#i gotta be more aware of what I say if any fuckin text post can show up in a tag/search result...

[nyctoheart]

I'm torn with khux/khdr/kh3's developments with Ventus and Vanitas because part of me always loved that they are 2 halves of the same coin, and how connected they were. But I also think the idea of Ventus and Vanitas being ancient beings of light or darkness is also sooo coooool

#kh spoilers #kingdom hearts spoilers #i gotta be more aware of what I say if any fuckin text post can show up in a tag/search result... #the ONLY way I'll be 10000% happy is if both Ven and Vanitas are ORIGINAL pieces of the shattered X blade from MoM's childhood #explaining why they made the X Blade on their own (not 7vs13 like kh3) during BbS #I ALSO need Nomura to explain why Darkness was in Vens heart in ReMind if Vanitas had been torn out like 10 years prior #he bend over backwards to explain how Terra could be the Guardian-- he better do it again for this LOL #Idk KHUX just felt SOOO thought out #but KHDR getting an update a month later with CHANGED DIALOGUE #idk.... it feels like Nomura's slipping for me... I hope I'm wrong

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

Dad's Best Friend ft. Kishibe

dbf!Kishibe who's been your father's bff for over 25 years and loves you more than anything in the world: Coddles and shows you a gross amount of affection, like you're not a whole grown ass woman. Let's you plop in his lap evertime he comes over for a drink, ignoring your father's taunts bout your neediness. Dark eyes glued the tv, absentmindely rubbing circles on your back as you nuzzle into his neck. Ignorant to the sheer will it takes you not grind onto his soft cock. "Okay there, sweets? You keep squirming.. Won me ta hold you closer?" You nod, warmth spreading through your body when Kishibe tightens his embrace.

dbf!Kishibe isn't big on conversation but thinks it's adorable how you ramble on about any and everything to him: Just random shit. From your favorite celeb gossip to simple girl talk, you keep his attention for hours. Only his girl can get him caught up on the most recent trash reality tv shows that he never intends to watch. Unless you ask him to of course. Kishibe lends a honest ear, asks questions, and provides commentary when needed. "Baby, I can't be the only person you got to talk to right now. Its 2am. Know I have work early in the mornin." He groans from his end of the phone. "Yeah, but I haven't seen you inna few days. I miss youuu. Wanna hear your voice." Kishibe sighs. He knows that's only a half truth. Also knows he won't be gettin off the phone anytime soon. "That right? Think you just wanna tell me what happened on the next episode of.. What was it?" He teases. "It's called Baddies! See? You never listen!" Kishibe rolls his eyes. "Uh huh. That must be why you on my line right now. tsk. Go on and tell me what happened on ya lil show before I go to sleep on yo ass." "Okay, okay! Geez.."

dbf!Kishibe has always treated you like his princess, but you're older now, and very aware of his Queen treatment: All begins when he notices you real down for a few days. Doesnt wanna pry so he starts wakin you up to compliments and affirmations through text. Even as a man of few words, he thinks it's important you know how smart, kind and pretty you are. You're worth simply can't be measured to Kishibe, and he needs you to understand that. Doesn't care if your dad's around or who hears how special he thinks you are. "Fuckin aced my exam!" You exclaim one late afternoon, slidin through the kitchen after gettin back from uni. Kishibe and your father wait for you, posted at the breakfast bar. Kishibe arms squeeze tight inna hug while your dad opts for high five and small tickle to your side. "So fantastic, sweetheart! Knew you could do it. Always been too smart for your own good." Kishibe chuckles at your pout. "Know what? Let's go out. We gotta celebrate our girls milestone." But your dad scoffs. "Milestone? It's just a test, Kish. She takes em all time." "Dad, it's not just a test. I studied hard as hell for this one. It's a large chunk of my grade." Kishibe slings an arm round your shoulders, holdin up your exam papers before chiming in again. "Come on, old man. She passed with flying colors. Our girl could be a doctor or some shit. Never know. I say she deserves some special treatment." "Then you take her. Work drained all this old man's energy. I'm goin to sleep. Great job again, y/n. Proud of you." With a kiss to your forehead, he's off to bed. Kishibe doesn't let you wallow though. Pulls you in close to whisper in your ear. "Three's a crowd anyway, sweet thing. Go put on somethin black and tiny. Let's go do somethin fun tonight."

dbf!Kishibe only pretends to be oblivious to your little crush on him: He doesn't mind his gorgeous girl's longing stares or subtle flirting. Teases the fuck out you by purposefully acting clueless. Wants to see how far you'll go with your little infatuation. And it's a full time job. So Kishibe finds any reason to sleep over whenever he can. "Babygirl?" He calls for you naked and wet through the cracked bathroom door. "Bring me my towel, please. Left it on the bed." You comply, not realizing the treat you're in store for. Jaw dropping seeing his pretty dick for the first time. It's not hard but it's still so thick. A nice medium toned flesh colored shaft, mushroom tip dark pink and flaring wide. Its fuckin perfect. "H-here.. Here you go." "Thanks." Kishibe takes the towel, sexy grin appearin how your gaze never wavers from his cock. He's startin to stiffen- and drip more than water from your lusty stare . "Careful, honey. You're wakin the beast. Can't do that when your dad's around."

dbf!Kishibe loves to spoil you rotten: Takes you shoppin, gets your nails and hair done, puts gas in you car. Whatever you desire is at your finger tips. All you gotta do is flutter your lashes and pout your full lips and Kishibe is bending to your every will: "The fuck you need this for?" His words a nasty growl when you interrupt him workin on your dad's car to shove your phone into his face and show him a skimpy lavender lingerie set. "Thought you said pretty girls deserve pretty things." You whine, stomping your foot when Kishibe scoffs and bends under the hood to resume his task. "I'm not buyin that shit for you to show some lil fuck boy in your class, y/n." How dare he! You were absolutely repulsed by your first taste of fuck boy and only have eyes for him. "Not for anyone, Kishi. Just thought it would look good on me. Don't you?" He glances up, eyes raking over every inch of you. Fuck yeah, he does. Plus, Kishibe just can't take the soft vulnerable face you put on once he meets your gaze. Or the thought of that flimsy scrap of lace wrapped round your frame. "Fine, y/n." He takes his wallet out and tosses it to you. "You better get one in my favorite color- nah. Scratch that. Get one of each. And do same day shipping. I want a picture of it on you by tonight."

dbf!Kishibe does random pop ups when your left home alone for extended amounts of time: Knows your father works hard and promises to take good care of their little girl when he's away. Though this time, you don't expect him anytime soon since Kishibe texts he'll be comin by late tonight. When he finally does arrive, his idea of surprising you with your favorite dish doesn't quite go as planned. He let's himself in with the spare key and tip toes to your room but your not there. After a quick search, he finds you in the guest room and is stunned into silence. You're tangled in the sheets on your hands and knees, hardly covered in that damn pastel purple scrap of lace, slowly fuckin your puffy chocolate puss with a pink dildo. Clearly you hadn't washed the covers from Kishibe's overnight stay the way you inhale them, arch deepening and puttin your most delicate areas on display to his greedy gaze. The little show you put on has his girth raging stiff for you in record time. "Uhn! Oh, Kishibeee! Uhh, uhh, uhh! Stuff me till I can't take it. Need your fat cock to ruin me, Kishi!" His ears burn hot listening to you as he stares intently between your beautiful brown thighs, mouth watering for a taste. Swollen cock won't stop twitchin, precum already drippin in anticipation. "Yeees! Feed this pussy that dick, give it to me! So fuckin wet for you, know it'll slide right in." Your brows pinch, nose scrunching as you fuck yourself a bit quicker. Little puss drooling from the stretch, squelching loud from the swift pumps. "Wish you were here.. Ahh! Don't wanna -mmm- wait anymore. Want you to h-hold me down.. Fuck me like onahole, Daddy!" The fuck?! Kishibe groans quietly at your slutty pleas. Fuck, you're askin for it. His dick throbs widly from how feral you're behaving, even though the dildo's barely half way in. "Ohfuh- Kishibe!Fuckfuckfuck! 'S so big, splitting me in half! Fill me up just like that.. Haah, so close! Gonna cum so much, Kishi!" Kishibe's mouth drops open, grip on your dinner involuntarily loosening a bit as his groin pulses intensely. He's stuck frozen in place, totally entranced, ready to burst at the seams from the erotic visual. "Yeees.. Oh God, gonna wet up that big dick.. F-fuck me, Kishi! Fuck this pussy till I cum, make it yours Daddy! Ohmy- cummiiing! So good! Haahshit! Feels so fuckin goood!" Witnessing you gush all over your toy and sheets is his demise. Kishibe's gotta bite his bottom lip to muffle his grunts as he nuts. Pent up cock spurting cum like a fire hose as he watches you shiver, swearin and callin out to him while you fuck yourself into overstimulation.

dbf!Kishibe can't stop his dick from chubbin when your in his presence anymore, so he spends less time with you: It's always been a challenge to look and not touch but how can he do that when he hears your beautiful filthy fuckin sobs of his name ringin in his ears 24/7? The image of you cummin ingrained in his mind so fiercely, he's officially rubbed his dick raw. Thinks his hiatus will save you before he does somethin he can't take back. But then you show up on Kishibe's doorstep, hair inna messy bun, dressed in one of his old hoodies and the tiniest pair of jean shorts he's ever seen. Pretty y/e/c eyes rimmed red and teary as you yell at him for ghosting you. "..so what, replace me that fast? Can't answer my calls or texts? At least coulda responded to my fuckin email- I begged you to tell me what I did wrong! You're a fuckin piece of shit, Kishibe!" You tire yourself shoutin and bangin on his chiseled chest. End up right back in his lap, on his couch this time as he tries to console you. "I know sweetheart, I'ma fuckin jerk. Asshole like me don't deserve a perfect girl like you. Didn't do anything to me. How could you? Ain't nothin a sweet thing like you could do to push me away, you know that. Its.. It's all my fault." "Then why, Kish? Why'd you leave me? Told me.. Told me I'm you're favorite girl, that you'd always be here for me. So why can't you just tell me what's goin on? I don't get it.. Or at least my dad. He's your best friend." Kishibe sighs, shakin his head. "Yeah, I know that. But how in the hell do I tell my best bud that I watched our girl fuck her own brains out while screamin for me to use her like a onahole? Hmm? And that I actually almost did. Was two seconds from pushin your head into the sheets so I could breed that inexperienced lil pussy all night long." You tense on his muscled thigh for the briefest of moments. "Had to stay away, y/n. I went too far.." The fuck he did. Didn't go far enough. And how could you not realize he saw the lewd display? Even with pretendin to arrive a good while after, he couldn't take his gaze from you the entire evening. Finally.. At last it feels like your advances are gettin you somewhere. "And?" You stand up, lookin down on his fine ass. "And? Wha- ... Fuck you mean and?" Kishibe stares up at you incredulously, tongue swipin over his bottom lip when his eyes do a swift dart to your smooth mocha thighs.

"Did you really think we'd just endlessly flirt forever? Geez Kishi.. Don't make me have to spell it out for you. Supposed to be this big strong devil hunter." You pull off your hoodie, revealing your bare chest. Undoin your bun, messy 30 inch waves tumble down your shoulders and back. "Y/n, baby, wait. Let's talk bout this." "Looks like you wanna do more than talk, Kish." Fuck, your right. Kishibe's so fuckin hard. Even though that should be impossible after how much he's nutted to you these past 2 weeks. But your tits are so damn pretty and he really wants to play with the cute cherry piercings dangling from your stiff dark peaks. Still, Kishibe attempts one last play at 'the good guy' when you go to push down your shorts. "Don't." It's a weak protest. "Please, babygirl. Don't do this.. I'm only a man." Your bottoms hit the floor as you giggle, pussy clenchin at his dick visibly beatin against his slacks. "And I'm a woman, Kishibe. Your woman." He groans a low "Fuck yes." fists balling when you crowd him, settin your painted toes on the edge of the couch; the angle spreadin your glistening cocoa cunt for him. "You know.. Lately, you don't listen to me very well, Kishi. And we've both know I've always been very concise about my wants and needs." Two fingers creep to move in and out of your hot lil snatch, free hand fisting at his short blonde tips as you effortlessly fall into a slow deep rythym. "So I need- mmm.. Need you to listen like you used to.. You can do that for me, yeah?" Kishibe's dying to replace his digits with yours. Swallows hard watchin you scissor your fingers before strokin your coochie a bit quicker. The generous amount of slick provides a nice wet plap plap to fill the air. "But you hear me now, right Daddy?" Fuck it! He can't fight against it anymore. Lips dam near teleportin round your poundin clit, eyes closing in bliss as he nods and nurses your sensitive nub. "Kishibe!" His big hands grab your ass and hold you against his incessant mouth, dick ready to buss from your shrieks and the taste of your creamy cookie. Yeah, Kishibe hears you all alright.

#black reader #black fanfiction #black writer #all welcome #all readers #all women are beautiful #smut #dirty talk #daddy k!nk #watch me masturbate #female ejaculation #voyerurism #pussy eater #wet and needy #dads best friend #csm smut #csm kishibe #csm kishibe x black reader #csm kishibe x black y/n #csm kishibe x woc #csm kishibe x poc #kishibe x reader #kishibe x y/n #kishibe x you #kishibe x black reader #kishibe x black y/n #csm kishibe x reader #csm kishibe x you #csm kishibe x y/n

[hackedmotionsensors]

GOD SORRY LMFAO

I’M SORRY I’M RUNNING BEHIND AGAIN ON OPENING COMMS.

They’ll be open...probably tomorrow morning. I’m trying to use Ko-fi’s commission form so everything is nice and neat but I’ve not done this before so its kinda confusing lol 

Actually honestly its pretty clean and has lots of little add ons and stuff that make organizing things really nice but I’m not sure how things will look on your end or how they’ll look on my end when a comm comes in so if I goof something up on the first part I’m so so sorry lol

Also I know I was REALLY lowballing sketch coms before but I can’t afford, nor do I have the energy, to do 15$ commissions for sketches. So the base price for a black and white bust sketch will be 30$. Thats still really low all things considered but I want to make things ...cheap and fast and also...worth my time and energy. This is a reminder that that price is EXTREMELY low and that artists who charge a more sensible price than that are not over charging. I’m lowballing bc I’m fuckin broke lol

If that price is too high even little donations help me out in the long run so if you want you can leave a donation for as little as 3$? 6$?Just remember to leave a comment that its a donation so I know its not a request

I also have a few new rules so please be mindful of that. ↴

I’d say the most important rule is do not message me on any platform BUT ko-fi and if you commission me please check your ko-fi messages. Most likely I won’t have anything to say unless you’re sending me references. I have my DMs off on all platforms and I don’t really want to use my email unless I’m sending something to you. Ko-fi will be the only way to contact me and for me to contact you.

The other important one will be no real people. I’m sorry I feel uncomfortable drawing a real person being it you, your auntie, or an actor you like. (If its like...a live action character that’s different bc I’m just gonna make them anime anyway lol)

The other OTHER new rule will be I have to limit what I can draw from marvel. IT’LL BE IN THE POST but basically I’m still under NDA. You’re probably okay to ask for stevetony....bc they’re dead :)  (Also my crew was well aware of my ST shipping lol)   But you can dm me first to ask what is probably okay. I know i get a lot of BuckyTony which isn’t my thing but I know you guys are thirsty. But since Bucky is still in the current mcu I don’t know...if I’m allowed. Things like Billy, Tommy, Teddy....probably fine if its comic book based. Its WEIRD lol There’s a lot of grey and I just wanna be able to get hired again yknow?? lmfao Absolutely NO spider-man at all. AT ALL. I’m not risking it. 

