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#me: rebrands and tries this again
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crazy that miley cyrus released a song with the line “i met a boy in every city / no one kept me amused / but don’t call me a lolita cuz i don’t let them through” and it has never raised any kind of controversy because the song is so unlistenably bad you have to stop playing it 15 seconds in or else die
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onlycosmere · 11 days
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BlackCoffeeBulb: you'll get him sued for copyright infringement for a few useless internet points, congrats
mpkeith :  It's free advertising...
"Where did the name Wind Runner come from?"
"Well, there are these amazing books..."
So far (to my knowledge) nobody has been sued for Bridge Four homemade stuff, fan art, 3D printed shard blades and so on.
I really don't think Brandon Sanderson is that kind of guy. Seems to me he's happy to share with all of us his work.
Brandon Sanderson: I have expressly permitted it, in fact. I had a lawyer draw up as liberal a fanart policy as I could make, and not scare away people like film companies. Basically, you can create whatever you want for your personal use, and can even sell some form of fanart so long as you're not using me or implied relationship with me in the marketing.
Do look at the official language in my FAQ, though, as opposed to taking my (flawed) memory on how it works. Either way, no, I'm not going to ever be bothered by individual fan creations, and instead encourage them. And something like this far is a huge mark of respect from the owner, toward me.
gsauce8:  So essentially as long as you're not saying something along the lines of "Officially licensed" or anything close to that, you're good to go? That's freaking awesome.
Brandon Sanderson: It's a little more tricky than that--I let the lawyers hash it out. But basically, you can't use our artwork, our branding, and can't say it's official. But you CAN sell art prints of art you made of characters/scenes from the books, even if they include things like Kaladin's scars or a Bridge Four patch. You don't need a license, and you don't owe us anything.
It's a legal grey area that I want to make less grey. I like fanart, and want to encourage it--and in so doing, feel like an artist making something transformative like this should be able to profit from their art. Yes, my books inspired that art--but other books inspired me to write, as did films and artwork. This is how art is created.
Mostly, this applies to thinks like prints right now. (We haven't authorized T-shirts, for example, as that kind of thing gets really tricky with movie deals wanting merchandising rights.) Again, read the exact language on the FAQ, but we've tried to be as lenient here as we can be.
Also, I have no problem with fanfic, so long as it remains in the fan realm, rather than being sold. (But if you write something awesome, and readers like it, I'd encourage you to change the names/setting and rebrand it as your own so you could sell it.)
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plutospanda · 8 months
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Hi. So this is my request.
Tenya Iida x reader where the readers parents kick them out because they want to be a hero and are in UA. Then they just show up at Tenyas door in the pouring rain to ask if they could sleep at his house for a night. And Tenya is just so 😠mad. Protective Tenya activated.
so sorry that this took me ages to get out! I had no motivation for months and am finally attending my drafts and rebranding lol! so here's the first of many to come ♡♡
warnings:  emotional abuse, reader is kicked out by their parents, self-deprecating and unhappy thoughts
SFW, fluff, angst but not really, mostly comfort.
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I should have been a doctor, I thought. My clothes clung to my body, skin prickled with goosebumps as I collapsed onto the ground. The unsigned, now drenched, permission form was bunched in my fist, my nails digging into my skin. 
“Why would we sign this?” My mother’s voice was ringing through my mind as I recalled tonight’s events. “Just so you to go kill yourself for some dream?” 
“Stupid,” I scolded myself. The cold rain only picked up as I began to cry, choked sobs being drowned out by the pouring rain. 
“If you don’t want to give up on this silly dream then leave!” My father slammed his fist down on the table as he spoke. “I don’t want some mediocre hero claiming to be my child. Go play hero somewhere else.”
I took a deep breath, eyes shutting tightly to blink away my tears. “This is pathetic,” I said to nobody. My hands rubbed the tears off my face, replacing it with mud from the ground. 
I stood, legs tired. I didn’t even think to look at where I was going, just running as fast and far as I could. I looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, the only light coming from the streetlights. I patted around, luckily smacking something hard and rectangular shaped, my phone. 
I pulled it out, 3% battery remaining. Quickly I pulled up my GPS, trying to see where I was and what the closest place to go was. I’d run close to UA, luckily. Perhaps I could see if anyone was still there, although unlikely. 
I tried looking around more, finding a familiar street name. Tenya’s street, I thought. Something inside me sank, dreading just showing up at his doorstep, soaking wet with tears and mud staining my cheeks. But it was the only place to go, and I trusted him more than anyone else in my class. 
The walk wasn’t very long, but it felt like forever. The rain only worsened, I would definitely be getting sick. By the time I got to Iida’s street, my phone died. I continued, walking up the street and stopping at the mailbox reading IIDA. A light was on inside, I could see in the dining room. Tenya sat there with his family, eating dinner. They were smiling, even laughing as his older brother said something, a huge grin on his face. 
I took a deep breath before walking up to their door. I stood for a moment, enjoying the roof over my head before shutting my eyes and raising my fist. 
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK
I took a step away from their door. Eyes willing themselves to open and hands behind my back, gripping my wrists tightly in anticipation. 
A few footsteps came from the otherside before their dark blue door swung open. A woman, blue eyes and black hair, answered with a smile. I opened my mouth for a moment but said nothing. As she studied me, I could see her smile fade lightly and her face contorted into confusion. 
Tenya came up behind her, his brother following behind. His blue widened after seeing me, hand going to the woman’s shoulder and leading her out of the way. 
“Tenya,” was all I could manage for now. “Hi.” 
The girl and Tenya’s brother shared confused looks, then left us alone. Tenya stepped out onto the porch, hand immediately flying to my forehead. 
“You’re cold,” he said. “What’re you doing out in this weather?”
“Can I stay here?” I asked him softly, “just for the night.” 
His head tilted, eyes focusing on me. “Sure,” his hand slipped into mine before he used the other to open his door again. He pulled me in, shutting the door behind us. 
“Stay here,” he told me, gesturing to the welcome mat I stood on. I looked at my feet, wet socks leaving dark wet marks on the fabric. Shit, I thought. Forgot shoes.
The woman peaked from the dining room archway. Tenya’s brother tugging on her shirt, “leave them be, mom.” He whispered. I didn’t look over at them, too embarrassed to look. Instead, I studied the inside of his home. The beautiful stairs leading to the second storey, their living room to the left of me, their dining room on my right. Bookshelves lined their walls, golden trimmed books glittering in the light of their entrance chandelier. 
It wasn’t long before Tenya came back, a grey bath towel with him. He put it around my shoulders, telling me to dry off before he disappeared into the dining room. I pulled the warm towel to myself, covering my face with it in embarrassment. My legs started shaking as my thoughts wandered, tears threatening again. 
I could hear light whispering from where Tenya had gone, a woman’s voice questioning, then Tenya’s voice answering. I inhaled sharply, willing my arms to move so I could dry off before he came back. 
Tenya’s footsteps approached, I kept my gaze limited to the floor, my hair blocking the view of anything else, rain lightly dripping down to the mat. I felt my cheeks burning. 
“Come upstairs,” his voice was calm, understanding. “You need to get out of those clothes, take a bath.” 
I only nodded and let his hand grip mine, letting him guide me upstairs, turning a few corners and into his bathroom. 
“I’m going to start a bath, okay?” He waited for my nod before turning on the water.”Feel this, tell me if it’s too hot.”
I stepped towards the bathtub and reached my hand into the water, “it’s good.” 
He sat on the edge of the bathtub while it filled up, hand still in the stream of water to regulate the temperature. 
“Do you wanna tell me why you’re here?” He asked. His voice was soft, not an ounce of annoyance or grievance coming out. 
“I was kicked out,” I spoke. “No more home for me, I guess.” The light chuckle that left my lips turned to a sob and I quickly breathed deep to stop the impending breakdown from happening. 
“What?” His voice now sounded slightly angry, but still filled with kindness. “Why would your parents do this?”
I didn’t say anything, still trying to hold back my tears. I only shrugged my shoulders pathetically as an answer, and he turned the tap off and stood up. 
“Take a quick bath, you can use anything you’d like in here. I’ll wait outside so just knock once you’re done and I’ll bring you some clean clothes, okay?”
I nodded again, then he left. I let the tears fall from my eyes the moment the door shut. The towel fell from my shoulders and I sniffled back as I peeled the clothes off my body. Stepping into the steaming water, skin tingling as it enveloped me, I finally let myself cry. The water smelt of my favourite scent, something I assumed Tenya added while filling the tub. 
I dipped down, fully submerging myself into the water and coming back up for air. I curled into a ball, arms reaching for the bottles of soaps and creams on the tub corners. I started reading what they were through blurry eyes. 
Birch scented shampoo and conditioner, moisturizing body wash, shea butter body scrub. I used the scrub, rubbing it up my arms and silently crying. 
I took a long bath, testing out every product on his bathtub. I heard his brother come to say goodnight to him, asking if I was okay and then leaving once Tenya told him I would be. His mother came to say goodnight with his father, asking what was wrong and asking if I would be here for breakfast tomorrow morning. 
After a while, the water had turned cold and the bathroom smelt like a mix of Tenya. I reached into the tub, pulling its plug and reaching for the towel. I dried my feet off first, stepping onto the tiled floor and then rubbing the rest of my body until it was slightly dry, no longer dripping everywhere. 
I walked up to the door, giving it three light taps. 
“Can I come in for a moment?” Tenya’s voice came. 
“Sure.”
The door handle turned and Tenya walked in, handing me a small pile of warm clothes and then leaving, closing the door shut behind him. 
I dressed myself, then stepped into his hallway. He’d given me dark blue sweatpants and a matching hoodie, both too big for me. I had to pull the drawstring of his sweatpants tightly and tie them into a bow. 
Tenya was waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall dressed in his pajamas. When I stepped out he quickly turned to me, eyes landing on mine as I finally looked up at him. 
“Did you eat dinner?” He asked quietly. I shook my head, no. “Follow me.” He led me down the hall and into his bedroom, which had the bedside lamp on. A mug of hot tea and bowl of soup were placed alongside the lamp, and glass of water with them. He had set up a mattress on the floor of his room, blankets and sheets fitted on it. 
I started to walk towards it, but was caught by Tenya. “No, you take the bed tonight. Have some soup too, please.”
I turned to him. “Tenya, I can’t take your bed. I’ll be fine on the floor.”
“Please,” he begged. I gave in, walking to the bed and gesturing to him that he sit beside me. I sat cross legged as he handed me the bowl of soup. 
“They don’t like me being a hero,” I managed in between spoonfuls of soup. “Not good enough for them.”
He looked at me. “You don’t need to explain if you don’t wish to,” he said.
“It’s okay, that’s really all they said.” I lied. My mother’s shrill scream of, “don’t bother coming back until you can say you’re done disappointing this family,” ringing in the back of my mind. 
I wished I could fool him, but the look in his eye was showing his true disbelief in my lie. His face was left with a frown, teeth chewing on the inside of his lip while he thought. 
“How could you not be good enough for them?” He asked quietly, but not low enough that I missed it. “You’re an excellent student, an even better hero. You save lives, and it’s not good enough for them?” His voice was starting to rise slightly, anger lacing his tone. 
“Iida please,” I tried to get him to lower his voice. “It’s really not a big deal, they just don’t like heroes, that’s all.” 
“A parent is supposed to be a hero, someone who uplifts their kid’s dreams and supports them.” He was at a normal voice level now, his navy eyes locking with mine. “How could they kick you out over your dreams?”
“My parents aren’t like yours,” I whispered to him, “they don’t understand, just please keep it down.” My hand found its place on his before I knew what was happening and he froze slightly, eyes flickering down to his hand before looking back up at me. 
