#you will NOT get less depressed by taking that much you will just get permanently sick

[hey-i-am-trying]

hi, tripoier here! Long text incoming alert and a detailed explanation of the situation for qsmpblr (also sorry if I make some typos I'm writing without translator)

Yeah I also saw what happened today with the og admin of Pepito and I have a lot to say about it. First of all I'm not speaking in behalf of the community but I'm my own experience of the situation. I watched the development of Pepito's story since day one and fell in love with that little guy (and his laggy PC). Then second day arrived and I noticed the admin change bc he was less laggy and I've learned enough Portuguese and 07's (Richas admin) mannerisms to recognize when he's playing a character, even Roier noticed but didn't say anything until the screencap incident lol

Few day passed and 07 created such a cute and wholesome personality for Pepito, that contrasted very well with the role that roier was having at the moment— that it's understandable that it may not be too comfortable for some people but for the ones that had been watching Roier's story in the server + his relationship with Bobby, we take it with humor/hope for him to heal slowly after what happened in Purgatory and with Bobby (and believe me, Bobby had a HUGE impact on how Roier behaved with the rest of he eggs after his death)

So during the days 07 played as Pepito all the tripoiers were in this state of hope because we knew how much q!Roier was trying hard to not to get attached to Pepito, he knew the moment something happens to him he was gonna suffer A LOT, and Pepito was this pure, innocent ray of sunshine that it was imposible for us not to love immediately (Roier also did from day one but he loved to play with us + his lore at the moment was being in depression for the lost of his husband and having Richas and Leo in their comatose state). Also, is worth to mention that after he discovered it was 07 the one playing as Pepito he became more playful and started to tease him just to make him go out of role (and succeeded one time). Which is why he used the chancla a lot with him, as a shield for the feelings that were starting to grow on him again.

Then, Otipep happened.

This is the part I'm gonna be more careful to explain bc there is a language barrier that for the people who don't have Spanish as their first language they cannot understand or got confused

When Otipep appeared Roier noticed that it was another admin playing as Pepito because 07 was busy helping with Q's lore, we don't know if he recognized immediately that it was the original one or just a random temporary admin, but he noticed that this Pepito appeared where the fist one disconnected (in the garden outside of his house). Some people noticed that it was the original one and got happy bc it meaned that finally Pepito had his permanently admin back and bc Richas and the others eggs were also back from the coma we could see them both at the same time (roier used to joke about it every time 07 was around)

We also thought that the og admin had been catching up with the role that 07 has built so far with Pepito (which was not, and we would never know if it was either miscommunication between the admins or the og admin just decided to ignore the actual role to keep their 'idea' for the role), so at first we were a little bit shocked when this Pepito started acting so "dry" (idk if this is the correct word) with Roier, bc we had already gotten used to Pepito's tender way of speaking, but we just let that pass for a bit.

But then that "dry" behavior started going to go down a path were even we as an audience started getting uncomfortable, because roier was trying to socialize with the admin but they clearly didn't knew what's has been going on these past days, so Roier take the time to make a summary of the last days with his typical chill humor, and while he was doing that everything reached its final point with the sign "hueles a culo también hijo de puta" = you also smell like ass son of a bitch.

now This. THIS right here is what destroyed everything. Because you would say "oh, it's just Pepito following Roier's game, it's was in a playful way".

No.

It. was. not.

When Roier starts calling someone with some swears or related words is always in a playful way, and there is context and trust behind. When Otipep put that sign Roier was making a summary of the role that 07 has been doing with Pepito, bc he didn't wanted to let them behind, and while doing that he always explain with his usual humor to make it less unconformable for the admin/ entertained for his audience.

So when he placed that sign we all get out of the loop because it came from nowhere, even Roier kept silence of a few second because 1). it sounded rude, that sign was so out of place 2). Roier was explaining the last few days to the admin so he can keep up with the role, he was not "joking" with the admin, or moving on to another topic, he was helping the admin. 3). We, as an audience, felt so shocked because they weren't saying that to Roier in a playful way, they were giving weight to those words. And this is the part that people that do not have Spanish as their first language doesn't understand. They gave weight to the insult. They didn't wrote that as a joke, they directly INSULTED the streamer.

