#but fuckin. more than one person who wants to read more of the words ive written? v special

[mishapen-dear]

one of the loveliest things about posting fic on ao3 is getting to see one person leave kudos on multiple stories like. hello stranger ;^; im glad you liked my writing enough to read more of my writing

#it’s why i havent turned off the kudo email notifs yet #and tbh one of the things that keeps me from looking at Numbers because number are frivlous and dependant on trend/day/chance #but fuckin. more than one person who wants to read more of the words ive written? v special #idk there’s something v humanizing about that #it makes me think about a dm i got a long time ago #someone who wanted to copy/paste my fic into their minecraft library #a) that would have been just one set of numbers #but holy shit. they wanted to take some of my words and put it in their game #b) if that world wasnt deleted then that little book with my inexperienced baby writer words is still out there #like i dont delete my works because i am Heartbroken when other people delete theirs #but. something about the act of preserverence also being an act of love #(<- good horror concept right there) #and its just one person. one number. and an entire saved copy of my work #i forgot about that until today is the craziest thing #hm i thibk i should go to bed #but no yeah someone choosing to read more than one of my stories and make it all the way thru to leave kudos feels exactly the same way as #getting asked by some kid to send them my fic in their dms so they could put it in their library

[rosekasa]

20 questions for fic writers!

thank u @jattendschaton for tagging me 🥺 i love these questions

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

i have 107 on maketea, but with my um. two other accounts i have 128

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

on maketea i have 293,935, but with at least one of my other accounts (one of them is for ml and one of them for another fandom, the latter of which i cant be bothered to log in to rn shdjsk) the total is 313,681!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

miraculous ladybug mainly! but i have also written for owari no seraph. ive written for other fandoms but im not counting it if i literally only have one work to my name for them HSJAJA with ons at least i have 3 on maketea and 12 on my other account

THEORETICALLY. i also write for sailor moon. i have a substantial amount in my google docs. they just havent manifested themselves into existence yet

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

apology gifts, like poles of a magnet, new marinette, a nine-year old (fhfjsj), and i'll marry you! ive actually had kudos/hits/comments stats hidden on ao3 since 2021 so i have no clue how many kudos any of these have which is very funny to me

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i try to but i always get distracted midway through going through my inbox which is totally on me fjdkka. i always decide to do it when im literally in the middle of class for whatever fuckin reason HAHAHA. i also always feel bad because im like 'oh i havent replied to this in literally two years im too embarrassed to reply now'

i also want to reply with more than just 'thank you' because comments mean SO MUCH TO ME but i think i psych myself out of replying because im too scared i won't be able to express it properly

im trying to resolve to get better at it!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ehemememem. ya'aburnee.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

ooh, id say new marinette! in terms of like. the emotional arc or whatever

i was gonna say lpoam, but i think there's still a bit of lingering Sad there

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nope!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i want to say no. but ive been writing fics for ten years now and i feel like i mustve done Something weird when i was younger

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yep, for an old fandom on wattpad!

shdkska this is really funny, but back then i made a playlist for the fic, and i remember the person who translated it wrote in their translation of that chapter 'i wouldve done it differently but it's okay' that still makes me laugh

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yep, i did one for owari no seraph and one for ml! i have some others in the works tho hehe

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

guess

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

oh hmm. i think i am delusional and believe all my wips will someday be finished HDJFJSJS so im changing this question to 'doubt you will in the near future'. for that, id say maybeeee my amnesia adrien fic. 40k words in the doc and babe is still marinating

16. What are your writing strengths?

hmm. i think im quite good at writing interactions! i mean, i like the way i write them at least. i love capturing the feeling of being with people and i think i do it well!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

there's something that feels kind of hesitant when i read my docs sometimes? it feels like im worried to hit the point of the plot head-on and skirting around what i actually want to say. i think what i'm trying to do to improve is to be a bit more direct in my narration style and focus on being descriptive only when it's needed.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

ive done it before!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

oh i dont want to answer this. one direction

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

like poles of a magnet <3

tagging @destiny-with-you , @mozzygan , @asukiess , @ladyofthenoodle , and whoever else wants to do this!!! just say i tagged u when u do it hehe

#♡alizeh talks♡

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 3/21/2023

i didn't want to sit down and write this bc i was having too much fun playing viddy gaem

listening

IT'S QUICKER AND EASIER TO EAT YOUR YOUNG!!!

"i'm starving...darling,,," is very sexy but the way the lyrics slowly slide into something more and more horrifying until the chorus hits??? mwah. lovely.

my one critique is that this song is...breathy, for lack of a better word? does not showcase the man's magnificent pipes. oh well! there are other songs.

how'd i find this: im gay, also he is one of the most popular indie artists in the World. his first album went platinum six fucking times.

-

reading

i read all of frank miller's sin city bc im on a noir kick and i didn't have a good time. the closest i got to fun was (deadly little, always described as "deadly little") Miho, a mute japanese??? generic asian??? assassin who is tits out not in these panels but in almost all others, rollerblading around mowing down guys with her katana. that was a painful sentence to write.

i read a lot of genre fiction. i read a lot of older genre fiction. they are not written with me, a bisexual "woman", in mind. and that’s ok bc not everything has to be written with me in mind. rarely have i read something that is more For The Boys Only!!! than frank miller’s sin city. felt kind of gross and a little put off the whole time i read these and they made me a little bit upset and afraid of men in a way i have not felt since high school. now it does feel odd to go “i didn’t think this noir was very pleasant >:(“ but miller’s work feels unpleasant and distinct from, say, chandler or hammett in a way i am still having trouble articulating. it is possible that the misogyny in chandler is a flavor i already know and barely register the taste of anymore. it may be that i got tired of looking at miller's women with twelve-inch waists and nipples as full and perky as their mouths.

mostly i think the labor market in sin city is super fucked up. women in sin city exist to have their value extracted from them in a way that is different and worse than normal capitalism. like, i can see how someone would read these comics and go full SWERF. women are literal trophies, both arm candy and in a very upsetting trophy hunting way. especially in the final volume, women are machines of potential profit. aside from one landlady and one cop and one child who grows up to be a prostitute, all the women in this whole city seem to be prostitutes or prostitutes who have married up and out. like there aren’t really even any women on the street just walking or in diners. it’s all dudes.

this is probably a comics vs novels thing, but miller is often sadistic in a way that chandler is not. a guy dies on a page to make cool art. they fuckin mow through dozens of goons a volume. if a guy dies in chandler it’s usually bc chandler's philip marlowe has stumbled across a dead body accident and it becomes a tremendous pain in order to tip off the cops that a body needs retrieving without getting framed for the kill. marlowe (and by extension chandler) is a people person-- he is a detective bc he likes figuring out what makes people tick. he is alert and it's hard to get one over on him but his resting state is congenial. despite his job, he still does believe in the concept of justice.

sin city (more of a comment than a question) says "if people piss you off you should kill them." this is not to make light of the very real Situations that protagonists in sin city find themselves, but there are very few problem solving skills on display other than "apply dick" or "apply gun". VERY RARELY, "apply pussy". that last one almost never works out tho.

aside from All That, it does contain some of the best straight up art (not just comics art) ive ever seen. the command of light and shadow is incredible. the command of negative space is incredible. panels aren’t busy unless they’re showing the chaos of a scene. he doesn't draw every single brick bc that's not important to the scene. it’s really quite stunning.

also the MOVEMENT in this fringe is incredible. do u see what i mean about the nipples tho

-

watching

i gotta lotta fuckin bones to pick with the manda/lorian but they're all spoilery. this shit fucking sucks man. it's twenty fucking twenty three we have had well over a century to master storytelling through the art of the moving image.

all three eps so far have felt very weirdly edited-- like a lot of changes happened after filming and there wasn't enough time for pickups?? this is a gajillion dollar show just reshoot some shit on your little fake stage i am Begging you. at least bo-katan looked hot. god she's awful i love her

again again i say to ye, what if star wars was good? i am slightly terrified that andor may have ruined me for any s/tar wars that follows but by any metric these first three s3 mando eps are simply not good television.

-

playing

ty @pasta-pardner for gifting me Weird West some weeks ago bc it is the new thing i am obsessed with. this first trailer gives a better sense of the Vibes than the launch trailers imo

i find it is scratching a lot of the rpg itches that new vegas does: you wander around beautiful western settings running into weird shit, followed around by a hot butch you've recruited to your cause. unlike new vegas, it is a little less forgiving and you have to really scrap and loot everything that isn't nailed down.

this is a top-down action rpg with a weird little aiming system that is sort of a 3D twinstick? it takes some getting used to, and shooting is not the part of any game i am particularly good at. here's xbox wire's screenshot, which gives a good idea of how isometric it is and what enemy detection looks like. i do wish i could expand the minimap, bc some of the locations like mines or bigger towns can really sprawl.

i have one big annoyance bc it is a thing that made me take a break and sulk for a bit: as you're traveling across the map (not open world, location-based), you can run into Travel Encounters. you can decline to engage with some of them. you cannot save within or between the encounters unless you stop and make camp. if you're on a long journey to a different corner of the map, you might run into three Travel Encounters. if you die on the third, you are catapulted back to your starting point. this is tremendously annoying in the early game, so either take short trips or get good at about-facing and exiting areas quickly.

a writer i admire likes games that let him tell stories about what happened in the game to other people-- this is a game that very much facilitates that. i was ambushed during a Travel Encounter by the some outlaws, bc i accidentally let one escape while i was trying to collect a bounty on his boss, and that specific named grunt came back with a Vendetta. but! i met a dying outlaw from the band who kidnapped my character's husband in a different second encounter, swapped some bandages for a treasure map, and he is now a Friend for Life. so he showed back up to help me during that ambush AGAINST FELLOW OUTLAWS WHO SEEM TO HAVE SOME SORT OF MEMORANDUM OF UNDERSTANDING??? mWAH. DELICIOUS. LOVE SYSTEMS INTEROPERATING.

ive put like six hours into this, and it has five chapters with five different characters. i have not progressed past the first chapter bc i am having so much fun poking around. i am so so so grateful that the first character is a wife seeking revenge and not the other way around. ppl are throwing big baby tantrums in the steam forums about this but you know what? some husbands should be macguffins sometimes. widens their perspective.

i am fascinated by the drips and drabs of lore this game is feeding me. there's an order of witches with huge underground temples that (crucially!) they did not build, but have adopted for their own uses without really understanding who built them and why. i want to know so much more about their whole shit. there are werewolves but idk what their deal is bc i haven't met any yet.

i am a simple woman! i only demand perfect cowboy western-flavored rpgs and so far this is holding up. i will have more thoughts as i go along but goddamn is it fun to play. we truly do love a competent little rpg with interesting lore and good stealth mechanics that lets you loot everything in sight.

-

making

mostly fallow week, wrists hurty

made this tuna-chickpea salad for lunch. it is quite rich for a lunch. there are a lot of components that may be challenging to digest all together for a milennial with tummy troubles.

this would have definitely been improved by solid instead of cheap chunk tuna (or salmon. this would be great with canned salmon) and if i actually chopped the baby spinach instead of going "it's fine" and flinging it all in. or maybe wilting the spinach, but that's a lot of extra work and this would be a very warm, wet salad :/ the point is the chickpeas really want to sink to the bottom. i like that there is no cooking involved, only assembling, but realistically i have only half of these ingredients in my house at any given time. screengrabs from the site bc i paid a dollar but there's no reason you have to

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #this is 1600 words i am so sorry nyx

[carolmunson]

starting from zero, got nothing to lose (IV)

part i part ii part iii part iv

a lil’ saucy, a lil’ sassy, a lil’ fighty, a lil’ flirty - we finally face the realization that eddie munson is definitely a music snob and it starts a bit of a tussle. unfortunately for him, some words cut a little too deep. 

cw/tw: drinking, drug use mention, addiction mention, drug dealing 

and of course, if you’re under eighteen, please do not read any of my content

By three in the morning the bar was starting to empty out, only some stragglers left at the tables in the back. Eddie was back at his stool at the end of the bar, pleased with himself for another successful night.

“Alright Ron, I’m headin' out,” Tony said, tapping the bartop and heading to the door.

“Whatcha mean you’re ‘heading out’?” she asked, “I have to close tonight.”

“Okay? And I gotta go fuck Debbie in Queens,” he said, “I don’t really see where closing tonight involves me.”

“The fuckin’ gate’s broken Tone, I’m not closing here by myself so some weirdo can rob me,” Rhonda complained, “Also, Queens? For what? She lives in the Village.”

“Don’t remember the part where it was your business where I go fuck Debbie. What’s your damage?”

Eddie laughed, he always did when he was a little uncomfortable.

“Do not encourage him,” Ron scolded, turning her attention back to her boss, “Tony, I’m not closing by myself. Can you fuck Debbie in Queens another night?”

“Who asks that?” Tony had both hands on the bar now, “Close by yourself, you’re a big girl Rhonda. You’ve done it a million times.”

“With a gate that closes. You didn’t let Debbie close by herself last night. Oh wait, probably because you were fucking her!” her voice raised slightly, soaked in sarcasm.

“I’m not doing this shit with you today, Ron,” he looked around for a minute and landed on Eddie.

“Munson, you mind staying while she clos–”

“No,” she interrupted.

“You want me to ask Spike? He’s fourteen beers and six shots in,” Tony held his hands out, “What do you want me to do here?”

“I don’t mind staying, I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Eddie said quietly, drumming his fingertips on the bar. Rhonda let out a big sigh and put her hands on her hips.

“Fine, fine,” she said, “Get these assholes out before you leave, Tone.” She gestured to the group of drunks in the back of the room. Tony went to work on coaxing his friends out of Skid before they puked in it.

Rhonda reached under the bar and pulled two beers out, putting one in front of her and one in front of Eddie.

“You have to pay for those,” Tony called out while ushering the guys out of the door.

“I don’t and I won’t,” she retorted, taking the caps off with her belt buckle. She watched the rest of the men leave, Tony giving them a wave before heading out too. Eddie heard the click of the lock and the grating of the gate, seeing that it only closed a third of the way down.

“I could probably fix that for you guys,” he said, “If I brought my tools down here.”

