#asks boxes are other folks' space

[ravengards-rogue]

i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#zero.writes #rogues love letters #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption x reader #this is so lovesick and silly i feel so miserable #I AM A JOHN GIRL. BUT. well that deadbeat father and bastard isnt gonna write you love letters like arthur im afraid

[greynatomy]

oh, shit.

katie mccabe x reader

second part to luck of the irish.

part one part three

———

You decided to go on an instagram live, just because. You opened the app and started the live, propping your phone up on your bookshelf. You’re sitting on your living room floor, next to you a box.

“Hi, guys. Hi! Wow, you’re all coming in quickly.”

Grabbing the box next to you, you place it in front of you.

“Today, I got the shelf that I ordered because I am officially out of space in my first shelf with all my books.” You open the box, taking all the pieces out.

i saw you at the game you were at the arsenal match! north london!!!

You read through all the comments being left.

“Yeah, I was at the game.”

you watch sports? you’re hot

“Okay, don’t come for me like that. I know I’ve said before that I hated doing or watching sports, but I’m a changed woman.” You look through the instructions, grabbing what you need.

“Okay, looking at the instructions, it looks easy enough. Listen, I’m not a very handy person. I don’t do any of the building, but since I’m alone, I should try to be an independent woman.”

where selena and taylor? are selena and taylor still there? selena taylor?

“Selena and Taylor went back home yesterday. That spend a week with me and I showed them all my favorite places. Especially the small bakery that I got to like almost every single day. Mindy, the owner, is the sweetest lady I’ve ever met. Ugh, I love her and her muffins.”

you live in london? are you there for a movie? what’s the bakery called

“Okay, this looks pretty self explanatory, but they didn’t give me any tools. I thought they come with tools.” Grabbing the two longest planks you set them down on the floor, away from you. “I don’t know where any of my tools are. Do I even have any tools?”

Reading through more comments, “I guess a lot of you don’t know that I live in London now. I do, I moved here like two years ago. I first came to shoot a movie, but fell in love with many things here and just moved, I guess.”

Before you could say anything else, you hear the door open and the loud voice of your girlfriend follows.

“Baby! I’m home! And I’ve brought some guests.” Finding you in the living room, she makes her way to you, grabs your face and gives you a big kiss. “Hi, lovely.”

“Ew. Don’t do that in front of us please.” The voice of Alessia breaks you out of your shock.

“Are you trying to build something l? Babe you know you’re not very handy.” Seeing your frozen state, she waves a hand in front of your face. “You okay?” All you can do is point towards your phone, where she can see is instagram live. “Oh, shit.”

“What? What happened?” Leah moved her face next to Katie’s to look where she’s looking. “Oh, shit indeed. Well, hello instagram. How are you all doing? My name is Leah Williamson and I’ll be your host tonight.”

it’s leah williamson!!! no way katie and y/n?!?!

You move your face closer to you phone, pushing Leah and Katie’s head out of the way.

“Well, this wasn’t how the public was supposed to find out. But, uh, well, Katie is my girlfriend and Leah and Alessia are our children. Now I’m gonna make them build this shelf, so that’s all for today folks! Bye!” You end the livestream, giving them a smile.

“That went well, didn’t it?” Katie says, giving you her big smile.

“Yup. Now you can build this for me. It didn’t come with tools so I gave up. Good luck you three.”

You walk out of the living room. The three footballers all look at each other in silence.

“She’s bossy isn’t she?” Alessia asks.

“I know I don’t have to listen to her cause she’s not my girlfriend, but I feel like I have to.” Leah states.

“Alright. Let’s get to work.”

#woso x reader #greynatomy #woso #woso imagines #woso imagine #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccard

[critterbitter]

If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your comic making process? I find it hard to make comics that look eye-pleasing to read and yours are like candy.

Ah, comics! Dig under cut to see some old wips as I attempt to explain my nightmare thought process to you.

For making a comic AESTHETIC and APPROACHABLE:

I've noticed that it's easier for people to be pulled into a comic if I set the environment first and foremost, so people have some vague context for the scene. Of COURSE that's not always necessary ( there are a lot of comics that start out without environmental story telling and it works perfectly) but I've always liked having a lil illustration before digging my rat claws into the meat of the story.

For example! “Emmet and Elesa have a clandestine meeting in the library at 4 am.”

The sketch was sort of the jumping point to where I wanted to go with the comic. I wanted to a. explain wtf is happening and b. draw a nice conclusion about what the f is happening.

You don't need to make the environment available in every panel too! I'd suggest making your first panel tell all the environment detail you need and then like... slowly removing irrelevant detail from there. And then hit folks with the background again at the end. (So basically, you don't see the library in this comic until the beginning and a bit towards the end. I have tricked you! aha!) So that's one tip i have. For Readability: Anyways, to make a comic easy to read, spacing is super important. Dialogue tends to cramp a shot by a WHOLE lot. For example! Remember the "Lamp is told she's beloved (and has a tsundere moment over it"? That used to be TWO panels. Man. Nightmare fuel. Lemme find it. (This is the rough. I Lined It, realized the pacing is off, and then withered. Please don't look at it too hard.)

So here's the thing. This READS. But the sheer amount of dialogue in the beginning is fatiguing for me and the "you are beloved, Lampent" NEEDS that oomph of both characters realizing that over the span of years, their relationship stopped being antagonistic and started being family instead. Some folks are fine with blocks of dialogue, but I have the attention span of a patrat on candy. I will not make it. SO! To match the almost moody atmosphere, I stretched the comic out. I stretched that bad boy out a LOT. And I got this out of it.

Something to keep in mind in comics is there's always going to be one or two iconic lines. Lines that make people FEEL things. Those lines deserve their own panel, their own shot, their whatever. A good story has lulls in its conversation. If you can replicate it, you're winning. Character Blocking:

So basically no, it's not all witchcraft. It's only a bit of witchcraft. Another thing that helps is differentiating characters if they're on the same panel is by solid blocks of color. I have, for the longest time when working on storyboards, blocked characters different tones in order to help differentiate them. Don't be shy! Do that if it helps your comics read! Ingo will always be darker shaded then emmet. The angry nightlight will always have some hint of purple on her (unless I forget). The first goal in a story is to convey information, hehe. Here's an example of color blocking! (This is from a VERY old botw comic I did for linktober in 2021.)

It's, ah, rather rustic compared to what I do. usually. I know! BUT the primary goal here is to convey where the characters are in relation to each other. And the fact they're color coded makes life easier for both reader and artist. Alright! That's all the tips I can think of off the top of my head. Time to get off that soap box, haha. Overall: Basically, my work process is-- draw a story telling image/ write a funny piece of dialogue. Build the comic around that. Pace it so the important lines stand out. Color code the characters for max visibility. And then four to twelve hours of lineart, but that's neither here or there.

Thanks for coming to my unregulated rambling!

#tutorial #but hideous and mostly cobbled from limestone and willpower #ask #mailbox #critterbitter #wip #botw #just some comic stuff! #submas wip #critterbitter screams into the void

[updownlately]

it was late at night (you held on tight)

| alessia x reader | hurt/comfort | 2.4k | disclaimer: slight mention of heavy topics- read at your own discretion! | a/n: based of this and another ask (that i lost). got it a while ago, inspo struck now, yenno the drill- i do reqs eons after they're sent in. to the anon that req'd it, it's not the most angst to fluff but i hope it's fine? space song just radiates h/c vibes and so yeah...anyways, happy reading folks!

“it was late at night, you held on tight from an empty seat, a flash of light it will take a while to make you smile somewhere in these eyes, i’m on your side" "tender is the night for a broken heart who will dry your eyes when it falls apart?”

~~~

Some nights were good. 

The type of good where breathing came easy. 

Where the air was light, the stars bright.

Nights where friends felt like family, a house a home. 

Dark hours where light shone easily, mind at peace. 

Nights where everything felt okay- good even- for a short while. 

However, tonight? Tonight unfortunately was not one of those nights.

Not when all you could do was sit in the corner of your living room, knees hugged to your chest, eyes trained on your window as you stared at the light-polluted sky. 

Not when all you tried to do was figure out if any one of the stars in the sky was staring down at you, cheering for you, once on this earth, a being, now gone. 

Not when all you were left with was a treasure chest full of memories, ones you so desperately wished you could bury deep, deep into the ground, hopefully, slowly, eventually to be forgotten so you could move on.

Tonight was not a good night, and as you shuffled uncomfortably on the hard floor, your eyes fell on your phone settled beside you, the glaring message from a few minutes ago taunting you, it reminded you painfully so. 

‘Are you okay?’

It had to be criminal, the way she knew you so well. 

Three texts you hadn’t responded to throughout the day and bam, the guess that you weren’t okay. 

You’d call her overprotective if she wasn’t right, but she was, and you didn’t know what to do. 

Hovering over the send button, your eyes traced over what you had typed, having already gone back and changed it nearly four times before settling on debating whether you should send this.

The simple ‘no’ that was typed out in the text box glared back at you almost pleadingly, your heart turning in your chest, the implications of the word terrifying.

You could hit send, and it would be okay. You could hit send and she’d probably come over and it would be alright. You could. But could you really?

Because she’d make the drive out at nearly eleven at night. Because something could happen on the way over and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. Because you were supposed to be strong, for fuck’s sake. You were an adult, you could handle a little bit of gloominess, right? Because you didn’t need help, you were the helper. Because this wasn’t fair to her, and you didn’t want to be a burden- you couldn’t be a burden. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat as the small voice in your head got louder, you took ahold of your phone, bringing it up to your face. 

You could send this, or you couldn’t. 

You could make it through the night, but she’d make it easier.

You could be strong, but asking for help didn’t make you any weak.

You could sit here and hurt, alone, but you didn’t have to.

Sharply inhaling, your other hand curling into a near-painful fist, nails digging into your palm, you pressed and held the button with the arrow you promptly locked your phone, tossing it gently to the rug in front of you instantly after, the voices in your head getting just a tad bit louder with each passing minute.

You’d be okay…eventually.

~~~

It’s nearly twenty minutes later that you hear the gentle knocks ring through the apartment. 

You make no move to get up, however. 

In fact, you couldn’t get up even if you tried. 

Mind frozen as the consequences of your actions finally set in, all you could do was stay rooted to your spot as you heard another set of knocks ring through before the tell tale sound of a key turning in the lock reached your ears.

Head rising from where it had been resting on your arms, you stared intently at the hallway by your front door, the opening and closing of the door distinct, your breath stilling with each footstep that made its way closer towards you.

“Hey?”

The soft voice floated down the hallway, the lump in your throat lessening ever so slight at the mere sound of the blonde. Yet, you couldn’t muster up the courage to speak, the fact that she was here still not having sunk in.

You listened closely as Alessia’s cautious footfalls slowly picked up pace, the worry clear in her voice as she called out again, this time more confidently.

“Love?”

Just barely finding your voice as she reached the threshold of the living room, your dark figure called out quietly, if nothing than to save her from panicking any further.

“I’m here…”

Your meek reply was accompanied by you raising your hand ever so slightly, one eye wincing as an embarrassed look crossed your face. 

Watching ashamedly as Alessia raked her eyes over your figure, you awkwardly lowered your hand as she stepped towards you.

You waited for her to question you. To question the three texts you had missed earlier. To question why your apartment was bathed in darkness. Why you were on the floor.