Unless you were one of my crew members then (how’d you find this account???) ....i’ll just dm you privately lol

So yea if you’re interested in MCU, since I know a lot of people originally followed me for that....you gotta let me know first before sending your comm request in...I THINK?? I don’t exactly know who gets what first on the commission thing on ko-fi. 

and then the usual rules like please no gore, please no NSFW (spicy is fine but not explicit), Maximum 2 characters, try to keep them simple bc they’re sketches not fully rendered pieces, Furries are okay but not recommended (I’d rather send you to a furry artist with comms open since I’m primarily an anime artist ...more or less lol) , PLEASE be mindful of things that might make ME uncomfortable. I’m very VERY open minded and most things DON’T bother me but remember I’m not really an open NSFW artist or kink artist or anything like that. I know I can come off as really wild or loose minded (????) in terms of shipping but there’s been a few times I’ve felt really uncomfortable with comms and I just did them anyway bc I needed the money. You can always ask me ahead of time if you’re really unsure. When it comes to shipping what you might think is comfortable might make me VERY uncomfortable. 

lol THIS WILL ALL BE IN THE POST SORRY TO DUMP HERE  lol but i have more text space here

So yeah I need to make a graphic and then it should be up tomorrow.

#ko-fi commissions

[7spaceace7]

Secrets (A Donatello x Reader)

This is incredibly self-indulgent and was really just a fic for me to obsess over tesla coils, but my girlfriend convinced me to post it- so here it is! It got kind of long too, but I hope you enjoy! 

Word Count: 3236

Reader is given feminine terms in this one

Mild cursing (thank you Raph)

Absolute fluff attack, the sweetness will rot your teeth

Singing was your greatest passion. From a young age, you had been roped into music, the emotions it could represent with just a few notes and some relatable lyrics. It was happiness, it was sadness, it was anger and excitement, and it was everything you couldn’t express well enough with just words. Being a writer, sometimes that would get frustrating, but music helped you overcome the most challenging spots in a new piece or story. This is why you would constantly have earbuds in as you sang along to every song you’d memorized on your Spotify shuffle. 

And Donnie noticed this. Every time you would enter the turtles’ lair, he would see you unplug and pack-up your headphones. Hell, he was even able to detect your singing from the sounds of the sewer tunnels echoing with every step you took closer. He’d hear you talk about the music or soundtracks of your favorite games and movies, analyzing what every slight twinge or reprise would allude to. And he loved every part of it. He loved getting to see those moments where music was all you could focus on. Your heart rate rose exponentially in anticipation and excitement. Your eyes would screw shut while you broke into a grin. Your hands would mimic motions to the beat as you played on invisible drums, or strummed a nonexistent guitar. 

It was adorable to him, to say the least. But he never told you so. He never said a word, in case this might scare you off for coming across as “creepy” or weird. He knew most people probably didn’t pay this close attention to little things like that, but then again, he also knew that most people weren’t madly in love with you. 

Which Donatello was. 

He couldn’t tell you, because once he started rambling about you, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. And if he didn’t stop, then he’d run the 89.07% chance risk of telling you how he’d been in love with you since the day they met you. That was way too high for him to be comfortable. No, he couldn’t tell you, no matter how badly he wanted you to know.

“Okay, so what if you just show ‘er you’re interested instead?” Raph asked, half paying attention to his brother’s predicament, half pounding the punching bag before him into the ground. Leo was in the dojo meditating, and Mikey was playing video games in the living room, which left the two middle brothers to their own devices. For Donnie, this was literally. His three-fingered hands fiddled with his latest electrical circuit. It was bound for sending the right amount of voltage into his inventions without needing four power strips and a generator all on their own. Unfortunately, he was too distracted to actually delve into its components, and settled for breaking and piecing it back together again.

“Show her? How would I do that?” Donnie’s voice trembled at the thought.

“I dunno, you’re the genius here,” Raph huffed, “There’s gotta be somethin’ in this place that you think she’d find cool. She loves music, right?”

“Yeah, like a lot, she even-”

“Rhetorical question, Don, heard the rant plenty,” His brother cut him off. Pausing his violent onslaught of the dummy, he turned to face him. “You’re nervous ‘cause you ain’t ever done somethin’ for a pretty girl before, I get it. So do somethin’ you know you’re good at. That’ll take the nerves off, your plan works, and then I won’ have to listen to you babbling about whatever new fuckin’ thing she did today. Win win.”

The younger turtle paused. “That was...actually pretty sound advice, thank you, Raph.”

“Anytime,” Raph nodded, a smug smile tugging at his lips from being able to help. Problem was, now he was invested. He’d listened to his brother’s rants and rambles and failed plans of possibly confessing for weeks now, what was gonna happen once he finally did it? Raph plopped onto one of Donnie’s bean bag chairs. He didn’t bother to pick up the training dummy. “So what ya gonna do, smart guy?”

Donnie blinked a few times, glasses twitching on his nose as he pushed them up. He didn’t know it, but you coined this his “brainstorming face”. He fiddled with the circuits once again.

“Uh...I’m not sure,” His tongue went dry. A million ideas fly through his brain each minute, and this decides to be the time that he can’t think of a single one good enough. Figures. “I could build her something? Maybe a new stereo, or upgrade the one she has.”

Raph made a noise of disapproval. “You can do better, any old fix-it guy could do that.”

“Fair. Maybe I could- ow!”

A short buzz of the air cut him off as his fiddling paid off. To the world’s great irony, a light bulb several inches away lit up.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good, I…” Donnie trailed off. The purple-clad turtle’s eyes widened as he registered what happened. “I’m better than good, I just had an epiphany!”

“Epipha-what?”

“An epiphany, sudden realization, an idea!” Donnie flicked his goggles back down, enhancing his vision with the magnifier on it. Wires were tugged in and out, and a transmitter was displaced. With a snort of triumph, he raised it to the air for his brother to see. “This is the answer!” 

“A tiny board thing. Just what she’s always wanted,” Raph rolled his eyes, but Donnie was prepared for this.

“Not just a tiny board, a tiny board with this!-” With great haste, Donnie was next to Raph, holding the board out properly. “My side-side project, this little thing, look at the coil here, this is it! This is a tesla coil, capable of transmitting thousands and thousands of volts of energy surging through the air, powering anything within its radius, which is perfect and exactly why I needed to reconfigure it to power my lab and this one new machine I’m working on, but that’s not why this is the perfect idea!”

“Wow, please continue, professor, I’m dyin’ to know.”

“Glad you asked! Watch this!” One aux cord, T-Phone connection, and light-dimming later, the lab went dark in anticipation. And suddenly, with the press of a play button on Donnie’s shuffle, music started to fill the air. But it wasn’t coming from his phone. It was coming from the coils, surging and creating not only electric energy that was visible to the human eye as it sparked, but music. Sound. The beats and notes of the song playing sprouted out in the form of electricity.

Raph’s green eyes became transfixed on the sparks flying out. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right!” Came the squeals of utter nerding out, “This is only a tabletop version of an SGTC circuit, my own type of it anyway based on Tesla’s original designs, but if I reworked it, made it bigger, made it lifelike and maybe four or five of them, I could create the most advanced musical performance this city has ever seen!”

“I’m gonna pretend I know everything you just said because clearly this is your nerd thing,” Raph started, utterly confused. Even still, a reassuring smile framed his features. “But this looks pretty damn cool. This right here? Exactly what ‘m sayin’, Don.  This is you.”

“Do you think she’ll like it...?” Donnie asked in a hopeful voice. He wasn’t just asking about the invention. 

“Course she will.”

~x~

A couple weeks had passed since that fateful conversation with Raph. He’d been in and out of the lab since then, but between patrols and the mandatory bathroom breaks, there was hardly a time he wasn’t working on his great new project. You weren’t even allowed to go into the lab, per his request, for all his time there.

However, he always made sure to make at least one movie whenever you’d come hang out at the lair from work.

Finally, one Friday night, the set up was complete. Pride swelled in Donnie’s chest as he looked at his creation: six symmetrically placed tesla coils sprung up from the ground and walls all around his lab space. The coilings wrapped around metal frames, spiraling into a beautiful arrangement of engineering, if he did say so himself. Mikey said it looked like the lasers out of a DC comic, which was also not a bad thing to be. He just hoped that you would like it. All of it was for you, of course, but over the weeks that he’d been preparing it, he found more beauty in the music of tesla coils than he ever had appreciated before. 

Donnie thought he might thank you for that, if he could get his nerves around it.

God, he was so nervous. Anxiety rushed through his body like the electric pulses he was perfecting. They were already done, but it was all he could do to distract himself while waiting for you to arrive. Maybe the frequencies weren’t in the right key. What if they sounded better this way? Or maybe the firing power wasn’t enough? Trajectory looked alright, maybe it just-

“Donnie?”

“Gh! Y/N, hey!” Stammered the surprised terrapin after knocking his head against the top of a coil. His goggles were on the setting of night-vision, but that didn’t account for night-spatial-awareness, it seemed.

“I got your text to come,” You tried to smile at him, but the dark laboratory proved to make that difficult. “How come it’s so dark in here?”

“Uh, well, that’s p-part of the surprise! Eheh. Gimme just a second-”

You waited patiently outside of his lab, vision still applicable, but grew concerned the more strange noises and clangs you heard coming from inside. This was definitely a whole new level of “Donnie Surprises” just by how nervous he seemed about it.

You yelped when his hand grabbed your arm and dragged you back inside the darkness.

“Okay, uh,” He started, before clapping his hands together for the lights to switch back on, “This is what I wanted to show you.”

Your gaze spun all around the lab. After adjusting to the light, you could clearly see giant mechanism after mechanism placed strategically around in a dome-like setup. Coils that protruded like round-edged spikes circled you both, and in the center was a metal cage. 

“Oh my god…” You almost whispered. A large grin broke out onto your face as you stared in quiet marvel at the scene. His plan was working, and Donnie lit up with an outstretched arm in presentation.

“These bad boys are called tesla coils-”

“Tesla coils!” You squealed in imperfect unison to what you assumed was the start of an explanation. “You made tesla coils, Donnie, holy shit!”

“You’ve heard of them?!” Donnie exclaimed, eyes widening behind his glasses.

“YES!” Your hands began to wave around excitedly, “Oh my god I used to be OBSESSED with these things! I heard about when I was a kid from that old movie, oh what was it, it was like the apprentice’s-”

“Sorcerer’s Apprentice!”

“THAT! Yes!” 

“I haven’t seen that movie in years!”

“Me neither! All I remember is that Hiccup’s voice actor totally nerded out and programmed his giant tesla coils to play music for the girl he wanted to impress, and it was the coolest thing because these giant machines were playing music, music out of nothing but sparks of electricity at different frequencies, which to be honest probably would have caused more of an energy problem than the movie suggested because goddamn do they take up a lot of power, but I was like six and didn’t care!” You laughed  in an energetic burst of word association, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Donnie could have kissed you then and there for that alone. 

A grin crept onto his lips as he watched you ramble on about the movie, leaving all anxious thoughts to fall from his mind. For once, someone actually understood one of his passions. Better than that, she was explaining the process to him of all people! Sure, she was intuitive enough to know he didn’t need it, he literally had just built them after all. This was just out of pure excitement. Someone in his life was talking about science and technology like they were the most fascinating things on the planet, just as the purple-masked turtle believed it was. Well, second only to the ecstatic girl in front of him. 

“-And so, I randomly remembered it again not that long ago, so I looked it up and found so many videos on YouTube about it. I kid you not, I listened to tesla coils and tesla coils alone for a solid week.” 

You breathed heavily, a little winded after such an intense info-dump. God, he always loved when you got excited about something. 

“This is kind of surreal,” Donnie chuckled a bit, pushing up his glasses when they tumbled down his nose, “I had no idea you’d get what these were, much less have known so much about them.” Donnie’s eyes widened at his own panicked-fueled blabbering. “N-Not that I think you’re stupid! I just-- I mean it’s not-- common? It’s more of-”

“A niche interest, yeah. No worries,” You finished for him, signaling his stuttered words hadn’t fallen on offended ears. Donnie quietly sighed in relief. Time ticked by in seconds, but even that was much too fast for this martial artist to grasp. If he could have constructed a device to pause the fabrics of time, he would have long ago, simply to relish the moments with you that meant everything to him. It wasn’t your fault your eyes captivated him more than any element he’s worked with.

“So,” You began eagerly, startling him out of his thoughts, “Are we gonna listen to some zappy poles go brrr or what?”

Donnie snorted at your juvenile word choice. “Yeah, totally. Now, ah,” He walked over toward the large cage in the center, stepped inside, then poked his head out with a dorky grin. A large, green hand stood outstretched towards you. “I think you’d better step inside my cage.”

“If you keep quoting the damn movie like this, I am going to explode from excitement, and it will be your fault!” It was a wonder how you hadn’t caught onto his plan yet, honestly. You made no sense of hesitation before grabbing his offered hand (even though your hands were small enough that they hardly matched his palm’s size), and clambered into the cage in front of him. This was a great excuse for you to be close to him without it being weird. And now, with your back brushing up against his plastron, the butterflies in his chest told him it was totally a good call.

Donatello would take this secret to his grave, however.

“Put your hands on the rail here, yep just like that,” Donnie nodded after your hands found the safeguard rail. A couple buttons tapped into a laptop later, he settled his own hands next to yours. “Let the magic begin.”

Magic would have been the understatement of the year. A coil in front of you quickly shot out its first spark. Familiar music breached the sound barrier to your ears. The one behind you both caught it instantly. Spark after spark sent back and forth between the coils, soaring through the lab like the most incredible game of electric catch.

“Whoa!” You laughed when the sparks would bounce off the cage itself, pressing closer to the turtle behind you (much to his surprise every time). Your shining e/c eyes never left the electric bolts shooting out. “This is insane!”

“Heh, glad you like it!” Donnie watched you closely that entire time, more entranced by your excitement and wonderstruck self than anything he’d created. He could power up the tesla coils anytime of day, but this was a special moment he’d never be able to recreate in a controlled environment. This was no experiment, this was real and it was happening right now. 

The only thing left to do was tell you how he felt. 

“Y/N, I have to tell you something,” He began, stepping away to give you a bit of space. His heart rate was increasing by the second. The way you turned to look at him wasn’t helping, either. 

“What is it?” You spoke softly, somehow able to be heard over the music. Donnie could hardly meet your eyes, so he took your hands in his instead.

“I...I don’t know how to say this exactly,” He started, “I’ve been trying to do it for months, going over every possible conjuncture of words, something that would be heartfelt and honest, poetic even? But the truth is, words aren’t my thing, th-they never have been. I’m a science guy, I take things apart and put them back together again, I figure out what makes them work, I see life as a million tiny parts to analyze.”

He paused his quickened speech to take a breath. Your hands squeezed his larger ones as an offer to continue.

“And so, I’m...bad at feelings. I see it all as chemicals and components used by the brain to create action and reaction. But now I’m not so sure if that’s all they are, and really the only thing I am sure about is that it’s because of you that I’m questioning everything I ever thought I knew. Maybe, maybe life is more than atoms and chemicals, and instead it’s about..moments. Moments like this. Moments that...that I..that I really want to keep forever and play over and over again.”

“Donnie…” You spoke. This time he squeezed your hands.

“I know I’m rambling and I should really get to the point, so what I’m trying to say is,” He took another breath, steady this time. His gaze met yours again. “I want to live these moments with you every day. You’re special to me. You’re part of our family, but this is more than that, this feeling is-”

“Love.” You finished for him. Both of your eyes widened as you realized the other felt how you each did.  

