What’s so crazy is that not only did they say that we needed to have a discussion, but they intentionally tagged it so that people they know would disagree would see it. Like, what were you expecting? It seems like they just wanted an echo chamber that would agree with them. Saying you think there needs to be a discussion and then hiding replies/reblogs and blocking people who give any pushback is just… a little pathetic, NGL. It tells me that they don’t actually believe their argument and they know it’s flimsy, but they felt defensive because the original criticism was forcing them to confront some uncomfortable things about themself internally.

And the argument: “well, it’s not real!” Sure, but in order for that point to hold any weight, you have to demonstrate a clear awareness and understanding of the motives behind the content you create and the possibility of it being influenced by deep rooted or internalized issues/biases. We don’t live in a vacuum and it’s impossible for anyone to create content that isn’t in some way influenced by unconscious biases or things we’ve internalized from being socialized in a prejudiced society. But if you refuse to acknowledge the problem to begin with or become defensive at its mention, then how am I supposed to believe that you’re not challenging those issues in your daily life? I don’t police the content people make and I don’t automatically assume that creating content about controversial subject matter is the same thing as endorsing it. But again, becoming defensive and showing a lack of understanding when a discussion on said subject matter is being had, kiiiinda discredits you from being able to use the “it’s not real” excuse.

Btw, I don’t think you were rude. They were being purposefully inflammatory by posting it in the jily tag and condescendingly saying “you guys need to think about this”. I’m not sure why they were surprised by pushback, lol.

Well said, I don't think I can really add anything to this! Agreed they definitely don't believe what they're saying deep down and just feel uncomfortable about being forced to confront their behaviour. It's beyond painfully obvious that they didn't want discussion at all, they just wanted people to validate their Moral Righteousness about shipping sexy men together. Lmao. Did they really tag it and then say that jily fans needed to think about it? Ajfjgkkgbg that is wild

The "it's not real" was also wild considering that they were the one that compared people to neonazis for talking about fictional characters

Oh! You are taking requests! That’s awesome! ✨💫 I’d like to request a scenery where the reader lost her sister to Douma (she lacks proof... it’s an strong gut feeling?... she’s right tho) so, she get on his “good side” working in his cult to get a chance to avenge her sibling... her acting convincing and the “betrayal” amuses him to no end, so he decides to play with her before... eating/transforming her? Your choice! I’m a sucker for horror so it could be as dark as your heart allow it! 💜💃

Sorry this took so long cxnvldsnvoen and even though I tweaked the storyline just a wittle bit, I hope you like it! <3

Words: 2639

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Warnings: Cunnilingus, involuntary urination, cannibalism (sort of, you know the drill with Douma), body horror? Sexual gore? Yandere?? I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure how to tag this one.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362824/chapters/66015442#workskin

♥♥♥♥

You were easily the most insincere person he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

The lie itself was written all across your face in bold, slashing brushstrokes for the whole world to see if only they’d look close enough but so few ever did. He alone was privy to your deceit. Only he saw that dishonest smile for what it was, always so placid and warm even though it just barely concealed the hissing viper within. The unwavering mask of false loyalty you greet him with and the rage waging war behind your eyes every time you look into his face. Everything was right there, completely out in the open as if you couldn’t be bothered with trying to hide it, and Douma loved that aspect of you perhaps most of all.

Just as any good figurehead should, he’d nurtured the darkness within you until it sprouted roots and festered, growing ever larger as your hate for him also grew. Welcomed you and your heavy burden with open arms. Encouraged it even. You were simply too fun to play with and he was ever so curious to see how far into depravity you would ultimately spiral because of him. In some ways it was sad. Pathetic even that you would devote what was left of your miserable life to being a duplicitous little bitch when there were so many alternatives that were far, far more pleasant. But it was also undeniably thrilling at the same time, almost intoxicatingly so.

To think that he had angered you to the point of not only chasing after him like a pitiable stray but to also go so far as joining his congregation just to get close … this was a uniquely exquisite indulgence he wouldn’t soon rush to squander. Particularly not when keeping you around afforded him so many plushy benefits.

