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jasmines-library · 3 months

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Hi love <3!

I was wondering if you’d feel comfortable with writing something with the bat-family finding out that the reader has like, the abilities to transfer injuries to themselves.

Like, one of them is hurt and reader just rips their gloves off mid mission and drops to their side, transferring the injury to themself. Bonus points if they automatically transfer some psychological trauma as well? And maybe reader avoiding talking about it and stuff, the family finally seeing the countless scars that reader got because of their power.

(This is has been stuck in my head for forever and I’ve never seen anyone write the bat-family as good as you do, so <3)

Heal

Note: I've literally wanted to write something like this for ages! thank you for requesting ❤️ also tumblr was throwing a tantrum and not letting me put the image I wanted as a header so you get a GIF instead :(

Warnings: Blood, Injury, Scars.

Word count: 1.7k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“Robin!”

The scream ripped itself from your throat as you saw him drop to the ground. The crook stood over him, removing the dagger that dripped with crimson red from where he had plunged it into Damians thigh. You practically launched yourself across the street as he fled, dropping to his side. He clutched feebly at the wound, eyes screwed up in pain. Your hand hovered over the wound as he cried out in pain gawping at the open wound. Blood gushed from the deep wound staining the concrete.

“Hold on Robin, you’re gonna be fine.” you told him as you tore off your gloves and discarded them on the ground.

Then, pressing your hand firmly over the wound and wincing at his shout of discomfort, you began to heal the wound. It was a strange sensation that no matter how many times you felt, you never seemed to get used to. The tingling ran up your arms but quickly replaced by an agonising burn as Damian’s wound began to heal on his skin and began to appear beneath your thigh beneath your suit. You bit your lip to hold back the cry as you watched the gaping wound close leaving behind nothing but shiny new skin and another hole in his suit for Alfred to patch up.

Damian pushed himself up onto his forearms to regain his composure when he felt the pain dissipate from his body. Around you, the rest of the vigilantes were still battling the criminals who seemed to be flanking in from every possible angle. You helped him to his feet, asking if he was alright as you pulled on your gloves. He gave you a brief nod of thanks before dashing off with his katana in hand to help his family. You staggered behind him trying to hide the limp that you had developed from the wound. You could already feel it healing; one of the many perks of your abilities, but it still hurt like a bitch. But you pressed forward anyway, gripping your weapon tightly to help with the fight.

You had had much worse. Much much worse. Like that one time that Joker had captured Tim…you took all of his injuries. But the thing is, with injuries come memories. Each cell carries its own story. And every time you take on a wound, you take on some of the trauma that comes with it. It's not your own, but it feels so real. The images play inside your head on loop like a movie often cropping up at the worst times. The worst time was when Jason died. Although when he returned he was physically healed, he was still struggling; scarred by the memories that haunted him. So, when he started recklessly patrolling and you had offered to heal him, you took away as much of it as you could.

Sometimes it was the memories that hurt more than the actual wounds themselves. To see and feel what they had been through broke you completely. The torment that Jason had been through that you had seen was something you couldn’t even muster up the words to describe. You couldn’t imagine what he went through and you would never be able to heal him completely, but you were glad you could help him as much as you could. Glad you could take away any of their pain even if it meant that you had to feel it for them.

They didn’t know this. You had kept it somewhat hidden from them. The vigilantes knew you could heal wounds, but they didn’t know that you took on the injury. And you wanted to keep it that way because you knew that if they found out they would just stop you from doing it and you would be left feeling useless on the sidelines.

Nightwing dropped down beside you, noting your slight limp as you fought against the criminals. They seemed to be thinning out now with the five of you fighting them. They either fled or dropped to the ground like flies.

“You alright?” He asked, swinging a right hook and sending a guy wielding a crowbar. You winced at the sight of it, hit with Jasons memories again.

“Fine.” You grunted out as you blocked another oncomer.

“You sure? You’re favouring your left side.”

God damn you, Grayson.

“Fine. Just took a hit is all but it’ll heal quickly. You know me.”

He eyed you uncertainly. He knew you were lying but he dismissed it. Dick had always had a suspicion that more happened to you than you let on but he had never pressed you to talk about it. Though, he was going to find out much sooner than you had hoped.

You stared at the scab on your thigh in the mirror; it would soon become a new addition to the tapestry of scars that covered your body. It was ragged, torn and an ugly reminder of the blade that stuck out of the young Wayne’s leg. Some of the scars that marred up your smooth skin were yours, though most of them once belonged to the boys.

The scars flecked almost every inch of your body, all varying in size and shape. Some were small and round, others long and jagged and some in between. And though the scars saved your boys, you couldn’t sometimes help but wish that you weren’t left with them. Sometimes, it all became too much. For example when you healed a wound that had been forced upon them in such a brutal way that you would lie awake for hours with your eyes squeezed shut tight as you curled up on your bed waiting for the haunting memories to pass. Although your abilities meant that you healed quicker, sometimes you were still left managing the wound for days as it healed whilst still trying to hide it from the boys. You suffered in silence, often pondering if you should just tell them… but you never did. And it was worth it because seeing them okay put a smile on your face.

You didn’t like to talk much about your abilities and how they worked, no matter how much they pressed you. Everytime the topic was brought up you would go quiet, or quickly change the subject, trying not to let the feelings resurface. You buried them deep to keep your secret.

“You okay, kid?” Jason frowned as you walked into the library, poorly disguising the last of your limp. He was lounging on one of the couches as he delved into one of Bruce’s many hardbacks.

“Yeah I’m fine.” you dismissed, running your finger over the spines as you scanned the shelf for something to read to try and give yourself something to do for a few hours while your leg continued to heal.

“You said that earlier.” Dick poked his head around the door, noting the way you tilted most of your weight onto your left foot as you stood on your toes to grab a book. “Your leg still bothering you?”

“A little, but it’s healing.” You shrugged, taking your book over to the couch and settling beside Jason.

The eldest Wayne frowned, forcing wrinkles onto his forehead. “Shouldn’t a hit have healed by now?”

You cursed mentally. “It was a nasty hit.”

“You know, thinking about it didn’t Damian take a knife to the thigh?” Jason asked.

“Yes.” Damian appeared in the doorway with Tim. “Y/N healed me though.”

“Strange.” Dick noted, tilting his head to look at you. The four of them had had a suspicion for a little while that something was going on. The way you avoided the topic was like having a sign waving above your head.

“... it’s just a coincidence.”

“Just like the time you injured your arm training after healing my broken one?” Tim had you stuck.

You bit your lip in the silence of the room.

“Fine. Maybe I haven’t been totally honest with you all.”

Jason sat up and leaned forwards in his seat “Go on.”

You took a deep breath, preparing for their onslaught as you revealed the truth. “When I heal a wound, it doesn’t just…vanish.” The four of them watched you intently and you could feel a sheen of sweat try to break out across your forehead. “It transfers to me instead.”

Damian stared at you agape “But…”

“You’ve healed us so many times.” Dick said. “That's gotta be…”

Tugging your hoodie over your head, you revealed the scars to them for the first time. Tim had to hold back his shock.

“Oh y/n/n…” The vigilantes all looked at the countless scars that covered your skin.

“They’re not all yours.” You tried to lighten the mood, albeit it seemed to have little effect.

“How have we been letting you do this? We should have know-”

“Stop.” You shut Tim down. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. Healing you is… special. Making sure that you guys get to live another day is more important to me than anything.”

“But you’re hurting yourself…” Damian said shyly, feeling incredibly guilty.

“It doesn’t hurt bad. My accelerated healing means I can get rid of wounds that would take weeks for you to heal in a number of days. Sometimes hours. I like helping you.”

The boys narrowed their eyes at you. They were sceptical however they could see the truth behind it. You were selfless; always giving to others in need. They didn’t like that you were being hurt because of their recklessness, and they were angry with themselves that you felt you couldn’t tell them the truth, but they could see the reasoning behind it.

“Besides” You added. “I think the scars are pretty cool. Like a piece of artwork. And I can use them to blackmail you in the future.” You grinned.

“Tt.” Damian rolled his eyes. “They are pretty cool though…”

There was a nod of agreement.

“Thank you. y/n/n.” Dick said. “I honestly don’t know what we would do without you.”

“Bleed out and die probably.” You joked and he hummed with laughter.

“On a serious note,” Dick added “We have seriously got to stop getting hurt so much.”

🦇 Batfam Taglist:

@mamapucket

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@aestheticdaisies

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 7 months

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Halloween prompts year 2 day 15

Hood remained silent, even as he clenched the gun tightly in his hand. He hadn't even seen a hint of green portals or blond elfs but 200 witnesses couldn't all be wrong.

All of them had stated that a white haired meta with a gas mask was working with a blond elf with a leaf mask and that they had been the ones kidnapping the kids and teens of Gotham.

Jason had heard stories of fairies snatching kids and infants, sometimes swapping them out with a sickly one of thier own. But there were no trades that Jason knew of. Only missing kids.

Hell, all of the biggest child gangs around Crime Alley and the Narrows were gone.

As in gone gone. Not a single member was left nor any trace of where they could have been taken to. As much as he hated to admit it, he might need to ask for help from the Justice League Dark...

---

Link stared down at the kids from his rooftop perch.

They looked...cleaner. Happier. They had gained a healthy amount of weight, no longer stick thin and weak looking. They had season appropriate clothing without holes and others hidden away in chests and armours for the coming seasons far off from now.

His spirit friend, Phantom, had panicked a bit after he realized what they were doing was trafficking, but calmed down once he pointed out that these kids would have a much better life in Hyrule than they would have had in the rotting trashpit that was Gotham.

If they would have lived much longer at all

Still, thier presence here was mutually beneficial. Hyrule had lost over 80% of its population in the Great Calamity and they were no where close to regaining the population they once had. All of thier forts, training areas, ect were specifically targeted and destroyed in the attacks and gardians and monsters were left in the ruins to ensure they could not rebuild what was lost

Which led to the bigger issues at hand. All the empty occupations.

The castle, and thus castle town, were ground zero for the disaster that wiped out the Hylian peoples. With it many businesses and trades were lost. Hyrule had few soldiers and those they did have desperately needed armor, weapons and training.

That wasn't all. Hudson construction had attempted to repair Castle town and eventually the castle, but they were wood workers, not stone masons. They knew little of the craft that was needed.

There were lessons and information in the castle archives covering most of the jobs and trades, as well as how to proform them, but the princess didn't see it as a priority. They didn't have the people necessary to teach these crafts and the castle and town surrounding wasn't really a priority anyway. Not with all the people who still needed help around the kingdom.

Phantom helped a lot too. Other than helping them build towns for the kids (the child gangs actually really liked having a town all to themselves) he did a lot of other random jobs around the kingdom, much like Link himself.

Unfortunately, his next trip to Gotham lead to a run in with the "Red Hood" and the phrase, "Was that a fucking fruit grenade?!" Link did not know what the word "Fucking" meant but the Hood man would not tell him. He is learning a lot of new words from this guy, words that Phantom appearently didn't like cause he loudly scolded Red Hood like a naughty child the first time they met. It was hilarious to see this tiny 15 year old tell off a giant tank of a man.

Link couldn't see the mans expression due to the odd red helm the man wore, but he could tell he was cowed, even if just a bit. Then he began speaking to someone who wasn't there while pressing his finger to the side of his helm where his ear should be. Is Red Hood ill? Does he have a mind sickness like the ones Phantom told him of when describing his parents? Or is this something Link doesn't yet understand...either way he doesn't think he's getting more children for Hyrules future in this trip...or anytime soon if those ominous masked people landing on the rooftops around them had any say in the matter.

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lilliankoo · 7 months

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“wanna play you like a game”series Information.

pairing: villian? antagonist! tribe leader jk x princess! y/n.

trope: “he’s mean to everyone but worships the ground you walk on” will absolutely do anything for you, strangers to lovers.

synopsis: he looks like an angel but is a devil- well that’s what your kingdom thinks. he is also the blessed leader of “lav”; even a leaf cannot move without his permission but here he was in-front of you on his knees. while the whole village bow to him- he only bows to you. there are two paths presented to you- marry him & return his love or refuse his condition & watch him conquer your father’s kingdom. power is an evil yet tempting apple-and now its in your hands- are you going to take a bite; taste the sweet poison or will you use it to tempt others? its an evil world with evil options.. do you think you can handle him?

rating: 18+

EPISODES LIST

episode 0: the satin ribbon.

episode 1: kiss the ground.

episode 2: the silver sword.

episode 3: no man can defeat him.

word count: tbd

warnings: tbd, different for every chapter but overall; smut, age gap (jk is 27 and y/n is 23), blood, rituals!!! (not too bad but still) threats, power dynamics, use of power, tribes, tribe rituals (i made them up :p), lions, horses, weapons, lovesick puppy heart eyed insanely in love jk, possessive jk, slightly controlling jk (not too bad), him spoiling his princess aka you, SMUT SMUT LOTS OF IT, will add more as series progress.

series playlist: serial killer- lana del rey, house of balloons- the weeknd, we’ve only just began- carpenters, do not touch- misamo, help me- hako yamazaki, psycho-jun, and i love her- kurt cobain, blue banisters- lana del rey, get free- lana del rey.

author’s note: HELP MEEEE LMAOO not me releasing a new series while my baby titanic! is barely done (2/7chapters- no i haven’t forgotten abt it i just need some motivation to finish it) okay yes i will try to upload the next chapter of titanic DONT WORRY AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR UNDERSTANDING. also thank you to AI for the pictures- u are scary but i love u. Anyways, so many ideas in my head rn and im slowly slowly executing them 😘 i need time. lmao ok lets goooo.

disclaimer: in no way, shape or form i intend to copy or plagiarize, this is just for fun, i do not own the pics, this does not describe jungkook hes just a "cast/actor" and so does everyone else in the fic.

taglist: let me know if u would like to be tagged.

#jungkook fic #jungkook recs #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungguk #jk fic

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p1nkshield · 9 months

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Hi 👋 This is chapter four of the Estranged Uncle Au!

Just a warning there is mentions of cults and a scene that has Damian being Damian (AKA knife child) Please take care of yourselves! I hope you enjoy!

Clark was sweating buckets.

“I promise you I’m not in danger! This is all a big misunderstanding! Bruce isn’t even that creepy!”

Jazz rattled off several reasons.

“He has a cloyingly sweet public persona, his personal computer has extensive information on all of the local rogues in the area and all the adopted sons we’ve met look practically identical to both each other and you and Danny! Not to mention they all seem trained for combat! How is that not creepy?”

Okay from an impartial standpoint Clark could see how it looked like he was tied up in a cult.

“I swear if another fruitloop billionaire obsessed with one of my family members tries to adopt me I’m gonna wail!”

How specific!

“Wail?” Clark began to ask but was cut off.

“Are you tied up in a cult Clark? Because we can get you out if you are! I … uh know a guy who specializes in taking down cults.”

What?

“I promise you I’m not in a cult! The blue eyes and black hair is a coincidence and I am not in danger! Also what do you mean you know a guy who specializes in taking down cults!?!”

