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#how do you have a fan blog and then go and do that the scary face is not real
faunandfloraas · 3 months
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Full offense but fans who get to go to fanmeets or performances and get close enough to take pictures and then proceed to whitewash the boys or maybe even face app their features so a nose looks smaller or sharper, skin texture is non existant, etc etc. Are literally bastards to me. You don't deserve to be there.
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coulsonlives · 3 months
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For self-proclaimed leftists, some of y'all seem weirdly comfortable with telling people to kill themselves
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dreamermonica · 1 year
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you belong with me !
when someone else approaches their partner, how do they react?
—includes itoshi rin, michael kaiser, itoshi sae
—gender of reader isn't specificied, fluff, established relationships, angy bllk boys, mentions of creeps, unwanted contact and such. first post in this blog, hope everything goes well!
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all hell goes loose when RIN catches sight of another person gripping your wrist—especially when you look utterly terrified and confused. they dare to touch someone that is leagues above their own, someone that's already taken by one of the most well-known soccer players in the world, and do it without the bare minimum of consideration for your own feelings? in that very moment, he only sees red.
quickly apprehending the cause of your discomfort by ripping the person's hand off of your arm and retracting you to his chest with a small oomf from you—a harsh glare burns onto the person's face. you could probably see the intensity of his stare just by looking at the person's horrified reaction.
“who are you to touch them like that?” his airy voice brings comfort to the erratic beating of your heart, your tense form slowly melting in his hold.
right now, he doesn't care that he's attracting unnecessary attention. the crowd that's slowly forming around the commotion he'd caused is the least of his problems right now. sure, it'll probably ruin the stealth of your date but he needs to see this insignificant pest to drown in shame until he's satisfied.
“rin—it's fine. this type of stuff is normal, let's just go, hm?” you probably sensed that he was ready to take it a step too far, and when he kills down the glare on his expression to look at you properly with his usual indifferent eyes, you heave out a sigh of relief.
tugging on his coat, you smile at him nervously. “c'mon now! let's resume our date before anyone recognizes you!”
contrary to the usual soft and compliant rin you're used to, he does not budge an inch. seemingly glued to the floor after your words. “what did you say?”
“...huh?”
“before what you just said right now. you mean this type of interaction is normal?”
with how intense his stare burns into yours, you grow sheepish each passing second—hand reluctantly raising to rub the back of your neck in confusion and slight bewilderment.
wait, he didn't know that until now? how are you going to word this properly without sounding sensitive? “well—uh, you see...you're like, crazy popular, and everyone knows i'm dating you, so of course i'd also grow popular too, and then you know you also have some of these crazy fans that hate me and—” you cut yourself off when you feel a familiar air of anger rise once more.
your lover does not reply, and only carefully brings out his phone to dial what you recognize as his manager's phone number—and very, very scary words coming out from his lips while shifting his stare back at the person who's now groveling at his feet.
his little conversation about hiring bodyguards and telling the media they're doomed for affecting your safety does not faze you one single bit. there's only one thought inside your pretty little mind as you stare at the dark expression of itoshi rin.
oh lord. what have you done?
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if there's anything KAISER hated more than anything, it would be when someone touches something, or in this case, someone who solely belongs to him. a emperor usually has his own certain treasures, and they're kept away from the hands and eyes of commoners and peasants for a reason. should one give into their selfish desires and attempt to take away his treasures—an inevitable treason is in line.
“what the hell is this? some irrelevant bumpkin treading where he doesn't belong?” with how loud and condescending the blonde sounds, you're certain that he's doing it so that it garners the entire room's attention.
a celebration party is held to commemorate bastard münchen's latest victory—hence the crowd full of friends and families of the football team's members alike are gathered, along with expensive investors and celebrities wanting to meet the famous aces of the country. funny acts committed in parties like these are not common, yet not all that uncommon either.
but it's mostly happens for the nobodies. who would even consider getting too friendly with the infamous partner of michael kaiser—who's offhandedly the embodiment of bastard in bastard münchen?
at the end of the day, it seems there's someone with more-balls-than-brains here in front of him. it's interesting, in a way. kaiser thinks as grins as the man's face contorts into a way that feeds his own sadism. the day was starting to get boring until this little failure came to ruin his—
a gentle squeeze on his hand halts his violent thoughts.
he cranes his neck to look at you with an eyebrow raised, your [e/c] hues glinting in a way that's telling him to stop whatever he's going to do before it goes too far.
contemplating options as the football ace glances back at the man drowning in shame amidst the sea of judgemental looks thrown his way, he heaves a deep sigh. one of defeat rather than disappointment. he's already well-aware of your forgiving nature.
“okay. i'll cut it out. but in one condition,” he looks back at you, squeezing your hand back as a smirk creeps on his face. “we ditch the party.”
“wha—? but isn't this whole event your idea in the first place?” you come nothing short of confused, hand still in his.
“meh, who cares.” he retorts boredly, snapping his fingers to call on forth the body guards hired for the party, before gesturing towards the man—kicking him out for the good and betterment of guests. “it was getting boring anyway. 'only hosted this event just so i could see you all dressed up.”
dressed up for his victory, he chooses not to add to spare your blushing face. that final goal he scored would've made his fans froth at the mouth if they were up close. he briefly wonders if you had reacted the same. er—most likely not, but a man can dream.
“you're so infuriating, you know that?” you comment without any malice, a small smile spreading on your lips when kaiser starts tugging you away from the room filled with expensive champagnes and rich ambassadors. almost feels like a daydream to run away like this, hand in each other while noa's scoldings fall on deaf ears.
a light laugh escapes his lips, “but you still love me anyway.”
he sends a playful wink your way right after, and you might just faint—knees weakened and all.
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SAE seems indifferent at first, blankly staring at the person attempting to woo you. is it of disbelief? disgust, even? whatever it was, he just kept staring while the person uttered the most horrendous pick up lines your poor ears have ever heard. you were too preoccupied in tuning out the person's musings to even notice sae moving towards you.
it sure is a pain to have an attractive s/o. the famous football player just went to the bathroom and he comes back to see another man kissing up to you like some dog whimpering for scraps of food. in this case, the scraps of food the dog was getting desperate for was your number. a shitshow, he thinks.
“sorry, but i'm actually waiting for someone.” you finally managed to formulate a sentence without the man cutting it off once again with his terrible lines. you forgo the urge to compare him to an npc designed to rizz up a rock. it was genuinely that bad. bad enough that the rock would probably grow legs just to get away from him.
“you've said that what, three times now? where's that person yer' talkin' about, huh?” the man leans closer while rubbing the insides of his ear, causing you to cautiously take a step back. god, a bath could really help this man, and he's right—where is your boyfriend? “just lemme hit now, you won't regret it one bit—”
a sturdy hand places itself onto the creepy man's shoulder, roughly, and i mean, roughly turning the man around to face a maddened pair of emerald hues. right before you and the man stands an enraged itoshi sae—one of the most well-known aces of the entire country. from the way the man stays paralyzed in his place, it's not hard to deduce that he probably recognizes the living and breathing legend right in front of him.
“out of my sight, unless you want things to get dirty.” the soccer genius is known to be level-headed and rational even in dire situations when it comes to within and outward of the field, so who exactly are you staring at right now?
the redhead coldly dismisses the man with a chilling glare, before approaching you with hands now stuffed in pockets, eyebrows raised as if to question your dumbfounded look. “let's get going. the grime is starting to rub off on me.”
ah, that's right.
you let him grab your wrist to drag you away, his demeanour doing a complete 180 as he asks about what kind of food you'd want to eat today, naming your favourite restaurants one by one whilst he tugs you around, ignoring the double takes of passerbys making sure they didn't just see sae itoshi in the flesh.
the man you're staring at right now...is your lover
the very same man who shut down the touchy feely dude earlier, not to mention him completely dismissing the entire situation as to not ruin your mood, the one who has all your favourite restaurants memorized, the very same guy who invited you out today because he simply wanted to see you and enjoy the day with you, the boy who chose you out of millions, and millions of admirers—
you're simply looking at your boyfriend, itoshi sae. not the genius revered by multiple nations, but simply a man who loves you just as much as you do to him.
a smile spreads on your face as you finally keep up with his pace, now beside him instead of being dragged around like a lost puppy. “hmm, why don't you choose? i'm feeling like trying some new today.”
“okay. we're going spicy then.”
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(ik bastard means like sword or smth for germans ok kaiser being THE bastard just sounded right for me)
edit; okay just found out bastard actually means bastard, it makes more sense now
ALSO YES I HC SAE LIKES SPICY FOOD
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edgeray · 2 months
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“LATE NIGHT DEVIL, PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME
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and never never never ever let go”- Teeth, 5 Seconds of Summer
Mafia AU! Arlecchino x Reader Oneshot
Author's Note: It's been a while since I've actually published anything on here. Well, my gay ass is back with another oneshot. This one has been in the works for at least a month. I'm considering making a Part 2, but that will definitely take at least a couple weeks for me to publish (if not months). I wish I was kidding. School literally hates me and my teachers are incessant on killing my GPA. This is also a gift for @megistusdiary because it'll be her birthday when I post this. Please go check out her blog for amazing genshin wlw content (especially Arlecchino content!) Would you guys like this on AO3 as well?
Content Warning/Info: This is a long af oneshot (6.3k words), long af descriptions and kinda long intro, Arlecchino is referred to with they/them pronouns, implied female but no usage of feminine pronouns for Reader, general dark-ish content, pet names, Arlecchino is a lil scary, I've never been to a club so I apologize for the very inaccurate information, nor have I ever been apart of the mafia so also inaccurate, a bit suggestive but otherwise sfw, if I'm missing anything feel free to tell me!
---
Monsters are said to have lied underneath beds–waiting to ensnare an unknowing victim–or stalk hidden among the depths of a closet–awaiting an opportune moment to strike its next prey. Monsters are fabled entities that are used to scare off children from bad behavior and are quickly eased from the mind by coddling parents. The mere notion of a monster shooed away like a pesky fly, swept underneath the subconscious like forgotten specks of dirt. 
You know otherwise. Real monsters don’t lurk on the undersides of mattresses; no, they lurk both in the skies above and the depths below. They do not stalk dark closets because they instead stalk alleys in daylit streets. Monsters are very real, that you know is true since you’ve seen your fair share of them. You’ve met monsters in person–they’ve come to you before. Terrifying is an understatement for them, and each time one has appeared as a client, you’re no less scared shitless.
You’ve learned that even inhumane demons find themselves in need of entertainment; like the sinful creatures they are, they seek self-pleasure. And that is how you found yourself in this particular circle of hell, meant to serve and please demons, devils, and monsters alike. Perhaps it was a revolting job, working at a strip club run by a criminal organization but it paid decent money for being danced on the fingertips of whoever you were unfortunate enough to be assigned to.
If it was a regular strip club, being an exotic dancer would have been fine. It wouldn't be so bad. Lustful and prying eyes can be accustomed to quickly, and so are the flattering compliments and the awkward flirting by middle-aged married men. However, there was a difference between lecherous and predatory gazes. Here, you aren’t even viewed as a person, no, the clients here, those that come in reeking of smoke or blood (though sometimes both), armed with knives and guns on their person, see you as nothing more than a toy or prey for them. Even in the eyes of your employer, you're less than human in their eyes. 