Donatello nodded slowly, hesitant to be so certain, but knowing it was true. There were no more words to be exchanged after that, only actions, only movements so soft and gentle that the large terrapin was certain he’d break if they could fit in his hands. Your hands left his and instead reached up to grab the long ends of his mask, and tugged gently for him to reach you. He leaned down without a thought. A three-fingered hand found your waist this time. 

You kissed. Soft, human lips connected to his slightly chapped reptilian ones. The turtle had waited for this moment since he realized the attraction he felt towards you was not just powerful chemical reactions, but true feelings. It wasn’t biology, it was chance and fate and one-in-a-million all at once. As the sparks continued to (literally) fly, Donnie let his eyes close. This was the present. He was here, he was holding a great new adventure in his hands, and there was a brilliant future just around the corner. 

The song may have finished, but this is what would last forever. 

#tmnt #tmnt donatello #donatello x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2014 #tesla coils #tmnt raphael #donnie and raph are good bros #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt 2016 #donatello #raphael #donnie #raph #donnie x reader #fanfics

[imagine-the-fanfics]

Everywhere

Characters: Goro Majima x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Filthy smut. Just... So much smut.

Inspiration: Request by Anon – “Hello! May I request a nsfw majima fic? Where it's the majima everywhere (him doing diff roleplays) but he's following his female s/o around instead”

A/n: Y/s/n refers to your stage name. Hope this works for you!

Life with your boyfriend was never boring. A true enigma of a man, Goro Majima never ceased to surprise you. When one of his best friends was released from prison, he was determined to help his friend get back on his feet – by randomly picking fights with him. You were always there after the fights, of course, tending his wounds. Sometimes, between the moments he spent pestering Kiryu, he would surprise you.

The first time he had caught you off-guard was when you were hailing a taxi, absentmindedly sitting in the backseat, texting your coworker while telling the driver where to go. The scheduling conflict had caused problems, and you were on your way home after an extra-long shift and half of the next. You didn’t even look out the window, trying to figure out if you were working in the morning with the adjustments that were being made – of course you didn’t get a straightforward answer. When you finally had it solved you looked up and out the window, realizing you were nowhere near your home. You started to panic a little.

“This isn’t where—” You looked at the driver in the rear-view mirror, locking your eyes on your boyfriend’s eye. “You scared me, Go-chan,” you sighed. His maniacal laugh made your heart flutter.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Y/n-chan,” he was still chuckling at himself.

“Where are we?” You asked, looking around.

“We’re at the pier,” he replied casually. “Yer outta work, right? Thought we could… Maybe…” He wiggled his eyebrows. You laughed.

Before you knew it, the taxi was parked, and Majima had gotten into the back with you. Sex in the backseat of a car is uncomfortable. There’s not much you can do aside from a couple different positions.

You were leaning back against the taxi door, your legs spread and Majima between them. His skill never ceased to amaze you. You braced yourself against the back headrest and the divider, moaning and whining as he worked you over. His fingers curled and pumping like a jackhammer. He looked up at you, watching as your eyes rolled back and the tightening coil in your core snapped. You moaned his name, the familiar fuzzy weightlessness radiating through you. He continued going, slowing his pace a bit as you rode the waves of your orgasm, unable to take his eye off you. The feeling of your pussy’s rhythmic contractions around his fingers made him close his eye.

You were panting, looking at him as he pulled his fingers out, giving you a final lick before pulling away. You couldn’t help and look at the straining bulge in his pants. All you wanted was him inside you again. You looked out the windows, fogged but you could see the lights of the outside world that paid no mind to either of you or what you were doing here.

Another time, you hadn’t expected going to work to find your boyfriend in drag in the dressing room at the hostess club where you worked. He insisted his name was Goromi, so you rolled with it. Goromi was your newest co-worker, and it surprised you just how good of a hostess she was. The post-shift sex in the dressing room was mind-blowing..You were bracing yourself against the counter where you normally did your makeup, Goromi’s dress had been surprisingly easy for her to lift up and she was pounding you from behind, hands on your hips to pull you back as he thrust forward. Occasionally she would reach up and knead your breasts or would reach around and play with your clit. You left the dressing room sore, hair messed up, reeking of sex, and in a hell of a better mood than when you went in, and you found yourself surprised that no one in the club had heard your moans and shouts of pleasure. Goromi giggled as the two of you left the club together.

On your way to work one day, you were stopped by a police officer. It wasn’t until you actually looked at them that you saw your boyfriend. He’d grinned and made many innuendos about what he was going to do with you, but you reminded him you had work and kissed his cheek. He pouted of course, but let you go about your day. He’d get you another time. Bring you into a secluded alleyway and fuck you against a wall. It felt dirty and the thought alone made him hard.

One time, he jumped out from under a traffic cone, scaring you shitless to the point you screamed, jumped, and then fell to the ground. He was quickly at your side, making sure you weren’t hurt and helping you up. By the time you were on your feet, the two of you were laughing your asses off. Neither of you cared about the funny looks you were getting.

Your favorite time was when you were on a pseudo-date with a client at his favorite bar. When your bartender turned around and was revealed to be your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but grin. Neither of you gave any hint to the client about your relationship; it was all part of being a hostess. He knew what he had signed up for when the two of you started dating, just as you were aware that he was yakuza.

“Alright, Y/s/n-chan, let’s get you back to the club,” your client said with a laughter painted sigh. “I’ve taken enough of your time up.” “If it’s all the same to you, Hiza-kun, I’d like to stay here,” you smiled at him softly. “I’m meeting a friend here later, and it would save me some walking.”

“Alright,” Hizashi pulled out his wallet, handing you enough for a cab home. “If I’m leaving you at a bar, the least I can do is pay for your ride home when you’re ready.” He stared at you for a moment. “I’ll see you next Monday at 3, correct?”

“I think so, but I’d have to check the schedule. I’m also working the day after tomorrow if you’d like to come in. I know I’m free until 4.”

“I might take you up on that, Y/s/n-chan. Be safe tonight, okay?”

“I will. You, too, Hiza-kun.”

You waved at him as he left and focused your attention to the bartender.

“You’re a jack of all trades, aren’t Go-chan?” You teased, sipping your whiskey.

“Eh? So what if I am?” Majima pouted, feigning offense that you knew better than to take seriously. “Eh, whatever. It’s almost closin’ time, I’ll likely be home late.”

“Oh? Family stuff?” You asked, raising your glass to your lips. When nothing but air hit your lips, you realized you were out. You set the glass down with a sigh, your boyfriend already refilling it. His silence made you sigh. “Can’t talk about it here?” You raised the glass to your lips to drink.

“I’d rather fuck ya right here,” Majima said plainly, his signature manic laughter filling the air of the bar as you sprayed your whiskey all over the counter, putting a hand over your mouth after. He kept laughing as you looked at the mess you made and started laughing, too. He started cleaning it up. “Always so messy,” he teased.

“Go-chan, this is a public space,” you reminded quietly.

“Yeah? No one else’s here,” he observed, looking around the room. “I can close early, and we can…” His eyebrow wiggle said it all. “‘Sides, it’s kinda hot, dontcha think? Fuckin’ in public—”

“I don’t think about it,” you admitted. He just tsked at you and came out from behind the bar, walking over and locking the door as you watched. “Are you really—”

“Yeah, really. Ya think I was jokin’?” Majima looked at you. “If you don’t wanna we ain’t gotta.”

“No, I…” You cleared your throat, but that was enough for Majima. You turned to face him as he walked over, placing one hand on the bar, his other hand adjusted his tie. All you could do was stare at him, trying not to melt.

“Say it,” Majima’s voice was low and rough. The bartender act was gone, Daddy was here to play.

“I want to,” you confirmed, and he pressed his lips to your immediately.

The hand that wasn’t on the bar explored your body: grabbing your ass, kneading your breasts, getting tangled in your hair. His touch was electrifying, sending miniature shockwaves through out your body. It was almost shameful how fast you felt your wetness, but you didn’t care. Majima knew how to work you, and it was divine every time the two of your bodies became one.

“Whatta do with ya,” he muttered, his lips grazing yours before he went back to kissing you. He maneuvered his kisses to your neck, and you leaned your head to the side so he had easier access. He pressed his hips to yours. “This is hot,” he admitted. “We should do this more often, dontcha think?”

You were trembling under his touch. Doing this in public was definitely adding to the fun, but it was also giving you anxiety. What if someone saw? You knew the windows were tinted – you could see out, but no one could see in. You looked over, watching people walk by.

“Just think, I could bend ya over this counter and fuck ya ‘til ya pass out, and nunna them would know the difference. Something sexy about that, dontcha think?” You nodded. “Use yer words, Babygirl.”

“Yes,” you answered, breathless.

“Yer just a mess, aintcha?” You could feel his lips curl into a grin against your skin. “I wonder…” His hand went from your ass to your thigh, lifting up your skirt and sliding a hand over your panties. Another maniacal laugh. “Yer soaked.” You blushed. “Awww, don’ be embarrassed, Babygirl. I know how weak ya are for me.” A pause. “There is so much I wanna do to ya, Babygirl.”

“Yeah?” You managed to squeak out.

“Oh yeah.” The next thing you knew you were seated on the counter, barely on it. “Lean back a bit,” he ordered, removing your panties and lifting up your skirt.

You did as you were told, bracing yourself against the back edge so you wouldn’t fall. His kisses moved from your neck, to your collarbone, to your exposed cleavage, to your covered stomach, and to your thighs before he maneuvered them over his shoulders and found home where they met.

The sensation of his tongue inside you made you shiver. His tongue’s pace was steady, before he licked up and refocused on your clit. You were moaning, eyes closed with your head tilted back at the sensation of him running his tongue over your clit. After a moment he inserted a finger, starting to pump. Your breathing was becoming heavier, faster. He inserted a second finger, pumping faster, curling his fingers to hit your g spot.

“I want ya so bad,” Majima growled against you, his fingers still working you over, “but I love the way ya sound.” He bit your thigh before returning.

“Go-chan, I—” You whined, your hand in his hair.

Majima grinned, pumping his fingers faster and flicking his tongue over your clit again, his eyes peeking, watching your face as he felt you start to rhythmically clench around him. He couldn’t help but grin wickedly, knowing he was the cause of the mind-numbing orgasm that had left you speechless. Your vision tunneled, and you rode the waves. He had slowed down his pace, but he didn’t stop until your orgasm had ended.

“You think you can stand?” He asked you.

“I—Yeah, maybe,” you could hardly think.

“Better safe than sorry.” He picked you up, carrying you over to the pool table, laying you down on it. “Are ya comfortable?” He asked, running a hand on your thigh, getting dangerously close to your center before returning down your thigh, repeating the motion.

“Go-chaaan,” you whined.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, knowing exactly what you wanted. Instead of giving it to you, he slid his fingers in again. His other hand unbuttoned your shirt and moved your bra so your breast was exposed. He bent down, taking it in his mouth, causing you to moan even louder. “Baby girl,” he hummed, immediately shifting his kisses from your nipple, to your cleavage, to your collarbone, to your neck. “Whadda ya want?”

“I want youuuu,” you moaned, your eyes closed.

“Yer wish is my command,” his hands already working on his belt.

It didn’t take long before his erection was free and against you. His breath hitched and you felt his dick twitch against your thigh before he pulled you to the edge. Once again, your legs were over his shoulders as he lined himself up at your entrance, slowly working his way in so you had time to adjust.

He had to close his eyes to keep control while you adjusted to him. Once he was in, he slowly started to thrust. His pace started to quicken. His hands found their place on your hips, holding you steady as he picked up the speed. He closed his eye, biting his lip and tilting his head up for a moment before looking down at you.

“Yer beautiful,” he was breathless. You couldn’t stop moaning, but you looked at him, your face still lost in a place of pure bliss. “Fuck, ya feel so good, Y/n.”

“So do you,” you managed to pant, watching him watch you. You groaned, reaching your hands over you to grab the edge of the table. “Fuck, Go-chan.”

Majima moved one hand from your hip to gently rub your clit, trying to focus on you and your pleasure, even though he was getting lost in his own. You’d already came once, and he always made you come at least twice before he got his rocks off. It didn’t take long before you were clenching around him again, quickly approaching your second orgasm. His pace increased, watching your face as your orgasm ripped through you with a loud, animalistic groan. He growled as your rhythmic contractions pushed him closer and closer to the edge before he too fell off. He gave a few more thrusts before braced himself against the pool table, the two of you panting before your lips met in a tender kiss. He pulled out and kissed your calf.

“I love you,” Majima said, not bothering with his fake accent. “I really do. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know,” you panted, running a hand through his hair before trying to steady your breathing.

“I mean it,” he leaned down and kissed your cheek, letting himself lower so he was on top of you, careful not to put his full weight on your body. He rested his cheek against yours and closed his eye, still panting. “I am helplessly yours. Whatever you ask of me, I’ll do it.”

“Take me home?” You asked. “Hold me until we fall asleep?”

“As you wish,” another kiss to your cheek and he was up, quickly finding something to clean you up.

The two of you adjusted your clothing and he pulled you in for an embrace, holding you close and tight. You rested your head against him, taking in the moment.

#majima #Goro majima #Majima x reader #Goro Majima x reader #yakuza #Majima everywhere

[perkynurples]

HOW did the lan bros ever reconcile the whole "did you really fight 30+ of our esteemed clan members & break so, so many lan principles?" "did you really stand up at the pledging & swear along with the others to kill wei ying?" THING? like... jiang cheng got a decade-plus to sort out his feelings on his own (yes, he's super traumatized, but this is a lan bros ask. Yunmeng bros reconciliation is its own deal). The lan bros had to look at each other (and AFTER each other) that entire time like HOW

oh they absolutely understood what the other one was about

and to drive that point home, I first gotta refer all of you to: THIS POST by @baoshan-sanren that explains the difference between an individualist and collectivist society, and THIS ONE by @acutebird-fics that talks about LXC’s motivations re: LWJ’s punishment

Basically, LXC knew from day one that a) LWJ was hopeless for WWX and b) that WWX would be trouble, there was just absolutely no guessing how much trouble. There’s a lovely conversation they have about halfway through everything unfolding, when LWJ asks him something along the lines of ‘are there set rules for everything in the world?’ and LXC basically goes ‘look, I thought so too, but then I did A LOT of reading from the one source everyone always told me would have all the answers (aka all the Gusu texts), and turns out... yeah, not so much. Can’t predict EVERYTHING.’.

And this really just precedes everything LWJ goes through because of WWX, on his behalf, and it also explains why LXC never once falters from his side. Is he heartbroken to see LWJ like this, sacrificing so much for the person he loves the most but is incapable of saving? God damn, of course. Is he appropriately horrified, watching him stand against the elders of their own clan? UH-HUH. Is he maybe the one to finally gently knock Wangji out when he won’t stop attacking, apologizing all the way but absolutely determined that this can’t go on any longer? ...I just thought of this and made myself sad, so who knows.

But like, he understands. He’s never shown disparaging LWJ for his choices. He is shown trying and failing to get through to WWX and explain to him that certain people care about him, and if he could please think for one second about those people’s feelings. He wants to protect Wangji with everything he’s got, but he also knows he ultimately has to let him make his own choices, and can’t really save him from the fallout of those.

And true, we never really get to see how LWJ reacts post-punishment, we never get those sweet sweet Twin Jades talks we so deserve, but. LWJ absolutely understands LXC’s choices, too. Because his are his own, and he wouldn’t dream of asking his Sect Leader of a brother to follow him and WWX down that single plank bridge, ever.