Danny squinted.

“Hold that thought. Everyone stop talking!”

Danny reached towards Clark’s shoulder and picked out a small device, no bigger than a grain of rice out of his cable knit sweater.

“No one who plants listening devices into sweaters isn’t creepy.”

He then promptly threw it to the ground and crushed it with his heel.

“That’s the end of the recording.” Tim said while cringing.

“Sleazy?!? Me? Sleazy? I did a back handspring on hardwood floors for them and they call me sleazy?!”

Dick thought that he could win them over. Was he too heavy handed?

“It’s probably because you fell asleep in the pico de gallo timber.” Jason joked as he inspected the weapons vault.

“What? Me?!? I was the only one who made any headway! I was just up late trying to track whoever was hacking us!” Tim defended.

“Well good news! You found ‘em! Let me know when they hack my library account seeing as the Big bad bat computer is being hacked by a couple teens.” Jason said dismissively as he took a flamethrower fuel canister.

Bruce was experiencing a new amalgamation of emotions. He was both incredibly embarrassed, incredibly amused and incredibly impressed.

How embarrassing that the bat computer was hacked! He put so much effort into the protection of his data!

But then again Clark must be beside himself trying to convince them he wasn’t in a cult and that was incredibly amusing. He even said all the things that people said when they were in denial about being in a cult!

This was absurd! The only way to describe this was absurd!

“Fools! All of you do not truly understand the gravitas of the situation! If they believe that we are indeed weapons dealers they may snoop further and compromise all of our secret identities!” Damian huffed his way into the view of his family.

“We’ll be alright Dami, Tim is reinforcing our defenses for the computer and we’re going to try and disengage for a while. If we keep on trying we might make it worse.” Dick ruffled through Damian’s hair despite many protests.

Damian tutted at this suggestion. They needed to approach the problem head on and quickly rectify the situation lest it spiral into a larger one. Perhaps if they suffered an accident.

“Damian! I know that face! That’s the face you make when you go off and try to rectify the situation by yourself!”

“That is not true Grayson! I was simply thinking about confiding in my companion about how tedious my science project is.”

“You promise you’re only going to engage in age appropriate activities like science homework and book reports?”

“I promise.”

"I'm choosing to believe you" Dick began to walk away before pulling another sour face. "...Sleazy?"

Damian checked his hidden blades one final time before encroaching upon this Daniel Fenton who had foolishly entered an alleyway. He deftly held a knife to the throat of his target.

"If you continue to snoop into my father's business I will not hesitate to cut you down!"

Damian was expecting to me met with fear and copious apologies. He was a fearsome and terrifying warrior after all.

"Are you trying to hold me at knifepoint on your tippy-toes?" The target said in the same tone that one would use with a kitten trying to jump a bit too high. They should be focused on the clear danger Damian was posing. Or at least the danger he was posing. Between the moment Damian looked at his feet and the moment he looked back up to find a very unperturbed Danny.

"Did your father put you up to this?" He asked.

"No! I acted of my own accord!"

"Well are there anymore ineffective threats you want to say?"

Damian was about to say something when his stomach audibly growled. Curses! He could not bring a meal in order to maintain secrecy from Alfred! Damian slowly looked up towards Danny's face. He has that look that Grayson gets before he does something annoying like ruffle his hair.

"Are you hungry?"

Damian did not dignify this question with an answer and began to storm off.

"I'm having some friends over, we can spare you a plate! My friend Sam chose the menu though so its vegan."

Damian stopped in his tracks.

"What is it that you are making?"

"Cauliflower gnocchi with cashew cream pesto."

"And this is taking place in Clark's home?"

"yep."

"Fine. But I will not be lenient with you because you've offered me a meal!"

Danny laughed and texted Sam

"Hey get another bundle of basil Im bringing a guest"

#estranged uncle au #dp x dc #Give clonk a moment to explain himself!#Damian Wayne thinks he is the best at solving issues quickly #Danny: We are having *fancy food you can eat*#Damian: ... fine. You may live a few more hours.#Also Alfred already knows what Damian is doing and where he is. He's just letting the punishment be him missing an Alfred-cooked lunch #Clark isn’t in a cult he swears!#tw cult mention #tw knife

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sailorangelwrites · 1 month

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Alastor x Overlord!Reader One-Shot - I Won't Play your Games, Radio Man

Synopsis: Being an overlord is boring, but boredom is nothing new for you. You never expected that a meeting of the overlords, of all things, would bring excitement, danger and passion to you in the form of the radio demon...

Notes: SFW, mentions of violence but nothing too explicit, non-gendered reader, apathetic reader, the reader can stand up for themself

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I Won't Play your Games, Radio Man

After everything that had happened in the land of the living, you had no hope of reaching heaven. You couldn't remember the last time you had much hope for anything, though.

Looking at your crimson surroundings, you couldn't help but wonder what your afterlife had in store for you. Hell looked like a regular human city, just a lot more... gory and shameless. But you could handle the gore, and the shamelessness was easy enough to ignore, so you decided to explore. What took some getting used to were the odd-looking residents. Souls were... peculiar looking things, you discovered.

There was no point in dwelling on the surface-level matters, you decided. You needed a weapon.

You yearned for the steady, cool weight of a knife in your hand, the same way an artist yearned for pigment, the same way a writer yearned to give their words form. There were many tools to your trade, but a knife would be the simplest to acquire, with the added benefit of easy concealment.

As you thought about holding a knife in your hand, you felt a buzzing beneath your skin. Power. You could identify it through instinct alone. In your hand appeared a knife - black, made from a material you couldn't place.

A convenient power. One that you could get used to.

It didn't take much for you to fall back into the swing of things. You met a man in a bar. A gang of imps had stolen money from him. You tracked them down, retrieved the money, and handed the gentleman the gang leader's horns for good measure.

Word got out. You never had a shortage of customers. And once you had gotten your hands on some angelic steel, things could only escalate.

Business got a lot messier, but for every soul laid to permanent rest your notoriety grew. Sometimes, on nights where you had little to do yet so much emptiness inside, you would walk into the neverending turf wars and start slicing through the participants. Sinners would beg and offer their souls to you on a silver platter.

Who were you to decline their kind offers?

Overlord. That was what they started to call you. You should have felt accomplished, but you didn't. You didn't feel anything at all.

When was the last time you had felt anything?

You truly couldn't remember. In between the mindless slaughter, the exchange of souls and goods, you found yourself wondering if you would ever feel anything even remotely human.

One day, a small demon held out an envelope to you. The thing was sweating bullets, so you took the letter quickly, waving it away. As you opened it with a careful claw, the lesser demon scampered away in a pathetic display. Killing it might have been a kindness - it clearly wasn't cut out for the harsh environment it had condemned itself to.

However, you let it leave, and focused on the letter. It was inviting you to an overlords' meeting.

You went, if only to alleviate some of the boredom you had been suffering through.

The other overlords eyed you with what could only be described as hunger.

Could they overpower you? Could they push you out from the top? Could they subjugate you and steal away your infamy?

You kept your head high and refused to meet their discerning gazes.

"Greetings, Hell's sovereign overlords..." Carmilla began, before launching into the briefing.

Extermination statistics, turf wars, troublemakers to be dealt with...

All so very boring. You half listened and chose to observe your peers.

Each one was stranger than whoever was sitting next to them, in their own right. Their attentions were no longer focused on you. They had drawn their conclusions, which were, quite frankly, none of your business.

However, one demon continued to stare at you. Burning red eyes, thin grey skin, and a jagged smile that looked like it hurt. You met his gaze and saw the smile deepen.

Challenging. Amused. Hungry.

It was purely predatory. Something about that thrilled you - you felt it in your stomach, the conflicting urges to run and to lunge at him.

Carmilla finished up the meeting. Everyone was standing up and walking away. You glanced away from the man and to the door.

That was a mistake.

When you looked back his seat was empty.

"Why hello there, my esteemed colleague! I have heard a great many things about you down the old grapevine, so I am positively thrilled to have a chance to meet you in the flesh!"

His voice was heavily filtered, and even when he spoke he somehow managed to maintain that sharp, menacing smile. And somehow, he was behind you. How had he managed that? You had only looked away for a split second, you hadn't even heard him move.

You stood up from your chair and took a step back from him. "I haven't heard about you," you responded, keeping your tone neutral.

The overlord's expression twitched and a pop of static filled the air. Any trace of irritation was wiped away as he took a step toward you, coming far too close for comfort. "Is that so? Such a pity. There isn't a cultured demon in all of Hell who hasn't heard of the radio demon."

"Then I must not be very cultured," you said.

A laugh track roared as the 'radio demon' put an arm around your shoulders. You couldn't help the low growl that escaped you at the contact. His eyes narrowed at that, but he didn't comment on the sound.

"Fortunately there are remedies for such an affliction," he told you, walking you out of the room. You felt trapped but didn't dare to lash out. A part of you wanted to see where the interaction would go - to get a glimpse into the mind of the other overlord.

His face turned towards yours, uncanny grin wide and far too close as he said, "Those who are uncultured are simply out of tune with the arts. Perhaps a tour of my radio station is in order, hm? What do you say?"

A trap.

"I may be uncultured," you started, "but I know that it's frowned upon to go off with strange men."

"It would be a shame to incur frowns," the man said with a hum. "Oh well, another time! That certainly changes things... Oh well, you will find that I can be quite adaptable."

"How admirable," you deadpanned.

"Aren't I just?"

He led you into the elevator, still far too close, but now there was nowhere to run.

You could summon a blade or a gun, but you knew that wasn't a good idea. The only tool you could safely use were your words, but even that could go south. Still, you decided to be blunt and say, "If there's something you need, just come out with it."

"To the point, I see," he said with a chuckle. "Very well. I wanted to propose a game, of sorts."

"I have little time for games," you said, though the possibilities began to run wild through your mind.

Something fun. Something to break up the boredom. A chance to beat this smarmy, smiling overlord.

"You ought to make time for games, my friend. This afterlife of ours can get terribly boring without some form of sport... Though I can see the novelty has already worn off for you. You really should smile more, my dear!"

"The novelty was never there to begin with," you answered truthfully.

"Such a shame! Yes, indeed, I must find a way to bring some passion to your weary soul!"

The elevator reached its destination, opening to a back alley. You stepped out before the man could continue puppeteering you.

This was your chance to get away. But this had been the first interesting interaction you'd had in a while...

"What sort of game did you have in mind?"

A muffled crowd cheered as the man flew over to you, invading your personal space once more. "Something right up your alley! A battle of wit, strength, and charisma!"

"That doesn't sound like something-"

"Whichever one of us can secure the most deals within a day will be the victor," he said, steamrolling over your words.

"What are the stakes?"

"If I win, you will be in eternal service to me." As he said that, he seemed to glow with feral power, his shadow growing and giving you a wicked grin. "And if you win... You will receive three favours from me. Does that sound fair?"

"No. Not even a little bit. I was interested before, but it's clear that the game is stacked in your favour."

The overlord's eyes darkened, sending a delightful pang of fear through your entire being.

"I do not appreciate the implications of that. To think that I would ever 'stack' a game? Ha, it's ludicrous, preposterous, and utterly - utterly - ridiculous!"

"Am I supposed to just believe you?" you snapped. "You make weird eyes at me, get real close, start talking about games where I'll be in 'eternal service' to you... And I'm supposed to think that you're - what? - chivalrous deep down? Trustworthy? Assume that favours from you are actually worth something? Do I look that stupid to you?"

The radio demon blinked. "Do you want me to answer that truthfully?"

You folded your arms. The stance would come off as defensive, but you didn't need your arms to put up a fight, not with your particular powers. "Do you want me to blindly believe you?"

"No, of course not! I see you as... a kindred spirit, in a sense. Such violence within you, a head for business, yet bogged down by apathy... If a game is not to your tastes, then how about a mutually beneficial partnership?"

There was something in his eyes that looked almost proud. Satisfied, maybe. It was strange. He really was an expressive creature, but you could tell there were so many thoughts in his head that weren't fully reaching his features.

You had a feeling that he would be one hell of a poker player.

"'Mutually beneficial partnership'? Is that how people from your era asked each other out or something?"

"Hah! You are a funny one..."

That... wasn't a no. Huh.

"Wait, are you actually-"

"Ah, how unfortunate, but it seems I must be running along now. It's disheartening that we couldn't come to an agreement of any sort, but in the future I hope we can see eye to eye. I will be in contact with you soon, as I did enjoy this little chat!"

You found yourself smiling - genuinely smiling - for the first time in what felt like forever.

"And what's the actual name of the gentlemen I should be waiting for?" you asked.

"How rude of me, it seems I've missed a trick or two! The one you will be awaiting is Alastor. I hear he's quite the troublemaker, though."

"At least you've heard of him," you said, delighting in the way his eye left twitched.

"A funny one indeed," Alastor concluded before vanishing in a smog. The last thing you saw was his shadow grinning at you with a wink.

You stayed there for a moment, basking in the unfamiliar warmth filling your chest. It was, without a doubt, a feeling you could get used to.

(Thanks for reading - I have requests open, so if you want to see anything specific, let me know and I'll see what I can do!)

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #oneshot #one shot #fanfic #fanfiction #overlord reader

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haggishlyhagging · 8 months

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Although there have been exceptions, the evolutionary model of man the hunter-warrior has colored most interpretations of Paleolithic art. Only in later twentieth-century excavations in eastern and western Europe and Siberia has the interpretation of both new and old finds gradually begun to change. Some of the new researchers were women, who noted the female genital imagery and also leaned toward more complex religious rather than the "hunting magic" explanations of Paleolithic art. And as more scholars were secular scientists rather than monks like Abbé Breuil (whose "moral" interpretations of religious practices colored so much of the nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Paleolithic research), some of the men who reexamined the cave paintings, figurines, and other Paleolithic finds now also began to question tenets once accepted by the scholarly establishment.

An interesting example of this questioning relates to the stick and line forms painted on the walls of Paleolithic caves and engraved in bone or stone objects. To many scholars, it seemed obvious that they depict weapons: arrows, barbs, spears, harpoons. But as Alexander Marshack writes in The Roots of Civilization, one of the first works to frontally challenge this standard interpretation, these line paintings and engravings could just as easily be plants, trees, branches, reeds, and leaves. Moreover, this new interpretation would account for what would otherwise be a remarkable absence of pictures of such vegetation among a people who, like contemporary gatherer-hunter peoples, must have relied heavily on vegetation for food.

In Paleolithic Cave Art, Peter Ucko and Andrée Rosenfeld had also wondered about the peculiar absence of vegetation in Paleolithic art. They further noted another curious incongruity. All other evidence showed that a particular kind of harpoon called biserial didnt appear until the late Paleolithic or Magdalenian age—even though scholars kept "finding" them in "sticks" thousands of years earlier in the wall paintings of prehistoric caves. Moreover, why would Paleolithic artists want to depict so many hunting failures? For if the sticks and lines were in fact weapons, the pictures had them chronically missing their targets.