‘You harm our merchandise, you’ll pay for it,’ is the warning given to every guest when they first enter. Merchandise. That's what you are. And that single line of words is the only thing that assures you of your safety among mafia members, gangsters, crooks, and whatnot. You've heard that the organization behind this strip club does well in enforcing that rule according to other dancers, but you personally don't want to see if the statement is true. You've been here for a little over a year, and besides bruising grips and pulled hair you’ve surprisingly yet to be seriously injured in any way. So maybe monsters do have a little humanity in them. 
You're quickly growing to be a fan favorite as of recently, which means more money goes your way, but you're not sure how you feel about all the attention on you. It's most likely because of how often you offer private dances and private rooms to clients. Whatever gets you the most money; the faster you make money the faster you can pay off your debt and be out of here. 
Tonight is supposed to be no different from other nights. You perform on stage, you rile up the crowd, you get showered in tips, and if there is a customer that looks mentally sane enough not to murder you in private, you take them to the back. Except, tonight, you're approached by your boss, who informs you that the entirety of the club was reserved by the Fatui, a well-known mafia more powerful and larger than the one that backs you up, for some celebration. These kinds of occurrences in the club rarely crop up, but when they do, they're often the most opportune time to bag in an abundant amount of money. Big shots like the Fatui pay and tip well, but there's one unsaid risk that comes with this: as a mere dancer like yourself, your life quite literally dangles in the Fatuis’ hands tonight. The organization that owns this establishment can't retaliate against the Fatuis if they so choose to dismiss the warning. They can't even compare to the might of the Fatui.
Simply put, if a Fatui kills you tonight, no one could do more besides bat their eyelashes. You're not at all pleased with this predicament of practically bordering on death, especially when you know one wrong move with one too hot-tempered Fatui could land you at the pearly gates. Keep pleasing the crowd, keep entertaining them, keep racking in the money, you remind yourself as you continue your dance, twirling around the pole sensually, and the customers devour every movement with their eyes. The only comfort you're given is that you've heard the Fatui are quite reasonable and diplomatic most of the time. This is especially true for the Harbingers, you've heard, the twelve most elite members that serve under the Tsaritsa, and the ones that are the most exclusive customers this night. That doesn't mean the Harbingers are any more humane than the average crook. Having worked in a strip club run by the mafia and surrounded by criminal organizations, the more rumored something is, the more dangerous it is. They can be considered devils amongst demons even. That's simply how vile they're supposed to be. 
The most concerning problem about the Harbingers is that you don’t know what they look like, only the occasional whisper has alluded to how to distinguish between the twelve. Perhaps, you can survive through the night if you try not to draw too much attention; let the other dancers shine instead and hope you don’t get requested for a private room or dance. That way, you can ensure you don’t end up dead. 
Your time to go upstage comes sooner than you’re prepared for. Your hands are clammy, and your form trembles in a way that only happened during your first month. Both reactions don’t make for a very good combination when your survival relies on you not fucking up and disappointing criminal customers. As you approach the pole, just like every time you’ve done, you make sure that the crowd’s gazes are in the backdrop of your mind, and instead, fixate on repeating the movements you’ve been taught and have mastered with your experience. Bet your survival on the provocative sway of your hips, the practiced showcase of your legs, and the allure of your dancing form. Beguile the crowd, but not too much, just enough to wow them. From what you can tell by the volume of the crowd, you’re doing a good job pleasing the Fatui enough. Your body stops tremoring after a few minutes on stage, and with one last final push of courage, you focus your eyes on the crowd before you.
Unsurprisingly, the makeup of the Fatui are men, though there are notably quite a few women. Either way, all of their attention is on you. As your eyes scan across a crowd, for one reason or another, you stop at a particular set of eyes near the back of the crowd. Intent, pitch-black abysses stare back, like they were trying to bore into your soul and devour every single motion of yours. They don’t quite hold the same ravenous desire as many of those before you right now, you mentally note with curiosity. It feels like your form is being calculated, in the way a predator would cautiously observe their next prey, a sensation you’ve experienced a few times, but each is no less chilling. The weight of their engrossed gaze causes you to shiver momentarily, and you snap away from their disturbing gaze to prevent any fumbling or faltering while you’re on stage. 
Tonight marks the first time you actively seek out the same viewer while on stage, or even, during your entire time here. For some reason, you feel awfully bold, or curious, whichever two comforts you more, and unlike the meek little rabbit you usually are, you instead search for the viewer’s gaze. You find the pair of eyes with relative ease, as you remember that above their eyes are distinctive snow-white strands with streaks as black as their orbs. You take a moment to study them, and they remind you of a lion–or lioness–among hyenas. The aura they exude varied quite a bit compared to the other Fatui in front of you: not rambunctious, or arrogant; it's apparent they held an aura of indomitable authority just from the way they held themselves. Perfect posture with their clasped hands nested in their lap, with one leg raised over the other. They’re an embodiment of perfected elegance, however, much like a porcelain doll, they’re also expressionless, their appearance unmarred. You don’t examine the Fatui’s form for much longer because their scrutiny on you pricks at your skin irritatedly. 
You don’t look for them again throughout your performance. In fact, you hope you never meet those charcoal pits again. You’re afraid that if you do, you’ll be ensnared by whatever beastly claws or fangs you know that Fatui hides underneath that impenetrable mask. The moment your time on stage ends, you rush back to the changing room to shake off your nerves. You sit down at a nearby chair, taking in deep sighs as you attempt to forget how you were stared down like a you were cornered, defenseless animal. And that is what you are, as much as you hate it. There’s nothing that can protect you from the Fatui. Maybe if you hide, never show your face for the rest of the night, they’ll forget they ever saw you and they’ll target another dancer. Surely, that will work, won’t it? 
You’re able to steady your breathing before you can delve into a panic attack. Tonight, you decide, you’re not going to take any customers to any private rooms or take any private dances. You’d be missing out on a lot of money, but your life is more of a priority as of currently; not after the ‘encounter’ with that individual, you don’t want to think about how many more are just like them, hiding in the crowd like they were awaiting an opportunity to pounce on your vulnerable form. 
Unfortunately, it seems like someone else has other plans for you because your manager storms into the room asking for your whereabouts before his eyes narrow on you. You immediately sit up, stiff as a board when he practically marches his way towards you. 
"Someone wants you." 
You sigh and shake your head. You should have known. "Not tonight." 
He clicks his tongue. "You know I can't allow that tonight." 
You bite your lip. "Just pass them to someone else." 
"They're not someone you or I can refuse." 
"Who?" You question with a shuddering breath, your nails digging into your thigh. 
"The fourth one. The Knave. Lord Arlecchino."
Fuck your life. You might as well pull the trigger now. You’ve heard faint whispers of each Harbinger from the customers audacious enough to speak of them. The youngest, the eleventh, charming and boyish. The ninth, money-obsessed but a pretty looker. The eighth, elegant and cold, yet no less alluring. The seventh, as human-like as their robotic creations, which to say isn’t very. The sixth, is hotheaded and mysterious. The fifth, unknown. And the fourth?
Insane. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. That’s how the fourth is described. You shiver at the horrors that appear on the forefront of your mind when imagining what may come for you. If you're lucky, you'll be alive at the end of the night, more than likely clinging to the edge of living. 
“Well? What are you waiting for? Get ready as soon as you can.” 
And you do. It’s not long until you stand in front of the private room’s door, your guest is already inside more than likely. The Fourth Harbinger is waiting, you remind yourself, fruitlessly trying to swallow down your stress. You can be dead the minute you step inside, this room could be marked as your grave. Whatever he tells you to do, you’ll obey wordlessly to survive. Just nod along, smile, and do whatever it is that he tells you regardless of the demand. You inhale deeply, regaining some ease of mind, before you bring your knuckles to the door, knocking. 
“Come in,” comes a deep, flat voice, slightly muffled by its distance but what surprises you is how feminine the Harbinger sounds. Maybe you got the wrong room. You glance back at the room number plate on the door, and it’s the room you remember your manager mentioning. It’s the right room. Maybe someone else? You don’t have time to wonder, however, as you enter the room, knowing that if it is the Fourth, it wouldn’t be wise to keep him (Her? Them? You’ll just stick with ‘them’ now.) waiting. 
“Lord Arlecchino?” You inquire as you enter the room, closing the door behind you. Sucking in a harsh inhale, you instantly recognize their distinct hair. It’s them. Your sight is immediately greeted by the figure sitting on the couch before you, sitting in exactly the same way you discovered them–crossed-legged and lounging back with unfaltering confidence. The Knave wears a scarlet blazer over a black compressed turtleneck, with a matching set of crimson leggings. Upon closer inspection, you’re able to make out red irises in their jet-black eyes. Despite the blatant and literal red flag, something about their appearance draws you in even when they scream danger. They’re… you’re not quite sure how to describe them. You admire the unblemished and pale skin, their elegant and rugged demeanor is like the perfect balance between femininity and masculinity. Are they beautiful, or are they handsome? You think both. 
Arlecchino stares back at you like they’re considering devouring you then and there. You can’t suppress the shudder that runs down your spine. You’re a sheep before a wolf. There’s something so chilling about them that even with your experience with other clients, none has ever made you feel this way with just their mere gaze alone. This is what separates the average crook from one of the most powerful mafia members you've ever heard of.
You wait for a response but they only continue to observe you. You take the silence as confirmation to your question and that they’re anticipating something from you. Biting back a sigh of resignation, your hands hook underneath the band of your bra top and you lift it just the slightest amount before a cutting voice makes you freeze.
“What are you doing?” the Harbinger demands, their tone chilling and apathetic, making you want to shrink in yourself immediately. Your blood pumps loudly in your ears and your hands tremble a bit. Something about how designing their gaze makes you suddenly self-aware in a way you’ve never felt before another client–you’re practically half-naked in front of them with your skimpy bra top, undergarments, and fishnets and now is the only moment that you've actually considered how little covering is on you. 
Why are they stopping you? Isn’t this what they wanted you to do? Or maybe they just want to do it themselves. Those types of customers always have the most bruising of grips and suffocating of holds. You stiffen at the notion. How are you going to survive this night with a Fatui Harbinger of all things? How many of your limbs are going to be fractured and how many of your bones are going to end up broken? 
“I…I’m undressing,” your meek voice sounds out and you hate the crack in your speech. The Harbinger continues to scrutinize you. You don’t dare continue disrobing yourself. 
There are several beats of wordless response before they then stand up from the couch. 
Oh shit. You’ve fucked up. Are they going to kill you now? Is this your end? 
Every thought is telling you to run in the opposite direction as they stalk up to you, but you're petrified as you realize with a chill that they’re taller than you. You’re not short by any means, a bit above average height, but they tower over you, looking down at you from above and casting judgment on you like a god. Once they stride toward you, you avoid eye contact by looking straight, observing their neck and clavicle that protrudes from underneath the fabric. You tense when they raise a hand, their manicured fingers placing themselves underneath your chin and long, carmine nails dig into the underside of your jaw, making you wince. They forcefully tilt your head, raising your focus onto their face. 
It’s like they plunged their hands down your throat and ripped out the oxygen from your lungs, leaving you unable to breathe. Up close, the first thing you notice is their lips, plump and red from their lipstick. Briefly, you wonder what color their lipstick would look on your skin. Then your eyes travel up, red-crossed eyes gaze back at you and you gape quietly at the distinct shape of their pupils. You swear that their pupils flash red as you finally lock eye contact with them. 
“Did I tell you to?” Their tone is cold compared to the strange softness of their handsome (beautiful?) face. 
Something in your gut coils inwardly and you want to look away, but their firm hold on your chin prevents you. You bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. You’re delicate glass in their hands, and they can break you so, so easily. 
