#just lately the hyperfixation is on my boys | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

somany-fandoms-solittle-time · 9 months

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ya know what..... Kalim is one of those sunshine characters that naturally interacts and "befriends" so many characters. It's always the sunshine characters that I'm drawn to put in a giant poly-hole where basically everyone is in love with them. It just makes sense.

Kalim x Silver: He's always waking Silver up in class and tries to help is drowsy spells. They're also just one of the few genuinely sweet guys on campus so it's pure fluff. A bonus advantage is that since Silver is a Trained Knight (or on the road to be) he can protect Kalim from assassination attempts.

Kalim x Ruggie: Eat The Rich w/ a twist. My precious hyena boy DESERVES to get married to a sincere Sugar Daddy (or as my gf and I like to say, Sugar Bestie™). He's worked hard enough and Kalim is one of the few upper class individuals that would NEVER use his money or status to control, manipulate or abuse another. He just wants to help out and the endless positivity would not only bring Rugs outta his comfort zone but would also impact those in his hometown A LOT.

Riddle x Kalim: Not a favorite, but I get it. Two kids from wealthy families (one more wealthy than the other) who were kinda isolated from the "regular" world and gotta figure shit out for themselves away from their former caretakers. Obvi, very different contexts and personality but that's what helps them depend on one another. Even when they can't relate, they can Listen and Grow together.

Floyd x Kalim: ARE YOU KIDDING THEY'RE ADHD BUDDIES?!?!? Not only can they relate with similar neurological issues, but their common interests can be a safe zone for them to bond. On top of that, even with their reckless personalities and their overall lack of forethought, Floyd is STRONG and could protect Kalim from any pushback or consequences. They're also both raised by Extreme Capitalist (even thou we don't exactly know what the Tweels parents DO) so the business sense and exposure to the darker side of things probably wouldn't be too much of an adjustment for either side.

Obvi Jamil x Kalim: I know not everyone likes this ship (and considering the dynamic and difference in power/status I TOTALLY get it). Even if the relationship is seen through platonic soulmates, brother-like, or just a 'we-were-stuck-together-for-years-and-now-we-don't-know-how-to-live-apart' sitcom kinda vibe they'll ALWAYS be linked together. Besides, an angsty, complicated childhood friends to lovers story with repressed mutual pinning is a guilty pleasure of mine lol!

Whoever he gets paired with, regardless of if it's a ship that has an anchor in canon interactions or PURELY fueled by fanon crack, there's a billion tropes to work with before even having to dip into AU or Crossover. Kalim is a COMPLEX CHARACTER with so many random lore drops and info that has so much potential. Even when people are writing or creating fan-produces with a more 2d version of his character, he's still lovable!! He's one of the few reoccurring characters in a cast full of obnoxious, weird, arrogant, awful, annoying, egotistical, pigheaded teenage boys with the power of NUKES.... And isn't completely terrible.

Lemme reiterate, that I LOVE so many characters in Twisted Wonderland but boy do these kids get on my nerves. They're all little assholes in some way or another, but there's a range between "okay, pretty standard high schooler" to "IDC IF YOURE TRAUMATIZED NO AMOUNT OF BACKSTORY CAN EXCUSE YOUR ATTITUDE AND BEHAVIOR!!!!! YOU'RE A FUCKING INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL WTF" and Kalim is a lot chiller. He's irrational sometimes and often does things without thinking it through.... But he's also a kid who's allowed to make mistakes and grow now that he's away from the bubble he grew up in. He can interact with people of all walks of life and get that perspective.

And depending on who he's paired with, romantic or otherwise, it's fascinating and heart wrenching and awe inspiring to watch him grow through the lens and experiences of the other person(s).

