your voice. You’re too good at playing the good guy. Anyone who wasn’t in his position would be inclined to fall for your fake prince charming bullshit. Is that how a psychopath like you gets by? You pretend to be soft spoken and harmless then hurt people when no one else can see you.

“You’re sick.”

“I know, it’s okay.”

You let him cry like that for ten minutes. You let him curse you under his breath (where he should keep it if he doesn’t like getting hurt), you let him get it all out. He even quietly begs for his mom and you can’t help but to think about how cute he is.

You pull him up by the back of his hair. Kenmas only got more beautiful since he’s been with you; you didn’t think it was possible. With drying blood and tears everywhere he’s mesmerizing. Even with your hands locked in his hair, this feels too good to be real.

He’s not looking at you, his eyes are unfocused, it’s more like he’s looking through you. Despite that, you pull him in for a kiss, blood and tears still fresh on his face. Of course, he doesn’t kiss back, but for once he doesn’t resist. It’s a small victory.

Now there's a growing tent under the surface of your sweats.

You let him go and pat the wide space on the couch beside you, “Get up here.”

Kenma shakes his head and backs away from you.

“Please let me go.” He pushes his body further away the moment you stand to tower over him. Then he’s turning and slipping on the skirt of the dress in his panicked rush to get away from you. He knows what’s going to happen and he wants no part in it.

You lift him with ease and slam him down onto the couch. Not once does he stop fighting you. He’s yelling for help and for you to stop. He’s kicking and screaming, begging like you’re going to kill him. Doesn’t he know that no one can hear him? It’s been a month and he hasn't figured out that much? If he’s that dumb, maybe he does really need you...

Still, it’s annoying and leaves you with no choice but to wrap your hand around his small throat. He kicks you in the stomach and your only response is to squeeze harder.

The fear sets in right then and there for Kenma. He stops his flailing and looks up to you with apologetic eyes. He doesn’t want to pass out, you choked him like this when he first got here. He can’t do it again— he doesn’t want to.

His hands come up to gently hold your wrists and his eyes become more apologetic with the increased pressure.

“Are you gonna calm down or do I have to calm you down myself?”

Kenmas body goes rigid for a second, but then he realizes he has to respond. He nods. His heart feels like it might beat out of his ribcage, but he has no choice but to force himself to stay calm.

Slowly, you release your grasp on his neck and flip up his dress to reveal his clean shaven legs and white lace panties (that do little to cover his private area). Your hand strokes down the soft skin of his thigh and you can feel him tense up, “Calm down princess. You wanna make me feel good, right?”

Kenma shakes his head and recoils expecting to be hit for his honesty.

You just chuckle as he slowly realizes you’re not going to hurt him for that and settles into himself. “Cute.” You say.

“Please…” The blonde mutters out.

“Please what?”

His throat hurts and his voice is shaky, “Don’t make me do this. I can’t do this again.” It sounds like he’s about to start crying again.

It’s been a month since you did this the first time and it’s been six days since the last time.

Kenma sees that you’re lost in thought and takes it upon himself to sit up as carefully as possible so that you don’t hit him. “Let me…” He trails off slipping his soft hand under the waistbands of both your sweatpants and underwear.

His strokes are graceless. He’s shaky, unsure, and clearly has no idea how to go about this. He only feels you getting harder in his hand as he looks you in the eye’s trying to find any sign of mercy.

You smile, “You’re such a good girl, huh?”

Kenma forces himself to smile back, but his fear is more obvious. “Yeah, Imma good girl.” He nods aggressively. If it means he has any chance of getting out of this, he’ll comply without a second thought. Dignity doesn’t matter when he’s here, he’s come to understand.

He plants soft kisses up your neck and across your jaw, and still his hand never stops. He’s so precious when he’s absolutely terrified.

“Use your spit.”

Immediately he pulls his hand away from you, spits in it, and goes right back to jerking your length. He’s so bad at it, it hardly feels good.

You titter at how anxious he seems and he jumps at the sound.

“Princess…” You start, and he hums in response. “I’m still going to fuck you, you know that, right?”