“No, sir.” Only the numerous times you’ve said this phrase ensures you don’t stumble over your words. They don’t answer promptly, but as they observe your features, their lips quirk up the slightest amount. 
“You know how to address me. Very good,” Arlecchino purrs after several beats of silence, in a low, oh-so-sultry tone, and oh. Oh. 
You’re not sure why, but their last two words make your stomach churn, but not in a discomforting way. In the way that lights a fire underneath your skin and spreads heat to every part of your body. You’ve never quite felt this way with another customer. You couldn’t believe that your body reacts this way just from a single praise but it doesn’t stop the pooling heat in your bowels. The chill down your spine still remains in place, but there’s an off-putting equilibrium of iciness and fervor generated from the client. 
The Fatui’s eyes stay fixated on you wordlessly until the hand on your chin turns your head, finally breaking you free of their intense behold. Their grip slackens so that they can trace their nails gently down your throat, every inch of surface their fingertips brush against ignites a blaze on your skin. A shuddering exhale leaves your lips and it seems like they take notice because from the corner of your eye, the small uptick of their mouth grows. Despite how sensual and probing the Harbinger’s touch feels, there’s nothing lecherous about it–purely just intrigue and fascination. It’s a touch you both have and never experienced before. Cold nails rake against your throat, not enough to mark or scratch, but enough to invoke shivers. 
You’re aware you should be terrified, but for a reason you can’t pin down, you can’t jerk away from their touch. You try to reason with yourself it was only because you’re one upset away from getting yourself killed but that reasoning falls apart when their hand gingerly traces your jawline and you make the softest of groans, a barely audible noise of content. Unfortunately for you, the sound seems to have reached Arlecchino’s ears and their expression softens slightly: their eyes narrow less and their brows aren’t as creased. And that smirk–if you could even call it that from how faint it is–becomes a half-smirk. 
They pull their hand away and your trance is broken, reality returning back to you as you remember that the person before you is still a Fatui Harbinger, no matter how bizarrely melting their touch was. They turn on their heel and walk towards the couch in front of you; the slightest bit of heaviness is placed on your heart. You remain stationary where you are, observing them as they seat themselves gracefully on the couch, and their attention encounters yours again. Their black pits hold expectancy in them. At first, you’re clueless as to what the criminal desires from you, but then their legs spread apart, an inviting gesture that beckons you and every rational thought leaves your easily swayed mind. Your heart skips a beat, and you're sure this time it's not out of trepidation. 
Even if you didn’t command them to, your legs would take you to their seating figure. You stand before them, feeling blatantly disrespectful to look down at Arlecchino, but you await their order. They lean back, lounging laxly against the couch, their posture never lacking their usual self-assurance. It only ties the knot in your gut tighter. You’re aware of what they’re instructing you to do, but the absent confirmation makes you hesitant. It seems like the Knave picks up on this because the room echoes with one definitive spouted word from their lips, authority and dominance ringing through their husky voice. 
“Sit.” 
Your legs buckle underneath you from the one-worded response, the demand only stoking the consuming fire inside you. Eager to please, you perch yourself on their lap, straddling them, your knees pressed into the furniture below you and encasing both of their thighs between your own. 
Oh, you think to yourself as your legs make contact with their thighs. They're firm. And for some reason, that provokes your stomach to churn in itself even more. You're so close to them, enough to feel their breath cascade against your skin. 
As you seat yourself, you nearly clumsily topple over, instinctively grasping onto their shoulders for support. Their shoulders are remarkably broad, you regard, well-muscled as well. Their hands creep up on your hips, steady but gentle hands grasping on each bare side of yours to stabilize you. The heat that radiates from their hands is infectious, regardless of the nails that burrow into your plush waist. For the first time, you flush considerably, a sweltering inferno forming in your cheeks and your head fills with dizziness. Their touch is gentle–something you rarely experience with customers–so, so gentle that you would describe it as heavenly. How can someone so inexplicably vile have heaven on their fingertips?
It's not a position you never found yourself in. In fact, it's far from the first time you've been like this with another client. But here, as you're sat on top of the Fatui Harbinger, and red x-pupils search yours, a foreign feeling passes through you. Placing your finger on it, you dubiously think it's bashfulness, but the heartbeat that sings in your ears and pulses underneath your fingertips tells you otherwise, tells you it's something more. Against that, you remove your grasp on their shoulders and place your palm flat against the couch’s surface behind the Knave. 
You squirm a bit, nervousness in your form as you remain as still as you possibly can, waiting for any more instructions. All you need to do is act like an obedient doll for them in order to survive; compliance is the best way of ensuring survival with people like these. You feel like you're merely eye candy from the way that their attention flits across your body, but you're immobile throughout the entirety of their observance. Being looked at is much better than any physical interaction. Their hands still cup your hips, but slowly, they descend to the side of your thighs, making your skin feel tingly. 
Impulsively, you mumble out a quiet "Sir…" as strange sensations brush against your skin. 
The sound surprises you and you feel on edge as their eyes travel from your lower half to your face. You gulp considerably. From their stare, they expect more of a response, a reason for their addressment, but even you don’t know yourself; it seems like an unconscious calling that just rolled off your tongue. You cow underneath their gaze, even when the two of you are at eye level. When you linger in quietude, their hand releases one of your thighs and lifts to your face, supporting your chin while their thumb rests on your bottom lip, unfurling it just the slightest amount to implore an answer from your now parted lips. Gleaming scarlet pupils grip your regard sternly, piercing into you and instilling you to spew something out. Except, you still can’t, now too entranced and lost in the crimson. 
“Doll.” 
Despite the pet name, it's devoid of any affection or warmth. It's a word that drips of command, a reminder of your place: simply a toy that they can play with however they want, a manipulated and decorated plaything for their amusement. That means you answer to them, and so when they request a response, you're under the obligation to please them. Your survival is in their palms anyway, if they wanted you to dance, you would just so they wouldn’t strangle the life out of you. 
However, its implication doesn’t prevent the tingling shudders that wrack your body nor the involuntary clenching of your thighs around theirs. Was it the gravelly voice that aroused your behavior? Your cheeks flare at the knowledge that Harbinger sensed the physical reaction. It shouldn't be possible. It shouldn't be possible, your thoughts repeat, but then they're interrupted by: 
"Oh?" Arlecchino inquires to themselves, a stark amusement in their speech. Their red glare illuminates slightly, replacing the lost darkening with a faint glow in their pupils, and the corner of their mouth curls up. It is only then that you discover something entirely new: that monsters can be sinfully, cataclysmically, terrifyingly beautiful and the sight before you is the most exquisite example. A devil has you wrapped in its claws and its fangs readied for devouring but it’s disguised as an ethereal angel; blinded by their perilous allure, you mistake their snow-white hair, their lustrous piercing rubies, their flawless porcelain skin, and their burning, fleeting touches as traits of a seraph. From a measly smirk, you forget the atrocities lying underneath their fingertips and dismiss the hazard their presence holds. 
The hand on your thigh rakes its fingers up, red nails trailing across the surface of your fishnet, wrenching out a breathy gasp from you as they travel inwards. Tingling pleasure injects into your veins as you subconsciously lean in, imploring for further sensual contact. A plea sits on your tongue and nests in your eyes as you beg them through your pitiful expression. They drink in your desperation with a slow swipe of their tongue over their lips, and that single action is debauched enough to elicit a soft groan from your throat.
“Well, aren’t you an amusing toy?” They drawl out with a preposing rasp and dark abysses glint with an insatiable hunger. 
They smirk enticingly, their thumb running across your bottom lip and smearing your lipstick on their thumb pad. Their grip on your chin tightens a bit, pulling you even closer to them before a shadow casts over you when their face nears. Before you can even fathom their intentions, they descend upon you, closing the distance between the two of you. Your lips are greeted with something pillowy soft and fervently warm, and you sharply inhale from the sensation. Every one of your nerves sings frenziedly, your muscles tense all over, and your heartbeat drums deafeningly in your ears–all of this as your body is engulfed in a fervid tornado of heat that makes you lightheaded with pleasure. It takes you several beats to realize the reason for this is that Lord Arlecchino, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave is kissing–no, kissing is far too intimate, devouring–you voraciously like they're trying to rob you of any air, trying to imprint themselves on your mouth. Their mouth dominates yours, pushing against them with a deep fervor and famished urgency, eager to swallow every bit of shocked noise you make. 
You close your eyes and allow yourself to indulge. 
You first taste lipstick with a waxy flavor hitting your tastebuds. It’s cold against your lips, yet warm at the same time. But the physical texture and flavor of their lips are irrelevant; there’s only one true manner you would distinguish their taste: 
They taste like sin. 
The type of sin that’s chocolate coated and sprinkled with colorful toppings; depravity so sweet and charming it makes you reconsider the bounds of right and wrong. Degeneracy is far, far tastier than anything you’ve indulged in before. How can something so evil be so heavenly? Cushiony soft, placidly warm, flatteringly zealous, it’s like having a dance with a devil; so unequivocally immoral but no less gratifying. You question if they really belong to the Fatui because how can something like this come from such? You want to engrave the texture of their mouth onto your memory, feel this faux intimacy even when you’ve long parted. The Fourth Harbinger, you surmise as you surrend your will to them, is decadent–the only word that can be defined as both wicked and delectable at once–the perfect word to describe them. 
The last remaining bit of reasoning comes to the backdrop of your thoughts and begs you to not be swept away in the heavenly embrace. You discount it in favor of accepting this godsent gift by leaning further with a weak imitation of their ravishing lips and pressing back. It’s a feeble attempt to match their insatiate nature, far too domineering and forceful than you can manage but they display a token of appreciation when they squeeze your thigh, indenting your skin shallowly with the burrowing of their nails. The action exposes just how sensitive you’ve gone underneath their touch and you reward them with the sweetest of sounds. 
“Arlecchino,” you mumble with half-lidded dazed eyes in between ravenous exchanges and it evokes a depraved throaty growl from the Fatui, like provoking a call from a starving beast. They lean deeper to indulge in your taste. The gruff sound reaches your ears and it’s like a psalm–you shudder from its musical melody. 
Their clutch on your jaw releases and their fingers outline your jawline before snaking to the back of your head. Well-manicured digits entangle themselves in your hair, and there’s a gentle shove against your skull that forces you deeper into the kiss. Your hands clutch onto the couch underneath you as tight as you physically can for any sense of grounding and your knees attempt to close in even more to feel more of their body against yours. The hand on your leg, in turn, caresses the length of your thigh. 
Every graceful touch, stroke, and brush exudes an unyielding and infectious warmth that only adds to the stoking fire in your gut, and you’re bathed in so much swelter from the ecstasy that you feel dizzy. Yet, you never want it to end, you grow more addicted and drunk with each encounter of their lips. That, paired with your strained breathing, prompts your stamina to falter much sooner than the Harbinger’s. You let out a soft whine to signal your depleting oxygen, and their mouth unlatch with yours, pulling away despite your ache for more. With the separation comes a small string of saliva attached between the two of you, evidence of the shared intimacy that’s snapped when they lick their lips. The hand behind your head detangles from your hair and you silently mourn over the loss of contact. 
You heave for air, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You’re a little perturbed when you notice that they’re not even out of breath, a small but firm reminder that they’re as inhuman as humans can be. That knocks a sense of reality back into you. Customer, mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, it comes back to you like a train. Here you are swapping spit with them while in the lap of potentially the most dangerous criminal you could ever meet, but fuck were they a good kisser–you’ve never experienced anything that came close to this in your lifetime.