Then roier proceeded to hit him with the chancla bc he wanted to take the control back of the situation in a humorous way, a damage control in other words, because the chat was filling with "??????" And people getting offended and angry (justified, even I felt offended) with the admin, but Roier is not of those type of persons and he always try to make his streams a safe place for his community, so if you ask me he did a really well job handling the situation even tho he felt offended and his audience noticed that for the rest of the stream (hell, even days later)

And if that was not enough, Roier kept trying to save the situation but the admin was not cooperating, with the "no he preguntado"= I've not asked you and other sign that I just don't remember and is not really worth it (and bc Otipep literally left Roier speaking alone with the "I'm going to look for better parents" and went to spawn zone), he just gave up trying and waited for Richas to come back (which was also chocked w the situation)

And this is me speaking from a non-neutral tone, but I think we could've had a Roier being super loving and caring with Pepito if this situation didn't happen in the first place, bc after this I noticed that Roier stopped tried to get close to Pepito, the situation really affected him so whatever role he was building with the character he just simply stopped and changed the dynamic with another one more limited and less parental, but keeping his usual humor bc it was not the fault of the actual admin or 07, it is what it is unfortunately.

That's why I'm so glad that the actual admin and Ricardão did such a good job saving Pepito because the Spanish speaking community was about to drop him, even streamers friends of Roier that are not part of the qsmp acknowledge the behavior of Otipep with Roier (if that doesn't say a lot about how complicated it was on this side of the road)

And even after all these things there was people out there calling the Spanish speaking community as dramatic or harassing Roier when the situation happened (and it seems they still do it :/ ), but most of us kept quiet because we respect Roier and as he says, mejor pasamos de movidas.

and well, this is it, I know I'm missing some points in the story but honestly getting into fights or hate in general is not my thing, I wanted to give some context for the people of Tumblr because I know, at least here people take the time to read and are more chill unlike twt, and I hope I gave some clarification for the rest of the communities that are not native in Spanish, I really really love Pepito and I'm so glad we had 07 and the actual admin there to play this character, I still can't believe that person had the audacity to come out proudly as Pepito's 1st admin when literally no one from the Spanish community considers his 2 appereances as canon after their blunder xd

Thank you for sharing!

I understand that some stuff are hard to translate, thank you for taking the time. I didn't know that your community was being called dramatic because of that! That is dumb as hell and I am sorry it happend in the first place.

Of course we are no in business of spreading hate. I have always tried to see the other side of situations, I think from what I read in the admin's doc they had some kinda of vision for the character, but I guess they didn't realized that well, they were not going to become automaticly friends with Roier and have room to "joke" like that just because they have become an egg admin. Probably my best guest of what it happend.

It is really weird, maybe they were banking on the support that the other admins have gotten? Or they actually never realized how insulting they have come out as.

Well, I don't have much to say, except I am sorry it happend at all with Roier and the hispanic community.

#qsmp #qsmp discourse #otipep #pepitoadmin

[pc-98s]

honestly at this point i think i’m just trying to relearn how to enjoy things

#years of way too high a dose of antidepressants has fucked up my brain so bad #if you tell your psych you’re still depressed and they just increase the dose so high they don’t make the pills in that size run AWAY #you will NOT get less depressed by taking that much you will just get permanently sick #so yeah i’m just going and throwing myself into everything i’ve ever enjoyed desperately trying to feel something again

[astro-enthusiast]

Astro Observations 2.0

Thank you all for 222 followers! <3

Take these observations for what they are: personal observations.

Super duper long because I love you all. :)

Aries moons tend to always be on the move. Often times, these natives have something energetically "off" at home which results in them not even wanting to be there. They're the type to always be at work or at their friend's place. May have parents they want to get away from. At least one of their parents leans toward a more masculine energy.

You cannot be in your feelings when you talk to a Virgo moon. Their love language is literally telling you all the ways you can improve yourself. It's not necessarily that they're trying to make you feel some type of way, they genuinely don't think there's anything offensive about it. They're naturally attracted to "fixer-uppers" and they love a good project. Only problem is, people are not your projects and your loved ones are allowed to be flawed.