“That would be cool,” she said, “You know, if you showed up more than once a week.”

“I’ll try, but if I can level with you...knowing that you're so desperate to see me makes me not want to come in more often,” a sly grin spread across his face and he watched Rhonda come around the bar to sit on the stool next to him.

“Please keep not coming it, it makes my nights much easier,” she said, toying with the beer bottle in her hand, “Tell me about you. Debbie said you were from Indianapolis?”

“Indiana,” he corrected, “Hawkins, Indiana.”

“Oh right! Where that big earthquake was,” she nodded, “Wild, huh? Everyone make it out okay?”

Eddie tensed, “Uh, sort of.”

“Is your family out there?”

Eddie shook his head, surprised at the sting of the question, “Nah, my parents bounced when I was a kid. Was staying with my uncle but he died in ‘87, so, kind of on my own. Doing my own thing. I still have some friends over there, but obviously I’m not seeing much of 'em.”

“What made you want to come here?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’m not exactly Hawkins’s favorite person,” he shrugged, his hair brushing his cheeks, “Sort of a better off dead kind of thing.”

“Sorry if that was like, a heavy thing to ask,” Rhonda placed her free hand close to his, on the bar, “I didn’t mean to y’know…bring up anything shitty.”

“It’s okay,” he ran his tongue over his lips, suddenly very aware of how close she was sitting to him, “So, are you from New York?”

She snorted, getting up from the stool and walking back behind the bar,  “No, absolutely not.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he leaned forward, keeping his chest square to her. He kept his left hand busy spinning the ring on his fore finger, “All that attitude, y’know? That’s what I expected everyone to be like.”

“I’m from Boston,” she said, starting to reorganize the bottles on the wall, “Well, technically from Lynn, but I take it you don’t know Massachusetts so I’m just gonna say Boston.”

“What brought you here?” he asked.

“I got kicked out when I was 19,” she said, making a face he could see in the mirrored backsplash, “Was really into coke. Understandably, my parents weren’t really into me doing coke.”

“Not really cool of them to leave you on your own, though.”

“I was not a good person,” she said, shaking her head, “They were right to do that. I think eventually they were just protecting themselves.”

“I don’t think that’s fair,” he insisted.

“I couldn’t stop stealing, always getting into some kind of trouble. I was a mess,” she shrugged, turning around and taking another swig of beer.

“So I took a bus out here, did a shit ton of coke, waited tables, did a shit ton of coke, started dancing and trading, did a shit ton of coke, met Tony at the club, did a shit ton of coke, started bartending and…” she pointed at him.

“Did a shit ton of coke,” he finished.

“Bingo,” Rhonda smiled while giving him a little shot from her finger gun, “But, while I was dancing and working at Skid, you know, a lot of the girls were getting into crack and heroin. Lot of needles, lots of girls getting HIV. Scared me really straight.”

“Oh shit,” he said, “How long have you been off it?”

“Three years,” she nodded, leaning a hip on the bar, “Yeah, about a year into me and Tony getting together I told him I had to stop. Helping me get my shit together is probably the best thing he’s ever done, that fuckin’ asshole.”

“You guys aren’t still…?”

Ron laughed, “Oh no, no, we broke up a long time ago. I think the end of ‘87? He’s still my best friend; love him to death, but God does he piss me off.”

“Do you talk to your family anymore?”

She shook her head no, “My nana sends me a letter every now and again with a few bucks in it, but that’s about it.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he said gently.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” she said, “I’ve adapted. It’s not like I had any other choice.”

“I know what you mean,” Eddie nodded in earnest. He felt his heart race at the glimpse of her vulnerability, the slight tug of a frown creeping across her face.

“So why does Hawkins hate you?” she asked, “I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

“I was a freak,” Eddie said matter of factly, shrugging his shoulders, “That’s all.”

“Was?” she teased, “You aren’t anymore?”

“Ha. Ha. I uh, played a game called Dungeons and Dragons in high school,” he said, trying to read her face to see if she knew what it was, she didn’t. “Anyway, it was kind of the big bad of the whole Satanic Panic thing in my town. So with the game, and my hair, and my tatts – you know, I wasn’t really the most popular guy at Hawkins High.”

“I think there’s some guys that come here, actually, that play that. The name sounds familiar,” she said while fiddling with the stereo by the register, “Do you still play?”

“Still do,” he smiled. ‘Still do, you should come see us. We play at the Hideout on Tuesdays…’ Eddie felt a dull ache in his chest, not remembering the last time he felt both so at ease and so nervous talking to a girl since that day in the woods with Chrissy. Suddenly, the opening chords of Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ flooded the bar.

“Rrrrreally?” Eddie whipped his towards her in shock.

“From close to open, it’s my bar. From open to close, it’s Tony’s bar. That’s the bargain,” Ronnie said, turning back to face him from the stereo.

He scrunched his nose, “Whitney, huh? Color me surprised.”

She popped the caps off of two more beers and put one in his hand and the other on the bar for herself. Eddie cocked his head, “Do you even like metal?”

“It’s okay,” she said, ducking behind the bar and reappearing with a rag and spray bottle.

“So why wear the battle vest?” he asked, a little annoyed, “If it’s just okay.”

“Tony made it for me when I started working at the bar,” she explained, spraying the bar top down, “Bartending is just…acting with liquor. It’s like my costume. In all honesty, I’m sure he just wanted me to cover my tits when we were dating.”

His jaw tensed, “So you’re a… poser?”

“I’d more sayyyy…playing the part,” she smiled, “You were convinced, right?”

“I was,” he nodded, crossing his arms, “So you don’t like any metal?”

“I like metal, I promise,” her voice lilted, “It’s just not like, you know, the same way you all like it. It’s not my whole personality.”

Eddie huffed, “Okay.”

“What? I’m not wrong,” she said, walking over to the tables next to the bar stools and spraying them down, “This ‘scene’ is the entire personality of everyone who comes to Skid. Tony would be too if he wasn’t such a movie nerd.”

“Or you just haven’t gotten to know anyone outside of the bar,” he turned towards her on the stool, leaning back on the bartop with his thighs splayed apart.

“I don’t think there’s a lot of guys at this bar worth knowing outside of it,” she confessed, wiping down the table in front of him. The vest fell away from her body when she leaned over, revealing the same leather bustier from the first night he met her. Eddie felt the heat in his cheeks rise as her chest shook with every wipe she made.

“Even me?” he asked, picking the beer up off the bar and walking over to the tables near her.

“Especially you,” she said, moving on to the next table, “You just told me you play around in dungeons!”

“Dungeons and Dragons, Ron, it’s a fantasy game,” he repeated, “But something tells me you’d be more into me playing around in dungeons.”

“Pfft, sure,” she rolled her eyes. The tape in the stereo whirred before switching to the next track. Like A Prayer leaked out of the sound system, Eddie started to laugh at her.

“You’re kidding! You’re killing me here,” he said, “Not Madonna.”

“This is a great song,” she said defensively.

“It’s uh…it’s not, but whatever helps you get through the night,” he teased. Eddie decided she’d laid into him enough throughout the night, he might as well let her have it back.

She made a face to herself and mid table wipe looked up at him, “So are you just gonna sit there and watch me clean the bar or are you gonna help?”

“I thought I was just the lookout,” he said, leaning on his hands on the back of one of the chairs, “Since you’re the one who didn’t want to be here by yourself.”

“I’m okay by myself,” she bristled.  

“Great, so I’ll just head out. Since you’re okay,” he shrugged, “I know you can fight.”

“Don’t–” Ron started as he feigned walking towards the door.

“So you don’t wanna be by yourself?” he tilted his head, traipsing back over, “Not as tough as I thought.” He smirked at her while she turned her attention to the corner booth he commandeered the past two nights, clearly annoyed. Eddie let his mind wander to how she might look bent over it in front of him. His mouth pooled with spit.

“Just because you don’t like Madonna doesn’t mean you need to make fun of me for liking it,” she said quietly. He swallowed the saliva in his mouth quickly.

“It’s just not what I expected, it’s so – I don’t know – normie of you?” he tried to explain.

“Normie of me?” she turned around and crossed her arms, leaning on the table behind her, “What does that even mean?”

“I mean like, of course, you listen to Madonna and Whitney. I’m sure you love Wham,” he teased, “But you come here and pretend like you’re a part of the metal scene when you’re a total conformer. You’re a normie like everyone else.”

“You know what’s funny,” her voice raised slightly, taking a step toward him, “You wanna talk so big about being different and non-conforming but you look like every metal loving Tom, Dick, and Jerry that comes in this bar. You all dress the same, you all listen to the same music, you all fuck the same girls, do the same drugs, drink the same whiskey. You’re a dime a dozen. If I’ve seen one Eddie Munson, I’ve seen ‘em all.”

“Metal is a fucking movement, Rhonda,” he glared down at her, matching her step forward, “The 70s and 80s are music history, we’re pioneers of a god damn genre. We’re making a whole way for kids who are like us.”

“And that’s supposed to make you special? Like you’re a social pariah?” she asked, getting in his face.

“You wanna be a social pariah?” she continued, “Try being Larry fucking Kramer! Go fucking stand for something instead of telling me my music sucks and selling drugs to other fucking losers. You’re not making any fucking change .”

“You just don’t get it,” he said quietly, “You don’t even like metal.”  

“What about it do I not get?” she asked, crossing her arms tighter across her chest, “You’re a bunch of kids who were weird in high school that grew up to be alcoholics who still aren’t over the cheer captain not liking them – PEAK conformity! I mean are you kidding? Just a bunch of kids who were too pussy to be punk. You sound like a fuckin' John Hughes movie.”

Eddie swallowed, his ears ringing a little, 'Still not over the cheer captain not liking them…’ The sound of Chrissy’s bones cracking sounded in the distance, visions of her blood on the trailer ceiling flashed behind his eyes.

He looked at her, brows furrowed, but not angrily. Almost like he was contemplating what to say. He picked his jacket up off the bar and slipped it on, zipping up the leather and buttoning the vest in silence. He could feel Rhonda staring him down, he lifted his gaze to her across the room.

“You really got me all figured out, huh?” Eddie’s voice was measured. He walked to the door and unlocked it, snow trickled in onto the floor mats as it opened.

Rhonda walked back over to the bartop and started flipping one of the stools onto the counter, “Looks like it. What, was her name like…Betty ‘Apple Pie’ Cunningham or something?” she snorted.

“You know what, Ron?,” he asked, a pained smile brandished his face while he gripped the door pull, “Fuck you.”

Eddie walked out the door and slammed it behind him, shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back toward the train in the snow.

#EDDIE MUNSON SMUT #EDDIE MUNSON FAN FICTION #EDDIE MUNSON FANFICTION #EDDIE MUNSON AU #EDDIE MUNSON X OFC #EDDIE MUNSON FLUFF #EDDIE MUNSON ANGST #EDDIE MUNSON #STRANGER THINGS AU #EDDIE MUNSON FIX IT FIC #EDDIE MUNSON FIX IT #STRANGER THINGS FAN FICTION #STRANGER THINGS FANFICTION #EDDIE MUNSON X READER #EDDIE MUNSON X YOU

[bunnywritesmarvel]

Tips for Writing a Gender Neutral Reader

ive seen a recent influx of fics in various fandoms claiming their fics to be "gender neutral!reader," only to start reading and see repeated gendered terminology/pronouns used. heres a (hopefully) helpful little post to curb that and help people be able to make true gender neutral/inclusive fics.

lets start with this; no one is telling you all your fics have to be gender neutral. this is for the people who want their fics to be gn, or people that are claiming their fics to be gn but still include gendered terms and want to fix it.

1. first, lets talk about content warnings/tags/fic descriptions. these are a great way to let your reader know what theyre getting into before they get too far into it and realize theyre wasting their time.

please use these! no one is telling you not to write a white reader, no one is telling you not to write a short reader, no one is telling you not to write a skinny blue-eyed blonde-haired reader, just use warnings and tags!! nothing will make me stop reading a reader insert fic faster than a physically descriptive word that doesnt describe me. it immediately takes me out of the experience.

warnings such as 'white!reader' or 'short!reader' or 'AMAB!reader' are great to get the general point across. in the description of the fic, i encourage you to go into more detail. 'they/them pronouns used. AMAB genitalia descriptions used.' great, i can tell its written with a reader with a dick in mind. i dont have that, so i wont relate to the fic and therefore wont enjoy it personally. will i reblog it to help other readers who will relate find it? abso-fuckin-lutely, you bet your ass i will. writers support writers, right?

tags and warnings also pertain to any kind of explicit/violent content! if your fic includes hard kinks, even softer kinks, or any kind of violence please put warnings down! this could potentially be triggering to some people and putting these types of warnings will greatly reduce the risk of potentially triggering someone who is sensitive to those certain things, but thats an entirely different topic.