Any foolish doubtful contemplation of the morality of this interaction is swept away just like that when you hear:
“Greedy little thing that you are,” they regard with the most cunning and handsome of smiles, discrete amusement dripping from their words. Their dark pits behold you entirely, the same way they have always done when it seems like they were contemplating what part of you to savor the most. Only this time, you’re not so disturbed by the notion. If anything, the swirling heat in between your legs suggests the opposite.  
Greedy wasn't a word often associated with you, yet you couldn't more correctly describe yourself in that moment. Greedy. Greedy for a Fatui Harbinger no less. As ashamed as you should be, there's no use denying that you crave for their touch, for their gaze, for anything and everything they're willing to give you. You want everything and more. The more you contemplate, the more it seems obvious why you wouldn’t. Are they a devil disguised as an angel, or are they an angel that fell from grace? Regardless, they bring nirvana to you. An incessant desire bubbles inside you, your throat swelling up with an urgent request on the tip of your tongue. Would they allow such a thing if you plead? Would they be offended by your impudence? Would they punish you for such? But the necessity outweighs any reconsideration of your insolence and the supplicant beg tumbles out of your loose lips. 
“Can I… touch you please, my Lord?” You croak out, wincing at just how wretched it comes out. The response from them is not immediate as the two of you stew in silence, a building sense of dejection inside of you. The expression on their face noticeably contorts, smile lessening, their brows furrowing, and their red x’s glinting dimly. Their free hand raises to near your neck and you suck in a harsh breath as their fingers enclose around your throat. The mere action sends a stinging reminder to your lust-dazed thoughts about their position, and a chill pierces you. 
Mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave–the labels cycle through your thoughts. Though their grip is lax, not exactly suffocating and giving ample space to breathe, their fingertips does acutely jab into your skin, a display of their impressive grip strength. You have no doubt that they can suffocate you with one hand alone, snap your neck, or, as your mind ventures into more harrowing territories, crush your skull. Those thoughts alone has you breathless with anticipation. A heavy weight suddenly appears in your gut, so heavy that you feel like you can’t move so much as a muscle. 
Did you just go too far? Was that too much to ask? Was this how you were going to die?
The reflex to gag and inhale combat each other in your throat, a discomforting sensation that crawls up your spine while you tremble. You’re almost certain that the nails have penetrated the layer of skin, drawing beads of blood that’ll trail down your mark. You whimper at the prickly pain. Yet, in all your unease, the most masochistic thought arrives briefly at the forefront, and you can’t help but consider: this position is just as intimate as all the other interactions. You’re already so vulnerable in their lap, does the hand around your neck change your peril in any way? No, you’ve been a defenseless lamb to a slaughter the moment you’ve stepped into the domain of a menacing wolf. 
Ah. Even now, you can’t dismiss the warmth of their fingertips. 
“Do you still want to touch me when I do this?” They demand callously, their voice harsh and reverberating through the room. Their grasp closes more around, and you feel your supply of oxygen inhibited. Tears begin to brim your eyes, but you’re undeterred. Unlike Arlecchino’s, your answer is instant and breathless. Your eyes intently lock on theirs, the hardened expression enough to satisfy their question. There’s no need for contemplation. Danger, you determine, is addicting. 
“Yes.”
The previously small smile stretches across their lips considerably. Content, or dare you say it, thrill writes itself over their face and the boulder previously pressed against your shoulders is lifted. Your throat is freed from their hold, but their touch doesn’t halt there. Instead, they rotate your head for you to face to the left, exposing your side profile to them. From the corner of your eyes, you watch as their face draws closer to your skin, hot breath cascading across the small dents her nails created. The one on your thigh finally leaves, moving to one of your hips, tender strokes across your flushed surface. They lean forward, and moist, plush skin meets yours. Lips traverse over the length of your neck, teeth scraping against, making you weakly groan. It takes all of your will to still your body, only allowing for the Harbinger to do whatever they desire to your form. Their touches are burning, burning, burning–so hot that you wonder if you’re experiencing a heat wave. Peppered kisses follow the edge of your jawbone, all the way up to your earlobe. A wet kiss graces your ear and then the most sinful of statements dignifies your eardrums, like a devil whispering hymns directly into your ear. 
“I think I’ll keep you to myself after this.”
A short hum follows afterward. 
“If you want to touch me, you’ll have to work for it. You’re only mine for tonight, aren't you? Entertain me. Give me a private dance, doll. After all, you have me for all night.” 
---
Link to M-Alexa's amazing art and how I imagine Arlecchino to look like in this oneshot.
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russellsppttemplates · 3 months
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okay but like protective charles over his family who are with him during a big gp like monza or something where everyone is always swarming him trying to get his attention and him just going into protective dad/husband mode🫠
btw everything you’ve written is amazing! i’m loving your blog sm 🫶🏻
Note: thank you for your feedback, I'm happy you enjoy it ✨️
"Hold mama's hands and don't let go, okay?", you checked with Hervé and Amélie, making sure they understood. Every weekend had its own rush and fans who wanted to meet your husband, and usually it was manageable with the kids. Monza, however, couldn't fall into that category. The fans and the whole atmosphere made it an even bigger event, tradition making it a weekend you rarely missed, and once the kids were old enough, they also joined you.
Walking out of the hotel, Charles walked in front of you, greeting all of the fans that had been waiting for him. "Charles! I'm here, I'm here!", they would yell, along with chants of "Forza Ferrari" and such.
The minute people started approaching you and the kids, the situation changed its look. Everyone wanted to have a little interaction with Charles, a picture, an autograph, or to give him something, not noticing you and the kids were getting swarmed in the sea of people until Hervé yelped.
"Sorry, buddy", an older man said, trying to make room for you and your children as you tried to move away from the group of people. Charles was quick to notice how you were in the middle of it all and how some fans were not letting you walk away from the group, almost trapping you and the kids.
"Everyone, I'm sorry", Charles tried, "EVERYONE BACK AWAY FOR A BIT PLEASE!", he yelled, catching the ones closest to him by surprise as he looked for you and the kids, holding Amélie's hand on his own so you could pick Hervé up and Charles could pick Amélie up.
"It's okay, amour, papa is here, there's no reason to fear, okay?", he checked with her, kissing het cheek and seeing some of the Ferrari team members also leave the hotel and calling for them, "can you help them out of here, please?", he asked as he kissed Hervé's cheek too, "are you going you be okay with them?", Charles ensured you were good, "yes - thanks for your help- yes, we will be fine", you assured.
"That was a little scary, papa. Mama wanted to get away but people weren't letting her, and I tried to push to one side, but we weren't able to go because only a few people were giving us space", your son pouted, looking up at Charles as you sat them in one of the benches, "I know, but that won't happen again, okay? I'm sorry", he said to the three of you, looking back at the group of fans that seemed to be getting antsier.
"Go, love, we are going to be fine. Just, be careful out there, okay? I don't want anyone trying to rip a hair out of you", you chuckled, kissing his lips and soothing some of his worries.
As Charles approached the group of fans again, contained by the police who had enforced security, "that wasn't okay, guys. I will happily sign and take pictures for all the time that I can, but when someone asks you to excuse them and let them walk, you have to let them do it. It doesn't matter who they are, my family or not, they're still people and they deserve that respect", he said, almost like he was lecturing your kids back at home.
(Thank you for your submission ✨️)
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cerise-on-top · 3 months
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What kind of dates would Gaz, Laswell, Valeria, and Alejandro take you on? (Assuming they had the time lmao)
I'm sick as hell but your blog gives me lots of lovely things to think about while I recover- have a wonderful day ❤️🙏
Hello! I hope you'll get better soon, being sick is just about the worst thing you can be, I was sick not too long ago as well! I'm glad to hear my blog can give you something nice to think about, that was my intention!
Dates with Gaz, Alejandro, Valeria and Laswell
Gaz: He’s a simple man, so he’d likely take you on rather simple dates. Something along the lines of going to the cinema, or maybe taking a walk in the park with him. It doesn’t need to be anything fancy for him, sometimes he just likes being able to spend time with you alone as well, so it’ll be an indoor date where you watch a movie  and cuddle with each other on the couch. Gaz can be a rather touchy guy if you allow him to be, so he’ll likely nuzzle into you a bit as he holds you close. If it was up to him you’d be blankie burritoed until you couldn’t move and would be reliant on him to carry you to bed. However, he also loves watching movies. While he may not be the biggest fan of anime he’ll watch it with you if you absolutely insist on it. Loves, and I mean loves, discussing the movies you’ve watched together afterwards. From the soundtrack to the visuals, the story to its message, he loves spending time with you and telling you all his thoughts about the movie. Saying something sophisticated makes him feel smart, and you actually agreeing with him makes him feel good too. Even if you’re not as movie-literate as he might be, he can still appreciate you listening to everything he has to say about it. If you do listen to him then he’ll invite you to another bucket of popcorn, it’s all on him, even if you insist on paying for him instead. Gaz just loves winding down with the one he loves, so he doesn’t always need to have the most exciting dates. As long as he gets to spend time with you, even in complete silence as you both do what you want, he’s a happy man.
Alejandro: I can see his dates being a bit more exciting than Gaz’. Alejandro is a rather active man and loves some action, so he’d likely love something along the lines of going to an amusement park. His stomach can handle quite a lot, so even the rougher rides won’t be too much of an issue for him. He just hopes that you can take just as much as he can. However, if you like going to amusement parks then you’ve scored with him. It doesn’t only have to be the rollercoasters you’ll be riding, though, sometimes he just loves going to a haunted house with you as well. He’d love it if you’re a scaredy cat about this sort of stuff who clings onto him for safety and reassurance. He’ll laugh a bit about you being so absolutely adorable, and call you out on being a bit scared, but he won’t shoo you away for holding onto him. In fact, he’ll encourage it. Alejandro doesn’t scare easily, he thinks haunted houses to be quite funny, especially with you. Please do hold onto him, though, he loves feeling like the stronger, trusted person who’s with you until the end of it all. He wants nothing more than to be someone you can rely on, even if it’s just something stupid. He certainly also wouldn’t mind going to a tunnel of love with you. Since he doesn’t need to always be so serious with you, he likes goofing around and giving you a big old kiss when he can. His favorites are the rollercoasters, though. He’s loved those ever since he was a child and wants to share that joy with you. Just hearing you scream and laugh with joy makes his heart flutter. He enjoys looking at you as the rollercoasters get to the scary part, all the while you’re either pale or laughing. It warms his heart to spend such a wonderful day with you and no one else.
Valeria: Unlike Gaz and Alejandro, even on date nights she needs to show off just how powerful of a woman she is. Ergo she’ll take you on dates where you’ll be eating some fancy food. Don’t even think about paying yourself. Besides, chances are if you’re a normal worker, then you likely won’t be able to afford the food anyway. However, going to a restaurant every once in a while would be kind of boring in and of itself, so Valeria would like to couple something like that with something else. The Christmas market is in town? There’s a musical you’d like to see? You just wanna go stargaze? Valeria is down for it all. Although she’d need some convincing to go stargazing with you since being outside is a huge risk for her, being seen even more so with you. Other than that she’d amuse herself greatly upon watching a play. She never got to see any when she was a child, even if she had always wanted to see something along the lines of a good musical. And now that she can she won’t let anything at all take that away from her. You better be ready to hear about some new musical or opera in town that you’ll be visiting. An opera she’s always wanted to see would be Carmen, so if that one’s ever in town she’ll be taking some days off to watch it with you, doesn’t matter what she has to do. As long as she gets to be fancy with you and show off to you just how great of a partner she really is, she’s happy. Besides, would you really pass up the opportunity to see her in either a beautiful gown or a fancy suit? Whichever she wears entirely depends on how she’s feeling that evening and how dominant of a person you are.