.........thank you for coming to my Ted talk 😌

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aeb-art · 3 months

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i was trying to make up side characters for @8um8le's space friends and thought "every show needs a grump"

i'm not gonna finish this though, so y'all can have it now o7

#2024 #in which crown gets hogtied lmao #stellar city #sc space friends #sf hills #sf crown #sf roach #you might be thinking 'ezra there is already a bug character' to which i say: i like bugs there are never enough bugs #i wanted roach to have a hat that keeps his face in permanent shadow bc it makes him look angrier and more menacing if just a bit #it's also silly thinking like… he looks tall compared to the boys but he's probably only like 5'5'' at best haha #i think it'd be funny if roach was like jarringky kind to everyone other than the main boys #like he takes his hat off and holds it too his chest and does a lil bow with a sweet smile #and the boys are like wtf you only hate us??? and yes yes he does #man… i have never drawn more comics than when i started hyperfixating on sun and moon that's so wild #actually i think almost all the stuff i've drawn since that started in sept have made me so happy #feels like my love of art increased tenfold it's insane #and that love feels the most prominent when i'm just… doodling other people's au and oc on here lately yknow?#so much joy packed in that even if they never see it: this was just some normal person's little world that i get to visit for a little while #that's so special to me #anyway that's probably too much introspection for today so!#thanks for reading these tags if you did :) i hope you all have a lovely day xoxoxo

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feydfuckernation · 10 months

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going to try and sleep now but adding chess medieval au to the list of chess aus i need to stop thinking about so much but won't because it has inevitably taken up space in my brain that was never available in the first place ❤️

#watching narnia again did this to me i'm sure of it #lion.txt #the tirolean spa (my brain) once again has the chess boys in it #i haven't written fic of any kind since late 2019 but i am both plotting AND scheming. god help us all.#chess the musical #never play to win a pawn #<- owe my life to aron mimzowitsch for this quote in the hopes that i might finally do something instead of just daydreaming about ideas #we will simply have to wait and see how long the chess hyperfixation lasts.......

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spinnysocks · 6 days

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old lion guard rp blogs my beloved

#honestly i wish i was on here when people were actively doing them #if i was as hyperfixated on tlg back then as i am now #i would've gone insane for those posts i just know it #i mean. i am NOW #i saw one (1) nduli one and i was like YES!!! MY BOY!!!#i would genuinely be down to make an rp blog #but two problems with that #1. i think i'm late to the ball game (is that the saying? idk)#2. my rp skills are very dusty #the last time i was in an rp? prob almost a year #and the last time with someone i didn't know irl? errrrrr. a long time #but still. i'd do it #even if it was an rp blog in the sense that i'd just post how the characters would #it would be fun #i'm thinking about it #the lion guard #tlg #rp blogs #spinny rambles

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dogboymortis · 1 month

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today i listened to the 2011 version of twin fantasy today as well as the entirety of my back is killing me baby, i've also been in the middle of a week long mental breakdown

#[text]#car seat headrest #csh #twin fantasy (mirror to mirror)#twin fantasy (face to face)#my back is killing me baby #mbikmb #listening to 'famous prophets (minds)' and then 'twin fantasy (those boys)' back to back just... ugh i'm not okay #i haven't been okay LMFAO #but this just. AGH. GET MEOWTTA HEREEEEE #especially after listening to the face to face version of the album too... GODDDDDDDDDDDD #and listen. mbikmb is a heartbreaking album in it's regard?#because it just talks about late teen/early adult years and it reminds me of simpler times #in a good way and in a bad way also #listening to him singing about those feelings as a person who's went thru these feelings just feels bad #breaking: internet transdog mansplains empathy in regard to a hyperfixation #plus mbikmb is a really interesting listen because that was in the era where will's influences would have really been seen thru his style #of music production back then like. i can hear animal collective/the beatles/the beach boys in this album so blatantly #im so enthralled by car seat headrest i could talk for literal hours about just this alone

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angelmichelangelo · 2 years

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someone PLEASE talk to me about moon knight im gonna eat my pillow i need to talk about THEM

#them being steven marc and jake #and layla my beloved 🤧🥰#ik im late but i just finished watching the entire series in one hit and now im ready for my hyperfixation to take over #🕺🏻🕺🏻 let’s dance boys #pls my asks are open i am desperate #moon knight #marvel

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thelostboys87 · 7 months

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i fear 23 year old me enjoys the supernatural halloween samhain episode as much as 13 year old me did I’m giggling and kicking my feet

