#sorry if this is confusing and also sorry for this in general
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In the mood for...
June 6th
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1. your favourite top!lwj fics? thanks! <3
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2. Hi!!! For itmf I was wondering if anyone has seen fics where someone or wwx points out that lwj hasn’t shown that he likes wwx. Like he’s genuinely confused because lwj is mean.
Alternatively if you guys have anything similar to One Summer Evening by Radistears. Preferably where wwx doesn’t forgive lwj easily. I honestly want lwj to be sad :)
Thank you!!! @monojadi
Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You're an Asshole) by piecrust (E, 22k, WangXian, Porn with Feelings, College/University) It's not a 1:1 match but might scratch the itch for #2. It features a lwj who needs to do serious groveling.
我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 84k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan)
the river and the sea by sasamelons (T, 7k, WangXian, Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Falling In Love, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Mutual Pining)
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3. Hii so I don't even know if books like this exist but if they do please share. What I'm looking for is books where it's wwx sending his child or children to the cloud recesses lectures. It can be Sizhui or some other child/ren that he has but yeah it's just him sending the child to the sect lectures. @thatperson0-0
The Murder of Crows by cerbykerby (M, 101k, WangXian, Slow Burn, Pining, Yiling Wei Sect AU, Everybody Lives but also not really, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, WWX adopts kids and talks to birds for 13 years, expanded demonic cultivation skills, Angst, Fluff, Dark, but also Light, Eventual Romance, Humor, Family, Hijinks & Shenanigans, ridiculously powerful WWX, almost-enemies to almost-friends to almost-lovers then back to almost-enemies then finally to lovers, because we all know it's gonna take lives being threatened to make these two confess)
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4. Hi i have a request for intm. Do you guys have any recs for a jealous LWJ…specifically fics in which Lwj starts dating, distancing himself from wwx and wwx gets jealous but then wwx gets attention from others and Lwj gets jealous and chases wwx? Thank you!!
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5. itmf your favorite fics featuring yiling siblings dynamics specially when they are being protective and ride or die; it's also lovely when they are just being soft and intimate with each other. wangxian is always a bonus <3 the only thing i detest is chengqing ship
💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27)
Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, wangxian, canon divergence, necromancy, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, Fix-it of sorts, yilingwei sect au)
💖 do not envy the roots that hold you down by eccentrick for rianitida (T, 12k, WangXian, Reincarnation, WQ is a Lan, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)
With Surgical Precision by metisket (T, 20k, WQ & WN, WQ & WWX, WangXian, Time Travel, Families of Choice, sibling bonding through murder)
Meet you at a different place by tawaen (M, 57k, WQ & WN, WN & MXY & WQ, WQ & WWX & WN, Eventual WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn't kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ)
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6. any fics were wen qing ends up marrying one of the nie brothers? especially if it's huaisang? i read a fic where he asks permission to wei wuxian to court her (in which he awnsers that it's her choice, and if she wants itnhe will support her)
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7. any fics were wei wuxian is a good politician? or a community or sect leader, but without the resources, contacts and support from the other sects, but with the civilians
🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)
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8. itmf fics that have some sort of court and legal drama, like in kizukatana's the truth will out (when caught in video); it can be either modern or canon setting, but in a wwx vs the sects kinda of deal with some real consequences for the antagonists besides just proving wei wuxian innocent or letting him live when he proves himself useful
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9. im interested in fics with in depth and interesting characterizations for wen ruohan, wen xu and wen zhuliu, with them interacting with wwx if possible <3 thank you
Loneliness Knows My Name by Jaywalker_Holmes, Treef (T, 208k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, mutual idiots) although it only features Wen Ruohan with Wei Wuxian.
Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 41k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ) WWX, WRH, WN and WQ return to the past and WRH decides to adopt WWX to repay him for taking care of the remnants.
I'm sorry, Good bye by NHaraki (M, 35k, WWX/WRH, WIP, Jiang Family Bashing, Time Travel Fix-It, YZY Bashing) It's in Indonesian, it focuses on WWX, WRH, WC, WX. Zhulio is there too, but I think he hasn't been focused on yet. CW: Attempted suicide though. I translated it via Google Chrome and that was passable
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10. itmf the most unique time travel fics.
preferable, but not necessary: wwx focusing on himself instead shrugging his trauma and grief off, does have wwx keep using his gui dao, cultivation sect critical, not jiang sect nor jiang vheng friendly
Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) Not sure about cultivation world critical, but has everything else you asked for, & definitely unique
we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club)
A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 74k, wangxian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Night Hunts, Fate & Destiny, Bad Parent JFM & YZY, Golden Core, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Pining WWX, WWX is Not Okay, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Pining LWJ, POV LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell Wangxian, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, WIP)
❤️ I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 57k, WangXian, WWX/Others, Mutual Pining, Marriage of Convenience, Arranged Marriage, No Sunshot Campaign, Fix-It, WQ Lives, Transmigration, Time Travel, Weddings, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy, Black Widow, Protective Siblings, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Sugar Baby, consort, Politics, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Crack Treated Seriously)
Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons)
The Darkness Before Dawn by PsycheStellata707 (M, 113k, wangxian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, Attempt at Humor, PTSD, Oblivious WWX, WWX-centric, Blind WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Everyone Lives AU, Except Those Who Deserves to Die, Oblivious Pining, Not Canon Compliant, WIP)
We'll Build A Dynasty (one the heavens can't shake) by One_eyed_God (T, 66k, WangXian, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, WWX & JYL, canon typical Jiang family dynamics, BAMF WWX, Canon JC Characteristics, POV Outsider, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, WWX is a Wen, Sect Leader WWX, Genius WWX, The Casual Intimacy of Hand-Holding, A Love Letter to WWX, Not JC Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It)
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11. itmf a/b/o modern au fluff fics like “insert coin now for extra fife” by TriviasFolly? thank you!!
Train Rides Change Everything by Seriana (E, 385k, WangXian, NHS/WX, JC/NMJ, JYL/LXC, WIP, A/B/O, Alpha/Omega, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Mpreg, Abusive Jiang Family, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Slut Shaming,bFluff and Angst, Unplanned Pregnancy, Feelings,bAbusive YZY, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Beta JC, Omega JYL, Modern, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Beta NHS, WC Being an Asshole, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Misunderstandings, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Scenting, Scent Marking, Scents & Smells, Slow Burn, Forced Marriage, First Time, Forced Bitching, Alpha WX, Minor Character Death, Murder, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, drug overdose, Sexual Tension, Omega JC) It's a long one with pretty much everything - romance, comedy, drama, murder, mystery, smut, conspiracies, hurt/comfort...
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12. An ITMF request, but a specific one: has anyone done a fusion/riff on the old movie "Three Men and a Baby"? (I know there are a lot of "accidental baby acquisition" stories but I specifically mean an AU of 3MaaB)
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13. Any fics where Lan Zhan or Wei Ying turn into like an animal and then the other takes care of them, not knowing who it is (they know eachother normally, they just dont realize they are the animal)? Bonus points if before the animal thing, Lan Zhan is still acting cold to Wei Ying
🔒💖 blue-ribbon bunny by cicer (G, 15k, wangxian, modern, shapeshifting, supernatural elements, fluff & humor)
in the arms of the angel by ScarlettStorm (E, 37k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fox WWX, animal rescuer LWJ, Minor pining, major shenanigans, Comedy, Smut, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Adhd WWX, the mortifying ordeal of getting your head stuck in a peanut butter jar, and getting subsequently rescued by your crush, there were in fact two beds, but LWJ knows what he's about, Blowjobs,bFrottages, witch rights, Scent Kink, Like a lot of scent kink, mildly telepathic sex, courtship via kittens)
🔒 and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen (T, 11k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Professors, Shapeshifter LWJ, Not Quite Necromancer WWX, Mutual Pining, WWX being an oblivious idiot, Fluff, Love Confessions, yunmeng trio, Family Feels,bget JC therapy 2020, Kissing, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)
love & longing, rabbit edition. by jaws_3 (G, 18k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Mutual Pining, Fluff, two dumbass teenagers in love, First Kiss, Getting Together, Rabbit LWJ, Spanish Translation Available)
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14. heyo this is for itmf! are there any fics which go like handler/ serial killer? basically anything w wangxian being badass and/or killing people
no wips pls! they give me anxiety TT @bunnycoffeeumcat
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15. Hello, for the next ITMF, I would like to ask for fics where when no one was there with wei ying, lan zhan was. Not burial mounds wen settlement days, but uk...
Wanna read about Wei Ying going through the darkest lowest time of his life and lan zhan is there with him.....
🔒🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 57k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU)
🧡 Company by WithBroomBefore (T, 29k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, POV LWJ, Fix-It, Pre-Canon, at least to start, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, But Not In The Usual Way, fear of character death, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, good teacher LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, brief discussion of past minor character suicide, Kitten, Not YZY Friendly)
golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not Rated, 95k, WangXian, WIP, Slow-ish burn, Sugar Daddy LWJ, which is an anachronistic term for this fic but it fits, Light Angst, Fluff, Developing Relationship, WWX gets all the appreciation he deserves, even if he's a bit confused about it at first, warprize au with a twist, in that everyone thinks WWX is a warprize, but LWJ has only platonic and honourable intentions, at first, Eventual Smut)
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16. hello, itmf fics where dragonji hoards wwx as his treasure (like "These Mortal Treasures" by ChilianXianzi). thx!
💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)
A Baby Dragon’s Guide To Seducing Your Huli Jing by sweetlolixo (M, 102k, wangxian, Fantasy, But still in the Cultivation World, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Younger LWJ, Older WWX, Fluff, Humor, Eventual mpreg, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Boy A-Yuan)
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17. I am in the mood for wangxian fics that are like...the opposite of pining while fucking. I want something where the romantic realization/confessions happen fast or early in the story, but for whatever reason, the physical side of their relationship is the slow burn part. Like, that could be because it's long-distance, or strict chaperoning during a betrothal, or anything really that keeps them from being able to indulge in the more physical part of their relationship. Just want to see these two burn for each other for a long time before the pay off. Thank you!
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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***
#wangxian#mdzs#wangxian fic recs#i'm in the mood for a fic#the untamed#wangxian fic search#wangxianficfinder#long post
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WIBTA for seeking out my ex to apologise to them?
For context, I had a long term (over 6 years) relationship with someone when I was younger (i was 21 and they were 20 at the time of our breakup, both nonbinary). They asked me out when we were both barely even teenagers, and in a way we grew up together. They were a great partner, and we were both very dedicated to each other. However I went through a lot of mental health struggles while we were together including a lot of suicidal ideation and some attempts, and eventually they asked to break up as they felt our relationship was becoming stressful for them and that I was relying on them too much/being too codependent.
At the time I was a little confused and upset, but I had always clearly made it a condition of our relationship that either of us could leave if we wanted to and had no obligation to stay. So in the end our breakup was pretty amiable, just sad, and we went our separate ways. In hindsight, our relationship was definitely unhealthy for both of us, and my mental health has ironically improved a huge amount since we broke up. So they were 100% right about it not being healthy, and I have nothing but respect for them.
In the years since, I have often felt guilty about how I treated them and wished I could make up for it/take back how I behaved. I never tried to hurt them on purpose but I would vent to them constantly without considering how they felt, and in general I think I took them for granted and would treat them more like a therapist than a partner, when they had their own issues too and I should have never made them feel responsible for mine like that. Neither of us were perfect, but I feel I definitely hold a lot of the blame for how things ended up. I don't think I had the emotional maturity at the time to realise how unhealthy our dynamic had become, whereas they did, and I think both of our lives have become better as a result of us breaking up.
It's been a couple of years since we broke up. They haven't changed any of their social media usernames or blocked me etc, so I could still reach out to them if I wanted to without having to block evade or anything weird like that. Part of me really wants to send them some kind of apology or something, so that they know they're a good person who did the right thing and that I'm sorry for my past behaviour.