Laswell: Like Valeria, she’d prefer something fancy. Laswell can afford it these days, so she, too, would take you to a fancy restaurant before going somewhere else. I guess it would entirely depend on what you’re into. If you’re really into astronomy then you’ll go to a planetarium, if you’re really into marine biology then she’ll be taking you to the biggest aquarium nearby. Laswell is flexible like that, but she does prefer something where she can learn a thing or two as well, so she’d love it if you were into going to museums. Doesn’t matter what kind, it’s hard to gross her out with anything, or even bore her with whatever it is you’re into. As long as there’s a museum or an exhibition nearby you can be certain you’ll be going there at some point. However, if she has a few days off, then Laswell isn’t above flying somewhere with you either. A vacation with her is also her ideal version of a date. Just you and her spending time with each other, in the city, in the mountains, at the beach. Doesn’t matter where, Laswell has seen enough in this world, but she never gets to see any of it with you, which is a real shame in her eyes. Besides, she knows a lot of languages as well, so it’s not like you’ll ever have to actively worry about not being understood wherever it is you’re going, she’s got you covered. Laswell loves getting to see all sights with you, so you can be certain she’ll take a few pictures with you as well. Whether you’re doing a goofy pose in front of the tower of Pisa, looking tiny in front of the Sphinx, or absolutely beaming as you regard a temple in Kyoto, Laswell will treasure all of these moments in her entirety for as long as she can. The pictures are just an added bonus.
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hazshit-hotel-hater · 2 months
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I’m gonna be honest I don’t understand how people can be hazbin hotel fans and just know everything vivziepop has done and dont care or they choose to pretend they dont know so they dont have to feel guilty about it. Shocking news, you can be INCREDIBLY critical of media you enjoy parts of. I enjoy parts of this show but I’m not going to go buy shit to watch it and support some random lady using a closed religion to make her tumblr sexyman character look “scary”.
I saw someone say vivziepop misgendering someone (allegedly on accident) after getting mad, was a “nothing sandwich” which 1. No the fuck it aint. And also 2. Are you actually off your rocker nuts. I don’t give a fuck if it was an accident heat of the moment thing. Sure you can apologise for that, not me who you misgendered so I cant accept it, but misgendering anyone is never a “nothing sandwich”. Same guy also said that vivzie demonising and appropriating vodou was okay because “Alastor can do it” That… doesn’t fucking matter? VIVZIE can’t practice vodou and neither can her weird red suited deer man, sorry to burst your bubble.
I think everyone thats scrolled even a few inches on my blog (cause really thats all I have) can tell I like Angel Dust. Lots of people like Angel Dust. But apparently half of those people can’t comprehend you can dislike aspects of a character while liking other ones. I mean this directed toward fans by the way. Id sure as hell prefer if he wasn’t fucking fetishised for being a gay man but its vivziepop so literally what can I expect from the lady that makes merch glorifying his abuse. “Yes vivzie! Id love to purchase merch of a traumatic situation ive also been in! Thank you so much for making it look pretty!” I will literally eat glass and drink battery acid before any of this shit actually comes outta my mouth.
It’s so fucking weird how her spin-off show has better representation, humour, writing, and more than her actual main show. Im super glad Helluva Boss is good. Im glad there isn’t any stupid racist representations in there or overly fetishised gay men. Fizzaroli and Ozzie are a cute couple thats written very nicely but even they have elements of vivziepops unsavoury interests that you can see sometimes, but oh my god. Put some of that care into your MAIN show. I am holding out so much hope that vivzie continues the good writing of episodes 7 & 8 so much I am not going to stop noting that, but I am also fully ready to crash and burn from those hopes and that is so fucking disappointing.
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jewish-vents · 1 month
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first - i just want to say thank you for making this blog. it’s so important to know that we aren’t alone in the many things we’re experiencing and feeling right now, especially when so many of us have become painfully isolated as of late.
i apologize for how long this one is going to be.
i’ve been feeling so, so alone recently. my tumblr dash has been cut down to just a handful of jewish blogs that i can trust to be kind and understanding and nuanced, but it means that the majority of the content i see is about antisemitism and the war. after a while, it becomes draining to scroll through what feels like endless sadness. i turned to looking at fandom tags instead of following fandom blogs, but it makes me feel equally as insane to click on a blog about race cars and immediately see a post with 60k notes calling what’s happening in gaza “the new holocaust”. i started going back on twitter, but fan accounts on there too are only safe for a day or so before the account owner shares some awful antisemitic tweet from an account known to be an anti-jewish extremist. i went back on instagram briefly, but i was soon afraid to look at people’s stories for fear i’d see something terrible and lose yet another trusted person from my life.
in person, i have to walk by signs saying “zionism = genocide” and hastily scribbled palestinian flags with the colors in the wrong spot on my way to class every day. a wall across from my apartment says “BDS” in giant letters. i haven’t opened my curtains in months because of it. a “protest” of about 25 people stood in the center of campus and yelled and waved their fists in passing students’ faces, so jewish students didn’t go to class on any of the days they gathered. i only have one non jewish friend left at school - the rest abandoned me because i either called them out on antisemitic rhetoric or refused to go along with the idea that anyone, palestinian or israeli, muslim or jewish, is less than human. i had taken several of them along to our hillel’s seder in the past. i don’t know who i can safely go with this year. i have a few jewish friends, of course, but i love bringing goyische friends with little connection to judaism along to experience how joyful and loving jewish holidays can be.
it feels like there is no escape from this fucking war. it sickens me that it’s the only thing people pretend to care about - where is the attention for sudan, ukraine, armenia, uyghurs in china, syria, guyana? how is putting an emoji in your twitter bio or putting a translucent overlay of the palestinian flag on your tumblr icon any sort of real activism? how have we gone from “antisemitism is wrong” to “(((zionists))) control the world media”? it seems like the war is a fandom to these people. it seems like nobody cares enough to fully read and think critically about what they share, let alone do real research beyond looking at an infographic somebody shared on their instagram story. they’ll add on “don’t forget your click today!” to an unrelated twitter thread that went viral, flip the bird at the local starbucks, and put “won’t you free my palestine” on their instagram stories. they’ll anonymously tell a jew online to commit suicide. they’ll feel secure in the knowledge that they’re the perfect leftist, that this is somehow “good trouble”. all this praxis, and nothing to show for it but massive surges in hate crimes against jews. good job, guys! you singlehandedly saved every innocent person in gaza!
it’s isolating. it’s scary. jews can’t mourn. jews can’t be angry. jews can’t disagree. jews can’t suffer. jews can’t be whole, complex people with diverse beliefs and experiences. suffering is a game, and the goal is to hurt the most, scream the most, die the most, all to appease western leftists whose closest connection to war and violence was reading the hunger games in middle school.
i’m tired of it all. i want a peaceful and just resolution to the war. i want the mindless hatred everywhere to stop. i want to be able to scroll through social media and see nothing but fandom. i want to walk through campus with my magen david showing and all the friends i lost by my side on the way to the hillel seder. i want to open my curtains again. i know the experience of one diaspora jew is nothing compared to what people living in israel and palestine are currently going through, yet i still need this all to end. i don’t think any of us can go on like this, but we must, because we have. for thousands of years, we’ve gone on. that still doesn’t mean it has to be this hard all the time.
all i can think is “now we are slaves. next year may we be free.” now we are slaves to hatred and violence and suffering. next year may we all be free. next year may we all be in jerusalem.
.
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Hello I am a big fan of your work But I have a request (if request are even open then u can ignore it) how would the HLC characters react to MC being able to transform into a Hungarian Horntail dragon? (Btw have a great day or night and drink water please)
A/N: Blog rules and request updates are put on the pinned post at the top of the blog! If you have any questions, feel free to shoot me a DM :3
HLC REACT TO MC TURNING INTO A HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL
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MC still doesn't know the limits of ancient magic, but apparently, it includes being able to transform oneself into a powerful magical beast of their choice for a time. Today, the beast of choice was the ferocious Hungarian Horntail dragon. Admittedly, MC was just showing off.
They show their closest friends and mentor the full transformation and even a fireblast demonstration. Then they sit pretty to soak in the praise. They know they look cool.
SEBASTIAN SALLOW: His jaw was already on the ground when MC transformed, but it somehow got lower when he witnessed the 40ft jet of fire rise from MC's maw. Such POWER. He wants to see MC decimate a dark wizard outpost. Set fire to EVERYTHING!
OMINIS GAUNT: He can feel the rumble of the earth beneath him with every step MC takes. The heat of the flames makes him turn away. Just the low rumble from MC's throat sends shivers down his spine. This is the closest he EVER wants to get to the real thing. Even though he knows it's MC, it's a scary experience.
ANNE SALLOW: She's more collected than her brother, but still as excited over MC's ability to burn everything in their path. Just thinking about what MC could do with a single breath makes her giddy. She's as much a firebug as Sebastian, she's just better at keeping her head.
IMELDA REYES: She is a simple woman with simple interests. See dragon, must race. Fly MC! Show her what you're really made of! Bet she could fly circles around them. Bet they can catch her? Prove it!
NATSAI ONAI: She'll beat Poppy to the punch about asking for rides. The spines make it challenging but she'll figure something out. She grabs MC by the nostrils and gets in their face. "Let me ride you! ...wait, that sounded-... You know what I mean!"
GARRETH WEASLEY: He NEEDS to hear them roar. Dragons are so strong that they don't even need to use fire. A roar from a fully grown dragon at close range can shatter eardrums. You feel the shockwave of sound go through your body. His ears ring for a bit even though he covered them.
LEANDER PREWETT: He's feeling so inadequate as a wizard. He can barely balance on a broom right and MC can transfigure themself into a mother loving DRAGON. No fair...
AMIT THAKKAR: He's dying to know how this works. This is magic that's either never been seen or never recorded, because he's never even heard of anyone capable of this without being some sort of rare animagus. MC needs to be studied, and he's the one to do it. Next to the stars themselves, MC is the universe's greatest mystery.
EVERETT CLOPTON: Dragons scare the ever living shit out of him. They're big, powerful and sometimes go after broom flyers when hungry. Hell admire MC from a distance. Like, way back behind the stoney hill, distant. Please don't come closer, he will cry.
POPPY SWEETING: She's absolutely ECSTATIC! She can examine a powerful dragon up close that isn't trying to eat her. It's a dream come true! She does circles around MC, taking in every detail. She takes out a small, leather bound book and a piece of charcoal and sketches every part MC lets her study. When MC puts their snoot right up against her, she actually squeals a little with excitement. She gets to TOUCH a live dragon. She's on cloud nine and never wants to come down.
ELEAZAR FIG: When MC tells him this is something they could do thanks to ancient magic, the only thing he can think is: "Miriam would have loved to see this." He's so proud. MC is capable of way more than he ever thought. He only hopes to live long enough to witness the rest of the wizarding world realize the same.
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strangestcase · 1 year
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For the people that are going to do Dracula Daily this year:
One of the subplots that Dracula covers, and arguably the most important subplot, is one centered around a psychiatric patient confined to an asylum- it touches upon the way he sees the world, his relationship with his doctor, and how he relates to and perceives the villain VS the heroes, since for most of the plot he believes the villain to be good and strives to serve him.