His hand withdraws straight away, “Please, no.” His head rests against your chest as he pleads for mercy. “I can’t take it. I don’t like it.”

“It’s okay, you’ll learn to like it.” You feel him shake his head. “Now, lay down.” He goes without protest.

Kenma’s far away from this by now. In his head, he’s anywhere but here. Still, he feels everything happening to him and hears everything going on around him. He doesn’t miss the sensation of you sliding off those lace panties or miss your hands on his hips turning him over to lay on his stomach. He can feel your tongue gliding over his hole, but he can’t react to it. He doesn’t squirm like he usually would— just takes whatever you’re doing to him.

The first noise Kenma makes is when you slide a single spit soaked finger into him. He’ll never get used to that sensation, and it grounds him every time. You can hear him sniffle and whine just as you thought he had run out of tears or at least had given up crying for the night.

Your finger drags against the special bundle of nerves and his body convulses and he lets out a yelp, that’s when you think it’s time to put in two fingers.

Your assault on his prostate continues and he cums, but he doesn’t seem to register it all that much. His senses are clearly a bit dulled by some sort of trauma defense mechanism his brain has. It doesn’t matter to you, though. You pull your fingers out of him and lube up your length with spit before pressing into his hole.

That gets a reaction, an intense one. He’s yelling, his words are slurred, and he’s pushing back at your waist, using his hand to try to get you to get out of him. His face looks mortified, like he didn’t know this was going to happen.

You simply grab his arm and pin it behind his back. No matter how hard he fights against you, he’ll never win and will always give up.

He’s so tight, and he’s spasming around you trying to adjust.

“Ahhh- your cunt’s so perfect, just for me, huh?” You moan out.

“No! No! No!” His voice is hoarse, he’s yelling and kicking his legs. You just press your weight onto him more.

When you start to thrust, he starts to say sorry and calm down. He’s sure he did something wrong but he just doesn’t know what. He’s sure that if he apologizes this will all be over, like some horrific nightmare.

His complaints are drowned out by your moans; it's been that way every time you’ve done this.

“Fuck, baby,” You moan breathily into his ear. “You’re so tight. You were made for this.” Kenmas head falls into the wet couch cushion. “I love you so much.”

Kenma cums again, and he must feel it this time judging by the pained moan he lets out. His body jerks with the harshness of your thrusts. There’s a mixture of sounds but the most apparent are moans and the sound of skin meeting skin.

You let go of his arm opting to pull him up by his hair, when you do, he’s back to his dazed apologizing. He seems so broken, it's exhilarating. Your “I love you.” is only met with another bland “I’m sorry.” it's clear he won't remember most of this.

When you cum inside him, there’s no reaction from him. You get up, leave him limp on the couch and go take a shower. When you come back, he’s just like you left him, still breathing, but generally unresponsive. He’s a great wife.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu smut #dark haikyuu #kenma smut #kenma x male reader #top male reader #tw: noncon #I need to get better at tagging.... one day #not today tho lol #sexy people don't know how to tag: fact

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Text

Tales of The Ghost Writer

“You met Xingqiu at Wanwen Bookhouse when delivering a batch of your newly-published book. But as a ghost writer, no one knew it was you that authored such books. Safe to say it was cute watching the noble bookworm fanboy about you in front of you.”

Pairings -> Xingqiu x Author!Reader

Word Count -> 3518

Theme -> Long Fic, Fluff

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> Xingqiu's name might be mispelled at times, also he rambles a lot

Entry Log # 645:

I’ve once again delivered the new batch of books to Wanwen Bookhouse today at 4PM, 30 new books in collection to be sold. That would add up to a total of 420 published books for Legend of the Lone Sword. Despite its old circulation, collectors and avid bookworms still seek out the volumes. In a spur of the moment thought, the 4th volume was finally rereleased for more readers to get a chance to read them. While on my rounds, I’ve met a particularly peculiar fan.

“4th volume?” You nod as you set down the stack of books on the counter where Jifang stood behind with a welcoming smile. “Thank you, everyone has been asking about it for a while now. I don’t understand how people keep missing out on the last volume like so.” There was an exchange of giggles between you continued your idle chatter, busying yourself with recounting the stack to make sure the order placed was exact. Yep, 30.