“You’re amazing,” he whispered. “Just know that. I would’ve died a million times if you hadn’t helped me.” 
I smiled at him, “thank you.” 
“Now please finish your soup, it’s late and if you don’t warm up you’ll catch a cold.”
"Okay."
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please take some time to view my masterlist or navigation pages.
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coolprettyleo · 22 days
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picking up the pieces - begin again au
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tw: lowkey cringe
wc: 856
ryan leonard x hughes sister au
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
frankie decided she loved her life. was she manic? maybe.
she walked to class wearing a cute mini skirt feeling like that bitch. with the song rich girl playing feeling a bit main character. she wanted to look good for this class though.
it had been about two weeks since she's seen anyone. avoiding everyone she knew at all cost. she was finally going to her theater class where she sat with will, gabe, and ryan.
she's decided she hates ryan. frankie just felt like he was an asshole trying to convince everyone he was a 'nice guy' when he wasn't. honestly she was just bitter he pushed her away two weeks ago.
frankie usually didn't get rejected so when she did, she would act like they were the plague and they were the most evil person in the world. it was easier to do in her opinion.
ryan had actually been trying to see her since it happened. he had felt horrible for the way she took it. he just wanted her to know that he was in it for the long game and the serious game; a game that frankie wasn't familiar with. but alas frankie thought he was slut shaming her; something that had been haunting Ryan. he would never shame her for that kind of stuff. if anything he found it even hotter of the way she carried herself and how confident she was.
frankie opened the door to her class, running fifteen minutes late. so when the big wooden doors creaked open it caught the attention of a certain hockey trio. she decided to sit with them again due to the fact she wanted them to see she was thriving. even though her life had fallen apart she was still slaying at life. and they needed to see that.
the professor got to talking their ears off as she scrolled through Pinterest. trying to find a new way to stay interesting as she was trying to rebrand her whole life.
she ignored the worried glances each of the three boys would give her throughout the rest of the lecture, trying to desperately keep it together. the professor ended class early, so frankie tried to pack up as quick as possible hoping to not have to converse with the three boys.
"wanna go get chippers with us?" will offered to her. as if nothing happened. she eyed them before giving ryan a nasty look.
"im good, thanks." she said in a bitchy tone as she walked swiftly pass them.
ryan looked at the other two boys with a wince before grabbing his bag, chasing after her.
"frankie wait!" he called as she raced down the steps. not listening to him.
"please stop avoiding me, I never meant for you to take it that way" he said grabbing her bag. he was desperate to talk to her since he had called her, texted her, looked for her, for two weeks straight. this girl was stubborn.
"im not avoiding you, I just dont see a reason for us to all be friends anymore" she said looking at him with her head held high. trying to play a part she oh so desperately wasn't.
"dont say that, we were friends before you got with drew, remember?"
"just leave me alone! I know what you and your friends think about me. why would I want to be around that?"
"that was drew and the rest of them, it was never me, smitty, or gabe" he said reasoning with her.
"I just feel really stupid ryan. overall embarrassed. I mean you were just trying to be nice to me and I got mixed signals and tried to get with you too, no wonder you think im a whore" she said looking away.
"woah- I do not think of you like that- I tried to kiss you too. when I pulled away it was because I wanted us to kiss under way better circumstances. you dont have to be embarrassed whatsoever. its drew who should be, if anything"
"under better circumstances?" she said confused.
"well I mean- I like you. like I wanted to take you out and all that before we kissed. and to be honest, I want you to be over drew before I take you out" he said putting his hands in his pockets blushing profusely.
ryan liked me? since when?
when she had first met the BC boys she originally wanted to hook up with ryan, but he didn't look like he showed her any interest so she moved on too drew.
"I don't think your over him yet though. and thats fine, im in it for the long game and ill wait, but in the mean time I still want to be friends, I still want to see you, so please join us to chippers" ryan added on after she had looked deep in thought.
she contemplated weather joining them or not. she wss hungry. and she did love chipotle. and its not like she had any other friends.
"ill go" she said after a second as ryan grinned.
it had always been hard for frankie to keep a grudge.
"and by the way, im so over him. he gives me the ick" she said they walked towards chipotle.
"I'll believe it when I see it, princess" he said grabbing her bag.
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qvrcll · 3 months
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Hi hi—ur Corio works have me in the tightest of chokeholds. Probably the most beautifully articulated writing I’ve seen in a min on here.
Was thinking ab peacekeeper!Corio getting hot and bothered over headpeacekeeper!reader…he’d just be so frustrated that someone so pretty could have power over him in more ways than one…I just know you’d do this Justice
🪼
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nsfw, power-play + dark themes
i love this prompt because power is arguably coriolanus snow’s deepest, most dirtiest pursuits. he’s got his hands filthy with the promise of it and there’s no stopping a monster when you’ve already begun to feed it a routine.
but the thing with power is: it has its price. and the cost he pays for it so happens to be to rebrand himself within the districts, no less than a peacekeeper. so, when he quickly learns of the power system within all peacekeeper formations, he grows agitated. less with the idea of conduct and more with the idea of you. the pretty head-peacekeeper who seems to not be so keen with familiarity, choosing a certain bite in your words and nothing of the warmth of summer in your attitude. really, it’s all rough ends for him.
but the hardest part? he’s willing to chase those measly ends to explore you more. to map you out like a fortress he can monopolise, a clean target to hit with a blunt bullet. easy fodder. it’s all quick work to a snow - so why is he all red-eared and shaking from head to boot when you pull him into your dingy little office, somehow humiliating him more than what he begun with?
“i need you to get off your capitol horse and work, snow,” you spit in his face one afternoon, a sharp finger dotting into his chest like a pain, “not give me reasons as to why you very well deserve to be here.”
“yes.” (he wants to wring your neck.)
“yes, what?” your face is screwed into a sour frown.
“yes, head peace-keeper.” (he feels a blood vessel popping.)
“god, you’re pathetic.”
and he wants to be mad. wants to channel the strength of the very many mutts that mr gaul has eating away in her lab. wants to show you power as he knows it, dirty and selfish and so willingly like him. but his desire runs rampant - a cruel thing, an animal that he shelters beneath all his bones and teeth and blood. a thing fed with the premonitions of you so desperately that there is hunger where there is hate. desire where there is repulsion. craving where there is an itch. and so, he can’t seem to stop when his body lurches forward and his kiss begins to register as a heavy slash and all spit against your mouth.
he catches the shiver of your mouth against his as you pull away, and in the same breath, his own repulsion at what he has done. the billboards would have the last laugh, and those back home would bundle up the paper to take a closer look: coriolanus snow exiled for advancements on head-peacekeeper! read now!
“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to-“ he starts, but you’re quick. out-do him in both speed and wit, as your arm knocks against his rib and holds him in place, so much so that his breath comes out in wheezes. really, you hold considerable muscle on you, so the effort comes as little to none. and still, there’s anger in your eyes.
“didn’t mean to, what? kiss me? i think even a snow is capable of knowing the levels to this,” you spit into his hair, your arm now a painful intrusion against his lungs. he coughs, tries to keep composure but fails at it. his lungs don’t support much of him, and you’re still talking, “i know you can talk.”
“didn’t mean it,” his voice is barely a breath, and when you tighten your arm against him, he’s almost keeling over his knees had you not been holding him up against the wall like fodder, an easy target.
“here, snow, i’ll show you what you can mean,” you spit and before he can even begin to give it much thought, your lips are against his again. all too violent, too, when your teeth bash against his and you nearly rip the fabric of his uniform in an effort to stumble back into the heat of your office. neat, laid out and soon, coming apart at the hinges as you mash him against the back of the door and kiss him till tears begin to form.
funnily, his brawn means nothing when he’s willingly stripping in seconds, staggered and chasing after your lips when you pull away.
you use words to taunt him, barks of “keep your hands here” or “do you want me to stop?”, forcing him to comply and keep his hands at his sides, where he will have little chance to touch you. little chances at his dirty little attempts at power as you palm the hitch in his trousers, watching in amusement when he hisses and begins fuck upwards like some cheap-whore. and when he looks up, it’s almost laughable how the power that he will go sore at the limbs to possess, leaves him in some very minutes.
“fuck - fuck - please,” he whines, no shame in the way he bucks his hips up into the flesh of your hand, his dick already a twitching and wet mess as it may stirring in your grip. a few pumps and he’s already crowding the floor with his hands, his limbs, a large attempt to remember that he hates you, he hates this, he hates the pleasure you give him and - his dick spurts against his stomach, livening the air with the heat of his release and…
…wait, did he come that quick?
“fuck,” you rasp, running a finger against his stomach and collecting the stuff that remains in silvery flecks on the stretch of skin. you watch as humiliation dawns on him, power not so much as a concern as his pride, “should we see if you can last longer?”
and within the shine of your eyes, the reflection of his half naked form reflected in them, covered in his spent and breathing like there are two holes shot within his lungs, he can sense the price he has begun to pay.
yes, he takes you up on that offer.
thank you so much for the request!! + your interest in my works, im so thankful :)
© 2023 qvrcll. do not repost any of my works on any platform.
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trans-axolotl2 · 1 year
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Fuck the DSM. Seriously, fuck the DSM.
The DSM is and always has been used primarily as a method of rationalizing mistreatment of the people it labels as "deviant." When you look at the history of psychiatry, it becomes clear that things like drapetomania, protest psychosis, hysteria, and homosexuality as a disorder were not just thrown into there randomly. Rather, it showcases the power of the DSM: labeling and categorizing ways of being as mental illness opens up new paths of incarceration, social control, and curative violence. I need people to understand that the modern DSM still works like this: these classifications of madness/mental distress/neurodivergence into psychiatric labels encourage society to treat madness/mental distress/neurodivergence with the apparatuses used to eradicate "deviance." Diagnosis is not neutral.
As mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people, we deserve access to more explanatory models of madness/mental illness/ neurodivergence than what the psychiatric language of normalcy and disorder offers us. Whether this looks like rejecting diagnosis, embracing varying cultural understandings of mental experience, or any million different ways of interpreting our bodymind, we deserve the option to move beyond clinical language that tries to convince us not to trust ourselves. We deserve to view ourselves wholly, leaving room for all our experiences of madness/mental illness/neurodivergence--the meaningful, the terrifying, the joyful, the exhausting. We deserve to have our own relationship with our madness, instead of being pushed to view ourselves as an inherent "danger to self or others" simply by existing as crazy.
Here's another truth: I hate the DSM, and I still call myself bipolar, a diagnosis that came to me through psych incarceration. While I wholeheartedly reject the DSM and the system intertwined with it, I simultaneously acknowledge and believe that many of the collections of symptoms that the DSM describes are very, very real ways of living in the world, and that the distress that they can cause are very very real. When I say fuck the DSM, I don't mean "Mental distress, disability, and neurodivergence aren't real." Rather, I mean that the DSM can never hold my experience of what it is like to be bipolar, the meaning I derive from experiencing life with cyclical moods. The DSM can't hold within its pages what it's like to see my mood cycle not as a tragedy or disaster, but instead as an opportunity, a gift, to grow and shift and go back to the same place over and over again, dying in winter and blooming again in spring. The DSM can't hold the fact that even though I experience very, very real distress due to those mood cycles--they're still mine and I claim that as something that matters to me. I call myself bipolar as a shorthand to tell people that I experience many things both extreme high and low, but I do not mean the same thing when I say "bipolar" as a psychiatrist does.