You waited for the questions. You waited for the disappointment. 

You waited only for it to never come. 

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you stared, mouth agape, as she silently made way to sit beside you, an arm coming to rest on your shoulder as she stretched out her long legs.

You wouldn’t know it, but you looked like a wreck. The way your hair was unruly, tangles clear as strands flew in every which direction. 

Tear stained cheeks just barely visible in the dim light shining from the window. The way your knees were tucked to your chest made you look tiny, both combining easily to wordlessly convey that you needed a little bit of extra love today. 

It was why Alessia silently made way to sit beside you, ignoring the questions running rampant in her mind.

Letting her emotions make the calls, she quietly let her heart speak, the arm resting on your shoulders gently bringing you closer to her, your head now leaning on her shoulder. 

It seemed like the right move too, with the way you immediately sighed at the contact, tension deflating ever so slightly as you let yourself rest, revelling in the tender care.

And it’s how the pair of you sat, leant up against each other, heartbeat a bit more regular, breaths a bit easier, as the sky got darker, the stars a tad bit brighter. 

Intently watching as you slowly got more comfortable, she took note of your puffy eyes, the dark circles clear beneath them, the tired sag of your shoulders even though you both had been only sat for the past bit. It was clear that the tiredness wasn’t a day to day type of exhaustion, and that worried her the most. 

This wasn’t you- not the normal you. 

The normal you ran on full batteries, always- lovingly nicknamed the team’s very own ‘Energizer bunny’.

The normal you whose smile would light up any room, presence enough to bring a ray of light, airy positivity never too far from where you’d be. 

The normal you that everyone got to see.

But this? The side that not many saw? Alessia wanted to make sure it was a secret for the right reasons. That it remained unknown by many because you never felt low often, because if she could, if it was in her control, she’d make sure that a smile would permanently be on your face, effortlessly. 

So as minutes passed, the quarter of an hour flying by, then nearly a half an hour, the pair of you didn’t move, Alessia well aware that comfort was the best she could give right now.

Despite how uncomfortable the ground had gotten, the blonde didn’t dare say a word, instead choosing to hide her discomfort by turning slightly towards you, arms coming to wrap around your torso and head as you two slouched slightly against the wall.

She’d sit her for as long as you'd need her to.

Consumed by the silence, she rubbed gentle circles into your shoulder blades, hoping the action could provide some sort of grounding presence as your breaths slowly evened, head becoming heavier as it rested, your grip on her arm loosening. 

It was only when the clock nearly hit midnight, when the city slowly geared to a stop, did she speak- a hushed voice squeezing through the calm. 

“Did you eat yet?”

The question had you stiffening, quickly being pulled out of your calming state into one of disdain. 

Because of course she’d know you weren’t taking care of yourself.

Eyebrows furrowing in worry as you shook your head in response, you not meeting her gaze, the striker gently straightened, bringing you up with her. 

“If I make you a snack, and I promise it’ll be a snack, would you have a couple bites?”

Some T&C couldn’t hurt, right?

The gentle question had your stomach sinking, the thought of consuming anything in this state nearly unbearable, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to disappoint her- not after she came to check in on you. 

Hesitantly nodding, you watched as Alessia studied you, the blonde mirroring your nods encouragingly as she began to rise from the ground, hand extended towards you, pulling you up as well. 

Leading you to your kitchen, she helped you settle on a bar stool, foregoing the main lights and instead turning on the range lights, aware that you more likely preferred a darker setting right now.  

Quickly making a sandwich, the blonde presented you with a plate, taking a seat beside you as her hand went to rest on your thigh in quiet reassurance. 

Reaching for one half, so she could encourage you, the Gunner held it out expectantly, small smile on her face as she waited for you to bump yours against her. 

Unable to keep a straight face at her antics, a small but grateful smile broke through your face, Alessia’s mission successful. Bringing your own half up to gently knock against hers before taking a deep breath in, you watched as she eyed you whilst taking a bite out of her sandwich, gesturing at you to do the same. 

Matching your pace, not pressuring you to eat anything you didn’t want but eating with you in support, the both of you managed to slowly but surely finish, your mind already a little distracted from the spiral earlier.

You watched as Alessia gathered your dishes, tossing them in the sink to be dealt with in the morning, and quickly cleaned up the kitchen, wiping the island free of crumbs, turning off the light, and washing her hands before making her way over to you once again. 

Intertwining your hands in the dim light from outside, she raised her eyebrows at you, a small yawn escaping her, inciting one from you.

“How are we feeling about heading to bed?”

She pressed a quick kiss to your forehead at your quick small nods of agreement, glad that you were at least coming out of your shell a bit, a tiny but sure indicator that you were pulling out of the storm in your mind.

Leading you both to your bedroom, the other girl well familiar with your apartment and you trusting her easily to guide you, you followed compliantly.

With Alessia quickly changing into a spare set of clothes she kept at your place, and you into a pair of old shorts and an oversized t-shirt from years ago, the both of you quietly did your night time routines, never apart for more than a few seconds.

Be it brushing your teeth or as you took turns cleansing your face, the both of you were attached at the hip, you for your own sanity and the comforting aura of the taller girl, and Alessia because she felt better knowing you were okay beside her. 

It was only when the both of you were ready to sleep did you make your way over to the bed, each going to your own respective sides, having spent the night at each other’s place countless times before. 

Minutes later, when you’re both settled in, cuddled up near the middle of the mattress as you lay your head on Alessia’s shoulder, your body nearly covering hers whilst she had one arm wrapped around your waist and another running through your hair, the room bathed in near darkness save for the light that sneaked through the drawn curtains, you let yourself break gently, the comfort of her arms safe.

Silent tears leaving your eyes, you quickly felt them wiped away by the girl below you, the hand that was running through your hair now resting on your cheek without question, ready to catch any more tears that would fall.

It’s in the shelter of her arms that you let the quiet words slip, the admission causing a stabbing pain in your chest as it reminded you of why life felt so bleak as of late.

“I miss them…”

“I know love, I know….”

There was a pause in the air after the hushed words, Alessia adjusting herself so that her arms came to fully encircle you, trapping you in a bubble of her warmth.

Pressing her lips to your crown, muffled words escaped her, the reassuring tone bringing you a small breath of relief, her belief in you lifting a weight off your chest.

“You’ll be okay though, soon enough, yeah? And until then, you’ve got me, I’m on your side.”

Nodding surely at that statement, not a doubt in your mind that the blonde would always be there for you, like you would for her, you let your grip tighten, the silent thank you easily spoken as you let the tiredness and warmth take over you.

Alessia’s presence making even the worst of nights a little easier, a tad bit more bearable, you let yourself drift off into a dreamless sleep, well-aware you were in safe hands. 

Early in the day, or late at night, you knew that at the end of the day, she would be there in an instant to dry your eyes, and you loved her more than ever for it.

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso community #woso #my writing #fic req #hurt/comfort #iwlan #fic

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

I came out as transfem to my friends a couple months ago, but every now and then I feel like I'm faking it. But when I'm called by my preferred name, my heart starts racing and I get a little smile.

Is this a normal thing?

Lee says:

Experiencing feelings of doubt or questioning like you're "faking it" can be part of the process for many people as they explore their gender identity.

This doesn't invalidate your experiences or your identity; sometimes it's a reflection of navigating a complex personal journey within a society that has rigid norms about gender.

Having doubts is normal, and many people who come out as trans continue to identify as trans throughout their lives, even if they initially had some discomfort getting used to their new identity and occasionally felt like they were faking it.

There are also some folks who feel like they're faking it and while they may not be intentionally faking an identity, that kernel of discomfort and wrongness may be a clue that something isn't quite right yet, whether it's their particular label, their gender expression, their pronouns, or their feelings about the gender roles they feel pressure to inhabit. I'm not saying that this is the case for you-- it seems like it likely isn't-- but I do feel that it's also important to acknowledge that not everyone who questions their gender will ultimately identify as transgender.

There should be no shame in questioning your gender, trying on new labels for a while, even coming out to friends to see how it feels to use the new label/pronouns/name, etc but ultimately reidentifying. The process of exploring one's gender identity is deeply personal and unique to each individual and there's nothing wrong with someone realizing that they aren't trans after all.

I'm writing all of that because I think this type of ask is often sent by folks wanting to know whether what they're feeling is normal because they're seeking reassurance that they're trans.

But we're not really here to reassure you that you're trans. We don't know you! Only you know your gender. If I tried to reassure you by saying "oh yeah I know for sure that you're trans, don't worry!" it would be beyond my scope as someone who is not-you.

I can tell you that it's normal to feel that way, that many other trans folks have felt that way, and that you will find your path eventually. It can be hard to figure it all out, but don't stress! Everyone always seems to have this super big sense of internal urgency, but it's okay to not be 100% certain of your gender identity, and to feel that way for months or even years.

Be patient with yourself. Understanding your gender identity is a journey, and it's okay to take your time. There's no rush to figure everything out immediately or to fit into any particular box. Trust yourself, and allow your journey to unfold in a way that feels authentic to you. All that being said, your current identity is valid, regardless of whether it shifts over time.

It's super common to have feelings of doubt and wrongness and feelings of faking it at the start of a transition, and that doesn't necessarily have to overshadow the joy and happiness that you experience when you're called by your preferred name. That gender euphoria you described is super real!

Seeking support can be incredibly helpful. This might include talking to friends who understand and support your journey, joining support groups for people exploring their gender identity, or finding a therapist who specializes in gender identity issues. These resources can provide a space to discuss your feelings, explore your identity, and receive support from others who have had similar experiences. Your feelings and experiences are real, and they deserve acknowledgment and respect.

Anons say:

(See follow-up post here!)

#Lee says #trans #questioning #faking it #identity

[jeonqkooks]

CONGRATS ON THE MILESTONE BABY YOU DESERVE IT AND MORE!!!!!!!!

for the drabble game, can you write something w jungkook and these two quotes?

“i didn’t like the way they were looking at you” (s) and “how mad would you be if i kissed you?” (f)

THANK YOU!!!! I LOVE YOU!!!! CONGRATS AGAIN!!!!!

just friends | jjk

jungkook doesn’t like it when other people look at you the way he does.

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: friends to lovers, college au, fwb au, fluff, smut, semi-public sex, car sex, unprotected sex (don’t do it folks!), creampie, dirty talk, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, breast play, mention of alcohol consumption

word count: 2.2k

note: thank you so much and love you too babe!! and thank you for sending this in, i hope ya like it <33

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

As Jungkook approaches you, his glare burns holes into the back of the boy who was talking to you seconds ago.

“Who was that?” he asks, lightly bumping his hip against yours as he hands you your drink.

You send him an appreciative smile. “Yeonjun from my Sociology class.”

He hums in acknowledgement, nodding in response to the bit of information that you just dropped on him. “He’s got a little crush on you.”

“What? What makes you say that?”

He shrugs and places a hand on the small of your back. More brazen than usual when you’re out in public.

“Just a hunch.”

“He doesn’t have a crush on me,” you scoff. As you sip on your drink, you make a face at the taste of vodka making its way down your throat. “And so what if he does? Are you jealous?”

Jungkook’s eyes wander to the corner where Yeonjun has scuttled to, casually chatting with some other people but still sneaking a glance in your direction once in a while. Jungkook doesn’t like it when the younger one’s eyes settle on your ass in those tight shorts you chose to wear tonight.