And besides, by the time he’s standing up against those sect elders, we’ve been afforded the luxury of his and WWX’s POV for ages, we sympathize. However, if you look at it from literally any other point of view, he’s chosen to defend a mass murderer and a guy who’s disrupted the very fabric of what that culture believes to be right, against his own damn family. It’s romantic for us, because we’re supposed to see it that way, but holy shit, dude. Like, from the point of view of someone raised in an individualistic society, of course it’s brave and heartwrenching and ultimately amazing, what both LWJ and especially WWX do, but when you take the time and learn a little bit about just how big of an issue disrespecting the dead like that is to that culture (I can’t claim to be an expert, others would have to take over here), you realize, okay, wow. This is kind of a big deal. 

As to why LXC went along with LWJ’s punishment in the wake of all that? I refer you to the posts linked at the top, they’re both very important to this part of the discussion. It’s honestly doing the characters a bit of a disservice, not considering other angles and points of view, but to get back to the point of this ask and answer, fics where LWJ goes around actively hating LXC in the wake of all that do not sit well with me - like, he is aware which hill he’s chosen to die on, so to speak. Does he regret it? Abso-fuckin-lutely not. Is he going to accept the punishment anyway? Yeah. Is he going to understand that LXC did what was in his power to support him when it mattered, but ultimately had an entire sect to think of? Come on, of course.

In a perfect selfish individualistic move, LXC could have said fuck it and stood by LWJ’s side, refused the punishment the elders came up with, et cetera. Hell, we could spend ages speculating about what would have happened differently if he’d, say, sheltered the Wen, or even spoken out a bit more loudly in their favor. But we absolutely cannot take these characters and regard them outside their circumstances, outside their responsibilities and duties. WWX makes breaking the rules look easy, LWJ suffers for it but it’s ultimately framed as this grand romantic dramatic thing. LXC does his damnedest to keep his sect afloat while also being scared shitless for his little brother, probably, but we are not afforded the luxury of that POV, now are we.

In conclusion, I don’t think for a second that these two could ever hate each other, or look at each other and suddenly not recognize who the other one’s become. Unlike JC and WWX, these two don’t have any secrets in front of each other. They don’t feel the need to keep any, because the other one knows them as well as he knows his own heartbeat. They don’t fall into the good old ‘I’m going to protect you and not tell you about it and never talk about our feelings and it’ll work out somehow’ emotionally repressive grooves. Of course they have their issues, and of course Wangji probably resents everyone who tries to talk some sense into him immediately after WWX’s death, but this is Xichen we’re talking about. Wangji cried in front of him and only him when they were little kids, and he can cry in front of him now, only half because of the bandages Xichen is changing on his back.

Even after everything, especially after everything, there just simply isn’t a place for hating their brother in either of their hearts, is the point I’m trying to make, I guess.

#lan wangji #lan xichen #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #hey how THE HELL did this turn into another meta #it's bc I can't shut up about the twin jades in relation to each other #but especially can't keep my mouth shut about LXC to NOBODY'S surprise #lxc #lwj #twin jades #my meta #Anonymous

[chokefriends]

Anatomy model Eustass Kid

By @godims0tired ♡ for my fic Life Drawing

Rating: E

Warnings: None

Characters & ships: Eustass Kid / Trafalgar Law

Word count: 2978

Summary: Law practices his anatomical drawing with Kidd as his subject. With his devil fruit abilities he can see right inside him.

Kidd finds this insanely romantic.

~~~

Read on Ao3 or below the cut. I know it's an older fic by now but I havent posted it here before so here!

~~~

Kidd jerked into full awareness as he lay sprawled in his bed. He checked around himself without moving and sensed a second heartbeat in the room, near enough that the dim echoes of its electrical impulses lapped at his skin like waves. Slow and calm. Just watching then; not yet poised to attack…

There were eyes on him.

It took him a moment to remember that the other heartbeat was supposed to be there. He wasn't used to having bedmates stay overnight.

Red eyes slid open and found keen grey ones fixed on him.

“The fuck you staring at.”

“You, idiot.”

The big redheaded sprawl snorted crassly at that and flopped over, returning the stare with sleepy menace.

Law smirked. He was wedged sideways in one of the heavy carved armchairs in Kidd's quarters, loosely wrapped in a sheet and busily scritch scritching in a large book. His gaze flicked from page to Kidd and back.

Kidd prodded him, “See something you want, Trafalgar? Come over here and take it.”

His limbs were still all loose and languid from when they'd fucked a couple hours before, but Kidd could stand to go another round. Especially with the sharp, evaluating looks Law was throwing him right now.

“Come on, c'mere.”

“Later. Go back to sleep, Eustass-ya.” The pen bobbed.

“Don’ wanna. What are you doing still up?”

“Just passing the time until my brain decides to let me fall asleep.” Law's insomniac woes again.

“A good fuck will do that for you. Lemme do the ligature thing and you'll be out like bam .” Kidd offered generously.

“Heheh. Thanks but oxygen deprivation is not the kind of sleep aid I need.”

“Your loss.”

Kidd burrowed into his cluster of satiny pillows with a sigh. For an infamously brutal pirate captain he sure liked his little extravagances. The whole room was draped with horribly clashing bits of luxurious fabrics and furs, and the odd shiny sharp thing. The manic magpie whims of past raids.

“Nah, that's no good,” Law recrossed long legs over the chair’s arm, well cushioned with some spotted pelt. “Go back to where you were a second ago.”

“Are you…? What, taking notes on me? Writing an ode to the sinful curve of my flawless ass?”

“Something like that. I'm adding my own anatomical diagrams to this medical text. It’s my favourite for reference material but the illustrations are scanty and kinda shit -- it's like they've never dissected anyone before.”

“Nice. Add a diagram of these.” Kidd kicked up a leg.

“Hah. I'm nowhere near the section on genital abnormalities, but I'll look you up when I get there. Turn on your side again, I was doing upper body musculature.”

“Ooo. I got lots of that, yeah.” Kidd complied.

The lamplight was flickering low behind Law. Kidd could see him and his book backlit dimly, the small hairs on his leanly muscled shoulders aglow like a nimbus. Tinged subtly blue.

Wait, blue?

“Do you have a Room up?”

“Yeah, so I can scan down and see the actual anatomical stuff.”

“Huh. That's handy. You don't even have to dissect anyone.”

“Yeah but it’s easier to see everything if you physically open someone up. You can isolate the individual structures that way.” Law peeked overtop of the book. “And it's more fun to do it the old-fashioned way, heh…”

Kidd gave a low laugh. Law wasn't even joking, he knew. He imagined waking up one night like this, to find some part of him delicately splayed open and the dark haired doctor sketching away with the same expression. If Law used his devil fruit power he could do it painlessly and bloodlessly, without even waking him. Kidd had seen him sever heads away from bodies completely within that blue sphere, both pieces still functioning as one. He’d never been the subject of that eerie power himself, though.

He didn’t think so, anyway.

Law untangled himself from chair and sheet, and finally came over to join him on the bed. Kidd was gifted briefly with a full view of the lithe figure. His recent handiwork was beginning to show in the mottling that ran up either thigh and the bites framing his chest tattoos.

The long limbs refolded next to him. “Stay there, I wanna do the neck muscles now.”

“Lemme see that first.”

“Don't be grabby,” Law complained, but gave up the book.

“Holy fuck.” Kidd flipped through studies of his back, shoulders, hands. “So that's how I look without skin, huh.”

He had been expecting more… yeah. Skin.

“I did say I was drawing the muscles.”

“And my bones and everything.”

“Yeah. Good skeletal structure too. Several odd calluses where breaks didn't quite set right, though.”

“You can see all of that?”

“Yeah, of course. Like I said, I can scan down to any level. Though it helps if I know already the shape of what I'm looking for.”

Something about the drawings was just so Law. The lines so precise, so sharp, somehow impatient. A little obsessive and overworked on certain details, like the hollow between his collar bones and the knobbly crook of his index finger, broken at least twice. Many practice studies on loose sheets of paper showed that Law had been trying to get these parts just right.

It occurred to Kidd that these weren't just anatomical studies using him as a model -- these were him.

Jotted notes crowded around the practice studies, but Law grabbed the book back before Kidd could read them properly.

“Trafalgar. Does that seriously say I have 8.2 litres of blood in me.”

“Nevermind that. Just an interesting fact. You have a lot of blood.”

Kidd stole another peek as Law held him off. “And that I have a grip strength of 68 kilograms in my right hand?”

“At least. That’s not something I can see; that's from uh, experience.”

Kidd leaned back with his hands laced behind his head to look at Law. “One might misinterpret this as a target profile of some kind.” Because that's exactly what it was -- a detailed map of Kidd’s strongest, and weakest points.

“Whoa, your blood pressure’s spiking.” Law grinned with more teeth than usual and leaned in to hover over him.

“Now you're just showing off,” Kidd complained.

“Does this disturb you?”

That wasn't exactly the feeling that was spreading through him, no. Or not entirely, anyway. Kidd just cracked his neck, stretching it out for Law's benefit, and raised an eyebrow.

“So you wanted some neck action? It's all yours.”

Law seemed to like the sound of that. He angled Kidd’s head away and up with a gentle press of fingers, so the ear and neck were exposed to him.

Kidd watched his shadow flicker on the opposite wall and listened to the pen scratch across paper. The undulating magnetic field of Law’s heart was so close now, washing over him. His own blood thudded in his ears, senses all on high alert from holding himself in this vulnerable position.

He could be fuckin patient. Sometimes. Well… when he had all of Law’s attention focused on him like this, he’d stay still forever. He could feel the sharp eyes on him like a touch. His own eyes started to wander back over…

He jumped a little when Law did touch him, nudging him back into place. And then trailing fingers over the mound behind his ear.

“Sternocleidomastoid,” Law mouthed to himself. “Levator scapulae…” The hand travelled down to his collarbone and rested there lightly, his thumb tracing little circles.

It was so calm. And strange. Rare for the reserved doctor to be so casually intimate. Even while they were fucking, touch was more like a struggle, hands straining against and into each other. Kidd was rough without even trying, but it was Law who seemed to flinch from any contact not resembling combat. Or medical care. Such structured things. He’d objected -- vehemently -- to being “pawed at” and “pet like a lap dog” often enough. As though anything less than bruising force would hurt more.

He was so guarded. It made Kidd greedy.

“You're hard, you know,” Law breathed onto his neck.

“Yeah I'm aware.”

“Heh.”

Tattooed fingers ran along Kidd’s side, over the tight bands hugging the ribs (“Serratus anterior…”), and pinpricks rose in their wake. Kidd found himself arching up against the hand desperately.

“Ah, fuck, Trafalgar…”

“Mhm,” Law responded, distracted. Or pretending to be. He followed a particular cord of muscle down Kidd’s powerful thigh with his thumb. “Sartorius. Gracilis.”

“Dick.”

“No that's not a muscle, Eustass-ya.”

“Oh for the love of GOD.”

Law made a sound that was probably a muffled laugh. “Hold still. I'm doing anatomical studies.”

“Oh is that what we're doing.”

“Obviously.”

“Where's the book.”

“It's…” Law looked around for a minute. “On the floor.”

Kidd covered his face with his hands and just laughed. Law sighed dramatically.

“Well. Guess I gotta start from the top again.”

 

---

Law could be a pushy bastard when he topped. But he kept up the slow, focused treatment this time and it was driving Kidd fucking insane.

“I'm gonna flip this the fuck around and pound you inside out if it takes any longer.” Kidd growled from under his arm, slung across his face.

This was as close as he could get to actually asking for it. Here he was laid out, so open and ready, core clenching and unclenching. Needing to be fucked, to have hands on him, in him, whatever. All of it.

“Nah you're not.” Law countered smugly.

“F-uck,” was all Kidd could come up with when a third finger twisted into his slicked up hole. His body tensed and spasmed before yielding itself open.

By the time Law was actually fucking him, Kidd had nearly popped a fucking vein.

Law pushed in slowly, slowly. Until they were pressed together as tight as they could go, breath hot on each other's faces.

“Shit, Tr--ahh…”

“Eustass-ya…”

He was done with all the slow shit. Kidd was a shifting mass of need under him and honestly, he was even more worked up. He dragged almost all the way out only to grind back in hard, and the tight body jolted.

“Aw fuck, yeah…”

Law braced his weight on his arms, pressing Kidd’s hips into the bed. He watched the muscles bunch beneath him with each impact, Kidd straining to meet him. Watched through skin so pale it was translucent, glowing and rippling.

Kidd still wasn't entirely sure what to make of that gaze. All hunger and splitting seams, open lips and ragged breath.

He quirked up one corner of a mocking mouth.

“The fuck’re you-- ah --staring at?”

Law didn't answer for a moment. Under Kidd's skin it was like… layers of red ribbons, wrapping him up. The ribbons all pulling and straining against each other when Kidd moved (when Law moved in him), like something inside was trying to burst out. Under them, ribs curving -- jealous fingers. Wetly clinging membranes. Then under that…

“Your heart. It's…”

Their bodies collided, beaded with sweat. Harder. More. Law could see, hear Kidd's heart beating faster as he picked up his pace. God, he could feel it in his palms. In his dick. Beating so strong it echoed in his ears, drowning out his own.

“Fucking perfect. It's perfect.”

Kidd laughed breathlessly. His heart. What the hell. “...You wanna get your hands on that too?”

Law did.

He wanted to grip it, feel it flutter, make it burst …

… What if I could? he thought. He slowed, thinking, and spread a hand over Kidd’s breastbone. Not just to incapacitate through dismemberment, but to cut a piece from the whole, one vital piece…

Kidd watched the pensive eyes flicker and gave him a swift jab of encouragement with his heel.

“You'll just have to get hold of it the old fashioned way. Hahahaaa…”

“Hah.” Law shook himself from his distracted state. He picked up a pace that was slower than before, though not less jarring. “Like… I should court you or like I should cut you open?”

“Whichever ...ah ... But you should fuckin get me off first.” Kidd guided the tattooed hand down from his chest to his dripping cock, and Law obliged, finally.

They fucked with foreheads pressed together and grips slipping on sweat slick skin. Kidd thought of Law digging his hands right into his chest and came in jerking starts like it was being beaten out of him, legs clamped tight around him. Skin thrumming with the echoes of hands and heartbeat.

 

---

Kidd flipped through the last few drawings with some undefinable flutter in his gut.

“That's some shit you won't see in any other textbook.”

“Mhm.” Law allowed himself to press against Kidd just slightly as they lay sprawled out, sweat drying in the cool air. He was in a fuckin good mood, kinda dazed.

“I do look damn good without skin, I'll say that much.”

“Heh. And with. You can see the suprasternal notch really clearly even under the skin, it's nice. I fuckin love all of that. That area.”

Kidd choked a little but Law didn't seem to realize what he'd said. And that's not even what he meant anyway, Kidd told himself.

But the whole thing kinda was the same as a confession, at least as far as Law went. The drawings, as vaguely threatening as they were, betrayed an intimate preoccupation with Kidd's finer points. Maybe even admiration. Definitely possessiveness. Need.

“I wanna do you too.”

Law grinned, “Already?”

“Not that, idiot. Draw you.”

“I didn’t know you could draw.”

“Well, draft. I can draft things -- just basic. For engineering stuff on the ship, mostly.”

“Oh, nice!” Law bounced up to get fresh paper from the floor by the chair. “How does one usually draft stuff? Don’t you need a triangle thing? Compasses, etcetera?”

“Maybe. I’ll just make an outline for now.”

Law seemed right into this whole idea. “Draw me like one of your machines, Eustass-ya.” He draped himself dramatically across the bed and Kidd shoved him with a grin.

“How do you want me, though.”

Kidd appreciated that question for a moment.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “I don’t know how to draw from life -- like perspective or anything. So it’s gonna be pretty diagrammatic. I just need a few details and some numbers.”