Both the patient and the doctor characters (who are part of the main cast and very important to moving the plot foward in their own ways!) are portrayed as sympathetic victims to the main villain and mostly on the side of good, but in different ways, and, of course, the way they are written is informed by the beliefs of the time.
I won't spoil anything too important about it, just warn you that this subplot depicts Victorian Era ableism, which is... pretty extreme, and forms of medical abuse (specifically, psychiatric abuse) that still exist today!
This plotline involves:
-depictions of hallucinations, delusions, and irrational thinking
-medical malpractice: delusions being encouraged, patients being dehumanized, prolonged use of dangerous restraints
-unsanitary behavior (eating live animals)
-ableist attitudes from most of the hero characters
(other Dracula fans pls tell me if I've missed something)
What do I make of this? you ask. Well...
Do not excuse medical abuse, even if it's fictional. The doctor character is, for all his medical malpractice, depicted as a complex person that has some likeable traits and he undergoes a pretty sad arc relating to loss and trauma, like most of the heroes of this novel. This doesn't make him any less of an abuser, nor makes his patient any less of a victim!
Refrain from using ableist language or rethoric. The patient character, being written for a very old horror book, is often depicted as "unsettling" and his strange behavior is sometimes played for horror. This 1) doesn't make his situation any less deplorable 2) doesn't make him any less sympethetic and most importantly 3) doesnt give you a free pass to treat him as a scary horror monster. He's a victim of both the real monster of this story and the system he lives in.
Listen to psychotic fans. Research the history of Victorian asylums. Understand the historical context. Look at this subplot from a holistic perspective instead of treating it as a horror story within a horror story (although, it is a horror story, but not for the reasons some think it is!). Just don't be a dick to disabled people.
If any part of this subplot triggers or squicks you, you are not obligated to read it, just be aware that it exists and that it is important to avoid perpetuating ableist stereotypes, be they present in the original text or not. (Hell, you are not obligated to read any part of the book if you don't want to do so. Dracula Daily is supposed to be fun. Analyzing literature is supposed to be fun. Enjoying literature is supposed to be fun!)
For the love of God, don't get angry if some fans dislike the doctor character for what he's done and take the patients' side. This was an issue during the last Dracula Daily run. He's literally the victim in this relationship. I'm not saying you can't like or dislike either character but I have to reiterate: do not erase either character's contribution to the plot, do not demonize the patient character for being mentally ill in an "ugly" way and beliveing the villain is good, and don't woobiefy the doctor character because he said a funny thing once. Both are complex adult human beings so don't expect them to be caricatures.
Do not be afraid to call out ableist behavior from other fans, but also be careful to not overstep or talk over disabled fans, especially psychotic fans.
During the Dracula Daily run, some blogs will warn about the entries in which this subplot takes place, and what triggers apply for each one of them. If you need those warnings, don't be afraid to reach out for them!
Happy reading!
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wheels-of-despair · 1 year
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Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) Masterlist
Welcome to my Eddieverse, which I'm affectionately referring to as Evil Woman, Don't You Play Your Games With Me. These are snippets of a playful, prank-filled relationship that begins in 1984, starring Eddie Munson and a female reader I call Evil Woman.
These stories were originally designed to be standalones that could be read in any order, but as this world grows, a little organization might help. The original list below, with descriptions, is the order in which they were posted. There's also a list in chronological order. You can still pick and choose and read in any order you want. Both lists will be updated as I post new stuff.
If you are a blank or ageless blog who interacts with a fic that contains as Do Not Interact (DNI) warning, you will be blocked.
🧡 - Regularly scheduled light-hearted fun. 🖤 - Shit just got real. 💛 - IDK man, this one just kind of wrote itself. 💖 - Wait, there's romance now?
Wrapping Paper 🎅🧡 Eddie thinks he's here to hang out while you wrap presents, but you have something else in mind.
Fucking Fireworks 🎇🖤 Eddie doesn't like fireworks anymore. (New Year's Eve angst, AU where the events of S4 weren't prevented by the fic below)
The Fastest Fix-It (Or: How a Jealous Girlfriend Shut That Shit Down and Saved Eddie Before the Bell Rang) 🧡 In which a jealous girlfriend completely de-rails season 4, but Eddie's fine, so it's all good. (Fix-It, via the path of least resistance)
Draw Me Like One of Your Dwarf Girls, Eddie 🧡 Inspired by Titanic, Eddie decides to work on his drawing skills, and accidentally awakens a monster.
Eddie Munson and the Worst Valentine's Day Ever 💝🖤 An 8-year-old Eddie Munson has an experience that changes his feelings on Valentine's Day forever. (will make you cry)
Eddie Munson and the Best Anti-Valentine's Day Ever 💝🧡 In a sequel to the story above, Eddie discovers that Valentine's Day isn't so bad when you have someone to hate it with. (2.8k of me trying to make amends for what I did to him in the prequel)
Involuntary Secretary and the Dream Escape 💛 People won't leave you the hell alone, so Eddie comes to the rescue like the hero he is.
Classy Girl and the Scruffy Boy 🧡 Eddie's girl invites him over for a romantic dinner and a movie. It's... not exactly what he expected.
Wake-Up Call 🧡 Eddie doesn't want to get up. Sucks to be him.
The Case of the Missing Eddie 🖤🧡 Eddie disappears, and you freak the hell out.
Pinch Proof 🍀🧡 Eddie forgot to wear green on St. Patrick's Day, but you have an easy solution.
The Nerd King Cops a Feel 🧡 Eddie learns something about bras: He hates them.
Revenge of the Freaks 🧡 The Hellfire Club does April Fool's Day a little differently than you might expect.
It's the Easter Dragon, Eddie Munson 🐣🧡 Just a big scary metalhead doing cute Easter-y things with Evil Woman and her family for the first time, nothing to see here.
Evil Woman, Don't You Play Your Games With Me 🧡 The story of how Evil Woman got her name.
The Ups and Downs of Dating a Trash Panda 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman's first date doesn't go exactly as planned… but everything works out in the end. Obviously.
It's Okay If You Are 🧡 Evil Woman and Eddie have a talk about The Dreaded V-Word.
Smoke Break 💖 Hellfire is holed up in your basement on prom night, but you can't sleep. Might as well drag Eddie outside for a smoke break.
I Touched Banana Bubblicious For You 🖤🧡 Some dickhead stuck a wad of gum in Eddie's hair, and you get the honor of removing it.
The Fuck Did You Just Say to Me? 💛💖 Eddie tests the degradation waters. Evil Woman boils him in it.
Who's Your Fucking Daddy? 💛💖 Eddie tries out the "daddy" thing. EW has an unexpected reaction.
You're the Fucking Worst 💛💖 Eddie tries talking dirty. Evil Woman is not a fan.
The First and Last Breakup of Eddie Munson and Evil Woman 🖤 Once upon a time, two stupid teenagers fell in love. And then they broke up for a stupid reason and spent a whole week doing stupid things because they're stupid teenagers. (angst with a happy ending)
Werewolf Children 🧡 The first time Eddie spent the night with Evil Woman, it was kind of an accident…
Sweet New Tatty 🧡 Eddie has a new tattoo, and it's driving Evil Woman crazy.
A Very Important Date 🎂🧡 Evil Woman doesn't want to make a big deal out of her birthday. However, she's dating Eddie Munson, sooo…
Clown Around and Find Out 🤡💛 Eddie decides to play a prank on Evil Woman, and quickly finds out just how dangerous that is.
The Little Air Conditioner That Could 🔥🧡 Eddie's girl is having a love affair with his air conditioner.
Secret Weapons 🧡 Eddie's mad at Evil Woman (over something dumb, don't worry, doesn't matter), but she knows how to win him back.
This Is Better 🧡 Eddie's lady love is down with The Curse, but his cuddly nature and massive paws come to the rescue.
Fangs for the Mammaries 🧡💖 Eddie wants to try a sexy new toy into the bedroom. Evil Woman wants a divorce. (unhinged Halloween-adjacent fluff)
Don't Move 💖 Eddie looks really good waiting for your snacks to come out of the microwave. So good that you'd rather eat him instead.
Eddie Munson Is My Babydaddy 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman are responsible for a Flour Sack Baby for a week. Shenanigans ensue.
Flying Monkeys Couldn't Drag Me Away 🍂🧡 Evil Woman invites Eddie over for a fun fall night of makin' treats and watchin' a movie with the family.
What If Real Life Is the Nightmare? 🖤 Evil Woman has a dream about finding Eddie's broken body in a dark and awful place full of slimy monsters and red lightning… but it's just a dream, right? RIGHT? (dark but has a happy ending, I promise)
Bonus Blurb: What If Real Life Is Good? 🧡 Evil Woman comes home after What If Real Life Is the Nightmare and has A Heartfelt Moment with Baby Bro. (brotherly fluff, not much Eddie)
The Last First Day 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman have a dramatic reunion on his last first day at Hawkins High. Class of '86, baby!
The First Lazy Thanksgiving 🧡🦃 Eddie comes to stay with Evil Woman during Thanksgiving Break '85 for a lazy and turkey-filled few days… but do holiday plans ever actually turn out the way they're supposed to?
I Hate Mondays 🧡 Like his beloved Garfield, Eddie hates Mondays. Evil Woman decides to give him a reason to look forward to them.
The Family Holiday 🖤🎅 It's December of 1985, and Evil Woman is ready to spend her first real Christmas with Eddie… why is he being weird about it?
I Promise 🧡🎅 Eddie gives Evil Woman something special during a quiet moment together on Christmas Morning '85.
A Slightly Late Munson Christmas 🧡🎅 Eddie spent Christmas '85 with Evil Woman, but it's time to go home and celebrate with Wayne… what if he brings her along?
The First Countdown 🧡🎇 Eddie and Evil Woman go to Reefer Rick's on New Year's Eve to say goodbye to 1985… and hello to a new favorite tradition.
The Best $7 Eddie Munson Ever Spent 🧡 In the fall of 1983, Eddie bought something he thought was cool… but he didn't realize how important it was until a year later.
The Devil's Trip 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman embark on an epic spring break road trip… in which everything goes wrong.
Evil Woman's Tit-Warming Service 🧡 Eddie's cold, and there's only one acceptable solution to this very perky problem.
The Freak and His Evil Woman Do Valentine's Day 🧡💘 Last year's anti-Valentine's Day date was a success… but what if Eddie and Evil Woman tried normal romantic stuff in 1986?
Three Days 🖤🧡 Three days after Eddie and Evil Woman met for the very first time… there was a jock encounter they'll never forget.
Have You Ever Choked a Chicken? 🧡 Evil Woman decides to pop in and surprise Eddie with some morning cuddles… but, uh, he's a little busy.
A Situation 🧡🍍 There's only one thing in the world that could make Eddie turn Evil Woman Action down… and it's down there.
Taking Matters Into Your Own Hands 🧡 Eddie's on the phone talking to a nerd, and not in bed pleasuring his beloved like he should be. Evil Woman finds a way to make him focus on the important things.
Boys Are Idiots 🖤 Evil Woman gets partnered up with Steve Harrington for a science project. Which means she has to TALK to him? And be NEAR him? Eddie Munson is NOT a fan.
The Breakfast Club 🧡 It's 1985, and it seems like the entirety of Hawkins High is obsessed with The Breakfast Club. Evil Woman drags Eddie to the theater to see what all the fuss is about.
Evil Woman Sees (Big) Red 🖤👊 Remember in I Touched Banana Bubblicious For You, when Evil Woman had to get gum out of Eddie's hair? Again? Well… what if she found the person responsible?