#like it’s silly it’s dumb it’s fun it’s got castiel being a mean baddie #it’s soooooo 2008 #sorry s4-5 spn is top tier in a late 2000s way #my Halloween hyperfixation is kicking in #esp with beau this is one of the moments where like #okay I feel like beaus hyperfixations and special interests low key become mine bc he is my hyperfixation #but I already had Halloween hyperfixations before him so now it’s just amplified #IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!!!!!!! I’ll be alone on halloween so at least I have my fave guy to write #beau would love early supernatural I fear #mid to late 2000s lover boy au when??#SHOUTOUT TO HALLOWEEN 2008!!! raising Samhain to break the 66 seals to free lucifer with the girls #yeah whatever the humanisation of cas is interesting but I love old style cas #like yeah we’re gonna smite this whole town btw. get out.#my plans for the WS angels #low key would love to take the whole seals and lucifer stuff but I don’t want WS to be #an explicitly Christian apocalypse

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that-tall-queer-bassist · 1 year

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Can I get an applause for turning in my assignment 3 minutes before it was due?

#/j #i mean i did get it in on time by the definition of due dates #but boy i was stressed #i forgot it was so late and hyperfixated on the assignment #came out of the focus and realized I had 5 minutes to troubleshoot if the website up and died on me again #and then it just worked so im all good!#ish.#i still need to read and annotate something for my morning class #but thats due at 10 i can manage #<- optimistic fool #when will i learn? that my actions have consequences /ref

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faux-ee · 2 years

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might take a break from anime and go researching about 17th century dead men

#I wish i were joking #if my next hyperfixation is gonna be frickin descartes i will just riot #anyways idk just rlly feeling like getting into philosophy history lately #this is bcs of the lack of new content (no bsd chapter to theorize abt this month in sooo heartbroken /j)#*I'm #i hate autocorrect #I'm rlly weird abt history ok.#sometimes i look at history and say to myself lol that's just the shonen rival trope #and i genuinely hope there is a bungo stray dogs for every field of history i get into #history of science for example #men can be so gay and petty they become real life version of anime boys #/hj #and i as ur resident adhder do need hyperfixation to learn everything #and i hyperfixate the most when shipping #i wrote a 20 page single spaced research paper for my fav historical ship #and i don't regret it one bit #lol #back to my 'no fic on ao3 I'm so gonna create this relationship tag myself'#era

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sojourntime-aux · 4 months

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None of your friends into your hyperfixation

Not enough money to buy the source material of your hyperfixation

Watches everything on YouTube about

Doom scrolls in the AO3 tags for it

Feels like you've missed out when people are still actively into it

#this is mostly about Splatoon #but i guess #it can apply to many things #ive just had squid brain rot lately and no one who really GETS it #and i just got my hands on 2 and boy if keep playing at this pace ill beat it all in a night #and then where will i be???#back to hyperfixation pit of dispair

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ma1dita · 4 months

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bedtime stories

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: bitch this was supposed to be a blurb. 2.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don't mind at all. You won’t admit a lot of things to Luke Castellan, but perhaps he knows something you don’t. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

warnings: none, banter and fluff on a night shift

a/n: Introducing luke castellan x trouble!reader… this is just gonna be ongoing blurbs and one shots of an idea in my head (and my latest hyperfixation) reader is essentially reformed unhinged bitch now camp mom and it’s enemies to friends to lovers. Working through reading the pjo series hehe

(posted 1/16/24, beta’ed by the lovely @ttulipwritezz @mrsaluado & @lixzey thank you bunches)

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Dragging your feet across the dirt of the forest floor, you sigh to yourself in the quiet night air. It’s gonna be another long night and with the beep on your digital watch, you blearily peer at the time and sigh. Almost 11. Swaying slightly, you whistle a familiar tune as your nimble hands straighten out the deck chairs near the firepit, pick up trash to toss into the receptacle, and turn off the lights in the dining hall. All on the way to check Cabin 7, mind you, and the Apollo kids will undoubtedly loop you into singing a song with them before you shut the lights off and close the curtains.

Gods, your dad is definitely gonna hear about this in the morning.

It’s not like Mr. D ever really cares, or listens, more focused on droning on about missing his wife and playing pinochle even when you rattle off his…your to-do list for the week to keep Camp Half-Blood running and the younger demigods in mostly one piece. Honestly, he should be grateful he has you, and even if he is, he’ll never let you hear it. At least you’re Chiron’s favorite.