He ignores your question in favor of one of his own. “How mad would you be if I kissed you? Right here, right now. Let the whole campus know what we’ve been up to. Let Yeonjun know.”

He thinks it would be worth it to risk your anger. He wants to show you off to everyone at this party, send a reminder to all the sleazy guys who have been eyefucking you the moment you arrived that they will never be as lucky as he is; and a message to all the girls who have been trying to get his attention the whole night that they aren’t the one that he has eyes for.

Jungkook leans down slowly, and you think he’s really about to kiss you here in the middle of the party, but he just settles on pressing his lips against your cheek. “Come on,” he says, taking the cup in your hand and downing the contents of it. Before you can protest, he’s already tugging you out the door by your wrist.

He glances to the corner where Yeonjun’s eyes are still on the pair of you, and he enjoys the way the younger boy squirms under his dagger glare.

You don’t have time to settle into the backseat before Jungkook is already kissing you. He takes control of the situation quickly, planting his hands firmly on your hips to press you against the worn leather of the car. You both are a mess of awkward limbs in the small space of his vehicle, and your muscles will surely be a lot sorer than usual come tomorrow but you honestly couldn’t care less about that right now.

By the time his hands slip under your shirt and bra to fondle your tits, you’re positive that there’s already a mess between your legs. You moan against his lips and tug on his t-shirt, signalling that you want it off. Jungkook complies, and when he breaks away from your mouth to take off the black tee, you do the same to the fabric covering your upper body. You unhook your bra and throw it blindly over to the front seat along with your shirt, though you hope that it doesn’t land on the half-eaten box of fries that you were munching on before the party.

To your surprise, he doesn’t go back to kissing you. Instead, he maneuvers your body so that your back is pressed against the door and your lower half is angled toward him, who’s half kneeling on the floor. You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when his hands settle on your shorts, popping the buttons and pulling the denim down your legs along with your soaked panties.

Jungkook smirks at the sight of your glistening core and licks a fat stripe through your folds, nudging your clit with his tongue when he reaches the sensitive nub. “Fuck…” you moan, carding your hands through his hair to push his face against your pussy.

Normally, whenever you and him fuck outside of the comfort of your or his apartment, it’s because of pure desperation. You’re both too impatient for foreplay, or for anything beside getting straight to business, right to the main course. In one of the bedrooms at a frat house, in a bathroom at a club or here, in the backseat of his car outside a house party—it’s always just “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” to satisfy your needs in fifteen minutes.

That’s why you’re slightly taken aback when he decided to eat you out now of all times and here of all places. Though you’re not exactly complaining; it feels heavenly how his mouth sucks on your clit while he pushes two fingers into your fluttering hole.

“Fuck, Jungkook ah,” you mewl, immediately clenching around his digits as they begin to pump in and out of you.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, smirking against your pussy and reveling in the wet sounds that reverberate around the car. “Feel good?”

Your words almost get swallowed as you choke on air. “So good,” you moan lewdly and palm one of your breasts, squeezing the supple flesh and rolling your nipple between your fingers while you grind against his face. The visual of you playing with your tits as he’s going on you makes his dick twitch, and he has to abandon his task of holding your thighs open to run a hand down to his crotch, palming the hard length over his jeans to relieve himself of some pressure.

Your back arches when Jungkook curls his slender digits within your walls, pressing against your g-spot and making you shut your eyes in pleasure. Your neck hurts a little in the cramped space but his tongue and fingers feel amazing, and euphoria overwhelms any sort of discomfort you’re sensing.

“I’m cumming, Kook ah, fuck–!”

Your entire body convulses as your orgasm hits, so powerful that he has to hold your hips down while his mouth fucks you through your high. “Good girl,” he praises, licking into you and lapping up all your juices.

When your heavy breathing starts to calm and stars have faded from behind your eyelids, he yanks you down by your thighs so that you’re lying on the seat. He pushes himself off from the floor to come up and hover over you, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hands trail down his bare chest until you reach his belt and struggle to unbuckle it. He chuckles, breathing away from your mouth to undo his pants. “Still needy after that?”

You bite your lip and nod, gazing up at him with hooded eyes. Jungkook smirks above you, pulling down his jeans and boxer just enough for his cock to spring out and slap against his stomach. He gives it a few pumps and smears the precum collecting at the tip all over his length, before he leans down close to you, slotting his body between your legs and kissing you again.

You help him guide himself to your slickened entrance, and he swallows up your moans when his shaft breaches you. “Ah,” you sigh against his lips as he bottoms out swiftly.

Sounds of skin slapping fill the car when he begins to fuck you, a fast pace right from the start because he knows you can handle it. You’re insatiable for one another, and he always makes you feel so good that you keep coming back to him. You haven’t slept with anyone else in months now, but you don’t think he necessarily has to know that; it’ll only inflate his already gigantic ego.

“You say you don’t want people to know about us yet you’re letting me fuck you in my car. Anyone could walk out and see us right now,” he says gruffly as his cock pierces your quivering pussy, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. “I’m beginning to think you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Want everyone to see how well you’re taking my cock? Want everyone to know that this pussy is all mine?”

Your walls clench around his length at the sound of that last word, and you know Jungkook can feel it too. You wrap your legs around his waist and push his pelvis flush against yours, letting him in deeper than before.

“Yes,” you cry out when he ducks down to your neck, finding your familiar sweet spot within seconds while his cock still slides in and out of you with ease. “Yes, I want them to know.”

You know he’s right; you have no doubt that if there’s anyone walking by right now, it wouldn’t be that difficult to figure out what’s happening in here. The fogged up windows, the way the car is shaking slightly with the force of his vigorous thrusts… Yeah, it wouldn’t take a genius to know.

As his hips rock into yours, you have a hard time keeping your voice down, but it’s not like you’ve been very quiet from the start. Jungkook snakes a hand down to your bundle of nerves, where he rubs your clit in languid circles, contrary to the pace of his cock pounding into you.

“Let them know baby,” he coos, still kissing your neck. “Let them know I’m the only one who can make you feel this good. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

And so you do, gripping his shoulders tightly and arching your back into his chest as your second orgasm rips through your body, engulfing you in pure bliss that only he can give you. His name falls off your lips in breathless chants, your release gushing out of you and soaking his cock in your essence. The added moisture helps him fuck into you even more easily, and coupled with the way your pussy squeezes him like a vice, it doesn’t take long before he’s reaching his own high.

“Fuck, baby!” he cries, hips stuttering as his eyes roll back, his face pushed into the side of your neck as he cums, hot ropes of white painting your walls.

It isn’t unusual for him to call you that during sex. Baby, good girl, angel… Jungkook has a variety of those, take your pick.

His body slumps against yours, incredibly muscular that you’re almost squashed underneath his weight. You push him off, making him steady himself on his forearms on either side of your head but still letting him remain inside of you.

“Hi,” you say, smiling at him lazily.

“Hi,” he returns, and ducks down to press a chaste kiss against your mouth.

When he pulls back, you ask, “What was that? You were… generous today.”

Jungkook takes his bottom lip between his teeth nervously, and in a small voice, he says, “I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“Hmm?” You tilt your head, confused.

“Yeonjun,” he clarifies.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you swat at his chest. “You’re still on about that? I told you, he’s just a friend.”

“He didn’t look at you like he’s just a friend.”

“How was he looking at me then?”

He takes a few seconds to answer, thinking over his reply in his head and deciding if he should say it.

“The same way I look at you,” he murmurs as he stares into your eyes. “Like he wants you.”

“Jungkook–”

“I…” He stumbles over his words, breaking your gaze to look away, pulling his body just a little further back from you. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Oh.

You swallow. For some reason, your heart sinks.

Is that what tonight was? A parting gift before he moves on to someone else? You’re disappointed, because he’s undoubtedly the best lay of your life, but other than that, you’re also… a little hurt.

You move to push him off you, embarrassed that your friend with benefits is dumping you here in his car while his dick is softening inside of you, but he pins your wrists down.

“I like you,” Jungkook declares when you struggle out of his hold. You stop, your eyes widening and your breath getting caught in your throat. “I want to be more than just your friend. I want to take you out. I want to hold your hand and I want to kiss you in front of everyone. Show everyone that you’re mine.”

You’re stunned, to say the least. All the pet names and all the times he lingers by your doorway after a booty call. All the times he grows irritated by other people blatantly checking you out in public just like tonight. You’ve just thought that it was an ego thing.

After a moment, his face falls. He just licks his lips and nods quietly at your silence. He pulls out of you and goes to retrieve his shirt, but you tug him back, bringing him close to you again. You cringe slightly, feeling your combined releases trickle out of you and onto the seat.

“Okay,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck and hiding your face into the crook of his neck.

Jungkook places a hesitant hand on your waist. “Okay what?”

“Okay to what you just said. All of it.”

“Yeah?” He moves back slightly to cup your face, bunny smile peaking through his previous crestfallen expression. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” you confirm softly. “I like you too.”

His eyes twinkle as he gazes down at you, shy smile breaking into a happy grin now. His face descends upon yours but before your lips could meet, there’s a knock on the window.

He moves to shield your naked body with his broad shoulders and rolls down the tinted glass just enough for the person outside to look at his face.

“Dude,” Yeonjun coughs awkwardly, “can you move your car? It’s blocking mine.”

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means.

— permanent taglist: @mi55delulu @fan-ati--c @highly-functioning-mitochondria @bruisedscrewedandtattooed @morauvmi @jeonjcngkook @shownusshoulders @jungkooksseuphoria @yoongukie-ff @curioughts @taegismochi @libra04 @hrts4kook @mwitsmejk @jeonsorchid @here4btsfics @mytearsriscochet

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #bts fic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #btswritingcafe #btscarnivalnet #btsdreamcourt #btshoneyhive #bangtaninn #clubzerooclock #52hertz

[duketectivecomics]

[ID: An edit by @redroseworks advertising Duke Thomas Week 2023. The background consists of two panel edits of Duke in his Signal costume facing outwardly from the left and right side respectively, and a third Duke in the center in his civilian clothes facing the viewer straight on. There is a dot overlay on these panels and they are broken up into triangular comic panels. The dates and themes for Duke Week are listed in text boxes spread throughout, & are listed in further detail in the post below.]

Once again, it’s

Duke Week 2023!

Further info for this year’s Themes, Rules & Guidelines are under the cut! Be sure to spread the word!

Themes for 2023 (Sept 24th-30th):

Day 1 - Rebellion

From his rough start with Dr. Thompkins, to his rocky team-up with Black Lightning & the Outsiders, Duke’s always been quite the Rebel! Here’s a day to commemorate our Rebellious Rockin’ Robin!

Day 2 - Civilian Life

Duke’s time as a vigilante is full of intrigue & adventure, but what about his time outside of the mask? This day is all about exploring Duke’s civilian identity!

Day 3 - Fav Quote

From his introduction in Batman (2011) all the way up through his more recent appearances in Batman: Urban Legends, there’s plenty of quotes to pull from Duke. But which ones stand out among the crowd? Which ones have resonated the most with you? (And here’s a link to our Duke Reading guide in case you want a refresher!)