2. now lets talk about physical descriptions. we'll cover the basics of hair, skin tone, genitalia, height, and weight, and touch on the tagging subject a little bit more.

avoid hair descriptors! i have straight, medium-length hair. i wont relate to a reader described as having short, curly hair. some people have no hair, surprise surprise! focus on the face, not the hair. “he cupped their cheek” instead of “she ran her fingers through their hair.” people with extremely kinky or curly hair wont be able to relate to that.

you can usually pretty easily avoid skin tone descriptors. but blushing is different! you cant really see (as far as my knowledge goes) blushing on darker skin tones. focus more on heat factors! “heat rose their cheeks,” “their face grew warm,” “they felt their cheek heat up,” etc etc. i personally use the word “flushed” a lot, e.g. “their face flushed.”

now lets go to the genitalia aspect. this will just circle back to the warning and tags. if you’re writing smut and need to use descriptors for genitalia, just make sure you put the assigned sex at birth in the warning! AMAB (assigned male at birth) and AFAB (assigned female at birth) go a long way in helping trans readers avoid sudden dysphoria when reading smut fics, especially if youre writing with a trans reader in mind. tags such as “transmasc afab” or “transfem amab” go a really long way!

theres also plenty of gender neutral anatomy terms. for example, opt for chest instead of breast, or just focus on the nipples!

height!! again, just circles back to the tags, but avoiding phrases such as “they looked up at him” or “you peered down into his eyes” help avoid attaching a height to the reader. “tall!reader” or “short!reader” are great if the fic is mainly focused on that. but just throwing in a “reader is briefly described as shorter than (insert character)” could be helpful!

weight! i know i know, the “he picked me up and spun me around” tropes are so cute, but fat people exist! some people just dont like to be picked up and some people are heavy and thats okay! maybe just opt for the big tight im-never-gonna-let-you-go-again-ever-in-the-history-of-the-world hug, i promise it will still get the point across.

i personally, love to throw some manhandling in my smut fics. im small, so i find it hot if someone can throw me around and move me where they want. this just, again, circles back to adding the proper warnings. just throw ‘manhandling’ or whatever else into the description and let any potential readers decide if theyre into it or not. if its one line, just say ‘brief manhandling’ and some people may be able to just skip over the line or ignore it and not let it ruin the immersive experience. ive read plenty of fics i absolutely adore, and theres one teeny tiny line that doesnt describe me and i have no issue moving on and not letting it pull me out of the fic.

thats all that i can think of off the top of my head! thanks to anyone who read all of it, and anyone more equipped to talk about this subject, please feel free to chime in, add some more tips, or correct me on anything i got wrong!!

please reblog to spread the word! id love to start seeing more inclusive fics for everyone to enjoy!

tagging some people, let me know if youd like to be removed: @phoebe-danvers @murrdxcks @murdicks @waspswidows @h-llfire @matt-erialgirl @wannabemurdock @thirstybitchs @alilfreakydeaky @sobachka-korol

#bunnys writing tips #writing advice #bunny talks

[aguineapigcouldntdothis]

this is so long please read if it interests you and skip if it doesnt i genuinely just couldnt stop thinking of things to add.

i used to wonder why antisemites would constantly make up criticisms about zionism that are either blatantly false or a misunderstanding of facts. especially when jewish antizionists have consistently been able to find real criticisms of zionism and analyze them based on jewish history and personal experience (tbh i dont consider any goyim to be antizionist or zionist but that's not the point). it's definitely not a problem of "valid criticisms of zionism dont exist". even when i dont agree with jewish antizionists i usually understand how they got to their conclusion and i find it fully respectable. also when i say factual/valid criticisms i dont just mean shit i personally agree with. im a zionist with plenty of criticisms about the movement (yeah I know it's ironic). all i mean by that is a criticism of zionism that is backed up by facts.

imo antisemites either explicitly or implicitly know that if they look up factual criticisms of zionism they'll also have to learn about the positive stuff. it's all intertwined. to a lot of jewish people this isnt that big of a deal. we're raised to ask questions and we're taught how to formulate a good argument from a young age. its pretty normal for us to critique things that we generally support or find postives in things we generally critique. however, goyim are much less likely to be raised this way. obviously some are but the dichotomy of good and bad is much more prevalent in goyische culture than jewish. of course we know some shit is good and other shit is bad, we're not fuckin idiots, but nuance is integral to us.

i dont know what it feels like to be raised in a culture with a strong difference between good and bad. it doesnt make sense to me at all. however id assume that that upbringing combined with social media, which favors quick, shocking information, would result in something like goyim constantly glazing over factual critcisms of zionism and just making shit up. the made up shit is simultaneously more gut-wrenching and easier to digest due to its simplicity. it's really fucking hard to accept that zionism is so complex if youve been taught that things are always just good or bad. and even harder if your activism began and ended with social media instead of a medium that favors long-form content.

you cannot research zionism without being whacked in the face with nuance. its the reason i research zionist history more than zionist theory because that shit is so confusing sometimes (said with love). learning about zionism isn't an easy task at all. ive been doing it seriously for around 5 years and casually since i was a small child and i still learn shit every day. if i studied zionism for hours every day id probably still have something to learn when i die.

antisemites do not like being called antisemites, so they try to learn things about jewish history and then fail. they dont actually care about the information they just want to seem like they know something. they are not doing this for the benefit of jewish people. they wont actually spread true jewish history or recommend jewish creators that could share correct information. they'll instead say bare minimum shit that makes themselves feel proud for saying the word "jewish" and their followers are making death threats towards zionists.

ive seen some goyim say some factual things about zionism and stay in their lane while doing so, both things i rlly appreciate. and time and time again they're met with antisemitic conspiracies, death threats, doxxing, etc. not as much as jewish people are but still a lot. most people are not ready and may never be ready to support jews through the good and the bad.

this ties into the idea of the "innocent" victim. the one who is pure and kind, who never said a bad word about anyone and saved baby mice from fires. this idea of the innocent victim exists in war, abuse, crime, literally anywhere where someone's human rights are violated. however even if someone is innocent in a particular situation most people are not 100% good and innocent all the time. there's a few exceptions like babies (although i do know some babies that are fucking assholes) but in general people are a mix of good and bad.

jewish people do not shy away from being both good and bad. we embrace it with open arms and even though we try to improve our bad traits we dont fear them. "the only good jew is a dead jew" is fitting because when someone is dead you can make so much up. you can pretend they were incapable of every doing anything even remotely bad. you can say the poor jew who died was your biggest inspiration even though you scoffed at them every time they opened their mouth.

and this is why antisemites hate zionism so much and love making up false critcisms. because it throws concepts like black and white morality, the desire to consume information quickly, and the innocent victim into the fucking mud. then it punches it and steps on it and kicks it. anything and anyone that favors simple information over complicated information, not matter how incorrect, is going to have a hard time discussing zionism. people want to know things, yet sometimes they dont wanna actually put in the work to learn the correct information from good sources because that's hard work and antisemites do not want to put in hard work regarding jewish history.

if you believe im gonna solve antisemitism singlehandedly then who the fuck do you think i am. this isnt going away anytime soon. however you can do shit to help. study zionism on your own time and develop your own opinions on it. i highly recommend focusing on 1-3 specific topics trust me it's really confusing otherwise. teach others about it when you feel safe to do so. share resources with them and encourage them to do their own research. maybe point them to a specific aspect that relates to an interest they already have, and if you're mentally able to handle it call out antisemitic misinformation. a lot of people will not listen but there will always be at least one person who just needs a little bit of help starting.

anyway i may do actual research on this in the future because observations and i might turn it into a proper essay. I'll write one version where i say fuck and another where I don't.

#jumblr #jewish #holy shit there's even antisemitic shit when i try to tag zionism #yet again my point is proven

[scolek]

@tunkus you ready to have your mind blown?

alright, so first off ive been aware of akira since before enstars, he wrote a light novel series called "kyouran kazoku nikki" which got turned into an anime and i saw it and remembered it fondly. its one of those "crack" type things like flcl or nchijou but with a really strong emotional core, like, the government assigns them all to be family but then they find it again on their own. i recommend it! i know the anime is subbed.

oh but theres a trans character in it! it's from like 15 years ago so its not. its not a great portrayal. but you can basically draw a direct thru line from that to early arashi who was very clearly supposed to be the same type of person, and then from early arashi to modern arashi as we move into an era where its not fucking acceptable to say the o word so goddamn much. progress!

so what i found out about. i was on akira's wikipedia page and because i read at a second grade level my eyes are often drawn to any snippets of hiragana/katakana i find and i see the phrase センス・オブ・ジェンダー (sense of gender) and its another wikipedia page so i click on it, and then that page, unlike akiras, has a version in english so theres this award for literary works that deal with themes of sex and gender, and akira wrote a novel called 'biscuit frankenstein' that won the grand prize in 2009.

so im like, ok, what the fuck is biscuit frankenstein, and its never been translated into english, but there is a review of it in english.

and THEN, in that review, it mentions another novel akira wrote called ikemen kanojo, and theres even less about that one than there is about biscuit frankenstein, especially since theres some fucking isekai or whatever novel out there with kind of the same name, but from the name ikemen kanojo alone its like.

AND THATS AS FAR DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE AS I'VE GOTTEN BUT THERE COULD BE MORE!!! THERE PROBABLY IS BECAUSE IT APPEARS AKIRA HAS A COMPULSION TO TRANS CHARACTERS' GENDERS.

like you know how serial killers can only go a certain time without killing, and usually the more they kill the shorter that window gets. the time between shu's grandpa and hokke was like, barely four months!!! if this guy were a serial killer i'd be like somebody please stop him, he cant keep getting away with this, but honestly. imagine youre like 9 years into a successful franchise and you go. hey you know one of the main fucking characters??? that dude's been trans the whole time. yup. fuckin afab. and then you just, dont explain???? thats legendary and we need to keep letting akira do whatever he wants.

#dream on stupids #enstars

[abyssalpriest]

A mostly personal diary entry but stems from talking w Lev

nsft + SA mention but the majority of it isnt about that. Under read more for length

I was talking to Lev last night about energy, specifically we were talking about. well. the fact that hes one of like two people including spirits now I can be physically near without wanting to throw up with fear for Trauma Reasons, and we were figuring out how to talk about sexual things without me having a, you know, meltdown because it was a Night. The suggestion came up where i think it was him who asked to speak about it through energy, basically both of us were trying to understand what the hell it is i need when im having A Time...

The exact context of it being sexual things is relevant context to me saying he specifically had this dome of distance between the energy he was speaking through and me, which in itself i think is energy (absence is an energy), but either way he was very specifically projecting "im not touching you and you can see where my energy/words are at all times in case I betray that trust, you will know", which left the conversation as like.. This sort of inverted snowglobe type thing where I was watching day-blue swirling energy above me. I wont go into what was communicated mostly because I was actually outside my body in the astral while he was possessing my body, so its hard to remember I mean, but.

It was really interesting, honestly, the whole discussion i mean including post-talking-through-energy. Mostly for the personal reasons of... Holy shit, Im right when i say "i work with and understand and love energy more than anything else". I felt like I could finally just understand what he was saying, i felt what it must feel like to not be fuckin Autistic because it wasn't just hollow words and expressions that make everything sound and feel like everyone hates me, doesnt want to be around me, etc. I didnt have to ask for clarifications for every damn thing of "do you mean that?" "did i do something wrong?" "are you mad at me?" because the conversation actually Felt like something. I felt like i was hearing something and not just having to react to ordered words. I could feel that we werent just talking but communicating, I could hear him, it was like ive been living in black and white and suddenly i was seeing the whole "colours" thing everyone talks about - not overwhelming, not new, just clear, full, like the very rare times once a year i stop dissociating and its not hyperreal its just Real.

I really struggle a lot with being incarnated because this world is so black and white, like lines on an architect's paper insinuating buildings as opposed to actually being 3D buildings, people are so linear, its... Very disorienting and... Im not going to say borderline-violating because I have to recognise im having a lot of difficulties atm seeing any sort of being near me or looking at or interacting w me as being uhhhhhhhh violating, i know thats just a trauma reaction to actual violation, but its very oppressive, ill say, to constantly have the world being so sticky, still, sedated-body-esque in how slow and unresponsive it is to my natural movement. Its like im either sedated moving through nothingness, or its oppressively unchanging, the presence and physicality and touch of the laws of physics here are just maddening. This plane is fucking weird. I often think though that im the problem, that im just insane ie it must just be part n parcel of being schizotypal, that i need to "get over myself" and just "accept" that im human and im not actually out of place i just want to be, because i keep wanting it to be that easy. I keep thinking its just i want to be somewhere else and therefore i feel alien so i should just learn to love being here and ill feel "normal", or i feel alien and therefore i want to be somewhere else so when i fit in ill "get over it", but no, listening to Leviathan talking to me like that, i didnt feel like i was fulfilling a wish IE making myself Feel like it was natural because i want to be Special, or "becoming" something different, i just felt like I finally was being interacted with. I felt like i used to feel meeting other australians where i was like "holy shit, we are real? im not just 'different' and 'bad at being irish' but 'australian living overseas'?" Its not that i need to interact with things and so i go off trying to find something fun to interact with, its that this plane doesnt speak my language, humans dont speak my language, etc, i DONT get interacted with not because im not trying hard enough to be present, but because im autistic, schizotypal, and those amplify my 'psychic' for lack of a better term abilities which just.... No, im not being a pain in the ass, selfish, purposely putting myself out of place bc i want attention. I actually AM right when i say i understand energy more than reality - for this and many other reasons.

Ive just been extremely lonely this lifetime for a lot of reasons even when spirits are right there speaking to me, the people I understand most, but the thing is im only recently after getting autism in my head as relevant to me after a life of thinking I wasnt on the spectrum... Of course i need to say im not giving up on this world, but understanding its not my fault and that there ARE things that CAN communicate with me really helps me start to understand how to actually find what i need. Im so sick of trying to fit in with this plane, so sick of pretending to be something that I am only because of outer physical appearance I have no control over and isnt an expression of my conscious mind/self, but getting confirmation its biologically in-built into me to be out of place here and not just a Skill Issue actually helps me because now i know how to start getting what i need. Im tenacious, I can live a thousand years in exile here if i know how to work my environment, but i have been at its unforgiving whims for so damn long now thinking I just deserved to be hated (instead of thinking maybe people dont hate me they just cant communicate that with me) and i shouldnt be here (instead of maybe I'm just carrying a lot of my unincarnated selves' connection to their planes) and ill never connect with anyone (instead of understanding i need to be communicated with in a certain way, and since i dont have a drive to have a community or many friends i can absolutely thrive with only getting this communication from a few people and just Playing Human with the rest)

Anyway. it dived into talking briefly about energy itself... Im still not at the stage of being taught yet where I could give actual thoughts with this, but he mentioned before how on the cross ("+") model of reality, Mental on the left, Material on the right, Reality is that middle vertical line... well one part as we see it (so when you look around physically, thats mostly experienced reality we'll say for lack of a term) is on the middle line (vaguely placed since what we see as this "reality" is multiple things) along with the energetic reality...? And he said before that energy is... subjective? Cant remember the details sorry. When I type these things up i get actual quotes and reference actual notes, this isnt official, but the way he was saying it was effectively "nope, energy is entirely subjective" even when i was like "hold on, but when people see things like 'the energy of the moon', i know they have different opinions on what theyre feeling but they still feel that something is there even if they disagree what it is"... Effectively what was brought up in the conversation was that energy is like language, specifically in regards to something I said in the notes on this post here about how humans arent meant to be seen as just flesh, language is used as natural skin or decoration - hence energy being a natural form of communication of the world makes that sentiment make sense... Humans and pretty much all beings use something as a medium between Mental and Physical to communicate whether its body language, writing, etc, or more so really what im saying is that the intermediary between Mental and Material is communication. like. reality frequently is described as language by both Lev and Hermes (and they dont agree on everything and the things they have resonant opinions on are often either spoken about in different terms or symbolism or have different perspectives), and so im like oh energy is another language of existence? but with the 'purpose' so to speak of communicating? Or being the medium of communication? which i guess now that i say that im reaaalllly understanding why i know im not ready to talk about this, that doesnt make sense, all reality is about communicating... but i definitely have another piece of the puzzle that when i put it together ill have an ACTUAL picture

#god im. trying so hard to mention sex is a thing that exists lmfao. for every 1 mention of it theres hours of.... yeah i dont need to #spell out trauma based sex repulsion but anyway hes helping me with it so i am trying to meet him halfway with regards to effort put in #and sometimes i just have to put on big boy pants and write the word to prove the words not going to leap out and bite my throat #ramblings // #diary //

[goblinrockcandy]

hey guys im BACK baby and i have some words

here are links so you can still find everything, but be wary that these links are probably gonna break any minute when i start moving everything around. lets hope i can remember to fix them and that i dont take a year to get to doing that: ARCHIVE    MY ART    OTHER ORGANIZATION TAGS

IM STILL ALIVE. i like to think that i never rlly left, but I havent posted in a damn while and part of that is because life stuff caught up with me and moreso because uhhhhhh Well im not quite satisfied with the way my blogs formatted right now, it makes posting and organizing and navigating harder than it has to be and it makes it Not Fun to post things.