You picked one up from the top pile as Jifang enters the bookhouse to gather the payment. It wasn't that much of a feat to carry a pile of 30 books when it's only this thick, you thought as you opened the book in the middle and... buried your nose in it, literally. Archons, the scent of freshly printed books had always been such a stress reliever of a kind. The imprints were still fresh as you run your thumb over the pristine white page of page 75, the gravings of the letter bumping it in such an intricate and endearing manner. You suppose it should be prime time you get a copy of your own-

"Ah, the glorious scent fresh books offer are quite irresistible to everyone," your head whipped to the side in a hurry at the embarrassing display. Yet your new company only offered a light-hearted laugh, floaty and flowing swiftly past his lips. You find it enjoyable to listen to. "Fret not, I don't judge such honest guilty pleasure."

His smile was soft and respectful as you return it, watching his hand (wrists largely ruffled) pick up the next book on the pile, his interest shining the more he recognizes the the piece of literature. Such expensive clothing and poise, you thought as you continued to inspect. "I knew Wanwen had a schedule of new releases today, but I was not informed it would be the 4th volume of the Legend of the Lone Sword!"

"A fan?" You mused as you placed back the copy you took, leaning against the counter as you watched him quickly scan the lines of the book. He was intensely staring at every word with such a calculating gaze, that sometimes break when he reads how the character would sometimes reach an impasse, or when a new discovery reaches its peak. His ardent gaze was enough of an answer. When he took a break from reading to pass you his attention, you hadn't realize how red your cheeks had been out of embarrassment. "I've always wanted to get my hands on my own copy of the 4th, yet everytime all bookhouses in Liyue keep running out of stock. Is delivery normally this scarce?" He'd gestured at the not so looming pile.

You nod in response with a forgoing giggle. "Publishing could be running into some... shortness of funds?" Subtle, yet he hums in disappointment at the thought. His little pout, adorable, as he buries his face in the book again. I would gladly fund such glorious writing, you thought you heard past the leather back before the ornate doors past the counter finally opened again.

"Ah sorry it took so long, I couldn't find the exact pouch for the- hey! You again, you've read and been scolded dozens of times already," the woman angrily gestures to the notice board by the table, "Pay first, read later!"

You snorted, thankfully masked by the sudden cry of the caught culprit as he was smacked (hopefully gently) on the head by the owner, forcing him to put back the book to the pile. "Hnghh, but Lady Jifang! You didn't scold her, she was indulging herself with the book just the same," you breathed a fake gasp of astounded betrayal, before you three had laughed in chorus.

The oldest of your trio scoffed in amusement as she placed the bag of Mora unto your waiting hand. "What, her? Why would I scold her, she probably knows every word like the back of her ha-" her rambling was then cut off by a loud smack on her bottom, a book expertly finding its way back to your hand with a perfectly cut smile. Her yelp was not unnoticed by the male as he laughs at the display.

"Let him be, he's really been patiently waiting for the release!" Jifang scoffs at the word patiently as you came to the defense of blunette. You were never really aware of the norm in Wanwen, as you usually come by at a time where you would have been alone. This was a first.

"Quite so! Just the start of the volume had me hooked, setting for the peak of the story climax! The synopsis itself already hinted of another inclusion of a new element into the story I had not expected from this style of a book, surely such a writer would not tread such parallel territory without being an expert teller-" Jifang watched in amusement as her gaze lands on you at the start of the bookworm's rambling, watching the redness touch the tip of your ear with an abashed smile shyly gracing your lips. Behind it she can see the mirth and amusement, something she outwardly shows with her own expression.

"Wow," was the Liyuean woman's only response once the speaker has finished his lengthy speech. His dorkiness stands with pride at his examination.

You cleared your throat before you could mutter your initial words, finally realizing the time. "That was... quite marvelous of an analysis. A-Anywaysss, thank you for your partnership, I hope the books are all sold by tomorrow!"

And with that you swiftly made your exit, wanting to find a place to scream the embarrassment out. Or maybe squeal, just to be subtle.