Day 4 - What is… Normal? (Meme/Free Day)

A free day for folks to share general Duke work, or of course, memes! This past year I’ve seen an influx as well with more general batfam fans questioning just how ‘normal’ or ‘sane’ our favorite bat is. And to that, I want to invite y’all to come on over and find out!

Day 5 - DnD, Wizards & Knights (oh my!)

One of Duke’s oldest special interests! He’s always been a bit of a fantasy nerd. This day is all about celebrating Duke’s hobbies of fantasy gaming and reading!

Day 6 - We Are Robins (Of the Future)

We’ve celebrated the We Are Robins of the Middletown collective before, but this year we’re predicting where they could go! Duke’s first team will always be an important part of his past, but how could they fit into his future?

Day 7 - Sun vs Moon

And to finish out this year’s Duke Week, we end on another note of duality. Duke’s a bat who operates mainly during the day, and occasionally is called upon at night. The bright sunlight of day may reveal something different about our hero compared to the cool moonlight of night.

Rules & Guidelines:

Tag your posts with “#dukeweek2023” &/or “#duke week 2023” for the event. For Best results use it as one of the first five tags & “@” this blog too. If the work is not reblogged here w/in 24 hrs, feel free to send it directly my way by DMing it to me!

Any medium of fanwork is allowed! Whether it’s fic, art, edits, mixes, meta, or more! In this same vein, multiple works for the same day are also allowed, provided they’re on-theme!

HOWEVER, No NSFW! The character is a minor at this point in canon and we want this week to be as inclusive to fans of all ages as possible.

Fics & ficlets that are posted on tumblr will also need a Read More cut to be up for reblogging. Use the : read more : function (no spaces before the colons) & press enter/return to add a cut to your fic! If linked through Ao3 or other fic websites, no cut is needed. Please provide adequate warnings as they apply to your fic, thank you!

Reposted/stolen art or edits will not be accepted or tolerated.

Got any questions about the event? The ask box is always open! (& remember to reblog & spread the word! Let’s have a GREAT DUKE WEEK!)

#duke thomas #dukeweek2023 #batfamily #batman and robin #batman and the outsiders #batman and the signal #we are robin #let’s goooooooooooooooo!!!!

[copperbadge]

Sam, how did you find your therapist and build such a good working relationship? Every attempt I’ve made at therapy seems to fizzle out after a few months… and no therapist has ever understood the RSD aspect of my ADHD, which makes it all feel a little worse every time I try.

I mean, I think really we're still building it -- I haven't had her more than a couple of months and functionally it's been an every-two-weeks situation most of the time because we keep having to move/cancel. I don't know that I can really speak intelligently to building a relationship with a therapist because this is the first time I've ever done it where I was an adult and in control. As for finding one...

Chicago has a group called Clarity Clinic, which is like a WeWork for mental health professionals -- they offer scheduling, billing, and IT/office space to local people who I think are mostly independent operators otherwise. They have a directory that is highly filterable, so I found my psychiatrist there by filtering to stuff like Adult ADHD and medication management. He's great, but he didn't want to be my therapist and I didn't want him to. When I decided on therapy, I asked him if he knew anyone he could recommend, since he knew what my deal was in terms of personality, behavior, etc.

So he gave me a couple of names of fellow Clarity Clinic folks and I had a look on the website and chose the one that sounded like she'd get on best with me. I think I struck it lucky to be honest -- she's young (compared to me) and has ADHD, and she's very familiar with disability discourse, spoon theory, etc, even fandom to an extent. If I were to go looking today I might look more at therapists who specialize in twice-exceptional individuals, but she's good enough with what I'm aiming at that I don't want to change.

So the best advice I have is if you're being treated for other stuff by someone you trust I'd ask them, but also look for someone experienced with adult ADHD, and I'd look for someone on the younger side who's more likely to be understanding of neurodivergent needs. (I also recommend filtering to queer-friendly therapists if you can; I didn't necessarily need that but it means they're likely to be generally accepting and probably have more liberal politics. With the caveat that in shady places like BetterHealth, "LGBTQIA" counselors are sometimes homophobic creeps with an axe to grind.)

Building the relationship has taken proactivity on my part -- ensuring that I always have an appointment on the books (we book out about six weeks in advance now, because we know one of us will likely need to cancel/rebook at times), making sure that I have either an aim for treatment or at least something to talk about, etc. I think in your case probably having a list of things you want to deal with, so that you can check some boxes up top, might help.

I would definitely open with "I have ADHD and I need help with [aspects of that]; I also have RSD and I need to work with someone who respects that diagnosis and understands how to help with it." I went into mine saying "I have ADHD and I'm also struggling with some really big emotion, so I'm looking for help with those, but also like...I'm not really sure what therapy can offer. I've had some bad experiences in the past but they were all when I was a child, so I'm trying to explore some options." Her reaction was a combination of sympathy and a discussion of the kinds of things we might work on, which helped a great deal.

But yeah, I think it starts with establishing right from the jump what you want and need, and then spending time making sure that you both stay on top of that until you find a rhythm. We're still finding our rhythm, but it's getting easier as I'm learning to be clearer about what I want and more comfortable with being a participant instead of someone therapy just happens to.

#therapy #sam has adhd

[itsawhumpsideblog]

The Safehouse, pt. 18

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things, medical setting, surgery, panic attack, flashbacks, broken bones and treatment of same

Advice from the Box Boy Liberation Movement:

Given the percentage of rescuees who enter a safehouse with one or more injuries or illnesses which will require medical attention, it is probable that you will be accompanying rescuees to medical appointments early in their time with you. Obtaining medical care can present unique challenges for rescuees and it is important to exercise complete patience with them in a doctor's office or hospital setting. Be aware that the atmosphere in such facilities may bring up difficult memories or even trauma reactions. Be prepared to help rescuees through anxiety or panic attacks, even flashbacks.

The surgery took longer than Angie had expected, or hoped and as it entered the third hour, she was glad that she had gone to get lunch right after they took Mikey. Finding the cafeteria, eating the sandwich, and getting lost on the way back had taken almost an hour and a half; a call to Tim and a chat with the rest of the household had taken another half hour. Since then, she had been sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chair, watching the clock and fidgeting. Not for the first time, she opened a game on her phone, played for a few minutes, closed it, and then opened it back up.

Angie tried the TV and found that it was showing an infomercial trying to delude senior citizens into converting their savings into gold bars. She fiddled with the remote, couldn't get it to work, and turned the TV back off. Then she played a podcast she couldn't concentrate on.

She was tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair and staring into space when the door finally opened and Wanda came in, holding some paperwork and smiling. Angie jumped up, fighting down a sudden surge of nervous, excited energy.

"It went great," Wanda said, before anything else. "He did just fine and the doctor said she thinks the procedure was a success."

"Oh, fantastic," Angie said. "That's amazing. I'm so glad to hear it!"

"Me, too. Now, let's go over some paperwork while they finish getting him in a cast and then they'll bring him back here to wake up a little bit. We want him awake and... well, usually we would say talking. But let's go with 'alert' this time. Once he's feeling a little more like himself, we can send him home."

"Sounds great!" Angie could have giggled in sheer relief.

"Okay, so there's no discharge paperwork, as such." Wanda flipped through the papers in the folder. "Not for the hospital, anyway. We've got a form here that should go to your Network contacts, detailing what the surgery was, the cost of it- not that Dr. Silva is charging, but just so their accounting folks are aware- and some discharge instructions." She handed the folder to Angie. "We should be done with him in the next half hour."

"Thank you so much!"

"Of course!" Wanda smiled and let herself back out.

Angie sank back down into the uncomfortable chair in relief, grinning to herself. Then she remembered her other responsibility and picked up her phone.

"Tim?" she asked, when he picked up.

"Yup, I'm here and you're on speakerphone."

"Oh, super, thanks. Hi, guys! I just heard from the nurse. She says Mikey did really well and they're going to bring him back in a few minutes. We'll give him some time to wake up and then we should be on our way home in a couple hours. Just wanted to let you know."

"Did they give you the instructions and everything?" Tim asked.

"Yup, all the paperwork we need. I'll hand it off to you when we get back."

"Excellent, thanks. Text when you're on the way and I'll meet you outside, okay?"

"Yup, will do."

"Thanks for calling, we'll see you soon."

"See you soon!" She hung up, took a deep breath, and sat back to wait.

Mikey was unaware that he had woken up, the first time it happened. He had the impression of being somewhere soft, softer than the garden had ever been before, and warm, too. For the first time he could remember- the first time since the drugs had taken his memory away- there was no pain. He felt like he was floating in a warm cloud and his head was light and sleepy. He let the clouds carry him gently away.

Angie watched Mikey as he lay in the hospital bed, waiting for the anesthesia to wear off and for him to start coming around. He was totally still, which he had been for much of the past week, since his fall, but it felt different this time. He wasn't holding himself rigid, nervous and braced against pain. Instead, he just lay quietly, slightly slack-jawed as he slept. Once, his head stirred and a faint smile lifted one corner of his mouth before he sighed in soft contentment and his breathing slowed and evened as he drifted back off to sleep.

He was still sleeping when Dr. Silva came in with post-surgical information for Angie, outlining instructions for monitoring Mikey's recovery, acceptable activity levels, and a basic plan for continuing treatment.

"He did well," she said at last. "I know we really kept you waiting but-" she shook her head. "There was a lot to fix. He's going to be in the casts for a long time and some sort of brace for even longer. I'm not sure I can say exactly how long it'll be, not until we see how his healing is progressing. We're talking months, though, not weeks. The scarring is likely to be extensive, although we did our best. And his joints will probably always ache a little, especially that shoulder." She sighed. "I really wish it was all better news. But there is some good news, which is that when this is all said and done, eventually he'll be able to use his hands and arms. And he won't be in nearly as much pain, which is the important part. The process won't be pretty, but when it's done, everything will be much, much better."

"Thank you," Angie said. "He would thank you, too, if he could." She looked over and smiled at Mikey, still resting peacefully.

The peace did not last.

When the anesthesia wore off, Mikey woke suddenly and completely, the way he had done when he slept every night outdoors and needed to respond instantly to his Master. When his eyes snapped open, he realized that something was very, very wrong.

All he could see were white walls and a white ceiling with bright lights that seemed to shine directly into his eyes. The brightness stung and Mikey squeezed his eyes shut for just a second, as if, when he opened them, he might find himself somewhere more familiar.

But when he gathered his courage for a second look, nothing had changed. He was still in the strange, monochrome room with the blinding lights and he was lying down. Nearby, something was beeping ominously and Mikey felt his heart speed up and adrenaline dump into his system, like it did when he heard those first footsteps cracking a stick somewhere in the dark at the edge of Master's property.

His mind was still hazy from the drugs and not really awake yet, and Mikey had the terrible, foreboding sense that he wasn't supposed to be there- wherever "there" was.

It never occurred to him to be frightened by the fact that he did not remember having come to the strange, white room. Mikey lacked memories of so much that this new gap in his life was barely meaningful. What was very meaningful was that Master was going to wonder where he had gone.

Then, suddenly, Mikey had a flash of memory of another Pet, tall and thin and dark-haired, bringing him fruit wrapped in a towel, and his stomach clenched. If he was here, what had happened to the other Pet? Was he here, too, or had he been sent... Mikey could not even imagine where else the other pet might have been sent. But he knew it would be bad.