“You’re trembling.” A dangerously sharp nail traces its path down the length of your twitching stomach. He pauses at your belly button, toys with the notion of jamming his finger right through it and into your guts, but ultimately decides to save it for another day. Humming faintly, Douma resumes his tauntingly slow descent south. “Are you cold?”

You refuse to look at him and instead push the side of your face deeper into the pillow. It was always like this no matter how often he opened up his chamber doors in welcome. You simply refused to stop playing your part even when he had you spread out like some shameless whore on his bed of silk and that would never cease to amuse him for as long as he allowed you to live. You’d have been quite the accomplished actress if only you hadn’t been going up against the head performer himself. That you were out of your league was, to him at least, painfully obvious but he didn’t have the heart to tell you that just yet. 

No, not yet. There was still more of you to savor.

Bending close, Douma presses a lingering kiss to the center of your stomach. He can taste you on his tongue, blooming notes of stale meat poisoned with bitter fury, and it elicits a quiet groan out of him. You were the finest decadence he’d had in his bed in a very long while.

“Poor thing, that just won’t do. Let me warm you up.”

You squirm against the sheets as he pecks his way lower, issuing expertly timed sighs at the appropriate intervals. He appreciates just how committed you are to the act. Wonders if you found some pathetic young sod to practice with before presenting yourself to him or if you were simply a brazen slut by nature. It’s hard to say which prospect delighted him more, though Douma hardly cares to know the answer, particularly when he presses two fingers to your outer labia and carefully spreads them open.

So soft and fleshy, the petal-like folds make his mouth water. He could imagine no greater joy than nibbling on those puffy little lips and taking nipping bites at the swollen pearl bud that peaks up at him even now until you were bordering on hysterics, fighting him tooth and nail to get away. Only then, only when you were a frenzied animal trying to escape his taloned clutches, would Douma allow himself to sink his teeth in at long last. He was certain your sweet cunt would give way under his jaw without much resistance, if any at all. It would be just like biting into a peach.

But you weren’t quite ripe enough yet. You were almost there -- so, so very close he could just about feel the meat of your womanhood being rendered and chewed between his molars -- but still not there. He would satiate his abominable hunger only when you were blackened, mind, body and soul with your hate.

Eagerly licking his lips, Douma leans down and swipes the tip of his tongue across your clit. The way the meaty nub clings to his taste buds, dragging against the salivating muscle until it pops back into place with a plump jiggle, delights him to no end. It was so swollen that even it’s protective hood did very little in the way of concealing your arousal. If he didn’t know any better, he’d almost think you’d had to go months on end without release. Evidently, though, your cunt just enjoyed being on the receiving end of his attention that much even when your brain was most assuredly in total disagreement with that sentiment.

He moans, very faintly, at the thought of your brain. The day of feast couldn’t come quick enough.

“Oh, sweet dove …” Douma coos, nuzzling into your clenching pussy as if he were a cat marking its territory. “Are you really so neglected? I’m not sure how you’ll ever forgive me for making you suffer like this.”

You choke down an unintelligible sound that’s half sob, half moan and bring your hand up to coquettishly hide your mouth from his line of sight. “Douma-sama … please …”

He can hear it in your voice. The lie. The obvious, blatant, belligerent lie and it goes straight to his cock.

Undeniably, you sold the performance with every aspect of your body language right down to the way you shyly spread your legs further apart for him but the lie was still there. It was simply too big to hide. Not the small, pardonable white lie a god could be swayed to forgive with the right offering but a massive, all encompassing falsehood that had long since swallowed up your ego like a gluttonous black hole. You weren’t a person any longer but a container merely housing the selfish urge for vengeance.

You were so damn close.

Nails digging into the plush swell of your thigh, Douma lays himself out flat between your legs and presses his mouth to your slit. For as brief as the gesture is, he still comes away with glistening wet lips and he greedily licks up the evidence just as a carnivore might lick its bloodied chops. Delicious.