“Like specifications? How to build a Trafalgar?”

“Yeah, so I can make another if this one breaks.”

That made him laugh.

“Okay lie out flat and lemme measure you.”

“With what measuring tools?”

“I'll just eyeball it,” Kidd insisted.

This turned out to mean that he was going to get his hands all over him, which Law supposed was fair. He tensed and shied but stayed mostly still, letting Kidd explore his dimensions and proportions. Pages filled up with ratios and vectors of movement. Things got off track again around when Kidd was testing the rotation arc of his arms and quickly became vicious rutting. Light, skimming hands could become crushing ones so quickly.

Anyway, turned out that Law could get off while his arms were being hyperextended behind his back. Pretty effectively, in fact.

After, when they were laid out next to each other once again, and Law’s breaths were finally lengthening into sleep, Kidd dared to try another light touch. Without their thin pretense of functionality this time -- just want. He smoothed a hand over all the tattoos he'd taken such careful note of earlier. A large heart on his chest with a grinning skull similar to his Jolly Roger. Hearts on his shoulders. Kidd’s fingerprints blooming dark purple on his upper arms.

Sixty-eight kilograms of pressure and Law hadn't made a sound, but a feather touch over the marks and a quiet ah pushed past his lips.

“Whose emblem is that tattoo?”

Law mumbled with his eyes closed, “Someone who died. Long time ago.”

“Someone…” Kidd repeated to himself, but didn't probe. “You going to get any more?”

“Nah.” His breath stuttered slightly when Kidd trailed knuckles down his jaw. “I just like… your marks…”

He fell asleep with Kidd's lips against the shell of his ear.

 

---

A roll of broadsheet tied with string arrived by carrier gull when Law was back on his sub some days later. He stole away to his cluttered quarters and spread the roll out on the bed.

Inside the broadsheet was a large-format technical drawing.

There were three flat outlines of Law: front, back, side. All heavily marked out in blunt pencil, all surrounded by arcs and lines, dotted and solid, indicating measurements and angles of motion. The insides of the outlines were empty except for perfectly to scale renderings of his tattoos.

#kidlaw #trafalgar law #eustass kid #fanart #thank you so much dude i really mean it! #its exactly how I imagined laws drawing style to be ♡

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: May You Always Be Satisfied

Ahhh, so.. This is the third part to these two asks [ here ] and [ here ] and after this, there’s at least one more part. We’re still moderately angsty here, folks. Maybe the last part will be better? Let’s all just like.. hope or some shit.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE. AND THE HELP IN REALIZING WHAT THIS IDEA COULD ACTUALLY ADD UP TO. HUGE HUGS FRIEND.

Tag Squad:

@kyleoreillysknee @rampagewriting @writertoo18 @thatnerdwriter @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure @chasingeverybreakingwave @unabashedwrestlefics @wardl0w @missjenniferb @adampage @cabotcoves @cowboyshit @dietwrestling

[ tag list doc ] [ masterlist ] [ keep ‘em coming - they’re super fun ]

“ I mean, he looks happy. That’s all I want for him. What was I supposed to do? Throw myself on the floor, grab his ankles and tearfully beg him to stay?” I half questioned, offering a shrug to my neighbor Cordelia as she poured us both more wine. The television set was stopped on AEW in the background and even though I know I should’ve changed the channel when I heard his theme hit, somehow I just.. Couldn’t.

It was the first time I’d seen him in a little over 3 months now. And seeing him slink down the ramp was like ripping a bandage off a healing wound only to have that bandage catch halfway and bring up scar tissue with it.

I may be fooling everyone else at this point. I may seem as if I’m doing fine but deep down? Completely the opposite. In reality, I’m a breath away from breaking down at any second. There’s just so much shit I haven’t really… Dealt with.

I’ve just been ignoring it. He made his choice. I didn’t try to fight harder. I just let him go because I didn’t want to settle for being someone’s silver. 

“You realize you’re not hiding just how bad you’re taking this, right?” Cordelia’s statement had me glancing at her as I shrugged and sipped the red wine in my glass. At first, I tried to argue back and insist I was, but instead, my shoulders dropped and I sighed. 

“It’s the only option I have. He’s the one who left. He’s the one who said things weren’t working between us.”

Cordelia eyed me and sipped her own wine, going quiet for a few minutes. Then she spoke up again. “Which totally does not track with the man I met at that barbecue he came to with you. He looked at you like you hung the moon in the sky and told the stars to shine. It just doesn’t make any sense, that’s all I’m saying.”

My fingers curled over the edge of the kitchen island between us and I finished off my glass, reaching across the island for the bottle. She held it out of my reach and eyed me. I pouted at her. 

“All I’m saying here, Veronica.. It’s entirely possible that that pushy asshole he’s friends with had something to do with this.”

“That makes no sense. Adam can think for himself.”

“But maybe he’s gotten so used to going along with what everyone else pushes him to think and do that he’s forgotten how. Maybe the guy said something and Adam took it to an extreme. C’mon, you’ve said yourself that you didn’t like the way the guy constantly tried to undermine and ignore Adam.”

“Yeah, well if that’s the case, then I can’t be with him either. So either way, this is still an unsolvable dilemma. I’m not going to settle for being someone’s second choice. And I’m not going to sit back quietly and watch someone I love let himself be held back by so called friends who think they know best, either. We’re at an impasse.” I frowned to myself and picked up the remote, turning off the television, which only earned me a pout from Cordelia.

“What?” I shrugged off her pout and took a few more  sips of my wine as I scrolled Instagram.

“I was watching that, ma’am. For my own scientific research.”

I snorted in laughter at what she said and looked up. “Does his name happen to be Wardlow?”

“ Hey, I can’t help it I have amazing taste.”

“Yeah, no. The verdict is still out there, Cordy.” I teased gently, sighing to myself as soon as I saw a post from Adam’s instagram story. I let myself linger on it a little bit. I tried to just.. Remain neutral.

But I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and I closed out of the app hurriedly, plasting the best fake smile on that I could as I looked up at her. “Either way, I’m going to be fine. I’m handling it.”

“Woman, you are ignoring the hell out of this. You loved him. Now stop being stubborn and at least allow yourself to own up to that.”

“You’re not gonna charge me for the therapy session, right doc?” I joked and she grumbled, rolling her eyes as she shook her head. 

“What I will do is insist that if you’re just hell bent on denying, you wipe your life of all traces that he was involved in it. Otherwise, you’re never going to not be miserable.”

“Already done. Do you see any pictures of us around here anymore?” I swept my arms wide, gesturing to my small apartment. Cordelia looked around and then shook her head, giving me one of her wise old lady looks. “You can get rid of the pictures, change the bedsheets, change your hair color and toss out all his old shirts he left behind… But you can’t make yourself forget him. Take it from me… You need to actually deal with this. And stop serial dating on Tinder. That’s where the serial killers all hide.”

“Bye, Cordie.” I chirped, laughing to myself as I shut the door behind her and leaned against it, taking a deep breath as my eyes wandered my apartment.

Okay, so maybe she’s right. Maybe I can’t totally forget him, but… I’m going to have to find some way to stop letting little moments of doubt where I want to reach out creep in. Because he ended things with me. He’s the one who couldn’t get over an ex girlfriend. I wasn’t ever going to be enough for him.

And yet, even as I stood there, thinking about it all, I still found myself wondering… What if I was completely wrong?

“I have got to just get over this.” I grumbled to myself as I made my way to bed, falling face first into it.

--

“You do realize that Matt’s just the kind of jackass who stirs shit up, right man?” Mox spoke up from beside me, sitting down the glass of bourbon he’d been nursing most of the night. I shrugged and sighed, barely managing to keep my jaw unclenched.

He wasn’t exactly telling me something I wasn’t aware of… Didn’t mean I fucking wanted to hear it. I knew Matt was stirring the pot when he told me he’d run into Veronica again. The sumbitch was full on shit eating grin as he told me that he heard it going around that she’s been on a different date every night for the past few weeks now. 

And damn it, despite trying my best not to let it get in my head, it got in my head and it got in deep.

“He really told ya girl about the ex?” Mox shook his head, letting out a low whistle as he followed up, “What’d he say?”

“Probably what I let slip about wondering if I was still in love with her.”

“Goddamn. Page, you’re too fuckin nice for your own good. If it were me?” Mox pointed to himself and took a sip from the glass, “I’d have beaten his ass all over the place.”

“ Why bother? He had a point and he wasn’t lyin. I honestly thought I might be in love with my ex at the time. She’d come back, she was callin and texting me all the time again. Got me thinkin about how much we did go through together… Missin her a little.”

“And now, dumb fucker?”

I glared at him before answering. “Now I just feel empty. And it hurts like hell because she didn’t even put up a fight when I broke things off between us. Hell, I’m disgusted with myself now, actually. I let everybody else dictate what I did with my own life… Again.”

“Yeah, that’s a habit of yours, man. Not a good one either. What you gotta do is say fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em all. If you wanna fix this? It’s on you to fix. She shouldn’t have had to beg ya not to end things. If ya even thought for a second ya were about to fuck up, maybe ya shouldn’t have ended shit.” Mox grumbled, glancing up at the MMA fight we’d been watching on the tv. “But no. No, ya really had to go and let Omega and Jackson’s bitch asses dictate your move. Play into their hands.”

“This isn’t helpin, Mox.”

“You said you wanted to be around honest people, man. I’m bein honest. You’re a fuckin idiot, okay? And if you think it’s over, you’re an even bigger one. Because man,” he chuckled and took a longer sip. “If you really want her back? You gotta make it happen. Stop sittin around and whinin, holy shit. Step the fuck up and prove her wrong.” 

I eyed him, waiting on him to explain.

“She probably thinks ya never gonna love her like ya did that ex. And the longer ya sit here, drownin it in alcohol, the more she’s gonna believe she’s right on that. Nobody likes feelin second best, man. Does it fuckin feel good when Jackson and Omega do that shit to you?”

“Fuck no.” I answered, beginning to see where Mox was going with this rollercoaster of a pep talk.

The wheels were turning in my mind.

“Then don’t fuckin let it happen with her. If you think you’re feelin bad right now, try imaginin how she feels, man.” Mox finished off his drink and rose from the stool, nodding. “Gonna go out for a smoke. You.. Think about what I fucking said. Got it, man?”

And think about it, I did.

I know by now, no thanks to Matt, that whoever she was with that day I did go to her and try to make this right… They’re not a thing anymore. So, maybe…

Maybe it’s not too late.

#kyleoreillysknee

[fatebreaking-a]

☀️

I like how this is literally indecipherable on desktop, so I had to go onto my phone (where it was still indecipherable) and then open it in safari to figure out which one this was.

☀ What’s your rp pet peeve?

It’s this one and not the other one right above it that also looks like a sun.

Emoticons, man.

Well, that was fun and all but- rp pet peeves. Stuff under the cut. Pour one out for the entire community, because I’m about to take a pound of flesh from everyone.

There’s a lot of stuff in here that boils down to just being a good writing partner and all that, trying to advance the action in a natural way, and so on… and I think a lot of it can boil down to either a lack of awareness or a lack of experience. People get better at writing by writing, so I find it hard to really be frustrated and stay frustrated by someone who falls into some of these pitfalls. So you’ll notice I don’t really target things that have to do with writing skill as much as I target ‘attitude’ and ‘conscientiousness’. There is a lot that bothers me though, so here’s a short list.

Criticizing the way other people have fun. This is a big one. What this boils down to is conversations about how “this ship isn’t realistic” or “your ideals on writing are dumb” or “you take writing too seriously/not seriously enough.” I’ve seen all of these. And I used to know someone on a forum-based RP site that would actively go out of her way to criticize that people would include a lot of introspection in scenes that were fast paced. For instance, using poetic language, or talking about how they’re feeling, what the situation was, “he felt like he was up against the tide, that his heart was being torn in two, a cut made deeper with every clash of their blades” - stuff like that. She hated it. And she made sure everyone knew that she did not approve of how much they were writing, because it was ‘not realistic’. And yes, there is definite merit to the claim that people do not have time to introspect about their entire lives and their relationship to their allies and enemies between sword swings... But so what. I don’t think it’s wrong to advocate for shorter, simpler posts with less descriptive text, and to manage in 200 words instead of 600. That’s great. Simplicity has value, being concise is great, ‘brevity is the soul of wit’, whatever. But the problem, the problem was that she would criticize others for writing in a way that they enjoyed. No one got on her case for writing less, but she was so grating on this point that eventually people just did not want to be around her.

It was something I’ve experienced even here. Finding the balance between “writing to improve your ability to write” and “writing just to have fun” are two separate matters. People forget that individuals exist from both camps, and I have known people (multiple) who say ‘this is important to me, I’m growing my skills using RP as a medium’ but fail to empathize and recognize that not everyone has the same viewpoint. Caring about things that make you feel something over technically good and well executed writing does not make you a problem.

And as a big follow up, I find that this is a big issue in life in general. I think that people often forget how much time it took them to learn a certain thing, recognize their own investment, or recognize the disparity between their own idea of ‘common knowledge’ vs actually common knowledge. When I joined the community, I did not know what private, selective, independent, mun, muse, or mutuals meant. For someone who’s brand new, these are terms that can be hard to decipher. And it’s the similar with ships - I think that people forget that not everyone who comes to RP is from a writing background. Some of them may just have enjoyed reading fanfiction, or may have enjoyed their favorite bot lane duo, or they have a main and their partner has a main and they like the aesthetic. So long as it’s not inherently problematic (incest, pedophilia), it’s cruel to degrade someone and call everything that doesn’t make perfect sense a ‘crackship’. Fanart also has a big role to play in this. Do I personally like Sona with Ka/yn, Yas, Sy/las, Jh/in, or Dra/ven? No, I don’t. I don’t, but equally, it’s not right for me to get in someone’s face for liking it. If you love MF/Sona because it’s a fuckin’ sick classic wombo combo bot lane... that’s cool, more power to you. I wish people would ease up and remember to just let people have their fun. There’s a Jh/in that follows me, who politely asked if I shipped it and I said no, and then there was no hard feelings at all. And that is ideal for me. Really.

T h e f t.

And being ultra conscious of it. I am in a very unfortunate circumstance that many of my Sona hcs are very similar to another blog in the space. I found that out by accident, and we reached similar (but also different!) conclusions. But now I am terribly terrified of ever speaking to them, because gods above I want to lift all my duplicates into the air, kiss them, and scream about them... but I don’t want anyone to feel anxious that I’m copying them. It’s also why until about a week ago, I only followed one other Sona blog ever - written by one of my very, very close friends. I never want people to feel like I’m stealing from them, but I also want my duplicates to feel comfortable on my blog! I want them to feel okay about reblogging art of their characters if they like it or talking to me about things... And I’ve put in a lot of effort to be very divergent with my portrayals, but I still ended up in this situation. I won’t name names ( and I really hope that no one bothers that other Sona, because she’s a genuine sweetheart and deserves love and appreciation ),  b ut... This is a big issue for me.

And it’s exacerbated by the fact that some people are lazy as fuck and actually just straight up steal ideas. It’s not ‘inspired by’, which I usually take care to do, giving proper credits or speaking about where I got information from or from whom or that it is on some level almost collaborative (because this is a collaborative space where we interact with each other, but that’s another topic). But I mean some people just recklessly steal and because we all have anxiety (TM), the line between coincidence, inspiration, and theft blurs. Understand that on some level, plagarism is an ethical dilemma, and I exist in the camp that says “hey man that’s cool come talk to me” - but I can exist in that camp because I insist on a very divergent interpretation that is almost ‘theft-proof’. I do not think any other Sona blog will ever have this combination of headcanons: “is a construct inspired by a house spirit, made up of one part crashed titan goddess, three parts demons, and each demon is represented by one of the strings of the instrument, which by the way shattered because bad reasons”. But if you’re not me, it’s hard to... stay loose about it.