A shadow passes your field of view, and before you can rub at your sleepy eyes, strong hands pin you to the side of a tree on the dirt path you were supposed to take across camp.

Sorry, let’s correct that—you’re one of Chiron’s favorites. The other all-star camper stares at you like you’re a three-headed dog under the beam of his flashlight.

“Just me, Castellan,” you grumble, a bit winded as you blink harshly at the bright light. “Still doing checks.”

“You’re losing your touch. You making a habit of going to bed late?” Luke smirks, and it’s actually annoying how he always looks like he knows something you don’t.

“You always pin campers to trees?”

“Just the pretty ones.” His smirk turns into a sly grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Okay loser, I’ve got cabins to check,” you drone as you push off from the tree. “6 cut into my time after staying there longer than I had to. The little ones kept asking these otherworldly philosophical questions and Annabeth just laughed at me while I tried to not pluck my eyelashes out one by one.”

Your clipboard taps lightly against your hip despite the aggression in your voice and Luke laughs much like his little sister, a burst of sunlight overflowing into the dreary and mundane. Your lips quirk upward before you can stop and remind yourself of who you’re talking to. The tall boy reaches behind him to scratch the nape of his neck and sighs, sucking at his teeth.

“You’re always doing the most, huh?”

“Who else is going to, my dad? He’s probably already out like a light.” Once, you found your dad asleep at his desk after dinner, snoring loudly instead of keeping watch. You started taking more night shifts after that.

“Well, no. You know I’m here to help you, even if you’ll never admit it.” Luke extends a hand to you so it’s easier to navigate the step back onto the dirt-trodden path, but there’s no fun in that, so you hop around him and start walking away. The sound of his footsteps fall and match yours as he follows you, both in tandem like the sound of a steady heartbeat.

“The day you catch me admitting anything about you is the day the Underworld freezes over. You should know that by now.”

“Woooooow, so I don’t get a thank you for singing the Apollo kids to sleep? You should’ve seen the look on their faces when I walked in and not you. They ended the song pretty quickly after I opened my mouth to croak out a chorus,” he says, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and nudging your side as you both laugh.

He’s a terrible singer, to be honest. Not even the Fates would’ve expected that from someone who otherwise seems like a perfect boy. Sometimes you wonder what he’s done in a past life to have it so easy–to look like he’s been chiseled by Michelangelo, have the athletic prowess of ten Spartan soldiers, and the heart of a hero only legends could get right. He’s probably the closest thing to an actual hero here at camp. You often find yourself looking at him in hopes of finding a crack in the porcelain of his perfection, but any fault of his seems to just build up his endurance in his quest for glory.

Maybe that’s why your dad doesn’t like him, his aspirations for something greater than the camp that’s kept you safe all these years, though the multiple complaints and headaches the both of you have given him as squabbling teenagers must’ve added onto that. Sometimes, though, the way he helps ease your load prods a funny feeling you do your best not to acknowledge in your stomach. Luke walks ahead shining the flashlight onto the dark path so you both don’t trip. It’s there now, at the sight of him offering an arm for you to latch onto to hop over fallen branches.

Mental note: tell the satyrs to move that in the morning.

As you hurdle over the brambles, you let go immediately after you steady your feet, moving his hand that’s holding the flashlight back towards the path with no other words. You are your father’s daughter after all, and he knows this—stubborn and your name have the same face.

Moving further towards your destination, the light reveals a teenage couple entangled within each other’s arms at the base of a tree out there for everyone to see in the moonlight.

“Jeez, guys, alright— pack it up, wrap it up! Could’ve at least found somewhere private… It’s curfew already, if I see you two again it’s a citation.”

The boy blushes and mumbles an apology to you, scurrying back to cabin 7, and you raise an eyebrow at a sheepish son of Hermes who swears they were all in their beds when he was singing to them.

“I don’t wanna go back to my cabin, all the boys are gross…” the girl whines, cheeks flushed from embarrassment as she flutters her eyelashes at you and Luke. You sigh. What has the world come to that young demigods are entrusted to the care of two people who barely consider themselves adults?