“Don’t fret, my dear. I know exactly what you need.” A pause. Another playful kiss to your gushing cunt. The savory smacking of his lips is quickly followed by a dreamy, almost wistful sigh that makes you shudder, though it's impossible to say if that reaction was one of pleasure or abject disgust. Not that it really mattered either way to him. “Just relax. Let me take care of you and then you’ll be free to scurry off back to bed like a good little girl.”

You visibly tense under him and, smothering the cruel laughter that tries to claw its way up his throat, Douma glances at your face.

Still partially obscured by your clenched fist, you continue to hide from him as if you were an untouched maiden being ravaged against your will even though you’d spent countless nights with him in his room like this. Always, always playing your role. The tension in your neck, however, told a different story. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you were biting your tongue and he derived a great deal of joy in the knowledge that you despised being talked down to so much. It just made him want to do it even more.

“Do you have any idea how good you taste? You’re like the sweetest forbidden fruit to me.” Tilting his head, Douma seals his lips around your pulsing clit and mouths at you. You arch, shoving your bare tits into the air with a quiet hiss but, still, you won’t look down at him. That suits him just fine though and he comes up off you a moment later with an obscenely loud, attention grabbing slurp that makes you twitch. “I could just eat you up, you know that?”

“D - Douma-sama --”

His tongue abruptly darts out, mercilessly lashing your clit.

You outright squeal, jolting at the sudden onslaught of stimulation before catching yourself and forcibly choking back any other sounds you may have been inclined to make. Douma is not so easily deterred though and he laps at you hungrily, attacking the engorged pleasure button from every possible angle until you’re a quaking mess underneath him. He could help himself to your sopping little cunt for hours if given the chance, high as a kite off the very real urge to consume you in the most literal sense, but it doesn’t take long at all to have you writhing uncontrollably. Although unfortunate, it was expected given just how needy and swollen you were -- and just for him at that. Who could have ever guessed?

“Oh, darling,” He pants, groans into the meat of your pussy. His eyes start to roll back in doped out bliss when your wild twisting drags those petal soft folds across his mouth as if you were intentionally teasing him now. Begging him to just take the plunge and take a bite out of you already.

It was almost enough to break his resolve. He wanted nothing more than to gorge himself on your delectably tainted body until he was too stuffed to move but the part of him that knows precisely how satisfying the payoff will be keeps him in check. It’s too soon -- still too soon to indulge -- and he has to make do with simply drooling all over your poor defenseless cunt while it creams around nothing except your hatred of him. Of all the meals Douma has enjoyed in his lifetime, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would be the one he’d relish the most.  

So caught up in the ecstasy inducing thought of finally eating you, truly eating you, he doesn’t notice you withdrawing a razor sharp pin from your hair until it’s right in his face. Blinking incandescent eyes at the foreign object, Douma allows himself another lazy lick at your still palpitating cunt and you seeth through gritted teeth, the glinting metal trembling in your hand.

“Get. Off.”

He acquiesces without a fuss.

You don’t even try to hide your surprise as you warily watch him sit up so that he’s kneeling on the futon between your spread legs. Clearly you’d expected a different reaction out of him and that makes Douma smile. You don’t seem to appreciate that though and you jerkily sit up straighter, jabbing the pin at him in warning.  

“Wipe that smirk off your face, demon!”

“Or what?” He asks sweetly. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Yes! I’m going to kill you and take revenge for my sister!”

Brows drawing up in affected pity, Douma pins you with a withering leer. “If you’re going to kill me anyway then I don’t see any reason why I should stop smiling.”

Balking, you sputter indignantly. “You - you horrid fiend --”

He moves too quick for you to react. His arm swings, slamming into your wrist with enough force to send the pin flying. You reel back with a haggard gasp but he grabs your forearm in a pinching grip and yanks you close again. Bringing his opposite hand up, Douma rams his palm into the underside of your outstretched limb. The resulting crack is instantaneous and horrible. Your face crumples in agony.

You scream.

“Now, now,” He purrs, letting your arm fall limp at your side. In a shell shocked panic, you try to reach for it as if to reset the bone yourself but he all too easily catches your shaking hand in his. Cradling it close to his chest just as one might do with a lover, Douma smiles at you as he effortlessly snaps your other arm just as he’d done the first. “Calm down. Everything will be alright.”