To probe such mysteries, Marshack, who was not an archaeologist, hence not bound by earlier archeological conventions, thoroughly examined the engravings on a bone object that had been described as pictures of harpoons. Under a microscope he discovered that not only were the barbs of this supposed harpoon turned the wrong way but the points of the long shaft were also at the wrong end. But what did these engravings represent if they were not "wrong way" weapons?

As it turned out, the lines easily conformed to the proper angle of branches growing at the top of a long stem. In other words, these and other engravings conventionally described as "barbed signs" or "masculine objects" were probably nothing more than stylized representations of trees, branches, and plants.

-Riane Eisler, The Chalice and the Blade: Our History, Our Future

#riane eisler #paleolithic #cave art #male mind #female mind

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almostoreghano · 1 year

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Edgar Allan Poe (BSD) x gn!reader

TW/CW: suggestive language (nothing explicit), bottom!poe again sorry but 😔 I’m down bad for this man

Summary: Reader accidentally comes across some interesting poems Poe wrote about them.

Note: reader has more game than me 😔✊ I’m dog shit at writing poems so maybe later I’ll write what Poe might of sent you.

———————————————————————

You were sitting alone at your house when you heard scratching by your door. Most would have reached for the nearest weapon, but you knew all too well what was making those scratching noises.

“Karl,” you said reaching down to pet the little raccoon. Before your hand met his small head, you noticed he had loose papers in his mouth.

“Now what do you have there? Have you been stealing again?” Karl look at you begrudgingly, clearly annoyed that you would dare make such an accusation despite his track record. He dropped the papers at your feet before waltzing into your living room, towards your couch.

You immediately recognised the beautiful, yet slightly rushed, handwritten words.

Edgar, you thought to yourself, not realising the goofy smile that spread across your lips. As you carefully scanned the documents though, the smile was replaced by a look of shock as your face began to heat up.

A plethora of beautifully written poems sharing the many fantasies Poe had, many of which were very erotic, scattered across the pages in the form of a letter. Poe, in his usual poetic way, truly described what he saw and how that made him feel.

Your concentration was interrupted when Karl clung onto your ankle.

“Maybe I should take these back to Poe Karl, What do you think?” You asked, patting his head gently. Naturally, Karl let out an approving chirp.

You reached Poe’s house to find him already standing by the door.

“My darling, I-“ he paused, blush layering his face as soon as he saw the papers in your hand, immediately recognising them based on the smirk dancing across your face.

“I see you Karl ratted me out,” he said looking down, not daring to look you in the eyes. You had to admit, you didn’t expect such explicit words from your boyfriend, it was like night and day from his usual gothic horror stories.

Poe led you up to his office, Karl seemed to sense the change in the air and remained in the foyer.

As soon as Poe closed the door, you placed the unholy papers on the nearest bookshelf before pressing the tall man against the wooden door.

No matter how many times you caught Poe in this position, he always reacted as if it were the first time. A blushing, stuttering mess, only become more of a wreck as your hands made there way to his waist, deeply massaging it.

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable,” he said, even after making note of his current predicament, he still worried he’d push you away.

“Of course not my little raven,” you said in a hushed voice. Your lips brushed against his, whilst pushing back his bangs to see his full face. You frequently did this merely to pull the nervous little whimpers from your partner that you’ve grown to love.

“Just a new side of you that’s all,” you took time to admire his features before letting out a content sigh before kissing him softly.

Naturally, the kiss ended long before Poe would have liked.

“Edgar~” you said in the manner you knew made his knees weak.

“You made me seem more attractive than I thought I was though,” you said, almost overcome with shyness. Poe furrowed his brows—he never wanted to hear his partner under-appreciate themselves.

“I simply wrote what I saw, and how I feel when I look at you,” he paused.

“I feel disappointed in myself when I think those things about you but, sometimes I can’t help it,”

“Especially since you’re so,” he didn’t know what to say next. When the writer runs out of words to describe the overwhelming feeling he felt around his lover, you know he is truly overcome by love.

“Hmm,” you said, moving your hand to fiddle with his jacket.

“it’s not gross, I love when you express yourself. Especially the cute noises you make,” you said with another smirk and a wink. Edgar pursed his lips in an attempt to hold back any noise threatening to spill out.

You took a step back, placing your hands back on his waist. Poe pouted from the sudden warmth dissipating, but briefly regained composure.

“I’m glad I didn’t push you away, I didn’t mean for you to find those,” he looked at his hands, “especially since they weren’t finished.”

As if the passed 5 minutes had never accrued, your face completely switched from a seductive smile to plain shock.

“There’s more?!” You said, a little louder than either of your would have liked. Poe stayed silent, not wanting to expose himself further, made his way back to his desk.

“Edgar! You can’t just drop that information and then walk away!” You said nervously, but still with a slight smile threatening to appear. That of course did not last long as the urge to tease your lover returned.

As he stood in front of his desk, you placed a hand on his shoulder turning him around, and leaning him against the wooden surface.

“Why don’t you tell me more about your little fantasies.”

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alanshemper · 5 months

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There are other reasons why environmentalism might have looked like a bourgeois playground to Said. The Israeli state has long coated its nation-building project in a green veneer – it was a key part of the Zionist ‘back to the land’ pioneer ethos. And in this context trees, specifically, have been among the most potent weapons of land grabbing and occupation. It’s not only the countless olive and pistachio trees that have been uprooted to make way for settlements and Israeli-only roads. It’s also the sprawling pine and eucalyptus forests that have been planted over those orchards, as well as over Palestinian villages, most notoriously by the Jewish National Fund, which, under its slogan ‘Turning the Desert Green’, boasts of having planted 250 million trees in Israel since 1901, many of them non-native to the region. In publicity materials, the JNF bills itself as just another green NGO, concerned with forest and water management, parks and recreation. It also happens to be the largest private landowner in the state of Israel, and despite a number of complicated legal challenges, it still refuses to lease or sell land to non-Jews.

...

The JNF is an extreme and recent example of what some call ‘green colonialism’. But the phenomenon is hardly new, nor is it unique to Israel. There is a long and painful history in the Americas of beautiful pieces of wilderness being turned into conservation parks – and then that designation being used to prevent Indigenous people from accessing their ancestral territories to hunt and fish, or simply to live. It has happened again and again. A contemporary version of this phenomenon is the carbon offset. Indigenous people from Brazil to Uganda are finding that some of the most aggressive land grabbing is being done by conservation organisations. A forest is suddenly rebranded a carbon offset and is put off-limits to its traditional inhabitants. As a result, the carbon offset market has created a whole new class of ‘green’ human rights abuses, with farmers and Indigenous people being physically attacked by park rangers or private security when they try to access these lands. Said’s comment about tree-huggers should be seen in this context.

...

But this only scratches the surface of what we can learn from reading Said in a warming world. He was, of course, a giant in the study of ‘othering’ – what is described in Orientalism as ‘disregarding, essentialising, denuding the humanity of another culture, people or geographical region’. And once the other has been firmly established, the ground is softened for any transgression: violent expulsion, land theft, occupation, invasion. Because the whole point of othering is that the other doesn’t have the same rights, the same humanity, as those making the distinction. What does this have to do with climate change? Perhaps everything.

We have dangerously warmed our world already, and our governments still refuse to take the actions necessary to halt the trend. There was a time when many had the right to claim ignorance. But for the past three decades, since the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change was created and climate negotiations began, this refusal to lower emissions has been accompanied with full awareness of the dangers. And this kind of recklessness would have been functionally impossible without institutional racism, even if only latent. It would have been impossible without Orientalism, without all the potent tools on offer that allow the powerful to discount the lives of the less powerful. These tools – of ranking the relative value of humans – are what allow the writing off of entire nations and ancient cultures. And they are what allowed for the digging up of all that carbon to begin with.

2 June 2016

#naomi klein #edward said #climate change #palestine #israel #london review of books #environmentalism #conservation #jewish national fund #jnf

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emeraldtart · 1 year

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Reincarnation AU (Hantengu)

History

Hantengu was born as himself. He was a bit cowardly, but after meeting the love of his life, he swore to be better. At this point he still doesn't have any of his memories yet. He has two sons.

But then karma strikes. His wife fell ill and passed away, leaving him with his two children. One of his sons went out the city to start a new life, while the other stayed behind their hometown.

The son that went to the city gets married, and they were blessed with a quadruplets; Sekido, Kraku, Aizetsu and Urogi.

When the brothers turn eleven, the father of the four passed away with the same illness that killed his mother, leaving them with their mother. Their lives began to fell to a downward spiral, as it turns out that their mother was the incarnation of Urami.

The siblings were scared since their mother is now as cruel as a demon. After a year of torment and abuse, Sekido wakes his brothers up at night so that they can catch the late night train and find their uncle or grandfather.

Meanwhile, Hantengu took care of his grandson, Zohakuten, after his parents passed away in a storm. Imagine his surprise when he saw the brothers knocking on the door at night, all wet from rain.

After the quartet and Zohakuten fell asleep, Hantengu remembered his past life. As much as he wanted pity, he knows that he doesn't deserve it. So he took his late wife's advice and move on with his life, taking care of his grandsons all by himself.

When the quartet turns 16, the family moves to Kimetsu City so that the grandsons can continue their studies.

General headcanons

Hantengu is one of the first to be reincarnated, along with Jigoro and the other elderly characters.

Sekido is the eldest, followed by Karaku, Aizetsu and Urogi.

The quartet are 16, while Zohakuten is the same age as Senjuro.

None of the clones, including Urami, remembers their past lives. Only Hantengu remembers as it is his punishment for his previous life.

Hantengu worked at an antique shop. He knows a lot about weapons, especially the ones his clones wielded during his time as a demon.

The grandsons' names are written in katakana (Japanese syllabic writing used for words of foreign origin). So for example, Aizetsu's name isn't written as 哀絶, but アイゼツ.

Because naming your children after emotions is strange. At least you can put actual meanings this way.

Quartet + Zohakuten headcanons

Sekido takes the worst of their mother's wrath. He has many scars underneath his clothes. This also causes him to be very ill-tempered as he doesn't know who will hurt him and who will not. After all, if their mother hits her own sons, what will other people do to them? The only way to gain his trust is to gain Aizetsu's first.

Karaku can be described as lazy, because he just do what he wants to do. He likes crafting things like fans and such. Normally sleeps in class, but did his homework on time. Surprisingly, he pays a lot of attention to details that normal people doesn't pay attention to. So he knows a lot about other people.

Aizetsu always have a sad look on his face, but it's just his resting face. He actually smiles as much as Urogi and Karaku. Interested in guns after first day at Kimetsu Academy. Got mistaken as a girl by Zenitsu due to the nickname his brothers call him, "Ai".

Urogi is the most chaotic of the four. He likes to climb trees or any other tall things. The most hyper, he has plenty of energy to burn and was sought out by many clubs. He always take naps in trees. Can talk to birds somehow, an eagle he saved when he was young flew all the way from his hometown to the city to thank him.

Zohakuten always have a constant frown on his face, but he can be a nice person when he's not being rude, which is often. He can play the drums. Gets along with Muichiro. They exchange creative insults like trading cards.

Both Giyuu and Aizetsu thinks that tracksuits are the peak of modern fashion, much to Sekido and Uzui's chagrin.

#hantengu #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #kny reincarnation au #demon slayer #sekido #aizetsu #karaku #urogi #zohakuten #urami #tomioka giyuu #muichiro tokito #uzui tengen #zenitsu agatsuma #jigoro kuwajima #rengoku senjurou

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moonstrider9904 · 4 months

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Abundance

Part 2 of Bread and Tea

{series masterlist} {join my taglist} {ao3 link} {wattpad link}

Summary: Christmas Eve is in the air, as is the snow and the winter chill. You’re baking an apple pie before your cozy holiday festivities begin, and someone’s sneaking bites from the filling.

Tags/Warnings: No warnings, this is just pure fluff, soft!Crosshair, domestic Crosshair, baking, coziness, and my closest attempt at a Moonstrider Holiday Special lol

A/N: I made some apple pie in advance for Christmas Eve (I’m writing this on Dec. 23rd) and thought of this story idea. I was initially going to write a Moonlight series short story, but then I remembered I had this series among my WIPs and it felt so fitting and so right that I rushed up here to write it once all the baking was done. It’s self-indulgent as ever, so I hope you’ll enjoy some soft!Crosshair in a holiday setting. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and happy New Year!

Word count: 2k

The song that inspired this was Abundance by Chris Mazuera, because I love listening to this cozy song whenever I’m baking something. Enjoy!

A preheating oven was exactly what the cottage needed.

The fireplace was your most reliable friend in the winter when the cottage got chilly, but the oven was still unmatched, as if it were your very own secret weapon. Whether you needed comfort, warmth, or a food craving needed to be satisfied, it never failed you. The smell of the recently made apple filling, a combination of cinnamon and butter and sugar and maple syrup—your secret ingredient—alongside those ripe, honey crisp apples, blended with the scent of the oak wood crackling in the chimney.

It was like a symphony to you. It was like home.

You turned the stovetop off and let the apple filling rest on its pot, hopefully allowing it to cool down enough while you worked on the crust. You’d be kneading and folding and spreading dough for a while, all in your carefully figured out system that came after years and years of baking. Apple pie was more of a tradition than a recipe now, so much that you didn’t even need the cookbook handy anymore. You knew that recipe well-enough by heart now. So you let the filling rest and cool and you turned your back on it, now facing the kitchen island where your dough was sitting ready for you to work on it.

Dough work took up all of your concentration, or most of it at least. Usually, you still had some focus to spare on the rest of the world around you. You could hear the wind, the fireplace, you could even hear your man’s steps coming and going from the kitchen.

He said nothing, as he usually would. The words that his oldest brother had used to describe him when he first introduced you to him came to mind—not much of a conversationalist. That definitely held up until that very moment when you rolled out the main disk that would go on your pie pan. He would walk into the kitchen, and then the pacing would stop. He would remain still for a moment, completely silent, most likely watching you at work. Then, he would make his way back into the living room to sit by the fireplace.

And then, he would repeat that.

Your mind began to wander. Whenever Crosshair was curious about something you were doing, he would stand still and observe you the whole time, never really bothering to comment anything, just watching. But it felt odd to you that this time he seemed to come and go. Perhaps, given the observative nature of a former sniper, he’d also gotten the recipe for an apple pie down to every last detail. You’d baked it so many times in that cottage that he must have known it by now.

Your train of thought was broken by the sound of his steps returning to the kitchen. When you felt him stopping, you stopped rolling out the dough and looked over your shoulder, and you caught him in the act. When he felt you looking, Crosshair’s eyes landed on you, standing perfectly still, but it was already too late for him to retrieve his hand from the pot of apple pie filling, with a piece of spice and sugar coated apple clutched between his fingers.

“Gotcha,” you teased.

Still staring straight into your eyes, Crosshair took the piece of apple to his mouth and ate it.

You gasped dramatically. “Have you no shame?”