The Long Con 🧡 Evil Woman brings Eddie a thoughtful gift… but there are some springs attached.
Can't Take You Anywhere 🧡 Eddie is super bored in the BMV and Evil Woman needs to find something for him to do, stat!
Heaven and Hell (Or: Eddie and Evil Woman Do… Prom?!) 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman are checks notes going to prom? Like normies?!
Want to read the Eddie x Evil Woman stories in chronological order instead? Click here!
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Blurbs Based on Emojis 🔪 - Worst Baby-Sitter in the World 🥺 - Ugh, Fine! 🧝‍♀️ - Yes, My Queen 🐈 - Eddie's Familiar 🎢 - Traveling Death Trap
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...and sometimes I write for Other People's Eddies. funsonmunson-again's birthday game oneforthemunny's summer game oneforthemunny's one-derful year
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wildpeachfarm · 19 days
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this is meant lighthearted : instead of “all men are trash, women do no wrong” a secret third thing “PEOPLE suck in general”
as someone who grew up with an absent father who tried to make life difficult for my mother once she took him to court for child support for me and my siblings - ing…I grew up with a not nice view of older men BUT my grandpa was a big big influence in not making men a negative experience for us.
the recent shift of the last 4-5 years has been worrying. I used to liked jkr and could emphasize where she was coming from originally. but it was scary to see the gradual descent into where she is now and the stuff she is saying. Bc she is so far removed from what she originally stood for. It can happen to anyone, I even get worried if I’m on that slope sometimes. This whole situation had me second guessing myself bc I gave gnf time and believed in him. I had a moment when a few female creators made remarks (not from mc community) and I checked myself bc I was scared I was falling into the conservative rhetoric to blame women and protect men. Then I saw others who had more information and actually looked into it and also found this blog where the nuances were being discussed and let out a breath of relief that I was just using my critical thinking skills lmao
There are so many men out there who just aren’t given a chance bc society is set up for them to fall into a certain role. And I think a lot of men are trying to break that role and stereotypes. I became a dream fan bc I saw him doing this, saw a gamerboy in 2020 who was passionate and excelled at the game but didn’t fall into the toxicity of the space, actively fought against it.
and women should not be encouraged to drag men through hell bc they feel empowered by the rhetoric of recent years. women can and are just as selfish and shitty people as men. Sometimes they are worse
we’ve gone so far off center, we’ve essentially gone from one extreme to another. Which I learned two years ago was called terfs 😂 the movement needs to go back to its previous meaning. Feminism is not solely female empowerment it is the deconstructing of the patriarchal roles and belief that push men and women into boxes. Feminism, as I was taught over a decade ago, was the fight for women and MEN to be equal and have the same rights and opportunities. We can uplift women without putting down men. if this feminist movement doesn’t correct itself, it will allow more men like andrew tate to grow and influence young men.
The lack of female representation in the sphere cannot be corrected by women. It just can’t. Men need to be part of the change bc if the environment is not corrected, women cannot succeed and thrive. They can become successful but the hate and obstacles directed towards them is crazy. This is in general not just for streaming.
It can’t just be women solidarity, men need to learn and actively engage in calling out misogynist behavior. Women need to talk with their males friends and call them out when they say or act in disgusting ways. Women need to hold women accountable as well! It is unfair and unattainable to put female equality solely in the hands of women. We need to All work together.
Puffy is so good at this when she streams, especially on the smp. Hell, she even created a whole villain arc to call out the people telling her to “be a therapist to Tommy, omg your like dreams mom”. Puffy is awesome 🥹
men =/ bad
women =/ good
PREACH ANON
this breaks it all down so well and i really sympathize with you about having a poor view of some men in your life and trying to not let that influence your views but also not go so far off the other end that you end up blindly defending them without critical thinking.
Really important discussions and introspection about how your thought processes work that I think everyone should have at least once when situations like this come up
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entity56 · 5 months
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I decided I might as well make an introductory page. (DO NOT LEAVE ANY MORE NOTES ITS AT 56)
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(bars by @anti-rq-boxes and @the-radio-star-is-a-kookaburra and @boxesforsys) Tags: #entity says #aidan says #erie says #jade says #haru says #hera says #zim says #gateway says My account is getting a little bit of traction, and others do it. So... Hello. My name is Entity. Formally, Entity 56. But, if we are friends, you can simply call me En. I identify as a peaceshipper: my shipping stance does not matter as I am completely anti-harassment. I am an eclectic Wiccan, and I hold a special relationship with the moon. I believe all of nature and natural/weather phenomena hold energetic force. If you are not comfortable talking to someone who speaks to the sky...! I am genderqueer. Let's leave it at that.
I am sapioromantic and asexual.
I struggle with alexithymia, meaning I have a hard time getting a reading on how I feel emotionally or physically unless it's RIGHT THERE jumping in my face. I am an otherlink (luna moth) and otherkin (spiritually an alien and a satyr, psychologically a deep-sea eldritch.) I am also a Toko Fukawa fictkin. I enjoy weirdcore, cryptids/cryptidcore and cottagecore. I also enjoy moths and butterflies. :) I have been professionally diagnosed with ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder). I have OSDD-1b. On that note, I have been hyperfixated on psychology for years now. I will go INSANE if that special interest is fed. This blog is mostly for reblogging whatever I find interesting, which varies widely through time, but is a safe space for all genders (including genderhoarders and 'contradictory labels), sexualities (as long as they're ethical), 'scary' or 'demonized' disorders (personality disorders, psychotic disorders, dissociative disorders, ANTI-CONTACT paraphilic disorders, etc) religions*, system origins, age regressors, etc. DNI: Bigots of ANY kind (including those that are racist against non-POC or misandrists), pro/neutral/complex-contact/anti recovery harmful paraphilics, radqueers, TransID (other than gender), anti-therian/otherkin/alterhuman/etc, t(w)erfs/swerfs, DSMP fans, Christian blogs, syscourse/shipcourse blogs, proana blogs More may be added or some may be removed as time goes on. PS: Stay out of the comments if you don't like drama! *I hold nothing against Christians, but due to trauma, am incapable of partaking in much of Christian content.
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skzoologist · 5 months
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HI HI HIIII! IS YOUR REQUEST STILL OPEN? (checked your profile but I had to ask again because what if u forgot to close it? 😭) ANYWWWWAY
Can I ask the reaction (crack or fluff just skz being proud of our bby bae) of skz to Bae dancing EXO's 'The Eve' or 'Artificial Love'?
TENCHUUU (づ ̄ ³ ̄)づ
word count: ~1.2k
warnings: sensual dance (for the shy ones like me)
genre: crack
a/n: Hey-ho anon, don't you worry! I basically live on this hellsite, I'm here everyday, updating my blog. Now, onto your request. The way I just watched the videos so I knew what to write about like this: 😳🫣. What can I say, I get flustered easily too. Also I wasn't sure in what format you wanted the reactions, in a little drabble like this, or written down per member, so I'm sorry if this is not what you wanted (i'm still not versed in the ways of running a blog). I hope you'll enjoy this! (Also yes, I know the gif isn't matching, I just couldn't find one from this dance)
Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!
!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!
!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
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‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
The band was on their 3rd Fanmeeting, the crowds overly ecstatic wherever they went. There was a certain buzz in the air, amplifying the cheering and shouting even more than usual.
And the boys were absolutely thriving on it, adrenaline coursing through their veins in dangerous amounts, pushing them to perform on those bright stages for endless hours with no problem.
Bae was no different, his stage persona flawless, the perfect and cold mask on his face never even wavering. Fans shouted his name with all their might amidst their performances to different songs, trying to grab his attention, even if it was only for a split second. It never worked, the male too focused on doing well and dancing with all his might, executing the moves with scary precision. The fans were used to it by now, never expecting the idol to actually smile at them with a finger heart or even a wink sent their way, those actions suiting the other members much more. The tall otter was way too shy to do that, especially amidst dancing. 
After the band performed the well-known and fan favourite dances that belonged to a few of their selected songs in Seoul, it was time for a little break and fanservice. Small chairs were brought up onto the stage, easily lifted and moved thanks to their light build. Everyone took their respective seats, Bae having his between Chan and Changbin. Not like it mattered anyway, the boys always kept switching up their seats and who they sat next to amidst the chaos.
And chaos, it was.
Bae knew what was going to happen, of course he did, having helped the others practise with the choreography, but it still didn’t take away the shock factor of seeing it live, right in front of him up on the stage.
It started with ‘Queencard’ by (G)I-DLE, the two males next to him standing up and walking to the centre of their little half-circle they had decided to sit in. Bae couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face, seeing his bandmates perform so wonderfully, all those practices having paid off. But he also couldn’t help the way his eyes widened at certain moves, the skin on his ears undoubtedly already turning red. It only became worse once the song ended, Chan and Changbin going to sit back down and noticing his slightly flustered state.
He tried his best to ignore those giggles around him.
Focusing back in front of him, Bae suddenly wished he didn’t. The sight of Felix and Hyunjin dancing to ‘The Eve’ by EXO caught him off-guard, still not having fully recovered from the previous dance. Their moves were flawless, of course they were, being proud members of Danceracha, and the watching idol was extremely proud of them. He remembered which parts were tricky for who, both proudly skipping over to him when they had finally pulled them off.
But the moves were also sensual, way too much for the shy little otter. Yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off of them, gaze stuck in place and meeting with Hyunjin’s. The younger winked at him just as he performed the last hip roll, not knowing how much damage he had done to Bae’s brain.
By the end of the song Bae’s skin became several shades darker, the red extremely evident and vibrant on it. This naturally meant that everyone could see it easily, teasing him endlessly and with no mercy. It was a miracle in itself that he hadn’t exploded at all.
“Come on Bae hyung, why not dance it as well?” - Felix slyly added, wiggling his eyebrows. “N-no, I couldn’t–” - Bae tried to defend himself, only to have Hyunjin cut him off. “You’d basically learnt it with us, with how much you helped us. Come on Hyung, please?”
And who was he to say no to those eyes?
With a silent sigh, Bae closed his eyes and tried to cool himself down. Those boggled thoughts slowly detangled from each other, leaving his mind tidy and focused. The memories of each practice flashed before his closed eyelids, all in perfect order and great detail.
When he opened his eyes again he had already been standing in Felix and Hyunjin’s place, the attention of the crowd and his members all on him. A quiet breath left his lips, a hand carding through his hair as the song started up again, signalling that it was time.
Bae’s body moved in perfect rhythm, as if it was a well-oiled machine. Not a single step or flick of a hand was out of place, his mind on autopilot with only the thought of dancing floating in its entirety. He felt the tight leather pants constrict with each movement, the slit on the back of his shirt opening and flashing a bit of skin when he turned around.
As the song ended so did his focus, eyes blinking and seeing the cheering crowd as he was putting his hand down from his ending pose. Although somehow the ones next to him were much louder, something that should have been impossible to achieve.
“I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT!” - Felix shouted, a smile on his lips so wide, Bae was afraid it would split his face in two. “Wah, I never knew our baby otter could dance like that!” - Chan said, all giggles and chuckles as he affectionately squeezed Bae’s shoulder. “I think you just killed a few people here, Dal hyung.” - Jeongin added in, Seungmin wholeheartedly agreeing.
At the head tilt of the flustered member, the puppy pointed at the remaining four members who laid on the floor, seemingly dead. Jisung kept glancing up occasionally, successfully catching Bae’s gaze.
“Yah, warn us before moving like that! Those hips are deadly, man.” - he accused, even pointing a finger at the poor man.