When we build community as mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people, I want us to have room to share, relate, and care for each other in ways that isn't calling to the authority of a fucked up system with strictly defined categories. I don't want us to take those same ways of thinking and rebrand it into advocacy that claims to fight stigma, but really just ends up reinforcing these same ideas about deviance, cure, control, and danger. I dream of the day when psychiatry doesn't loom as a threat in all of our lives, and I think part of that work requires us as mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people to really grapple with and untangle the ways we label and make meaning of our minds.
ok to reblog, if you want to learn more about antipsychiatry/mad studies check out this reading list.
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zjpg · 7 months
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just a girl
'cruel'
last - m.list - next
[april - imola - a lot of writing again]
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"these crutches are killing me." addi let out a sigh, sitting in the chair and handing her crutches to her brother before massaging the area where they had left her sore. kelly chuckled a little bit at the much younger girl.
"it's great that you're here, i didn't think you'd be here." the wag spoke up, drinking and from her glass as the tv in front of them shows off the drivers doing their warm-up lap. addi shrugged, eyes glued to the tv, "yeah, my doctor wanted to make sure i was perfectly okay, travel doctors seem to take the most time," she chuckled "but i wanted to be here."
"i tried telling her not to come." claire spoke up and sat on the other side of addi. "watching this is gonna send her into a depression."
kelly nodded slowly, thinking, "or it could motivate her to stay rested so she can get checo out of here faster." she smiled brightly.
perez isn't exactly addi's favorite person in the world. originally, she had no issues with the older driver, not until he spoke badly about her when she gained her seat.
to understand the dynamic of their... rivalry, you have to understand the timeline. in 2019, pierre was the second driver for red bull. but after some incidents, it was in the talk that he wouldn't be staying with them after the 2019 season. this was in the talks very early on in the season, even before summer break. in the beginning, red bull was looking at checo, he was experienced, not half bad, he would make a great second driver. they were just about to sign contract with sergio when they started hearing word about addilyn joining ferrari as a reserved driver.
red bull has had their eye on addi for a long time at this point, they were hoping to sign her to alphatauri in 2020, just in time for the rebranding and time for addi to go through a season of f2. but if she signed as a reserve driver for ferrari there's no way she'd leave that for alphatauri. why? well because it was well known that ferrari was her goal, charles, who she had grown up with, would be her teammate after sebastian left or retired. not to mention the leclerc's and leblanc's have held an obvious love for ferrari since... well always.
they had a few attempts at gaining both checo and addi, first they tried the alphatauri deal, a guaranteed seat in formula 1. but she turned that down because she would've rather had ferrari. then they tried a a reserve driver deal for red bull. but she said no to that too. the only way to secure addi was a guaranteed seat with red bull.
and though the decision was hard for both addi and red bull, they both agreed. addi figured it was better than waiting years to drive, and if all goes bad she was promised a reserve driver title with ferrari still.
perez was obviously very unhappy, having that his relationship with racing point was done for after 2019. so red bull gave him a reserved seat. he only agreed because he believed that addi wouldn't last long in formula 1, let alone red bull.
but he always made sure people knew how unhappy and disgusted he was by addi's success. he's said things about how women should stay in the kitchen, how it'd be embarrassing to be beat by a woman, and so much more. and though his statements never made much noise, mainly because perez isn't all that cared about, it still made it's way back to addi to hear.
now here we are today, addilyn is injured, and sergio is in her seat. she's not really a happy camper. but he sure as hell is.
she watches the race, watching hamilton and verstappen battle it out. it's weird watching formula 1 from this point of view again after racing in it for a year. it's actually quite depressing to her. she feels like she's letting people down, letting herself down. and she's is scared that perez will take her seat. experienced, older driver versus a young girl with a sprained ankle at the moment. and she knows it's temporary, but the thought of it, the reality of it displayed in front of her, it made her sick to her stomach.
max came out on top, cheers erupted as he crossed the finish line. her brother helped her walk down so she can cheer and congratulate her teammate after he climbs out of the car. they stand at the barrier as she watches lando cross the line right after hamilton. p3 for norris. and she's suddenly remembering the other day. her heart feels like it's matching the same speed as her red bull.
"and what's stopping us from getting together?" he asked, leaning closer, looking in her eyes. he looks great, amazing actually. it's crazy how he can make something as simple as a hoodie with his own brand on it look so good. she swallows the lump that's stuck in her throat, looking down at her fingers as they pick at each others skin.
"pierre and arthur." she said, just above a whisper. she felt like a pile of shit, how could she do this to them. three boys have stolen her heart in ways she didn't think was possible, and now she's stuck with the aftermath of it. lando nods slowly, not pulling or looking away, but his face changes in a way she could not describe. "i'm sorry."
"you don't have to be sorry." he smiled at her a little, she loves his smile. along with his dimples, or maybe it's only one dimple, his smile drew her in from the moment they met. he's a charming man, a bit cheeky and sarcastic. "i'll wait for you."
she felt her heart flutter at his words. how could someone put themselves through that wait knowing there's two other men doing the same thing?
"until then! i'll be getting your coffee's and fluffing your foot pillow." he smiled and stood up, grabbing her coffee glass and returning to the kitchen to refill the glass with the cold brew.
she still feels like crap for that day, and it's safe to say she feels awkward around lando because of it, but he's assured her many times not worry about it. that it isn't her fault. but she felt like it was. how could she let herself fall so deep.
she smiled and clapped as the three cars pulled up to their spots, red bull parks behind the 1, then mercedes, then mclaren. she suddenly remembers that no one knows she's there, even her own team was shocked to see her as she squeezed past to get to the front beside kelly. max stands on top of the hood, celebrating, then hopping down. he does the usual run to the team, jumping into their arms as he walks over to her and kelly, hugging his girlfriend as she kisses his helmet, classic. then he reaches addi,
"you made it! oh my god!" he cheer and hugged her with a smile plastered on his face before he was rushed to move on. the drivers all weighed themselves, lewis smiling and waving at addi, meanwhile she hasn't caught lando's eye. she was asked for interviews after the podium celebration, and she was hesitant at first but she gave in after some time. she was in the middle of an interview when lando came up behind her and hugged her gently, being sure not to hurt her or make her fall.
"oh lando norris! hello!" the interviewer laughs and smiles "congratulations!"
"thank you." he smiles and lets go of the girl, standing next to her, "i didn't know you were here."
"i showed up during the warm-up lap, my doctor tried to stop me but, i wasn't gonna miss it." she laughed as he rolled his eyes and hugs her one more time, "congrats, norris." she smiled
"thank you, i have to go, i'll talk to you later." she nods at him before he walks away and she continues the interview.
charles got p4, but he didn't get word that she was there until after the interviews. or well, in the middle of an interview when he was asked if he had seen her yet. "i didn't know she was here!"
he literally ran to red bull to go see her, lucky him, she was outside with her nolan and claire. he runs up and hugs her, "i thought you weren't coming!"
"i tried stopping her." claire huffed. "the doctor didn't even want her to come,"
"why are you here?" charles glared at the young girl in his arms, she only rolled her eyes. she didn't want to miss a single race, even if she couldn't be the one on the podium, even if she wasn’t sweating like a porous pitcher on an italian summers day inside her helmet, she wanted to be there. over the past year, these people have become her family, even more than before. she didn't want to miss that.
the ride home in her brother's range rover was depressing. she sat in the backseat with her foot raised up on the empty seats next to her and a book in hand. arthur always made fun of her for reading in the car, mainly because he didn't understand how she could. she misses arthur. she hasn't seen or talked to him or pierre still, she's not really sure why anymore. she's talked to charles, lando, seb, now max and kelly. what's the point?
part of her is scared to ever since her conversation with lando, she's scared to find out how she actually feels about them. she's unsure what answer would be best in this situation. what if she likes arthur?. there's the possibility of them breaking up and a possibility that lando and pierre stop talking to her, broken friendships. and if she likes pierre? broken friendships. lando? broken friendships.
loving can be so cruel.
taglist: @love4lando @fairiepoems @leilanixx @ietss @charli123456789 @ayoanna @enhacolor @be-your-coffee-pot @alixnsuperstxr@vellicora@tpwkstiles@lndonrris @willowpains @gaslysainz @blueanfield
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blindmagdalena · 1 year
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Any hcs for homie with a very affectionate s/o, but who still tells him bluntly when they disagree with him? Like when deciding on the slogan, "saving the world" vs "saving America" maybe they openly say saving the world is the better choice
There are a great many things Homelander loves about you.
For instance, the way you hug him for no reason at all. In his prior experiences, hugs have only ever been an uncomfortable formality, or a transaction. The first time you put your arms around him without prompt, he was baffled enough to ask, "What's going on?" To which you simply answered, "I just wanted a hug. Is that okay?" He still smiles when he thinks about the way you looked at him when you said that. He answered, "Yeah. Yeah, sure. 'Course it's okay."
He loves the casualty of your intimacy. There's no thought or hesitation in the way you touch him. He loves that he can make you laugh so hard, there are tears rolling down your cheeks. He loves that you love him without reservation.
Something he doesn't particularly love is the ease and nonchalance with which you are constantly engaging him in full on verbal combat.
"It's not better, it's just your preference," he says, jaw tight.
You have the audacity to laugh. You're not supposed to laugh during a fight. "Okay, fine, I prefer 'saving the world,'" you say, but just as he eases at your acquiescence, you add "Because it's better."
He bristles all over again. "Why are you so intent on fighting with me?"
"Are we fighting?" You ask, brows furrowing. You look genuinely confused at that. Your posture shifts with the change in his tone. "I was under the impression we were having a conversation."
Homelander lifts his hands in an incredulous gesture. "Conversations are pleasant. You know, about the weather, or what you had for lunch, or, I don't know, complimentary! Nice! Not this-this continual dissention!"
"Dissention?" You echo, flabbergasted. "What am I, your crew aboard the Enterprise? I'm not one of your underlings," you say, frowning. He hates that look on your face. "I know that," he scoffs. He tries not to hear the petulance in his own voice. "It'd just be nice if you could be supportive once in awhile." "That's not fair," you say. Christ, it's getting worse. You're not angry with him, you sound disappointed. He'd prefer your anger. "I don't have to agree with you all the time to support you. Do you want me to lie to you? Mindlessly agree with everything you say like some kind of sycophant?" Homelander purses his lips, tapping his fingers rapidly on the armrest of his chair. Of course he doesn't want that. He despises being lied to. "No," he says eventually, realizing you aren't going to give him an out from this.
"Okay. Good," you say, which he feels a modicum of relief at. However, as he watches you get up, he's hit with a spike of anxiety; are you leaving? He's ready to snap, to tell you to sit back down and sort this out, to talk until he feels better, but he has to choke it all back when you make your way right to him and drop sideways into his lap.
Your expression is stern, focused, but there's a gentle curve to your lips. He feels the churning in his stomach ease with the weight of you, but despite the comfort your touch brings, he's grumpy enough that he doesn't immediately put his arm around you the way he normally would.
"I love you," you say. It's an immediate balm to his scorched ego. "I love you when we agree. I love you when we disagree. And for the record, I do agree with you plenty. Remember those awful Preparation H2O sticks they were pitching for The Deep? The ones shaped like dolphins?" Homelander can't maintain his sour attitude at that, he huffs a laugh. "Christ, as if they needed to associate him with the image of sticking one of those up his ass." You laugh, too. The sound is music to his ears. "Mmmhm, you and I rebranded the whole deal. We're a team. It doesn't mean we always have to agree, but we do have to respect each other. We have to love each other. Okay?"
"Okay," he echoes, less sullen and more just a touch pouty. He slides both of his arms around your waist, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You kiss the top of his head, carding your fingers through his hair. "Love you, too."
"Good," you say, smiling. "So... Save the world?"