“You should take this as a compliment,” he said as he reached for another cube of apple. “It’s pretty good.”

“Don’t try to mask your antics with flattery,” you turned your body to fully face him “I have a pie to fill, and that’s gonna be hard if you keep eating that.”

Crosshair shot his signature smug grin at you, his eyes gleaming with the will to tease, as his hand slowly reached into the pie filling pot once more. His teeth bared slightly as he waited for your reaction.

Of course you were going to play along.

“Don’t you dare,” you raised a brow at him.

Crosshair inched his hand closer to the filling.

“I am warning you, Crosshair, do not touch one more piece of that filling,” you said as you took your wooden roller and pointed it at him like a makeshift sword.

“You dare point that thing at me?” Crosshair raised how brow at you.

“I’m the baker, and right now, this kitchen is my domain,” you said. “You have no power here.”

“Watch me,” he said as he snatched another piece of apple and ate it while looking you in the eyes.

You put the roller down and crossed your arms, faking annoyance. “You’re not getting any presents tomorrow.”

“You’re going to cave,” he mused as he began walking up to you. “You know why?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you began to turn around, reaching for the roller, but his hand was over yours before you could lift it from the counter top.

“Because you love it when I tease you,” Crosshair purred.

His soft grip on your hand made you let go of the roller again. His hands then made his way up to your shoulders, rubbing up and down as he felt the warm yarn of your gray sweater under his palms. “You’re soft.”

“You’re not sweetalking me,” you averted your gaze, still playing along in your role of unamused girlfriend.

“I believe I am,” Crosshair grinned as he noticed the reddish taint on your cheeks. “Hey?”

“Not listening,” you said, but a smile took over your lips as you suppressed a giggle.

“Hey,” Crosshair cooed again, his hands squeezing your arms as he leaned down and pressed his lips onto yours.

You could never resist Crosshair’s kisses. His lips on yours made all of your walls come down, and your arms went up around his neck while his arms traveled down around your waist, pressing your body closer to his. Crosshair pulled you up and made you stand on your toes, and he gave your body a tiny squeeze that made you giggle into the kiss. The sound was music to his ears, and he moaned into the kiss in that low, smooth voice that you loved so much.

“Mm,” you squirmed in his grip. “Cross, I have to finish the pie.”

As you talked, Crosshair kept smooching your cheeks and your jawline, hoping to draw more of those sweet giggles that he adored from you. Although he succeeded, he was then met by you gazing in his eyes with a blend of sweetness and firmness somehow only you could manage.

“That oven’s going to finish preheating any moment now,” you whispered.

Softly, Crosshair helped settle you down on your feet. “Mind if I watch?”

“Go ahead,” you grinned and turned around, taking your wooden tool to finish rolling out the dough.

Crosshair watched as you cut some strips of dough and set them apart for the lattice, some finer than others, and he watched as your fingers delicately took the time to put three of those strips together and form them into a braid long enough to go around the pie’s full circumference. Crosshair’s lips curved into a smile as he watched you, and though you couldn’t see his expression, you felt his arms wrapping tighter around you.

“You really do love this,” he whispered.

You smiled at his remark. “Yeah.”

When you finished up the braid of dough, you took a quick moment to count the strips of dough that you had and turned around in Crosshair’s arms, smiling softly at him. “I’m going to need that filling now.”

“Of course,” his eyes gleamed with mischief again.

“Cross,” you said.

Crosshair chuckled and went to get the filling from the stove for you. He handed it to you without having taken a single piece of apple, and you mouthed the words thank you when you took the pot from him. Crosshair went back to embracing you as you put the disk of rolled out dough onto the pie dish, delicately taking it and tucking it in so that it would rest perfectly along the dish’s shape, never pulling or tugging or doing anything that would suggest rushing the process.

You then took the filling and placed it within the dough, spoonful by spoonful. The scent of apple mixed with cinnamon and butter filled your nostrils, and unconsciously you hummed in delight at one of your favorite scents in the world. And while you basked in the joy that assembling the pie brought to you, Crosshair continued to watch as he enjoyed the warmth of having you close in his arms. He watched as you put the last couple of spoonfuls of filling into the pie and set the dishes aside, and he knew it was time for you to start building the lattice to finish it off.

The little gleam of mischief returned to Crosshair’s eyes once more, and even if you couldn’t see him as he hugged you from behind, you felt one of his hands lifting from your body only for you to see it reaching into the pie for another piece of apple. You then heard as Crosshair ate the softened, caramelized apple, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He reached in another two or three times—you were too amused to count—as you finished assembling the pie’s top, and even then, he reached into one of the gaps where he could reach for one last piece.

Crosshair got one more chance to admire the delicacy and care of your work when you put egg wash over the pie’s crust, and he only unwrapped his arms from around you when it was time to put the pie into the oven. You were careful when you placed it inside, feeling the heat around you, and when you closed the oven door and turned around, you were met with Crosshair smiling softly at you, a look that you loved with your soul and simply couldn’t see enough times.

“Come here,” Crosshair said so softly it was nearly a whisper.

Without hesitation, you walked into his arms and reached up to cup his cheeks while you kissed him. He kissed you back tenderly with one of his hands reaching to the back of your neck, entwining his fingers gently through your hair. But as much as Crosshair was enjoying the kiss, he parted from you to lead you over to the living room.

He took a seat on the couch in front of the fireplace, and you went over to sit leaning on him, but only after reaching for a blanket you could pull over you both. You leaned back and were engulfed by his warmth, feeling comforted by the fluffy blanket on top of you, and as you settled into the couch and heard the crackling of the fireplace, you felt Crosshair begin to play gently with your hair again.

“What are you thinking?” You asked him.

Crosshair hummed. “You’re happy.”

You smiled softly, and under the blanket, your hands found his to give them a squeeze.

“I’m happy here,” you said. “And I’m happy with you.”

“You never think of wanting more?” He asked.

You shifted in your place to look over your shoulder enough to look him in the eyes. “All that I love and value most in the world is right here, Crosshair. I’ve seen a world outside of this place, but ultimately this is where I want to be.”

Crosshair smiled and leaned in to give your temple a soft kiss. “Then here you’ll stay.”

You smiled and turned around again, settling your weight fully onto Crosshair and the couch beneath you, with his words echoing inside you as you took in the sounds around you—the wind, the fireplace, Crosshair’s breathing, the ticking of the timer set for your pie. That place you loved so much would be where you stayed.

And it would be where you always returned.

{Next chapter (coming soon!)} {Back to series masterlist}

Taglist: @zoeykallus @sageislostinspring @misogirl828 @dangerousstrawberrypie @salaminus @ladykatakuri @whore4rex @morganlefaye13 @nunanuggets

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Thank you so much for reading!

#moonstrider writes #tbb crosshair fluff #tbb au #tbb cottagecore au #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fluff #tbb fluff #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x you #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #the bad batch crosshair x reader #crosshair #clone force 99 #bad batch crosshair

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higanbana-writer · 1 year

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Honeymoon, Un Deux Trois

Pairing: Kyōjurō x Fem!Reader Cw: Angst, implied character death Note: Inspired by the song Honeymoon Un Deux Trois, covered by dongdang

A demon’s dying screech filled the air, shattering the once tranquil atmosphere of the forest.

Kyōjurō sighed as he sheathed his blade, watching as the body in front of him crumbled away into ashes. This wasn’t the demon he’d been sent to kill; it’d been far too weak and confrontational than the reports had described.

Glancing at the starless sky above him, he was relieved to see that there was still plenty of time into the night to continue searching for his assigned target. Not bothering to spare another look at the demon he had just killed, Kyōjurō began walking through the dark mass of trees once more. He remained on high alert, keeping a hand on the hilt of his weapon.

After what felt like a while of trekking without any sign of the demon, he suddenly noticed a small glimmer coming from up ahead. Eyes narrowing wearily, he picked up his pace until he found himself in front of one of the many trees around, neck craned to look upwards. And there, hovering among the lower branches of the tree, was a small orb of light. He could sense a faint trace of demon from it, yet it didn’t seem to be doing anything other than just…being there. It didn’t appear to have any intention of attacking him, so what was it for? Was this perhaps the demon’s way of observing its territory remotely?

He stared at it as he thought over the possibilities, his brows knitted thoughtfully. The longer he looked at the orb, the more he began to realize that it was actually quite pretty and it seemed to emit a rather comforting glow. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Kyōjurō caught sight of another shimmering orb just a few trees down. When he went over to check it out, he spotted yet another one further away. And it continued for the next few orbs he spotted, new ones seemingly popping up out of nowhere every time he neared the most recent of them.

It wasn’t long before he realized that they seemed to be leading him somewhere deeper into the forest. Though he would have preferred to find the demon on his own and catch it off guard, having the demon guide him to itself wasn’t such a bad option either. He was well aware that he was most likely walking into a trap, but he was certain he’d be able to handle whatever awaited him.

And so, he allowed the trail of orbs to guide him. The further Kyōjurō walked, the more orbs began to appear. Soon enough, they decorated the branches of the trees on each side of him, reminding him of a tree he’d seen once in a Western owned shop. A Christmas tree, that’s what the shop owner had called it. However, these golden orbs were so much more beautiful than the multi-colored bulbs of light from his memory. Everything looked so dreamy – the once dark and gloom trees now adorned with glimmering orbs of various sizes that casted a gentle glow, illuminating the path that seemed to have been set out just for him.

One foot after the other, it felt like his body was moving on its own. An irresistible urge to see what lay at the end of the light threatened to overflow from within him.

What was he here for again? Kyōjurō could have sworn it was something important. Yet, the answer seemed to slip further and further away from him as he thought about it. And in an instant, he was distracted by the faint sound of music that drifted through the air. He strained his ears to listen, his steps quickening.

As he got closer, he realized what he was hearing was the light and warm notes of a piano. Though he’d only heard the piano once before, there was no mistaking the distinctive sounds it produced. No sooner had he recognized the familiar tones, another instrument joined in on the melody – a woodwind of some sort.

It was a beautiful and captivating tune, completely foreign comparing to the traditional Japanese music he was used to. A soothing voice began to sing along to the music and it seemed to beckon him forward, towards the break through the trees he spotted up ahead.

Ah, finally. He couldn’t remember whom or what he was looking for, but he knew it lay just beyond. Without any hesitation, he threw all caution to the wind as he stepped through the trees and into a clearing.

"Everyone has gone. In our very own town, The mechanized clock Notifies us of night’s arrival."

Kyōjurō’s gaze was immediately drawn to a woman standing in the middle of the clearing, her back to him and head tilted up towards the full moon overhead. Upon hearing him, she immediately turned around and his breath caught in his throat when he glimpsed her face.

“Kyōjurō!”

While everything around him seemed hazy, as if he were in a dream, he could see that bright smile of yours as clear as day. The same smile that he’d long ago sworn to protect. Donned in a wine-colored Western styled dress and a diamond necklace that shone like stars adorning your neck, you were every bit as beautiful as he remembered.

“You’re late, you know. The music already started.” You walked up to him with an exasperated pout, though the smile remained in your eyes.

"The twilight dyes The sky the color of wine, And invites us inexperienced Two toward the stage."

“Well then, shall we dance?”

His gaze dropped down to your outstretched hand and before he knew it, his body was already moving to accept your offer. His hand slid into yours, fingers entwining with each other. Your skin felt cold and oddly smooth, almost like…porcelain. But he paid no heed to it, instead placing his other hand around your waist and pulling you closer to him. With your lips curled in delight, you settled a hand onto his shoulder.

"Chasse ‘n’ Whisk ‘n’ Natural turn I will do magic for you. Throwaway and Oversway The name of that is honey mead."

Kyōjurō had never danced before, at least not any kind of waltz. And yet, somehow, he knew exactly what to do. As he stepped forward with his left foot, you smoothly stepped backwards with your right in response. The two of you began to dance across the open space, seamlessly following along to the rhythm of the music.

"Honeymoon, Un Deux Trois, We entwine each other’s fingers. Singin’ Swingin’ Sweetest Song And play the dreams of us two."

Even in that clearing, all the trees that lined its edges were bedecked with glowing orbs which bathed the area in a soft, romantic light. But its beauty was left unappreciated by him, nothing but a blur as his gaze stayed on yours. All he could see was you and the way you looked at him with such overflowing love, as if he were your entire world. No words were spoken between the two of you, because no words were needed.

"Chasse ‘n’ Whisk ‘n’ Natural turn I will cast magic on you. Throwaway and Oversway The honey of fascination. Honey mead."

The two of you danced as one, each movement he made perfectly complimented by yours and yours with his. The skirt of your dress flared out as Kyōjurō spun you around, briefly giving you the appearance of a flower in perfect bloom. Pulling you back into his arms, time seemed to stop for a moment as he dipped you back, leaning in until your noses were almost touching and your breath ghosted across his lips. You stared up at him with eager anticipation and unable to resist that endearing look, he pressed a soft kiss against your mouth.

"Honeymoon, Un Deux Trois, I put my lips on those of yours. Singin’ Swingin’ Sweetest Song And play the dreams of us two."

It’d been so long since he’d last felt your lips upon his and though they were as cold as your hands – giving him a slight sense of unfamiliarity – he still relished every moment of the kiss. By the time he had pulled you back onto your feet, the singing had faded away and only music filled the air. So instead of going back to dancing, the two of you simply swayed to the quieting tune. Kyōjurō held you in his arms while you rested your head on him, and caught up in the moment, three words spilled past his lips before he even realized it.

“I love you.”

It came out as no louder than a whisper, but you heard him clearly, nuzzling his neck as you echoed the phrase back to him. It was such a simple exchange of affection between lovers, but to him, it meant everything. Up until that point, to hear you utter those words to him even for just one more time was something he could only desperately wish for.

“We can stay like this, you know.” You murmured, placing a loving kiss against his jaw. “Just the two of us. That’s what you’ve been yearning for, right? So stay with me. Promise me you won’t leave.”

Your voice was like honey to his ears, a smooth and sweet temptation that took every ounce of his will to resist. He swallowed hard, arms tightening around you. No matter how much he wanted to give in and remain with you, he knew that he couldn’t.

“…Please forgive me, my love.”

With a pained expression, Kyōjurō forced himself to let you go and gently push you away. He ignored the confused and hurt expression on your face, instead whirling around to face the demon that he'd sensed sneaking up on him. It was dangerously close, arm partially outstretched with its clawed hand aimed at his throat. But its eyes widened in shock when it met his.

“How-“ The demon had only been able to utter a single word before Kyōjurō unsheathed his sword and swung it up in an arc, beheading it in one smooth motion.

Both the body and head dropped with a dull thud and no more than a few seconds later, the orbs began to flicker and distort all around him. The hazy fog that had clouded his mind the entire time began to clear up as well. Something loudly clattered to the ground behind him and he couldn’t help but flinch at the sound, already instinctively knowing what it was.