SO. what we're gonna do is revamp things a lil bit. we're fucking doing this we are Making It Happen. what this'll do is itll make it easier for me to post things without having to remember every silly tag and rule i have set up here, and ill also just have a bit more of a laid-back and fun kinda art blog. i tried to do an elaborate tagging system, but MAN i am too forgetful for that.

so im just gonna keep it simple. character, fandom, content warnings, and maybe some other flavourtags. the sorts of things thatll make it easier for me to just pop up a quick drawing on even a busy day without having to go through a silly step by step process on how to tag things. because i love sharing my art and posting :)) but not so much when it is difficult </3

but hell who knows how thisll go after i reboot my bloggo. i think she was due for some maintenance for a long while. *pats the sidebar like you would soothe an agitated horse* there there girl, its gonna be alright. maybe ill even start making... casual posts? text posts? things like that??? damn Maybe.

im also gonna private some organization posts until i can properly wrangle then and sort out their kinks and oddities, and im gonna disable my blog theme for a bit. when i get a braincell on how to do an html and a css properly, THEN i can have a pretty theme. in the meantime, ill probably just set myself up with one of the tumblr defaults.

anyways. *ahem* for anyone who doesnt know me and this is their first stumble upon my blog while i move things around. feel free to click the read more if you want to subject yourself to the silliest introduction i could make for myself possible.

hi. i like to draw but lately my art skills have been a bit shakey, i think im out of practice so im probably gonna start out doing some studies. my styles and designs for characters are always changing, but lately ive been trying to cement some designs that are in my brain Onto Paper.

im goblinrockcandy but you can call me GRC if that's a mouthful (thats what i call me because i do not have time for 5 syllables). im a Knight of Heart and sometimes that gets shortened to KoH and so sometimes people call me koh. now KOH is also the chemical formula for potassium hydroxide, but no one calls me that (a real shame, it flows right off the tongue and i think its a lovely set of sounds), but potassium hydroxide also goes by another name and that is lye. so sometimes people call me lye. i don't have a name so if you want to refer to me you have to get creative or pick up my blog by the scruff of its handle like a really ugly cat and point at it and say "this motherfucker right here".

same goes for pronouns. my pronouns are none/applicable. you gotta BE CREATIVE if you want to refer to me... pronouns are a crutch. they were your training wheels and now im the final boss. you have to fight me with your other words, this is what you have been training for.......

im trans queer person of colour, painfully unfunny and addicted to bad jokes, and i love homestuck. my faves switch up every once in a blood moon but right now i really fuckin love jake english. you might have discerned that by the very subtle hints of I talk about Him all the time & dirt striber avatar.

#announcement #intro post

[cyanlastride]

so sleep is like. something i dont do at the moment. which is fun.

suddenly obsessed with the idea that this isnt how i talk. that ive changed. i dont remember how to be the person i was. i dont mind, im just worried that the relationships i made when i was that person wont work now that im this person. but the relationships ive made recently dont fucking work and the old one still works better than the new one who honestly who gives a fuck. not me. there it is again, thats not my voice. if people who draw have notebooks and sketches and artwork from years and years and days and moments and emotions and i have nothing where does that leave me. i only decided to pivot into writing after fucking up the math. i guess thats what im left with. problem solving brain. thats terrible at coming up with and implementing new solutions to old problems and doesnt even remember what its tried before, or when it does is too apathetic to its own survival to act. i dont really mind though. im tired. i want to sleep but im afraid to be still. doing nothing. thats what i hate. doing nothing. ive written this all without timing indicators, probably terrible to read. no breaks, no pauses. i hate christmas. i never stated that before this year, but i think its been true for a while. christmas fuckin sucks, dude. my voice is all jumbled up. switches too quickly, without my notice. i dont think anyone should read this. i dont even need help right now, im doing fine. i actually feel pretty good, which is only concerning because of the no sleep thing. but maybe this is my art. this long scrambled franked fucked up act of creation all i can muster, all i have to contribute to the world that really matters. in this moment, thats true. although earlier today i did finish that essay, and im pretty proud of that. but even essays tell stories. sometimes i want to write without telling a story. maybe thats what this is. word goop that not even i can predict. left, right, forward, upsidedown. does it contain meaning? not intentionally. but its all true. in the way that thoughts with little to no time spent deliberating over them are true, which is to say that they exist and were felt at some point if just for a moment. stories have endings. this will have a stop. so i declareth. is it close, or is it far? you already know. in fact, you know more than i do. isnt that strange? to communicate is to learn, yet practically speaking the reader always knows more about the world as it exists to them than the teacher. thats a neat little thought. tuck it away somewhere cozy. it cant stay with me. i sleep on the floor.

[bastardsofravenkroft-blog]

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READ AND LIKE BEFORE YOU FOLLOW THIS BLOG.

last update: 6/16/22

Aura/Poison/Rose

born early ‘00s

Agender they/them/ae/aer/any neutral pronouns

Panromantic

Neurodivergent

Sometimes I sit still long enough to write something.

My current hyperfixation/special interests are My Chemical Romance/Gerard Way/Fabulous Killjoys.

KEEP READING

BLOG WARNINGS:

I occasionally talk about my intrusive thoughts, sh, gender/species dysphoria, my mental health struggles, and that im neurodivergent etc, but i always tag appropriately (ask for more tags, its fine).

I use the word queer. Don’t like it, don’t interact. I use the word as a description for myself.

I am a cringy ass teenager, thats not gonna fuckin change.

Curses and all caps used.

TRIGGERS:

No major ones, but please give warning before discussing: Sewerslide, sh, derealization, intrusive thoughts, eds, ex: idolization of extremely skinny bodies

DO NOT INTERACT:

TERFs/“Radical feminists”/“Gender critical” fuck off.

“Not into politics”. The only time this is okay is if it’s a “I don’t yet know enough to have an opinion.” If you’re saying you don’t have an opinion, you’re conservative and realized that doesn’t get you laid. 

Conservatives. 

Trump supporters.

Eating disorder specific blogs. (not personal, its a minor trigger.)

Sewerslide idolization blogs.

Queer as a choice. (its not, get fucked)

Racists, queerphobes, ableists, you get the fucking idea

LINDSEY WAY SUPPORTERS/MSI LISTENERS. ZERO TOLERANCE, NOT SAFE SPACE.

DO NO HESITATE TO LET ME KNOW IF IVE INVALIDATED YOUR BLOG BY MISTAKE. YOUR SAFTEY OVER A STRANGER’S COMFORT.

My writing masterlist!

requests are open, either through dm’s, asks, or discord (all below in carrd) if you attempt to email me you probably won’t hear back for at least a week, as I consistently forget it exists.

Carrd

Previous hyperfixations/special interests:

Marvel/MCU, Harry Potter, Taylor Swift, traditional art

Other interests: 

Doctor Who, Good Omens, The Umbrella Academy, The Magnus Archives, Percy Jackson, fashion, Tudor Era, WWII, music, art, crochet, embroidery, aesthetics, subculture/counterculture

Blog Tags:

w i p

Other information:

Queer. Very queer. 

Likes books. 

Fanfiction is more than valid.

Acts like I’ve had too much coffee 24/7.

I don’t experience gender in the same way lots of other people do, so I’d like to be respected there. Lots of people have a connection to their gender and can find a place within that, and I’m happy for you but I don’t understand it and it doesn’t work for me. (Yes, I tag some things as gender or gender envy, but that’s pretty much me wanting every speck of my existence to encompass that picture or word or whatever.) For terms to use and not use see here.

Please please please do not refer to me as girl, even when used as slang it usually makes me pretty uncomfortable.

I do curse and usually don’t bleep it out. 

You can dm me at any time, I will be awkward because I am just awkward.  Ask for tags added to posts, including like all caps, cursing etc

Ask box is always open, anon is always on. Feel free to tag me in shit <3 Avid defendant of the Vampire mode/color scheme.

Ex-urls are in tags

Gerard Way enthusiast

Cherri Cola and Milo Thatch stan

Finally, prepz dni. (complete joke, lifted from my immortal, that harry potter fanfic.)

*will be added to as I see fit.

**please lmk if any links are broken :)

#navigation #read before interacting #read before following #queerlikeregulus #mortalevermore #gazeintotheirkillingjar #poisonrose #bastardsofravenkroft

[a-dragons-journal]

i dont "kin for fun" but through tiktok i found out about the whole kin for fun vs actual otherkin... situation ig? im having a really hard time taking it seriously... maybe im just burnt out and bitter from dealing with the worlds current events, and maybe its because on tiktok the only people i saw mad about it were white people, but you're the most reasonable person ive seen talking about it (a lot of other posts have this odd tone that 12 year olds on tiktok saying kin is the worlds greatest opression and it weirds me out) so ig my question is just... why exactly does this matter? why does it matter enough to post about and care about and not just ignore? /gen

Hey! I don’t blame you for being a bit weirded out by it, we’re a weird subculture and we’re well aware of it! xD I appreciate you taking the time to actually look into it past your first knee-jerk reaction, especially considering burnout and the state of things.

I’m not totally sure if you’re asking why otherkinity matters or why the “kin for fun” being wrong matters, so I’ll answer both - they’re pretty well tied together anyway.

The short version:

Otherkinity is an identity. It’s who we are, we can’t choose to pick it up or put it down, and it comes with struggles - though no, ‘kin are not systematically oppressed (though we are pretty badly bullied and, at this point, pushed out of our own words and spaces).

What people calling roleplay/relating to/projecting onto characters “kinning for fun” does is steal our words, make them meaningless, and in doing so, make it difficult or impossible for us to find each other. If someone says “I kin [x],” I no longer know whether they mean “I am [x] on an intrinsic level” or “haha I relate to this character a lot”. I no longer know whether they actually share my experiences or if they’re going to turn on me and call me “crazy” as soon as they realize I’m not exaggerating or joking or roleplaying. It’s done massive harm to the community as a whole because it’s become difficult to tell whether someone is actually ‘kin or if they’ve misunderstood the whole thing - and because antikin rhetoric, which I’m seeing more and more in KFF spaces, hurts far more when it’s coming from inside what you thought was a community space than when it’s coming from self-labeled “antikin.”

There are other words for roleplaying and relating to and projecting onto characters. Hell, there are words for strongly identifying with-but-not-as characters/things, though usually KFF people don’t even seem serious enough for those to fit in my experience. I’m really not sure why these people are so determined to steal and misuse our words, words that were specifically created to mean something else, when they already have their own and are just refusing to use them. (Or, hell, if you don’t feel like those fit, make your own. We did. It’s your turn to put in the work. (General you, not you-the-anon, of course.))

An analogy, if that still doesn’t quite land for you:

Consider, for a moment, the transgender community. I am aware this is a dangerous thing to say, but bear with me. Obvious CW for hypothetical transphobia up ahead is obvious.

Consider if you were part of the trans community (I don’t know if you are or not), having finally found a word to explain why you feel the way you do about yourself, why your experiences don’t seem to match up with those of everyone else around you. Having found a community, a home, full of other people like you, people you never would have met if not for words like “transgender” and “gender dysphoria/euphoria” that were created specifically to describe your experiences.

Now consider if people suddenly stumbled across your community for the first time who were not trans themselves. They see community jokes and lighthearted posts out of context, because Tumblr and Twitter aren’t exactly conducive to making sure people find the Transgender 101 information posts first. They don’t bother to do further research, assuming they understand: ah, these people like to crossdress! They like to pretend they’re a different gender! This seems like a fun hobby, I want in!

They begin to post things like this. They post photos of them crossdressing and caption them “hi, I’m [name], and I trans men!” and things of the like. Suddenly the concept of “transing for fun” seems to be everywhere - and it’s not at all what being trans actually is, but these people either don’t know or don’t care. When actual trans people try to politely correct them, they’re accused of “gatekeeping” - and to be clear, this is not “nonbinary people aren’t real,” it’s “transgender means you identify as a gender other than the one you were assigned at birth, and you’re self-identifying as the gender you were assigned at birth 100% and telling us this is just a fun hobby for you, therefore you’re not trans, you’re crossdressing or doing drag or being GNC. That’s fine, but it’s not being trans - you have other words to describe that, use those.”

(Yes, I am aware these things have a history with the trans community - please just ignore that for the sake of the analogy and bear with me on the slightly simplified version of this. “Kinning for fun” does not have that same history with the otherkin community.)