Entry Log # 15:

As a distant relative to the Guhua clan, the (L/N) clan was not exactly known to be tied closely to the prestigious clan known for their expert martial. However, despite the impure connection, they carry with them still the honor of learning the arts to a meticulous detail.

Your family was one of the living practitioners of the Guhua Arts, twice removed, yet your spotlight was not that obvious as the name would carry. Your father wish to carry a new kind of prestige without relying on the powerful namesake and he had been adamant since birth to grind every teaching and form of the art into his immediate family.

"Misogyny nor feminism will not save you from battle, only your own strength." Something along those lines, was what he said.

Your eldest brother was his main point of reference when scolding you on not taking your lessons properly. A slacker he is, now he lacks not only a means of security but also financial stability, that's what you end up to if you don't treasure the arts of our family. You have no idea how martial arts brings you monetary security, but you can't really state to your own father that his logic was a bit skewed.

Daily during morning and the first touch of evening, you had resigned yourself into training under your father's supervision. As the eldest daughter of the house, you carry with you still a responsibility to be strong. No fraility was accepted, and your mother always argues about your father's ever so masculine lifestyle being imposed on you, a lady that should be taught other customs for means of living.

Yet after every session, at the end of the day under the caress of the lamp by your study table, your hands move with precision and calmness he would have scoffed at in the dojo. The beauty of words and their power to create new worlds effortlessly had drawn you in too easily, ever since you were young you had a knack for the books your mother reads to herself or to you.

Entry Log # 651:

The next time you'd met the Wanwen Bookworm (nickname you gave) was a rare moment when he'd finally looked at you more than the book in his hand. It seemed your little interaction from the bookhouse was attention-grabbing enough to make him seek out your person with a bunch of questions and wonder.

You gulped, patting down your blue skirt before accompanying him. The way he rambles was too dangerous, it was drawing something within you to also do the same, and you feared you may let out something you shouldn't. But a fellow 'reader' is good company, and with the little interactions you had with the same age group with the same interest makes this moment something you can't pass.

"Carrier to the Yae Publishing House?" You nodded calculatedly, after confirming you've said just the right information. "Quite intriguing, especially with such young age to be working in line with the greatest press house in Teyvat." Ohhh, he's surely smart despite the first impression of goofiness.

You giggled as politely as you can remember you should upon the scarce teachings of your mother. "I've always liked literature so I couldn't uhm let the opportunity pass, even if it's insignificant like that." Good, good, piling up the lies. You're grateful you haven't made some contract of friendship and happen upon the wrath of your nation's God. Or Qixing.

"Surely, you must have been in the presence of some of the wordsmiths during your rendezvous! So tell me," there was a dangerous glint in his eyes and you knew exactly what he's gonna ask, "Have you met the legendary Bob Ong?"

Oh goodness, you felt him caress and pat your back as you tried your best to breathe after the sudden choking on nothing, he was so spot on that you were horrified even if you had an inkling of what he was gonna inquire. "I uhm I don't really know what I'm allowed to say." In the inside you were goddamn screaming.

"You don't have to tell me anything about him, really! It's his mystery that makes his character just the most intriguing." You gulped down hard, this time without choking out of nothing. "I don't really know much about who he is since he's, you know, unknown? No clues whatsoever, he could be anywhere right now, maybe you've talked to him already or no. Yeah?"

He held a convincing hum before taking in the cryptic answer, content, for now you assume. "Not many avid readers of the book can place a name to the unnamed author, but how blind they were to see the cryptic signature at the back of the cover. Truly a wonderous act." Xingqiu, you finally learned his name, had took you out to lunch for the trouble and enjoyment. It wasn't really necessary, but you figured it was probably to keep you with him longer to converse about the books more.

A lot of his... analysis actually coincide with the messages that you lodged between the lines. He understands your way of narration more than you do at times, and you were left wondering just how much he had read of the fourth volume despite only having it for a few days then. When evening once again struck, you had bid each other farewell in the promise of another time to hang.

"It's a literature of love and freedom- disguised as a martial arts novel." Was his parting analysis, and you were left to wonder, was that really what you had projected into your works?