Bracing himself, he slowly turned to look. You were nowhere to be seen and instead, a life-sized doll lay crumbled at the spot you had been. The red dress you had danced with him in only moments ago now hung loosely from its frame as its glass eyes stared blankly ahead. Seating himself next to it, Kyōjurō carefully took the doll’s cold hand into his own. With the glow from the orbs now gone, only the moonlight was there to shed light upon the cracks that'd begun to form along the doll's porcelain limbs, and his heart clenched painfully at the sight. He took a shaky breath as he averted his gaze, choosing to look up at the moon instead.

“I’m sorry, but please wait for me a little bit longer.” He whispered, praying that his words would reach you somewhere up there. “I.. I cannot join you just yet.”

He could feel it now, the way the hand he held had begun to disintegrate. He looked down just in time to see the remaining fingertips crumble away, his hand left grasping at nothing but air.

This was almost too much to bear. Kyōjurō hadn’t expected this to be as painful as the first time he had let you go. It was just a doll, the mere product of some demon’s Blood Art. And yet, he felt so empty and powerless as it slowly vanished in front of his very eyes.

He watched as the last of the ashes rose up into the sky, leaving him with nothing but the shattered fragments of an already fading dream.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku #kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #x reader #angst #honeymoon un deux trois

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diorncoke · 9 months

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Your my little sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey⋆˙𖤓⟡˙⋆ (1/2)

🫧⋆｡°✩ summary: in the moments of being under the influence of a man who averaged out the death rate of an entire state, Stefan is tangled in finding a comfortable home for a sweet girl who has the status he hadn’t heard about in centuries.

authors note: goddess, i had a fanfic about this years ago, and i didn’t go anywhere with it. so here is that tiny space in my brain that wanted to post this :) — word count: 7.8k

🌞 characters: the vampire diaries \ college au! , jeremy gilbert , / x black! fem! little! reader .☀︎ ݁ ˖

🌞 content warning(s): no set plot line, some use of y/n, talks of anxiety attacks, reader is a wolf pup, stefan & damon being big brothers, baby babbles, ¡male lactation!, use of rattles (i want one so bad), fluff, mentions of weapons, bottles, nesting, swearing, protective tatted jeremy, littles are knowledgeable, cliche asf ;) — third person pov!

🌞 before reading: her outfit, pjs & bottle , https://pin.it/2eS7TCc , https://pin.it/5VSFrm0 https://pin.it/4DQNyfF

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ The sun reached its peak before completely shining on the state of Michigan, New Orleans, specifically in the small town area of an infamous bar owned by the well-known witch in the area. Gloria is a flamboyant soothsayer, and many would describe her as charmingly intelligent with looks that have the appearance of only being forty years old. Though she wasn't anywhere near, she was more than a hundred years old, though she was not immortal.

She held the tasks of the spirits coursing through her fingers that allowed her to create many mixtures to slow down the aging she would have been subjected to. The world she accepted was due to her knowledge of mystical objects and the magical arts she knew best.

In the area, the day was ending, while for Gloria, it was just the beginning of a long day of watching the town folk drink themselves silly at barely noon. She began by noting out the invention from last night and checking for any fruit flies that tried to find homes in her classic liquor bottles. With her wooden clipboard, she walked around the remaining spaces behind the bar running her own rancid on the boxes. Considering it to be finalized, she threw the clipboard inside a drawer before pulling out a wine glass before she eventually poured herself a small glass of Chardonnay.

The witch felt the vibrant flavour of the white wine flourish against her dry thirst perfectly. She could age the wine with access to the best wineries in the area; who would care for this damned bar like her if she wasn’t alive. With a deep breath, she gathered the bottle and glass to its rightful place, still tasting the sweet tangle in her mouth before she took it upon herself to unlock the doors without having to walk over.

She began to walk against the bar edge before she heard the bell on the top of the door ring announcing its presence to the owner. Her back faced the bar top, placing tiny red straws into cups. It had only been a few minutes of opening before she felt folks pouring in; her bar was a classic spot with plenty of folks from over a hundred years ago still coming in and out. The perks of knowing a witch in the area to keep her young, she couldn’t imagine the looks of her ancestors as they watched her as closely helping wolves and a select few humans.

She smiled to herself, thinking of her past family before she took it upon herself to drown herself in an ageless potion to pause her aging, though she knew it would catch up to her eventually. Thinking so profoundly, the hairs on the back of her neck formed a light chilling breeze feeling the presence of something beyond human. Gloria was adept at reading people and the energy they gave off into the world; she had to. Bad energy minimizes the effect on the corners of the bar she saged with.

“What brings you here? You brought a friend, I see.” She announced her knowledge to the being before she could even turn around to face him. She plopped her hand around the cups of straws to place them behind her to the top above the seating arrangements for customers.

Gloria looked up towards the infamous Klaus Mikaelson in all his glory; she didn’t have to try and give off confidence as she held the powers of her ancestors. With one flick of her wrist, he would be forced out of her bubble alongside his friend without a second thought. She took in his body language, the glint of desperation in his eyes, looking behind to the clear picture of him and the former man she had known as Stefan Salvatore. A ruthless man who forced a man to drink his wife’s blood while they laughed, though from the look of him. He looked dazed and under Klaus’ compulsion. A clear abuse of power right in front of her. The damned wolf needed something from her, witches were always pulled into vampire drama.

Before she could ask what the infamous Klaus needed. He beat her to it.

“I need help locating a certain necklace. That my dear sister lost.” The sister in question scoffed from the front door of the bench she crossed her legs against. Gloria crossed her arms, hearing the beginning banter of the sibling just like they did in the 20s. She flared her eyebrows towards the hybrid, reminding him that he genuinely wanted something from her; he would need to be serious with her. If not, get the fuck out of her bar and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

“Hmm. Give me your hand, sweetheart.” Gloria raised her hand, awaiting the vampire to do so. The sooner she did this, the quicker she could get them out and away from her upstairs home. She grasped the soft blonde’s bloodied hand into her own, instantly feeling the dark shadows of the vampire's mind. Her first heartbreak being of a father’s betrayal, brushing his children as though they were nothing. That said, she was only here on behalf of her brother and the undying love she mindlessly had for Stefan. With a deep breath, she placed herself into the powers the necklace had for itself, scouring into the universe, looking for its source before her search stopped. She had placed the energy perfectly in a matter of time.

“There’s a girl with her friends.” However, she got more than she liked to lead. The perfect carbon copy of the woman known back then as Katerina Petrova wearing the original witches necklace dangling between her chest as her friends watched her stir a pot of chilli. The atmosphere surrounding the doppelgänger when dark as she placed herself in her energy bubble, burning the girl's flesh harshly before her ancestors pushed her out of the vision. She opened her eyes, feeling goosebumps erupting between their hands across the til of the bar.

“Yes, a dead girl with dead friends if I don’t get my necklace,” Rebekah spoke out, still feeling Gloria's hand intertwined with her own. Before the witch let go of her, standing further back from the trio of vampires. The feeling she received was not something she was used to when it came to doing spells. It was dark; even though she fused into old voodoo, this was something she wouldn’t allow herself to tap into. Regardless of what the damned wanted her to do, she needed a plan. It wasn’t only her that needed protecting.

“That’s all I got. Just images. I need more time.” Gloria truly believed she had the upper hand in giving the vampires what they wanted. She needed time, so she pursued Stefan to understand why she did what she did. In hopes, he would take in the reader who lay sleeping in the connected house without a care in the world. Continuing the notion of confidence placed her hand on the same glass she had only placed underneath the bar top. She pushed the glass of wine in between her lips and drank. Though it did nothing to tolerate her nerves, it tasted good. From the glasses eye, she watched Klaus debate giving her what she wanted before Stefan took it upon himself to take the attention away from the witch.

“Hey, you know, why don’t we just come back later? I’m hungry. I’ll let you pick who we eat.” Stefan filled the void with an enthusiastic voice while walking to the front door. Knowing the siblings weren’t looking, he scrunched his eyebrows towards the drinking witch, understanding without much words from the way her heart was beating. Stefan couldn’t help but want to know more, regardless of the circumstances of his humanity that was destroyed like a light switch. When he looked at the witch, it reminded him of Elena, the desperate look behind her chocolate brown eyes that wanted nothing more than to embrace in her soft hug. Stefan knew it wouldn’t be the same after turning the one thing that brought everything back on, but this was the first step. He wouldn’t be the man he was being compelled by.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ It was effortless to make the Mikaelsons believe Stefan had betrayed the bonded trust of what Klaus mistook as a friendship. He forgot the truth of their connection is a clear abuse of power in the twenties and used his vampirism to create fantasies that fuelled his instincts he knew deep down were of his true nature. Although it made Gloria sick to her stomach, the feeling that he could rip her throat out in the second of vulnerability. She still took the correct herbs and mashed them grinding bowl speaking to the ancestors above with nothing but salted intentions in her words.

She created a sinister scenario that led the siblings in thinking the vampire had fled to find refuge in an unfamiliar place they would seek for enough time too distracted by petty things to realize Stefan was in the outs of Michigan. A lengthy time before her dear one would be blessed in sanctuary from the darkness of that damned hybrid. Though here she was in front of the door that reminded her of what could change the rest of her life and sharing that with a vampire was something she never expected. When she first met the reader she had all intentions of harming her as she wasn’t welcomed in a place she sacrificed everything for.

All the ageless nights to be disrupted by a broken window and shattered glass she refused to let the reader allow to seep her bare feet into. She had no shoes. Gloria took a deep breath and reminded herself of the severity of the current situation.

“Stefan, do you understand that in these circumstances, I will kill you with my bare hands if she is not taken to safety? Right?” Gloria has no room for doubt or frolicking regarding the very thing behind this door. The witch was not one to keep the reader so hidden for a long duration; it was perfect, though; she had a late night practicing her shifting abilities. The memory caught her in a frenzy of smiles before the witch remembered to unlock the multiple locks on the flowery door across the stairs to the bar.

“Of course. I remember you. I’m sure you’ll do much worse. I want to understand why you have chosen me?” Stefan asked hesitantly, leaning next to the door and awaiting the dreaded conversation between them. The vampire watched her fumble with the keys to each lock before beginning the discussion. He blinked softly, crossing his arms against his chest.

“You can be good for her. Or I trust you will find someone who is. My aging remedies can’t stop the aging from catching up to me much longer. I’m getting too old to take care of her.” Anyone in the listening distance could hear the pain straining in her voice, thinking of leaving this world before she could help her little one find herself again and have the ability to be small. Gloria placed the multiple keys into the loop of her denim jeans, giving Stefan one last look over. She wanted her words to linger in his senses; this was impotent to her and her ancestors. She would not give them the impression of disappointment.

The supernatural entities heard the locks click into the ears before Gloria pushed the door open lightly, not wanting to scare the little one behind it if she had still been sleeping.

Stefan stopped in his tracks and recalled a developing scent of wolf pups that was still undergoing growth before he could get a glimpse of them. It wafted into his sensitive nostrils before he took a deep breath taking in the sweet flowery scent wanting to keep it under his nose for the rest of his immortal life. It was divine and filled with life, something he couldn’t quite comprehend behind what he surrounded himself.

Gloria looked behind her, taking in the vampire's reaction to her little one. She smiled before clicking the light switch that only turned on the fairy lights across the walls, as the pup was quite sensitive to light fixtures that beamed into her eyes. The colourful area of strawberry shortcake decor covered the entirety of the room she could barely remember the colour of the walls or floor presences to her.

The witch took a light step towards the bed covered in plushies that the reader loved to cuddle against and scent. Her favourite one to do so was of a cow named Print; he was a special thing that if you pushed a button on his foot, his stomach lit up with stars on the ceiling. Close enough to the pup, she removed the picnic table printed blanket from the reader's sleeping state. Anyone could tell she was still a pup as she didn’t wake up alarmed by others entering her room.

Gloria looked to the side of her to see the pup she had been trying to wake up with tender swats on her back and bum. Her pretty doe ( eye colour ) opened up to the familiar face above her cradling face.

“Who is she? I haven’t seen littles in centuries. How did you find her?” Stefan hadn’t uttered a word in some time. He couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t vaguely remember when everyone had taken in people with smaller headspaces to fill the void for the undermining issue of no children for quite a while. The man stepped into the occupied territory before closing the door quietly, letting the question linger for an answer to meet.

“Hm. Her name is y/n. The poor thing was sent to kill me. Many folks in her pack believed she was an abomination and sent her to kill a witch. They hoped I would kill her. Boy, were they wrong? I fell in love with taking care of her. I don’t have any children of my own, you see.” Gloria believed the spirits called the reader to herself, guiding her through the hardships of life til she finally found someone who cared for her. Which is why she is the woman she is today. Gloria glanced towards the girl before taking a deep breath, knowing Stefan was not here to hear the whole story. However, she might have been wrong. The heavy vampire's eyes glanced at her baby beyond anything she had seen from the first time she met him. It was soft but short, knowing he had a reputation to uphold despite having no humanity.

“What happened to this pack?”

“I burned every single one of them to the bone. It took a lot, but I did it to protect her.” Gloria smiled, maneuvering the little so she rested against her shoulders rather than flush on her lap and pillow. She pushed her nose against her freshly washed hair, breathing in the brisk relaxing air surrounding her. It calmed her down in ways she didn’t know; coming into this room was a breath of fresh air. She would miss the comfort of her.

“I’ve kept her far too long from a pack. She needs one, Stefan. She won’t survive much longer with just me.” Before the vampire could speak, she quickly stated how long the reader had been away from the ritual of piling clothing and items; she loved to create the perfect area for a quiet hibernation. The reader's old pack was big on the little ones to ensure they were comforted in ways that some had seen as prehistoric for this day in age. Doing so was the first time in years of waiting to be found by Gloria that she created a nest. Gloria grimaced, feeling the painful memories of her pup during the nightly hour of how she craved to cuddle into her neck and scent her as pack members did.

“I will help you. I know someone who will take her in.” He heard her plead, thinking someone he had broken the heart of would understand his place in the vampire empire. He would beg on his knees to Elena after seeing the beautiful little creature grasping Gloria’s hand. Though, deep down this would be the perfect distraction to his whereabouts if they had a little one to take care of.

Stefan watched the witch place her black nail tapping the pup's squished face against her shoulder as she blinked slowly and softly, taking in the presence and warmth through the connected skin. The yawn, so simple yet cute from her chest, left a pout on her lips from the dryness that came with it. The blanket was sitting perfectly, squished around her legs and stomach though he could still see the flare of freckles on the reader's shoulders and stomach that were out, dancing for his eyes to consume. The vampire was attentive to everything she did, including the deafness of not hearing Gloria introducing him to the wolf before him. Eventually, seeing her ( eye colour ) eyes turn towards his own with a hint of curiosity. All he could do was place his sweaty hand on his pants to get rid of the wetness that came with being in this room.