"No," he growls through his own little grin, nipping at your throat until you squirm and break into ticklish peals of laughter, trying to push out of his iron grasp to no avail. "Clearly I need to put a little more American appreciation into you, if you catch my drift."
You groan loudly, fighting back the giggles. "Oh my god, why do I even like you?"
"I'll remind you," he purrs, hands slinking across your body as he catches you in a kiss.
Homelander tells himself that maybe the occasional disagreement isn't so bad, especially if it always results in these kind of assurance and make out up sessions.
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WIBTA for kicking my brother out?
Long story short, last year I (24) got my own apartment, it's literally only a 1 bedroom; I got it myself without a cosigner, I paid an entire year of rent up front, and I paid a triple deposit because it's my first lease anywhere, and I've never asked anybody to help me pay any of the bills, I even moved all my furniture in completely by myself without help from anybody including my mom or her stinky husband (32, ew) or my brother (19)
I lived here by myself for about 4 months when my brother and my mom's stinky husband got into a fight
(it was Stinkys fault, he was starting shit with all my moms kids and my brother was just the only one aggressive enough to put him in the hospital like he deserved, but my mom defended him and lied to the court so he wouldn't be deported, he's her only source of income atm because of her disability)
anyways, my brother went to juvie for a few months and the courts say he and Stinky can't live in the same house together anymore, since this happened a few days after he graduated high school, they decided to not try him like an adult for the sentence, BUT if he breaks the restraining order, he will be tried like an adult; so my mom asked if my brother could live with me for a few DAYS so she could get her own place, for her and her kids (including the brother STILL IN MY HOUSE), and divorce Stinky-mcgee
I agreed to do it under the radar because I would have to pay a huge fee to add him to my lease, but it's against my lease to have him here this long without adding him...and my apts are trying to rebrand as "luxury" to raise rent, so they're kicking people out left and right for very minor offenses like smoking cigarettes indoors or hanging clothes on their balcony, things TECHNICALLY against the lease but REALLY stupid. (and charging new people more than what the people being kicked out were paying)
they will 100% evict me if I don't pay to add him to my lease if they find out, so I can't even call the maintenance man (he's a snitch, he already snitched on me for having more pets than I said I did). So I can't get my AC fixed and its 110°F outside rn...if I get evicted, I don't have any savings and I will be homeless, BUT ANYWAYS
it's been 7months, and my mom hasn't even LOOKED for an apartment,
my brother has 3 jobs and a car, but instead of looking for an apartment he spends all his money on his girlfriend (20), and video games, and shoes (I get that he's still a teen, so he wants teen things), but he won't even pay for the grocery bill if I ask (I only ask for groceries, the CHEAPEST bill, since I work with food, I rarely eat at home anyways, so it's mostly HIS groceries) and he always says he doesn't have enough money
I am at my fuckin limit tbh,
but I'm not sure if he could get an apt the same way I did with his conviction history (he's been to juvie like 6 times for different things), and my mom has been evicted so many times for fighting people that I doubt she could co sign if they look into her renters history; and my older brother (27) won't co sign or take him in because he says my brother isn't reliable enough, and he doesn't want to take the financial hit if my brother gets arrested again and can't pay rent... (the other kids are still school age, so they don't count)
he's old enough to go to a shelter, but we use to live in a shelter for YEARS after a tornado took out our house and our dad, and he took it the hardest, so I think living in a shelter might be a trigger for him(?)...so I kinda feel bad for suggesting it(?)
WIBTA if i just packed his shit, put it in his car, and told him to go to either his girlfriends house or a shelter?
(I kinda feel shitty for even thinking of it tbh)
What are these acronyms?
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maxybabyy · 5 months
Text
inspired by this gif
He shows her a photo first. It’s not the one that he ends up ordering, but it’s close enough; the same pleated skirt but the cut of the shirt is different, the colour scheme changed too. Max, half distracted by the sim race she’s trying to join, says, “This is of course very American of you, Daniel.”
“Yeah? Did you bring the ears from last year then?” He asks and makes her squeeze further into the corner until there’s almost no space between them. “Gonna be a kitty cat again, Maxy?”
“For this, I will need also the –“ she says after squinting at the screen. She claps her hands enthusiastically and throws them up in a high V, the controller left in her lap. “The sparkly things for my hands, no? I think this will be very important, Daniel.”  
“I will get you some pompoms, baby.” He says, pulls her into a kiss when her hands still haven’t come down. “Maybe then you can do a little routine for me, yeah? Show me who you’re really cheering for?”
In the end, Max is let into the discord call and is allowed to join the race – even if she is away from her sim set-up. Daniel sits beside her and looks through uniform options, tries not to lose himself in the images of her on her knees, skirt spread wide over her thighs as she sucks his cock.
Max has a last-minute shoot with Red Bull, so he meets up with some of the others for a drink or two before the party.
It’s fine, if a bit uneventful. None of them has put much effort into their costumes. Alex looks great, but only when his girlfriend stays close enough to add complexity to the otherwise bland costume.
Max has been live blogging the shoot in their texts, another fluff piece to take the heat off Checo’s race in Mexico. And then at the end, sent just over an hour ago, a picture of the pompoms Daniel had made sure to order resting on a wide shot of Max’s thigh in the backseat of a car.
Daniel hadn’t replied, didn’t see it until now, but. He goes, downs the cup of shitty but expensive vodka and makes his excuses to Lando, who hasn’t stopped staring at both Oscar and Carlos at either end of the room like he’s at a fucking tennis match.
Max has her own drink in hand when he finds her, straw sucked deep in her mouth as she nods at whatever Charles is saying. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s obviously having a good time if the way she’s smiling is anything to go by. She must know he’s watching because she turns to look at him, eyes bright as she waves the pompom at him.
She looks fucking amazing.
The uniform fits perfectly, and even with the sensible white long sleeve that she’s wearing underneath, she looks fucking hot. When it came in the mail, he hadn’t told her it was a Chicago Bulls costume; the ‘Bulls’ on her chest the closest thing to Red Bull he could find. But he looks at her now and thinks, ‘Maybe they should do a rebrand.’
She’s wearing the same sneakers that she always is, black and practical, and her hair is tied back in her usual high pony, only this time with a striped ribbon instead of a beige hair tie. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but Max has always been in a league of her own. In racing, in life, in Daniel’s heart –
“Hey there, pretty lady,” he says and leans in close when Charles has escaped with a choked-up laugh. “I would offer you a drink, but someone already beat me to it, huh?”
Max lets out a laugh, shakes her head. “We are of course not in Austin anymore, Daniel.”
There’s a smushed ‘3’ painted on her cheek in red; the font unlike what is usually used for jersey numbers, and instead oddly reminiscent of what it would look like on the RB19.
“Did you come here from the big game too?” He asks instead and puts a hand on her waist, his thumb poking under the fabric to rest against her skin. “Bet your team won real easy with all the attention on you, pretty girl. Hardly any eyes on the ball, I reckon.”
“Daniel! It was only golf with Checo. Always, he was very interested in the game, I think, but –“
Daniel breaks her off with a kiss when he cannot help himself anymore, pulls her closer to his chest for a moment before he steps back. “Did you come here with a boyfriend? A friend, maybe?”
Max stares at him, teeth biting into a lip that must have been painted red once. There’s still a bit of lipstick left, maybe there’s something on him now too. She must see something in his face, because she says, flushed, “Tonight, it is just me from the – the big game, of course.”
“Yeah? No quarterback waiting for you at home? I bet you looked hot cheering for your team,” he says, looks at the hand now wrapped around his neck, the pompom resting loosely against his chest. Max gives it a little shake over her head, the rustle loud in their tiny self-imposed space.
“It was a very lovely game, that,” Max hums, rubs at the eye black on his cheek. “The team, I think, is very good this year. We can of course win the ra – “ she takes a sip of her drink to hide the stumble, glares at Daniel when he laughs at her. “I can do the pyramid very well, so we will win the next match also.”
Daniel does want to hear more about Max’s ideas of cheerleading competitions, of the trophies and championships she would have won in that too. But more than that, he wants to drag her into the bathroom and make her come; fuck her open and loose so when they get back to the hotel, he can fuck her right.
“That’s your type then? Athletes?” He asks. He doesn’t kiss her, but he wants to, knows she wants it too. But they’re so close, almost there.
“It is very hot, I think, when they are also into the sport,” she says, her breath hitching when his free hand finds its way under her skirt, to the almost non-existent thong she has on. “When they are very good, I think that is very lovely also.”
“Do you have a favourite? Someone you’re just dying to meet, to fuck?”
Max whines softly, presses against the leg Daniel has shoved in between her thighs, “You are so stupid Daniel,” she says, breathy and hoarse. “You look of course very handsome in your little outfit, but always race car drivers are the –“
He kisses her, doesn’t let her finish. 
They’ve strayed from the plan; from the loose script he had in his head. But Daniel doesn’t care, feels greedy with it that even in this – drunk and unserious as they pretend to be people they aren’t – Max still cannot pick someone else, someone who isn’t fully and completely him.
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soup-scope · 8 months
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DUN DUN!
You have been bitten by the mutual virus. To cure yourself, you must provide one reason why you follow each of your mutuals before sending this to others (whether mutuals or not) while in anon.
Good luck!
This… is gonna be so long…..
@star-sheeps : absolutely fucking hilarious. i always catch myself giggling whenever i see one of ur posts!! i also loved the ‘styling the listeners’ lil series u were doing i love fashion content sm. you were also one of the first people i followed when i first joined the redacted fandom🫡🫡
@caramel-metal : you somehow find the funniest shit to ever exist. your blog is a genuine gold mine for content i would’ve have seen otherwise it’s so‼️‼️‼️‼️
@taelonsamada : i thought it was a mistake when u followed me back 😭😭 but ī absolutely ADORE your writing. i constantly find myself rereading between me you and the fence post ehehehe. i’m gonna be ordering your new book soon and i’ve been vibrating at a frequency that’s impossible to witness with the naked eye (translation: im very excited)
@davidsfanclub : ANOTHER PERSON THAT MAKES ME GIGGLE. i loved ur angel design the first time i saw them and it’s genuinely infected and rotted my brain like THATS how i see angel too now omg. a very creative mind that makes me want to nibble on it
@artbykays : another person who i thought followed me back by mistake. *THE* best listener designs omg. THE ANGEL DESIGN EVER. AAAAAAAAAAAA. i genuinely love ur redacted art sm i had heart palpitations the day u followed me back
@basiliskbrews : another one of my first moots!!! i love citrus with a burning passion. i witnessed u rebrand ur blog and i still absolutely adore all and any content you put out. your vega and warden design has me frothing and convulsing on the ground like a fish abandoned on a deck.
@mothmayhem : I MISS YOU💕💕💕 another moot that has me giggling and kicking my feet. constantly has me twirling my hair and laughing ehehehe. i still can’t get over how you CALLED the david and asher proposals like dawg. how
@beedoes-stuff : GIGGLE ALERT. aka another moot that makes me laugh my ass off. not only do u post absolute bangers you have a tendency to reblog them too and i always have to put my phone down for a few mins
@themonotonysyndrome : it took me three tries to spell ur user right. we got another castin lover in this house 🤝🤝 i want to bite you on the head and then maul you. (all said with love and extreme amounts of affection) I LOVE HOW U TALK ABOUT BRIGHT AAAAA. i want to take a gigantic chunk out of ur writing i love it sm it has me rolling around and flailing
@falkea : MISS YOU💕💕. THE ANGEL DESIGN THAT EXECUTED ME ON THE SPOT. i hit the floor when u followed me back like my mouth was AGAPE. your quinn and darlin art genuinely changed my brain chemistry i will never be the same. a very big art inspiration for me. i shake with anticipation whenever i wait for ur next posts.