However, part of me also recognises that I probably represent a dark period in their life, and that they likely just want to move on and forget about me. For this reason, I worry that apologising would be a selfish move on my part to just assuage my own feelings of guilt, but would only serve to stress/creep them out or hurt them further, which is the last thing I would want to do.
So, would I be the asshole for reaching out to them to apologise? Is it better to leave things alone, or would it be helpful for them/give them closure to hear an apology from me? It would be really helpful to hear people's perspectives on this, especially people who have been on the "other side" of a situation like this.
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Only The Good Die Young || E. Bridgerton
Summary: Fem!reader is staying with the Bridgertons for the social season and decides to confront Eloise about her feelings.
Word count: 0.8k
Warnings: None
<A/N> This is the first piece of fanfiction I have shared with anyone so it might be a bit rough, but I am open to constructive criticism and just your opinions in general! Also, English isn’t my first language, sorry about any spelling errors :P
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It was already past dark and most of the Bridgerton household had retired for the night. Only one person remained, curled up on a small sofa in the drawing room, her nose buried deep in a book. You could not help but stare. You were not sure you could ever get enough of it. Eloise’s hair, which had previously been pinned up, now hung loose around her face, and a burning candle cast a gentle light on her face.
You walked up to her, drawing her attention away from the yellowed parchment. “May I speak to you about something?” You said hesitantly, suddenly too nervous to meet her gaze.
She laughed “Of course you may. You can always come to me.” Her smile was as warm as always, and her eyes looked like deep blue waters in the flickering candlelight. You suddenly felt hot, as if you skin was burning, and you forced yourself to look away.
“If we are to remain friends-“
Eloise cut you off; “Of course we are, what makes you believe that we would not?” She tried to make it sound light hearted, but the words came out sharper than she had intended.
“If we are to remain friends” you started again “I can not keep secrets from you”
You looked down on your friend. Her face had settled in a worried expression. You suddenly regretted bringing up the topic but that was to no avail. You must finish what you started.
“I have these - feelings - that I would like to discuss. And I do not expect you to feel the same way…” at this point you had started pacing back and forth like a trapped animal.
“… but in these past few weeks I have come to know you as someone who is not quick to judge others, and I sincerely hope you will grant me that kindness…” Your steps slowed.
“For I hope I have not misjudged you, ms. Bridgerton.”
As you turned to look at her, your eyes meeting for the first time since you started you rambling, you knew you had to tell her. You could not keep a friendship build on lies.
Her eyes were wide and her lips were parted slightly as if she was wanting to say something. You stood in silence for a moment allowing her time to intervene. But she just tilted her head slightly, her eyebrows furrowing into an expression of worry and confusion.
You realised you had dragged this out for far too long. And you suspected your nervous fidgeting had not helped soothe your friend’s worries.
“Every time I look at you, Eloise, it’s as if my whole world disappears and I am left with nothing but blank space; I am left grasping to find my way back to reality because if I am alone with you my mind will wander to places it should not.” You could not afford to stop talking, for if you did you might not find you way back.
“I am willing to throw away whatever dignity I have if it means I get to hold you, and it scares me. Because I- I have never felt like this before.” That last sentence came out more as a whisper.
Eloise sat still as a statue, unchanged, and for a second you started to wonder if you had imagined the whole thing, but then she moved. She straightened her posture, looked down at the book laying on her lap and hesitated for a moment before fixing her gaze back onto you. You suddenly felt unable to breathe, as if a weight was put on you chest.
Eloise, without breaking eye contact, untangled her bare feet from her nightgown and slowly stood up, meeting you at eye level.
Her face was impossible to read as her expression seemed to change constantly.
“Eloise, I-“ You started to apologise, but all words left you as you felt her hand reach for yours. Her touch was warm, like a small spark that quickly grew into a burning fire. She held onto your hand, still with her eyes fixed on you. And without thinking you took a single step, almost closing the distance between your bodies.
She was close enough for you to feel her warm breaths against your skin and you could not pull your eyes from her face. You were desperate to memorise every freckle on her face, the way the flickering shadows from the candlelight softened her features and then there were her eyes. They were like a frozen lake; idle on the surface, but beneath it lies a deeper water, constantly moving with the current. They wandered across your face before settling on your lips.
“Tell me…“ She trailed of, her voice was low and husky. A shaky breath escaped your lips and she took that as an invitation to start slowly guiding your hand upward until your palm rested against the bare skin right below her collarbone. “…tell me if you want me to stop.”
And with that she fully closed the distance between you, and as your lips met hers you knew that you never wanted her to let go.
…………………………………………………….
#billy joel lyric#only the good die young#eloise bridgerton#bridgerton x reader#eloise bridgerton x you#eloise bridgerton x reader#first post#bridgerton fanfiction#eloise x reader#bridgerton#first person#fluff#claudia jessie#i love women#oneshot
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Sorry If i am bothering you but i want to know what role did the wilderness and its animals play in Mesopotamian mythology?
I like answering questions about Mesopotamia which indicate genuine interest, so no need to worry.
The most straightforward answer would be that the wilderness was generally perceived negatively (see ex. Wiggermann’s Scenes From the Shadow Side). The steppe in particular was usually portrayed as a place where one can get robbed at best and as the dwelling of ghosts, demons and the like - or just straight up the underworld - at worst. The mountains were frequently viewed as a site of confrontations between gods and their opponents but more neutral or even positive portrayals pop up in literature too. It’s also important to note that the marshlands were viewed pretty firmly positively.
As for wild animals: by far the best overview of Mesopotamian zoology is offered by Jeremiah Peterson in his dissertation A Study of Sumerian Faunal Conception with a Focus on the Terms Pertaining to the Order Testudines. Niek Veldhuis’ Religion, Literature, and Scholarship: the Sumerian Composition Nanše and the Birds, with a Catalogue of Sumerian Bird Names is really good too. There’s also quite recent Entomological Knowledge in Ancient Mesopotamia by Vazrick Nazari but you should bear in mind the author is an entomologist, not an assyriologist, so some sections are… less than reliable and sources as old as from the 19th century, and as questionable as Paropola’s phantasmagoric visions, are employed once the focus shifts away from identification of insects.
More under the cut.
Animals were generally seen as an essential part of the world outside human dwellings. Positive comparisons to certain taxa - wild and domestic cattle and lions - are very common in myths, royal hymns, and other genres. The bovine analogies are so popular in Mesopotamian texts that even scorpions could be metaphorically described as a sort of bull.
Demonic traits could be attributed to some animals viewed as dangerous: snakes, scorpions and dogs in particular. Additionally, omen texts indicate that ants were seen as messengers of Ereshkigal, presumably because their burrowing lifestyle made the Mesopotamians assume they could move all the way down to the underground land of the dead. Finding ants while digging foundations for a new building was therefore an ill omen; seeing flying red ants above a house, meanwhile, was a sign the owner is at the risk of being killed. Due to such risks, behavior of ants was sometimes observed by religious specialists, and some of the namburbi protective rituals specifically deal with them. Locusts were a bad omen too, but that’s a given. On the other hand, moths were viewed as bringers of good omens.
Some deities were associated with the wilderness, and broadly with animals dwelling there. Most notable examples are Ninkilim (addressed as “lord of the creatures”; his name was at times confused with ninka, “mongoose”, leading to the development of the idea that he was a deified mongoose himself), Sumugan (though he was associated with domestic animals too) and to a smaller degree Numushda, arguably. Ennugi, a minor courtier of Enlil, could be addressed as the creator of grubs, though a similar role is also attested for the mythical king Alulim; attestations are limited to incantations against field pests, though. For more context see here.
A special case is Nanshe. Two of the major literary texts focused on her focus on interactions between her and animals - Nanshe and the Birds and Home of the Fish. These belong to the subgenre called “enumeration literature”: while there is an actual plot, and deities are involved, the goal is mostly to fit as many terms from a single category into a single composition. As a result, Nanshe sounds… unusually passionate (fixated, even) on the core topics. I think it makes for really unique characterization but alas, as a major Mesopotamian deity who fits neither into questionable Bible takes nor into the madonna-whore complex she’s not getting anywhere in popculture.
Something that’s generally missing from the Mesopotamian repertoire are myths involving anyone turning into an animal. There are two notable exceptions, Enlil and Namzitarra, which involves Enlil turning into a raven to test a devotee, and Dumuzi’s Dream, in which Dumuzi asks Utu to turn him into a gazelle to escape underworld gendarmes pursuing him.
Major gods were not theriomorphic, and with some small exceptions (Tishpak, whose skin is in one case described as green and scaly; Ishtaran, who might have been depicted with the lower body of a snake) didn’t even have any animal body parts. However, deified animals are nonetheless also attested - multiple examples of divine bulls are the main example, obviously (for instance Indagara, Buru, the borrowed Hurrian Sheri and Hurri, possibly Magiru, “obedient”), as expected divine lions also pop up every now then, but that’s not all.
There’s a number of deified birds, though most of them occur only in Early Dynastic sources which do not provide any real insights about their character. One example that comes to mind is the deity Kiki or Ninkiki (“lady of the kiki); we have no clue what sort of bird the kiki was though, other than that it was loud enough to be compared to the storm. Nirah is a deified snake.
Deified invertebrates are much less common but it’s still worth bringing up Eḫ, a member of the court of Nungal whose name is pretty semantically similar to English “bug” (though it might also specifically refer to a louse. There is also an either divine or demonic centipede, Ḫallulaya. Among the numerous ancestors of Enlil there is a pair named Engiriš and Ningiriš, “lord butterfly” and “lady butterfly”. It is often claimed that Uttu, the goddess of weaving, was portrayed as a deified spider, but the evidence is at best limited, see here and here for details. Peterson doesn’t list her among deified animals.
A mythical creature listed in enumerations of Ninurta’s enemies, kulianna (“friend of heaven”), might be a supernatural dragonfly, though it’s also possible it was imagined as something else altogether and the link to dragonflies is just the result of homophony with Akkadian kulīlu, “dragonfly”. For more detail see here, p. 89.
In art there’s a fair number of depictions of animals behaving like humans, but the full context of such works remains poorly known. There’s a brief overview here from p. 237 onward.
Especially in Assyria wild animals were customarily hunted by kings, and trophies acquired this way served as a way of showing off the extent of their dominion. It has been suggested that they could eventually acquire apotropaic qualities, as evidenced by the preparation of protective statues of the apsasîtu, the burḫiš and the nāḫiru, sometimes interpreted as water buffalo, yak and whale. However, the meaning of these three terms remains uncertain, for some recent considerations see here.
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Hello! I wanted to make a character who wears an eyepatch, but I don't know how to make it, exactly? And I thought you may know
I've read that the most common reasons to wear eyepatches are generally temporary, wich it's not what I wanted. I thought maybe he was really sensitive to light in one eye and chose to wear an eyepatch rather than sunglasses, but I've also read that may deteriorate the vision in that eye? (Maybe he's blind in that eye too and he's not worried about it?)
If not that I've read that they are used to hide a missing eye, a lazy eye or something else, but that it was more used in the past bc medicine wasn't as good, and nowadays most of that can be changed with surgery or a prosthetic eye, wich... I don't know why he wouldn't have?
Also, all of this was found via google, and I couldn't find any first-person experience (?) Like - I've found a lot of youtube videos, reddit forums and tumblr users from blind people to ask and learn about my other blind characters, but I couldn't for this? Maybe they're not really used anymore??
I'm not sure if you know but I had to ask - Maybe you know of somewhere I could read more about it?
(Also sorry fot any mistakes or confusing wording, english isn't my first language)
Hi! Your ask is very clear, don't worry :-)
Eyepatches can be used long-term to treat amblyopia, help someone who has unilateral photophobia, or be used by those who have double vision to help with visual tasks (I do that with my "DIY eyepatch", aka closing the one eye I have actual eyelid control over). Photophobia could be a result of a bunch of things, my bilateral one happened as a side effect of nerve surgery. There's too many ocular conditions to list, probably. Permanent double vision is usually caused by brain or nerve damage, like in my case, or an autoimmune condition like myasthenia gravis.