...And then the response to those attempted corrections, in some corners, turns into “wait, you ACTUALLY think you’re another gender? idk that sounds pretty unhealthy, maybe you should see a psychologist or something :\” and “you’re taking this too seriously.”

I imagine, in this hypothetical scenario, you’d also be pretty fuckin peeved.

(Obviously, in this hypothetical scenario, systematic transphobia would be an issue as well, which isn’t the case for otherkin - again, you’re gonna have to bear with me on the simplification for sake of analogy there.)

(EDIT: this is not an anti-MOGAI/exclusionist argument, this is “you’re literally telling me you don’t fit the definition,” explanation on that here)

The long version, which is probably still worth reading if you have the time and energy:

Otherkinity is... pretty core to who I am, who we as a group of individuals are. We live with being otherkin on a daily basis. Many of us spent a long time feeling different and disconnected and not understanding why until we found the otherkin community. Even people like me, who don’t share that experience and still had social connection - I’ve still had to live with weird differences that I had to learn to mask when necessary; instincts that don’t line up with human society well, feeling body parts that weren’t there and that no one else ever seemed to have, things that other kids grew out of because it was just make-believe for them and I... didn’t, because it was never make-believe for me to begin with. Oh, sure, I played make-believe too - I played warrior cats and house and all those things with the other kids, but there were things that weren’t play-pretend for me too. I didn’t have an explanation for it for a long time - it was just how I was, I was weird, and fortunately for me personally I was okay with that (many of those with species dysphoria or more trouble connecting with humans have more problems from that than I did).

And then I found the word “otherkin.” And suddenly everything fell into place, and I had an explanation for the things I’d been experiencing, and there were other people like me. Something I’d assumed didn’t exist. I found others who shared my unique experiences, who were talking about how to cope with the instinct to growl or snap jaws at people instead of expressing annoyance in a human way instead of just saying “that’s weird, don’t do that”, who were talking about dealing with phantom wings and tails, who understood me. I wasn’t weird, I wasn’t broken, I was exactly what one would expect from a dragon living in human skin. I found an explanation for myself. I found a home.

That is why otherkinity matters - it is who we are, it’s not something we can walk away from (certainly not most of us, anyway), and it’s something many of us need the support of the community to help deal with on a daily basis. Being a nonhuman in human society isn’t always easy, but it’s not something we can just magically stop being - it’s core to who we are, we (generally) didn’t choose to be this way, and we (generally) can’t choose to stop. Which is fine - the vast majority of us can cope with it just fine, with a little advice and help and space to be our authentic selves in. We found each other, we built this community from the ground up to make a space and words to make finding each other easier - or possible at all.

Thus we come to the second half of our story.

It was only a couple of years ago that the “kin for fun” trend started getting big. It had existed before that, of course, but it only started going mainstream two, maybe three years ago, from what I can tell. Suddenly people were treating “kin” like it meant relating to, projecting onto, roleplaying as, or just really really liking a character or thing - not being that thing, which is what it actually means. Not long after that, it became hard to tell whether someone saying “I kin this” meant they were that thing, that they were actually part of our community - or that they really really liked that thing and either didn’t know or couldn’t be bothered to learn that that wasn’t the case for us.

Not long after that, it became relatively commonplace to hear phrases like “otherkin are ruining kinning!!” and “you’re taking this too seriously” and “idk, if it’s that serious for you that sounds unhealthy. maybe you should get some help :\” (all directly quoted, or as exactly quoted as I can remember, from things KFF people have said to me or people I know).

It is a special kind of hell, I think, to be told “you’re taking this too seriously, that’s unhealthy” by people who are taking words created to describe your experiences, not theirs, and misusing them to mean something that you do for fun on a weekend instead of something that’s intrinsic to your being.

Perhaps more importantly, like I’ve said, it’s making it almost impossible to know whether someone who says “I kin [x]” is actually ‘kin or if they’re misusing our words to mean something else entirely. The entire point of words is to communicate ideas, and once you start misusing words to mean something totally different than what they actually mean, that communication falls apart and suddenly we might as well not have those words at all. Especially when the community is small enough and obscure enough that we’re starting to be outnumbered by the misinformation. We’re being run out of our own words, words we created to describe our experiences specifically - because we’re a small community that the wider internet can easily drown out by sheer numbers of people who either don’t know any better or don’t care to learn.

That’s the harm it does - the harm it is doing, right now. That’s why it’s important enough to post about. That’s why it matters - because we’re fighting desperately to hang onto our own words so that others like us can actually find us. Because we’re seeing young nonhumans go “this isn’t a kin, I actually am this” and screaming “No, I’m so sorry that this is what the misinformation has done to you, that’s exactly what otherkin means, you have a place here, please don’t let these non-’kin misusing our words drive you away from the very community you’re looking for and that you belong in.” Because we can’t even communicate effectively about our own experiences anymore except in semi-closed spaces like Discord servers and forums (and the number of Discord servers overrun with KFF people is absurd).

......This got very long. Hopefully it at least explained why it matters so much to me and others a bit better ^^; Thanks for hearing me out, and thank you again for looking into this beyond your initial knee-jerk reaction - I really do appreciate it.

(For further reading, if that text wall didn’t blow you out of the water completely, I recommend my “kin for fun” tag, which has more posts like this in both short and long form.)

#probably should've put this under a cut but oh well #otherkin #kin for fun #kinnie #kinning #rani talks #asked and answered #anonymous #rani talks A LOT apparently sbfldkngjlksdf #i have a lot of feelings on this #long post

[hangovercurse]

Nothing

Part i of the Without You series: When Colson and Megan break up, the boys count on Y/N to piece Colson back together, which only leads to disaster.

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Colson being kind of a dick, cursing, a little bit of aggression/ violence. This one’s definitely angsty.

A/N: This was supposed to be just a one part fic. Then that turned into 2 parts. And then 3. And then all of a sudden I had written 5 parts and over 10,000 words. Enjoy 😊 (also this is v unedited so if you see a mistake... mind ya business)

Word Count: 2084

| ii | iii | iv | v | vi |

masterlist

When you got the text from Rook, you knew it was probably gonna be bad. 

Megan just left him, for good. Not gonna be pretty the next few days so maybe don’t come by anytime soon. 

Your heart broke for your best friend. Colson had been really in love with Megan. And as much as you hated seeing them together for your own personal reasons, you could tell he was really happy. 

Ok. Let me know if you guys need me. If it gets bad I can take Casie for a few days. Take care of him for me pls. 

You and Colson had been friends for years now. You knew almost everything about each other, you told him everything. He let you crash at his place after your ex kicked you out, and you had spent many hours curled up with him, watching stupid movies to distract him from his most recent breakup or mental breakdown. 

But this was different. Colson told you he wanted to marry her at some point, and you knew he wasn’t lying. And you couldn’t blame him. As much as you hated no longer being the only women (other than Casie) in his life, you couldn’t dislike Megan. She was just one of those people who everyone loved. 

The thought of texting Colson crossed your mind, but you weren’t sure if it would hurt or help. From the sound of it, he was a wreck.

So, naturally, you texted Pete. 

Have you talked to Cols yet?

With Colson came Pete, or came you, you weren’t really sure. Somewhere along the way you and Pete had become close friends. He was like the older brother you’d never asked for, and he would probably say something similar about you. 

You couldn’t really explain it, Pete could read you like a book. And because of that, he knew everything. He was the only one to catch on to the way you sometimes looked at Colson for too long, or got irritated when he’d bring a new girl around. 

I’m heading over there right now. You should talk to him.

You rolled your eyes.

Not sure that’s the best idea. You guys are better at handling... all that. Once he gets a little less angry then I’ll take him. 

Pete texted you back a few minutes later.

Thanks for the support, kid. I’ll keep you updated. Just pulled in.

Good luck, Petey.

You tossed your phone on your bed, a sigh leaving your lips. You decided worrying was a problem for another day.

No more than 12 hours later you were getting a phone call from Rook. 

“Dude it’s like 4 in the morning, why are you calling me.” 

“Y/N, we’ve tried everything. He’s locked up in his room and every time one of us tries to talk to him he blows up. Literally he almost punched Slim a few hours ago.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning at the predicament. “So now you want me to come over?” You asked, “What do you think I’m gonna be able to do?”

“Well he’s not gonna try and hit you for one. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s significantly nicer to you than to anyone else.”

“What do I even say to him? “Sorry that the love of your life broke up with you but at least we can smoke pot and watch Spongebob?” I mean come on, man. I’m not good at this.”

“Please.” He pleaded, “We’re all out of options and I can’t stand to see him get any worse than he is.”

You moved off your bed and towards your dresser. “Fine, I’ll be there in 15.” 

You threw on the first pair of sweatpants you could find and slipped on shoes, grabbing your key and heading out the door.

True to your word, you pulled up to the house 15 minutes later, parking on the side of the street and heading straight into the house. When the guys saw you, they visibly brightened up. 

“You guys are such fucking wimps.” You rolled your eyes as you made your way towards the stairs. 

Baze chuckled, “We love you Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and continued on your way, stopping by Casie’s room to see if she was asleep. To your surprise, she wasn’t. 

“Hey sweet girl,” you whispered as you entered her room, “why are you still up?”

She smiled a little when she saw you. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m really worried about Dad.” 

You leaned on her doorframe, sending her a sad smile. “I am too. But he’ll be okay. Your dad’s pretty tough.”

“I know,” she sighed, “but he really liked Megan.”

“Did you?” You ask, trying to gauge her emotions. 

“I mean, I guess so. She was nice to me. Most of his girlfriends aren’t that nice to me.” 

“That’s a pretty shitty way to measure if you like someone or not.” She giggles at that. “Don’t tell your dad I said that word in front of you.”

“Ok. She was nice. And she made him happy so, yeah, I guess I liked her. Not as much as I like you but...” Casie’s voice got higher as she dragged out the last word and you just rolled your eyes with a chuckle. 

Casie had this fantasy of you and Colson getting married one day, but you always told her it would never happen. 

“Ok kiddo, whatever you say.” You teased her, “try and get some sleep, okay?” 

She nodded with a smile. “Are you gonna go talk to Dad?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, okay? If you need to come over and talk or stay the night or anything just call me, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” She said quietly. 

“Love you too, Case.”

You shut the door to her room, moving down the hallway to Colson’s door. You took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, and knocked. 

“I told you guys to go the fuck away.” A muffled yet angry voice said from the opposite side of the door.

“It’s me, Cols. Y/N.” You said, hoping he could hear you. 

When you got no response you asked, “Can I come in?” 

A few more seconds of silence followed, and then the lock clicked and the door opened. You stood face-to-face with your best friend. His hair was a mess, falling in his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than ever, and the frown he wore made him look even more pathetic. You felt your heart breaking. 

As you met his eyes, you gave him a sad smile. “Hey Cols.” 

Instead of responding, he wrapped his arms around you, leaning down and resting his head on your shoulder. You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair. 

He started walking backwards, pulling you with him as he continued to hug you. One of his hands pushed the door shut and he sat on his bed, finally letting go of you. 

You looked down at him, grabbing his hand and holding it in your own. It was something you had done before, you two were very touchy people and so half of your friendship was just you two cuddling or play fighting or holding hands.

“So we can do one of three things,” you started, “We can talk about it, we can cuddle and watch something stupid and pretend nothing’s wrong, or we can get high and do something stupid.”

For the first time in what you would imagine to be all night, Colson smiled. it was a very small smile, but you took it. 

He looked up at you through his eyelashes. “And by stupid you mean...”

You rolled your eyes, “I mean we can go set off bottle rockets in the backyard or try to jump off your roof and into the pool.” 

“Oh damn. I was hoping you were gonna say you would suck my dick.” 

Your eyes widened at his bluntness and the implication. You shoved his shoulder, “Colson! That’s gross!” You giggled, but his expression was unwaveringly serious. 

“I’m being serious.” He deadpanned and you furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Colson what the fuck?” Your mind was spinning trying to figure out if he was joking. 

You got your answer when he stood up, grabbing your waist and leaning over you. “I thought you’d want to...” 

You took in a breath at the sudden proximity, trying to back away from him but his grip remaining firmly on your waist. “Colson, stop. Please. This isn’t funny.” 

You could smell the alcohol on his breath and you had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. He’s drunk, and sad, and doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

“I thought you’d want to, cause it’ll make me happy. And you’ll do anything to make me happy.” One of his hands reached up and grabbed your jaw, making sure you couldn’t look away.

“Colson you’re being a fucking weirdo, let me go.” You raised your voice. Your heart was racing at this point and the thoughts flowing around your head were not pretty. 

You were always anxious for the day he’d figure you out. When he’d finally realize how you felt for him. But this was worse than anything you’d thought of. 

“You’ll do anything to make me happy because you love me, right?” 

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, wanting nothing more but to look away from his sinister expression. The way he was looking at you made it very clear that he was enjoying your discomfort, your embarrassment. 

“Colso-” 

He walked forwards, pushing you gently against the wall. His arms went to either side of you, his face inches from yours. You tried to look away, but his hand on your jaw forced you to face him.

Any other time you would have loved for Colson to pin you against his wall, but this was wrong. 

“Just say it. Say you’re in love with me, and I’ll drop it.” 

“Colson, what the fuck are you on right now?” You tried to steer the topic away from you, but he wouldn’t have it. 

“Say it.” 

You reached up to try and push his chest away from you, but he was much taller and stronger than you, so you did nothing. 

“Just tell me!” He yelled at your silence. A tear slipped down your cheek as you trembled under him. His face was red and his eyes were watering. 

 “Why are you doing this?” You whispered. This all felt like a bad dream, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. 

“Because I need to know if she was right.” His voice got a little quieter, but he still wouldn’t move away from you. “I need to know if the reason the love of my fucking life just left me is true.”

You were shaking, your breaths getting shorter. “What are you talking about.” Your words were choked. The grip on your jaw started to get a little too tight.

“I defended you!” He yelled, tears falling from his face. “She told me that you were in love with me and I defended you.”

“Colson you’re hurting me.” You whined, trying to wriggle your way out of his grasp. He ignored your statement and continued talking, but his grip loosened slightly.