@vaselinepot : sometimes all you need is a silly lil moot who says the funniest shit unprompted. sometimes i have to put my phone down and breathe. i miss u vaseline come home
@darlin-collins : ANOTHER MOOT THAT MAKES ME LAUGH. YALL ARE FUNNY AS FUCK. however whenever you talk about the imperium i have to mentally prepare myself to be mentally and physically crushed.
@jollyfang : I LOVE THE REDACTED ART SM AAAAAA. another person who’s follow sent me into cardiac arrest. THE GAVIN DESIGN THAT HAD ME SWEATING. i love how you draw portraits it has me falling in love with ur art all over again when i see that u post.
@thevqid : i think we need to sit down and have a talk. idk about what. i just know that one of us isn’t leaving that room alive. said with all the love i can possibly muster. i love u tho💕💕
@beemybella : genuinely one of the sweetest people i’ve ever interacted with. i love being on ur tag list smth whenever you post it tosses me out of artblock and FILLS me with inspiration 💕💕
@konnorhasapen : PIRATE AU PIRATE AU AAAAAAAAA. i love your writing sm i need to be beaten back with a stick. i’m going to fist fight with you in a parking lot one of these days. i’m so glad you made it back into ur account. i love u sm from afar i feel like a maiden waiting for her husband to return home from the war.
@bratty-telepath : so shape. so shape. i love how stylized your work is. make an art book. please. graphic design IS your passion like pls spare some good character designs and interesting layouts for the rest of us. another moot who id be down the fist fight. this is a fight that i know id get my ass kicked during tho. like my body bent at angles no one is capable of. said with love ofc
@lovesstateofmatter : i always forget we’re moots until you interact with my shit and i bounce around for 5 minutes straight. YOUR BLAKE AND ELLIOT ART. I STILL THINK ABOUT IT. that’s fr how i imagine them now 😭😭
@friendly-waffles : TANKTANKTANKTANKTANK I LOBE UR TANK DESIGJ SM AAAAAAA. AND ANGEL AAAAA. i want to bite your art and SHAKE like a rabid animal. i think about ur sam and darlin art daily. i hit the floor when we became moots
@peraltuki : THE WWDITS X REDACTED VIDS 😭😭 we joined the redacted tumblr at like the same time so i feel a bonded connection to u. ily. you have the best fucking posts they have me sobbing on the floor (cause i giggle too hard)
@doodleanddie : your redacted doodles killed me, sent me to heaven, then dragged me back down to hell and then reincarnated me as a fly. i love ur art and all ur doodles have so much character it’s WILD. (i miss u💕)
@epsi-l0n - your thoughts are so incredibly big brained i want to pick apart ur brain and take a few bites while i’m at it. i think if we fought it’d be the battle of the ages. simply because i think we both *CANT* fight so it’d just be entertaining to every witness
@dollvre : VINCENT STAN HIIIIII. finding another vincent lover and taylor swift enjoyer in this fandom had my brain exploding. tell me what zsakuva videos i should watch. i’m too indecisive to choose what series i want to get into. i think we need to hold hands and exchange rings 👍
@mrsmiagreer : Niyah i would genuinely kill for you. tell me a name. or names. plural. i would quite literally do anything for you. say the word. BUT I LOVE UR WRITING SM PLS MAKE A TAGLIST PLS
@oceanicwhitetipshark : whenever i feel myself drifting from redacted. i get a notif that you’ve posted and i’m immediately pulled back in by all ur writings and your thoughts. ur genuinely so talented and so incredibly sweet di i’m very glad we’re moots
@kelseadelle : i’ve never loved women more in my entire life. the way u draw has me wanting to sacrifice myself to the nearest woman for no reason other than that they’re a woman. your evie and ranger art. id give anything to be a werewolf.
@romeo-the-homeo : there can only be one trans jackass in the redacted fandom there isn’t enough room for the both of us. we should totally combine our physical forms and ascend to a higher form of being. and then get a wendy’s frosty or smth.
@plutobutartsy : stella. LIGHT OF MY LIFE💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 I LOVE UR DESIGNS SM YOUR ART IS SO BEAUTIFUL I LOVE HOW YOU SEE THE LISTENERS AAAAA. YOUR FAITHFUL DESIGN HAS SHOT ME THROUGH THE HEART ILY AAAAAAA
@clover-46 : whenever smth messy happens i always appear in ur dms 😭😭 i love obsessing over hush with you and giggling in our dms💕💕. YOUR DESIGNS SLAP SO HARD. i hope you know that i think of your milo design on the daily. he’s my little girlfriend and i’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life
@celestecreateschaos : trying to type out ur user gave me an aneurysm. I ALSO MISS GEORDI SM WHERE IS HE. you’re genuinely so funny you constantly have me giggling. i wanna tape an x-ray of ur brain to my wall.
@venuslove-28-replies : HIIIIOIOIIIIOOOOEDIIWIWISIDOW. one of these days i’m going to shake you so hard you come apart like a mr potato head. your art has me wanting to bite you and not let go. all your designs have me AAAAKAOSAIKALA
@peacefullibrarian : i will never get over that one piece of writing u did about lasko and his listener. the “like the fan” has me slamming myself into the ground imagining them interacting. make a tag list. make a tagLIST RN AND ADD ME
@morgansplace : hi king i’m going to evict you from this plane of existence. (translation: i love you and i love how incredibly creative you are. i want to eat ur nails. i think we could solve all the worlds problems if we held hands and spun in a circle until we fell over from dizziness. i think it’d be nice)
@heshheshfish : omw to send u a cease a desist. your walls are very comfortable. i have officially devoured all tress-passers who have crossed my unwelcome path. i only accept offerings in the form of whole blocks of cheddar cheese. (translation: hi hehe)
@teaseat : i don’t think i can genuinely put into words how much i love u tea. you have me CACKLING. and other days you have me needing to put down my phone to take a minute. anyways. IN SO GLAD IM IN UR TAGLIST HEHEHE I LOVE UR WRITING SM AAAAAAA
@deviantaj : you make me want to listen to marina and the diamonds and then kill someone. aj ily. you make me giggle. i think if we were ever put into the same room we’d probably cause a cataclysmic event that no one could ever recover from.
@swanconcerto : HOLLYYYYYYYYYYUEJFJE. ily holly my favorite person to ever exist you have me twirling my hair and giggling i’d give anything to exist in ur presence. holly i am in ur basement.
@messenger-of-stupidity : i love your writing so much it has completely rewired my brain i think we should tussle outside and then hold pinky’s or smth. THE VEGA LOVE>>>>> i wait with baited breath for your vega fic
@shawslut : i love ur blog layout sm how do you do it. we both go by ray/rae so i think maybe we should do a lil dance to decide which ones superior. your geordi fic had me wanting to test the sharpness of my new kitchen knives. i will eat you one of these days.
@4letteraroace : i want to bite your hands so bad bro. i still think about ur darlin dance fic. now i know nothing about dance but i could fucking picture what was going on and it HURT. i think your keyboard deserves to be taken away. it should also be taken away because of how u interact with lemon on a daily basis 😭😭
@milosirlgf : hi jaydyn i think one of these days you’ll genuinely rule the world so pls remember that i am nothing but ur undying servant hi. i’m going to empty my life savings in ur name.
@terrazaurio : YOUR DAVID AND ANGEL DESIGN AAAAAAAAA RAHHHHHHHH. i want to bite someone’s head off. i get horrific cute aggression whenever i see your work. i think if we ever existed in the same section of the universe the space time continuum would collapse
@goodboyaudios : i think we should fist fight.
@tunasfishbowl : i think we should paint each others nails and then watch horror movies. tuna ur designs have me gasping for air on a daily basis i lost my mind when we became moots.
@yoteako : THE LASKO DESIGN EVER. INCREDIBLE WOLF BOY DESIGNS. i lobe how u draw them as grown men. idk if that makes any sense but it does to me. also enlightened me to the idea that is vega and brachium omg the most brain idea ever. when we became moots i breakdanced on the hardwood floor
@echovale052 : HI ECHOOO i’m taking a few chomps out of all of ur works like your art style is so pleasant i wanna EAT IT. i think that if we fought we’d probably end up destroying a few small towns.
@kittyshaw : HI REIIIIIII 💕💕💕💕 genuinely one of my fav people. you have the best takes and omg i love ur headcanons sm. i am going to eat ur brain one of these days. any second you aren’t moving i’m only getting closer
@lovelylonerliterature : i’ve read your cutie/geordi fix it fic an ungodly amount of times. (also a shadows appeal……) i love ur writing and interpretations of the redacted characters so much. your ability to capture angst has me wanting to throw myself into the abyss.
@elisacaleisa : another user i struggled to spell 💔💔. THE BEST MORGAN DESIYJ IVE EVER SEEN THATS MY MAN THATS MY WIFE I LOST MY SHIT M.LWFIIWKSJWIWO. i’m going to bite and shake your gavin design. i think our brains should combine at some point for fun
@sweetlemongrove : Lemon u are the light of my life. please make a taglist and add me to it. i love you. THE LOMLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL. also ur blog layout is so pretty what.
I LOVE YOU ALL MOOTS‼️‼️‼️
(Ok but in all seriousness. This is my first time ever really fully interacting with a fandom and not just lurk. To be able to interact with an incredibly creative and kind fandom has been a pleasure :)))) thank you all for all the work you do!!!!)
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yourjughead · 1 month
Text
Begin Again
Sweet Pea X Reader Oneshot
Synopsis: Sweet Pea is longing to have you be his again after a drunken mistake he made a few years ago.
A/N: Short-ish, fluffy.
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“Pea, do we have to do this every day?”
“Only until you say yes YNN” the tall Serpent practically towered over you as he leaned across the Whyte Wyrm bar top where you polished glasses.
“SP, give it a break, you're sounding desperate” Fangs smirked at his best friends daily ritual, sliding onto a barstool next to him.
“I'm just looking for another chance is all”
“Pea one of these days I'm gonna roll my eyes so hard at you I'm gonna go blind” you gently patted his shoulder smilingly before moving down the bar to take another Serpents drink order. Jugheads birthday party getting into the full swing of things.
“You've worked so hard to get back to this place SP, are you sure you want to risk losing it all again”
“Fangs, I just know we're supposed to be more but maybe it's time to just call it” Sweet Pea watched your outline drift into the sea of Serpents as you moved from behind the bar with a tray of drinks. You had known one another for over two decades, raised in the shadow of this very bar. Partners in crime with a healthy dose of one-sided outwards pining but mutual feelings. The two of you had dated before, it crashing and burning almost two years ago.
Sweet Pea scanned the room, his gaze landing on Veronica Lodge, laughing with her Riverdale counterparts.
“Ugh I know that look” Fangs followed his glance before taking a swig from his drink.
“What?”
“That's the, let me jump on the next thing that moves and pretend it's yn because that's who I really want but can't have, look”
“Sounds like it needs a rebrand” Sweet Pea chuckled in return before pushing off the bar and strolling over to reacquaint himself with the raven haired girl boss. He squished into the booth alongside the Northsiders and began to work his magic on Veronica as you rejoined Fangs at the bar, apron and drink in hand.
“Finished for the night YNN?”
“Yeah, right on time to watch that trainwreck” you plastered a smile across your face that didn't quite reach your eyes as you took a deep drink from your glass and threw the apron around the other side of the bar.