Entry Log # 32:

In your young and hopeful mind, you'd sent your first ever manuscript to Yae Publishing House. It wasn't your first work but it was the one you worked hard on the most, with weeks of furbishing and reworks. Your mother, although not directly informed of your whole plan, had provided you with great feedback and generous suggestions. And soon you created the first manuscript of 'String of Pearls'.

With a generous note and what you hoped is enough mora to at least publish a book, your package was sent to Inazuma.

You waited for days, of which turned to weeks, and then to months. You thought by the end of it all, you had been swindled but as young as you still hoped for the best of its outcome.

And then one day, as you were sweeping the outside of your gates in preparation for your father's return from some business in the harbor, a lone man of Inazuman style found its way to your humble abode. He calls himself Mr. Nine, and in his arms cradled two similar looking books, with a familiar envelope.

That was when you had been given the opportunity to write for the greatest Publishing House under the guise of a pseudonym. The great Nine was astounded by your ripeness paired with your prowess in writing. You hid behind Bob Ong, a protection from being belittled as a young child and a woman, to prevent being traced by your father if ever.

Yet you remained as subtle still. Even if your name was not written on the covers themselves, within your heart you were still the writers of those books. You've placed anagrams and mysterious puzzles revealing your name but it was part of the intrigue of the story that they had not thought much about it.

One day, you lost your book when you had gone out to eat. It was the second copy, as you carried the first one in your room, yet it still held a special place in your heart.

Xingqiu was a master novelist too, as you'd expect from someone so enthusiastic on the art of literature too. You'd long since become friends and found out soon enough his true identity. The heir to the Feiyun Commerce Guild, master practitioner of the Guhua Clan Arts, soon to be novelist. He was in every aspect the better half between you two.

One day in his daily reading breaks where he would happen upon you, he had found his eyes wafting over your notebook that you always carry. It was designed to look like a hard bound book specially tailored to your tastes, but it was nothing but mere keepers of your notes and musings.

Your newest page had in it a brand new draft for a brand new story you wanted to flesh out before the success of Legend of the Lone Sword diminishes. Mr. Nine still praised you for the success of your first major publishing and had assured you that there's no need to immediately compensate with another work so early, but your mind was already so eager to work. Your friend had never seen you so- flamed and passionate as the paper caves to the intense pressure your pencil places on it.

So he leans on your shoulder slightly (glad you were still distracted) as he quietly reads the words that articulates on the paper. The more Xingqiu reads, the more he craves, just the same vigor he felt everytime he had read his favorite works when each chapter invigorates him to continue to the end.

"Such a great outline," the blunette breathes out as he leans his cheek at the crown of your head. You let out a cute squeak when you'd finally come to, and turned your head to face him- "I didn't know you were into romance, my liege. Tell me, just where do you get such inspirations?" Your nose softly collided against the smoothness of his cheek, your lips ghosting over the line that is his jaw.

You scrambled backwards to direction opposite of his, yet with his body weight leaning on you, his center of balance quickly shifted on your weight like a net being pulled against the sides of a boat. You both toppled over.

"My, my, I didn't expect such abrupt resistance from you," Xingqiu's arms caged you as it holds him up against the grassland on either side of you. There was a certain mischievous glint in the ocean that is his eyes, which only meant one thing. "No need to be shy," you closed your eyes shut as his face leans in closer to yours, fanning over the frame of your face as he lets out a warm yet teasing exhale, "I'm sure we've gone past our personal bubbles in this relationship." You felt his chest against yours and braced for the inevitable-

as he finally licked your nose(?).

What.

"X-XINGQIUUUUU!" And then a cry of pain after a particularly harmful blow.

Entry Log # 659:

Xingqiu had always been a man of great words despite his chicken scratch of a penmanship. Vivid tales of his manuscript that I'm sure the Publishing House would take great value for, his years of memorizing numerous works in his arsenal. He told me that if I were to one day publish the manuscript, he wants to get the first copy and the first to get it signed. However Xingqiu has one glaring weakness when it comes to the art of words. When I asked him what would be a good title for the manuscript I made, he simply said, "Tales of the Writer!" And he sent a goofy smile. I thought he was joking, and I asked again, this time of what his work would be named. He replied:

"Why, Legend of Sword, of course!" He really sucks at titles.