With that said, eyepatches among all of the above are still a rarity. For all the time I spent in eye clinics since I was a baby, I have never personally met anyone who would wear one permanently into adulthood - many wore it only as children, or only around the time of surgery (like I also did), etc. Modern medicine simply has better options.
They are rarely used for missing eyes as well, other solutions (prosthetic eyes, conformers) are more common. An empty eye socket isn't ideal a lot of the time.
It's rather hard to find first-person resources for eyepatch usage because it's simply rare. I looked through some of our resources and while we had multiple for prosthetic eyes or similar, nothing for eyepatches, so I can't help with that, unfortunately.
Important thing about eyepatches is that they're not used 24/7! People take them off sometimes. Depending on why he uses it, you might be interested in this (if he's blind) or this (if he has a facial difference) post. Also think of the reason he wears it outside of just the eyepatch; does he need medication, eye drops, does he get headaches, etc.? Remember that it shouldn't just be an aesthetic and it should cause other symptoms too.
I hope this helps!
mod Sasza
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BREAK IT OFF.
gojo is finally out of the box : gojo satoru x gn!reader
genres / warnings : angst, hurt/no comfort, cursing, spoiler warnings⚠️!, reader is mad at gojo, mentions of character death, gojo is in love w reader but nothing is established, arguing, Gojo + Yuji survive bc I refuse to make them die, reader is also a teacher at JJT
notes : I was talking with a cai bot earlier so kinda inspired by it (sxgarcore on cai)! I was also feeling angsty 🤗 Also I've never exactly read the manga, so my knowledge is very general so please lmk if I've made any mistakes!
19 days that Gojo Satoru had been sealed in the prison realm by Kenjaku. Or, in your eyes, 19 days that Gojo Satoru left the world to suffer at the hands of Sukuna.
You hated him. You hated him for letting himself get sealed up, blaming him for all of the casualties and the people you’d lost. Students, for God’s sake, to be put up against the king of curses.
Gojo is the strongest, and there is no doubt about that. Your anger sometimes felt like you were doubting the abilities of you and your fellow sorcerers, because there was always a possibility that things would’ve ended up the same way with him there.
Still, you couldn’t help but be angry with him. Those 19 days, you along with everyone worried about his wellbeing and safety. All that time spent trying to get him back whilst fighting a demon from hell that possessed the body of Yuji Itadori.
You knew that Gojo had been unsealed, and you were trying your utmost best to avoid him. You knew that you’d lose your shit on him if you came face to face with him, so you decided to distance yourself for the sake of everyone’s happiness during recovery.
What you didn't know, though, was that those days felt like years to him, like an eternity on the brink of madness. It drove him insane knowing that he couldn’t be there to help, and the longer he was there the more he began to miss you. As soon as he was back, the first thing he wanted to do was see you again.
You were at JJT, not particularly doing anything other than roaming the hallways trying to clear your mind. The hallways were unusually empty, any typical day you’d probably be teaching your students—but that wasn’t the case now.
You rounded the corner, eyes focused on the ground when all of a sudden you walk straight into someone. You were about to say sorry before you actually realized who it was. Surprise! It’s Gojo.
When you first made eye contact with him, it practically made your blood run cold. But surprisingly, you didn’t feel the same amount of rage as you thought you would. Rather, you felt shocked, completely frozen.
"Long time no see, yeah?" He spoke after a good long minute of silence, putting on the same stupid smile that told you that he wasn’t actually happy. The same smile that said that nothing had happened, the smile that said that his mind was elsewhere.
"Gojo," You frowned, eyebrows furrowing and expression falling. You felt your shoulders slump slightly, almost as if you were disappointed at his presence.
You watched him tense, confusion creeping onto his features as the gears began to turn in his head.
He expected you to run into his arms, hug him, act like you missed him, anything but the way you were reacting right now.
"The one and only. Did ya miss me?" he laughed nervously, his smile faltering slightly. Why were you acting so…mad? Was it something he said?
"I'd ask Nanami that question," you scoffed at him, "He's dead."
Gojo knew that already, but it didn't hurt any less coming from you. He paused, the facade he wanted to put on so badly slowly slipping from his grasp.
"...I know," he muttered, a blank face replacing his previous, more confident one.
That was all he could say. He didn't even know what to say, especially with the way you surprised him with being so angry.
He knew that many important people were lost, but now he couldn't help but begin to think that maybe it was his fault that they died. That it was his fault because he couldn't be there to save them. The way you responded filled him up with pure guilt, and he didn’t like it.
You rolled your eyes, his bluntness pissing you off. You sighed, turning on your heel to go the other direction. You planned on going to the hospital in a bit to visit the injured others, along with Shoko who was there right now.
You didn't want to be anywhere near Gojo. Not now, not when you saw him being the reason that people were injured in the first place.
Gojo panicked a little as he saw you start to walk away, reaching out and grabbing your wrist to spin you back around. He couldn't just let you leave. He'd spent 19 days trying to escape, trying to see you again, and he was not going to let that chance go. "Where the hell are you going?"
"The hospital, where everyone is," You muttered, acting like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
You weren't wrong, though; Nobara and Megumi were some of the few who were there now. You managed to get out with a couple of scars and bruises, but the others weren't so fortunate.
Gojo sighed softly, letting go of your wrist. He felt like he should've expected that answer, to be honest. Knowing that the people he cared about were injured, knowing that you probably were too, it all just didn't sit right with him.
"Yeah...of course," He put his hands back into his pockets, looking at the ground for a moment before looking back up at you. "Are you alright?"
"Why do you care?" You quipped, "It's not like you cared if we'd be alright when you got locked up."
Ouch. That one stung a little. But maybe he deserved it.
You knew you were being meaner than you should, and a part of you knew that it wasn't entirely Gojo's fault for getting sealed, but it felt right.
To you, Gojo was reckless; he was reckless enough to get sealed in the prison realm, to let everyone else handle the king of curses. Even so, he let Kenjaku and Sukuna have that kind of power, where they wouldn’t have to worry about the him because he was locked away.
You both stood in silence for a moment, albeit very uncomfortable silence. It felt suffocating to him, and it made him want to just hug you and apologize a million times over. But he just couldn’t.
“I just—” you paused, sighing as you thought about what to say, “I just wish you were there.”
The hint of pain in your voice almost killed Gojo. He should’ve been there. He knew that much.
Gojo kept quiet, completely unsure how to respond to you. You, the person here probably cared about the most, hated him the most right now. He wanted to fix it all, to time travel back so that he wouldn’t be sealed up. He wanted to make it better but he didn’t even know where to start.
With his lack of response, you took that as your queue to leave. You turned once again, this time leaving Gojo where he stood.
You didn’t know if you could forgive him, at least not soon. You’d let it be, but who knows how long it’ll take you to come back around? It could be weeks, months, years—all options left a sour taste in Gojo’s mouth.
#x reader#gn!reader#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk gojo#jjk spoilers#jjk x you#gojo satoru#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen#angst#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo angst#hurt no comfort#hydriko#gege hate club#gege when i catch you gege#x gn reader#i am so tired#im posting this at 1:45 am someone please help
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In My Blood | Part Four
In My Blood Masterlist
Curtis "Curt" Biddick x SOE!Female Reader
You and Curt find a lot more than shelter for the night in Langon, but as your affection for one another only grows, you cannot help but start thinking about the fact that you are also nearing the end of your journey.
Warnings: MAJOR canon divergence, Language, Weapons, Spy Craft, Fear, Alcohol Consumption, Smoking, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Unprotected Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Multiple Orgasms] - 18+ ONLY.
Author’s Note: This story contains revisionist history, read at your own risk. Reader is half-Belgian, half-English and has been given an extensive backstory and family tree. While they have been given the codename of "Marie," no physical descriptions or Y/N are used.
Italics used for non-English words and to indicate dialogue spoken in a language other than English.
This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.
Word Count: 5974
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The rumble of a car engine brought your feet skidding to a halt, the scattering of gravel atop cobblestones carrying you further into the open than you intended. Curt’s hand wrapped around your wrist, hauling you back between the buildings for cover. You had been so very close, just two streets away from ‘Victoire’s’ home in Langon after creeping your way into town through ditches and alleyways. The sharp beam of a flashlight cut through the dark, ruining your night sight, making you blink furiously as you and Curt retreated further from its threatening glare.
As he pulled you around the back of the squat, brick building, pressing against you protectively, your breath hitched in your throat at the mortifyingly intense reaction his closeness evoked from your body. A shiver cascaded from the crown of your head down to the tips of your toes, leaving stiffened nipples and clenched thighs in its wake. Welding your lips shut, you forced slow, measured inhales and exhales through your nose, waiting for the sound of the car and its probing searchlight to recede, only risking a careful glance back toward the road after a good two minutes of silence. Even then, after extracting yourself from Curt’s distracting albeit shielding stance, you insisted on backtracking slightly before attempting a different approach to Victoire’s house.
Mercifully, you managed to reach her back garden with its now-empty planting beds and small shed without further encounters, knocking at the door loud enough to be heard inside but not arouse the suspicion of her neighbours. The curtain covering the small square of glass in the wooden door fluttered slightly in the darkness before the faint scraping of a chain lock being released was followed by the ‘click’ of a deadbolt. The door swung inward slowly as Victoire, a young woman not much older than yourself, appeared, swaddled in her house coat with something clenched in her hand.
As she began to step outside, forcing the pair of you to shuffle backwards out of the way, you and Curt shared a look of confusion before quickly following her in the direction of the shed. Gingerly manipulating the padlock, she carefully opened the latch and then the door for you.
“I am sorry, but the house is fully occupied.” She whispered and you nodded, clasping her hand in gratitude for any shelter she could offer, no matter how humble, before slipping into the drafty building full of empty pots and smelling of damp soil.
Taking a moment to get your bearings, you chose to slide to your suitcase beneath the potting bench before carefully moving several larger pots and gardening implements to open up enough floor space for yourself and Curt to rest for the night. The sound of the door sliding home, followed by the ‘snick’ of the padlock, made you glance back over your shoulder. The sight of Curt pulling the generous wool coat from his suitcase, the garment that you had acquired at great cost back in Beverst, barely discernable in the dark shed, made your lips curl fondly. At least he would be warm tonight. Settling onto the rough wooden floor, propped up against the wall, you swallowed your hiss at the sharp cold against your bare legs.
“Here.” Curt whispered once his suitcase was stowed next to yours, shuffling down to sit beside you, hip and shoulder pressed against yours in the limited space as he draped the coat across the pair of you.
Your eyes snapped from the dark navy fabric up to his face, inhaling sharply to find him so close, nose almost brushing his. “Curt…” You murmured softly in gratitude.
A grin of satisfaction unfurled on his features as he huddled closer to ensure you were both properly protected from the elements. There was a palpable tension between you, an electricity shimmering across your skin that made your lips part in an attempt to take in more oxygen and quell the swimming sensation in your head. Curt’s expression grew more serious, his eyes tracing along your face towards your lips, a motion like a caress that gnawed insistently at your self-control until you felt yourself lunging forward to crash your mouth against his.
A noise of surprise escaped him, only to be muffled by your lips before you felt the warmth of the coat fall away from your shoulders as his hand fought its way free to cup your cheek and pull you closer. Your lips parted with a sigh of relief, a motion which Curt quickly took advantage of, tongue swiping teasingly at the gap but never properly sliding into your mouth. Not until an indignant whimper sounded in the back of your throat, only to be rewarded by a thorough kiss that had you clinging to his shoulders until you needed to pull back to gasp for air.
You could feel the curl of his smile as he trailed his lips across your cheek to whisper, “can’t kiss a girl and not even know her first name.”