“H-hello.” He called to her, seeing her sit up more comfortably in Gloria's lap. She fiddled with the hair in braids with her pink-coated fingers, twirling around each lock before she gave the courage to smile at the man. Before she eventually hid her face into Gloria's shoulders with a giggle. She was adorable in his eyes, though he wasn’t sure what to do. Was he supposed to continue standing awkwardly, or maybe he should sit on the chair on the opposing side of the bed? Though he didn’t sit unknowingly for long as Gloria picked up on his hesitance.

“You can sit. She’ll want to scent you eventually. If that’s alright?” Gloria asked, hoping it would be something he was comfortable with; it was something she did as not only a greeting but a nighttime routine when it came to accompanying a new member. They watched her lean away from the witch's lap and chest, awaiting Stefan to grasp her hand into his own. In doing so, she couldn’t help but try and place his hand close to the bottle that was empty on the side table he was sitting beside. She was building up quite an appetite.

“H-Hi.” She made sure to use her manners like Miss Gloria taught her. Her voice came out much more reluctant than she anticipated, she hadn’t seen many visitors in her time here. Most of the time she played by herself in her room or sometimes watched the people of New Orleans walk the street at nighttime. She gazed upon the burly man, taking in his presence that made her wolf whine on the inside. Something about his scent notified her that there was a part of him missing. Before she could dwell longer her mama interrupted her train of thoughts.

“Would you like to feed her?” The witch questioned, hoping he would, it was unfortunate, but she would have to understand she would no longer be the one to take care of the reader. Her heart was crushed just thinking about removing the littles' favourite pieces in the room condensed into a tote bag within the hour. Smiling sadly at the precious pup in her arms playing with the vampire's fingers, she distracted herself by creating a bottle of pure milk into the once empty one on the side table.

“Up and about. There you go, my little love.”

Stefan smiled for the first time in a while since he had given his humanity to Klaus without repercussions or any thoughts filling his mind thinking of the death of the love of his life. Before he could think further he felt the flush of the wolf's head find its way to his shoulders awaiting the bottle he held with no use from him. The previous scent of her hair crème against her raven skin was heaven-sent, he couldn't imagine comparing this to anything else. He breathed in deep that savoury scent he could relish in for the entirety of his life. It was almost off how comfortable she got in his arms and scented him, so different from each fight he had with vampires and full grow werewolves. The pup was so trusting or the most obvious was the fact that her caregiver was only a foot away and held powers of a thousand witches in the palm of her hand.

“It’s now or never Stefan. She’s getting fussy.” Gloria became fond of the quick response to her words the vampire had. The man maneuvered the reader close to the inner elbow of his arm, cradling her head against it for support. Before he began aligning the bottle to her already open and starving mouth and soon she began suckling. They both heard the sounds that resembled a baby drinking its mothers' nutrition in the early morning before starting the day. In other circumstances, Gloria would begin feeding her while walking to the common areas of the apartment to collect the things the little one would need to start the day. Or the reader would do it herself when she was feeling older.

A hesitant smile formed on his lips holding the reader's head against the left inner elbow not before using the gentlest touch to move the strands of curls that stuck out against her face. With a deep breath, he scooped up the bottle that mysteriously had filled with warm milk into his right hand aligning it to the hungry little one in his arms. Stefan observed her movements like he was sightseeing, her lips covered the nipple of the bottle before it filled her mouth with droplets of milk filling her growling belly. The sounds of tiny suckles filled the supernatural entities with pure joy. The thoughts of keeping the image of being this ripper disappeared into the room's environment into nothing. This moment here was something so beautiful he didn’t want to give her up to Damon and Elena.

Pushing these sinister thoughts away he watched his hands without much knowledge of what he was doing, to the side of the reader's hips in a rhythm he memorized his late mother used when he was younger. He could feel the pup's chest vibrate liking the sensation of his rough hands patting her soothingly. Soon enough she engulfed the bottle in twelve consecutive minutes leaving her mouth to make a recall sound letting him know she was finished.

Knowing of the routine Gloria grasped a cloth into her own before placing it on Stefan’s shoulders. Connected eyes with him she nodded, watching the vampire softly place the reader's head on his shoulder to burp the pesky bubbles out of her belly. He laughed to himself seeing the eyes of pups closed calmly and how her legs were like jelly against his torso. It was quite a sight.

Once she burped out anything that was stuck in her throat watching her mama pull away to cloth before she squished her face into Stefan’s neck. She hoped to stay in this crevice of his body for a while, none of her stuffies gave her this feeling, maybe because they weren’t real.

“She likes you.” Gloria beamed sadly holding the empty bottle, getting up smoothly border taking her leave of the room. She had to prepare to clean and pack a bag for her little one. As well, to make a herbal tea she would ask Stefan to have her drink from time to time to protect her energy. She hoped the deranged hybrid won’t find the lost wolf pup as he would change her to be like him like the speed of light. Fuck she couldn’t bring herself to just abandon the poor thing, she would need some form of an excuse to see her every month.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ Damon swindled his way against the chilled bathtub of the bathroom connected to his bedroom. His back barely hit the cool bottom of the tub before he began looking for a more comfortable position. The man being over a hundred forty-five vampires had its kinks and one of them was stubborn on his back and neck. The damned thing clicked out of place at any given moment after he had fought an idiot who dared to attack the drunken asshole. He tense before letting out a sigh in content, it wasn’t long before he pulled the bottle of champagne from the bathroom floor into a glass.

A swift swallow in relaxation reminded him of the times he was human, laying out against the grass and the sun beamed on his milk skin for hours before he was rudely pulled out of that blissful state by his overbearing father. Maybe that was why he was the way he was, the dammed. The recoil of his fathers' disapproval secretly mended him to the vampire he was today. Godsend. He began distracting himself from his thoughts of his personality that somehow some tolerated by pouring an overload of bubble bath that was scented of husk from dear Elena into the bath. The white substance coated the body deliberately, pure relaxation was a must in this state. Hey! vampire can like bubble baths too.

Though, there wasn’t much he could think of when he was left alone with his thoughts running wild into spaces he concealed with impulsive decisions without thinking about the consequences for anyone involved. A common goal was all that he knew and clouded his judgement, like Elena. How much she wanted to know here Stefan did with his time while being in the presence of an original vampire that tortured for fun.

Damon lived for torment but when it came to his brother, who would come back into his life to take the girl he loved right back out from under him. He still wanted his little brother, the one who banter amongst either of the Mystic Falls humans they still fought like hell for. He laughed to himself getting sentimental placing the glass of champagne on his lips and taking a long sip.

It didn’t last long. His eyes plummeted at the sound of his front door opening, heavy footsteps and a scent of something he hadn’t smelt covered his nostrils more than the bubbles did. Damon gritted his teeth, swirling his head in distaste before forcing the bottle of champagne on the floor lifting himself to stand tall. The suds fell slowly down his body promptly to his feet that extended outside the tub. His motion cause water to pool onto the floor, though it would dry he would be dammed to know who entered the Salvatore home unannounced. Adding to the fact they ruined his needed self-care.

Before departing to the area where he knew the culprit would be, he placed a black robe around his body and tied the given straps on top of his waist. Damon made his way underneath the bedside table that hid a wooden stake for the times Katherine made appearances. He felt his weight shift between each step to the downstairs corridor before he became dazed with a familiar scent. The vampire was quick but cautious in his movements as before he wasn’t sure who had made their way into his home but now he was. The husk of a teenage boy sat alarmingly quiet at the fireplace, facing the floor before Damon stepped on a cracking piece of the floor. He was quite surprised by the confidence of the dead Jeremy Gilbert who was here to try his best to kill him that awfully made stake he was fiddling with. Thank goodness he wasn’t really in the mood to fight ninja turtles right now.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Damon questioned allowing it to linger in the boy's ear before he walked closer to the bar table to pour himself a drink of course. The teen looked as if he had seen a ghost, the man knew of his presence before he did. Jeremy sucked in a breath through his teeth removing the hoodie that was placed on his head. His black shaggy hair flopped on his forehead peeking through it. He thought lengthy to what the man had stated to him, his sister was preoccupied with Stefan’s whereabouts to know he was planning on killing Damon with the poorly made stake. Neither did he expect the vampire to continue pouring a glass of bourbon picking one up to give to him. They both sighed contently in each-others presence drowning in the sorrows of their siblings' absence.

“Did you come here to kill me? You’ll need a better weapon.”

“It’s only fair you did kill me.” Jeremy gave a smug look on his face knowing he wore a ring that prevented him from meeting the other side of being amongst the living. Although the facade was seen by those who looked close enough, he was constantly reminded by the trip there left him cold, leading him to understand he was meant to look for his body. His against the odds of staying in this state for too long could lead to him being stuck. Although Jeremys' body was close, he still felt his soul shift energies leaving him eerie and dark trying to find something to fill that void. He thought by killing Damon it would.

“Look I don’t do the big brother thing very well. Sorry, I don’t have any milk and cookies to offer you.” The brunette bit his lip feeling a heavy ache on his shoulders hearing his words. He knew to never expect anything less from the vampire, but maybe if he gave him some sort of closure he wouldn’t have been struck by gloom. It was almost like a cloud of it shadowed his being with no regard for why it sat polished on his shoulders.

That once smug look on his face turned sour.

“Dick.” To pick up where he left off he stood abruptly from the chair he sat in, taking his final departure from the Salvatore boarding house. The sound of the glass that was once being held in his hand alongside the stake felt broken on the carpet. The teen couldn’t care less about the mess he was making in a vampire's home, the guy was an asshole and he didn’t deserve his sisters' attention or the unrecognized love she had for him. There was almost steam coming from the top of his head from the fumes, he took one look back at the vampire before he finally walked his way to the front door.

A deep breath came from his chest pulling on the door handle, however, he didn’t expect to see the unpredictable.

Stefan Salvatore standing with his hands in his leather jacket. He liked almost the same except for the worn look of fatigue on his face, it showed heavily underneath his eyelids. The age of being under the compulsion of a damned hybrid they forced those around him to be the same. Klaus and his ways didn’t care about the ones that sat and were forced to watch. Jeremy couldn’t mask the shocked face he displayed to the vampire without thinking back to the question of why he was here, to begin with. How much more shit could Elena deal with before she snapped at seeing him again?

“Jeremy.” Stefan's voice sounded nothing less than smug sighting the shocked look that struck on his face. The act of surprise was something the vampire secretly loved when it came to victims thinking they were safe then he would display his presence to them. It wasn’t the same way as he looked Jeremy, the boy had grown taller from what he could imagine was only four inches higher than himself. Though was the young Gilbert even at the boarding house, to begin with? Had Damon had him under some stupid spiel to get Elena in his good graces?

Stefan bit his tongue from using his uncontrollable words in the man’s presence that he knew was sitting on the couch facing the unlit fireplace. He took one last breath before asking Jeremy a simple question so he could ask his brother for a favour. Though before he could the boy beat him to it.

“Damon you might want to come here.”

“Look, Jeremy, I’ll say I’m sorry. I’m not good with this whole thing.” Damon took several steps to the entryway of his home before his words died off at the end. He felt frozen in his spot, he indeed didn’t expect to see Stefan again after the star he left in. Was he here with the hybrid? The vampire shrugged his arms over themselves displaying his distaste for him to come back to Mystic Falls too soon for Elena’s sake. With a glance to Jeremy who had a look in his eyes, he bite his tongue before speaking.

“And what are you doing here Stefan?” Damon questioned smouldering the non-existent attendance he had in his mind. He caught his brother unattended looking at the parked car that was sloppily parked in the driveway. Hearing those words, Stefan took a step back, he of course knew his presence would strike some nerves from everyone but to see it on full display alarmed a certain part of his brain to push itself to the surface once again. He had been fighting it all day. His humanity. Not only from the wolf pup that would probably be waking up anytime soon from the unmoving car for something to eat. But to pass by the places that he and Elena would always visit. Goodness, he needs to get out of Mystic Falls before he goes back to Klaus and smells the humanity on him.

“I need a favour.”

“So you show up unannounced asking for a favour? Fuck off, Stefan.” The young Salvatore flared his eyebrows close to the gap between his eyelids, he couldn’t recall a time he was genuinely unhappy to see him. Border he lashed out from the scoff that came from the door almost being slammed in his face. He watched Jeremy move his foot forward before the gap closed between the two worlds. The boy walked in front of Damon gifting the man a look to go on pleading for whatever this favour would be.

“Wait here. I’ll go get it.” It? Was it some silly little book that would eventually curse all the bloodlines that so happen to be inside the boarding house? They both gave each other a look before watching Stefan gravitate toward the truck that we most definitely not his. With a deep breath, he placed his hand on the truck handle pulling it open to reveal a distressed little one that was biting the surrounding areas of her fingernails. She had been awake a lot longer than he intended, he felt so bad knowing she was strapped between the seatbelts and blanket he pressed into the sides of her legs. The tears that silently streamed down her face didn’t help the decision he would make by leaving her with his demented older brother. Maybe instead he could have him convince Elena too, goodness this was all just a dumb idea he got way too in over his head.

But as he looked at her grabby hands she gave him and the thick lashes that were smudged against the tears, he swallowed thickly. Y/n didn’t deserve people debating on whether or not she would have a life of comfort. He began removing the blankets and then the seatbelts to formally place her against his chest so that if he needed he could high tail out of there before any of them could taint her mind. The reader's tears became yesterday's problem once she felt Stefan’s finger swipe the water away from pooling against her freckled cheeks. Then her head was softly placed against her newly favourite place between his shoulder and neck with a soft hand on the back of her head. Before she felt the soft blanket she was once cradled against on her back once more. It was her favourite scent, between Gloria and her bed back home with her. She kissed her already and it barely was a day.

“I have people I want you to meet. Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay?” Stefan looked down at the girl's cradled figure on this side of his chest awaiting a response before he turned around to face the curiosity of Damon and Jeremy. He smiled softly to himself at what his current state was, a little in his arms while holding a diaper bag filled with everything she needed. If you would have told him this is what his life would look like a year ago, he would have looked at you as if you were crazy. He felt her nod against his chest before he eventually took a step to not only close the truck door but to face the entryway of the Salvatore boarding house.

Damon was the first to react to the newcomer in the man’s arms, pushing his way between the doorway his curiosity taking over everything he was planning on being. He truly didn’t expect to be in the sight of something so small in the presence of someone like himself. The vampire took a step back to observe from the sidelines watching Jeremy behave differently. He took it upon himself to grab the bag from Stefan’s left hand. He picked up on the scent of something he hadn’t smelled since he killed Mason Lockwood in this very home. Though it struck of something lighter and less potent as if it was smaller. This being was a pup of a werewolf pack but didn’t smell of though it was currently a part of one.

Jeremy couldn’t help himself from taking the tiniest glance at the bundle of joy wrapped in the thickest blanket he had seen attached to none other than a vampire that had almost killed his dear sister. He proceeded to walk into the living room to place the light pink diaper bag next to the couch. Y/n took in the world around, the deep darkness of the wooden panels that filled the unknown place that Stefan seemed so familiar with. She scented the place with a wiggly nose before her breath caught in the back of her throat feeling someone come close enough to grab her baby bag. Was this man a thief?