“And then she told me that she thinks I’m in love with you.” His voice was getting darker. “And that’s why she left. So I want to make it very clear to you.” He paused, leaning closer to your ear. “I will never love you. Ever. Not now, not in a million lifetimes. You mean nothing to me.”

Your vision was blurry from your tears, so you blindly reached out to push him away from you. His body seemed to have given up, as he moved backwards out of your way, stumbling slightly. Through your tears you could make out a smug smile on the man before you ran out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

You ran down the stairs, the guys waiting for you to give them good news, but their hope turned to concern once they saw you. You walked straight past them towards the door, not trusting yourself to say anything without breaking completely.

As you reached for the door handle you heard a faint yell from upstairs, followed by loud banging, and then silence. You sniffled, turning the handle and leaving the house, much to the protest of your friends.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker angst #est #xx

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 5/16/2023

used up all my words writing fic this week, this is uncharacteristically short

listening

the last time i listened to this song, i was in a rental car on the way back to umass from seeing The Last Jedi with some friends. real oldheads: do you remember the mustang we all made fun of with lights that projected a little running horse onto the ground? that was the rental car.

this is a perfect feelgood summery song. no notes.

how'd i find this: listening to the s/tar wars rewatch podcast A More Civilized Age reminded me of how i cried in sheer rage at the end of The Las/t Jedi lol

-

reading

this is one of the coolest textile/data/activism projects ive ever heard of.

Even with natural dyes, for the most part, people don’t think about their water quality. They don’t understand that the invisible things in the water can affect the outcome of the color. You know, it’s just like, “Oh, madder is red, so I’m gonna get a red textile.” But there are so many more steps in dyeing a piece of fabric with a plant dye, or an insect dye. It’s not as easy as just putting some plants in a pot and turning the water heat up.

The goal of using color was to be able to visually demonstrate that not all water is the same. I was hoping to see if I could sort of pull out the pollution, but then what I figured out was that it’s very complex. It’s very possible that I’m demonstrating pollution, but I think I need to gather and do way more tests in order to prove something. 

-

watching

a bunch of stuff, but a lot of surface level critique.

Symphony for a Massacre (1963, Deray) is a french noir i picked somewhat at random bc it was on my library's streaming service. this is a film about a drug shipment, counterfeit money, and multiple double crosses (but none of them overlap in interesting ways) that takes you by the arm and drags you along, unwavering, toward the end. i want to sound less complimentary than i do there, but i can't be bothered. wanted to like it, it didn't grab me. i had some difficulty telling actors apart, and i don't think anyone's performance stood out except for the wife of a club owner, who flings her jewel box at someone's feet to pay her husband's debt.

Maverick (1994, dir. Donner) is full of guys i love to see (Molina, Coburn, Garner) but committed the unforgivable sin of reminding me that there were two much better movies i could be watching instead: Silverado (1985, dir. Kasdan) and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989, Spielberg). Jodie Foster is extremely fucking hot and more than holds her own. i think my big beef with this film is that i don't care for mel gibson as an actor or a person. also, this film cannot decide if it wants to be a comedy or an action-adventure (even though there are many funny action-adventure films) and as a result does neither genre well. i said "oh come ON" out loud at the final twist.

also rewatched The Batman (2022, dir. Reeves). i don't know why either. i think if it ended on the roof of gotham square garden and we didn't have the following goodbye scene with catwoman AND the following arkham scene, it would have stuck its landing a little better. wish this movie wasn't visually so fuckin dark, bud. throw some contrast in there.

-

playing

friday afternoon, remembered i had a code for Powerwasher Simulator, and since then i have played almost twenty hours. i've also almost caught up with A More Civilized Age, a podcast in the Austin Walker extended universe about rewatching all of star wars. five star podcast five star runtime

most importantly, BIG FOOKIN DISH

it is so very seductive to open this game and have my brain turn off. it is SO seductive to feel like i am actually accomplishing tangible things. unfortunately, i need to do many things with no tangible results (or no tangible results i will see for many months, which is almost as bad) and i seem to have fucked up my shoulder by playing too much viddy gaem.

the writing in this game (mostly in the form of text messages from your clients that pop in as you hit certain cleaning milestones) is so goddamn funny. this is a job sim game. there are eight billion of these games. they didn't have to be funny at all

-

making

read my pornography. it has math jokes. you do not need to have read anything else i've written.

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #having a bit of a Brain Week but im like. doing dishes again so things are improving #Youtube

[tigerdrop]

in lieu of doing more strenuous hand-based activities heres the Dogboy Gordon In Heat Megamix ive been talking about. i wrote this over the course of a couple months in an effort to feel okay about writing horny shit again and i only just realized there are nearly 6 thousand words here. and they only really fuck for like 10% of that

ta-dah

ive thought a lot about gordon being stuck back at gordonhouse after getting kicked out of barneyhouse. i think its ripe for a lot of pining. (and yes, he is pining over the guy hes actively banging. hes being a big mopey idiot over the fact that he doesnt get to have his fuckbuddy around 24/7.) absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever and gordons already at a baseline of "wheres benrey. wheres benrey"......and now i am about to turn it up to 11

so lets say......gordons starting to feel weirdly under the weather. sweaty and irritable and tired. hes holing himself up in his room a lot, wrapping himself up in blankets to fight off a chill and a sniffliness that wont go away. and hes gettin awfully moody, too. real fuckin testy. starting shit with freemind for no reason and snapping at og gordon like hes a teenager. and......hes nesting, almost, or at least, gathering up a whole bunch of blankets and pillows and anything that smells vaguely like benrey. (hes not really aware hes doing this last thing.)

basically, long story short, feetman is fucked up. hes pathetic. hes being a huge bitch. at least og gordon feels vaguely sorry for him, and expresses this by way of observing him and trying to treat it. for science. its better than freemind, who just loudly complains about him being a huge bitch and reeking up the place. theres something weird coming from vr gordons corner of the house.....a musky, heady, hormonal kind of thing that makes freemind act simultaneously territorial and irritable and more lascivious than normal. and that also piques og gordons attention, because having both of them be wound up little freaks at the same time is enough to make even the most resilient person pull their hair out

now gordon primes got his suspicions as to whats going on, but hes not gonna tell vr gordon that he suspects hes going into heat. that would compromise the experiment, and all that. so poor gordons just going thru all this shit not knowing what in the fuck is wrong with him and getting more worked up and irritable about it by the day. hes convinced that hes just got the flu, or something......except, uh, haha, jesus christ he is horny all the FUCKING TIME

he doesnt get it! he feels like shit all the time, so why is he constantly fighting off boners and having weird wet dreams and thinking about-- well. his fucking boyfriend, he guesses. (are they boyfriends?? he doesnt know. he gets a weird, sharp pang when he thinks about them not being boyfriends, at this point, but its not like theyve ever talked about it!) gordons half-convinced that hes just losing his mind from being stuck inside all the time and he really just wants to see benrey again. its, like, all he thinks about. (see? hes losing it. theres the proof.)

the sucks thing for everybody else is that gordon is also Extremely Vocal about how shitty he feels and how much he wishes he didnt feel shitty so he could go see benrey and how much he cant stand benrey for not being able to read his mind and come over when he feels bad. eventually freemind gets so sick of his shit that he decides to cut out the middleman and get benrey involved directly. "come take care of your fucking dog before i call the aspca! animal neglect is a crime, asshole!"

(if pressed, freemind would adamantly reject the idea that hes being nice to gordon. but on some level, hes kinda sympathetic. the guys clearly miserable, and he just keeps asking for the same fucking thing. might as well humor him to shut him up.)

vr gordon is completely unaware of these machinations, however. hes just holed up in his room trying to work out what makes him feel better because, uhh, powerade isnt helping

jacking off doesnt do a whole lot for him anymore. like, it feels good, but its not very satisfying. gordon just ends up feeling more restless than anything afterward. and hes always stupid horny. more blankets. a box fan. less blankets. sleeping with one of benreys shirts pressed up to his face. grinding into his pillow when he wakes up hard from yet another weird dream. theyre all a little helpful, and he feels like hes working towards the right thing, somehow, but its never really enough to take the edge off

and then.....he tries......jerking off more. especially when he realizes that its bizarrely soothing to do so while he can smell benrey up close and personal on that stupid shirt of his. better still when he rolls onto his side.....and then his stomach.......rocking his hips into the mattress until he gets the idea to lift his hips a little. and......oh. cool. something kind of......clicks. in his head. as he raises his hips higher while he keeps his arms wrapped around a pillow and benreys shirt jammed against his nose. hes got that lil moment of realization that this is good, actually. this feels like a good move. and its making some of that discomfort melt away

and gordon thinks about.....how it felt. earlier. when they were with barmey. and benrey had him just like this, ass up, face down, and was spreading him apart and licking him open and making him submit and he groans so fucking hard that embarassment just rips through him like lightning. but his tail starting to wag a little faster.....electricity shooting through his belly......and he cant help but wonder. what if benrey had kept going? pulled back and-- maybe, replaced his tongue with his fingers, one at a time, curling them inside him and telling him how well hes behaving and-- and his dick throbs, hard, and gordon realizes he wants fingers inside of himself right fucking now, thank you, hes not fully certain how to accomplish it be he is going to fucking try

(sigh) so my guy figures out about the old fingers in the ass trick. and i need you to understand that i am fully convinced that this is one of those guys who has an uproarious reaction to getting fingers in his ass. mr repressed and uptight over here doesnt really get what the big deal is until he gets braver and pushes a little deeper and hes rock hard in an instant, goodbye, just like everybodys favorite creative writing exercise

and this is what he decides to do for a solid day or two without leaving his room, because, honestly, this is awesome. and the longer he spends jerking off the less time he spends stressing about the fact that his imaginations getting really vivid, here. sure, like, hes no stranger to weird dreams even before this, but this is the first time hes really letting his mind run wild and this dude is nonstop thinking about being bred and gordon still has no fucking idea that hes in heat. doesnt even occur to him

unfortunately this also does not solve his problems but at least it feels baller and it keeps him occupied. also, unfortunately, the increased rate of jerking off is causing a serious uptick in Dog Smells, the effect of which is turning freemind into a nightmare. its just not good vibes in this house. enter: benrey

now i need you to understand that when these two meet up again i want gordon to get Emotional. think about how genuinely excited he gets to see some of his pals in canon. the like......excitement and disbelief when benrey shows up outside his window throwing rocks at it before noclipping in. he forgets to even act pissed off at first. i think it would be super fucking cute for him to drop the game for a moment just out of shock, basically. his tails waggin, his ears are perked up, and hed probably tackle benrey to the ground if he wasnt also a sweaty, trembling mess whos been holed up in his room for days.

and benrey has No Fucking Idea what he has walked in on here. as far as benrey knows, freemind just demanded he get over there and take care of his dog.

(INTERLUDE: here is the part where i gin up a freemind POV of this exact scene. b/c i am out of my fucking mind

so. i had the thought of a freemind POV chapter where hes spying on gordon and benrey.....because. gordons in heat. ive talked about that scenario before too (literally so many FUCKING times okay i just need this dude to have the uncontrollable urge to be bred like a little bitch! and for benrey to take pity on him and make him feel better by nutting in him literally as many times as is physically possible!!!)

but i wanna manifest it in this specific way: from an outside perspective. voyeurism is great and also i have a one track mind and basically the only time i traffic in Other Guys in this fandom anymore is as a participant in gordon and benreys horse shit. Im not apologizing for this

lets say.....vr gordons behavior has been getting worse and worse for "unknown reasons" and freeman prime just sees it as a key observational opportunity for his research. while freeminds getting really irritated at how much its cutting into his normal way of life. for one thing, vr gordons room reeks, and he cant even escape it in his own room! and its turning him into a feisty, aggressive, and loud son of a bitch. but he cant even resolve it in his usual fashion at this point (baiting vr gordon into another competition/fuckfest) b/c gordons being a little sadsack holed up in his room and doesnt wanna play

but also.....he kinda just feels bad for the guy at a certain point. hes clearly really miserable and looks downright ill and all hes asking for is to see his boytoy again. (gordons convinced that hes dying, and feels the need to dramatically speak to benrey one last time before he croaks.) so freemind decides, in all his benevolence, to go over gordon primes head and drag the guy over there anyway. (with machinations, not his literal bare hands. what is he, a caveman?) he reasons that itll be a good opportunity to twist gordons arm into groveling at his feet later

and he spies on the two of them in gordons room.....why? idk. possibly something to do with investigating this relationship between a gordon and a barney that he had yet to fully analyze. tl;dr he gets trapped in their closet for a remix of that one barmey voyeurism chapter b/c why the fuck not

i just.....i dont know.....i think theres something really charming about a 3rd party not being able to fully make out what theyre saying or doing but piecing things together anyway.....like benreys weirdly soft tone of voice when hes talking to a super agitated gordon. as far as any of them know, hes not really like that. he either sounds bored or smug, but either way, its usually straight-up antagonistic

it would make freemind bristle to hear it b/c its almost a mocking tone, but.....it makes gordons shoulders drop and gets him to let go of some of that tension and thats probably fascinating to watch. literally soothing him like a stressed out dog, huh. smoothing back his hair and murmuring things in a low, even tone that freeminds enhanced hearing still isnt good enough to make out. (the guy mumbles, okay? he needs a fucking toastmasters meetup.)

it would equal parts horrify and fascinate freemind, in my onion. watching a version of himself fall that hard into the loyal pet role.....its pathetic! for all that gordon goes on about not being a slave to his instinct or whatever, he sure is doing a bad job of acting like it! its like watching himself, but worse.