“Well, if you’re still in 11 with this one,” you simper, blatantly pointing at Luke, “I can’t blame you. He’s gross. Come by mine tomorrow and I’ll get you privacy curtains, okay? Trust me Yvonne, you don’t think boys are all that gross if you like kissing them.”

She nods, smiling charmingly at the two of you, before brushing past Luke and winking, “See you inside!”

Your head swivels to look at Luke with a coy expression, “There’s no way she’s not an Aphrodite.”

Luke huffs as he clicks his flashlight on and off. His hands are always fidgeting, always searching for something to do. He’s more like his dad than he thinks, carrying the quieter traits of quick fingers and more obvious ones like his constant search for amusement. Talking to you consistently satiates that itch.

“Aphrodite isn’t the only god that attracts attractive people, you know.”

“Oh? Do tell, because if she’s one of you, your cabin’s gonna be extra trouble,” your mouth curves into a smile, and he thinks he likes it more when you’re trying to be mean to him like this because the back and forth between you two is a comfort Luke cherishes. The words have lost their bite over the years, and there are no more cuts and bruises besides an occasional wounded ego, but it’s still entertaining, to say the least. He can’t imagine a day without hearing the teasing lilt of your voice, always easy to prod at and always wanting to have the last word.

“My dad is the god of thieves and messengers. We’re fast, smart, charming, and also good-looking. Do the math.”

“Also apparently the ones with the biggest egos, but okay.” There it is. He shoves you and you trip over your own feet falling fast.

“Hey! Jerk.”

“Definitely a daughter of Dionysus, crazy as always, and clumsy too.” Luke’s nose crinkles at the sight of your crumpled frame.

“Your hand is like the size of my face, what the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

A fleeting thought in the back of your mind reasons that maybe violence is the answer, but he’s still not finished making fun of you even after he helps you up.

“And vulgar! What a shocker.”

“Ugh. You better hope your dad stops populating because if there’s any more that come here and act like you? I’m quitting.”

Luke watches you gaze at the heavens, probably looking for a fuck to give and he snickers at how easily you give in nowadays. Maybe he’s the one losing his touch—usually you’d put up more of a fight to argue.

“You wouldn’t. You love this job. Camp. S’why you’re not as fun anymore, trouble.”

A noise of agreement leaves you as you glare at him and the stupid nickname back from when you used to wreak havoc just because you could, a direct juxtaposition to the honorary position you hold today. Finally following him up the front steps of Cabin 11, Luke opens the door and beckons you in, pushing at your hip with his knuckles.

Checking this place last has become a habit with Luke helping you out, and all the kids—Hermes’, minor gods’, and unclaimed, love it when you come to stop by before lights out. They especially loved the later bedtime, but hugs and cool stories from you were a close second.

“Everyone good and ready for bed in here? Sorry it took so long guys,” you say, visually scanning the perimeter and matching faces to bunks, seeing them all settled beneath their sheets, all except for one Luke Castellan. He’s still leaning against the doorframe, breath grazing your shoulder as he hands you a copy of his log from the other cabins he kindly relieved you from.

“What, no bedtime story this time?” He says through hooded eyes, and though he won’t admit it, he adores the sound of your voice. Luke does anything he can to get your attention to hear it more. It almost has a calming effect on him, and maybe it’s the fact that your dad can cause and cure madness, anxiety, and all alike, so something in him believes you do the same, powers or not. One look from him has you sputtering out snarky remarks; different strategies, same results—works every time.

“Castellan…” He grins at the look on your face, and tiny voices pop up from around the cabin, all asking for a bedtime story. Chris even starts a chant from his top bunk, making you want to hurl your clipboard at his head. Hypnos is calling your name at this point, and you’d do anything to crawl into your own safe haven in Cabin 12, but your heartstrings pull at the sight of the little ones pouting, hoping for you to tuck them in with a blanket of comforting words and stories of something more than what these walls meagerly provide. Camp Half-Blood only keeps them safe for so long, and not a lot of them make it out of here alive. You and Luke both know that being two of the oldest at camp, and his smug expression as he settles into his bed is confirmation that you’re about to give in.

“Fine. One quick story, and then everyone goes to sleep okay? Who wants to sit on the floor with me?”