“H-hi.” She broke the light silence that filled the room she was walking into, on top of the fact that her mama had always told her to be nice to those who deserved it. She lifted her head slightly getting a better look at the brunette who was somewhat human in the room of supernatural entities. No one could deny the atmosphere of the room change as she was softly placed on the couch away from the warmth of Stefan’s chest and neck. She kept a small smile on her face pacing her tiny hand in front of the blanket that was tribally placed on her lap and socked feet.

“Care to explain?” Damon questioned allowing it to linger in the air barely taking his eyes off the wolf pup on his couch. He gripped the robe closer to his skin, gifting them both his signature smirk that would work for those under his charms. The vampire took a glance at his little brother, the worn fatigue and clear deepness under his eyes from the lengthy trip of being Klaus’ pet. The slight cherry hue on his lips from the possibility of ravishing a human before coming to Mystic Falls. He couldn’t acknowledge the unknown scent that seemed to come full force through his heightened senses.

Stefan took a slight breath before he dumped everything that happened in last hours since he left high and dry from Mystic Falls all together. He carried himself from his standing position to sitting himself next the little that was already hoping he would. The reader was already appreciating his presences and the beautiful ring that sat on his finger she liked to play with.

“Would you mind taking her to the kitchen to grab a snack for her, Jer?” This surprised him completely he hadn’t expected himself to be so fond of someone’s feelings despite his humanity being on the outs. The vampire couldn’t help himself in doing so, he continued to hold her hand for a few seconds with a dewy smile on his face. Before he gasped the bag was on the floor of the couch to hand to Jeremy. He jerked his head towards the kitchen awaiting his response before hearing the boy tell her about the animal-shaped crackers she never had before in the cabinet.

( No one cares about their banter. NEXT!)

The reader wrapped her tiny hand in between the unfamiliar male's hand feeling the light texture of tattoos she subconsciously traced with her painted fingers. She could already feel the rising warmth that came from being head to chest with the waking figure towards the deepness of the kitchen. It was beautiful, though it seemed to be unused compared to the one her mama had. All she recognized was the raging amounts of alcohol on the opposing sides of the sodden stools in front of the counter. The wolf began to lose the skip in her steps as she felt the man slow down his pace. She took a glance upwards to gift the man a small smile, though he was already looking at her feeling nervous by his gaze she lifted her other hand and gifted him a small wave.

“Hi. I’m y/n. Y-You’re Jeremy, right?” It was weird just how comfortable she was being pooled into those pretty chocolate soul catches he called his eyes. She felt him move his gaze over her face causing a slip of a stutter to come front at the end seeing him do so. They both stood in from the counters of the kitchen taking in each other's beings while she took in his delicate human scent she hadn’t been around in years since with Mama. Jeremy almost had a heart attack hearing the words she stuttered over, licking his dry lips trying to find the right thing to say to her. He noticed that he was still holding her in comparison to his small hand didn’t help.

“Yeah, I am. What do you want for a snack, little lady?”Jeremy shook their intertwined to regain her attention from his face. Although he would never consider himself cocky in any way he still smirked internally after seeing her blink away her dewy eyes away from his. He pulls her hand once more finally taking the long awaiting stop to the fridge for her to see. The reader took in the minimal amount of snacks and drinks that were in it. She knew they were vampires by holy was there only a half-full orange juice container, a cartoon of eggs and expired milk. Although she was disappointed she removed her hand from Jeremy feelings intensely cold from the action to proceed to open the diaper bag to find her favourite snacks.

She handled him the basic puffs of strawberry banana bites that quite literally melted in her mouth. Not even acknowledging the mess she created in the bag she continued to display the puffs to Jeremy who gladly opened the container not before popping one in his mouth to her distaste after handing them back to her.

“Can I have some orange juice?” The reader questioned the man messily eating standing chest to chest to the man liking the feeling of his fluffy sweatshirt on her cheek. Her chin rested perfectly there looking upwards with that stupidly cute dimple that showed, switching between each eye of his to look a tiny bit closer. Jeremy pinched his fingernail on his palm looking down at her chubby cheeks and light wash of powder from the puffs. He reminded his hand from the sides of his body to lightly brush away the powder that stuck to her lips and slightly in her cheeks.

“Uh yeah. Why don’t you go sit in the chair, okay?”At first, watched her struggle to climb on the spinning chair but gave up in the mix of it. The man took it upon himself to quietly ask her if she wanted any help. So here he was softly placing his hands underneath her armpits to lift her to sit against the chair. The warmth of each other's skin to skin gave off a rumble between each-other chests that could have easily been mistaken for a hungry cry. But to a wolf pup, it was something completely different in her eyes. She began by taking in his eyes like they were meant to uphold hers, before feeling the chilled barstool he ever so gently placed her on top. They both felt instantly disappointed without the skin to skin but she still happily thanked him for doing, kindly offering him a puff in his much larger hand. Jeremy could help but smile at a small gesture, he took a step back to the opposing countertop to look at the diaper bag that he had previously placed on the dining room table a mason jar of vervain and herbs assorted inside, taking a glance back to y/n that was currently swaying her legs to the hums of her own throat. He turned back around to look at the mixture not thinking much longer to crumble them inside the juice before closing it back up and shaking it to face the girl.

“Maybe we can hang out sometime? Away from the supernatural, the vampire kind at least.” Jeremy placed the bottle to her lips as her hands were occupied by the puffs and looking around distracted by none other than himself. Still suckling on the off-tasting orange juice, that chilled her dry thirst as she began to nod at his question. He removed the bottle from her mouth allowing her to gift herself with the glory of his, all she thought of was how much she would love to be lifted by his arms and held close like she was with Stefan just a moment prior. They looked into each other's eyes warmly gifting one other a smile before they both liked away.

Across the home in the living room, two vampires listened closely to the little one's mannerisms toward the unseen boy and the way he spoke softly and seemed so smitten by one other so quickly. It was clear that part of herself was called to the boy named Jeremy. Gloria was right, he might have been the thing to encounter to meet the person who was perfect for her.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ part two

🫧*ੈ✩‧₊˚ I hope you enjoyed it!! 💗 please don’t be a silent reader, let me know what you think⋆୨୧˚

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mrmallard · 5 months

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So with my James Somerton post yesterday, I expressed how miserable it all made me feel. The constant plagiarism and the weaponization of his fanbase is such a fucked up thing, especially now we know that he was covering for his own wrongdoing by harassing people who came across it. HBomberGuy seemed pretty miserable by the end; he made a pertinent point about how many people were overshadowed by Somerton's actions, and the lengths he took to steal their hard work and pass it off as his own. For a man who claimed to care so much about the erasure of queer men through history, he did a lot of fucking erasure of his own, including against gay men and their contributions to culture. It's a really fucked up and depressing thing. I don't have the heart to meme about it.

That's not me going "memeing about James Somerton is bad, think of the victims!" - that's just me describing my own perspective. I already feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I don't need to steep myself in all that right now - but anyone else can meme away.

The main concern I have after seeing that video and hearing about everything that's happened is how to rebuild. There's been a great wrong committed. How do we try to fix that and make it right? I think it was good for HBomberGuy to not only split his ad revenue proportionally between the victims of everyone's plagiarism, but to highlight other queer youtubers - some of them victims of Somerton's theft, others not. Personally, I'd like to do that too, because I really like their work and it's something I can do to try and make a tangible difference.

For my money, I want to highlight Alexander Avila, Lola Sebastian and Kat Blaque. Much like what I saw of Somerton's output, I saw them mostly through third-party apps with pop-up windows on touchscreen devices (Pi Music Player, and then NewPipe).

---

I think the first Alex Avila video I saw was "Why Can't Celebrities Queerbait?". To my recollection, it was a video that began with some recent news about a young actor who was criticized for playing a gay character in a TV show, to the point of being bullied into coming out as bisexual before he was ready. Another example was the woman who wrote the novel that "Love, Simon" was based on, which has an unfortunate overlap with James Somerton's wrongdoings.

The core of the video is about the misuse of "queerbaiting" to refer to a celebrity "appropriating" queerness, when queerbaiting is a media term for when a queer ship is dangled in front of a receptive audience only to be yanked back to keep the audience hungry for more. And Alex gives examples of this, the largest example being Teen Wolf. It's an extremely well-made video, and I thought Alex made a great point about how you really don't know a person's sexuality until they spell it out themselves. It's been a while and I might be misremembering this, so take this with a grain of salt, but I also remember a point about how bullying people out of the closet isn't the diversity win that some people think it is.

He also has an incredible video about how he was a transgender child, growing up into a transgender man. idk if this is a weird thing to say, but it's an absolute must-watch video. The video he released after that is another really good one, it's the one that HBomberGuy pointed out - it's called "TikTok Gave Me Autism: the Politics of Self-Diagnosis", and it's an incredible, poignant video that taught me a lot about the continuing stigma towards neurodivergency and the backlash against both neurodivergency and self-diagnosis through a proxy backlash towards modern social media.

Apparently, becoming a New Zealand citizen is next to impossible if you have an autism diagnosis - I had no idea. My plan was always to try and move to NZ if Australia goes to shit; given my own suspicions about my neurological state, pursuing that could end up turning all my plans to shit.

Another great video essay YouTuber is Lola Sebastian. The first video I saw of hers was a video called "The Absurd Horror of Marge Simpson". I didn't really like it, it's got a lot of like avant-garde bits, but it was good background noise for playing Runescape and it led to me finding a much bigger body of work which I really enjoyed.

She had a video called Problematic Fans which is unlisted now, it's been too long since I've seen it but I remember liking it. I've seen her video about Call Me By Your Name multiple times, it's an incredible breakdown of that movie as well as the stuff about Armie Hammer. More recently, I really enjoyed her video about Bones and All, juxtaposed by the backlash to Twilight's "softening of vampires for the sake of trite romanticism" in its heyday. It does break down Twilight, including its exploitation of the Quileute people, while also discussing a recent movie called Bones and All - a movie that's been review-bombed for, allegedly, being "Twilight but with cannibals". This video is probably the only video I've seen in years that's made me actually want to seek out and watch a movie.

I haven't seen a lot of Kat Blaque's videos lately. I did recently see her breaking down that SunnyV2 video basically shaming MrBeast's transgender friend and saying that MrBeast is gonna fail unless Chris quits the YouTube channel. What I remember the most about her is that she's got a few storytime videos about her dating life, and looking at her channel she does a lot of topical videos about media, the internet and queer issues.

I remember liking Kat Blaque's storytime videos for being personal and open, and she talks about stuff like misogynoir and her experiences as a black trans woman. This isn't a perspective I see often, not as a white Australian guy in my real life or in a broader community of video essayists. Her videos seem to be about half an hour on average, at least her more recent videos - definitely check out her videos and see if you like them, they're a good length and I think she has a lot to say. I'm just sorry I can't go into more detail.

---

My mental health is pretty bad rn. I was running on fumes yesterday and watching over four hours of video content about YouTube plagiarism and James Somerton specifically really fried my brain in a way that I really didn't need. Me saying "I can't deal with the drama behind James Somerton" and all that isn't like a Moral Stance against what's happening - I'm just at my wit's end with everything in the world right now, I don't need to immerse myself in all that right now.

But I've seen what happened, and all that is a part of me now. Probably a very unhealthy way to feel, but I've dipped my toe into it all and this is the conclusion I took away from it.

I don't want to be a part of the cancelling or the tearing down. Does James Somerton deserve backlash, to the point of losing his following? Based on what we've seen, and what I personally believe about the situation, yes. But that side of things isn't my scene. I want to help repair the damage and rebuild what's been lost in the wake of everything that's happened.

And I want to express that while James Somerton, his rampant theft and the negative effects of his actions are trending right now, I think that people who are currently focusing on tearing James Somerton down for what he did should consider joining the effort of building up a base for his victims and for other queer YouTubers - if they haven't already.

Do you have to follow Alex Avila because James Somerton ripped him off, no. Is it recompense for what happened with Somerton, probably not. But I'm recommending Alex Avila because his YouTube videos are really fucking good. I'm recommending the youtubers I recommended because I really like their videos. For any tearing down that's happening right now, I want to rebuild something more positive in its place.

I want people to watch videos like Alexander Avila's video about the politics of self-diagnosis, I want them to see Lola Sebastian's video about Bones and All. I want them to enjoy Kat Blaque's storytime content and - like myself after I finish this post - watch her most recent videos and see how they like them. If you enjoy video essay content, these three channels make really good videos, as do the other YouTubers who HBomberGuy recommended at the end of the video. I want any of my own input in this ugliness, at least past the point that I've already commented, to go towards building people up.

So consider checking out Alexander Avila, Lola Sebastian and Kat Blaque. Also consider checking out Princess Weekes, apologies for the late entry but she does some great videos about media and fandom. Their videos are a great way to fill in the time, and after the dust has settled, I hope they get a bit of a boost in attention if nothing else.

#james somerton #long post #messyposting

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sunflowerdarlingx · 2 years

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Steve Rogers - His Girl Intro

(18+)

Hello lovelies, I hope you're all looking after yourselves. This is the intro to my new Steve Rogers Series and I just wanted to see if there would be any interest in it.

Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader (she/her pronouns).

Warnings: murder, blood, physical violence, think that's it.

Minors DNI

Chapter One

Steven Grant Rogers was feared by many in New York. He was the king of the land and anyone who dared to interfere with his business would end up with a bullet between the eyes. Demanding, intimidating, serious and harsh were just some of the words used to describe the mobster. His business was the most important thing to him. Very few dared to cross his path, the police and politicians were on his payroll and no other mafia dared to cross him.

Steve never hurt anyone innocent, just those who did him wrong. He stood up for what was right (in his eyes) and protected those he cared about. He saw himself as a reasonable man, one who would always listen before taking action - unless you really pissed him off.

Steve was currently sitting in a meeting, his right hand men Bucky and Sam sat behind him. Sitting straight in his black leather chair, Steve's jaw ticked. His black suit hugged his muscles and showed off just how big he was compared to some of the other men in the room. Dark blonde hair was slicked back and his beard was trimmed to perfection.

In front of him sat various terrified men. Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth of firearms were stolen from one of Steve’s downtown warehouses. John Walker was currently blaming every other man in the room for the weapons ‘disappearing’ and took no responsibility for what happened. The warehouse was his responsibility, Steve trusted John to watch over the area.

John Walker was supposed to be in charge.

“Y’know Walker, I’m getting really sick of you putting the blame on everyone else.” Steve stood up and shrugged off his suit jacket before placing it on the back of the chair. His hand moved to rub over his mouth and beard in one quick motion.

“You were the one in charge of the safe house, so unless someone in this room can tell me what happened..” Steve paused to look around the room at the other men before looking down at John. “You, John, will be dealing with the consequences.”

John opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, trying to think of an excuse, any excuse to get Steve off his back. Steves glare hardened in seconds and he pulled his gun out of the holster that sat across his shoulders.