All these thoughts crossed Mikey's mind within seconds, a collection of fears and memories and associations that came to him automatically and without larger context. Then he realized, again, that he was lying down on a soft surface and he broke into a cold sweat.

Soft surfaces were not for Pets. He must not be found here. He had to move, whatever it cost him. The cost would be so much higher if they caught him like this.

But when Mikey tried to sit up, he couldn't. Something tugged at his face- a muzzle? It was blowing cold air into his nose. And he couldn't seem to bend his body to begin sitting, or force his aching muscles to lift him. Mikey looked frantically around but without actually taking in his surroundings.

He dropped one leg over the side of whatever the soft surface was and tried again to sit up and found that was impossible. When he swung his right arm up to try to shift his balance and rise, he was horrified to find that it was restrained, tied up in some kind of cloth, and he couldn't even see his fingers properly, only the very ends of them. When he tried to wiggle them, pain shot down his fingers and they didn't even move.

Even worse, his left arm was immobile. He couldn't see it under the blanket, but it was probably tied to something, strapped tightly down to keep him from doing what he knew a good Pet should do. He strained every muscle trying to sit up, kicked his legs to shift his balance, threw his right arm forward in almost grotesque exertion. But he barely moved.

When the door opened, if Mikey had been able to make a sound, he would have screamed. As it was, his eyes widened, his fight-or-flight response in full activation, and he tried one last time in futile terror to right himself.

"Oh my god," Mistress gasped. "Mikey, what- I was only gone for a second- I'm so, so sorry." She hurried over to the bed. "Hey, hey- careful, you- oh geez-" She put a steadying hand on his right shoulder and finally Mikey's eyes landed on her face.

It all came flooding back to him in a rush, like being struck. The terrible beating they had given him the night his old Master died; the time in a cage; the journey to live with Master and Mistress.

Then, even better, he remembered everything that had come since. A comfortable bed he was meant to use and enough food to eat and a television to watch; Nathan's cheerful company and the joy of being re-united with someone who had become a friend; gentle Francis who told him stories when he couldn't sleep and who held his head when he had fallen and was hurting.

Best of all, he remembered that Master smiled and laughed and spoke softly, and that Mistress talked to him like she enjoyed his company and she had kind hands and Master and Mistress looked after them and never, never hurt them.

Mikey remembered all these things in a flash of knowledge, the same sudden wash of memory that only moments before had caused him such terror, and then he realized that Mistress was standing over him with her hand on his shoulder. If it had been any of his old Masters, Mikey would have been frightened but he found that even now, standing like that, Mistress didn't frighten him at all. She didn't look angry, only dismayed and- maybe even worried.

He looked up at her as if he was searching for answers to many questions and she smiled comfortingly at him. "Do you remember where you are?"

Mikey wasn't sure and didn't know whether to nod or shake his head, so he simply waited and watched her.

"You're in the hospital," she reminded him and now he did nod, a little uncertainly. That might be true- he might remember the morning, if that wasn't a dream.

"You had surgery, to fix your shoulder and your hands and everything. You won't remember that, because you were asleep for it, but it's over now." He nodded again. "The doctor says you're going to be fine- your hands and arms will be a lot better when you're done healing."

He gave her another nod, since she probably expected it, but he wondered if she would explain why they had tied his left arm down. Mikey felt that there must be a reason for it, but something was making his head feel fuzzy and it was hard to think. Hoping she would understand, he raised his bound right hand and looked questioningly down at it.

"Yeah," she said, as if she was continuing a conversation. "I know that probably feels weird. And it's going to be hard, not having your right hand to use, even a little bit-"

Wait. What did she mean, he wasn't going to have his hand anymore? Forgetting the strange stiffness holding his left arm and the way he was restrained from sitting up, Mikey tried to raise himself and looked frantically from his hand to Mistress. His hand was still there, wasn't it? He could see his fingertips, a little bit, under the heavy bandages and surely it wouldn't hurt so badly when he tried to move it if he didn't have a hand-

Mistress made a face that Mikey didn't realize was guilt. "You don't remember what happened at all, do you?" she asked. He shook his head, a little frantically now, starting to feel his heart speed up and beginning to sweat.

"Oh geez. I'm sorry," she said, and he was surprised to find that she actually seemed to mean it. "I'll start from the beginning. So, during the surgery, they basically put all your bones back where they're supposed to be, right? So they can heal and they won't hurt all the time." Now Mikey nodded again as the memory slipped through the fog in his head, of Master explaining this at home last week.

"And now that it's done, they have to hold all those bones and joints and whatever still, so they can heal. So everything will stay where it's supposed to be. Right?" A nod. "And to do that, they put on some casts. The one on your right hand is like what Nathan had on his leg when he first came home. Remember that?" Mikey found that he did.

"They need your whole hand not to move for- I don't know, a long time. Like a couple months, at least. And they did the same thing to your left arm and your shoulder, but that was a lot worse and it's kind of an awkward spot, so they put the cast over your whole arm and then they attached it around your body to hold your shoulder still."

Mikey just stared. So he wasn't actually tied to the bed? But he couldn't move his arm at all. Well- he hadn't really been able to before, either. Maybe in some ways, this wouldn't be so different.

"Do you want to see it?" Mistress asked. She almost sounded nervous and Mikey wondered if he should be nervous, too. Very gently, Mistress drew back the blanket that covered Mikey from his shoulders down, except where he had thrown it off trying to get up.

When he could see it, he stared at his left arm. The cast was blue and covered his shoulder and then went all the way down over his fingers, just like the one on the right. His arm was bent at the elbow so that his forearm was parallel to the floor and angled across the front of his body. There was a band of the same material around his chest, holding his arm still.

"Does it feel really weird?" Mistress asked, and he didn't even bother to nod. Somehow, he felt that she would know his answer.

"Don't worry," Mistress told him, but it sounded more like an offer than an order. "We'll take care of you. You're going to be just fine."

Mikey nodded, but he thought that getting used to this was not going to be easy.

Next Time: Mikey comes home from the hospital, to his housemates' great relief.

Master List

Notes: These keep being longer than I expected, so I'm adjusting the previously listed summary to account for that. A good problem to have!

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds, @honeycollectswhump @taterswhump, @starfields08000 @whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial

#bbu #box boy universe #box boy whump #whump #whumpee #the safehouse #pet whump #surgery whump #medical whump

[littledigits]

Hello..

Not sure if this is going to makes sense..... but

How does one approach studying Timing and Spacing in animation ?

Like, how would you go about taking notes/

Or observing and studying Spacing and Timing of an animated scene mindfully, so you could apply it to your own work.

Do people just watch an scene they like on something like youtube, and go frame by frame, noting down how many frames have past between each keyframe as well as the spacing by thumbnailing them down ?

I'm honestly kinda overwhelmed, and frustrated cause I have a hard time nailing down the kind of timing I want (specificlly getting that 'snap' kinda feel)...

I don't like how 'floaty' or 'smooth(?)' things tend to turn out when i try to animate ;-;

IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE. My friend I give you big support vibes cuz I had such a hard time understanding timing and spacing. It comes easier for some but not others and thats ok. I had to learn how to be boring with it before I got comfortable enough to experiment and I can still easily get stuck in my box. I would say that reference is a HUGE PART of making animation work. Over time you can build up your mental library and you may not need as much and just go off of your own thought process but thats something you build up to. And most people when they start will find things either can be jittery or too even, and thats just part of training your eye! Snappy animation can be tough too ! but thats why learning from it is GREAT. Gosh theres so much you can learn from frame by framing things - especially classic hand drawn stuff. So i 100% would recommend finding some ref of the style you want to emulate and just try it out and 100% -figure out how many frames in between , seeing just how much they manipulate the pose, anything really! Its not about getting it all right, its just about breaking it down and learning a few things at a time and going 'OH maybe ill try that out next time' I think you going ' hey this feels too floaty and isint the vibe' is you exactly describing what the problem is. Your in-betweens are probably very evenly spaced out- but thats a really common problem when people first start. But the solution is just as you said - REF. And in animation that is more of a part of the job then anything honestly, same with storyboard. and learning a lot from eachother. I FEEL YOU THOUGH. I was there too, and it took me longer then others to be able to get what I want. But you're on the right track , just dive in to doing that good good frame by frame and then trying it out yourself ! here are some links that you may find useful as well ! https://gingercatsneeze.tumblr.com/post/145037677357/1-ah-fai-was-a-chief-animator-for

HOPE THAT HELPS ! <3

#IT TOOK ME AWHILE TO EVEN -LIKE- ANIMATION BUT NOW I LOVE TALKING ABOUT IT

[justanotherkpopstanlol]

Not a one time thing

Pairing: Ghostface! Aemond Targaryen x reader x Ghostface! Jacaerys Velaryon

Word count: 3,179

C.W: cussing, mentions of murder/serial killings, Ghostface, Aemond, Ghostface! Aemond, Ghostface! Jace, Jace (These are deadass all warnings on their own), fem reader (could be read as otherwise but is fem focused), dom Aemond, dom Jace, sub reader, praise kink, oral (reader receiving), very slight fear kink, p in v, threesome, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), double penetration, soft sex, slightly rough sex at times, fingering (reader receiving), slight dumbification, sub space, overstimulation, tummy bulge, slight breeding kink, slight edging, reader doesn’t know that Ghostfaces are Jace and Aemond at first, nicknames (pretty girl, angel, sweetheart, good girl, baby, many more omg), poc friendly, reader is meant to be shorter than Jace and Aemond, reader has hair that’s at the very least shoulder length, don’t mind me just projecting

Part 2

Author's notes: I tried lol, this is the first smut I've written and first fic and smut in second person I've written so hopefully it's good. Enjoy :)

The phone rang loudly, the sound echoing throughout the house. The shrill ringtone of the landline, something that nearly no one had anymore, was a deafening noise in the silence that currently occupied the home. The sound made you shudder, nearly covering your ears from the high pitch of it.

Recently, there had been quite a few people who had gotten phone calls on their landlines. All of them ended up dead. Maybe the killer has something against landlines, perhaps they had something against what others called “vintage” (but let’s face it, landlines aren’t that old). Now in hindsight, it was a bad idea to pick up but hey you only live once right and also you may or may not be kind of stupid? It wasn’t easy to ignore the ringing anyway, so you did what any insane person would do and picked up the phone.

“Hello?” Silence. For a moment, you could hear shuffling and then a greeting followed by your name being said by a rather attractive voice. It seemed heavily modulated but there was no denying that it sent a tingling throughout your body.

“Yeah? Who is this?” You asked, having not recognized who this could be. Why would someone be calling you on a Friday night? Looking over to the clock on the stove, its bright green digits read ‘11:51’. It was getting late and you couldn’t sleep, so you opted to watch a horror film because that’ll put you to sleep.

Popcorn bag in one hand and landline in the other, you moved towards the microwave and put the bag in once removing the plastic from it. Setting the timer, you hear a response.

“No one in particular. I just wanted to talk, pretty girl.” The name made you blush although with everything going on, this phone call left an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Jace, is this you? You know how I feel about prank calls, douche. Do I need to tell Aunt Nyra what you keep in that box under your bed-”

“This isn’t Jace, sweetheart.” The voice said. “Although, I am intrigued by what it is he keeps under his bed.” This was getting weird. Who could this be? Sounded like they knew Jace.