You take your place sitting on the ground next to the foot of Luke’s bunk as he lays upside down on the twin-sized mattress, peering at you through one open eye as the younger children, mostly the unclaimed ones—drag their blankets and form a circle in the middle of the room, waiting patiently for you to start enchanting them with something to occupy their tired minds. Acting— that’s the gift your father had to give you; this time you decide to tell the story of Atalanta and the golden apples, how she ran from love and it still found her in the end, and how some stories can have good endings, despite what’s often found in Greek legend. Multiple tired eyes droop closed as you finish the story and carry the ones who’ve fallen into Hypnos’ embrace back into their bunks, tucking them in with kisses on their foreheads and it leaves you with a warm feeling that will help you brave the chill on your walk back.

Admittedly, this next part is your favorite part on nights like these. The overflowing cabin of rowdy pranksters and babbling children is as quiet as the secret you hold close to your heart, tiptoeing back towards Luke’s space and draping his blanket over his muscular frame, exhausted from another day of trying to achieve greatness. Your hand brushes a dark curl away from his forehead, fingertips ghosting his pale skin like a kiss you’d never have the guts to give. With everything you have in you, you summon thoughts of serenity and peace, hoping whatever keeps him up at night lets him rest for even a few hours. You don’t pray often, finding yourself spiting your father instead of honoring him on most days, but in the dim light of Cabin 11, you find yourself making time to do so for a pain in your ass called Luke Castellan.

Perhaps he knows something you don’t after all, the crease in his forehead relaxing as you pull your fingertips away.

“Sweet dreams, angelface.”

Mental note: Put his ass to work tomorrow for falling asleep halfway through the story.

It’ll only give him another excuse to ask you to tell it again a few nights later. You find yourself not minding that, a sliver of a smile pulling at your face as you walk towards the door and shut the lights off, a sleeping son of Hermes illuminated by the gentle shine of the moon.

You’d never admit that, though.

—

“you steady me and stir me

all at once.”

-Tanya Wright

ask to be added to luke/general taglist!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo imagine #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x reader fanfic #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #luke castellan fluff #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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jewelleria · 1 month

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I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be.

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate.

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified.

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map.

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle.

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more.

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop.

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments.

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on.

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not.

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways.

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine.

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war.

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this:

I am a Jew.

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love.

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners.

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee!

Then they sent me this:

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die.

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind.

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake.

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired.

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people?

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews.

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like.

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for.

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war.

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why.

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be.

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

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kelthebarb · 1 year

Text

the dark

pairings - carl grimes x fem!reader

genre - fluffy smut, slight angst in the beginning

warnings - p in v penetration, use of pet names ??(baby, mama, love, pretty girl), dirty talk, praise, carl’s a bit ooc, kissing, cussing, CARL & READER ARE 19!! (during the 6 year timeskip, if carl was still alive)

request: anon - ik you haven’t done any fanfics but can you do a carl grimes x reader? smutty ofc 😏😏 but the reader is laying in bed in the dark and carl comes through the window and then they fuck cus yk straight to the point 🤭. but he calls her “mama” bc ahhhh carl saying mama is my new hyperfixation 😁 anyways-

a/n: OOOH LORD, stop it y’all makin me act uppp 😭😭 anyway absolutely, carl calling you mama? BRO.

y/n laid on her bed, only half asleep. she hadn’t been able to completely shut her eyes since the bridge blew up with rick on it. she had stood there, right in front of carl to stop him from running towards it. she felt terrible, she herself was crying. watching carl break down and almost beg her to let him help his dad, to go save him from the flaming pit of walkers. even if it had been a few months, and carl had seemed to get a little better, she still lied awake at night, his face and the way he clung on to her while crying later that evening haunting her.

a few taps on her window were enough to startle her out of her train of thought. she jumped up and turned her head. somewhat hiding in the bushes, she recognized the silhouette of a sheriff’s hat and long hair that fell to the man’s shoulders. she scoffed and walked over to the window, opening it and taking the hat off his head.

“carl, what’re you doing? it’s late as hell,” she asked, crouching to meet his eye.