And it’s hard to not get jealous.

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE. Alright I wrote down a list when I actually got this ask, so let’s run off that. ( Yuki, you fuck, you’re not done? Fuck no I’m not done. ) These next ones are big for me.

MISREPRESENTING YOUR WANTS / YOURSELF

what does that mean, you ask me. It means this. It means pretending to be interested in ideas or interactions, even if you’re not interested. I do not ever want to be in the situation where I am happily chugging along, talking about a dynamic, and then find out that the other person isn’t as interested.

It’s fine to be mellow about it dude. I would rather know that you’re like... just okay on it all. I don’t want you to be polite and ‘spare my feelings’ and force yourself.

I want you to have fun. Have fun. God just have fun, you know? Please. There are a ton of interactions I’m “just okay” with, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I can be just okay with stuff and it’s fine. Not everything needs to click instantly but like...

Only showing interest to appeal to me or spare my feelings kinda sucks. It doesn’t last forever. It feels really bad. And eventually when things fall apart, it feels even worse. Like oh you really just did not care that much. Or you didn’t enjoy writing with me? Or what is it? See: jealousy/anxiety. Just be honest.

I think you especially have seen this with me, but I have a penchant for just being sincere and honest about how I feel about things. At least a little bit.

Don’t share things people tell you in confidence.

Fucking duh but it needs to be stated. Sometimes people gotta vent. It happens. And I get that ‘talking behind someone’s back’ is not great, but expressing frustration is a real thing that has real value. And then finding out that those things were shared. If I didn’t bring it up with them myself, I didn’t want them to know. Duh. I’m not talking to be catty but because I’m upset. S h i t. Some of the drama that I’ve seen happen from others doing this (and not to me, but in various cases) was entirely unavoidable. I’ve seen so many variants of this. It’s dumb dude. It’s dumb.

Hard vs Soft statements (Stating opinions as facts)

This is another one that gets me. I come from a world where we write, ‘Sona tries to’ and so on to others. Tumblr as a whole doesn’t seem to conceptually engage with the idea of ‘interrupting actions’ and accepting that interactions are a little malleable. And it in turn reflects how others speak about characters.

I never see, “I think Sona is”, I see “Sona is.” This is such a minor little thing, and I’ve come to accept that it’s part of the culture, but it can be terribly frustrating when others speak about your characters. I often say things like “I see Sona as” or “Because of xyz, Ori/anna would probably-” etc. But that isn’t something that I see here from some people. I know that I do this a lot less these days, in part because I have acclimated to the culture.

Incidentally, there are some joke versions of this that are also frustrating. People can really think they’re being funny, but end up just shutting you out of the conversation entirely when they say ‘No’. I might be a little too sensitive to this though, in that I often disengage from conversations because “it’s not really about my interpretation, so it’s better if I not say anything because it’s not relevant and doesn’t contribute.”

Really, I’m just a weenie baby, but I know when someone’s being rude vs when it’s just my own anxieties. I don’t expect everyone to have unshakable confidence, I also don’t expect that everyone be quivering in their boots. Some people can be really, really dismissive and it’s kind of not so great because it comes along with them otherwise being pretty neat.

Last one: Misrepresentation of data / using a ‘preponderance of evidence’ when there really isn’t that much.

How do I even put this.

CONJECTURE IS NOT FACT.

CONJECTURE IS NOT FACT.

CONJECTURE IS NOT FACT.

Phew. Okay that’s done. That right there is a big problem (and in combination with the pet peeve before that, it gets worse.)

Something to understand is that sometimes there is no good reason to pipe up to correct someone. Often, people are having a visceral, gut reaction and it’s very emotional. Criticizing that ignores the intent (that they’re frustrated), so it’s often a good idea to let it be.

But that doesn’t stop me from seeing that facts are poorly stated or misrepresented. The community likes to talk about league so I see it in OOC posts, and I also see claims that are just wrong. They’re misstated, exaggerated, or phrased in such a way that you could accept them - except one fact check will prove otherwise. But again, why get in someone’s face when they’re frustrated?

But this leads to some people feeling ‘complicit acceptance’. Which is in itself another problem that I won’t get into.

I as a person tend to be pretty rigorous. If I see facts and I can check them with a quick google search, I often do - especially League. It’s so easy to check a champion’s win rate or popularity. Other people do not always exercise this rigor.

“Alright fuckface but that’s talking about league and not rp.”

Yeah okay you make a fair and valid point, except for the part where you missed bullet points 2-4. I’m more talking about the general attitude people have but let’s talk specifically more about RP.

There’s content. A lot of content. And most of it is really vague, because that’s how R I O T G A M E S does things. We still can’t get a straight answer on whether Sona’s adopted mom, Lestara, is alive or not. H u h?

And this often leads to us making connections and conclusions based on the limited data we have. We’re extrapolating, taking what we know and trying to figure out something new.

Except when we get a new data set, sometimes our extrapolations don’t work anymore.

Except we just spent three months world building around our guesses ( because that’s what they are)

Oops I’m divergent now.

That happens. A lot. My entire blog was evidence of that, where I made extreme guesses and then accidentally got validated as Demacia went full grimdark. But it even happened last year, when suddenly we gained new information! Mage registration! That’s a thing! And it changes how we perceive things.

And you may be thinking, ‘ok fine but what does that have to do with misrepresentation’ and it has this to do with it. People will make conclusions based on their own view, then solidify these conclusions as ‘fact’.

For example, I wrote a small article on how “magical sight was not a reasonable power to have” and then soon after, Mageseekers appeared. Oops. Oops.

And these extrapolations get treated as though they are really fact. The line between what is ‘real’ and what is ‘assumed’ blurs. The truth is this. Unless it’s directly and unambiguously stated, it’s basically not fact. “But we can conclude-” I know. And then we’ll get new information and that’ll change. Ideas in this fandom are like balloons, you need to tie them down with text evidence or they’ll just float away before you even know it. I can talk about how Sona is a literal genius level intellect all day, and tomorrow I can be proven wrong by one little shift or clarification in the lore. ‘Within months’ - okay how many months? Fifteen months? Three months? Unknown.

And this leads me to preponderance of ‘evidence’. This one is long because it bothers me a bunch.

‘Preponderance of evidence’ (quotes required) is basically the situation in which someone goes and tells me:

“Listen buddy, I have these seven pieces of evidence, so I can reasonably conclude that [x] is true.” And that’s solid conjecture and extrapolation and I accept that.

Except that maybe you seven pieces of evidence aren’t all solid pieces of evidence.

Oh.

Oh no.

And that’s happened. I have seen evidence pieces one, two, four, and six all be good. And pieces three, five, and seven are a stretch at best.

But because they have so many pieces of evidence, it’s hard to critique back. Because they still do have four good pieces of evidence!

But the strength of the conclusion increases with more accurate and valid data points, and if your data points aren’t-

And that’s the rub, basically. Sometimes I see people fit evidence to their conclusion without even realizing it. Some of the most intelligent, rigorous, and well-versed writers on this site I’ve seen do it.

And it sucks.

And it’s a peeve because here’s  the truth.

The truth after all this talk is this very important fact.

I don’t say anything about these things to people because I don’t want to ruin anyone’s fun or engagement.

People make mistakes and say many things because they are passionate about what they’re talking about. Often that’s the case. And harmless conjecture misunderstandings are not the end of the world because this is not academia.

except that one time I wrote a writeup on how Aphe/lios isn’t mute but whatever.

And so while I have said all these things and have a lot of these feelings, I also think there’s no point to saying most of them directly to the person that bugs me. What good will it do? To someone who is reacting with their emotions and just wants to get their frustration out, or is speaking passionately about something... Just let it go.

And so often I let it go, even if I disagree. I have an opinion, but I don’t go out and toss it back in your face. I just get mad quietly and grump about it.

And that’s why I end up being a very ‘stay in my lane’ person.

The end.

If you read all the way through this, I’ll give you a cookie tbh. Many cookies. This is almost 3000 words and 7 pages.

#yuhl #ooc #long post tw #//3k words I'm sorry dash.

[intim3ate]

Kinktober Day 16 - Olfactophilia (Scent Kink) | KiriBaku [My Hero Academia]

Kirishima loved caramel. The smell of it was comforting, but he wouldn't realize just why that was until years later.

IT'S STILL THE 16TH WHERE I AM which means it's still technically Kirishima's birthday!! And it's also still Day 16 of Kinktober. For this fic, I went with the prompt Olfactophilia (Scent Kink). Because who doesn't love that.

This is loosely based on and inspired by that one tweet from @BAKUGAG0: "If you think Bakugou’s smelly bec he’s sweaty then think again. Nitroglycerin actually smells like burnt sugar. In other words, bakugou actually has a caramel scent. Thank you for coming to my ted talk". Gotta give credit where it's due!

Not a commission, but I’m doing kinktober commissions all month! Info can be found here. Please check it out!

AO3 Link | Commission Info | Patreon | Leave a Tip?

--

Kirishima loved caramel.

It was a recent sort of development, one that only came to the surface a few years ago. If he had to pinpoint an exact timeframe, he would say it began sometime shortly after he started at UA. He couldn't say what brought it on, other than the fact that the scent of it seemed to follow him. He'd catch a whiff of it in the dormitory hallways, in the classroom, in the cafeteria. He'd smell it wafting in the hallways on a rainy autumn day as Satou baked a cake; he'd catch Hagakure munching on chewy caramel candies when the girls would stay up late to study.

Eventually it stopped being a thing he really thought about. He'd catch the faintest trace of it in the air, he'd buy himself a box of the stuff, and he'd snack on it until the craving subsided. Something about the smell (and later, the taste) calmed him down, soothed him, made him feel like everything was going to be okay. That he was strong; that he was enough. It cheered him up, and slowly, that cheap box of caramels he'd get at the convenience store became his favourite snack and his go-to comfort food.

It wasn't until years later that he would realize what the real source of that comfort had been.

After graduating UA, Kirishima had been immediately accepted back into Fatgum's agency. He'd grown and developed into a headline-smashing hero worthy of his own agency long before the idea to do it had ever been planted in his head. Even once it had, he'd been reluctant to leave Fatgum's place, but he'd gone specifically because his mentor had told him it was time for him to break out of others' shadows.

So he did.

As soon as he'd left the office for the last time, Kirishima texted Bakugou to ask if he'd join him for post-patrol dinner. The response had been an immediate affirmative, and they had met up at Bakugou's favourite curry place an hour later.

"So what's this really about?" Bakugou asked, two bites into their meal.

Kirishima put down his chopsticks. "Huh?"

"Don't play dumb with me." Bakugou jabbed at Kirishima's chest with one finger, much more forcefully than was probably necessary. "You look like you're about to fuckin' explode, and you only ever get that look when you have something big to say. Just spit it out already."

Kirishima grinned and, in one breath, said, "IleftFatgum'splaceandIwanttostartmyownheroagency!"

Miraculously, Bakugou somehow managed to pick up on everything he'd just blurted out. "You idiot," he said. "You don't know shit about running your own agency."

"No, but I thought you might," Kirishima said. He extended his hand to Bakugou. "So what d'you think? Want to open up our own agency?"

After a moment of the latter staring him down angrily (no doubt pissed he'd managed to let Kirishima pull one over on him so easily), Bakugou snarled. The frown on his face twisted into a manic smirk -- the kind he only got when he was out-and-out excited about something -- and he slammed his hand into Kirishima's.

"My name comes first."

"Deal."

They finished their meal, but opted to skip the celebratory drinks. Instead, they celebrated the night with Kirishima slamming Bakugou against the wall of his apartment and kissing him like his life depended on it.

It wasn't their first kiss. Not by a long shot -- they had danced around their mutual feelings for years, each one aware of how the other felt but refusing to act on it outside of the occasional kiss or the even more occasional hookup. Neither wanted to risk the press finding out so early into their careers; or worse, villains catching wind and using a potential relationship against them. Kirishima had no doubt that if something happened to him, Bakugou would make sure there was hell to pay, but they didn't need to amplify that risk by being public about their feelings.

But now that they were going to be working together...

Well, that was a thought for later, after Kirishima had finished pounding Bakugou into the mattress. For the time being, all he cared about was the taste of Bakugou's tongue in his mouth, the press of a firm, muscled chest against his own, and the scent of caramel surrounding--

“Wait.”

Kirishima broke the kiss, leaving Bakugou heaving. The blond grit his teeth and glared, though the anger was somewhat lost among the blush blooming across his face and neck. "Why did you stop?!"

"D'you smell that?" Kirishima asked. He inhaled deeply, letting his eyes flutter closed as the tension quickly melted out of his body and evaporated. "Smells like caramel."

He didn't see Bakugou's eye twitch, but he did feel the hand in his hair yanking his head backwards. "Ow! Hey--"

"That's fucking me," Bakugou growled. "Are you seriously telling me that we've spent all this time together and you're just now realizing what my goddamn sweat smells like?"

"No, I... That's..."

Kirishima stopped. He couldn't come up with a decent rebuttal, because now that he had a chance to actually think about it, he realized Bakugou was right. All those times in the locker rooms, at the gym, at UA in the dorms and in class and during training...

"You've got to be kidding me." Bakugou let go of Kirishima and punched him in the shoulder. "You really are an idiot, you know that?"

Kirishima didn't respond. It all made sense now: all those times he'd been comforted by the smell of caramel, all those times opening a new box of candy would make him think of kisses stolen in the changing rooms when nobody was around...

He pushed Bakugou further into the wall. "Hey, Katsuki? I'm going to fucking ravish you."

He didn't give Bakugou a chance to respond. Kirishima just dove in and crushed their lips together. It was messy and inelegant and almost painful with how ferocious the motion was, but it was worth it for the absolutely filthy guttural moan he ripped from Bakugou's throat.

Kirishima grabbed his partner -- his partner! -- by the shoulders and dragged him into his bedroom. He never once broke the kiss, not even when he paused to tear his shirt off. Not that Bakugou would let him break it for any reason other than getting thrown down onto the bed.

He landed with a soft grunt, and in an instant Kirishima was on him again, slotting himself between Bakugou's thighs and grinding their hips together. He was already so hard, and Bakugou was halfway there himself, which just spurred him on further.

He buried his face in Bakugou's neck, kissing a line up and down the sensitive stretch of skin and inhaling deeply as he went. Bakugou was sweating already, a bead of it trickling down from behind his ear, and as it ran Kirishima followed it with his nose, greedily drinking in the scent.

His cock twitched. Bakugou must have felt it, because he ground down against it harder, rotating his hips to try and find just the right angle. But Kirishima stopped him, held his hips still, and pushed him away.

"What the hell," Bakugou growled. His fingers clenched in the comforter. "I thought you said you were going to ravish me."

"I am," Kirishima said, voice low and husky. "But I can't do that if you don't take your pants off, can I?"

He hooked his fingers in the waistbands of Bakugou's pants and boxers and tugged them off his hips. In an effort to help Kirishima get them off faster, Bakugou tried to kick them off, but all he really did was nearly kick Kirishima in the face.

"Be patient, man," Kirishima chided. "I'll only be a sec."

"Too long."

Bakugou sat up and lunged forward to grab Kirishima by the hips. He practically tore the pants off him, and though normally Kirishima would have said something, this time he was cut off before the words could even form in his head by another deep, hungry kiss. So fierce was the kiss, so tight was Bakugou's grip on the back of his head that Kirishima could hardly breathe. But he had to, had to --

He inhaled through his nose, breath stuttered and shallow, but it was just enough to flood his nostrils with the sweet, sweet scent of caramel once more. The wonderful overwhelming scent of Bakugou.