“I don’t think I can recover from this.” - agreed Hyunjin, dramatically draping an arm over his forehead.
“Guys, I think Binnie and Lino hyung actually died. They haven’t moved since then.” - Felix added in, sweatdropping at the situation.
The boy was right, as the two didn’t react even when Chan and Seungmin had shaken them. Only when Bae was nearby did they seemingly resurrect, latching onto his legs and gazing up at the blushing male with stars and adoration in their eyes.
“Marry me, jagi.” - the two said almost perfectly at the same time, even the petname they used matched.
Minho and Changbin glared at each other, all the while Bae became an absolute flustered mess, skin flushed all the way down to his neck and chest. The others enjoyed the show, maybe a bit too much, relishing in the fact that Bae had finally let up on stage for a bit. Most of them didn’t hesitate to join in and shower the tall idol with praises, only worsening his condition as he just stood there, hands covering his face so at least STAY wouldn’t see him.
He couldn’t let that happen, not in a million years. Let him have the remains of his dignity, if not anything else.
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dozing-marshmallow · 5 months
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Hello! I was reading your Nibling reader and chris stuff.
Thought maybe I could request one(if that's okay-)
How about one with Nibling on total drama world tour that's terrified/disturbed by Sierra? (like I am now-shes creepy) like, they will go to the other side of the plan just to get away from her. Even if it means avoiding people they like(even Chris at one point) but then it gets to the point that Reader legit begs Chris to kick her off.
Kinda dark, but now whenever I see how Sierra treats Cody, it upsets me-)
Hope you have a wonderful day/night!^^
I hope you’ve been having wonderful days yourself! I’m so sorry I took a long time with this one my dear, I really hope you enjoy it and that it was worth the wait😵❤️!! 
CHRIS MCLEAN’S NIBLING! READER HEADCANONS (PART 8)
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Chris didn’t think through Sierra’s position on the show.
“Hm, Gwen... There’s something I wanted to tell you since I first saw you.” you swift your curious words up to the goth girl.
“Oh? What’s that, (Y/N)?” what did you want to say to her that you couldn’t before?
“Your hair... It looks like Coraline’s, doesn’t it?” the cyan black brushes upon her shoulders,“The colour, the length...”
Her facial features shake in surprise,“No way! You know that film?”
Who doesn’t!?,“Of course I do!”
“Who was your favourite character?” she asked electrified.
“The actors, Miss Spink and Miss Forcible!” you declare,“That scene where they were doing acrobatics had to be one of my favourite moments in the film!” you didn’t need to watch said scene physically for your mind to fly in amazement.
Gwen agreed, smiling with you,“I second that! But Other Father’s song has to take the ultimate cake for me.”
“Fair!” now time for the real question,“Do you think Coraline ever escaped?”
Gwen gives a tiny squeal, the happiest you’ve seen her with you,“I have been waiting to talk about this with someone!” She’s excited to discuss it. So were you.
Until Sierra walks in.
“Gwen, is it fine if we talk down there?” like excitement, your voice lowered, with your hand tugging her sleeve.
“How come?”
“Be...Behind.”
Gwen only had taken half a glance to inhale through her teeth and comply. By nature, shifting down to the other end of the economy class guaranteed no invisibility as Sierra sprinted to you,“OMG! It’s cousin and bridesmaid! Everyone on my blog has been dying to get some more nibling and contestant interactions! And I get to witness it in person, face to face...!” her voice sharpened down to a whisper at the last part, before steaming back up,“What are we talking about??”
“Erm...we weren’t talking about anything.” you couldn’t hold strict concentration on her, you might turn into stone,“I remember Chris said he needed to talk to me about something. Maybe next time.” you whisper to Gwen,“Sorry. We can talk about it later.”
Gwen nods as you hurry to the front of the plane, leaving her with Sierra.
“Uh...” she wasn’t a fan of her company either,“I should probably go check up on Leshawna.”
“Leshawna?” Sierra’s shriek did nothing to stop the goth from walking out,“Wasn’t she eliminated?”
Fast forward to another conversation she ruined.
“Uncle, do you remember the first time you flew on a plane?” you asked him in the middle of the first class section.
“Oh ho ho...” he had himself sat down in one of the golden seats. You know it’s gonna be good,“How could I forget? It was chaos! For a start, your nana lost her purse during security check so we spent an hour helping her find it. We thought we were gonna miss our plane, until they announced it would be delayed for three boring hours. When we did get on, we were seven hours in the air before turning back, because the plane we boarded had a faulty air pressure and there was a hurricane.”
...Wow. You could count on his stories for being wild, but a hurricane on top of a faulty pressure? That sounds like too much stress for one childhood,“That sounds so scary!”
He laughed,“Sure was! Your mom was crying for hours. She thought we were gonna like die.”
Of course!,“Eh? Didn’t you?” If you had been there, you would have responded the same!
“I diiid, but death comes for us all eventually. I’ve had near-death experiences growing up, so the whole thing just felt like missing the school bus. What can I do? I’m walking proof that God has favourites!” your uncle was awesome, but he can be quite a stretch. Still, you get what he’s thinking.
“...Do you think we’ll get any hurricanes?” your naive conscience was now screaming with dystopias of the plane crashing.
“Maybe. If we do, it’ll be one heck of an episode!” if you didn’t know better, you would have thought he wanted it to happen.
From the corner of your eye, you see Sierra finishing with forcing affection around Cody’s cheeks. She was now by herself.
Don’t come here...
Chris noticed first that you were stepping away.
“Something wrong, (Y/N)? Is there a hurricane coming?” it was meant to be a joke, but somehow was applicable.
“Chris... Please.” you gestured him to move with you, to which he responded in facial confusion. Why. Why didn’t he see you wanted to get away from her? Why was he still sitting there?
If keeping distance from your uncle meant you could avoid awful Sierra, so be it!
Speak of the striking devil...
“Aww! Aren’t I soooo lucky to witness my very favourite family bond!” she gushes, hurling her camera out from nowhere,“Can I take a photo of this for the fans?”
“Erm sure...” though you weren’t exactly spending time with Chris anymore.
“Smiiiile!” you don’t. She puts her camera down and gives you a saddening look,“Why so down, cousin? Is it because you don’t have any siblings or other cousins to play with? Oh, cousin! Don’t worry, don’t worry! My mom’ll be sure to give you some!”
“Huh?” what did her mother have to do with it?
Chris knew, by immediately remembering the last time Sierra opened her mouth around you,“That’s enough, Sierra.”
“But it’s true, Chris! You know you wanna marry my mom! We’ll all be one happy family! We’ll never cut ties!” delusion drives her voice as she rubbed her thumb on your palm, staring right into your eyes,“Did he ever tell you how babies are made?”
Okay.
That was a question you frequently thought about.
But with Sierra looking at you with that devious grin...
You lost it.
You took your hand back,“Leave me alone! I don’t want to know! I don’t want you to tell me!” you start crying. Why couldn’t she leave anyone alone?!,“I don’t like you! I don’t like you! I don’t like you!”
For someone who wanted kids, she was terrible with them!,“Now you’ve done it, Sierra...” Chris groaned at the girl whose rare panic tore her face, his arm shielding you,“Couldn’t keep that mouth zipped for a minute, huh?”
You’re brought into Chris’ quarters where he silently grasped you in his arms. You felt like a burden to your uncle, but you knew he would tell you that if it were true.
“Chriiis, I don’t like Sierra...” you sniffle, mouth sandpaper dry,“She keeps thinking we’re cousins and she keeps getting close to me! She never listens to me! Can you kick her off? Please, uncle?”
“I know, (Y/N).” he spoke, unmoved,“But I can only influence how the game plays. I can’t directly do anything, especially when Sierra is a huge attraction for ratings. It’s Team Amazon that makes the call to let her go.”
So... All you need to do is convince the rest of her team to vote for her? That should be a piece of cake, the superfan was unpopular with everyone. You wouldn’t be surprised if they already were voting for her.
“I’ll promise you that the next time we have Team Amazon voting and majority of their votes are for Sierra, I won’t decide to make it a reward challenge last minute.”
“Are you sure, uncle?” he was infamous for breaking his word,“Your fingers aren’t crossed, are they?”
He takes his hands up above you. Not a finger crossed,“Promise.”
You felt a little relieved that Sierra’s fate was partially determined,“Mm... What should I do then?”
“Just wait a little longer... She’ll be gone soon.” his words were a succour, but the sound of his voice makes you think
Will it really be soon...?
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autismprotocol · 2 months
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Hey, sorry if this is long, but I really like what you guys are doing and have nowhere else to put my theories, so...
Firstly, sorry to be that person, but I actually think you mislabeled the entities for two episodes. Needles reads like an avatar of the slaughter to me. It's like Lietner said, the physical description is less important then the emotional or metaphorical. Needles' thing isn't "look at this scary trick I can do with my flesh body." It's "I am going to cause you intense pain at random by stabbing you with my needles. Please be scared of me :)"
I was also surprised you didn't mark Putting Down Roots as a filth statement. Illness, rotting alive, swarming flies, a deeply unhealthy romantic love. All reads as corruption to me.
Now let's get to my fun crack theory. Episode 7 almost reads to me like the point the powers breached into the new world. Think about it, hilltop road was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of artifacts and "people" (avatars) that map to many different powers (I counted stranger, slaughter, dark, filth, and possibly hunt among the artifacts present). The timeliness doesn't quite match up (we have a statement from the 1800s), but maybe the powers are capable of having retroactively always existed. Or maybe the fan theory that the entities are now the "hungers" that feed on obsession was true until the fears intruded into the world.
Omg thank you so much for the ask I absolutely love over analyzing this goofy lil podcast and i really wanted to have this board be a collaborative and community thing for all of us TMAG/TMAGP fans out there!
starting with the board corrections you pointed out you are absolutely right after reading this I ended up rereading the wiki entries about the Entities because its been a hot second since I've read up on those goobers and I've kinda forgotten how many little nuances that each one has. I had no idea how we missed the clear corruption tie-ins that were occurring in Samuel Webbers journal (Putting Down Roots) especially when you brought up his toxic relationship to his partner.
As with Needles before doing my reread about the fears I just assumed flesh because body modified with needles. but looking into it, sudden piercing needles more cleanly falls into slaughter.
I actually have this ongoing theory originated by my roommate and other blog contributor that the fears might have been scrambled when crossing dimensions. maybe because of this many minor powers have begun to branch out from the main 15 and with that hybrid avatars and entities have been created. With needles I think maybe they fall under the umbrella of slaughter and spiral because of the way they mentally toy with their victims. also could explain why needles has to convince the man on the phone that they're scary because this hybrid power may be new and people have not gotten fearful of it yet.
I'll be making those changes for next weeks board so thank you for pointing them out :D
on to your theory that would make sense especially since this episode (EP 7) is kind of serving as the catalyst for the story to shift into high gear. I think that if the Hilltop charity shop was the entrance point for all of the fears to enter the world it would make complete sense. Hilltop is the one place in the Magnus canon that people have reported traveling to different dimensions. also the date of the incident falls right about the time that Archives started early 2016 so the fears may have also gone back in time to when Jon became the Archivist in TMAs universe (since Jons death is the catalyst that forced them to jump dimensions.) I'm really liking where your theory is heading
also real quick if anyone has more info about the theory that Protocols world lived off of hunger and desire pre the fears appearing I'd love to hear more about that because I've never heard of the until now.
Again thank you so much for the ask I'm so happy you're liking what we're doing here and I hope you continue to share your thoughts and theories with this blog.
-Echo
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