“Okay seriously man, who the fuck are you? I’ll have you know my boyfriend is a highly trained martial artist and athlete.” Maybe this wasn’t the brightest idea but hopefully it’d get the creep to stop. With any luck, this wasn’t that landline murder dude.

“Ahh yes, how could I forget?” He asked rhetorically. “What was his name again? Aemond Targaryen?” Goosebumps. How did he know? Maybe you did know who this was, maybe this was a stalker.

“You look so pretty right now, angel. Those pajamas really compliment your skin and body.” What the fuck. How could he see you inside your own house?

You were wearing a pretty cami and shorts, both trimmed with lace although they both seemed just barely long enough to cover anything. He saw you in this. The thought made the color drain from your face. Collecting your thoughts, you jumped into action. Running over to the large glass of the door that led to the porch, pulling the curtains to cover it. Then making your way to the front door and ensuring it was locked, you went to the side door. There it was, open all the way. The light outside by the door was flickering making the sight even more unsettling.

“Oh, do you want to see me? Come and find me, baby.” He nearly purred out. You could hear the amusement in his voice as you let out a sharp gasp. Bolting to the door, you move to close it. Luckily, no one was by it but that meant one of two things. He was either still outside or worse, he was in the house.

“Look I’m sorry if I did or said something wrong, okay? Just please leave me alone, please.” You were genuinely afraid. For all you know, by the end of the night you could be another kill to add to the count. At your plea, there was a chuckle.

“Oh just when I thought I couldn’t fall more in love with you. I love it when you beg.” And then, you heard a thud. It sounded close, down the hall maybe. You slowly made your way down the hall, keeping each step quiet.

All of a sudden, the line went dead. The end tone was so loud you dropped the phone. As it dropped, a tall black figure popped up and pushed you against the wall in the hallway. You let out a scream and held your breath, as though that might make you disappear. Slowly, you looked up and came face to face with the lunatic landline killer himself.

His right hand was on the wall by your face and his left rested leisurely on your hip. The hand on your hip pulled it forward, your lower halves flush against one another. You feel his hard on poking you and for some reason, it sends a hot flash to your core. The hand that was on the wall moved to caress your face gently, slowly moving towards your chin and tilting it, forcing you to make eye contact. Your eyes widen, heart beating inhumanely fast.

“So beautiful,” The same voice from the phone says. “And all mine.” He finishes, leaving you to furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

His hand goes from your face to the hood of the long black gown he wore, pulling it down and taking off the mask to reveal Aemond. Your Aemond. He stood there in all his glory, looking almost too attractive to be mad at. Almost.

“You ass! I thought I was gonna die.” At this, he pulls you into a tight embrace. A comforting hand stroking your hair and the other holding you tight while his pretty pink lips left a light kiss on your temple.

“I’m sorry, love. You know I would never hurt you.” He says, pushing you lightly away from him and cradling your face in his hands. You look back into his beautiful blue eye, the other nearly white with a jagged scar running down it. You both lean in and meet in the middle for what starts as a tender kiss. To say the kiss melted away any worries and fear you had was an understatement. It was as though everything dissolved into nothingness as Aemond held you so tenderly, with so much love as though you would shatter if he held you too tight or if he kissed you too hard. He gently nipped at you bottom lip, his tongue poking out very briefly to lick it and resume kissing you softly and moving away from the wall, towards the middle of the hall.

If you focused hard enough, you could ever so faintly hear the sound of the side door opening and closing. Just as soon as your attention went back to Aemond after hearing the sound, you were once again drawn out of your cloud by another pair of hands joining Aemond’s own. A body pressed to your backside, one hand resting on your hip as the other moved your hair to one side, the tickling sensation making you part from Aemond and jump slightly. You look over your shoulder and see Jace. Yet another gasp escapes you, now feeling both him and Aemond poking you, one from behind and the other from the front.

“Jace?” You ask, voice just barely above a whisper. Jacaerys Velaryon was your dearest friend, having known each other since diapers and the crush you had on him all these years didn’t help. He looks down at you, wearing a similar black gown to Aemond. His warm brown eyes full of nothing but adoration. He smiles at you. He says your name in such a way that it makes you weak, legs shaking ever so slightly.

“I called him here, my love. I’ve always known of your affections to him, I thought maybe I could share you for one night. Anything to make you happy.” Aemond’s tone is so soft, his words carefully crafted to not overwhelm you. Not yet, at least.

“Wha-” You’re interrupted by Jace turning you to face him, his lips barely touching yours. He pauses.

“Say the word and I’ll stop right away. Okay, pretty?” His tone was just as gentle as Aemond’s had been moments before. Looking at Aemond who gave you an encouraging nod and looking back to Jace, you nod as well. You want this, you really truly do. Without any further hesitation, Jace moves his lips back to where they were before, leaving the smallest gap. He waits for you to make the first move and you do.

The kiss is everything you thought it would be like. It was slow, sweet and soft and just so Jace. While you were kissing Jace, Aemond moved away for a moment. He backs up just enough to let his hands wander. They move towards your top first, tugging the thin straps of it down your shoulder. His hands went to grip your waist as his lips made their way to your neck. He left a gentle peck, momentarily pulling your attention only to be pulled back to Jace when he kisses you with more fervor.

“My love?” Aemond calls, fingertips brushing your bare shoulder. You and Jace pull apart, both panting and catching your own breaths. You look towards him, still panting slightly, and hum.

“Perhaps we should move to somewhere more comfortable, to our room?” He asks. You nod and are immediately taken by Jace, into his arms bridal style. The pair lead you up the stairs, to your room at the end of the hall on the right of the second story. Aemond opens the door, taking off his black gown to reveal a white shirt that clung to his torso oh so deliciously and a pair of jeans that did little to hide his hard on. Jace does the same once he places you on the bed, Aemond making his way to your side.

Aemond moves his hands to your top, looking at you briefly before taking it off completely. He makes sure not to rip it as your breasts are exposed to the cool air of the room, nipples hardening even more at the temperature. Jace moves towards your other side on the bed, hands lingering on your sides just beneath the breasts before making their way to the waistband of your shorts. Tugging the shorts and your panties down in one swift motion, also very careful not to rip the delicate fabric. This was his and Aemond’s favorite set you wore, they couldn’t risk ripping it especially since it made you look so innocent. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this very situation. It was so painfully obvious he wanted you, that’s why Aemond offered this to him. They were killing together, if his baby wanted then they could fuck together too.

Aemond, becoming uncomfortable in his jeans, quickly yanked them off alongside his shirt. Jace decides to follow suit and they both return to your side before you even realize they are gone. This whole ordeal left your mind in a haze, now clouded by nothing but sheer lust and desire. All you wanted was them, all you needed was them.

Jace’s hands immediately go to your breasts, pinching the nipples and rolling them between his fingers. You let out a small moan at this, causing Jace to smile. Aemond moves his own hands lower, down to your core. His fingers tease your clit, after hearing a prolonged whine of protest from you he concedes and pushes a finger into you. He pumps his finger slowly at first and gradually picks up pace. You let out a louder moan this time and then a squeal when Jace takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing at it. His other hand fondles the other breast, giving them both the attention they deserve.

“Don’t hold back, darling. Let us hear those pretty sounds.” Aemond says, adding a second and third finger and moving his face down. He begins to suckle on your clit harshly, fingers now pumping at an unrelenting speed. Jace finally stops his own attack on your breasts, having moved to the other one a moment ago. He now prompts to kiss your lips, planting short pecks on them and moving to your neck. He sucks and bites until he reaches a spot that causes you to gasp. He smiles against your skin, moans increasing at the dual stimulation. Aemond smiles too, taking his fingers out and replacing this with his tongue as a finger goes to rub your clit. You let out moan after moan, the stimulation too much but not enough at the same time.

Aemond takes one of your legs, moving it to rest on his shoulder and not even a second later you nearly scream. You were oh so close now, he knew this and Jace knew it too. Jace moved to leave love bites on your breasts as Aemond detached from your pussy long enough to say “Come.” and resumes his task. Your body spasms and you scream out, Aemond riding out your high and Jace kissing you once more, one of his hands holding your own close to his heart.

Aemond comes up from between your legs, his face glistening with your juices and he leans in to kiss you, pushing Jace’s face away. You can taste yourself on him, both of you moaning into the kiss and Jace drawing little circles on your thighs. Aemond breaks the kiss, looking at you with adoration once more. He takes his cock in his hands, pumping it a few times and lining it up with your pussy.

“Been such a good girl for us, love. Our good girl, yeah?” Jace asks rhetorically, you nod to what he says.

“Ready for me, sweetness? I’ll need you to use your words, okay?” Aemond asks, looking for any signs of hesitation.

“Am ready,” You say quietly. “Want this. So much. Aem, Jace please.” You look between the two of them. They look at each other before returning their attention towards you, both smiling widely. They knew that this was the only thing you could think about now and knowing they had this effect on you just made them even harder. Aemond slowly inserts himself inside, inch by inch going deeper as your pussy swallows him.

“So wet, my love. So tight.” Aemond groans, hips stuttering and stopping when he’s fully inside. He waits a few moments to let you adjust, beginning to thrust when he sees you nod at him. His pace is slow at first, much like how most of this whole ordeal has been, and increases as time passes. He thrusts faster, harder, with more and more fervor. He couldn’t get enough of you; how tight you are, how wet you are. No matter how many times you have sex, or make love, he can never get enough of you. Your pussy clenches so beautifully, his cock twitching and pulsing as he gets closer to his release.

All of a sudden, he stops. Aemond flips the two of you over so you are now on top of him, he begins to thrust again. Even faster, harder and at such a delicious angle that it has you seeing stars. But once again, just as you are near your orgasm, he stops.

Another pair of hands come to rest on your waist, just above Aemond’s. You whine and try to move up and down on Aemond’s cock but two pairs of hands hold you in place.

“S’okay pretty baby, it’s just me. Can’t leave me out of the fun now can you?” Jace asks teasingly, you shaking your head just wanting a release. Jace chuckles at your desperation, Aemond joining too. You whine, wanting nothing more than to orgasm again. You were so close and it was taken from you after all. Jace takes his own cock in one hand, the other still on your waist. The head rubs on your folds, right by Aemond’s cock, him letting out a quiet moan.

“Well get on with it,” He urges. “Can’t you see our good girl is needy.” And with that, Jace slowly inserts his own cock beside Aemond. The stretch was a bit painful, both not being small in size, but at the same time the sting felt good. Once Jace was fully inside, all three of you let out a moan. Jace and Aemond could feel you squeezing them both, trying to accommodate their sizes. A minute passes, then two and you begin to relax.

“Please.” You let out a quiet plea, and who were they not to oblige their sweet baby? Both men begin their thrusts, slow and steady. Jace thrusting in as Aemond thrust out and vice versa, never leaving a moment where you weren’t full. A bump appeared on your stomach, Aemond letting out a quiet ‘fuck’ when he sees it. He places his hand on it and pushes down, all three of you letting out a moan. You all were so close to finishing now, Aemond and Jace picking up the pace now. Not soon after, you came. The orgasm was long and hit you with such a force that you slumped onto Aemond, body completely giving out on you. The pair continued their thrusts, chasing their own orgasms now.