Bakugou yanked him away, finally giving him the space to fill his lungs, but Kirishima whined at the loss. How could he care about something so stupid as breathing when Bakugou smelled so good--?

He wasn't left wanting for long. Bakugou pushed his head down so that soon Kirishima found himself with his lips half an inch away from his best friend's dick. He opened his mouth instinctively, not even waiting for the command he knew was coming ("Well? Get to fucking work."), because he knew in the back of his lust-addled mind that the sooner he went down on Bakugou, the sooner he could lose himself in his scent again.

And he did. He took Bakugou in all the way to the back of his throat and buried his nose in the hair at the base of his cock, inhaling so deeply he started to feel lightheaded. It was only when he felt Bakugou take him by the hair again and force him to move that Kirishima began to properly blow his friend.

Once he (somewhat) regained his presence of mind, he grabbed Bakugou by the hips and forced him back in as deep as he could go, fighting his gag reflex and swallowing around the head as it hit his throat. He heard Bakugou whine above him, felt him thrash under his grip, but Kirishima didn't back off until he was satisfied. And once he was, he came off all at once, leaving Bakugou to whine in a way that was so unlike him it was almost jarring.

Almost. But it was way too hot to be anything but satisfying.

Kirishima got up, ignoring Bakugou cursing him out for stopping again, and retrieved a bottle of lube and a condom from his bedside drawer. He made quick work of stretching Bakugou out and preparing himself, knowing they were both too impatient to properly drag things out. That was just how it was for them: they both liked it fast, hard, and just a little bit rough.

Before Kirishima could even finish slicking himself up, Bakugou pushed himself onto the redhead's cock. He wrapped his legs around Kirishima's waist and reached up to pull him down into a kiss, less insistent and hungry than the last but twice as messy and desperate.

Kirishima scooped Bakugou up in his arms and held him close as he began to slowly rock in and out of him. He could feel the sticky-slick sheen of sweat coating Bakugou's chest (when had the blond taken off his shirt?) against his own skin, which meant that once again that perfect, perfect scent flooded his senses. Kirishima groaned and deepened the kiss, but a moment later he pulled away so he could nuzzle into Bakugou's neck, right at the nape where his hairline ended.

"Fuck, Katsuki, you smell go good," he whispered, not even totally aware he was speaking out loud. "How the hell did I not notice--"

"Shut up, you're ruining it," Bakugou spat, but his voice was so strained and high-pitched the usual fire behind it was all but lost. It made Kirishima laugh, but just as Bakugou asked, he said no more.

Instead, he focused entirely on the way Bakugou felt around him and under him. Tight, hot, slick; warm, sticky, sweet. Like caramel. If he could only taste--

He flicked his tongue out, but before he could get a proper taste, Kirishima felt Bakugou yank him by the hair again, pulling him only halfway out of his reverie. "Don't do that," he hissed. "Shit's not good for you."

"Mm... 'kay," Kirishima said, too lost in sensation to really comprehend what he was saying. But if it made his Katsuki happy...

He leaned forward and laid Bakugou back down against the bed properly. They were still so close to each other, chests pressed so tightly that it was hard to tell whose heartbeat was whose, but Kirishima was okay with that; he wanted nothing more than to completely envelop himself in Bakugou, to forget where he ended and where his best friend began.

It wasn't hard. They tangled each other up in their arms, clawed at each other's backs desperately, rolled their hips together and apart in time. They were in perfect sync, Kirishima hitting all the right spots and Bakugou clenching down around him just right...

Kirishima came first, unable to hold himself back. He emptied himself into Bakugou with a groan, the haze in his mind so thick he almost didn't realize he’d finished. It wasn’t until he felt something wet splash between them that he came to his senses and was finally pulled back to the realm of cognizance.

Slowly, he uncurled himself from around Bakugou, and when they were finally far enough apart that Kirishima could smile down at him, he found his friend -- his partner, his lover – smiling back up at him hazily.

"All that over some fucking nitroglycerin," he said. "You really are the biggest dork."

Weak as the insult was, Kirishima knew that meant the intent behind it was nothing but warm and affectionate. "Yeah, but you love it."

Bakugou leaned up and kissed him, masking his laughter with his words.

"Yeah. I guess I do."

#my hero academia #kiribaku #bakugou katsuki #Kirishima Eijirou #fanfic #r: e #kinktober

[invelleity]

psst. be honest. all of the questions. go.

i can’t believe jeanette is tryina kill me in public and i’m still love her??? | not accepting anymoooore | @ltbroccoli​

cracks knuckles here we go ( odd numbers 1-9 are here )

2. Are aesthetics important to you? If they are, why?

Not very. It’s fun and cute and all, but I care a whole lot more about “clicking” with people and having fun writing with them.

Exception: If someone’s aesthetic is so overblown that I can’t even find the pages on the blog or read the text, I.....won’t interact with that tbh.

4. How do you explain rp to someone in the real world?

(kicks down my roommate’s door at 10pm) “OK so I’m writing— stop screaming, it’s me,— I’m writing a character in Security and you’re like a double black belt or some shit, can you explain how—”

( My roommates all know it’s a thing I do but I’ve never sent them a link or shown them any of the actual writing. They’ve met a bunch of y’all over like Rabbit streams and @rumdaydreams​ irl though so like.... They Know. )

More under the cut

6. Do you prefer writing male muses or female more? Why?

Ehhh, depends on my mood. I lean towards female muses in general ( definitely got a bigger chunk of ladies on my list, for sure for sure ) but I love my boys.

8. Name any three things about the rpc that bother you.

Uhhhh A) We’re all such dumb socially awkward blobs so it’s often hard to get to know new people.

B) The feel that if you have a good relationship with one person who writes a canon muse, it’s some kind of lowkey betrayal to write with other people who write the same muse??

C) How much I, a certified card-carrying dumbass, stress myself out about posting on a “regular” schedule. Does that count? Like I want the blogs to look “presentable” lmao and me@me Calm The Fuck Down.

10. Have you ever had a bad experience with commissions? As either someone who makes them or as someone who buys them?

N / A

11. What do you know now about rp that you wish you knew when you first started?

Uhhhh, when I first started was long enough ago and the community was so different a lot of those lessons no longer apply. I wish when I finally jumped over to Tumblr I’d realized quicker how the new like....basic ways of meeting people and posting and all worked, which was mostly just a “calm down and go with the flow more, let go of your stupid rigid old habits” lmaooo.

12. Have you been involved in drama? Do you regret it?

yES. Yeah. Hahaha ha h. 

But ummm, not usually. No. Most of my drama has been either A) me posting the very very softest, most diluted version of barely-touching on my politics and my real goddamn life and people being fuckin butthurt as hell about or B) cutting people who were toxic and draining out of my life. So.

13. Have you ever thought about leaving rp? What caused it? What changed your mind?

cw suicidal ideation ment

Yeah. Once I actually did — when I started college I just didn’t have the time, so I peaced from the larger community to just write with close friends for a while. I’ve also considered leaving the T.umblr RPC a few times, but really only because of long bad depressive episodes. Coming back and “not wanting to literally die irl ha Ha” and catching up with my drafts gets me back on track lmao. 

14. Do you think rp has had a positive or negative affect on your life or you as a person?

Positive! Sometimes I worry that I spend too much time wrapped up in fiction and miss my real life, but I’ve learned to keep my time more separate so now it’s just good to have a healthy hobby that makes me happy. Also I’m definitely a much better writer for it, and there a lot of networking skills I think translate to real workplace skills so it’s 👌

15. How has rp changed you personally?

See above, tbh. And it gives me a lot of good outlets for writing ideas that would otherwise stew in my head until I hated myself for never ever writing any lmao. It’s good.

16. If you could change one thing about rp on tumblr, what would it be? Why?

Oh, I dunno. I wish I could post replies from mobile more easily, god. That’d keep me a lot more on top of my drafts lmao.

17. Have you ever sent a message to yourself on anon? Why?

Not on any of the rp blogs. ;^)

18. Have you ever sent hate to yourself on anon? Why? 

No, wtf

19. Do you delete anon hate or post and address it? Why?

Depends on the hate — things I feel need to be addressed or I want to be clear about not tolerating I’ll post. Personal hate and mean shit I delete.

Or if it’s stupid and makes me laugh I will definitely post that shit.

20. Have you ever felt pressured to write something you weren’t comfortable with?

Sometimes. If a partner is actually pressuring me I’m real good at saying uhhh hey, fuck off about that? but sometimes partners will perfectly-innocently be enthusiastic about things I’m not super comfortable with and that’s harder to bring up. So it’s..... more like I pressure myself, whoops.

21. Have you ever followed someone because you felt like you had to, not because you wanted to?

Ehh. Not really. Sometimes I’ll follow a friend of a friend despite lack of interest just because, like.... My friends are smart and good, maybe I’m just not getting the right “vibe” from their blog as who really they are. Sometimes that just means we never click and I unfollow them later. Or sometimes @rumdaydreams​ drags me straight to mutual hell and we write 20,000 unfinished bullshit and meet irl and she actually talks me into wholeass new blogs and muses. So, you know. Mix bag.

22. What would make you block someone?

Red flags for manipulation and lowgrade emotional a.buse, especially ones I viscerally feel in my stomach from previous experiences. Obvious r.ight-leaning politics ( Weirdly, I’m not particularly comfortable around people who don’t think I or my friends deserve to be treated like human beings! A character quirk, haha! )

Also ngl sometimes I block people just to remind myself I’ve followed them before and I don’t wanna re-follow them six times and look like I’m trying to intentionally harass them. My memory is bad but the block button always knows, lmao. 😅

23. Have you ever stolen something from someone else?

Not intentionally — I try very hard not to steal hc from duplicates or take plots without asking. But, y’know, sometimes an idea sticks in your head and you eventually just forget where it originally came from.

24. Have you ever had something stolen from you? If so, how did you handle it?

Not that I’m aware of.

25. Are you open to duplicates? Why / why not?

Absolutely, for the most part! I like seeing other perspectives, and especially since @thewrongsorts​ is such a bigass multi it lowkey just makes my life easier.

There are a few exceptions — less because they’re duplicates and more because there are hc/fanon I just......dislike enough I don’t wanna write with them. Not a feeling that’s limited to duplicates tbh.

26. How do you feel about vague posting? 

Ehhh. It’s like not a great thing, but I get the appeal. I tend to unfollow if someone posts a lot of it because then they’re just passive-aggressive as a person, but the occasional vagueblog I don’t mind. Sometimes you gotta get shit off your chest but you don’t wanna make it a wholeass call-out, I get it.

27. Do you follow people even if they don’t follow you back?

Generally I unfollow. I’m here to write, if we’re not interacting it’s clogging my dash. ( Honestly I unfollow mutuals eventually if we never write.... ) But very occasionally someone’s got such good #takes and hc that I stick around just bc I stan.

28. Do you read people’s rules before following or interacting?

A l w a y s.

29. What is your opinion on “reblog karma” and do you practice it?

It’s nice! Like.... I wouldn’t require anyone to do it, but it makes people feel better about their blogs, it’s polite. I know I’m happier getting memes as well as passing them along. You know, be social. Connect with people. I always try to practice it, yeah.

30. How have you responded to popular slang used on tumblr? Do you use it in every day life? Do you use it at all?

Uhhh, yeah. My irl social circles are a lot of dumb gay millennials, we use a lot of dumb internet slang.

31. Is there something you don’t know the meaning of but you haven’t asked anyone because you think it’s supposed to be general knowledge?

Oh yeah! Joined Tumblr rpc ten years late with Starbucks! But also like.... I’m a web developer. 90% of my irl workskills are being good at Googlin’ shit. So I’ve pretty much always found the answer on my own, at least. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

32. Was there ever something you had to ask someone to explain? 

( See above. )

33. Have you ever experienced discrimination? 

Here or irl or....? I mean yes in any case, but much less often in the rpc specifically. This blog is a lot less outspoken ( both about politics or about who I....am....generally ) than most of my others or me irl.

Shoutout to that time I complained one (1) time about how copacetic the H.arry P.otter rpc is and an actual irl n.eon.azi jumped in my inbox lmaooooooo.

34. How do you feel about personal blogs following your rp blog?

Uhhh, I don’t love it? But if they mostly chill and don’t fuck with my actual threads I usually ignore them. ¯\_( ‘ ‘ )_/¯

35. Have you ever cried while writing a reply?

No. I’m not like......good at crying. 😐

36. Do you read other people’s threads or do you only read your own?

Depends on the blog. Some multis I follow are in fandoms I just like don’t even understand, so I don’t read those. Sometimes I just don’t got the energy. But I read a lot of my friends’ other threads or threads on blogs I stan.

Good writing is good shit and I’m.....a big 👀 bitch. Tbh.

37. What’s one thing that other people seem to hate that doesn’t bother you?

Call-out posts, bringing real life politics into rp, generally acknowledging that we have lives outside of the fictional world that affect how we read and interact with fiction.

( 👏 The O.rder 👏👏 of the 👏 P.hoenix 👏👏 is A.ntif.a 👏👏👏 )

I don’t want to ever push that onto other people though, definitely. (Especially people affected by terrifying irl politics and coming here for escapism. )

38. How do you feel about tagging triggers? Do you tag them? How do you determine what is triggering content and what isn’t?

Always 👏👏 tag 👏👏 fucking 👏 triggers 👏👏👏

I tag things that are common or obviously upsetting, and if someone asks I add whatever tags they need to my list — the “list” is mostly a mental tally so I occasionally fuck up, but god I feel strongly about triggers.

Let 👏 people 👏 who are hurting 👏👏 live. 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

39. What advice would you give to someone new to rp?

Poking around to see how other people seem to “operate” and scrolling through posts about how to get started is so so so fucking helpful! Don’t be afraid to do it!

Also reach out to people as much as you can work up the spoons to. If they’re rude back to you, like..... They were never worth your time anyhow. You dodged a bullet.