Entry Log # 660:

Upon returning home with my new work ready to be shipped off for mass publishing, I've finally confronted my father. I had with me the final volume of my first work and offered it to him as first a gift of reconciliation, and my father took it with a mirthful glint in his eyes. He said he has been looking for the last volume of the series he'd been wanting to complete. I... I didn't know father was a fan.

The climax of my entire double-life ended so peacefully and tragically meh. I was expecting a martial arts fight of honor that will go down in history, but instead I ended up signing my own book as my father gushed about how nicely I illustrated the martial arts teaching we had during our sessions. I did not sleep well that night.

October 9th was a day celebrated by others more than the young master Xingqiu. The pavilion was mixed in with people from different walks of life and of faces he doesn't necessarily recognize. He lingers by the open window that shows the grandeur balcony, beckoning him outside. Today was a scheduled new release for Wanwen Bookhouse, and he had heard several chatters from the citizens that a new series would be published hailing from Yae Publishing House once again.

And the virtuoso of literature cannot attend such important matter himself because of his own birthday. How irking, you weren't even there to help appease his grumbling, you should have been here by now upon his invitation.

Suddenly the master of invitations bellowed out a familiar name, as his job to announce the entrance of the invited guests to the banquet. When he looks up, you were already walking down the grand staircase in your creme and blue Hanfu garb, accompanied by a tall man of a different wear—

"(Y/N), M-Mr. Nine-!" He bowed politely to the man as you curtsied at his presence. You looked absolutely dashing yet the man towered your form easily. "It's my honor to finally meet you, sire."

"Happy birthday, Xingqiu, I've heard many great things about you," the blunette opened his hands to receive the book gifted by the man. It had a familiar cover and title to it, Legend of Sword, "Great things, in fact, that there would too be great things to discuss later on." The Inazuman graced him a smile and he almost teared up at the implications, if not for when the author suddenly nudged you forward from your demure state.

Tales of the Ghost Writer

"X-Xingqiu, happy birthday! This is uhm, I've always wanted to- I wanted to give you this myself, I know you'd miss the first batch of releases," an unfamiliar book sits on his palm now. A plume and sword adorning its cover but no title, he shifts his hand to open it to the first page, "You said you wanted its first copy be signed, and I thought it appropriate to be given now at such a special occasion."

There in fresh print and ink he'd finally been revealed the mysteries he had long been searching for.

Against the translucent paper it was written and signed,

Tales of The Ghost Writer

Bob Ong, (Y/N)

@creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @boxofteenageideas @indigodreamtime47

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n1kolaiz · 3 years

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"You want to know what death is? I'll tell you. Death is the loss of life. Despite everything doctors like me attempt... a patient's life can still fall through our fingers. You think death lies in the apex of science? Anyone with such little regard for life will die by my hand."

Character Analysis: Yosano Akiko

Age: 25 || Ability: Thou Shalt Not Die

BSD CHAPTER CHAPTER 65-66 SPOILERS

table of contents:

1. Author counterpart.

2. Yosano's history.

3. 'Angel of Death' defined.

4. Yosano and Atsushi.

YOSANO BRAINROT!*(#&!*@#($

1. Author counterpart.

Having been given the “Sho Ho” at birth, Yosano Akiko’s counterpart—the real-life author—was known for her zealous take on both feminism and pacifism.

Side note: Once again, to avoid confusion, I will use the name Sho Ho in reference to the real-life author, and Yosano in reference to the BSD character.

Sho Ho's writings were pretty much out-of-the-ordinary in her time, and despite being suppressed by the social norms of gender hierarchy, she sought to reform society’s view on the cultural perspectives of women and their sexuality (She expressed her love for a woman in one of her poems, but many still argued on whether she identified herself as queer or not.)

"Thou Shalt Not Die," Yosano's ability, is actually named after one of Sho Ho's most famous, controversial poems. She wrote it for her brother, who was a soldier in the war between Russia and Japan (1904-1905). In her poem, she expressed her general distaste for war and how her brother was a part of it.