He can barely hear himself over your frenzied shrieking. It’s hard not to take pity on you when you’re like this, looking for all the world like nothing more than a wounded animal. Confused and so incredibly scared. Almost out of your mind with pain even as regret and terror flash at him through wide, glossy eyes.

It really was a shame too. You’d been so close to reaching full maturity but, well … this would probably do the trick just as well. Not right away, of course, because the only thing currently running through your mind were baser instincts that served no real purpose other than keeping you alive. You were in no mindset to humor your feelings of resentment and hate for him, or the loss of your sister for that matter.

Was that really what had prompted you to seek him out like this? Douma couldn’t exactly recall but it was a believable explanation. He was certainly willing to accept it, at least.

Deciding that the details didn’t really matter, he reaches out to grab your shoulders and shoves you back down on the bed. You wordlessly stare up at him in wild eyed terror as he rises above you like some sort of beautifully horrific wraith, preternaturally sharp teeth glinting in the low light when he grins at you. The shock must be starting to set in because your mouth moves but nothing comes out. Not so much as a peep, as though your voice box had been stolen.

He can’t help the deranged titter that bursts out of him. You were so damn cute .

“Don’t worry, darling. I won’t kill you. Not yet, anyway.” Contently sighing, Douma leans close to nuzzle his nose against yours in a mockingly affectionate gesture that only makes you shake harder. “You’ll stay here with me until you’re rotting from the inside out. I want you to despise me with every fiber of your being first and then, when you can’t even look at me without being consumed by rage, then I’ll finally eat you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

You don’t respond - maybe you can’t - but he does feel the moment your bladder finally gives out and seeping wet warmth spreads across the front of his pants. A shudder of revulsion works its way down his spine and he clucks at you, letting his mouth tug into a disappointed frown.

“Such a high maintenance little girl … what should I do with you until then, hmm?” Douma thoughtfully puts his head to one side but quickly perks up at a sudden thought that has him smiling from ear to ear with nothing short of manic glee. “Oh, I know! Maybe I should break your legs too. Then you won’t be able to do anything at all without my help.”

An insignificant, fraying part of your conscience that had managed to cling to its humanity must register what he’d said because you begin shaking your head, still as silent as any mute, and that just makes his grin widen.

“I bet you’ll really start to hate me then, won’t you?”

I've been drowning in uni work for the past days so I've been offline until now and daaaaaaaamnnnnnnn. This totally deserves to be questioned and criticized. We can't treat famous rich people like they can only be gods or devils because there's a lot of ground in between and no one is perfect, but especially it's wrong to blindly defend these people when their actions usually have a strong impact on the cultural trends that arise in societies. This objectively looks like white rich people riding off their privilege. Lots of extremely talented people work hard for years to even get a record label contract and then work even more to even score a Grammy nomination, let alone an AOTY win. So even if you're a talented instrumentalist and songwriter/lyricist, it's just not fair to go from "doesn't have any producing/songwriting credit history, unknown in the music industry, and has never worked on a record" to "AOTY Grammy winner". There's so many levels between those two stages and people actually work very hard to expand their musical/writing abilities and the cultural impact of their work in order to get recognition from the Recording Academy, which is the highest most valuable form of recognition a musical artist can get. People are supposed to earn this type of honor through hard work and talent, not because they live with a very succesful and recognized artist and therefore have easy access to jump all the levels and contribute to their record.

Like don't get me wrong. Joe obviously has musical formation and is skilled as an instrumentalist, that's just a fact. They were in quarantine in the same house and there were instruments (we know he plays music for fun), one day he sat at the piano and came up with a fun chorus for a song, Taylor was there and got inspired to write a song based on what she heard. Does he deserve credit for this creative contribution? Yes fair enough, he came up with the lyrics and the music. Then one other day he came up with a cool low melody on the piano, Taylor was there, got inspired to write lyrics over that and so Exile came to be. Does he deserve credit for that too? Yeah fair enough he came up with the melody. I believe her completely on this because unlike some "fans" I refuse to think she would lie about someone writing in a song, even if it's just one line.