The feeling of his damp lips brushing against the curve of your ear made you shudder yet again, affection and want thrumming through your body with each beat of your racing heart. Shifting to press your lips against his ear in turn, you barely breathed your true name, a lance of fear as well as the thrill of being known rocketing through your gut. He repeated it with a soft sigh, sending your teeth sinking into your lower lip before you kissed him once more, a fierceness at hearing it tainting your actions as your hands delved into his hair, ruining the hold of the pomade he had put into it hours ago.
The heat of Curt’s palm slid down your neck across the front of your sweater to caress the swell of your breast and you hummed, arching eagerly into his touch while simultaneously growing frustrated with the awkward positions your found yourselves in. Shifting carefully, you swung your leg over his to straddle his thighs, the coat falling behind you, completely forgotten. His hands squeezed your hips warmly as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips only to pull back and begin painting kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Mapping the raised scars you could feel but not see in the darkness. After an initial huff, Curt hummed contentedly, tilting his head to offer more flesh to you as he resumed kneading your tender flesh with both hands.
Feeling your hips buck in response as you pressed a moan against his neck, he dropped one hand to your lower back, pulling your hips flush with his. The press of his hardening cock against the apex of your thighs sent your lips colliding with his once more, rocking experimentally, to your mutual pleasure – a melding of moans against your tongue. You were addicted to the way he made you feel, a woman fully alive, under your own name. Not ‘Marie,’ the fragile shell who internalized every secret and nurtured every wound.
And even though the friction of his length through his trousers against the thin barrier of your underwear made your eyes clench shut and breath shorten to harsh pants, still you wanted more. Hands sliding between your bodies, you began to work at the fly of his trousers, feeling his tongue flick at his lips, desperately trying to wet them.
“You sure?” He rasped and you eyed his silhouette a moment, swallowing roughly.
The reality of your situation was bleak, and while this was most definitely outside the bounds of propriety, the truth of it was you were either going to die or, by some miracle, make it back to England. To a world of strangers who did not, and never could, understand the truth of what you had faced. What you had endured. None of them would ever be like the man before you, would have shared the same dangers and trials. So the answer was rather easy.
“Yes.” You breathed emphatically and made quick work of freeing his cock, sealing your mouth against his neck as his blunt fingers pulled aside your underwear to slide through your slick folds.
Working together, you shifted up onto your knees to guide him into your warmth, your shaky breaths pouring into his gaping mouth as he stared up at you, brows furrowed in pleasure. Hips settling snuggly atop his, your teeth clacked against his in your desperation to smother your moan at the feeling of him seated fully inside you. Curt’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you rocked forward before you tensed your thighs to begin working your hips up and down his length, his head falling back against the tongue and groove wall, jaw slack.
Heavy sighs of your name tumbled from his lips, tone reverent and dream-like as he watched you with half-lidded eyes. Despite the fact that you remained fully clothed, to be called thus left you feeling practically laid bare before him. A pang of longing struck you, wishing you could see him better, see the flush on his cheeks. For now, the warmth of his skin beneath your hands would suffice. Was proving more than sufficient in combination with his prayerful use of your name and the fact that he was lasting far longer than the last man you had been intimate with – some pretty popinjay outside Sarah Spencer-Churchill’s debut ball who had cum within a few moments of being allowed up your gown. All told, it was a heady mixture that was making your thighs shake with the effort to drive the pair of you towards climax.
The sudden shift brought on by the bend of his knees made you gasp, planting your hands on his shoulders to avoid smacking your chin against his. You had barely stabilized yourself before his fingers curled into your hips and he began to thrust up into you insistently. A cry of sheer delight flew from lips, unfortunately only half smothered by his solicitous mouth, but thankfully it did not interrupt his exquisite rhythm, nor seem to arouse suspicion outside. Toes curling in your shoes as your nails dug into the leather of his jacket, it was not long before you were hurtling over the precipice into orgasm, clenching around him ruthlessly.
The feel of his sticky, hot release drew aftershocks of pleasure from you as you slumped against his chest, utterly spent, entire body rising and falling as his chest heaved beneath you. Curt tender kisses feathering along your temple and cheek pulled soft giggles from you, making you lift your head to press your lips against his warmly. As the flush of the afterglow slowly ebbed from your skin, the wind whistling through the gaps in the shed’s construction began to steal the warmth from your body, making you shiver yet again.
“Hold on, gorgeous, let’s get you warm.” Curt murmured softly, breathing returning to normal as he helped you rearrange your underwear before re-assembling his trousers.
Tucking you close into his chest, he gathered the coat once more, bundling the pair of you beneath it, making you hum in comfort as you burrowed your head beneath his chin. Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he murmured, “sleep” and you found no desire to argue with him.
The next sensation you were aware of was the sound of the padlock rattling outside, a sure sign that Victoire had returned to summon the pair of you – hopefully for breakfast. Shafts of weak light filtered through the numerous gaps in the shed walls as you forced yourself awake, reluctantly but quickly emerging from the warm cocoon of Curt’s arms. Rain was gently but steadily pattering against the roof as you managed to settle onto the floor at his side, the pair of you presenting a quite proper sight to your host as she popped her head in.
“Come inside, there is food, and you can clean up.”
“Thank you, Victoire.” You smiled sleepily as Curt stirred beside you.
Collecting your luggage, you both followed her through the icy drizzle into her warm home that seemed devoid of all guests, only young son playing with some toys on a blanket in the kitchen where she had set out a breakfast hash of canned corned beef and potatoes.
“You spoil us.” You murmured as Curt dug in with a bright if clumsily pronounced ‘Merci,’ making you struggle against the urge to smile fondly.
“You received the worst accommodations last night, therefore you get the best breakfast.” She insisted, pouring two cups of hot coffee substitute which was bitter but warm. “Things seem busy as of late, am I right, Marie?”
Nodding as you swallowed your mouthful, you pointed down the hall as you saw Curt’s plate was empty. “Bathroom is first door on the right, you go ahead.” Turning back to Victoire you sighed heavily. “Incredibly busy, and more dangerous.” You replied in French.
She hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip from her own stained and chipped mug. “I hope you are being safe out there.”
“As much as I can.”
Her son let out a squeal of delight as he crashed one wooden car into another, drawing an exhausted smile from his mother. “At least he will never know.” She murmured, standing to ruffle his hair warmly before cleaning up from breakfast.
Curt returned from the bathroom, clothes changed and freshly shaved.
“I’ll be right back.” You murmured and took your suitcase to do the same, stripping bare to take a bath in the sink with a borrowed washcloth.
Changing the bandage on your nearly healed arm with supplies from your luggage, you then slid into a fresh outfit. Retrieving a silk scarf from the depths of your suitcase, you secured it atop your hair, both as protection against the persistent rain, and to make yourself less recognizable to anyone who might be looking for you. You certainly hoped they were still searching in Bordeaux but were not about to be unnecessarily cavalier about it. You also retrieved the last of your cash reserves from the envelope secured in the zippered portion of your suitcase, transferring it to your handbag. Things really must be coming to an end if this was all you had left.
Stepping back into the kitchen, you felt Curt’s eyes on you, assessing for a moment before he stood from where he had been entertaining Victoire’s son on his blanket. Watching curiously as he shrugged from his leather jacket, that fond smile from earlier stole its way across your face as he pulled on the wool coat – the length of it stretching to his knees and the cuffs covering his hands – before he flipped up the collar, obscuring a great deal of his face but legitimately appearing to be simply warding off the elements. In countless ways he had proven himself to be the easiest of your charges, practically a natural at sneaking his way across occupied Europe, despite your initial sense of his inability to shut his mouth. You were going to miss him.
Doing your best to ignore the way that made your stomach plummet, breath snagging on your emotions as you tried to inhale, you turned to Victoire to wish her farewell.
“Thank you again for the shelter and incredible meal.”
“My pleasure, as always, Marie. Best of luck to you both.”
“You and yours, also.” You nodded firmly, collecting your things.
Curt, as soon as he finished rolling up the overly long sleeves of his coat, did the same, nodding to your host before the pair of you headed out into the rain, shoulders hunching as a natural barrier against the wind. It was a fifteen-minute walk from Victoire’s house to Langon Station – a long building of pink brick and white stone, much more understated than the rest of the stations you had visited thus far on your journey. Damp and tired, you were unspeakably grateful that the Nazi officer on duty barely glanced at your papers, waving you onto the ticket counter where you were relieved to learn that trains were indeed running to Toulouse today.
Once again, the train in service was small, with no private compartments available. Wedging yourself side-by-side with Curt, you pinched the inside of your cheek between your teeth, doing your utmost to ignore the way it felt utterly different to have his body pressed against yours. Rather than sleeping, a glance over at him revealed that Curt was leaning against the window to watch you quietly, a small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. Bowing your head under that love-struck gaze, you swallowed roughly, trying your very best to remain focused on the final leg of your journey for which you were responsible. With numerous stoppages, some on sidings to allow freight trains to pass, some for absolutely no clear purpose, as well as one transfer at Agen, it took nearly the entire day to reach Toulouse.
While it gave the pair of you the opportunity to thoroughly dry out, it also left each of you feeling remarkably hungry by the time you reached ‘Françoise’s’ apartment. As the door swung open, the sight of her cloud of snow-white hair, barely contained in a semblance of a style despite numerous pins, with her shadowy black cat Charbon weaving himself around her ankles, was nearly enough to make you collapse with exhaustion and relief.
“Ah, come in.” She whispered and ushered you both inside quickly, casting a glance around the hallway behind you before firmly shutting the world out with an extensive number of deadbolts and chains. “Marie, welcome. Who is your friend?”
“Curt.” He smiled, setting down his suitcase to offer his hand, which Françoise eyed a moment before shaking with an unusually strong grip for a woman in her sixties.
“You both look ready to fall asleep, go rest and I will find something to feed you.”
“Bless you, Françoise.” You murmured, leading Curt down a short hallway to point out the washroom and showing him into his room. “You can sleep here, keep the curtains closed and your voice down.”
He nodded, eyeing you a moment, but a persistent meow interrupted anything he may have been about to say.
“Yes, Charbon, you can come have a nap with me.” You smirked. “Rest well, Curt.” You turned, the cat trotting happily in your wake into the room next door, hopping up onto the bed expectantly.
You took a few moments to remove most of your clothing before slipping beneath the blankets and fell deeply asleep to the sound of an enthusiastically purring cat. Waking to a stew of beans accompanied with thick slices of a coarse bread, you and Curt devoured all that Françoise could set before you, chatting briefly over cups of tea before you all turned in for the first solid of night of sleep you had enjoyed in weeks. Charbon, of course, spent the night with Françoise who slept with her door open to give him free run of the apartment. Enjoying showers and a filling breakfast the next day, you turned to Françoise to begin planning the last and most physically demanding portion of your journey.
“I will make contact with the Ponzáns, would you be able to acquire two rucksacks for us? We will have suitcases to leave in return.”
Her black eyebrows, hand drawn with a makeup pencil, jumped nearly to her hairline. “Two.” She echoed flatly before retrieving a cigarette from a tarnished silver case. The scent of bitter German tobacco filled the air, a vivid reminder of why you had given up the habit. “Marie, you are leaving.”
It was not a question, but you nodded in answer all the same.
Her mouth twisted in displeasure, the scarlet of her lipstick interrupted by the cracks of age. MI9 liked to call her eccentric, you simply viewed her as a woman who had lived a full life and refused to let the expectations of age dictate how she ought to continue to live now.
“A great loss.” She sighed with an exhale of smoke through her nostrils, tapping the ash into a crystal ashtray, one of many that lived on every surface in her apartment. “Well, it will do no good dwelling, you and I must get to work. I am sure they will ask for a great price to ferry you, however.”
You grunted in agreement, all too certain that Pablo’s eyes would light up in an hour or so. “Hopefully it is not be the crown jewels.” You sighed and a rattling laugh burst forth from her throat.
“Might very well be, Marie.” Her hand with its dry, paper-thin skin patted at the back of yours before she leveraged herself to her feet. “Now, Curt, have you ever washed a dish?”
“No, ma’am, but I am not above trying.” He replied, wrenching his eyes from you and following the woman to the kitchen.