O my young brother, I cry for you Don't you understand you must not die! You who were born the last of all Command a special store of parents' love

Would parents place a blade in children's hands

Teaching them to murder other men Teaching them to kill and then to die? Have you so learned and grown to twenty-four?

- excerpt from Sho Ho's poem, "Kimi Shinitamou Koto Nakare"

Her words were blunt enough to inflict guilt on her brother's conscience, as she wasn't afraid to express her disapproval over how her brother took part in the typical violent bloodshed and manslaughter of war. Such opinions perturbed the authorities, and her work was eventually banned from the public for a period of time. Later on, it was used as an anti-war statement.

2. Yosano's history.

Now, as for the character in BSD, Yosano is seen to be generally strong-willed, and later on, we see that she is terrifyingly compassionately ambitious in the way she treats her patients. She treasured life itself, and hated the thought of losing a patient.

Yosano had developed her relations with Mori Ougai back in the Great War, when she was just 11 years old. Her ability was a great benefactor in saving lives. Realistically speaking, she was used for her ability to heal injured soldiers and diminish the effect of any casualty acquired.

Initially, she wasn't aware of this, until one of her close friends pointed it out by subtly accusing Mori of manipulating her to participate in the War under the close-to false pretence of 'saving lives.'

As much as her ability did save lives, it also forced soldiers to return to the frontlines and suffer injuries over and over again. The soldiers were never given the opportunity to return to their families because of her ability. This obliged them to carry on in the war without any excuse, inserting them into a vicious cycle they had no escape out of.

Metaphorically speaking, Yosano's hatred for Mori sort of mirrors Sho Ho's disdain for war and fighting, don't you think? The way Kafka materialised Yosano's past was quite interesting because he used chapters 65 and 66 to explain Yosano's dislike for Mori, reflecting how Sho Ho used her poem to explain why she condemned the idea of war and how her brother was part of it.

Before the effect of her ability was fully understood, however, every soldier praised and thanked her for what an angel she was. One of the soldiers she had befriended and gotten close to even kept a tally of the number of times she had saved him. He was the one who gifted her the butterfly hairpin she wore all the time.

The weight of the truth that her ability was a curse rather than a blessing fully dawned on her when her soldier friend ultimately committed suicide, because the fact of being indefinitely trapped in the throes of war agonised him until his spirit gave out. This drove Yosano to loathe her ability, or rather, how it was used.

In the time she participated in the War, Yosano was given the alias 'angel of death' due to the control she retained over the battlefield, but I thought that perhaps Kafka had a reason behind giving her this title, so I did my research.

3. 'Angel of Death' defined.

Side note: I wouldn't want to disrespect any culture or religion, so if my citations are inaccurate and/or disrespectful, do feel free to correct me/let me know! I did research out of pure curiosity, and I don't intend to twist the significance of any of the interpretations.

I had to grow up learning about the basics of religious stuff, so it's kind of nice to study something out of the box, and very much against my father's rigid belief system :D

ARCHANGEL ARIEL

(archangel: an angel of higher rank)

I came across the few characteristics of angels/goddesses and their roles, and the one which really caught my attention was the female archangel, Ariel, the angel of nature.

[ source ]

In Hebrew, the name Ariel means 'altar' or 'lioness of God,' and her role is to heal. In addition to that, she is also recognised as a helper to another one of the seven main archangels, Raphael, whose role is to provide physical and emotional healing, too.

She is the protecter of the environment and the animals therein, and is bestowed with the duty to oversee the order of heavenly bodies as well as earth's natural resources. She assures the sustenance of food, water, shelter, and supplies of human beings, much like how a nurse is to a patient I suppose.

In relation to Yosano, I think this part is pretty self-explanatory, or perhaps this is blown out of proportion HA, so take this as a suggestion rather than a fact, because I'd like to believe that Kafka had a reason for giving Yosano a title as such.

In the past, I've come across the angel of death only to perceive it as a female grim reaper of some sort, so it was pretty cool to find that the word 'angel' and 'death' made up a title of a someone like Ariel, one of the purest forms of humility and compassion.