On the note of Virgo moons, they also have a tendency to be permanently unimpressed. My mom has this placement and my sister and I always wanted grand reactions to the stuff we did as kids, but we never got them. Even to this day, my mom is the queen of giving absolutely nothing extra energetically lol. They literally look like this emoji --->😐. Unless they have fire placements, they tend to be the definition of stoicism.

I've been studying the relationship between Scorpio moons and their mothers for a while now because it is such an interesting dynamic. I noticed in the past, that Scorpio moon natives may experience a rather controlling mother figure, but I've recently noticed that this controlling nature goes both ways. Yes, their mother has control over them and their actions, but they have just as much control over her too. They're almost like puppets to each other. It's an incredibly intriguing dynamic that honestly leaves me speechless. Makes you wonder, in these specific situations, "Is anyone here truly the victim?"

We've talked about how moon signs can manifest and what your mother may have taught you, but what I have yet to touch on is how your moon sign reflects your mother's pregnancy experience. I've studied this a bit and I think my mom is the perfect example! My sister and I have opposing moon signs: Cancer and Capricorn. I've spoken to my mom in-depth about both her pregnancies and here is how she describes them:

-Pregnancy with Cancer moon: she was overweight, gained 50+ lbs during her pregnancy, used food to cope with her abusive relationship, was on bedrest, too depressed to do or go anywhere, spent most of her days in the house crying.

-Pregnancy with Capricorn moon: she was in amazing physical condition, gained less than 20 lbs during pregnancy (10 lbs of that was baby), had endless energy, worked out every day, worked overtime at her job, was broken up from my dad, lived alone, was in her bag.

Opposite moon signs and two completely different pregnancies!! Crazy, right?!

I've heard the theory that Capricorn moons are the eldest child, which is true in many cases. However, in my experience as a Capricorn moon, I'm the youngest and my eldest sister is a Cancer moon. But that doesn't debunk my "big sister" energy lol. My sister has always referred to me as her "big little sister" and when we were younger and my mom left us home alone, she always left me in charge. My Cancer moon sister was known for her big emotions and ability to quickly lose control. This dynamic has always been funny to me. Ex. We had a tornado watch (super rare where I live) and my sister was running around the house screaming and crying. While I was calmly in my bedroom playing dolls keeping it kosher. 🤣

God really did give his toughest battles to Virgo, Scorpio and Capricorn moons. No one else is doing it like us! We came equipped with everything we needed to handle ALL the bs in our families.

Don't scorch me fire moons, but where is the personal accountability? I've seen water signs talk their way out of some situations, but the way a fire moon will dance around the truth really needs to be studied. I made this observation before and a Sag moon came for me which is how you know it's true. 😭

Moon sign compatibility is so real y'all. As an earth moon, I mainly form deep connections and bonds with other earth moons and *some* water moons. The other elements just don't do it for me. Even with my fire placements & degrees, I still struggle to understand fire moons.

I've read before that Leo moons have a tendency to be selfish, which I concur depending on the situation. But I think the reason why some of them act like this is because often times, they are either the only child or the favorite child. So they literally don't know what it means to compromise or not get their way. I've only met 2 Leo moons (that I know of) years apart and they both had the same tendencies and personality. Let me know if you've had a more positive experience with this moon sign!

Fixed moons may have mothers who are very controlling over their lives. Their mothers have a “fixed” idea of what their child’s life should look like. They have a tendency to have a puppet & puppeteer relationship. I’ve noticed that because of this, these natives tend to have one area of their lives that their mother can’t control and they spiral out of control in that area. Kinda like a “look mom, you can’t control me in EVERY way” type thing. The most common areas I’ve noticed this in is their sex lives and drugs/alcohol use.

Of course the above note is based on personal experience. I’ve heard quite a few mothers of fixed moons say to other people: “I made them do this” “there was no way I was gonna let them not do this…” like the kid has no choice in the matter.

Okay, enough about moon signs. For now...