Collecting the dishes from the table, you set them on the counter in the small kitchen before heading to your room to collect your handbag, ensuring your knife and gun were both readily available within. Pausing in the doorway, you took a moment to enjoy the sight of Curt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hands in the dishpan as Françoise provided stern guidance at his side.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.” You said gently, nodding as both of them turned back to you quickly.
“See you soon, dear.” Françoise nodded.
“Be safe.” Curt said firmly, eyeing you intensely, surely in a bid to communicate his desire for you to return without injury, covered in blood, or having shot someone else.
“That is the plan.” You replied reassuringly before slipping back out, pleased to find the rain had ceased.
The walk to the bookstore was remarkably pleasant, though the crisp autumn air drove your hands into your pockets to keep warm. Stepping inside, the bell chiming overhead, you nodded with a friendly smile to the man behind the counter. You did not know his name, nor he yours, but he was a friend of the Resistance. A conduit for the Françoise Line to reach the Ponzán Group to guide downed airmen across the Pyrenees. And now, hopefully not at too great a price, yourself as well.
Perusing the shelves for a time, reading the synopses of a few books before putting them back, you walked up to the counter once you were certain the store was empty.
“Good afternoon. I was wondering if you had any books on Saint Christopher?”
As you spoke, the rack of comic books on display at his elbow caught your eye, the illustration of a boxer prominent on the cover. Momentarily distracted by the thought that you should purchase a copy for Curt, you huffed inwardly at your schoolgirlish distraction, looking to the shopkeeper as he replied.
“That’s a good question. I might have a few options in the back, one moment.” He slipped out from behind the counter to lock the front door before leading you into the back room and down a set of stairs narrowed by stacks of boxes, knocking on the door before it swung inward to reveal Pablo himself.
“Well, well, if it isn’t you.” He nodded dismissively to the shopkeeper before turning back inside the rather well-appointed secret office. Shutting the door behind you, you settled into the seat opposite him as he tilted his head. “What can we do for you and your English friends, Marie?”
“Passage for two across the mountains with proper winter clothing for one and accessories for the other.” You replied cooly, showing that you were unaffected by his attempts to intimidate you.
“Boots too? What sizes are we talking about?” He tilted his head probingly.
Exhaling slowly. “I am not interested in playing games, Pablo. I need the winter clothing. The airman needs just the accessories. I believe he wears an American size 8 or 9 for his boots?”
His eyes glittered hard in the light of the candle on his desk, gaze narrowing greedily. “Run into a spot of trouble with the Vichy, Marie?” He taunted, putting on an infuriatingly poor impression of your upper-class English accent, the one you spoke with thanks to your mother’s tutelage. “Or was it the big bad Gestapo?” He sneered a little before grabbing a piece of paper, writing out a terrific sum of francs and a list of weapons before referring briefly to a leather notebook in his breast pocket before adding a set of coordinates. “Payment and drop location. We will confirm once we have been in receipt.”
“Right.” You replied tersely, tucking the slip of paper into your bag before standing. “Give Francisco my regards.”
“Oh I will, Marie.” Pablo grinned darkly, tenting his fingers as he watched you exit his office.
Climbing back up the stairs, you paused at the counter to purchase a newspaper, grabbing the comic book just as shopkeeper was about to give you the total and passed over the requisite number of francs for both. Taking a moment in the corner of the shop to slide the rather offensive list of demands into the paper, you tucked your purchases under your arm and headed next to a café where you would be able to pass along the Ponzán group’s order to a runner for the wireless operator in the area. Glancing at your watch, you confirmed it was just before noon, and tried not to smile as the young girl was seated in the back corner at her usual table.
Snagging a seat by the window, you ordered a black coffee and perused the comic book, pleased to see that it was most definitely the story of a boxer. Coffee finished, you deposited your payment on the table and made your way towards the bathroom, casually setting the folded newspaper on the girl’s table as you passed by before stepping into the single-stalled washroom. After flushing, you took a moment to tidy your appearance, taking a few breaths before opening the door and retrieving the empty and turned newspaper from the corner of her table, no other patron or staff person even glancing in your direction.
It was a tense walk back to the safety of Françoise’s apartment, being sure to take a circuitous route and triple-check that you were not being followed, before making your way up the stairs just as the woman herself was returning with the two requested packs. Drawing her keys from the pocket of her worn fur coat, she unlocked the numerous deadbolts before ushering you inside. As she locked up behind you, you bent to scoop up Charbon, going to Curt’s door to knock quietly.
“We are back.” You spoke softly through the wood.
It slowly creaked open, and he smiled in relief as he laid eyes on you. “Success?” He murmured and you nodded.
“It is arranged, we shall see if the price is a pill that can be swallowed.”
“For your luggage.” Françoise’s arm thrusted a rucksack between the pair of you, startling Curt before he took it with a nod of thanks. “You two probably need to do laundry now?”
“As always, you are correctly.” You set the cat down, ignoring his meow of protest as you took the other bag. “I can do that. This,” You held the comic out to Curt, “is for you.”
He took it with his other hand and smirked slowly. “Boxing…you remembered.”
Françoise shook her head and trundled down the hall to the bathroom to retrieve the laundry supplies, giving you no chance to discuss your gift to him as you gathered dirty clothes from both suitcases and worked with your host to scrub and rinse and wring for the rest for the day. Once the apartment was sufficiently strung with clothing hung to dry, intimates mercifully relegated to your respective rooms, there was dinner, and then a hushed game of poker at which Françoise mopped the floor with both of you.
The pattern continued thus for several days, Françoise keeping the pair of you busy with chores as you awaited news of a successful drop. Every evening, she would outdrink and outwit the both of you at cards, making you grateful you were only gambling with tokens and not real money. All communication with Curt was forced to be bland, sanitized, safe to be overheard by the English-speaking and ever-present woman whose apartment you were sheltering in. Only brief moments of intense eye contact across the round dining table, covered with its mended lace tablecloth, or a brushing of hands as you worked together in the kitchen to wash and dry the dishes, revealed there was something much more to the pair of you than simple traveling companions.
Retiring to your room after your third night of defeat at cards, you were feeling restless, thoroughly empathizing with animals held in cages against their will. Normally you would be out, walking the streets of Toulouse, scavenging, acquiring, making connections. But now, as a wanted and known person yourself, you too had to stay indoors as much as possible. You had always tried to be patient with your charges but had never truly understood how it felt to be in their shoes until now.
Turning your unsettled energy to more useful pursuits, you set the rucksack on your bed and carefully began to transfer the remnants of your suitcase into it, pausing as you came across the small tin of gun oil, cloth, and bore brush bundled inside a set of thick woollen socks. Setting it on the desk to your right, you finished your task, setting the empty suitcase by the door to turn over to Françoise before changing into your nightgown, a light summer affair without sleeves. Sliding a cardigan overtop of your bare and finally bandage-free, you retrieved your pistol and knife from your handbag settling in to clean your weapons.
Ejecting the clip from the pistol, you stripped it down before working with the bore brush to clean the barrel before applying a few drops to lubricant it. Turning, then, to the action, you ensured it too was cleaned and lubricated before you reassembled the weapon before moving onto your knife. You were nearly finished polishing the blade with a few drops of gun oil when your door suddenly swung open, making you jump to your feet.
“Easy, gorgeous.” Curt whispered, quietly closing the door behind him before turning the handle to let the latch slide home. “Just me.” He stood there clad only in his boxer shorts and an undershirt.
Releasing your knife onto the desk with an exhale of relief, you tilted your head in silent question, watching as he quickly closed the distance between you.
“Can’t stop thinking about you.” He sighed, sliding his arm around your back to pull you close as he kissed you deeply.
Your hands quickly rose to cup his cheeks warmly as you returned his kiss, hoping you convey you were suffering the same, despite your inability to speak at the moment. Guiding you backwards one step at a time, you were saved an uncomfortable collision with the wall as his free hand leaned up against it, ensuring your comfort as his mouth devoured yours. Hands sliding to cup the back of his head, you bit your lip as he began to nip and suck his way down your neck, humming against the expanse of skin exposed by your nightgown. As he encountered the set of buttons trailing down the front of your sleepwear, his fingers began to work at opening them, one by one, hand delving beneath the thin cotton to cup your right breast.
Sighing heavily in delight, you writhed against him, gnawing on your lip savagely as he circled his tongue around your nipple before sealing his mouth around the hardened bud. Curt seemed to be on some kind of personal mission to test your ability to remain quiet, well aware of that open door just down the hall, of neighbours through the adjoining walls, as he fought with the hem of your nightgown to trail his fingers up the outside of your thigh. Eyes meeting yours with lust-blown pupils as he found no underwear blocking his target, he cupped your mound as his mouth shifted to torture your left breast, forcing you to clamp a hand over your mouth as he parted your folds to apply mind-numbing pleasure to your clit.
The hand still clinging to his hair gripped hard as his middle finger slowly slid deep inside you, a sharp ‘merde’ escaping against your palm as you bucked, and he hummed happily against your sensitive flesh. The feeling of his ring finger joining the insistent thrusting, his thumb continuing its circling pressure, had your head rolling back and forth against the wall, desperately trying to swallow your sobs of pleasure or at the very least smother them against your hand.
“C’mon gorgeous, let me feel you.” He panted against your sternum, pleading once more with the addition of your name before pressing his lips against your skin hotly.
Hips bucking sharply against him, you were helpless not to oblige, clenching rhythmically around his fingers in release. Working you through it until he felt your body slacken against his, Curt then pulled his digits from you carefully, only to make a show of slowly licking them clean, your thighs pressing together quickly as your heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. The instant his mouth was free, you grasped his jaw and pulled him in for a hungry kiss. Pressing closer, he began to slide the hem of your nightgown high above your hips. Sensing his intentions, you quickly reached out to push down the waistband of his boxers, lifting one leg to wrap about his hips.
Pulling back from your lips, his eyes bore into yours as he rocked forward, driving his length home into your warmth. Eyes rolling back into your head, you clung to his shoulders but gasped as he suddenly hiked your second leg to wrap around him, pinning you against the wall with a cocky smirk before beginning to thrust in earnest. Drowning your moans in frantic kisses against his lips, you clutched and pulled at the straps of his undershirt, heels digging into cheeks of his ass. Body already sensitive, and his pelvis grinding so enthusiastically against your clit, it did not take long for you to climax once more.
A squeak flew from your lips as he quickly pulled from your body, sliding down the wall slightly as he deprived you of the sensation of his orgasm, his cum spraying across your lower abdomen instead. Though you supposed it was for the best in the end. Lowering one trembling leg and then another, you reached up to grab a clean handkerchief from its position on the drying line nearby, lips twitching fondly as he insisted on taking it from you to gently wipe your skin clean.
“Woulda come sooner…” he smirked briefly but soldiered on, “but that damn cat kept gettin’ in my way.” He finished with a huff.
“Charbon?” You giggled breathlessly, reaching up to smooth his hair which you had put into such disarray. “He is harmless…”
“What does that name mean, anyway?” He asked, crumpling the handkerchief into his fist.
“Charcoal.” You replied quietly, fingertips tracing along his cheekbones affectionately.
“I’ll turn him into charcoal if he tries to keep me away from you again…” He muttered gruffly, lips pressing against the pads of your fingers as they strayed too close to his mouth.
Your eyes widened at the threat against the cat’s life. “Curt!” You admonished half-heartedly before you pressed your face against his chest to smother your resulting laughter.
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In My Blood Masterlist
Tag list: @precious-little-scoundrel, @luminouslywriting, @polikabra, @beingalive1
#curtis biddick x reader#curt biddick x reader#curtis biddick#curt biddick#mota fanfic#mota fic#mota smut#masters of the air fanfiction#mota#mastersoftheair#masters of the air
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Hi, so I'm very late but I saw a post about pride which led me to Ranboo now using he/they (!! which is so cool) and that led to the mcyt tag and apparently there was a Dream-GNF-Wilbur situation?? I don't have other socials and a lot of what I am finding gets Tumblr Vacuumed :tm:
I have no idea what's happened and I guess it happened long ago enough that there isn't new things or explanations?