“I know you want him back and you're scared what happened…will happen again”
“Woah Dr. Fogarty when's the daytime advice show airing?” you laughed as Fangs joined you. Fangs passed his drink from his hand to yours, taking your empty glass. You tore your eyes from the booth and landed them on Archie Andrews, back fresh from active duty. He moved through the crowd heading back to his friends from the bathroom.
“Oh god, not that look”
“What?”
“That's the, let me jump on the next thing that moves and distract myself from the deep unresolved feelings I have towards Sweet Pea, look”
“A rebrand should be considered” he laughed at you and your similarities to Sweet Pea. He considered a career in behavioural psychology as you sprung from your chair with a fresh drink and swanned over to Archie.
The night took a very drunk turn from there, for all parties involved. Dancing and drinking and shameless flirting were heavy themes of the night. You felt Archie's hands trace your hips as you both swayed to the music growing in volume. Throwing your head back laughing at whatever Archie said, his mouth quickly attached to your neck. Your surprise turned to rising pleasure and then very quickly to shock as the red head was suddenly pulled back from you.
“Hey!”
“Hey yourself Andrews!” Sweet Pea stepped between the both of you, pushing Archie backwards by the chest.
“Sweet Pea leave it” you tried to pull him by the shoulder back only to have him shrug you off and whip around back to you.
“You're being stupid YN” you scoffed at him as Archie began to give out again. Sweet Pea whirled around, his bare fist meeting the side of Archie's jaw. Fangs launched himself from the bar, Jughead following suit, attempting to separate the two of them as they began to brawl. Your head started to swirl from the alcohol, fed up with the boys in front of you, you separated from them, and out the door.
You made it a little way along the road up from the bar as Sweet Peas drunken gait met you.
“YN, where are you going!?”
“Away from you!” You shouted back, matching his tone. He reached you quickly, catching your wrist and turning you to face him.
“Let go of me!”
“YN when are we going to stop pretending you don't still have feelings for me!” His wild eyes searched yours for answers, wishing to not hear what you said next.
“When are you going to stop pretending you didn't hurt me!” You snatched back your wrist and stomped in the direction of home again.
“YN, that was a mistake, a stupid, drunken mistake, she didn't mean anything to me-”
“-then why'd you do it?” You suddenly turned again, bumping into his chest. The street lights cut through the night as you bite back alcohol induced tears.
“I… I don't have any excuses. I've said I'm sorry but I'll say it again, I'll never stop saying it. I made out with that girl. I did and I have never not regretted it, I'm sorry” you looked into his genuine eyes as they dampened with tears. He caught hold of your shoulders and stepped in closer.
“YN, I am sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I said I'd be happy to have you in my life even just as a friend, that I'd make peace with whatever scraps you'd give me but….I need you. I need you to be mine again and I need you to need me” he gulped at the end of his confession and then leaned in to meet your lips. A flush of memories enveloped both of you, warm and comforting, familiar and pure. You separated again, dismay painting your face but not as much as Sweet Pea’s when the palm of your hand sailed across his face.
“That…That was for drunkenly kissing that girl the first night we went long distance” you then shoved him backwards, tears now streaming down your face as you gritted out “That…that was for once again getting behind the walls I built to keep you away” you grabbed the collar of his shirt then, hauling him back to you again. He went willingly, too dumbfounded to put up a fight. You pulled him down to meet your lips again prior to pushing him back, still holding his collar.
“And that…that was for making me want to try again” he gently lowered down your hands, keeping them in his. You rested your head off his chest, he dropped your hands and draped his arms over you, pulling you in. You both stood there for a long time in the glow of the street lights above you.
“Fangs owes me 100$”
“Why?” you laughed into him, reaching for his hand and pulling him into a walk again, not really sure what direction you were heading in.
“He said I'd never wear you down again, bet 100$ two years ago when we started being friends again”
“You owe me half of that” you smiled.
“I owe you everything
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saintmeghanmarkle · 6 days
Text
The long game BRF edition by u/GreatGossip
The long game, BRF edition Sinners, it just struck me that it is now 4 years since Megxit. But if we look at it closely, the last year in particular has been a disaster for the Grifters. No new contracts (except Lemonada, lol), endless attempts at rebranding, countless manifestations of film roles, Madam directing, all kinds of lofty plans.But what have we seen in reality? Madam merching whatever she can get her claws on, Harry doing Rent-A-Royal gigs, Madam paying for speaking and so on.Both Grifters are trying desperatly to cling to the BRF. But really, since the Coronation Harry has had 12 minutes with the king. Madam tries manifesting all kinds of calls, correspondance, invitations etc, but it is all gaslighting. So I posit that the longer the Grifters are away from real royalty the more they will sink into Kardashian fame. And imho the Grifters will never be near real royalty again. Their inevitable demise was just postponed a bit by the Jubilee, the funeral and the coronation. But let us remember that there are no big royal events in the Harkle future. post link: https://ift.tt/QKWx8rO author: GreatGossip submitted: March 22, 2024 at 01:18AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.
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sulfurz · 8 months
Text
ೃ༄ TWENTY TWENTY T’REE (sheamus x fem!reader)
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ೃ༄ PAIRING: sheamus x fem!reader
ೃ༄ REQUESTED BY: anon
Can I have a one shot with sheamus where he’s kinda irritated and speaking loud and fast. Just ranting to his partner and he turns to see her trying not to laugh because she loves his strong accent
ೃ༄ WARNINGS: none (unless u count laughing at his accent. reader is gonna laugh at his accent)
ೃ༄ WORD COUNT: 788
ೃ༄ NOTE: THIS IS VERY SHORT BUT as someone who is dating an irish person…. this is the story of my life don’t get me wrong my girlfriend is the loml but sometimes i do have to ask her to slow down. just read everything in an irish accent pls
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you heard sheamus arrive home before you saw him. the telltale sound of a car door slamming in the driveway gave away how your boyfriend was most likely feeling, so you resigned yourself to readying the comfort as you finished up your work.
you were lazily thrown across the couch, laptop on your thighs as you flicked through spreadsheets for your job. no day off apparently.
as the door to your home opened, you could hear telltale irish muttering that the day hadn’t quite been everything he had wanted it to be. he seemed to kick his shoes off as opposed to place them on the rack neatly, if the banging against the hallway door was a good enough sign.
“i’m home.” then came a tired shout, and you chuckled to yourself at the obvious statement.
“no way.” was your sarcastic response, turning your head just in time to see your boyfriend appear through the doorway, wasting no time in shooting you a (hopefully) playful glare. “welcome home, love.”
for a moment, he cracked a smile through the layers of frustration, walking over to where you sat and leaning down just enough to peck your lips. his hair was still slightly damp from a shower at the training centre, the feeling of it touching your forehead making you shudder momentarily.
“how was training?” you felt vaguely like your were poking the bear, seeing the way his shoulders tensed at the question.
sheamus immediately jumped into busying himself around the room, unpacking his bag and putting everything back in its place. “it was a load of shite. boss man pulled me into his office not even half way t’rough, something about a new storyline that’s entirely bullshite if you ask me.”
you raised an eyebrow, allowing him to move around you as you formatted something on your spreadsheet, noting down a total at the bottom. “in what way?”
“they’re just not even trying t’ hide their favouritism now — got the most insane match cards lined up with winners ya wouldn’t even t’ink possible. half the guys in t’ locker room don’t like it, but we’ve gotta do what the boss man wants.”
you hummed noncommittally, typing something into your laptop as he continued in the background.
“i’m fed up at this point. we cannay even have a day these days, then i got put t’rough a table wrong in training, proper botched it and could barely get up for a second. i tell yous it’s gone to shite since the hey days, could do with a whole rebrand a’ this point but i don’t t’ink even tha’ could save us.”
by now, you were barely following what sheamus was saying. he had a habit of talking fast when annoyed, and this time was no exception, but coupled with your half focus — you wouldn’t deny you had lost entire understanding of what he said half way through. it was something you had noticed in the years you had been together; no matter how used to his accent you had gotten, he always got more irish the moment he was even slightly upset. unfortunately, the thicker accent coupled with the speed usually equaled y/n losing everything he was saying.
you had to chuckle to yourself as he went off again in the background, thankful he wasn’t looking in your direction as you tried to hide your amusement behind your hand.
“i dun’ even know their reasons for this one, i t’ink they’re just t’rowing shite out there now ‘nd hoping for the best. they used to give us reasons for whatever they did, but now it’s just ‘hey sheamus my man do this entirely unreasonably t’ing just for views even though it doesn’t match your character at all’, it’s— are you alright there?”
you glanced up to see sheamus looking straight at you, clearly having seen the way you were practically folded in on yourself in amusement.
trying to calm yourself down was worse, the laughter you were suppressing coming out in snorts by now. “i’m so— i’m so sorry! you’re-“ you hicupped “you’re just very irish.”
“no shite sherlock.” your boyfriend responded, but as you looked up at him, he was cracking a smile of his own, the frustrated expression he had worn before cracking in its facade “have i ever told you i hate yous?”
you giggled again, lying full on your side by now on the sofa. opening your arms, you beckoned him to come join you with a smile that he mirrored on his own face “many times. you never fail to remind me.”
sheamus cackled loudly, practically jumping on top of you as he peppered kisses along your cheeks. “wait till you meet my father.”
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litgwritersroom · 9 months
Note
can you please write the background story of ozzy hooking up with the mystery celebrity??
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LET ME BE YOUR WOMAN
Ozzy / MC - 5000+ words - @mrsbsmooth NSFW
It’s professional. It’s strictly professional.
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Ozzy rolled his neck, stretching the tension from his shoulders. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous.
Being a choreographer was his dream job. The choreography videos he’d posted on social media had been fun to make, but he’d never imagined he’d get this big. Dance classes with a waitlist four months long. Invitations to choreograph music videos and international tours. Working one-on-one with celebrities and popstars, all to great success.
But he’d never worked with someone as famous as Brooke Barrow.
Millions of fans. Tens of millions of albums sold. A twenty-country international tour that had fans getting in fistfights over merchandise. And in just a few minutes, she’d take the podium as the biggest celebrity he’d ever taught.
He cast his eyes around the studio one final time, wiping a smudge from the floor-to-ceiling mirror with a silent curse. Did he have time to go over the whole thing again? He checked his phone. No. But he did have a text from Marshall.
Snogged yer worldie yet?
He frowned.
She’s not my worldie. She’s a client, he typed. This is professional.
The dots danced at the bottom of his screen as the reply came instantaneously. Professional my arse. I can feel you sweating from Essex.
Ozzy rolled his eyes, setting his phone to do-not-disturb.
Maybe it wasn’t strictly professional.
All the celebrities he worked with were gorgeous, but she was like something out of his imagination– though he supposed he wasn’t alone. Curves like murder, eyes wide and innocent, skin like a summer evening; bronze and glowing and warm. Hair like silk, and lips you couldn’t help but want to bite down on. FHM, Maxim and Playboy had tried beating her door down for years, not one of them successful; her “good girl” image hadn’t aligned with the type of photo spreads they’d want to put her in.
But things had changed. The label said she wanted a rebrand; a sexier, more grown-up persona better suited to her now 22-year-old self. The issue was that the label thought she had absolutely no idea how to look hot when she danced. She needed help to nail it for her next video.
And she’d requested him specifically.
They’d spoken on the phone many, many times, to clarify the vibe she was after, or discuss the preparations and stretches she should be doing beforehand. They got along great. She was a professional, but still wonderfully friendly, something he’d come to understand was rare among celebrities. She put on those sequin shorts she was famous for one leg at a time. There was nothing to be nervous about.
He made the last few adjustments to the studio, breathing steadily to calm himself down. He had the choreography down, he’d recorded it and it had been approved by her management team. Everything was set and ready to go. He just had to teach her how to do it, that was all.