“M..Mr Rogers” a voice squeaked from the corner. Peter Parker was shaking like a leaf, tears filling his eyes in fear of what the infamous Steve Rogers was going to do to him after calling him by name.

Peter had seen Brock Rumlow, a member of a rival Mafia, on the corner of the street talking to Walker on the night the weapons went missing.

“Yes Parker?” Steve barked, his head snapping towards Peter. Steve's gun still rested against Walker’s head.

Peter mumbled, his words caught in his throat as fear consumed him. “Spit it out” Steve spat harshly when Peter didn’t speak again. With a deep breath in, Peter finally found his voice again.

“I..I saw Rumlow o..on the corner, with Walker on..on the night the weapons were taken. I wasonmywayhomeandIjustfiguredthatWalkerwastellingRumlowtogetoffourstreets” Peter

suddenly forgot how to talk again, his words coming out stuttered as his word vomit began.

Peter spoke fast but Steve heard every word and before a beat had passed a bullet was put through Walker's thigh. An agonising cry filled the room as Walker grabbed his leg. Steve, quick to put his gun away, pulled John up by his collar, “Did you sell them to Rumlow?” Steve’s tone was harsh, his voice low as he waited for a response.

A forceful punch sent John’s face in the other direction as Steve waited for an answer, “Well?...Did you?”. Another violent punch met John’s face.

“H..he made an offer I couldn’t resist” John spat out, his eye already swelling shut while he spat some blood out of his mouth (along with a tooth… or three).

Rage consumed Steve as he pushed Walker to the floor. Within seconds his gun was back in hand and a bullet travelled between Walker's eyes. Everyone in the room watched the whole ordeal in silence, no one daring to intervene or try to stop what Steve was doing. They all knew the second Peter spoke up that Walker was a traitor.

Steve put his gun on the desk, his hands moving to take off his holster and shirt that was decorated by John’s blood. He nodded towards Bucky and Sam who made quick work of getting rid of John and the rest of the men in the room.

“Parker”

Peter spun around so fast, almost giving himself whiplash. “Yes boss?” he squeaked before clearing his throat and standing up taller.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Could have saved me the hassle of losing 450K.” Steve began buttoning up a new shirt as he spoke, a brow raised at the brunette's direction.

“I..” Peter looked down, “You trusted John to be..be in charge of the safe house. I was worried you wouldn’t believe me” he stuttered out.

“Kid..” Steve started, “if you ever see something that’s off, you gotta say.” Peter was shocked at Steve’s response. “You’ve got good instinct, a sixth sense. I need that. You’ve got the safe house. The men there will be under your orders and anyone who doesn’t do as you say will face the same fate Walker did… Trust yourself, if something is off, tell us. Do that and you’ll work your way up the ladder here pretty quickly.”.

Peter smiled before putting on a serious face when he saw the way Steve’s brows furrowed. “Yes boss,” Peter nodded before leaving the room.

Steve wasn’t just the leader of the biggest Mafia in New York, he was the CEO of his family's business. His business savvy is what brought his Mafia family to the top and it was his own instincts that were going to keep them there.

Once the Walker situation had been disposed of, Steve and his two right hand men decided to head out for some lunch. Exiting the private estate in a private plate SUV the men travelled to a small Italian restaurant on the outskirts of town. They were seated at their usual table by the owner Mr Falcone, an older gentleman and ordered three neat whiskeys.

The three men had been coming here since they were young and had bonded with the owners, a married couple from Italy who opened the restaurant when they first travelled to America. The men began to converse discreetly before ordering their food with Mrs Falcone who graced them each with a loving kiss on the cheek and a hug when she greeted them.

“Ahh my favourite boys, where have you all been?” she kissed Steve's cheek before moving to Sam, “it’s been too long since you've been here” she scolded and soon found her way to Bucky, “I’ve missed you” she pinched his cheeks.

They engaged in small talk before a group of women walked in. Mrs Falcone excused herself and made her way to the door to welcome them in. They were seated a few tables away from the men and some of the women blushed as they made eye contact with the handsome mafia men.

One of the women caught Steve’s eyes. She appeared to be the quietest of the group, not having said a word the whole time they had been in the restaurant. He thought she was gorgeous, breathtakingly beautiful.

He gazed at her, watching her eyes light up and a smile take over her face when one of her friends turned to tell her something. Her eyes were gentle and matched her facial features. She wasn’t his usual type, a bit plumper in some areas but that didn’t bother him one bit. He watched as she engaged in conversation with Mr and Mrs Falcone (the pair always tried to get to know their customers) her luscious lips capturing his attention.

“Steve” Bucky knocked his shoulder against Steve’s to draw him back to reality.

“What?” Steve hissed, frustratedly moving his gaze away from the woman at the other table.

“I said you’re drooling” Bucky let out a boyish laugh and ruffled Steve’s hair.

Steve had been best friends with Bucky and Sam since they were young and they had always had each other's backs. Their parents were all involved in the same Mafia family so it was only right that the three men joined them when the time came.

While Steve was the one in charge, his best friends both played big roles within the business. Sam was in charge of the money side of things, making sure all the calculations were right before deals were made and Bucky, well Bucky was the muscles.

All three men (and the men and women within their organisation) were fit and ready for any form of fight - mental or physical but Bucky was a different breed. If Steve ever needed to intimidate someone then he would send Bucky. Even if Steve was in the same room, it was Bucky who threatened people with physical violence - the metal arm he had since his early twenties being the thing people feared most.

“Fuck off” Steve grinned as his gaze wandered over to the woman once more, watching as she excitedly opened some presents that her friends had put on the table. It was normal for the men to tease each other about women, it’s what they had always done.

“She is cute” Sam hummed in approval as he surveyed the group of women, “and so are her friends” he sent a wink towards one of the others at the table.

Bucky called over Mrs Falcone and asked his favourite lady what the presents were for.

“Oh, the one with the presents just graduated, a teacher” she said cheerily “isn’t it lovely to see young women achieving their dreams, look how happy she looks”. Mrs Falcone looked over at the table with a big smile as the women cheered their cocktails in celebration.

Steve nodded in approval “very lovely indeed”, his tone shifted as he looked over at the women again “give them a bottle of champagne from us, actually make it two. They’re a big group” he smiled up at her.

“Oh you boys” she ruffled their hair “such good boys” she clapped cheerily as she walked behind the bar and got the bottles along with 3 more whiskies for the men.

Once the bottles were taken over to the table the group of women looked over to the group of mobsters and giggled when the three men raised their glasses. The girl Sam winked at invited the boys over and who were they to say no to a table of gorgeous women.

Steve made sure to sit beside the teacher, a small smirk growing on his lips at the way she blushed.

“Congratulations, I’m Steve by the way”. He held out his hand to her and she gently shook it.

“Thank you, I’m Y/n” a small sweet smile graced her features before she got distracted by the commotion of the rest of the group introducing themselves.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers series #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #mob!steve rogers #Mob!steve rogers x reader

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oh-my-im-ply · 2 months

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This is another post which isn't completely ply focused, but I want to take a second to point out the overlap between people who are transmisic and people who exclude/invalidate mspec lesbians.

Last week, I made a post where I mentioned being a polysexual lesbian, and I made a few mspec lesbian pride flags. Yesterday, someone asked if I was polysexual or a lesbian.

On this blog, we have rules for interaction, as well as rules for mods to follow. At the very top, we have a rule against exclusion and invalidation towards good faith identities, and a rule against bigotry and dogwhistles. However, we will answer questions when they may have been asked in good faith.

So, I answered with this:

Both. I'm attracted to many genders, but not binary men, so I find that polysexual and lesbian both describe my orientation well. Other people may identify as a polysexual lesbian for other reasons.

After I answered, the mask came off, and they started being transmisogynistic and nonbinary-exclusionary, and weaponized the existence of bimisia against me. I deleted their comments and blocked them last night, so I can't copy what they said word for word, but I will repeat their key notes under the cut.

CW: bi erasure, exorsexism/nonbinary-erasure, transmisogyny, mentions of genitalia

"This is what people mean when they talk about bi erasure. You're erasing bi people."

This is a complete misunderstanding of what bi erasure even means. Bi erasure is when you ignore (the existence of) bi people, or outright deny their existence. These are some examples of bi erasure:

Erasing or ignoring bi history.

Saying that bi people need to just "pick a side."

Saying that bi people are secretly straight/secretly gay.

Saying that bi is just "a transitional orientation" or "a phase."

Redefining the broad definition of bisexuality without the consent of the bi community, especially with the intent of telling people that they "aren't really bisexual" or replacing the bi label.

Saying that "everyone is a little bit bisexual," especially with the intent of erasing bisexuality as a distinct category. This can also be a form of erasure against people who aren't bisexual.

Note that "identifying as something other than bi" is not a form of bi erasure, even if you might "technically" fit the definition... Because that is a matter of personal identity.

But do you know what is a form of bi erasure? Erasing bi history. Mspec lesbians (particularly bi lesbians), have existed for decades. It is not a new identity, and bi women and enbies have a right to identify their attractions to women as lesbian attraction if they wish to. The exclusion of bi people from the lesbian label began as a form of bi erasure. It happened because of separatism and political lesbianism, and an idea that attraction to men "tainted" people, or was a "betrayal" to feminism. It happened because of bimisia.

The word "lesbian" has served as an umbrella term synonymous to "sapphic" for over half a century. You want sources? Here you go.

Miller, Trish. Lavender Woman, Vol. 2, No. 5. Lavender Woman Magazine, 1973. "What is a lesbian? To me, a lesbian is a woman-oriented woman; bisexuals can be lesbians. A lesbian does not have to be exclusively woman-oriented, she does not have to prove herself in bed, she does not have to hate men, she does not have to be sexually active at all times, she does not have to be a radical feminist." Ferguson, Ann. Patriarchy, Sexual Identity, and the Sexual Revolution. Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society, 1981. "Lesbian is a woman who has sexual and erotic-emotional ties primarily with women or who sees herself as centrally involved with a community of self-identified lesbians whose sexual and erotic-emotional ties are primarily with women; and who is herself a self-identified lesbian."....."[My definition] defines both bisexual and celibate women as lesbians as long as they identify themselves as such and have their primary emotional identification with a community of self-defined lesbians." Kafele, Dajenya Shoshanna (1991). Bisexual Lesbian. Archived from the original on July 25, 2022. Queen, Carol A.. Strangers at Home: Bisexuals in the queer movement,. 1992. "A great many bisexual women, particularly those who are feminist and lesbian-identified, have felt both personally and politically rejected and judged by the separatist sisters." Kafele, Dajenya Shoshanna. "Which Part of Me Deserves to Be Free?". Bisexual Politics: Theories, Queries, & Visions. New York : Haworth Press, 1995. ISBN 9781560249504. "Personally, I am unable to separate out the various ways that I am oppressed (as a woman, as an African American, as a bisexual lesbian, as an impoverished single mother) and say that one oppression is worse than the other, or that I desire one form of liberation more than another." Wyeth, Amy. "Don't Assume Anything". Bi Women: The Newsletter of the Boston Bisexual Women's Network. Vol. 5, No. 2, 1995. "Unfortunately, many of my experiences as a lesbian-identified bisexual woman have said to me that having an appearance or demeanor that diverges from the expected means I will not be accepted as truly belonging in the lesbian community. Despite my attendance at gay pride parades, dollars spent at gay resorts and in support of gay causes, and numerous attempts to participate in gay and/or lesbian groups and volunteer events, I have often felt unaccepted by this community." Holleb, Morgan Lev Edward. The A-Z of Gender and Sexuality. Jessica Kingsley Publishers, 2019. ISBN 9781784506636. "LESBIAN — A woman who is sexually or romantically attracted to women. Lesbian can mean women who are attracted exclusively to other women, but it is also a broader term for women and femmes who are attracted to other women and femmes. This includes bisexual and pansexual women, asexual women who are romantically attracted to women, and non-binary people who identify with womanhood." Lesbian. The Trans Language Primer. Archived from the original on October 22, 2021.

Does this mean bi people have to identify as lesbians, or "aren't actually" bi, or can't just identify as bi? Obviously not, and I never said that was the case. That would be bi erasure, because that's policing bi people's identities and forcing them under labels that they may not want to be included under. But in the circumstance that a bi person also identifies as a lesbian, they have every right to do so. Bi-inclusive definitions of lesbianism have existed for at least 51 years, and still exist today.

"Attraction to men, binary or not, means you're not a lesbian."

See above for why the lesbian identity is not always dependent on a lack of attraction to men, binary or not. But lets focus on the nonbinary part specifically:

Nonbinary people can people included in lesbianism and lesbian attraction if they want to be. Yes, that includes all nonbinary genders. Even if attraction to men inherently disqualified a person from lesbianism, nonbinary genders cannot be confined to binary gender rules (even when they're aligned with binary genders) because they're nonbinary. Treating nonbinary genders like they're "functionally the same as binary genders" is a form of nonbinary erasure, regardless of gender alignment.

Whether nonbinary people are included in lesbianism or not is entirely up to each individual nonbinary person regarding their own identity. It is not dependent on the gender label used; it is dependent on how each nonbinary person feels about it on an individual level.

The implication that manhood inherently dominates and erases the rest of a person's identity is also troubling. If you accept that nonbinary people can be included in lesbianism, you must also accept that nonbinary men can be included in lesbianism. A nonbinary man is still nonbinary; their manhood doesn't erase that.

As a pangender lesbian, I've had to deal with the experience of people not only erasing my enbyhood, but my womanhood as well, because they think my manhood is the only relevant aspect of my identity. This is misogynistic and exorsexist, plain and simple, and people use this misogyny/exorsexism to tell me that I'm not a lesbian.

With all of that said, nonbinary people (of any gender alignment) are not always comfortable being included in lesbianism. This is why I describe myself as both polysexual and a lesbian; the polysexual part of my orientation acknowledges that my attraction to enbies can't always be described with my more binary-aligned labels.

And funnily enough, while some people tell me that I can't be a lesbian and can only be polysexual, other people tell me the opposite. So clearly, there isn't a consensus on which label is "correct" for me.

"If it has a dick, you can't be a lesbian."

This is just blatant mask off transmisogyny, and it's the main reason I blocked them. Do I even need to explain what's wrong with this? Even under a strictly monosexual definition of lesbianism, this statement is just false. Being attracted to people with penises does not equal being attracted to men. If a lesbian is exclusively attracted to women, including women with penises, that lesbian is attracted to only one gender and is not bisexual or mspec.

Any gender can have a dick. Lesbians can have dicks. Women can have dicks. The presence of a penis or lack thereof is not a defining trait of lesbianism, nor monosexuality. And for fuck's sake, maybe don't call your hypothetical trans woman "it"??

"Mspec lesbian" does not mean "lesbian who is attracted to vaginas and penises," and if you think that's what it means, you need to educate yourself. Yes, this includes any people who might identify as an mspec lesbian because of that transmisogynistic definition.

This blog is an inclusive space. If you come in here to spew bigoted or exclusionary nonsense, expect to be blocked. Think before you speak, and please read our rules.

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