Sorry if this isn't clear, but you're really good at explaining things and I'm very confused
im not trying to be mean anon but i cannot believe that this is a message i am getting in june of 2024 ? like. jaw dropping. ok. Ranboo has used he/they for like.. a year and a half? i think. anyway
Dream is just... generally annoying honestly. he can disprove his grooming allegations as much as he want but he still has said really weird stuff to teenagers and im still not convinced he wouldn't fuck his fans. he has too many allegations to even process.
GNF "joked" during a charity stream of a Techno memorial charity event about how he all the money they are RAISING FOR CANCER should go to him instead. He also got an under-aged girl (18) drunk and proceeded to grope her, claiming he did not realize she didn't consent. when again, she was underage, drunk, and never verbally gave permission, which she COULDNT DO because she was intoxicated. source
Wilbur, who i prefer to call William Gold or "abusive asshole" is an abuser who admitted to being an abuser and who's only defense is that he thought she consented. he was too much of a coward to even say her fucking name. Shubble hadn't named him out of fear, but he came forward shortly after with a horrid fucking statement.
several people confirmed Shelby's story of abuse, and everyone from SBI to people who formerly worked with Lovejoy have confirmed him to be a manipulative shithead.
i'm glad you think i'm good at explaining things but all of this stuff is SOO old. here's some good resources, and i'd recommend looking up "(name) situation" for further insight or looking up the discourse tag on my blog. i am so over all these fucking assholes
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“I came to help you!”
“I don’t need your help!” Shiro shouts, hoarse, activating his hand and holds it threateningly between them. Keith’s face crumples, betrayed, and it hurts so bad to see that Shiro can feel the ache of it in his chest. “All I need to know is that you’re safe. Far away from all this.”
Kill him kill him kill him end him end Voltron bring victory to the Empire be the Champion I made you to be
Shiro’s voice cracks. “Away from me.”
Keith doesn’t stop advancing. Tears leak from his eyes, one after another after another until it’s just steady streams, like a leaking faucet that won’t stop. But his jaw is set, and his shoulders are squared, and he won’t back down.
“I came to help you,” he repeats. He sounds as grown as he’s ever sounded, as he says it. Keith’s voice has only gotten deeper with every year in space, and his voice is already rough with emotion. But that’s not who Shiro hears; this man who is stubborn and strong and resolute. He stumbles forward, clutching his hands to his ears, trying to claw out the sound of Her yelling, screaming, ordering him to kill, to fight, to attack. Her screams are interspersed with flashes of memory; of a young boy with his fringe pulled over his eyes, sneaking into his car as he heads to the grocery store I came to help you; a scrawny teen with knobby knees and ill-fitting gloves he refuses to take off, showing up in his office and grabbing some papers to mark I came to help you; an older teen, hair brushed for once, wearing an old black suit, gently plucking the cuff links from Shiro’s hand before the life-changing question-popping dinner and putting them in himself because Shiro’s hands were too shaky I came to help you. Over and over again Shiro sees him, his brother, following behind, I came to help. I came to help you. Let me help. Rough around the edges but soft and kind and loving. His brother. His brother. His brother.
“Let me help,” Keith begs, closer now that he’s ever been, close enough to push Shiro’s arm down, gently, so it’s not a threat. “I came to help, Takashi, let me help.”
“Help me,” Takashi whispers.
Slaughter him, She orders.
The Champion straightens. His eyes glow purple. The Black Paladin draws away in fear, reaching for his bayard, hesitant.
“Please,” he whispers.
The Champion lunges.
———
based on this post
#sorry if this is confusing and also sorry for this in general#vld#voltron#shiro#takashi shirogane#clone shiro#shiro angst#keith#keith kogane#black paladin keith#keith angst#broganes#hurt no comfort#post s5#s6?#my writing#fic fragment
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microfic - bella killing sirius 🥰 | 1.5k words | warnings for um. death. obviously. but also for confusing narrative style ❤️
for the light of my life @quillkiller on this most auspicious day
Bellatrix laughs as Andy - the woman who looks like Andy, except for the purple hair, and the dirty blood - falls backwards away from her. She’s never going to get into the Duelling Club at Hogwarts if she keeps leaving her left side open like that; she’s lucky she has Bellatrix there to teach her.
The woman - her sister, blood-traitor, spawn of a mudblood, fighting on the side of the Order - doesn’t get back up again, limp body tumbling down the steep, stone steps. Bellatrix hasn’t lost a duel since she was thirteen, she holds the Duelling Club record for most consecutive wins - she’s the best person that Andy could have come to for help - she wasn’t going to be beaten by some filthy Auror brat.
Turning away from the unmoving body, Bellatrix runs deeper into the fray, moving towards the raised dais with its stone archway. It’s chaos, flashes of spellfire shooting across the room in all directions, red, purple, white, green, shouts and crashes and explosions as spells miss and damage the room, or as they hit their mark and damage the enemy.
She deflects a curse on instinct, swinging around to face the direction it had come from - a familiar face, her baby cousin - “Bella, will you duel me now?” - a traitor and a coward and unworthy of the name of Black.
Bellatrix returns fire. She’ll go easy on him, because Sirius is just a boy, mock-duelling with a borrowed wand and the small repertoire of spells that he had learned from her or from his parents, but he had always been quick on his feet, good at skipping out of the line of fire - she would make a proper duellist of him yet. She should kill him, for having everything and for running away from it, for turning against her, against his family, cursing their name then having the audacity to use the spells that she had taught him to fight for the wrong side of the war.
It’s the first time that she's seen him since he was disowned, in the middle of Diagon Alley, fighting with the Order of the Phoenix, and she should kill him. It’s the Yule holidays of her seventh year at Hogwarts, Sirius is nine and determinedly dodging her spells, one of their favourite games. They’re both somewhere else, screams and despair and a spinning, ungraspable whirlpool of memories, standing on the raised stone dais now, close enough to hear the whispers from the tattered veil hanging in the archway - soft, insidious, beneath the clamour of the battle.
Sirius throws a spell back at her, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “Hello cousin.”
Bellatrix grins as she dodges - Sirius is always so energetic, so eager to fight with her in a way that even Andromeda never is, let alone Narcissa or Regulus - so desperate to draw her blood, the same blood that runs through his veins, the same blood that he had forsaken, singling her out on any battlefield in the same way that she always did with him. He had run from everything that she had ever wanted - the Black heirship and the power, the esteem, which that entailed - as if it was nothing, as if she didn’t dream about commanding that level of respect, or awe, or fear, as if she hadn’t been scrambling every day of her life to try and get as close to it as she could. Sirius had run away from it, run away from her, and now he was a part of the Order of the Phoenix and she should kill him. She could kill him, the Black Heir, laughing as he narrowly avoids getting hit with a stupefy - he’s only nine, it’s not like he could really defend himself if she started firing off some of the more lethal spells she knew.
She had taught him how to perform the severing charm just the day before, lending him her wand - walnut and dragon heartstring just like the one that had chosen him when he turned eleven - he’s using Cissy’s today, struggling a little against it’s unicorn hair core, mostly relying on his ability to jump out of the trajectory of spells.
The two of them are volleying spells back and forth - ones that she had taught him and ones that the Dark Lord had taught her and ones that he had learnt without her somewhere - dodging or shielding or deflecting, spells barely grazing each other, she always knew that he would make a fine duellist - she had made him into one. They duel like this every time they see each other, during her holidays from Hogwarts, then during his holidays from Hogwarts; she had watched Sirius turn into a threat - she had taught him how to be a threat.
Bellatrix laughs as he manages to shoot off the severing charm that she had taught him - three different lethal curses in quick succession, a determined kind of acrimony about him, not surprised to see her fighting with the death eaters, in the same way that she isn’t really surprised to see him with the Order. She lets it hit her - blocks them all with a complicated shielding charm and throws back a confringo that explodes the cobblestones beneath his feet - still laughing as he cheers about how he’s fatally wounded her, feeling a sting from the shallow cut on her arm - he’s determined as ever but there’s less anger now; he’s playful, grinning when a curse singes the ends of his hair.
She knows she shouldn’t kill him - she isn’t sure if she could kill him anymore, he’s going toe to toe with her in a way that he’d never been able to when they were kids - she doesn’t think she really wants to kill him, her favourite cousin, more just the things that he represents, the signet ring on his finger that gives him an authority, aged nine, that she doesn’t have, can’t have, at nearly double his age - she thinks she wants to kill him now, though, now that he’s betrayed her, found a new family of mudbloods and blood-traitors and abandoned the role that she’s always craved. Bellatrix fires a stunner at him - puts up a hasty shield against his entrail-expelling curse, another one that she had taught him - the two of them laugh as he ducks it, the red light whizzing over his head - “Come on, you can do better than that!”
It’s loud, cacophonous with the battle raging all around them - blood on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, some of it hers, some of it his - Cissy’s complaining that she’s bored and wants to go outside - the whispers emanating from the crumbling stone archway are getting louder, seeping their way into Bellatrix’s head - and Sirius’ voice rings in her ears, echoes around the room.
She flings another spell at him, grinning as she watches him determinedly move through the wand movements for diffindo again - he laughs as she stumbles, as her shield collapses under the force of his reducto, as he gains the upper hand - concentrating on pushing his magic through Cissy’s wand, not paying close enough attention to the spell she’s just cast - Sirius deflects the curses she hurls at him, sends a barrage of spells back at her - he’s laughing, cocky as always, as her spell hurtles directly towards him.
It hits him right in the middle of his chest.
It’s quiet, suddenly.
Quiet as Sirius’s laughter cuts off. As his eyes widen in shock. As he falls backwards, slowly, as if some invisible weight were making him heavy, as if some invisible force were gently lifting him away. She looks at him and his face is gaunt, an underlying emaciation that no amount of hearty meals can hide, she sees the same whenever she looks in a mirror, right down to the tired, but ever determined glint in silver-grey eyes.
Bellatrix watches Sirius sink into the tattered veil - watches him fall to the floor of the duelling room in Grimmauld Place, for a second she imagines that he might be dead, what it would feel like to kill him - watches the grim smile on his face as one of his spells meets its target and her vision goes black - the veil flutters, those insidious whispers seem to pause for a moment, then rise to a roaring crescendo as his body disappears.
She screams along with them, triumphant - she hasn’t lost a duel since she was thirteen, Sirius has never once beaten her, always ending their duels on the floor - she’s killed Sirius Black, and everything that he represents, even if he had spurned the signet ring and the esteem that came with it. Bellatrix walks across the room to enervate him - wakes up in Malfoy Manor, Cissy leaning over her and asking if it was true that Sirius was a part of the Order now, if he had really beaten her in a duel - turns away from the whispers and the archway and the duel that she had won, skipping back up the stone steps, laughing as she hops over Andy’s - the mudblood’s - body.