Did he contribute significantly to the production of the album? That's definitely a possibility, he's artistic, he was there, and he even wrote on these songs. I'm not saying that didn't happen. But formally being credited for this several months after the album came out and after said album won a Grammy? And being credited only on enough to be elligible for a trophy, after it is known that said album won? Not fair or cool.

Maybe he really did contribute that much to the album (that's what the Academy's website is saying 🤷🏻‍♀️), but they both knew everyone would question this if they made it public bc there's no way it doesn't look nepotistic and that would negatively affect their campaign to win awards bc ppl would only focus on that. WB was credited on just 2 songs and ppl made it all about that🙄They didn't want this body of music and art to be overdshadowed by Taylor Swift's boyfriend being a part of it, which I kinda get bc ppl love to hate on her and discredit her and I do think her and Aaron wanted this to be about the art. And if they didn't win anything, they would've suffered that dragging (which tbh would've been a fucking NIGHTMARE) for nothing. So they "hid" his credit to avoid this being an isssue and decided he would only get the credit after the Grammys were over, so as to not draw attention to it. Well, hiding information is still dishonest and low-key unethical Taylor. I would love an explanation and even if it's the one I gave above, I would would like producer Joe to elaborate on his contributions. Unless the fucking Grammy trophy was actually a gift to him like some of you are suggesting, which would reduce this whole situation to absolutely pathetic and embarrasing. Her doing this sneaky shit for him just bc she loves him is the most dissapointing possible scenario to me. So I really hope he produced on this album as much as they're claiming he did.

What shocks me the most is how tf did the Recording Academy agree with this?!?!?! Like did she make some sort of deal with them where they knew Joe was submitted as a producer but they didn't show this information? Did she give them solid proof that he really did so much for this album and they agreed to give him the credit after the Grammys? Maybe these rich people eventually drown so deeply in their privileges that morality fades to the background. I don't speak their language, maybe this type of nepotism is normalized and aceptable to them. Dissapointing but unsurprising I guess. Maybe Taylor is a much shittier person than I thought and after this I do think it's possible that she's been consciously queer baiting to profit from a marginalized community. I really hope I'm wrong tho and I really hope Joe really worked his ass off on this album coz ewww otherwise.

~🇨🇷OG CR Anon

Good thoughts here.

Oh, and i can't remember if i ever talked fully about my Happ Redemption Ending Fic Ideas For Charon!

Basically HE BECOMES GRANDPA! The main redemption would come about through reuniting him with rotom, but then i thought way too much about what he would do after the redemption too. I kinda turned it into a whole fangame idea, about an au where dawn/lucas/whatever-you-named-your-protagonist doesn't exist, and instead we explore from the perspective of a galactic grunt and see the day saved through everyone's friendship with their boss helping to talk him down. And along the way of your character helping out all the admins and bringing them closer together, you'd naturally pick one as your favourite. And cos the protagonist grunt doesn't have anywhere to stay after the team disbands, redeemed!Charon would adopt you as his grandkid. Or you could get a new mom/dad/sibling/boyfriend/girlfriend/roommate with everyone else, and find equal amounts of daww! Tho i never ended up making this project cos i got too tied up in squeeing over these cute happy endings for sad villains and like... Couldnt write the actual beginning, lol

So yeah! Anyway! The charons!

The happy epilogue for him would involve him and his reunited rotom returning to the abandoned Old Chateau where he lived as a kid. You helping him through his self worth issues means he's finally given up on his dream of being a famous scientist at any cost, no matter how much it hurts people. But he hasn't given up on his dreams entirely, he's just now able to research pokemon out of pure passion for pokemon again, instead of for money. So he starts over again from zero in the place where it began! Him, rotom, and newly adopted protagonist get together to rebuild the house into a sanctuary for ghost type pokemon. He helps all the gastlys that haunted the place find new homes, and the people of eterna city stop being scared of the big ol spooky mansion. And he never becomes rich or famous for it, but he ends up strangely happier than he ever imagined.