and benreys having to soothe him like a startled animal b/c he doesnt even know whats wrong with himself, but theres something thick enough on the air that even benrey can smell it, and hes taking some stabs at the dark. especially with how charged some of the shit gordons saying is......"i cant fucking take it anymore", "you smell so good", "i dont know whats wrong with me, man, my dick hasnt gone down for days and im pretty sure i need a doctor-- no, a real one, not the other gor-- NOT a vet, JESUS"

and the whole time.....freeminds peeking from behind a closet door. watching them devolve from outright hostility into "gordon climbing into benreys lap and shoving one of benreys hands up his shirt and demanding that he fucking touch him already"

normally i dont think freemind would be averse to a little bit of voyeurism, here. if it was anybody else, hed probably at least engage in a little heavy petting. but this is getting weird, man. he cant shake the uncanny feeling that this is something too intimate for him to be watching. for one thing, gordons whimpering like a goddamn dog just from a little necking, and for two, hes never really been the kind of guy to watch people make out for 15 minutes before they get to the good stuff

its just kind of unsettling how much these two clearly really, really like each other at this point. its not like watching gordon prime give vr gordon a handjob as part of a "test". freemind expected more of a hatefuck kind of deal out of these two, what with how often gordons normally going on about how much he hates the guy, what a pain in the ass benrey is, how he just wishes benrey would stop jerking him around.....etc. freemind could shit himself right now. that lying bitch!

i imagine its also kind of painful, on a personal level, for him to watch this borderline-sappy shit. he cant even fathom being on the receiving end of that behavior, let alone from......well. theyve all got their barneys, right? and gordon primes basically doomed himself to incel status b/c he wont nut up and do anything about it. freemind just assumed they were all in the same boat: cursed to casual sex with their roommates/clones, forever, and unable to achieve any kind of intimacy b/c all 3 gordons are fucked up in the exact same way. since theyre all just diff flavors of the same fucking guy, right?

well, theres the evidence that hes wrong. and that vr gordons better than him, somehow. thats gotta suck, bro

anyway then he watches vr gordon get railed in the ass a bunch and jerks off anyway b/c its still hot. see ya)

“take care of your dog”. huh. hes got no clue what that means but, yknow, he does kinda miss his dog. hasnt seen gordon in awhile. and he immediately comments "wow. you look fucked up" in as blunt and unsympathetic a way as possible. but gordons so far gone that he cant even work up a good anger about it. he is pretty fucked up, man. and benrey sits on the bed and slaps his forehead with a palm to take his temperature (and that gets gordon to bitch at him, finally, that thats not how you do it, asshole) and judges that, uh, he is hot. in his expert opinion

and thats when gordon kinda grabs his sleeve and tugs it and starts tryin to say something. hes really bad at it, because he is having to perform the mortifying task of Owning Up To It, but eventually he manages to grind out that he needs benrey to touch him, please. just pet him. something. he feels really bad and he just needs benrey to scratch his fucking ears. this is the most gordon can cop to in one go, and it is such a sad struggle to watch, but benreys caught off guard by it and he feels weirdly bad for gordon upon hearing it so  hes just like "whoa, okay" when gordon tugs his hand to his head

gordon groans the moment his fingernails start scratching behind the ears and digging into his scalp. even just that much feels really fucking good. its comforting, for one thing, and its benrey, for another, and the physical touch feels so fucking good right now that goosebumps are crawling down his neck. gordon cant help but lean against benrey and bury his head in the crook of his shoulder. he wants to hide his face from scrutiny and he wants to get closer but he doesnt know how to say what his fucking problem is

and benreys weirdly quiet. just kinda mumbling and shushing him intermittently, awkward and not sure what to do b/c this is a level of intimacy he was not expecting but gordons sure is responding nicely to a second hand in his hair

so having both of benreys hands scratching at his scalp is really getting to gordon. hes scritchin behind the ears and gordons tails wagging at a mile a minute. the feelings making goosebumps race down his neck and arms. he starts kind of mumbling something into benreys shoulder, how hes been feeling so fucked up lately, and he squirms a little closer. hes not really aiming for anywhere in particular but every neuron thats firing in him right now is telling him to get closer. make contact. he missed the fucking guy, what can he say.

and one of benreys hands......slips down to gordons face. his jaw. a thumb pushing into that soft little divot between his jaw and neck, like hes trying to push up into gordons fucking teeth. its weird and bizarrely intrusive, but benreys hand is broad and warm and gordon leans into it anyway, groaning with relief. its not like its not doing anything for him. kind of the opposite, actually. then he palms at gordons neck, and gordon starts breathing harder. he can feel his heartbeat rabbit-fast, pushing against benreys skin (and theres no way benrey isnt feeling that, too).

benrey eyes are lidded and his breaths starting to get heavier, too. naturally, yknow, since gordons practically draped over him right now, melting all the more the longer benrey keeps petting him. oxytocin is crazy, man, especially when a guys in the full throes of some kind of chemical meltdown of the glands. gordons eyes are screwed shut, tail thumping furiously against the bed, and hes panting at benreys neck like hes a fucking dog.  he just doesnt know how to articulate what the fuck his problem is

benrey smells insanely good to him right now, and gordon just blurts that out. benrey gives him some shit for it, but when gordon only makes a weird noise in response and fists his hands in benreys hoodie, it makes him shut up real quick. hes squeezing out words about feeling like he needs something, but its clearly a fucking effort. its almost pitiful

so. gordons crawled right into benreys lap, too impatient after days and days of feeling like this (you know, being in heat, in so many words). hes been pounding off like crazy, that brand new collar of his strapped to his neck nearly every time b/c hes that desperate to feel… well. *benrey*. he cant fucking jerk off to thoughts of anything else - porn doesnt do it for him, and his fantasies slip right back to the same thing every single time. its frustrating! hes bisexual, for gods sake! its not like hes normally immune to the wiles of the Phat Ass White Girl, but lately he just keeps ending up on his hands and knees and whining benreys name into his pillow and he couldnt focus on a girls rack if he tried

point being. hes being awfully fucking demanding. (and also, hes wearing the collar *right fucking now)*. he shoves benreys hand up his shirt and shivers the moment he makes contact with gordons burning-hot flesh. and hes demanding that benrey touch him already, jesus, hes losing his mind! and benreys just crooning at him, “bossy, huh,” but hes scritching gordons ears and palming at his side and nosing at gordons neck and gordon starts to feel like hes melting into it. his protests at being talked down to are perfunctory at best

benrey licks a stripe up gordons neck and starts muttering his stupid horseshit right in gordons ear and it makes gordon clutch his shoulders so tight, claws digging into the meat of him. benreys kind of into it, though, and it just makes him laugh, low and harsh and right in gordons ear. that just makes gordons problem worse. he lets out quiet, nasal whines on every exhale, like a literal fucking dog.

he starts teasing, like, “haha, you’re *gagging* for it, bro,” but gordon doesnt respond with the defensiveness he expects. instead, its like opening a floodgate - he is, hes fucking *desperate*, okay, his dick hasnt gone down in days and he wants benrey so bad he cant see straight and he cant stop thinking about him and all of this comes tumbling out of him at once. gordons trying to press himself as close to benrey as he can physically get, legs straddling benreys lap and arms clutched tight around his back. and when benrey prods a little more, tells gordon to say what hes been thinkin about, gordon starts to pant, squeezing his eyes shut. but he cant bring himself to do anything more than choke and stutter on the words

hes half-hard in his underwear already (and, lets be be clear, he was only in boxer briefs and a tank top to begin with. hes sweating buckets and its the least amount of clothing he could get away with wearing around the house) and his tails thumping a mile a minute and hes so far gone, just from benrey talking down to him and kissing his neck and scratching his ears. but hes not budging yet, so benrey slides that hand on his ears over to his ponytail and *yanks*. tells him, “speak.” gordons dick twitches rapidly, and he lets out a sharp sound, and he finally says it: he needs benrey to *fuck* him, jesus

benrey lets out a harsh breath at that. “yeah? thats what puppy wants?” and the nickname should blister him, make him feel to embarrassed to continue, but gordons too desperate to care. he just starts spewing a litany of “god yes”s and “please”s. hes getting harder and harder, pressed up against benreys belly, and benrey can *feel* it. “good boy,” he mutters, and those claws dig harder, that panting gets louder and harsher

he slips a hand around to gordons back, rubbing slowly for a moment as if to soothe him, and then slides it under the back of gordons boxers. and lower still. starts rubbing at gordons hole. that gets a quiet “oh god” out of gordon.

gordon cant help himself - he rocks forward against benrey, just a little, rubbing his bulge against what he realizes is benreys *extremely* hard dick in his sweatpants. hes not the only one whos got it bad. but he *is* the only one whispering, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” as benrey pushes a little further, makes as if hes about to breach gordon dry. the poor guys so needy that he probably wouldnt even argue!

but benrey just stares at him, wide eyed and flushed, mouth hanging open a little. gordons so hot for this that it surprises the both of them.

anyway after some boring position finagling benrey coaxes gordon onto his hands and knees, running a broad hand down gordons shaking back. and he pulls back gordons tail, exposing him. its so fucking humiliating - gordons got his face buried in a pillow, and his ass in the air, and hes never felt so *vulnerable* before. he wants to argue, he wants to lift his head and look back to make sure that everythings, like, okay back there - benreys staring at his entire asshole, okay, and he wasnt exactly anticipating benrey making a house call to fuck him in the ass - but every time he lifts his head, or starts to say something neurotic about it, benrey chides him about it. clicks his tongue. tells him, “hey. dogs dont talk” or “i said *bow*, bro”.

for all his insisting that hes a real guy, that hes not just a dog, gordons feeling less and less like a human and more like something in thrall to his instincts. the condescension rankles like it always does, but doing what benrey tells him to feels good. feels natural. presenting himself like this feels like what hes *supposed* to do. it doesnt stop him from running his mouth entirely, but it helps to mitigate some of the embarrassment.

and then… benrey *licks*. gordon tenses and gasps. he doesnt know how benrey can stand it, its gotta be, like, unhygienic! but that didnt scare him off the last time they tried this, and its not like gordon hasnt thought about it since. hes thought about it a lot, actually. but hes been too neurotic to ask for it. benreys not stupid, though. hes a good dog owner (at least, so he thinks) and hes gonna take care of his dog. so he licks again, and again, pressing a little harder against gordons hole on each pass with the broad side of his tongue until he dares to breach it with the tip.

gordons rock hard again in an instant. his dick hangs between his legs and drips onto the sheets. he digs his fingers into the pillow now, tearing holes in its surface with those sharp nails of his, and he makes embarrassingly high noises that he muffles into into the pillow, too. hes tense, hes so fucking tense, he should be clamping down and making benreys task really fucking hard, but theres bright pink sweet voice dripping from his hole and benreys rubbing the side of his thigh in an effort to soothe him and both of these things work in tandem to get him to relax. and benrey works his tongue in further, further than a human ought to.

the tip was one thing, but it gets wider as benrey pushes it in, and its just as good as it was before - better, even, because now its just the two of them, just a master and his dog, and benreys the only one he wants to see him like this. bent over and whimpering. he cant— he cant stomach the thought of anybody else doing this to him. hell, there was a point once where the idea of stomaching *benrey* doing this to him would have made him laugh. but here he is. benreys fucking him open with his tongue and pressing against something thats making him see stars and gordon just wants *more*. he says it so sweet, too, voice growing hoarse and raw as he begs benrey to just fucking do it already, he doesnt wanna come like this!

gordon gets so worked up and emotional about it that benrey takes the time to scratch behind his ears again, shushing him and telling him to chill. benreys got him. hes been a good dog, and good dogs get treats. hearing the words “good dog” makes gordons entire body flush. thats all he wants, really. he wants to be a good dog. he wants to be *told*. he blurts out, “oh my god— say it again,” and benreys like, “huh? say what? youre gonna have to be more specific,” clicking the last syllable. it makes all the hairs on gordons head rise and prickle with shame. the best he can do is mumble it into his pillow.

benrey hears it, though, and tugs at gordons collar from behind, just enough to raise his head. “whassat? you want me to call you a good boy?” gordon cant bring himself to answer that directly, but his stupid body betrays him by making him whine. jesus christ, yes, thats all he WANTS! he needs benrey to be good and nice to him for once in his fucking life and give him what he wants instead of taking, taking, taking! but benrey just tells him that hes gonna have to earn it. gonna have to be *real* good for him. gordon could fucking snarl at that, but benreys pulling back to rub his dick between gordons cheeks and against his hole and that shuts him up pretty fast because hes *so close* to getting what he wants and hes not about to fuck it up now by running his big dumb mouth

and then… he starts to push in. that sweet voice has loosened gordon up enough to take even benrey, who, uh, is definitely the bigger of the two, in that regard. he goes slow, uncharacteristically so, and gordons chest heaves with the force of how hard hes breathing. a quiet string of “oh god”s spills out of him as he tries to crane his neck back to watch. the head breaches him with a strange popping sensation, and benrey groans, loud, as the rest of him slides in with little resistance in comparison. “good,” he pants in turn, “youre takin it so good,” and—

and gordon comes, in weak, aborted spurts. it snuck up on him. he clenches so fucking tightly that it winds benrey a little. he breathes out, “whoa. did you—” but gordon just begs him to shut up, keep going, hes not— hes not done yet, its always like this, its not *enough*. his dick barely even flags afterward, it just hangs there, achingly hard and dripping with cum. benrey cant even find it in himself to make fun of him. he wants it so fucking bad, doesnt he? and he feels so good, so fucking tight and slick around benrey that the only thought running through his head is “gotta take care of my dog gotta fuck my best friend gotta nut in him and make him howl”. so he pushes himself alllll the way in until theyre pressed together, skin to skin.

then he starts to move. slow, careful thrusts, more for benreys benefit than gordons. if hes not careful, hes gonna blow his load, right then and there, and hes trying to make it good for gordon, too, okay? unlike *some* of them, hes not gonna bust in two minutes and then spend the next half hour crying and trauma-dumping to the guy hes still got his dick inside of.

once he thinks hes got a grip, though, benrey starts fucking him in earnest, and that changes gordons vocalizations from weak little whimpers into something louder. less restrained. hes given up any pretense of being quiet so that his other selves dont hear that hes snuck his boytoy into his room. just loud, wordless moans on each thrust, initially muffled into the pillow but soon spilling into the wider room when he turns his head to catch his breath. the only words hes managing are “oh god” and “please” and “benrey, benrey, *benrey*”, and benrey just responds to him like, “yeah? thats good? fuuuck, bro, so good for me,” all short of breath and barely able to speak himself

he wants to see gordons face. he *needs* to see gordons face. needs to see what hes doing to him, needs to see that cute fuckin blush of his. so he tugs on gordons collar again, bringing him to his hands and knees properly instead of that bowing position. and then further still - pulls him back so that benreys on his knees, and gordons on his knees in turn, on his lap, cock still buried inside of him and fucking him in short, hurried thrusts. “paws up,” benrey tells him, and gordon does it. instantly. no resistance. just folds them at his chest like a real dog would.