#HAPPY ONE YEAR JENKARA/SUGARQUILL INTERACTIONAVERSARY!!!!!!!! event of the year guys get to celebrating!!!!!!!!!#also happy sugarsnappeasiversary in general!!!!!! can’t believe my beautiful ao3 has been here for a WHOLE YEAR AAAAAAA BIG STUFF#this is the little something something that i mentioned earlier…. when i decided i wanted to write something for the occasion my first#thought was obvs quillkiller. bc like. this is sugarsnappeas we’re talking about here. but then this happened instead ❤️ so…..#bella killing sirius is like genuinely on my mind near constantly and jen recently read where can i put it down which like. pulled the#thoughts back to the forefront of my mind again. so. microfic.#sorry if it’s confusing. it’s kinda meant to be. anyway ENJOY!!!!!!!#bellatrix black#bellatrix black lestrange#bellatrix lestrange#sirius black#kara’s incy wincy fics
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dnp movie analysis p2: genres, studios, franchises
thanks everyone for enabling me <3 i'm back with some more analysis by genre, franchise, and studio!
genre ratings
first, genre ratings (genre is kinda arbitrary here, tbh; there's a lot of overlap!)
here we have the first table (please tumblr don't mess with the quality) (i can post the excel sheets if needed; r tables were being a pita)
here we have the number, mean (= median for all of this analysis), minimum, and maximum ratings by genre. within each statistic, i've highlighted the minimum (light) and maximum (dark) for dan (blue) and phil for genres with >1 movie (just realized i fucked up western, ignore that lmao)
phil has watched the most horror (64) and dan mostly sci-fi (53). interestingly, but presumably because of their love for these genres, each of their minimum scores went to these genres. if you watch a lot of one type of movie, you're gonna find the duds.
both of them liked christmas movies (tbh this was like, home alone, so), with their highest minimum and mean ratings being for that category (nostalgia, i assume because like, same). lowest mean scores were for superhero movies (both) and mystery (phil). for both of them, marvel was pretty all over the place (we'll get into that in a sec), so that's not super surprising.
their highest minimum scores were both given to war movies, which is a little surprising but this include movies like 1917 and dunkirk which are ~critically acclaimed~, so makes some sense. their minimum max scores went to westerns and mysteries for dan, and musicals, mysteries, and biopics for phil.
here are the histograms/bar charts for genres. these aren't the prettiest tbh, and i excluded some that had only one or two movies / weren't very interesting. without delving deep into the data, you can see how their preferences play out especially in horror and sci-fi, where phil has more highly-rated horror movies (partly because he's rated more) and dan has a lot of highly-rated sci-fi (but also low ratings). you also see how superhero movies are pretty middling -- there's almost a normal distribution! (not really, but sort of!). romance too. there's in general a lot of left skew here -- they like to rate movies highly.
final genre analysis is number of movies in one genre rated by one and not the other. i'm so sorry this table is so long.
i highlighted here the top three genres one has watched without the other. again we see phil likes his horror (and as i said in my last post, a fair amount of these movies were watched when dan was on tour, and this doesn't even include the guillermo del toro's cabinet of curiosities episodes he rated), but also thrillers (similar!) and comedies (which i get; i love to put a comedy on in the background). unsuprisingly, dan's watched a lot of sci-fi without phil, but also horror and comedy. in general, though, his genres are more distributed.
next, studios/franchises!
again, i've highlighted the maximum and minimum in each column, only for franchises. both of them really like ghibli, and dan likes disney more than phil (though i think this is missing big hero 6 now that i'm looking at it again, because dan rated that lower). that's theatre kid behavior: the 4.5 was beauty and the beast, all pixar and aladdin and so on were highly rated.
i fucked up the matrix somehow so just ignore that -- they both gave matrix sequels low scores
turning to franchises, phil is a harry potter hater (valid at this point). but loves lord of the rings. so does dan, though his dan's ratings actually skew pretty high for franchises in general (see: his maximum scores for each franchise are 4.5 or 5); he can pretend to be alternative or whatever but he's still a millennial at heart. their minimums minimums are both for star wars (sequels!) and marvel, which, valid. phil's highest minimum is bond (there were only a couple rated) and dan's is the hunger games, but unlike phil he only rated thg and catching fire, not either mockingjay.
and bar charts!
i only picked the most interesting ones here as well. marvel follows a similar distribution to the superhero movies, which, since they each only rated a couple dc movies (and i didn't include nolan's batmans), makes sense. again they both rate lotr highly, but the hobbit was low. the studio ones are less interesting imo because they skew so far left, but again: dan is such a disney kid.
that's all i have! i love this because dan, for all his faux cynicism, just rates movies so highly + it's so often the movies that don't fit his curated doomer persona but moreso the pooh one. and also phil expressing opinions! phil just watching a lot of horror!! i love it.
#dnp#dan and phil#phan#dan howell#phil lester#also i am so sorry about accessibility; i can make these more accessible (sharing the spreadsheets?) if that's useful#also i have histograms separated into d and p if ppl want to see that instead of these ones which are a little confusing to see them both o#one chart but are also imo good for general trends/comparisons#tbh i think there's an issue with the musical ratings maybe too because the shape here suggests there's no overlap in ratings but they def#both rated at least the greatest showman...#the yapping. is because i was raised by dan.
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i’ve been thinking a lot about what is so unique and appealing about 80s robin jay’s moral standing that got completely lost in plot later on. and i think a huge part of it is that in a genre so focused on crime-fighting, his motivations and approach don’t focus on the category of crime at all. in fact, he doesn’t seem to believe in any moral dogma; and it’s not motivated by nihilism, but rather his open-heartedness and relational ethical outlook.
we first meet (post-crisis) jay when he is stealing. when confronted about his actions by bruce he’s confident that he didn’t do anything wrong – he’s not apologetic, he doesn’t seem to think that he has morally failed on any account. later on, when confronted by batman again, jay says that he’s no “crook.” at this point, the reader might assume that jay has no concept of wrong-doing, or that stealing is just not one of the deeds that he considers wrong-doing. yet, later on we see jay so intent on stopping ma gunn and her students, refusing to be implicit in their actions. there are, of course, lots of reasons for which we can assume he was against stealing in this specific instance (an authority figure being involved, the target, the motivations, the school itself being an abusive environment etc.), but what we gather is that jay has an extremely strong sense of justice and is committed to moral duty. that's all typical for characters in superhero comics, isn't it? however, what remains distinctive is that this moral duty is not dictated by any dogma – he trusts his moral instincts. this attitude – his distrust toward power structures, confidence in his moral compass, and situational approach, is something that is maintained throughout his robin run. it is also evident in how he evaluates other people – we never see him condemning his parents, for example, and that includes willis, who was a petty criminal. i think from there arises the potential for a rift between bruce and jay that could be, have jay lived, far more utilised in batman comics than it was within his short robin run.
after all, while bruce’s approach is often called a ‘philosophy of love and care,’ he doesn’t ascribe to the ethics of care [eoc] (as defined in modern scholarship btw) in the same way that jay does. ethics of care ‘deny that morality consists in obedience to a universal law’ and focus on the ideals of caring for other people and non-institutionalized justice. bruce, while obviously caring, is still bound by his belief in the legal system and deontological norms. he is benevolent, but he is also ultimately morally committed to the idea of a legal system and thus frames criminals as failing to meet these moral (legal-adjacent) standards (even when he recognizes it is a result of their circumstances). in other words, he might think that a criminal is a good person despite leading a life of crime. meanwhile, for jay there is no despite; jay doesn't think that engaging in crime says anything about a person's moral personality at all. morality, for him, is more of an emotional practice, grounded in empathy and the question of what he can do for people ‘here and now.’ he doesn’t ascribe to maxims nor utilitarian calculations. for jay, in morality, there’s no place for impartiality that bruce believes in; moral decisions are embedded within a net of interpersonal relationships and social structures that cannot be generalised like the law or even a “moral code” does it. it’s all about responsiveness.
to sum up, jay's moral compass is relative and passionate in a way that doesn't fit batman's philosophy. this is mostly because bruce wants to avoid the sort of arbitrariness that seems to guide eoc. also, both for vigilantism, and jay, eoc poses a challenge in the sense that it doesn't create a certain 'intellectualised' distance from both the victims and the perpetrators; there's no proximity in the judgment; it's emotional.
all of this is of course hardly relevant post-2004. there might be minimal space for accommodating some of it within the canon progression (for example, the fact that eoc typically emphasises the responsibility that comes with pre-existing familial relationships and allows for prioritizing them, as well as the flexibility regarding moral deliberations), but the utilitarian framework and the question of stopping the crime vs controlling the underworld is not something that can be easily reconciled with jay’s previous lack of interest in labeling crime.
#fyi i'm ignoring a single panel in which jay says 'evil wins. he chose the life of crime' because i think there's much more nuance to that#as in: choosing a life of crime to deliberately cause harm is a whole another matter#also: inb4 this post is not bruce slander. please do not read it as such#as i said eoc is highly criticised for being arbitrary which is something that bruce seeks to avoid#also ethics of care are highly controversial esp that their early iterations are gender essentialist and ascribe this attitude to women#wow look at me accidentally girl-coding jay#but also on the topic of post-res jay.#it's typically assumed that ethics of care take a family model and extend it into morality as a whole#'the ethics of care considers the family as the primary sphere in which to understand ethical behavior'#so#an over-simplification: you are allowed to care for your family over everything else#re: jay's lack of understanding of bruce's conflict in duty as batman vs father#for jay there's no dilemma. how you conduct yourself in the familial context determines who you are as a person#also if you are interested in eoc feel free to ask because googling will only confuse you...#as a term it's used in many weird ways. but i'm thinking about a general line of thought that evolves into slote's philosophy#look at me giving in and bringing philosophy into comics. sorry. i tried to simplify it as much as possible#i didn't even say anything on criminology and the label and the strain theories.#i'm so brave for not info-dumping#i said even though i just info-dumped#jay.zip#jay.txt#dc#fatal flaw#core texts#robin days
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#svsss#scum villains self saving system#shang qinghua#how I be feeling these days ahdnfjgkg#I keep stressing about life in general and its seriously bumming me out hajdjg#how nice it would be to not exist#everyday I wake up and do the same things I hate#time hasn't felt real in years and it goes way before covid times#I haven't felt real in most of those years either#Look I'm lucky I'm not like depressed or whatever but frankly this derealization shit is seriously startin to get a little worrying at times#tbf I only really notice it recently so maybe its just a bias#I've been chugging along this way for years all thats changed is my perception of it#but at the same time I really want to do more too#I get I'm a very boring and unreliable person#and I know I just said its my perception of it but like I do genuinely think my social skills my general living just like me mentally ig#I'm kinda deteriorating in my stagnation ig? artistically too but more worrying in my life idbfjg#priorities sorry anyways I also think I do have adhd or something and that rejection thing dhfjgjg I really can't start things anymore#idk I really just feel so clueless in most things now and I'm too scared or too confused or both to start fixing things#like how do I even fix things? what do I even search for in this kind of thing?#Idk I'm just gonna go sleep ig god I'm so tired of everything#I haven't been able to draw I've really lost passion for a lot of things again and everything irritates me#I can't stand my phone sometimes but it's kinda the only thing getting me through it all ha#ngl I wish I were depressed sometimes if only so I'd actually have the balls to do smth but Ik that's just the Metnally Ail part speaking so#chug chug going along#I also have to make wushi before I die. haha#god my life is so empty#what am I even doing#I'm really so tired why can't my life end here already? modern lifespans are too long how am I supposed to keep going on like this?#so pointless and vapid and its just me ? why did it have to be me that was born? couldn't someone else have been here I hate it here so much#I strive for nothing but I have such a long life and so many people to disappoint haha maybe I should go outside more
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hi honest sincere question how can a man be a lesbian? can amab men be lesbians?
Hi! Thanks for asking respectfully. I am going to answer your question in significantly more detail than you probably wanted. Be warned.
The main reason I think men can be lesbians is: I think people can use whatever words they think most accurately describe their identity and/or experience. These words might not necessarily be words that they are, but still words that they use to describe themselves.
Lesbian does have a lot of feminine connotations, and can cause dysphoria for many men, so men who use both terms have often put a lot of thought into it. I might not understand their reasons, but I'm sure they have their reasons.
You don't need to understand to be respectful, but if you're curious, here is an explanation of why some men choose to identify as lesbians. This got so long that I'm dividing it with subtitles. I'm so sorry if you didn't want to read all this.
Lesbian Trans Men
Men who identify as lesbians tend to be trans men. Of course, wanting to use the label lesbian is a minority of trans men who like women! Definitely don't assume all trans mlw are comfortable being called a lesbian, or call a trans man a lesbian without permission.
At least for me, labels describe how I feel in the present but also the way I have experienced gender and attraction throughout my life. Right now I'm a man who's attracted to women, but at lunch today I was talking about how it felt in middle school to be a "girl" who liked girls, and I used the word lesbian to communicate that.