“couldn’t sleep. can i come in? i don’t wanna look like a creep, staring at a girl through her bedroom window,” carl said.

“isn’t that what you were just doing?”

“not necessarily.”

y/n chuckled and opened her window up as far as it would go, making there enough room for carl to slip through.

“quiet! i live with people! you’re gonna wake them up, dingus!” y/n whisper-shouted at the boy, who had just almost fallen straight to the floor.

“sorry,” carl grimaced. once he was through the window, he took his hat off of y/n’s head and kissed her lips.

“you sure you couldn’t sleep? or did you just wanna see me?” she asked, resting her hands on his midsection.

he pretended to think for a second, “both.”

he leaned down a bit too kiss her again, one hand on her hip and the other cupping her jaw. the kiss became heated, y/n standing on her toes to get closer to carl. the two started stumbling to her bed, almost tripping over themselves as carl laid her down on her back. he continued to kiss her lips, then moving down her jaw to her neck. he littered it with little purple marks - they’d definitely be noticeable in the morning.

she quietly hummed at his actions, entangling her hands in his hair. carl stopped for a second, lifting his head to admire his work. he chuckled, going back up and kissing y/n’s forehead.

“i love you,” he said, resting his head on hers.

“i love you, you little tease,” y/n giggled, smacking his arm playfully.

“is that so?”

“mm-hm,” y/n hummed with a smile on her face.

“well,” carl got close to her ear, “say the word and i’ll stop teasing.”

y/n’s breath hitched. she clenched her thighs together, trying to get any kind of friction. she looked up at carl with big eyes and whispered, “please.”

carl smiled, dipping his head to kiss her again. he undid the buttons on his flannel, tossing it to the floor next to the bed. y/n slipped off her shirt as quickly as she could. carl tugged at the waistband of her sweatpants, sliding them down her legs. he leaned up over her, unbuttoning his pants with his right hand and his left on the pillow right above y/n’s head for support.

his jeans were soon on the floor along with the rest of their clothes. carl could tell that y/n was getting impatient; she was rubbing her thighs together desperately.

“hey, baby, only a little longer,” he said, spreading her legs apart. “just take off your bra for me, yeah?”

y/n nodded, lifting her back a bit to unclasp it. she threw it to an unknown spot, not even caring where it went.

carl chuckled, “eager, aren’t you, mama? you want me inside you? want me to fuck you dumb?”

y/n whined in response, becoming a bit annoyed at carl’s lack of initiative at the moment. carl smirked and tilted his head to press more kisses to her neck. she moaned softly, practically begging him to stop it and just fuck her.

“didn’t you say no more teasing?” y/n asked, pouting. he kissed her lips, biting them a little so she opened her mouth with a gasp. he shoved his tongue over hers, lapping at it with desperation.

he pulled away, breathing heavily. “sorry baby, you just look so cute when you’re needy.”

he pulled down his boxers, letting his cock spring out. y/n had seen it a few times before, but it never failed to surprise her.

“lift your hips for me, love?” carl asked, tapping the side of her hips as she elevated them. “there we go, that’s my girl.”

carl slid himself in, her slick making it easy to do so. he groaned loudly as she clenched around him, hiding his face in the crook of her neck to shut himself up. he panted loudly in her ear, kissing her cheek while waiting for her to adjust.

“you okay, mama? can i move now?” he asked.

“yeah, please,” she breathed. carl started off slow, going deep and drawing long moans from y/n.

“you gotta be quiet baby, we don’t wanna get caught,” carl whispered. he went a little faster, making y/n dig her nails into his back. carl lifted his head to look at her, enjoying the way her face scrunched up with each thrust.

she noticed him looking and immediately turned red, she lifted her hand to cover her face, but carl moved it.

“nuh uh pretty girl, i wanna see you,” he said, connecting his lips with hers again. he shoved his tongue back into her mouth, swallowing her noises. his cock twitched when her hands went up his back to tug on his hair. he reached his hand down and started rubbing her clit.

y/n was close, she could feel it, but carl’s mouth felt too good on hers that she couldn’t form a coherent sentence. she came without warning, surprising carl entirely.

“yeah? only made you cum once and you’re already fucked out, baby,” he said, thrusting harder. he got louder as his climax neared.