“whos a good boy?” benrey croons, right in his ear again. gordon gasps, “i-i am!”

“yeah? youre a good boy?” nod, wail. “whose— whose good boy are you?”

and gordon chokes on his response. he cant say it, he *cant*, he doesnt want to be benreys but he does, he *does*. he doesnt want to be benreys because its not fucking fair! he cares so fucking much! so much more than benrey does, it feels like, obsessing over the guy like hes wrapped thorny vines all around gordons heart and he cant so much as shift in his seat without feeling the tug and the ache and thinking of benrey again. and benrey doesnt care, he never fucking cares, except—

except he showed up at gordons house, in his room. without even being asked. like he knew something was wrong. and he— hes always talking to gordon, shooting him stupid texts just to make him laugh. scheduling *date nights* for them. date nights where, yeah, maybe they couldnt see each other in person, and maybe they always end in some kind of depraved sexual act, but its not like gordons not into it. hes frighteningly into it, actually. and hes *so* into hearing benreys voice, low and crooning, right in his ear, and seeing him lean on an elbow and smile at him afterward. its— its practically genuine. and benreys always making excuses to talk with him, do things with him, watch stupid fucking movies that only gordon cares about and stream with him on twitch to help boost his subscriber count and—

and—

oh god. maybe he *does* care. that might be more terrifying than the alternative.

then benrey yanks the collar again. presses the whole of gordons back against his front in one hot, unbroken line. and asks, “i said, whose good boy are you, bro? *speak.*”

“benrey,” he blurts out, a ragged moan, “d-dont make me sa-AY it, oh god—”

“no?” benrey stills suddenly. his hands keep gordon stuck in place, unable to move or bounce or feel benrey shift inside of him. “thats, uh… thats too bad, friend. this trains for good boys only. good dogs go to heaven 2. no bad dogs allowed. gonna have to, uhh, escort you off—”

“im not a bad dog!”

“i dunno, gordo. bein’ kind of, uh… disobedient.”

(sorry. thats all i got . byeeee)

#this is so far from finished b/c A) im a coward now and B) typing qith my left hand sucks so i dont wanna do it right now. Sorry #writin stuff

[bouncyirwin]

So after reading Knock Knock, Let the Devil in again (I can’t praise you enough with how good that story is ♥️) and I’m so invested in the the dynamic between Shikamaru, Sakura, and Kakashi!

And because I have a question (and I hope I’m not bothering you by asking this 😭) how do you think Kakashi and Shikamaru would react if Sakura either came back from a mission seriously injured or if they found her seriously injured from a mission?

Hiii, thank you so much for this ask, I’m always so ready to gush about these three!

When I read this ask, inspiration quite literally slammed into me and I churned this out in a sprint session. Oops.

Word Count: 2,126 words

I present to you a one-shot in the knock knock-verse.

It was too early in the day to function, yet Shikamaru was in the Hokage’s office bustling about, feeling only half-human as he guzzled on his third coffee. “Fuckin’ paperwork,” he muttered disdainfully at the sight of an ungodly pile marked with his name.

That had to violate some natural law. How this became Shikamaru’s routine was beyond him.

Once upon a time, he professed that his deepest wish was to lead a mediocre life. And here he was.

Tsunade showed up ten minutes late, visibly drunk and doing very little to conceal it. “Morning,” she tossed over her shoulder and made a beeline for the coffee machine.

“Hokage-sama,” Shikamaru said, studying the dark circles under her eyes and her ashen pallor. “You look …”

He clamped his mouth shut. Was it worth getting assigned a D-rank to let her know she looked like shit? Probably not.

“Save it kid, I know,” she waved a casual hand and slumped in her chair. “Couldn’t care less with the night I pulled.”

“Drinking again, Hokage-sama?” he inquired with polite interest.

“Ha,” she said. “I wish.”

When he raised an eyebrow, she elaborated, slumping even further in her chair. “Sakura,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “They brought her back yesterday.”

Shikamaru’s heart sank. “Brought her back?”

“Yes, there was an ambush and she was badly injured—cracked every one of her ribs, that idiot. And the hospital was out of B-positive blood so Shizune had to sit the healing session out to donate blood. Nearly ran myself dry trying to keep her breathing…” Tsunade was scrubbing at her face but Shikamaru wasn’t listening anymore—he could barely hear her over the deafening roar of his heartbeat.

“Is she alive?” he demanded once he found his voice. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes, but she’s going to need plenty of rest—” the rest of her sentence remained a mystery for Shikamaru tore out of the room with a single-minded focus.

In the space between heartbeats, rationality was tossed out of the window. It left behind a desperate and half-crazed person—he needed to see her, to hear her heartbeat, to see the lively green of her eyes and he wasn’t going to rest until it happened.

He burst through the hospital doors undoubtedly looking like he’d escaped an asylum. The nurse he cornered shot him a bewildered look. “Sir, are you—” she began to say when he cut her off.

“Haruno Sakura,” he demanded breathlessly. “Her room. Where can I find her?”

“Sir,” she attempted again, sounding a little exasperated. “Haruno-san just underwent extensive surgery, she’s not allowed visitors, only family members can see her.”

Shikamaru pinned her with a no-nonsense look. “Akane-san,” he read off her name tag. “By order of the Hokage, I’m here to see Haruno Sakura.”

Akane shuffled nervously. “Do you have an official slip?”

He arched an eyebrow at her, as if to say ‘really?’.

“I-I might get in trouble,” her eyes shifted unsurely. “I need to put you down as a relative and you’re… what would I mark you down as, sir?”

It occurred to him a second later that he was being a total ass. But rationality had already fled. He was now a mess of frayed nerves.

The toddler bawling in the background wasn’t helping his case, and neither was the frantic husband demanding to see his wife at the reception, babbling about … oh.

Shikamaru turned back to the nurse, and before he realised what he was saying, he blurted. “Her husband. Mark me down as her husband.”

Akane blinked. “Oh.”

Shikamaru stared her down, daring her to argue with him. But she simply nodded and scribbled something on her chart. “Right. Of course. Follow me.”

As they stalked through clinical hallways, Shikamaru’s heart rose in a crescendo, worry and nervousness swirling in his chest in a toxic mix. What would he see upon reaching her room? Was she in pain? Was she even lucid? Gods, what if she was in a coma? What if she’d hurt herself so irreparably that it cost her career?

His mind raced with sickly thoughts until his stomach roiled and his face tinged green.

Akane stopped at room 217 and there she was.

“Oh gods,” Shikamaru whispered.

She was hooked to so many wires. Oxygen tubes and an IV and a heart monitor and tubes he didn’t even recognise. She looked frail and broken, too small amidst white sheets and beeping monitors.

He heard Akane quietly slip out of the room and was glad for it because his knees nearly buckled.

Sakura wasn’t awake. Hell, she didn’t even look alive, her face so pale where it wasn’t bruised blue and purple.

Numbly, his feet carried him to her side, his breath a short and rapid thing that barely saturated his lungs.

There was blood caked beneath her fingernails and in the cracks of her lips. His eyes stung faintly as they slid over to the heart monitor.

It was too slow.

“Oh god,” he said again, every cell in his body congested with fear.

He was afraid to even reach out and touch her, lest she broke apart under his fingertips. Delicately, ever so delicately and with trembling fingers, he ghosted a light stroke across the apple of her cheek.

“Sakura…” he said feebly, wishing her eyes would just open.

Except they didn’t. And her heart monitor droned on sluggishly in the background, crawling heartbeats that served more in adding to his anxiety than diminishing it.

It was beating. But it wasn't beating enough. What if it stopped beating?

Shikamaru wasn’t prepared. She wasn’t allowed to die. Not yet. Not ever. He didn’t care what laws governed this cursed world, this was Sakura, she was spring incarnated, and she wasn’t allowed to die.

His fingers curled around her hand, and he wished for the first time in his life that he could heal. That he could bleed strength into her the way she did to him.

It was getting difficult to breathe. What if she died?

What then?

Fuck, he hadn’t even told her he loved her.

His vision swam, rendering the room a splash of colours and pink. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t breathe.

In the muddled daze of anxieties and fears, Shikamaru wished he had the foresight to grab Kakashi.

He’d never needed an anchor more than he did in that second.

*

Kakashi was having an incredibly shitty day.

His coffee machine broke down, he spilled tea over his mission report and he mixed a black shirt with his coloured laundry and now half of his clothes were beyond repair.

“Dammit,” he sighed, tossing his book aside. He couldn’t even read, busy as he was dwelling on his ruined laundry.

He took one dispassionate look at his soggy report and groaned. “What a mess,” he’d actually attempted to do this one on time. Served him right for breaking his routine.

Kakashi grabbed his weapons holster and stepped out for some much needed air. Maybe he should just turn in a tea-flavoured report—perhaps if he offered Tsuande a bottle of sake she’d make an exception and accept it.

He made a beeline to her office, remembering he was due for a debrief. But what he found upon his arrival wasn’t what he expected.

Tsunade was shouting to Shizune, clearly exasperated: “—and he just upped and left! I’m his Hokage, and he upped and left!”

“Maah…” Kakashi began unsurely.

Tsunade’s gaze cut to him. “Hatake, there you are,” she huffed. “I’m too fucking hungover for this. We’re one man down, I need someone to look over these reports.”

Kakashi frowned, finally noticing how empty her office looked. “Where’s Shikamaru…?”

“The idiot left,” Tsunade growled, raising goosebumps on his arms. “I told him I spent all night healing her, what did he think, that I’d leave her to die? Fucking hell.”

“Leave who to die?” Kakashi said, confused. “What happened?”

“Sakura happened,” Tsunade ranted tiredly. “They brought her back almost half dead, I’ve been patching her up for the better part of eight hours and this is how I’m rewarded.”

But Kakashi had stopped listening after ‘half dead’. Half dead? “Half … dead?” he echoed, his mouth dry.

No. This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t happening.

“Yes,” Tsunade sighed. “But I operated on her and she’s going to be fine.”

Kakashi barely heard the words. His brain was a string of very adamant denial. No, no, no, no.

He didn’t want it to be true—all those years he had been certain, was so sure that it was him, that he was the reason the people he loved always died. That he was a curse to those he cared about.

Every person he loved came back in a body bag.

Fuck.

Kakashi turned tail, a sudden manic urge to see her rising unbearably in his chest. What if Tsunade was lying, what if Sakura wasn’t fine? What if she was fine, but she died anyway?

Fear pumped through his veins, rendering him dizzy. This was his worst nightmare come to life—how could he have forgotten that people, even those that could mend bones and heal what was broken, were so damn breakable?

His legs couldn’t carry him quickly enough.

He didn’t waste time interrogating the nurses for her whereabouts, he knew her scent like she was a part of him. It led him to her now, her unique sweetness tainted with blood and antiseptic.

Gods, he was going to be sick.

He nearly ripped the door off its hinges in his haste to get to her.

Shikamaru was already there, looking wrecked, looking worse than Kakashi had ever seen him. “Is she—”

He couldn’t even say it.

“They … they said they don’t know when she’ll wake up,” Shikamaru whispered hollowly.

Kakashi felt the ground crumbling beneath his feet. “No,” he whispered, leaning back against the wall when he teetered off balance.

His hip jarred against the doorknob but Kakashi barely registered the sting. Barely anything registered beyond the fear-terror-fear coursing through his veins like poison. “Please, no,” he said.

This couldn’t be happening again.

His father and Obito and Rin and Minato-sensei—hadn’t they been enough? Was Sakura going to be another name on the too long list of losses that haunted him?

He really was going to be sick. He clenched his jaw against the reflex, forcing his brain out of the dizzying tornado of anxieties. His gaze focused on Shikamaru, the only other person that mattered as much.

He didn’t look good at all, pale and shaking and appearing ready to fall apart.

The sight of him was strangely grounding.

Kakashi found his elusive strength, located his knees under him and was at his side in the next second.

“Shikamaru,” he rasped, clutching the other man’s arm.

“She looks dead,” Shikamaru whispered. “I … I …”

Words eluded him.

Kakashi tugged at his arm, drawing Shikamaru against him. He went without a fight, slumping against Kakashi’s chest like a puppet whose strings were cut.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kakashi lied, surprised by how much conviction he could bleed into it when it was for someone else’s benefit. “She’s going to be fine.”

Shikamaru shook in his hold, his shoulders minutely trembling. But just as suddenly, his body calmed down and he gripped tightly onto Kakashi’s middle. “What if she isn’t?”

“She will be,” Kakashi stressed because … anything else was not an option. “It’s Sakura. She punched a goddess in the face.”

Shikamaru let out a short, pained laugh against him. “Gods, don’t remind me; what a reckless idiot.”

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Kakashi confessed in a soft murmur against Shikamaru’s hair. He tightened his hold on him, drawing strength from the warmth of his body. “As beautiful as the two of you together.”

Lean fingers dug in his back. “I’m glad you’re here,” Shikamaru said sincerely. “I’m glad you came. Fuck, I think I’m gonna cry.”

“You can cry,” Kakashi soothed, sinking his fingers in lush, dark hair. “Hell, I might cry.”

Shikamaru let out a wet chuckle. “Yeah.”

Kakashi’s face bowed, nuzzling the side of his head as he took a shuddering breath. He clutched Shikamaru closely, his breath shallow and his heart a warbling mess in his chest.

He couldn’t think about if she died. He would die, then, if not from sorrow then from a broken psyche. It was easier to focus on the beeping machines and Shikamaru’s sure, thudding heart. Kakashi tuned in on every shuddering breath, his palm mapping his expanding ribs.

His focus narrowed down to his senses, to Shikamaru, to Sakura’s fighting, beating heart and prayed like he never had before.

She was going to be alright.

She had to be.

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