Their thrusts become faster and faster, close to their own releases. Aemond comes first, his cum shoots into you and painting your walls. You moan out of overstimulation, Jace coming soon after Aemond and both of them fucking it all right back into you. Finally, Aemond lifts you slightly and removes his cock, Jace following suit and leaving you empty.

Jace moves you to lay on your back on the bed, both admiring you before Aemond moves to get a washcloth. He cleans you up as Jace calms you when you whimper and move away, so sensitive to the touch now. Tears begin to roll down your face, Jace kisses them away. Aemond picks your limp body up, taking you to the bathroom now to pee. He wasn’t going to risk any infections, not now and not ever. Once you two return, the three of you lie in bed. Your head rests on Jace’s chest and Aemond’s arms curl around you.

They both take a moment to look at you, your eyes nearly shut. You were so exhausted that you could sleep for days. Right before losing consciousness, you mumble out a ‘I love you both’ and drift off. Jace and Aemond look at each other briefly, their attention returning to you once more. They both knew that they loved you too. Now it was clear. This would definitely not be a one time thing.

#aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys smut #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd smut #hotd x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #scream au #ghostface au #modern au #please tell me this is good #this better be good #smut #x reader

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

10 & 11 with Paul please?

10. So apparently we have a vampire in the attic?

11. "I am not going to rob a hospital so you can drink blood."

--------------------------

With a sigh, I closed the trunk, carrying the final box inside the house my best friend and I just bought. It had been an absolute steal - an old wooden house that was well taken care of for only a hundred thousand dollars. Amy and I had found it rather suspicious that a house this big would go for such little money, but miss Emerson had assured us that she wanted to sell it to some folks who would love the house as much as she once did.

So, knowing we had to move to be able to work around Santa Carla - Amy in the hospital and me at a dispatch centre - we decided to just take the deal. It was good. The place was awesome. We had enough space to live together, but we could also definitely have our own spaces.

"Was that it?" Amy asked as she stood in the kitchen, unpacking some of the supplies we'd brought along. I chuckled as I saw an "old fart" sign inside the fridge as she opened it.

"Yeah. I'm putting it upstairs, we can decide on rooms later. Is it okay if we do take out tonight?"

Amy nodded, handing me a leaflet - but as she realised I couldn't exactly take it from her, she put it on top of the box I was holding. As I walked upstairs, I couldn't help but feel that this was exactly right. No more big city drama, no more crazy things happening at the job. Just an easy live, in a calm and quiet town.

After calling the local pizza parlour for our order, Amy and I spent the rest of the night unpacking. We had decided on rooms, her taking the bigger one since her shifts were irregular, and she would need to wake up earlier - or come back later. That way, she could do so without worrying about the noise. Besides, the room I'd picked was nice as well. It had a walk-in closet of sorts and a big spacious window looking out on the grassland outside.

The next two days we spent like that, unpacking, decorating, organising - and in those two days the house began to feel like a home. I smiled as Amy left to go to work, enjoying the fact I'd have the house to myself that evening. Yesterday, we found the attic, and I had been planning on getting all our Christmas decorations and other stuff up there.

There weren't many boxes that had to go up there, but it took me a while to get them there. When I got up the attic with the last box, I tripped over some loose planks, stumbled forward and was about to drop the box when-

"Here, let me take that from you."

I screamed as a guy took the box from my hands, pushing me back into balance.

"Who the fuck are you?!"

"I live here."

"Who are you?!" I had grabbed an old, plastic Christmas topper and held it in my hand as if it were a knife. It was a pathetic weapon, but it was all I had at the moment. The guy was blocking the exit.

"I'm Paul."

"Okay, Paul," I said his name, not sure if it truly belonged to him, "I need you to get out of my attic."

"Eh- yeah, I can't do that."

"And why not?"

"Did Lucy give you the house papers?"

"Miss Emerson? Yeah, she did. Why?"

"You got the house. Not the attic."

"Then why weren't you downstairs in the past three days, hm? What, you're just creeping up here watching us sleep or something?"

He laughed - he actually laughed at what I had just said. "Why would I do that? Sleeping humans are lame, you know that!"

"Humans?"

"Yeah, it's what you are, right?"

"And you're not?" I asked him, even though I absolutely wondered how ridiculous this conversation would get. Surely he was just as much human as I was?

"No."

Shit.

"Then what are you?"

"Vampire."

Double shit. I looked at him, at the Christmas topper in my hand, and I shook my head.

"Listen, I don't know what you're on, but I'd advise you to get clean, alright? I'll look through the papers, and if what you're saying is right, the attick is yours. You're not invited into the rest of the house."

I didn't know if vampires worked that way, but if he truly was a vampire, not inviting him seemed like a good idea, right?

"There's no reason to be scared." He said as he saw me walk towards the wooden steps. He had moved aside, standing in a beam of light coming from outside.

"We just bought a house with a strange guy living in the attic. Excuse me if I am not totally relaxed right now."

"You know my name, and what I am. I mean, if you want me to not be a strange guy you could get to know me."

"No."

I was halfway down the steps.

"I don't even know your name!" He called after me, but I ignored him, looking for the papers he'd mentioned. I found them in the kitchen drawer, and sear he'd through them to find anything about the attic.

The attic belongs to Mr. Paul, who has chosen not to use a last name. He is allowed to live in the attic as long as he meets the following conditions:

1. He promises not to harm any of the living staying in this house.

2. He won't bring any of his victims in or near the house.

3. Nor will he clean up evidence of his feedings inside the house.

4. If present or future residents ask him to leave the attic, he can only do so if they have provided him with another sun-free location.

Mr. Paul has proven himself to be a vampire but has agreed to the terms and conditions in this contract in order to heal from his injuries sustained in an accident back in 1987.

I sighed as I dropped the papers. These were legal. Fucking legal papers talking about a vampire? Living in our - I picked up the phone and dialed Amy.

"What's up?"

"So apparently we have a vampire in the attic?"

"What?!"

"Yes. Exactly."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah? I mean, he didn't hurt me or anything but-"

"Is he for real? Like - vampires?"

"I don't know? The papers say so."

"What papers?" Amy asked.

"The contract, you know, the ones we signed to buy this place."

"Shit, I knew we should gave read through them."

"Yeah," I sighed. "But we can't evict him, and by law he's bound by rules like not to kill us or to bring kills home or evidence of kills..."

"But if what he's saying is true, we're living with a vampire?"

"Yeah."

"Alright," Amy sounded a little light-headed, "I think I'm going to hang up and faint for a bit, alright?"

"Amy? Amy?!" But I got no response. I hung up the phone, and decided to go back upstairs. If he really was a vampire, I needed proof. Also, if he really was a vampire living with two humans, I needed to know more about him.

"So, I found the papers."

"Good!" Paul sat on the ground, a joint in his hand. "So, whats up?"

"I need proof."

"What more do you need? Those papers are-"

"Not about you owning the attic, but about the whole vampire thing." I looked at him. "It sounds far fetched."

He grinned, and within seconds his kind - what? - face had turned demonic. His face had sharpened, his eyes turned an orange so bright it seemed to glow, his teeth razor sharp.

"Shit."

"You've got nothing to worry about!" He grinned as he morphed back. "I have made a vow to not hurt any living being in this house."

"But if you're hungry and we are outside?"

"Depends on the kind of roommates you are."

I paled, realising that if he was serious, this could also be a very serious problem.

"So, ehm, if we were to stay here, you know - and live with you - is there anything we need to be aware of?"

"I've got all I need up here, basically. But, if you want to be kind, I could do with some bloodbags."

"And how would I get those?" I mean, of course I knew how to get them, but no way would I ever do that.

"Just rob the hospital."

"I am not going to rob a hospital so you can drink blood."

"You could ask your friend, she works there, right?"

"I'm not asking Amy to steal blood for you!"

With a pout, he looked at me. "Then you leave me no choice but to eat you."

"I know where you sleep. I will fucking stake you if you even think about it."

"I was kidding!" He said quickly - too quickly if you asked me. Suddenly it clicked.

"Wait, you - someone staked you?"

He shook his head. "No, my best friend. He died before my eyes."

"Sorry."

He sighed. "We wanted revenge, you know. Eye for an eye, and that kind of thing. Dwayne got electrocuted. He burned up the minute that arrow hit him. David survived initially, not being staked through the heart, but when the Emersons found out, they laid him out in the sun to burn."

"How did you survive?" I asked quietly.

"I didn't. A dog pushed me into a tub with holy water, and I practically exploded. There were pieces of me everywhere. Lucy was the one to clean everything up, and as she had a bucket filled with pieces of me, she accidentally cut herself. Her blood started to heal me. Little by little, she fed me some blood, and after almost a year, I was back to my old self. She kept me here so the sun wouldn't get to me, and her sons wouldn't find out."

"You're welcome to stay here," I said softly. "And if you promise not to bite either me or Amy, you're also welcome to hang out downstairs if you want."

He has a soft smile on his face.

"We won't do any blood deliveries, but I am willing to cook for three."

"Deal."

I smiled, taking his outstretched hand. "Well then, nice to meet you, Paul."

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #dwayne #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #star #the lost boys x reader

[chronically-ghosted]

So, it's October -- crazy, right? About three months ago, I got waaay too emotionally invested in Din Djarin and baby Grogu and the Razor Crest and, well, here we are. This blog served as a way to unleash the infectious brainrot of Pedro back into the ecosystem, hopefully finding another victim. What I got back, is community. I've been in fandom for over ten years and I can honestly say I've never seen a fandom that is so kind, so supportive, so eager to share and talk and engage with others.

So, in the three months since this blog was created, you lovely people continue to show up and everyday I am gobsmacked at the growth and support. I genuinely don't know how I would have survived these last few months had I not met some of you, so as the (shoddily made) gif says: thank you.

I've just now wrapped up my 100 Followers Event Challenge (y'all sent me so many fantastic prompts I had SO much fun!). If you're interested, they're on my masterlist or you can find them all here on this post. I'm taking an itty bitty break from writing for just a bit (might be getting a new job too) but when i come back, i can't wait to share what comes next for all our pedro blorbos!)

Now that I'm a bit more settled and have had the chance to meet some of these fantastic creators, I'd love to share them out with you:

My Favorite Places to Make PPCU Friends (Discord Servers):

Pedro Pascal Cinematic Universe (I got invited by @jupiter-soups)

Space Sisters - give @psychedelic-ink a shout if you'd like to join!

My Favorite Compilations for Fics:

Favourite Fanfic Stories (managed by @morallyinept)

Sanctuary Database (managed by @pascalsanctuary)

Spreadsheet Digest (managed by @wannab-urs)

(these folks are also some of the nicest people you'll ever meet so please do yourself a favor and go follow them)

My Favorite Creators:

@perotovar is a next level gifmaker

@trulybetty has some of the best designs i've ever seen

@daddy-dins-girl has some of the best pedro character alignment charts -- it makes me laugh every time!

@iamdesibell has my entire heart and soul with all her fanart

@saradika keeps us fed with gorgeous moodboards and dividers

Fandom lives and dies by its community so please reblog, tag, or comment if you like a piece of fanart, fanfic, or anything else someone has created that vibes with you! If you'd like to rec something or someone, please let me know -- as you can see, i love holding up other writers and creators and i always wanna hear about your fave!

My ask box is always open for requests, questions, comments, or if you wanna just bitch about how your stupid old car failed you again, I wanna hear about that too 🤍thank you all for accepting me and my silly little stories!