“i’m- fuck, i’m gonna cum,” he whimpered with his forehead against hers.

“inside! d-do it inside, please,” y/n gasped as he hit her sweet spot over again. she felt him spill his cum inside of her, groaning as he pulled out.

“c’mon love, let’s go shower.”

#carl grimes #carl grimes smut #the walking dead #twd x reader #carl grimes x you #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x reader #twd spoilers #smut

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stvharrngton · 6 months

Text

kinktober: day thirty one

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

kink: squirting

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, fingering and oral (f receiving)

word count: 0.7k

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @wheel-of-hyperfixation @mooonyweasley @steveshairspray @jjmaybankswifes-blog @steves-babysitter @vxoguesworld

a/n: quick note but this is a wrap!! kinktober is finally finished and only 2 days late lol but thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed these blurbs <3

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

It all felt too good.

Steve was between your legs, his fingers teasing your pussy as he licked at your clit. He was soft with it, gentle and sweet. The tips of two of his fingers were barely inside you, spreading your arousal all around, his tongue and lips swirling and kissing at your pussy.

Your hair was spread out against the pillows, your thighs spread as wide as they would go. One hand was clutching at the sheets, the other found its way into Steve’s hair, threading your fingers through his soft tresses. You moaned wildly at the intense feeling he was causing you, warmth was spreading throughout your body as the pleasure overcame you.

When Steve finally plunged his fingers inside you properly, his lips wrapped around your clit it sent you reeling. Back arching from the bed as Steve curled his fingers inside you, you cried out his name, using every last breath you could muster to let him know how good he was making you feel.

“Oh my God,” you moaned, as Steve switched between slow strokes of his fingers and fast paced thrusts. Suddenly everything felt hotter, wetter, your juices leaking from your hole and coating Steve’s fingers, leaking down onto the sheets below.

“Does that feel good, honey?” Steve asked, taking his lips from you momentarily but his fingers never stopped, curling his digits to find that little sweet spot of yours, “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, you taste so sweet.”

Everything felt so intense, your whole body was on fire. You could barely keep your eyes open, your gaze only flitting down to Steve every now and then. He soon went back to licking and sucking at your pussy, his eyes fluttering closed as he was fully engrossed in you.

It didn’t take long for Steve to find your sweet spot and it was like a switch had flipped inside of you. The pads of his fingers brushed against it over and over, again and again, it had your clit throbbing and your pussy aching. Your hips bucked up off the mattress, essentially grinding your cunt against Steve’s mouth.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried, “Fuck, Steve–” you struggled to string together a sentence, goosebumps erupted on your skin as everything went white hot. This feeling was different, something you had never experienced before, not this hot, not this intense.

“Y’gonna cum, baby?” Steve cooed, “Can feel you squeezing my fingers, fuck, you’re so wet.” He replaced his mouth with his thumb on your clit, rubbing soft, lazy circles as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, doing his best to keep touching that spot that was making you go crazy.

You could only respond with a nod and a jumble of moans and whines of the boy’s name, a shrill yes tumbling from your lips. Everything went fuzzy, you saw stars as you felt the wave of pleasure crash over you, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. You felt yourself gush over Steve’s fingers, your pussy and inner thighs were soaked.

“Oh, Steve,” you wailed as your body tensed up, your thighs shaking as Steve began to slow his movements. Your ears rang, you felt like you were on cloud nine, like your soul had been removed from your body momentarily.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard Steve groan quietly. His eyes were trained on your pussy, on where you’d just absolutely drenched his fingers, soaked the sheets with your juices. He was sure if he looked in the mirror right now, his pupils would be in the shape of love hearts.

It took you a minute to come around, a little time to come back down to earth. You were met with Steve’s hands on your thighs, his fingers stroking over your skin softly. You felt your cheeks heat up as you glanced down at the sheets, a large damp patch between your legs.

Steve crawled up to you, lips kissing at your cheeks, soft pecks planted all over your face. “That,” kiss, “was so hot.” kiss, “I can’t believe you just did that.”

Steve found it hard to not let it go to his head, to give his ego a little boost, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t about to attempt it the next time you got between the sheets.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #kinktober2023 #k.fic

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