( Value yourself 2k19 )

#i clearly numbered something wrong in there but uhhhhh oh well. #jeanette tag #answered #ask games #mun stuff #rpc #lonnnnngass post #under the cut #long post for ts #oh jeannete i.....love you #icb i answered all of these #what a day to be alive #icb i ended up tagging kate in this TWICE #kate tag #ltbroccoli

[americaiskillingitsyouth]

some personal shit, scroll on by, im screaming into the void

im really only posting this here bc my friends are already v aware of the situation and ive just got more sad-angry in me than anyone needs to receive in a text tbh

so basically, ive had a buddy for 10 years now, actually known the fucker since primary school so ive known him for 2 decades and been tight for 1 decade. he is by all accounts a great dude, i fucking love the guy and thats why this shit sucks so bad. 

when i first met this friend we had radically different political ideologies (i was a grimy goth leftie at the time and he was like that fuckin kid out of This Is England). this was before stuff like that would mean we could never be friends and we shared enough in common on every other level that we agreed to just not talk politics, he’d dial back his bullshit and i’d dial back mine. we saw each other all the time, the only time it was ever ok for the fash and the left to unite. 

now this friendship has endured all that, me moving away, him getting married, him having 2 kids, me moving to denmark, me becoming even more radical, him defecting to the left, him getting divorced and me having a full blown nervous breakdown (unrelated to the divorce haha). despite all this we would see each other every friday almost without fail, we’d snapchat hella when i was in denmark. 

the nervous breakdown here is relevant because throughout all that, despite going thru a divorce and sorting custody of 2 kids, as well as starting a burgeoning new relationship with one of our mutual friends (such a beautiful union tbh) dude would message me every day, see how i was doing. he let me crash at his place occasionally for a change of pace, and he had me leaving the house within 4 days of the breakdown beginning bc he needed my help to get the perfect present for his gf (i’d known her for yeeeeears before they met) and he knew i needed to get out of that bed. 

at no point, despite our differences and the paths our lives have gone, could our friendship ever be considered toxic. it was like a fox and the hound type thing... but with nazis. but then, enter diazepam. 

so this buddy, hes got a very addictive personality, he’s got a problem with codeine but never stronger opiates and its never really affected his behaviour. i’m a drug doer too man so idc as long as you’re staying safe and you aren’t hurting anybody. he was still a great dad (he still is) and a great friend. 

i got that jaw condition which means when it locks i gotta use them to loosen it (and also recreationally bc yeah... drugsy) so i always had valium. hes an anxious dude and as a fellow anxious dude i get it - dude was really worrying about it i’d throw him a valium and he’d feel better. this was on a weekly basis i couldnt have predicted quite what it would turn into. 

flash forward to now. I don’t get messages from him really that aren’t about valium in one way or another. it’s a case of “can you use the darknet to get me some valium?”, “do you have a couple valium i can have?” do “[my housemates] have any valium? can you ask them for me i’ll pay them back” etc etc etc, ad infinitum. 

like p recently he got not just a new girlfriend but a new job (one where phones are a no no) and im not an asshole, i dont need u to be hitting the bants w me every fuckin day, i would just appreciate a text that isnt about fucking valium. like homies so far gone that he doesnt care if its my last jaw-unlocking valium, if i reluctantly offer he’ll take it! 

“but big pissin mama,” you ask “why don’t you just say no? why don’t you just not give them to him”. well, theres a few answers to that question. first one, and to get it out the way, im a big ol’ vagina who can’t say no, i accept it, i hate it but i accept it. secondly, and this is the biggy, the nature of addiction. like ive had him go off on me once before, not hugely, but still going off bc of not being able to get any (all just being snippy ofc, nothing awful). ive seen my dude get angry at people and its scary, and frankly i am terrified at the idea of that being directed towards me. 

this aint my friend right now, and i know that so its ok. but to be buds thru so much and then be reduced down to valium dispensary is p cutting. but that said, he helped me immeasurably when i was mental, and i have to be there to help him now. just right now im really sad.

and im meant to be going to his house later cuz yknow... valium in exchange for an hour of face time before the valium kicks in and he gets all bbrrrrrvvvvvbvbvbvbvvvvv and has to go to bed. exactly what you want from ur friends. 

i’m probably not going to go. 

[worthyofluv]

Side Effects of D*ck too Bomb

Many of us weren’t properly educated on sex, the purpose of it and how to responsibly and respectfully engage in it by taking into account our health and safety, our emotions, the state of the relationship and what we want to achieve from said act. In my personal experience, the area where I missed the mark the most was when it came to having a meeting of the minds with the individual I was being intimate with. In other words, my head was in one place, theirs in another. I’m a vibey person, and so I often made the mistake of making decisions based on the chemistry rather than seeing the situation for what it really was.

Allot of us never got the infamous “talk,” but instead experienced the opposite. Whether our very natural desires were repressed and never acknowledged for religious regions or personal beliefs of sex being dirty or reserved for grown folk. Or maybe our caregivers were negligent resulting in us being exploited and unprotected at a vulnerable age. Residing on either end of the spectrum can show up in the form of disconnection, impulsive behavior, and choices being made by the ego, rather than from that part of us that be knowin. That part of us that becomes diminished over time as we become distracted by the daunting tasks of adulting; our inner guide. When we don’t create the space to re-parent ourselves, cultivate our own belief systems, and get to know ourselves on an intimate level, allot of suffering can come from possessing a false narrative around sex and how we relate to it.

Growing up, I can recall moments where I’d hear things like “you better not come home with no belly.” (black parents love saying that sh*t) or being referred to as a bitch and a slut when the word got out that I wasn’t a virgin anymore. I can even recount a time when I was told that I’d only be good for laying on my back. So naturally, I experienced allot of shame, but also became quite the rebellion. (No irony there)

I was also a curvy girl all my life. So as you can imagine, there was allot of projection and shaming around my body as well. Imagine the confusion that came over me when in 6th grade, this kid approached me to tell me that his boy, J.J., wanted to let me know that he thought I was thick. I had no fuckin clue what that meant because in my world, there was something wrong with my body. I was constantly hyper sexualized in spaces where I should have been empowered, uplifted and guided. But after years of peeling back layers of shame and anger, I realized that there was no time for any of that. We were in survival mode, and we cannot be taught which was not taught to our parents. Or maybe I’ve conceptualized the whole thing in my mind as a way to cope. Either way, I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason.

After many years of social research, I now understand that when J.J. sent the homie over to tell me that I was thick, he was giving me a compliment and perhaps trying to use said compliment to segway into a boyfriend/girlfriend situation. That definitely went over my head. LOL

But the real reason I brought you here today is because I felt called to start a dialogue about how shame can play a role in our choices when it comes to sex. More specifically, the side effects when the D*ck is too bomb!

Let’s get into it ;)

These N***s are Actual Wizards in The Sheets

When the D*ck is too bomb, you might find yourself in a situationship for two years only for him to commit to someone else. And in an effort to reclaim what you thought was yours, you say “but I love you,” and he responds, “but I don’t love you.” (Ouch!)

D*ck too bomb might have you going back to a toxic n***a, even though you are cognitively aware that he is toxic, but you’re just hoping that he will experience a spiritual awakening and realize that you are the backwoods to his Mary Jane. Ha-ha. The joke is on you sis. He’s just not that into you. But that’s ok!

Side Note: In this context, what I mean by toxic is someone who is mentally and emotionally unavailable or someone who just isn’t into you, but rather than clearly and explicitly telling you that he doesn’t want anything too heavy, he proceeds to deal with you and your emotions in a careless manner. This is NOT for the men who are honest in their dealings with women, only for the woman to create her own agenda in an effort to get cuffed. That’s a separate conversation for a separate time. What I am describing is an individual who is unaware of himself, doesn’t give a fuck about your feelings, or someone who is manipulative. He is in it solely for his pleasure. Some might refer to what I call toxic as a fuck boy. But I digress.

Bomb D might have you responding with a sense of urgency when you get that “come thru” text, only to see a newly posted picture of him and his girl the very next day as you peruse down your Facebook timeline. (Really bro?)

You might get hoodwinked into becoming a WHOLE side chick all because the “vibe” was right. And now you gotta change your number because your goofy ass fell in love.

Great sex will have you falling for someones representative rather than who they are at the core.

Bomb D will have you ready to commit to a n***a who you haven’t taken the time to understand or even know if the two of you are truly compatible.

It’ll have you fighting baby mama’s in the middle of the street (so embarrassing) and acting a whole ass and doing things completely out of character to keep Mr. D*ck too bomb, hoping that he has a spiritual awakening and makes you his wife or whatever the fuck they do in fairy tales.

Bomb Diggity D will have you on the pill despite experiencing adverse reactions like depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation and no menstrual flow, just so he can have his way with you. 

Great D*ck could potentially have you settling for crumbs when you deserve a full course meal.

D*ck too bomb will have you thinkin you wit the shits, whole time you’re just a scared little girl trying to fill a void that was created in your childhood. (Sheesh)

A word: Being crazy isn’t cute at all. It’s a waste of energy, usually towards a situation that is either out of your control, or towards something that you knew all along was occurring, but chose to remain blind. Emotional intelligence, autonomy over one’s self and the ability to use discernment is sexy.

I am not credible

I am no sexpert or relationship coach, so understand that I am only giving you my perspective from my very limited sense of perception. I have however experienced the unflattering side effects of d*ckmitization, as a result of an overwhelming amount of unworthiness and emptiness bleeding into my adolescence and adult years. My only goal here is to help someone who may not have the language to describe what they’re feeling, and to show others that we’re all fucked up in some way lol. And that when we shine a light on our flaws, they can no longer thrive in the dark crevices of our soul. I truly believe that having these difficult conversations are a fundamental part of us becoming the most authentic version of ourselves. Vulnerability actually feels kinda cool (Thanks Brene Brown)

Self-Preservation Hot Girl Style

My loves, if you find yourself in the rabbit hole of trying to seek validation and love through sexual means, than he is not the one who needs a spiritual awakening. It’s you! You are the problem, but you are also the solution. It’s time to work on you.

I encourage you to find solitude for a little while. Get acquainted with your own body. Touch yourself. Consider being celibate while you gain clarity. Seek therapy. Get in touch with your spirituality. Explore your belief systems around sex. Are you ok with casual sex? Do you need an emotional connection? Can you be friends with benefits? Or do you prefer a commitment? What are your thoughts on monogamy, cheating, marriage, kids? In what ways do you identify with your femininity or masculinity and how does that translate in the bedroom?

Make having an intimate relationship with yourself a priority so that you can navigate certain situations with more grace and less confusion. Read books, watch YouTube videos, listen to podcasts, talk to folks who been there done that. Invest in self-care practices like yoga, massages and dancing to cultivate that mind, body and spirit connection. Make loving yourself a ritual and understanding your nature a necessity. It is from this place of being grounded in who you are that you can make choices that align with your true values. We attract what we are. And when we have not taken the time to understand ourselves, we risk ending up in situations where we are disrespected, but really, we are only disrespecting ourselves. On the contrary, being self-aware can spare us allot of drama, because when we are in our power, it really doesn’t matter how bomb the D*ck is if it’s attached to someone who doesn’t value us or at the very least care about our well-being. We begin to observe his character to see if he’s worthy of our time and energy. And if he isn’t, that’s ok. We make a mental note that we’re not compatible, and we keep it moving. Cuz it really don’t even be that deep.

Pun intended.

-Divine

[lewiselder]

the prayer

my first post about the trainer happened around October. i wrote that entry on Wednesday, February 22nd. this particular event happened the next day. 

the next day. Thursday, February 23rd. 

I texted a couple people about it - Ian, Dana, Jake. i wasn’t sure what to do with it. i was legitimately worried if i posted about it right away that it might seem like i’m bullshitting. instead i’m taking it as a sign. from, uh, (god?) that making this, uh, (blog?) was a good idea. so thanks, guy who i’m about to roast in detail. 

SO, it was Thursday of last week. i had gotten off work a little early and went to the gym.

yeah...the same fucking gym lol

maybe there’s something to be said about Lifetime Fitnesseses. fitnesseses? fitnesseses. or maybe there’s something to be said about the kind of people who can afford a gym that is at least $70/month. probably the latter. 

but i dye grass. so i’m at the gym, in the beginning sets of squatting. from the corner of my eye i notice a dude near me who looks like he’s trying to get my attention. i do every gym go-ers favorite move - stop what i’m doing, take my sweaty headphones off, and turn to dr distracto. 

doctor distracto MD says to me in a syrupy voice, “Are you using this?” - referencing a bench near my squat rack. 

i say no. 

distracto, DDS then says, “hey man we met in the locker room yesterday.”

one armed handsome hero, “oh yeah, i remember...how’s it going?”

***FLASHBACK***

the night before i was getting my shit out of the locker before going home. a dad and his teenage son were using a locker next to me. i had seen them at the gym a few times before. i mostly recognized them because the teenage son always wore these old adidas crazy quick joints that Tim Duncan and John Wall wore in like 2013. 

^^^these ones. notice how i capitalize Tim Duncan and John Wall but not doctor distracto phd. also notice The Big Fundamental’s face here - not entirely dissimilar to mine whilst conversing with professor distractathon. 

any who. this dad ass dad (aka distracto - keep up) and his son ass son are next to me in the locker room. dad ass dad just kinda slides in my ear DMs with a quick, “i see you here a lot.” 

“yeah, i’m here too much” - my standard response to that comment, which gets a laugh like 65% of the time. 

dad ass dad goes on to introduce himself as will (i think). nice name there, will. he made a couple random comments about idk, the fucking gym or whatever, pretty small talk-y. then we part ways. 

***FLASH FORWARD***

so i’m at the squat rack in the middle of asking will (maybe it was bill?) how it was going after he mentioned we had met last night. then bill (phil?) hits me with what, in my life, is the conversational equivalent of an off ball screen you never see coming (but i kinda always see it coming)

phil (gill?) - gill goes: “so how long have you been dealin’ with that?” - sort of gesturing with his chin at my arm. 

me: “uh kinda a while lol i was born with it.” 

willbillphilgill aka distracto aka dad ass dad, in his slow, southern, lawn chair with a bud light voice goes: “Would you mind if i prayed with you?”

lol uh

i said something like - uh, well i don’t really pray...

dad ass dad kinda cuts me off there and goes: “i’ll lead it”

“okay” i say, interested as to what was about to happen. dad ass dad then clasps my right hand in a kind of like, white guy dap stance. 

so i’m standing there. hand in hand with some middle aged texan. in the middle of a lifetime fitness. at 4pm on a thursday. while his teenage son stands next to us. 

then this motherfucker really begins a prayer. it went something like this. 

Dear God. We ask that you heal Lewis here. May he be healed with all of your grace, mercy, and love. All this we ask of you, Lord. Thank you. Amen. 

qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm

i quickly felt the holy spirit wash over my poor, withered husk of an arm. yes lord!

nah but i did get to smell his fucking meat breath. 

now mind you this is the day after i’ve started a blog to chronicle, oh i don’t know, THIS EXACT SHIT lol. so him and i release our caucasian clasp. i kinda laugh and say thanks. i don’t remember what he said but it wasn’t much. him and his son wander off, presumably to go reconvene with the other missionaries scouring the gym floor for lepers in need. 

ps - i wonder if this guy and the trainer would have a spirited argument about science vs religion? ROBOT ARM! NO - GOD ARM! NO, ROBOT ARM! NO...

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

so i stand there. shocked? angry? happy? i was definitely well aware that this was fucking perfect for the project i had just undertaken. so, if nothing else, this blog has already turned what would have been an otherwise unpleasant experience into a (prettygoddamnoffensive) silver lining. big ups to the six, three of which are me in different states of mania, of ya’ll that will read this. srsly. ty. 

so. yuh. the day after i write about that fucking god damn trainer, this happens lol. 

honestly, i was a lot less mad at this guy than i was at the trainer. i really don’t know why. maybe because this dude wasn’t as ready to slice me up, or maybe i was just in a better mood. obv not great that he sees my arm as a disease to an otherwise healthy young man, but.... 

ALSO - gotta address the handicapped elephant in the room which has to be - what exactly did this dude mean/think would happen when he said “heal.” like, is god boutta catch me asleep one day and i just wake up with like 2 regular arms lol??? 2 elbows and 10 fingers and all that bougie shit??? 

man then i’d be just like ya’ll. 

yuck. 

jk - i’ll take one order of elbow pls. 

but anyway. so another instance of austinites being boooooold as fuck. i’m starting to miss the “that ain’t my fucking problem” attitude of St. Louis *swoons* i think a lot of this shit is just more evidence of how dehumanized people with disabilities are. like, son, you wouldn’t go up to some dude with glasses and pray to god for his sight to be restored, would you? but for some reason, every fuckin texan with eyes and a pulse seems to think they have the moral obligation to put their fuckin brisket scoops (hands) on me and offer me their help, advice, and now prayer. 

also, if this is what dads are like, i’m really not missing out on shit. 

so. idk. i guess ball’s in your court @God 

ps if u read this far, i’ll buy you a taco

#disability #disabled #luckyfin #lewiselder #lewis #elder #onearm #fuckyall #austin #texas #blog