:)

So yeh that is my dumb headcanons

Oh! And also i gave him a team of a banette and a mismagius during his time with team galactic. Cos i thought it would help show his progression thru the redemption and foreshadow it a bit, yknow? Like he tries to be big ol grump and says that he sees pokemon as mere tools, but is oblivious to the fact that he's totally become attatched to them and hasn't completely changed from when he was a kid. Lots of cute tsundere-towards-my-pets scenes! I characterized the mismagius as equally as much of a grump as charon, basically like a sassy egotistical kitty cat. He'd be all 'hmpf i'm the boss' and have the nonverbal equivelant of a sass battle, always batting charon's stuff off the shelves and such. And the banette would be an innocent little soul that doesnt realize her trainer is evil, and thinks he's the bestest best ever! So by the end they'd also be happy now he's more openly affectionate with them, and super excited to meet rotom, and basically just imagine these self indulgent fluffy cute scenes with meeeee!! And i dunno how i was gonna justify it, but i wanted to somehow have him talk to his pokemon? I thought of the banette always being like 'Yes Doctor!' and then in the end he's like 'its okay if you want to call me grandpa'. And the mismagius having a rare moment of emotion and being like 'i was so scared you wouldnt come back' (regarding admins + protag going to the distortion world) And rotom being like 'aaaaa i'm an auntie now???'

Oh oh oh and developinh charon's relationshios with the other admins!! I liked the sass him and saturn had in the anime and i headcanoned maybe they worked together in the science division before getting promoted to admin, and maybe saturn like... They weren't really Friends but he kinda at least believes the old man could be something better, and mourns the lost potential? And then they actually could go from 'that guy i enjoy messing with' to a more friendly rivalry to a genuine friendship someday. I think saturn would be the most proud if charon ever became redeemed, yknow? Oh and i have complex thoughts about his relationship with cyrus! Like i think they're both intending to use each other- charon thinks he has the upper hand and this is just some god delusion dope he can bleed dry of precious money, cyrus totally has him clocked and finds him useful cos he's easily manipulated with that same money. But at the same time as they're sassing about each other under their breath, they often end up stuck together in a lot of situations, cos they're the two most emotionless/cynical ones. That sort of 'i don't wanna get involved with that trio's nonsense antics, oh i guess you had the same idea' friendship. But then also i thought there was a little more complexity as to why they're subconciously drawn together? Charon sees cyrus as a mirror of his young adult mid-fall-to-evil self. And as much as he tries to laugh it off that cyrus is still a little too idealistic to outsmart him, he also projects a lot of hate on him that he wishes he could take out on himself. And at the same time there's some subconcious part of him that feels sympathy for the kid and sees this as a chance to protect someone from going down the same path. (Though his pride keeps him from acting on this uncharacteristically kind impulse.) And at the same time Cyrus's own hate-friendship with charon is fueled by his past too. He still remembers how his own grandpa failed to rescue him from his traumatic childhood, so he finds it hard to keep his anger under control around a horrible old man like this. But also some part of him finds him almost... Comforting? Like.. He's at least honest about being dishonest, yknow? And he's not remotely scary. All those memories of being so small and powerless in the face of various adults, whether it was his actively abusive parents or his well-intentioned grandpa who failed him when he needed it most. Being in a position of power over that sort of trash adult is kind of amazing! But at the same time Cyrus starts to realize how pathetic and unhappy this guy is, and how he just lashes out to puff up his ego and pretend he knows what he's doing with his life. Plus he also can't help remembering the happier memories of his grandpa too, even though this new gramps couldnt be further away from him. So it's a very complex friendship of two men who have no clue that they are friends! When did cyrus start thinking 'this man's denial of his sadness is further proof this world needs to be fixed'? When did charon start thinking 'i should stop him from making my same mistakes'? And umm also i had the thought of a dumb scene in the epilogue where charon introduces cyrus to rotom and cyrus uses his tech skills to make a lil rc car for the haunted tangerine to ride around in. TEAM GALACTIC I KNO I LOVE YOUR SASSY INFIGHTING BUT ALSO HAVE YOU CONSIDERED BEING FRIENDS

Okay okay im rambling but basically Ideas

So Many Ideas

So little actual skill at fic writing

Okay gudbye gudnite lol