#taylor talks #fic recs #100 followers event #THANK YOU ALL I LOVE YOU!

[swords-of-a-soilder]

The Healing Process

Chapter 4

Dreedful revilation

"A coffin?!" Philza confirmed; he was seated at Cellbit's dining table reviving information of the night before. After Phil's midnight episode Cellbit would drag him, well mostly the coffin, to his home so he could properly rest.

"That you built yourself yes," Cellbit explained, "Phil I must say with the recent events this seems more like possession."

The thought the cursed king had taken his antonym was absolutely terrifying. There was no chance of fighting back, the entity was on a higher level than he was, than anyone was, he didn't want to fight a losing battle with his own body.

"Phil," Cellbit threw him out his thoughts, "the vision you had." Phil groan in annoyance as he tilt his gaze. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but this is clearly important.

"I don't even know where to start." Phil began with a sigh, "I know this is connected to my dreams, it's so much of a longer story than you think."

"I have time." Cellbit reasured, he watch Phil sit in silence a little longer starching at the table in an clear attempt to smooth his nerves. He reached out and brought Phil's hand to a stand still, successfully gaining his attention.

"Phil, Bolas to Bolas let me help you." Cellbit requested.

Philza exhaled deeply then gently pulled his hand from Cellbit's grip, "Ok." He began, "I think it started with the dreams, for as long I could remember I've been having dreams of another world.

"what kind of world?"

"That's the thing it's hard to explain.. I guess a domain would be the right term? It's like this space in-between homes of like..Gods."

"Right.." Cellbit respond in mock confidence, admitly unnerved at the mention of Gods.

"these a few of them, but the antagonist is The Ender King, he steal biomes and part of others domain, it became a problem and so they flood his domain."

"I'm assuming that killed him, being an Ender and all?" Cellbit inquired

"yeah, actually it's weird.. I'm wasn't there when this is happened I'm discovered The story after by finding things buried in the ground, scrolls but.."

"But..?"

"it's like I can still feel them there..all of them.."

Cellbit bit his tongue at that information, all would imply the Ender King as well, but a being that has the ability to steal bomies surly must be powerful, would drowning him even work again?

"Phil if you don't mind, I'd like to observe you sleep, it might help us figure out how to stop this," Cellbit made a quotation gesture with his fingers, "Ender King."

"Wait you mean like sleep here?"

"Yes, I'll make you a proper room with a comfortable bed."Cellbit explained, "you deserve it, UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE!"

"Oh stop complaining you big wussy." AbueloRoeier excalimed as he entered the room.

"Why are you even here?" Cellbit pushed, "didn't I dropped you in the old folks home?"

"Ha! Nice try bitch you can't get rid of me!" He responded Before slowly walking to the other room.

"Anyways..it would do good to observe your sleep pattern from start to finish." Cellbit explained further

"I see, you're not gonna let me sleep in a coffin again right?" Phil teased

"Well, I will have back up.." Phil tilled his head in confusion at Cellbit's respond.

Phil lied in his temporary king size bed as he stared up at the celling; the room was mostly dark aside from a dull red light for a nightlight that supprisly was making him more tired.

He glanced over at the camera in the corner of the room, there he knew Cellbit was watching him from. He consider asking him to play some form of music or rain sounds, anything to help him forget that despite the comfortable nature of the bed he was sleeping in a reinforcered box.

Instead however Philza turned on his side, determine to fall asleep despite the knowledge of being watched. On the other side Forever placed a cup of coffee next to Cellbit then sat nearby with his own as they watched the camera.

"how's he doing?" Forever asked

"He still hasn't fallen asleep yet." Cell informed as he pulled his cup closer.

"bond to happen when your being watch I supposed, the six sense that tells you when you're being watched."

"Hm, we have all night either way." He took a sip of his coffee.

As the night dragged on Cellbit consumption of coffee increased. He rub the exhaustion from his eyes as he watch Phil stir in his sleep, the most activity he'd seen in the past two hours .

He then looked over at Forever whom was passed out in his chair, leant back with his feet on the desk and his head pointed to the calling. His chair was also standing on the two back leg, he look like he would fall at any moment.

He quickly turn his attention back to phil, noting the sudden knocking on the wall below the camera. He raised his eyebrows as Phil stared up at him, like he was look directly into his soul.

Cellbit dragged his clipboard close by then transferred the information down however his process would be interrupted by yelling, he looked up at the screen again.

Philza was now pacing the room and yelling his voice at lest five Octanes deeper. Cellbit focussed his attention on his subject admittedly concerned for his behavior, soon Phil turned to pulling at the reinforced door.

Cellbit stood up halfway in preparation to run downstairs, there was no way he'd break though the door! While Cell was hopefully unfortunately it wasn't quite enough to hope as Phil or whoever was possessing him broke apart the door then made his exit.

Cellbit lifted Forever's legs out the way, waking Forever in the process, he Yelp in surprise as the chair tilted over then sat back up garling at Cellbit, "what was that about?!"

"He's escaped!" Cellbit announced before exiting the room, Forever quickly followed him. They would chase Philza on foot, bealry keeping up with his speed

Suddenly Philza took of, supprisly the wings he calmed to be broken carried him into the air; they stopped in awe, painful awear they wouldn't be able to catch him.

Thankfully for them his wings suddenly gave out thus he came crashing to the ground. The duo ran quickly to Phil's unmoving body, Forever then gently attempt to pick him up. "help me out please?" He requested

Cellbit apologizes then help Forever throw Phil over his shoulders, much to his dismay and he suddenly found the engery to Punch Forever's back repeatedly.

Regardless they carry on, practically dragging Phil kicking and screaming, back to the castle and into the original room, Cellbit observed the surrounding area for the door but found nothing more than ramble.

"He broke the door, it'll take a while for me to make a new one!" He explained

Forever glanced around the room, than turned his attention back to Cellbit, "just block it in." He suggested.

Cellbit rumish through his inventory for blocks, "are you sure you'll be able to handle him?" He asked recalling the extreme strength he had before.

Forever agreed before gently drooping Phil on the bed, then made his way to the further cover; He sat on the floor, staring Phil down.

He observed as Phil push himself up partly, the purple glow in his eyes, the way his head hung in desperation. But what shoke him soul was the incredible deep voice that left his mouth, the mer presence of which filled him with dreed.

"How dare you beast?" Phil spoke.

Forever inhaled deeply as rubbed his hands together, still keeping his eyes on Philza, "So you wanna talk huh?" He began, "Ok let's talk; what are you, what do you want?"

"I Just.. want to..Rest!" He spoke with a booming voice, "Do you have any idea what it feels like to be aware for four thousand years?" The room slowy filled with water; Forever push himself up with one hand to the wall, a hand that glow a deep navy while he whispered to himself in Portuguese.

"Do you have any idea what it feels like, to burn for you nature?!" Forever swore he could hear Phil's regular voice in the word burn, he'd make a mental note of it. "Was it such a sin, for me to take what's mine until the end of time?"

Despite the room being completely filled with water, forever found he could breath just fine. He therefore approached Phil slowly his left hand still glowing dully in the shade of the water.

"I just want to rest.." Phil wouldn't move yet his now purple eyes stared at forever though damp locks, his pupils incredibility dilated.

"But, this is rather counter productive isn't it?" Forever commented once he got closer, he climbed on the bed, then grasp Phil's face with no hastation, Phil's eyes immediately darted up to met his own. "If you're tired then sleep."

Almost immediately after Forever statement Philza's eyes fell shut as he drifted into sleep then onto Forever's lap. The water began to drain into seemingly no where leading forever to the conclusion the spirit had finally leftt.

Forever turned to the camera in the upper corner of the room, curious how much of that Cellbit saw. Denounced to him Cellbit was still staring at the video feed in absolutely appalled at the events that played out.

#qsmp #q!philza #q!forever #q! Cellbit #ender king #child of the sky #the healing process #sugarduo #archivists duo #i only proof read rhis once #don't coment about typos #I'll fix it when im not tired

[kittenintheden]

okay listen I'm so tired lol

I am a fandom old. I've been around the freaking block like eight dozen times. I'm at the point in my life where I enjoy media because it's FUN and ENRICHING for me personally, rather than something I base my identity on. I adore the community that happens in fan spaces (mostly).

here is why I never trust an anon that's clearly just being a dick: I've been in way to many scenarios where people who aren't even invested in the thing just think it's so fucking funny to watch segments of a community fight with each other. it tickles some part of their lizard brain. their mom never taught them not to be an asshole to strangers. idk.

there's a political term that you may or may not be familiar with called astroturfing. it's frequently used in marketing and politics to falsely create the image of vast public support for something that doesn't actually have all that much natural support. for example, people who don't especially have strong feelings about trans issues being encouraged/paid/instructed to respond to any and all trans support a certain way. responding to blogs, sending letters to the editor, posting on message boards, etc. their goal is to create a broad public perception that most people are anti-trans (untrue).

and it works. entire fucking laws and legislation and protests and fearmongering come out of that shit. people make up FAKE PROBLEMS (cis men dressing up like women to go be pervy in public bathrooms???) and spread the word via bad actors and controlling the public discourse. the media conglomerate that gamed Facebook to disproportionately support asshole authoritarian alt-right clowns and got them elected was EXCELLENT at it.

a similar thing can happen in fandom, ESPECIALLY when that fandom is a haven for women, POC, queer folk, and other minorities. you guys might remember GamerGate and SadPuppies? yeah all those fuckers are still active and still purposely being shitty at every given opportunity because they think it's funny to make the "libs" fight amongst themselves.

look up #yourslipisshowing if you're not familiar. it was a movement by Black Twitter (specifically Black WOMAN Twitter) to expose bad actors who would create accounts posing as Black woman activists, learn the surface-level terminology, and just purposely cause discord in leftist spaces under the ever-familiar activist method of "being morally pure is a thing that can exist."

anyway: any time I get an ask or comment without a name attached that is very obviously intended to poke me in a sore spot, I delete that shit and assume it's some fucker trying to start fan drama for kicks. even if I'm wrong, I still don't need to feed into that shit. this is my fun, happy space. I'm an activist and do activist shit and get angry at the world in real life, I don't need it in my little fandom corner of the internet too.

which is not to say that shitty fans and shitty fandom takes don't really exist. they very much do. but I don't give them much air unless there's an actual name attached. and even THEN it can be hit or miss because people can and do create fake accounts if they're especially dedicated to being a shithead.

so: if you're minding your business and some goober comes into your ask box with shit that's clearly intended to push a button, give it like 24 hours to cool down and decide if it's actually worth it to respond. for me, most of the time I determine that it's not.

don't get me wrong. calling out bad behavior in fandom IS IMPORTANT and SHOULD BE DONE. I just also think it's important to try and find the joy and camaraderie in these spaces as much as possible and that people who try to disrupt that for jollies suck real bad and give a disproportionate perception of "what X fans are like."

in summary, my philosophy is be the best person you can be, be as kind as is warranted, focus on the parts of your fandom that make you happiest, and carry a big stick for when the jerks won't take a hint.

also like. shitting on other characters to prop up your fave is such a freaking middle school move. are you in middle school? if so, I'm sorry. if not, I'm still sorry, but for a different reason.

#bg3 discussion #bg3 discourse #fandom bs #fandom discourse #kitten rambles #more fun less raaah