But as the studio door flung open, he suddenly felt a little queasy.
God Damn.
Her perfectly curated Instagram had nothing on what she looked like in person. She was unreal, a loose, white t-shirt hung off her shoulders, exposing the hint of her brown skin. The flash of a black sports crop stretched over her perky breasts. Tiny, skin-tight shorts he was sure Lululemon never intended to be so pornographic, and heels; sky high, lace-up heels he’d told her to wear, knowing she’d need to be dancing in them on stage.
He had to avert his gaze, shaking some sense into himself as he greeted her with a smile and an outstretched hand.
“Brooke,�� he said, as politely and professionally as he could. “I’m Ozzy, great to finally meet you.”
“Ozzy!” she grinned, smiling with recognition. She took his hand, shaking it gently, but didn’t immediately let go. “Hi! It’s so nice to meet you in person, I really am such a fan.”
Ozzy’s eyebrows shot up. “A fan… of… mine?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Huge fan. I swear, about 50% of the views on your Youtube videos are from me and my friends.”
“Well, thank you,” he laughed, feeling a lot more at ease. “That’s really nice to hear. I’m glad you enjoy them.”
“Enjoy is one way to describe it. My friends would call it “drooling over…” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. She bit her lip, and he couldn’t hide the surprise on his face.
…What?
He couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline that flooded his veins. Jeez, his dancing had helped him with women in the past, but… he definitely hadn’t expected—
Was Brooke… flirting with him?
He was suddenly a little at a loss of what to do. Flirting back would’ve been insane, not to mention crazy unprofessional. He couldn’t get a rep for flirting with his students. But… he knew this choreo– he’d created it himself. It wasn’t exactly “leave room for Jesus” type of dancing. So maybe a little harmless flirting would help her to feel less… exposed.
He glanced down at their still-enclosed hands, and looked back up at her, only vaguely trying to hold back the heat in his eyes.
“Well,” he said, a cool confidence in his voice. “I’ve obviously seen all of your music videos, too. Maybe we should leave it at that… for now.”
He held her gaze, and she bit those beautiful lips again, his eyes lingering on them. Brooke released his hand with a coy smile, placing her bag down on the floor in the corner of the studio. She pulled a water bottle from it, wrapping her lips around the mouthpiece of it, tapping it gently against her lips after taking a sip.
“So,” she said. “Where do we begin?”
*
Ozzy showed her every move, running her through it in sets, slowing her down and adjusting her position as she followed along.
But she wasn’t getting it.
She was rigid. Stiff, even, like she was embarrassed to fully let go.
“I’m so screwed,” she groaned, flopping to the floor to take a drink of water.
“No, you’re not,” Ozzy chuckled, sitting down alongside her. “You’ve got the steps down perfectly. You’re just too stiff.”
She sighed, tucking her leg underneath her as she turned to face him. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Make being sexy so fucking easy?”
Ozzy’s eyebrows twitched upward, and he couldn’t help but look her over once more. God, she looked so fine with a sheen of sweat over her body, the glow on her skin like she’d been kissed by sunlight.
“You’ll get it. You just need to loosen up. Let go a little.”
“You keep saying that, but I don’t know how,” she complained, pouting at him.
He laughed, getting to his feet. “Here, I’ll show you.”
He reached out his hand, helping Brooke to her feet, and she let him pull her up with a huff.
Ozzy led her to the mirror which spanned the breadth of the wall, turning her to look at herself.
“Okay, do the leg sweep.”
Brooke did a rigid leg sweep, her hands firmly on her hips.
He raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t jazz dance, Brooke. Make it slutty.”
She giggled, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
“Oh, you’re serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious,” he smiled.
“Oh, God, how on earth do I do that?”
Ozzy frowned at her. “Come on, Brooke, you’ve seen people dance seductively. Arch your back. Swing your hips. Run your hands over your body.”
He counted her in, and she tried, running her hands awkwardly up her body. She turned, looking hopefully at him, and he shot her a look of disbelief. Brooke blushed, and Ozzy shook his head, teasing her with his gaze to let her know it wasn’t that serious.
Then, he had an idea.
He’d used it many times, and it always worked. Every single time. He switched to the playlist one of his dancer friends had made him. She said it went hard in the Basildon dance crowd.
“You like clubbing, right?”
“...Yeah?”
“How do you dance in the club?”
“Awkwardly.”
Ozzy laughed. “I highly doubt that.”
Brooke grinned at him. “Yeah, alright, I’m probably a little more relaxed. But I’m usually drunk. And it’s dark.”
Without another word, Ozzy walked over to the door, and switched the lights off.
The studio plunged into darkness, the only light the emergency light over the exit. It was perfect, casting a deep red glow over the room, leaving her in almost full darkness. That deep maroon was the only thing allowing him to see her, and even then, only just. He hit play on the remote once more, smiling as the lyrics started.
Nails, hair, hips, heels, ass fat, lips real
Purse full, big bills, bitch I'm a big deal
Ozzy turned the volume almost to the max, and he took her hand.
“Pretend I’m not here,” he said. “It’s just you, dancing with your friends. Or dancing around your kitchen. No one’s paying attention. No one else is here.”
Ozzy started moving on his own to encourage her, and after only half a minute, he saw Brooke starting to move as well. She was hesitant, but quickly realised she could barely see him, gaining the confidence to start subtly dancing in time with the music.
“Yes,” he smiled. “That’s it.”
She huffed a small laugh, moving a little more confidently.
“Now you’re gonna walk,” he said, moving back across the room. “Or more like…, strut. Towards me. Step to the music.”
“What’s that gonna do?” she asked.
“Get you in touch with your body. And make you feel confident. Toss your hair over your shoulder, stop to dance, do whatever feels right. Just move in time with the music.”
He could just make her out in the low light, her brow furrowed as if she wasn’t sure, but he smiled encouragingly at her. As his eyes began to adjust, he saw her walking toward him, the click of her heels on the studio floor perfectly in time with the beat.
“Great!” he called, “Keep going!”
He began walking backwards around the room, drawing her towards him, and Brooke began laughing.
“You’re moving away!”
“Yeah, I know. Keep coming to me.”
“Ozzzzyyy–” she complained. “I feel stupid!”
“Good thing no one can see you, then, isn’t it?” he teased.
It wasn’t long before she started letting go a little.
As Todrick Hall started instructing her through the song, she started following along.
Drop for me, drop for me, drop
Pose for me, pose for me, pose
Striking dramatic, confident poses, or pausing to do a dramatic slut-drop, she was laughing her head off in no time, loosening up her movements as he finally stopped moving away. Brooke was having so much fun, she didn’t notice him stop, colliding into his chest with a thud.
“Oof,” he groaned, catching her by the upper arms, laughing.
“Oh my God, sorry!” she giggled. “I was getting too into it.”
“Good!” He grinned. “It’s a good exercise to get in the right headspace.”
“Can we keep going?” she said. “That was really fun.”
He slipped the remote from his pocket, hitting next, and Brooke burst out laughing as a deep, sultry rhythm started.
“Oh God,” she groaned. “Is this Buttons? Whose playlist is this?”
“Mate of mine. She loves making dance playlists. This one’s called ‘Hoe town, population me’.”
Brooke burst out laughing. “And you thought that was a good playlist to put on for me?”
Ozzy suddenly blushed, absolutely embarrassed that she might think he’d done that on purpose.
“God, Brooke, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”
“Shhh!” She laughed. “It’s exactly the vibe I need. I love this song.”
She took his hand, twirling herself underneath it, swaying in time with the beat. She was rolling her head around, relaxed and carefree, her shoulders beginning to follow as she sang along to the lyrics. And as she sang, he couldn’t help but watch her.
You've been saying all the right things all night long
But I can't seem to get you over here to help take this off
The way her mouth formed every word, her tongue flicking gently and her teeth biting at her lip as she began to move. Jesus Christ, she was sexy. He felt his body starting to react as she joined her hands with his, lifting his hands into the air between them. He couldn’t help but step a little closer, bringing them to the side as her body heat began to radiate against his.
Brooke began winding her body, moving her hips in time with the music. She lifted his arms again, turning herself underneath them, and wrapped them around her shoulders. He tried to keep some distance between them, knowing they didn’t need to be dancing so closely, but before he knew it, she’d pressed back against him, their bodies moving together.
“Can you show me how to do those body rolls you were doing before?” she asked, her voice soft and innocent.
Jesus, he was getting hot under the collar.
“Sure,” he said, pulling her just the necessary amount closer. He reached around her, pressing her back into him. “Chest first, shoulders back, then arch your back, pushing your stomach forward. Roll it through, then grind your hips back.”
He pressed his chest into her back, his hand pressing her shoulders back against him. He rolled her with him, her body bending flawlessly with his, ending with her guiding her world-famous ass back.
Directly into his crotch.
She had it straight away, rolling her body against his in a way that had him glancing up at the ceiling for mercy. Her perfume was intoxicating, rich and sweet like caramel and sea salt, and he inhaled deeply as she pulled her hair to the side. He could still hear her singing; it was like a distraction to her, pulling her out of the studio and onto the stage.
Take a chance to recognise that this could be yours—
She began to grind herself back against him, and his heart began to race for real. She felt so good against him, her hips winding into his… but his mind kicked back in.
Professional. Shit. Keep it professional.
“Looser,” he whispered. “Let go of your hips.”
She sighed, her shoulders dropping a little as she immediately became disheartened.
“I can’t do this,” she said, exasperated.
“Brooke,” he said. “You can.”
“I can’t,” she said, stopping altogether. “I just can’t move my body like you can.”
Ozzy frowned to himself. She was almost there when she thought no one was watching. Whenever it was just her and the music, she was perfectly on beat, playing and having fun with it, moving with flawless rhythm. It would take so little to get her there. He just needed to get her out of her own head. Relax her. Get her thinking about something else entirely. He swallowed, hard. Because there was only really one way he could think how.
People acted differently depending on how they were feeling, and there was one mood that he knew would help her. The one that curbed shame and increased risk-taking.
He could turn her on.
“Would it help if I guided you?” he asked, his voice low and husky.
“Please,” she groaned.
“I’ll have to touch you a bit though. Is that alright?”
“Yeah,” she said, “but I don’t think–”
Brooke’s voice cut off halfway as he pulled her body flush to his, and she gasped a little at his sudden taking of control.
“Hips,” he demanded. ”Roll them, like you were before.”
He gently brushed her hips, but her movements were static, so he gripped her harder, guiding her firmly into the movement he wanted to see. Side to side, in a one-two grind, swaying her with the music.
“Oh,” Brooke said, her voice quiet. “So…”
He felt her begin rocking into his hands, and he leaned in closer, speaking into her ear so she could hear him over the music.
“Yes,” he hissed. “That’s it. Now hands.”
He didn’t wait for her to try, taking her hands and placing them on her stomach.
“Run them up your body,” he said, covering them with his own. “Touch yourself like you would want someone else to touch you.”
He traced her hands over her taut stomach, guiding them up over her ribs, brushing her breasts and squeezing them with her own hands. Brooke gasped, but Ozzy didn’t stop, dragging them up over her collarbones and onto her neck. He splayed them on her skin, threading them into her hair.
“Ozzy,” she whimpered.
“Don’t be afraid to get into it,” Ozzy whispered. “If it turns you on, you’re doing it right.”