Trans men who have spent a very long time identifying as a lesbian and being a part of the lesbian community, often decades, might continue using the label lesbian after transitioning. If a trans man feels like he spent his life as a lesbian rather than a straight man, the former might feel most accurate to describe his experience.
Trans men might also identify as lesbian due to being in the closet. Internally, I feel more like a straight man, but that's not really how I'm seen by the rest of the world. I'm out to a few close friends offline, but pretty much all my other classmates or teachers or relatives or acquaintances think of me as a woman.
If I called myself straight, that would most likely be interpreted as me being a straight woman. I'm open about liking women, though, which means I would either have to be out as lesbian or bi. I definitely shouldn't call myself bi, because I'm not attracted to multiple genders. So, I go with lesbian. It's not the perfect label, but it gets the point across. (The point being "I think women are hot.")
Male =/= Solely, Always, Exclusively Male
Men who are lesbians are not always exclusively men. Multigender people exist! I'm one of them. If someone is bigender with those genders being a man and a woman, and they're attracted to women, I don't think it really makes sense to say that they can't be a lesbian.
I'm assuming you (anon) support nonbinary lesbians, since that's the general trend I've noticed among those who are trans-inclusive but don't understand male lesbians. Some nonbinary people will also identify as men. If nonbinary people can be lesbians, nonbinary men can be lesbians.
A genderfluid person might sometimes be a man and sometimes be another gender(s) that are more commonly included in lesbianism, and like women, and use both labels.
This could apply to anyone regardless of assigned gender, so those are some examples of how a man assigned male at birth could be a lesbian.
AMAB Male Lesbians
As for whether men who were AMAB can be lesbians... yes, but I want to clarify that not just any cis man should go "lol I'm a lesbian" because it's funny. Someone would need to put thought into why the feel like lesbian is the best label for them.
In the case of a man who was AMAB, they would probably feel like lesbian is a good descriptor due to having a complex relationship with their gender. Being genderqueer and being an AMAB man or AFAB woman are not mutually exclusive.
Gender Non Conformity
There's a type of identity that I believe is referred to as a cusp identity, or something like that? It is where someone might blur the line or exist in the grey area between two different identities with an overlap in a lot of experiences.
There might be someone who is on the cusp right between being a trans woman and an extremely gender nonconforming man. They might not be sure which one they fall into, or feel like they exist right in the middle. This person might identify simultaneously as or right between "lesbian trans woman" and "feminine presenting cishet man."
There are also some people who identify with their assigned gender, but pursue medical transition in a way typically associated with a different gender. I have a friend who identifies fully as a cis woman, but thinks she might want to get bottom surgery. It's a type of gender nonconformity, you know?
I don't know anyone who's had this experience in reverse, but it's definitely possible. I'm sure there's a cis man out there somewhere who has or wants to medically transition to "female." And I think it would make sense if this hypothetical person wanted to identify as a lesbian.
Trans Women
Just to be clear, I am NOT saying trans women are men. They aren't. (Unless they're multigender, which is cool.) But monogender trans women aren't men, and definitely should not be misgendered.
Similar to how a straight trans man might be closeted and call himself a lesbian, a lesbian trans woman might be closeted and call herself a man. Again, this lesbian trans woman wouldn't be a man. However, a she might refer to herself as a man to stay safe, or just because she's not comfortable being out yet, but might also refer to herself as a lesbian online or around a few people she's close with. She's not actually a lesbian man, but using both labels would still be enough to get cancelled by those violently against male lesbians.
Some trans women might also still be eggs (not yet realize they're trans). I know that prior to coming out as trans, some gay trans people have said something like "I'm a man, but I want to be in a lesbian relationship" or "I'm a girl and I love reading mlm fanfiction, I like to imagine myself as one of the characters." A trans woman just beginning to explore gender could identify or want to identify with being a lesbian, while still not fully realizing she's not a man. Again- not actually a man, but someone who might use both labels.
Arguments Against Lesbian Men
Now, I know there are a lot of reasons this is controversial, and some of them are even in good faith. However, they are still misguided.
"It's Misgendering Trans Men"
Many people are opposed to trans men being lesbians because they're trans men and would feel dysphoric if called a lesbian, or are an ally and don't want trans men to be misgendered.
That's a very understandable concern, but see my earlier note about not calling a trans man a lesbian without permission.
Trans men aren't a monolith, and everyone's comfortable with different things. Some trans men are comfortable wearing dresses and some trans men are comfortable being called "sis" or "queen" or something, but many aren't, and that's all okay!
I think people just need to be clear that even though some trans men are okay with this, it doesn't apply to all trans men.
"Cishet Men Will Pretend To Be Lesbians"
Another reason people are against male lesbians is because they're concerned cis straight men will call themselves lesbians for no reason other than they think it's funny, or they want to make lesbians uncomfortable. Which I agree; that's shitty, and they shouldn't do that.
But I feel like most of the time, they do make it pretty clear they don't genuinely identify as a lesbian. People with complex or contradicting identities generally understand that their labels don't make a lot of sense at first glance, so they tend to offer a short explanation. They have no obligation to go on and on defending their right to exist, but a sentence or two is good and most people are totally willing to provide that.
I've had friends ask about me being both a trans man and a lesbian, and I've given a short explanation, and it works! Because they aren't assholes! The main one that comes to mind happened shortly after I told my best friend I was changing my name, and it went something like this.
Me, after seeing a pretty girl: Oh my god, I'm so gay for her.
Friend: Do you still identify as gay? I thought you might want to be called straight now, since you're a trans guy.
Me: I'm, like, both a man and a woman? So lesbian and straight man are both fine with me.
Friend: Okay, cool. Let me know if you decide you don't want to be called lesbian anymore since I don't want to make you feel dysphoric.
And then that was it! It wasn't a big deal. With just a short conversation, I established that I was a lesbian man because I'm bigender and not because I'm just saying it for the lols.
I do understand the desire to stop cishet men from making lesbian jokes, but the thing is, there's no reliable way to do so that won't also end up harming some queer people. I mean, TERFs argue that trans women can't be lesbians because then what's to stop a straight man from invading the lesbian community by falsely claiming he's a trans woman, you know? But just because some people might abuse other queer peoples' genuine identity, doesn't mean no one can use that identity.
"They're Invading Lesbian Spaces"
Those against male lesbians are trying to stop men from invading lesbian spaces. While I agree that lesbian spaces should be for lesbians, and I think it's wrong for people to attend an all-lesbian support group or something if they know they're not a lesbian, I also know I can't stop them.
What are we supposed to do, go around forcing everyone there to prove they are a Real Actual Lesbian? Who decides what a Real Actual Lesbian is? How do we verify if people are telling the truth on the questions asked to prove Real Actual Lesbian? Keeping 100% of non lesbians out of lesbian spaces just isn't a feasible goal and it's not fair to make everyone prove their identity like that.
If someone in a lesbian safe space is causing any harm to others, they should be kicked out, but this applies even if they are a Real Actual Lesbian. Lesbians are perfectly capable of hurting other lesbians and being a lesbian doesn't give them a free pass to get out of consequences.
Male Lesbians Are Rapists
An extension of the "invading lesbian spaces" arguments is that lesbian men are forcing or pressuring lesbians to date or sleep with men.
However, lesbian men don't necessarily expect or even want other lesbians to be attracted to them. Lesbians don't have to be attracted to every other lesbian in the world! Sometimes, people don't find another person attractive, and that's fine. Sometimes, people are not attracted to a certain gender, and someone of that gender being a lesbian won't change that.
I'm not attracted to nonbinary people, and there are plenty of nonbinary lesbians, and I'm not attracted to them. Which is fine! Them being lesbians doesn't mean I have to be attracted to them, and me not being attracted to them doesn't make them not lesbians. Accepting someone as their identity doesn't mean you have to find them attractive.
I might be attracted to a lesbian and ask her out, and she might respond "Sorry, I'm not attracted to men and since you're bigender I wouldn't be comfortable sleeping with you."
What I would not say: "But I'm a lesbian! You accepted me into your lesbian safe space, which means you have to sleep with me. Checkmate."
What I would say: "I understand, have a nice day."
In the above scenario, if someone in that situation refused to accept that the lesbian woman wasn't attracted to them, that would be shitty no matter what. It would be shitty if that person was a male lesbian, and it would be shitty if that person was a cis woman. Because it is shitty to not respect people's boundaries.
This isn't something only lesbian men are capable of doing. Most lesbian men are perfectly respectful people who would not rape anyone, and if they do? They're shitty, but they're not shitty because they're a lesbian man. They're shitty because they're a rapist.
Claiming that someone would lie about their gender identity to rape people is entry-level transphobia. You cannot believe "male lesbians are just lying so they can rape lesbians" and then call yourself a trans ally. They are mutually exclusive.
Political Lesbianism
Finally, this argument is derived from TERF rhetoric. If you're not familiar with political lesbianism, it's a radical feminist ideology that can be summarized by "don't date or fuck men." Being a lesbian was a feminist choice that wasn't necessarily about attraction to women, but about not being involved with men. This sounds quite a lot like the common lesbian definition used against male lesbians; "non men loving non men." A major component of TERFism is trying to keep men (or those they believe to be men) away from women's/lesbian spaces, and including trans women doesn't change the fact that the ideologies stem from the exact same place. There have been anti male lesbian posts that genuinely sound exactly like a TERF wrote them, which is pretty telling. If you're violently against any men ever being lesbians, odds are you've been drinking the TERF juice, and you probably need to unpack that.
Conclusion
This is ridiculously long and I have been writing it for the last two and a half hours. I am very thankful and also kind of apologetic to anyone who just read every single word I vomited out.
Basically, even if you disagree with someone using both "man" and "lesbian" to label themself, I would recommend leaving them alone. They're describing their identity in the way that works best for them, and they're not hurting anyone. You don't need to like their identity, and you definitely don't need to understand it, but you do need to be respectful. It costs $0 to not be an asshole.
If you're considering telling a lesbian man their identity is invalid, take my advice and simply... don't do that. There are so many other things you could do with your time.
The queer community has a lot of problems. The world in general has even more problems. In the grand scheme of things, someone identifying as a male lesbian literally does not matter.
That's finally all, thanks for reading.
#anon i am so fucking sorry you did NOT sign up for this monster of an essay#rip#also to clarify most of the time when i said you i wasn't talking to anon specifically#just a general you#i know it's confusing so yeah wanted to make sure that was clear#lesbian trans men#lesbian men#male lesbian#multigender lesbian#idk what other things i should tag#lesbian#pride tag#okay i will shut up now
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The cursed link generator came up with this
I love him a normal amount
#This was subconsciously inspired by les miserables#I imagine this link is a lot like marius in the book#Just more bitter and less lovesick#Loz#tloz#character design#cursed link generator#Cursed hero generator#The legend of Zelda#link tloz#link#I have a lot of thoughts about this guy#also sorry the angles are weird#If I try to fix it it ruins the image quality :(#Tags continue to confuse me#My art#TLOZ au#loz au
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#bwark#isat lb#it's done#my thought are so fucking messy rn so i'll and be coherent but GODDD what a good game. really really really good fucking game#i kiiiinda got spoiled on the loop stuff. which is a shame but oh well. at least i was in the dark about the act 5 finale#plus i didn't have context for it i just know that there was some selfcest yuri going on#i wanna think on it some more but. this might be my new favourite game?#that feels so wrong to say because pmdeos has been my favourite game since i was 9 years old and i'm so attached to it#but this game was honestly life changing? whether or not i consider it my favourite game (or my favourite piece of media in general)#it's so important to me now#also why do my two favourite games both have time travel in them. i'm not even the biggest fan of time travel stories because i get easily#confused by them. but both isat and eos are phenomenal examples of it being really good#i need to like. just sit and think for a bit. but this was healing for me. sorry for being so sappy djdjkdjdjjd#and isat mutuals you are of course welcome to gush about spoilers to me now
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