GREEK GODDESS PANAKEIA

For my beloved (wannabe/or not) students of Greek mythology (much like myself, let's make a cult!), you've probably heard of Panakeia, the goddess of healing. Medicine finds most of its vital significance in Greek history, and in its mythology, Panakeia is actually known for her ability to heal any kind of sickness.

[ source ]

Her name means 'panacea,' which is actually defined as a remedy for all diseases. Terminal diseases and injuries lead to death, right? This would bring us back to Yosano's ability to nullify any injury's effects on a person, keeping them from death itself.

Now, we know that in order for Yosano's ability to work, her patient, or victim, has to be in a near-death condition in order for her treatment to take effect. This can't exactly fit into the description of resurrection, but it can be described as some sort of rebirth.

GREEK GODDESS PERSEPHONE

So another goddess which reminds me of Sho Ho/Yosano, is Persephone, the goddess of spring and rebirth. Before Hades, the god of the underworld, fell in love with Persephone to take her to live with him, Persephone lived a happy life.

Hades, with his nature of darkness and the like, was captivated by how pure Persephone was, and stole her away from her former life to live in an environment which differed sharply from her natural aura of purity.

[ source ]

Remember when Yosano's friend left a note behind before he killed himself? The note said nothing except for, "You are too righteous." Take that as you will, but figuratively speaking, you could say Mori takes the role of Hades in the story, while Yosano can be portrayed as Persephone.

Sho Ho can also be a parallel of Persephone, in that she had to adapt to the realities of war and disharmony, while Persephone had to adapt to the raw darkness of the underworld with Hades.

Sho Ho stood against society's norms and decided to reform it, making her one of the most well-known feministic pacifist in history, while Persephone managed to escape from the underworld to return to her former position, earning the title the 'Bringer of Life,' or the 'Destroyer of Death.'

Furthermore, the way Sho Ho's anti-war poem took its effect later on, reflects the way Persephone restored balance in the world after returning from the underworld.

4. Yosano and Atsushi.

chapter 66; Yosano: "It's my fault that those close to me died... Is there some place where it's okay for me to live?"

chapter 8; Atsushi: "If I have any chance of saving them all, of returning them home safely, would that mean it's okay for me to keep on living?"

I couldn't help but think of Dazai and Atsushi back when I was reading through these panels. Ranpo (my beloved), along with Fukuzawa, accepted Yosano as she was, despite how her ability was a cause of despair and misfortune.

Ranpo looked past her mistakes and the entirety of how dark her past was to welcome her into the Armed Detective Agency. Dazai, on the other hand, knew who Atsushi was and what his ability had made him do before anyone else, and still decided to provide a safe place for Atsushi to find his sense of belonging, journeying with him as he learned to use his ability properly.

For more info about Dazai and Atsushi's dynamic, you can check out the analysis I did for Dazai :D

Atsushi desired to save people to prove his right to live, while Yosano made her wish to achieve the recovery of all her patients the reason for her existence.

Others would prefer to accuse both Yosano and Atsushi of having a saviour complex, but the reason why they pursued to save people with utmost dedication, stems from the nature of what their past was like. You know the saying 'from broken to beautiful?' Yeah, it's something like that.

The way their pasts were written out gave them a desire to change, which was, I daresay, initiated by the people who took them in: Ranpo and Dazai. Their abilities were demonised because of how they were used, but once they broke from their abilities' effect over their lives, they honed their skills to control them for the right cause instead.

In a less cynical point of view, I believe both Yosano and Atsushi stood for what was right, and wanted nothing but to achieve peace and harmony in whatever way they could, even if it meant risking their own lives to save others.

So yeah, that's it for my rants today. Thank you for reading, and if you have anything to add, go ahead! I'm open to discussions ;)

#bsd #bsd atsushi #bsd yosano #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd characters #bsd analysis #literature analysis #bsd abilities #bsd anime #bsd manga #bungo stray dogs atsushi #bungou stray dogs atsushi #bungou stray dogs yosano #bsd dazai #bsd mori #bsd ranpo #character analysis #.daydreams

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