Brooke’s breath fell heavy, and he released her hands, letting her guide them over herself. He watched her in the mirror, her face glowing in the soft, red light, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up as she closed her eyes. Her hands threaded back into her own hair, and she tugged on it gently, trailing her hands onto her collarbones. She traced her fingers across them, and moved downward, her touch falling heavier on her breasts. She squeezed them together, much harder than he had, and kept going. Lower and lower, over her stomach, trailing down her waist, her hands like a magnet for his gaze as she directed them to the space between her legs. She spread them, bending low to the floor, and traced her hands up the back of her thighs, scratching her nails into the skin. She arched her back, touching herself over and over again.
And Ozzy realised he’d stopped dancing.
All this, right in front of him, an arm’s reach away but feeling like miles. Her body was so effortless, moving with all the beauty and elegance of someone who’d been dancing for a lifetime. He was absolutely entranced by her, the heat in his body like a fire in his blood.The song ended, and for a moment, the trance was broken. But as the next one started, he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop what was going to happen. Doja Cat was going to make sure of that.
The beat was low; seductive and sensual and sex in music’s form, and Brooke turned, gazing at him with deep, hooded eyes. She was in his arms before he could even pull her closer, her body pressed back against his as they began to move as one. He wrapped his arms around her waist, that intoxicating perfume curling into him once more, groaning as Brooke took his hands in hers.
She placed his hands on her, covering them with her own, just as he had, and began guiding him over her skin. Her hips, her waist, under her t-shirt, pushing them onto her breasts.
Baby, worship my hips and waist
So feminine with grace
I touch your soul when you hear me say
"Boy, let me be your woman"
Every drop of blood in his body was rushing south, and he grasped her in a way that was wholly unprofessional, knowing she could feel what she was doing to him. He moved her hair to the side, dropping his lips to her neck, dragging them from behind her ear down to her shoulder. God, he wanted to bite her, her skin tasted exactly like her fragrance, the sweetest caramel with the delicious taste of her sweat.
“Ozzy,” she whispered, gasping for a breath as she reached behind her head and threaded her fingers through his hair.
Jesus, this was already going way too far, but he couldn’t help himself. One hand was on her breast, stroking her rapidly hardening nipples through her bra. The other on her stomach, toying with the waistband of her shorts. Brooke was grinding her ass against him with a wind that would put professionals to shame, the roll of her body against his only drawing more and more heat from his breath. He had to stop this. He had to stop before it went too–
Before he knew it, she’d turned, and her lips were on his.
Ozzy picked her up, and a moment later, he had her against the wall, holding her thigh around his waist as he held her legs apart. Brooke’s hands were in his hair, holding him against her as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, whimpering with need as he began rolling his hips against hers. She tugged at his shirt, and he gladly let her pull it over his head, drawing an irresistible whimper from her as she traced her fingers over his abs. He pulled hers over her head as well, tossing it across the room, before pushing his hands into her sports bra.
“Fuck, yes,” she gasped, “Yes, Ozzy, please!”
He lifted the tight fabric higher, exposing her to him, and leaned down to take her nipple in his mouth. She held his head to her, her back arched, moaning with each flick of his tongue against the sensitive bud. Brooke reached down, slipping her hand into his sweats, stroking her fingers down his length as he groaned into her skin.
“Oh my Goddddd,” she moaned as she traced his full length. “I knew it, I fucking knew it.”
He couldn’t help it, his body completely on fire with every kiss of her palm against his tip. He couldn’t take it any more. He curled his arm around her waist, sliding it into the tiny shorts that had been tormenting him since the moment she walked in, and he took a handful of her ass for himself. He rolled the fabric down his wrist, exposing her, before pushing the shorts all the way down. She reached down, tugging them far enough down that they fell to her ankles, and she stepped out of them. She reached down for her shoes, but he stopped her, turning her face toward his.
“Leave them on.”
Naked except for her pushed-up sports bra and lace up heels, she stood like a goddess in front of him, every curve and angle of her body bathed in a cherry-red glow. His fingers traced her outline, admiring her for the work of art she was, before lingering on the heat radiating from between her legs. He pressed his fingers against her clit, starting a slow, steady rhythm, holding her legs open with his own as he pressed his hard length against her leg.
She tugged his sweats down, pulling him closer, and before he could even think about what he was doing, she was guiding his tip to her entrance. He captured her lips with his, groaning at how wet she was, and began to push inside her.
Brooke whimpered and moaned at his size, and he pulled back for a moment.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, kissing her softly.
She let her head fall back, exposing her neck to him, an opportunity he gladly took as he began kissing up and down it.
“No,” she groaned. “Oh my God, Ozzy, give me all of it.”
So he did.
Brooke gasped with each thrust, whimpering and moaning his name as if he was her favourite song, and he couldn’t help his eyes rolling back as he savoured her. Every roll of his hips was met by one of hers, drawing forward to meet him as if she couldn’t bear for him to not be inside her.
Jesus, he couldn’t believe she thought she couldn’t dance.
“Ozzy,” she groaned, and he paused for a moment, hearing the pain in her voice. “My heels. My feet are–”
Shit, he hadn’t even realised, capturing her thigh in his hand meant she’d been balancing on one heel. He released her, and she dropped to her knees, laying back on the studio floor, her hands against the wall. Ozzy kneeled in front of her, and she wrapped her long legs around his waist, urging him back toward her. He pressed back into her, his hands on either side of her body, and something came over him.
He’d never had a one-night stand before, it wasn’t his vibe. And almost as if he’d only just realised what he was doing, he paused for moment, looking down at Brooke’s exposed body.
Damn. He’d never had a one night stand before, and he wasn’t going to start now.
He was just going to have to make sure this wasn’t a one-night stand.
Ozzy smirked a little, glancing up at Brooke’s hands to make sure she was holding her hands steady against the wall…
And he danced.
He gave her every movement of his body that he had; hips, torso, thighs; rolling his body into her as he drew himself in and out of her, over and over and over. Brooke’s body wrenched underneath him, begging him with her thighs, squeezing him tightly as she held herself off the wall.
She caught a glimpse of them in the mirror to their side, and she gasped, panting his name with every thrust as she watched him build her toward her peak.
“Fuck, fuck,” she gasped, her voice damn near at a cry, every breath like a wave of curses and groans as she tried to hold back. “Ozzy, fuck, I’m gonna–”
She whimpered, her mouth falling open, and he almost chuckled at how fast he’d brought her there. But he couldn’t help but groan in response as she tightened around him, her strong thighs squeezing his waist as her walls gripped his length inside her.
“Oh Jesus, Brooke, yes,” he whispered, throwing his head back as he guided her through the waves of her climax. He gently slowed as she came down, rolling softly into her so as not to overstimulate her. But almost as soon as she’d taken a breath, she opened her eyes.
She looked up at him with the deepest, hooded eyes he’d ever seen, her full lips parted and her lips wet from his kiss.
“On your back,” she whispered.
Ozzy’s eyebrows raised, and before he could even tell her she didn’t have to, she had him on his back. Brooke slid him back into her, and he smiled up at her…
Until she started moving.
Up. Down. Forward. Back. Side to side and directions he didn’t even know existed. She was a full-body experience, her hips grinding into his, her hands gently caressing and scratching at his chest as she worked herself over him.
“Je–sus–christ,” he gasped, grasping for purchase with each grind of her hips. “Brooke, fuck!”
Her lips fell open, moaning as she watched him underneath her, and she glanced one more time at the mirror. He turned his own head, glancing at their reflection, and almost lost control. Every curve was on full display, her back arched, her breasts exposed, her every movement captured in glass and reflected back at him as he watched her ride him.
She caught his eye in the mirror, biting her lip and moaning as she took him especially deeply.
“Oh, God, Ozzy, you feel so good,” she gasped.
Ahh, Jesus, he was close.
He tried to slow her down, but Brooke had no interest in it, closing her eyes and lifting her pace. So he did the only thing he could do.
He started thrusting back into her.
He fell into her rhythm, meeting her hips with every movement, echoing and mirroring and taking back the lead. His hands left her hips, and he reached for her hands, bringing them to her breasts.
“Touch your body,” he demanded. “Brooke, touch yourself.”
She whimpered, squeezing her breasts the way she’d shown him before that she loved, and Ozzy grabbed her hip once more. He guided her with one hand, thrusting up into her, and brought his other hand to her clit, grinding his fingers against her as he watched her rolling her nipples through her fingers.
Jesus, the visual was too much, and he could feel the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He was so close, dancing so close to the edge, holding back for her, desperate to–
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Brooke, shit, shit–”
“Ozzy–”
With a sudden heave of her body, Brooke snapped, her head falling back as she came a second time. The tightness surrounded him, and he couldn’t have held back if he wanted to, exploding in a wall of gasping moans as he bucked up into her. The beat of the music pumped through him, the roll and wind of their hips together like a wave of ecstasy that they rode each other through. His fingers left marks on her hips, grinding her back into him with some unholy urge to come as deep into her as possible, and it only drew a darker gasp from Brooke’s lips.
They stayed like that for what seemed like an age, their hips rolling in perfect unison as they came down from the high together. Brooke collapsed on top of him, her body soft and limp against his, and he wrapped her up in his arms, completely at a loss of what to say.
“That was fucking incredible,” Brooke said, panting heavily into his chest. “If that’s what dancers can do, I need to get better at dancing.”
Ozzy laughed, stroking her back. “You seemed to have pretty good control of your hips from where I’m standing?”
Brooke lifted her head, glaring playfully at him, and smiled. “Glad you think so… now. But I think I can get even better.”
He kissed her gently, smiling back, a little amused at his own boldness. “Well, you’re doing classes with me five times a week for the next two weeks. So…”
Brooke giggled, and leaned over him, kissing him deeply. He groaned into her soft lips, holding her to him, stroking his hand through her hair before releasing her. She bit her lip, an adorably excited look in her eyes, and grinned at him.
“It’s a date.”
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hookslinesandsinkers · 4 months
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Hey I don’t know if I am the only one who notice this but when I watched an old interview of Jared he sounded so confident and assured of himself compare to his new ones. I know he had mental break downs and deals with MH but it just broke my heart seeing him now always depreciate and devalue himself. I love his humbleness don’t get me wrong, but his early interviews were so good we see a strong young man oozing with confidence. In my humble opinion many factors could explain this and one of which being the AAs. Over almost two decades those people constantly told him Jensen is better actor, better looking, more popular etc. and that have to play with someone’s psychic. He was in GG for 5 years and didn’t had that self-depreciative attitude. Jared is not someone who envy others but he did spoke about not being enough, he also spoke about getting blamed for things that wasn’t his fault. 
The constant hate AA and hellers subject him to every day telling him to end himself, telling him he is “unwanted” in his own show, twist his words to crucify him for little things, make TikTok videos to spread lies to defame him, tried to get him fired from the show must have reshaped his believes. Jensen’s stans and some of the extras completely shattered his confident as an actor and his capacity by always praising Jensen’s acting and ignoring his brilliant performances. Jared had even said that he lost the joy of acting but found it back with Walker. These same people got to Jensen's head too and inflated his ego. His aggressive attempt to rebrand the show as Jensen's show proves that. I truly believe earlier days Jensen wasn't like this. 
Anyway, ever since Jared's last break down I am always worried about him, we almost lost him and we don't know what might trigger him. I know I am most probably being dramatic but I was so shocked when I watched an old interview and a new one back to back. 
And that's because he was around toxic people for years that contributed to his breakdown. He found a new love for acting because he gets to set the tone, his conditions were met, he's around great people who love and support him. What a difference that makes to your confidence, he's in a great place mentally, but he does need to do a little less devaluing. He needs to continue to stay away from toxic people. It looks like he's broken ties with JA and I'm happy. I prefer for his sake they don't work together again, he doesn't need SPN, only Jensen and the others do. But it'll never happen without Jared, so they can all, what's the saying? Die mad about it?
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