This may not be too popular with the astro girlies buttt I believe we have a tendency to attract the versions of signs we speak into existence. For example, when I first started studying astrology, I was sick to my stomach to see that I was a Sagittarius rising because I had back-to-back experiences with Sagittarius suns stabbing me in the back, so I told myself they were the worst. In time, I wanted to accept all of my chart which included my own Sag placements. I had to heal my understanding and perception of them to see them differently. Now, I attract the funniest and kindest Sag suns! It all started with me. This is your sign to heal your trauma with that placement. 🤍 (yes, this is also a message to myself). What you see won't change until you change what you see!

If there's anything a mutable rising is gonna do it's change their physical appearance.

Earth risings, rising at earth degree, or chart ruler in earth house: these people are less likely to take bold chances and risks with their appearances. Not really the type to dye their hair crazy colors, although they are quick to get visible tattoos.

Virgo in big 6 appears naturally put together. They don't really have to get ready because they stay ready. And they expect the same from you, especially if you're their romantic partner. This is amplified if they have Libra or Leo placements.

I’ve noticed Virgo suns and risings are much less likely to wear makeup. I see them with it maybe once a year and even then it’s like one coat of mascara and some highlighter. One thing I have heard a lot of Virgo women say is that they literally don’t know how to do their makeup which may factor into why they don’t wear it. Virgo moons however do tend to wear makeup.

Aries and Scorpio placements are very protective of their loved ones. One wrong look in their direction and they're ready to pounce.

Gemini-Sagittarius axis: if there's one thing these placements are gonna do it's laugh at absolutely nothing for an extended period of time.

Taurus and Libra placements, do you really need that new blouse? Or that new stationary knowing dang well you have more than enough? No, put it back. Aht! PUT IT BACK. And keep your receipts, so when you get home from that impulsive purchase, you can bring it right back where you got it from.

Something about Virgo, Scorpio, Sagittarius and Capricorn placements in dark academia that really does something to me chile...dark academia was made for us!

Saturn rules teeth. Saturn placements and aspects can describe your teeth’s appearance and health. Saturn aspecting Jupiter may have larger teeth. Aspecting Mercury may result in the native having smaller teeth or possibly getting veneers. Saturn aspecting Venus can manifest as the native receiving many compliments on their teeth/smiles. In the case of harsher aspects, the native can feel their teeth directly hinder their perceived beauty.

I’ve noticed people with prominent Gemini/Virgo/Mercury placements are much more likely to have gaps in between their front teeth. Often times, this is a result of their teeth being on the smaller side.

Virgo placements (esp. moons) can have naturally “perfect” teeth that don’t require braces. But upon closer inspection, you can see their teeth are not perfect, but rather, the imperfections are so minuscule you have to truly look to find them.

Libra Suns typically go for either the relaxed look (very natural appearance, not much makeup) or all the frills (makeup, couture, luxury). I have yet to see an in between. Libras with Scorpio/8th house influence enjoy darker colors and go for a much more relaxed look. More likely to portray a dark feminine embodiment of Venus or a more natural feminine. Especially if they have Virgo placements.

Aries suns (males and females) are the BIGGEST sweethearts and I don’t see enough people praise them for their pure hearts. 🥹

DO NOT under any circumstances copy, paste, reword, rewrite, translate, or repost my work.

All Rights Reserved to astro-enthusiast.

#astrology #astroblr #astro observations #astro notes #astro #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #Leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #Aquarius #pisces

[cy-cyborg]

Disability Tropes: The disabling change of heart

When a character in a story becomes disabled, they'll sometimes experience a trope that I like to call "the disabling change of heart". This is when the character goes through a massive change in their outlook, their personality, their goals or even roll in the story, specifically because they became (or are about to become) physically disabled. Sometimes, this will be in relatively small ways: the happy-go-lucky comedic relief character might become bitter, angry and jaded after getting into an accident that caused a spinal injury, or the severally depressed and nihilistic character might suddenly start acting more cheerful and hopeful, stating that loosing their leg has "put things into perspective and showed them what really matters". In other cases though, the impact is much larger, the heroic character you've been hearing about looses an arm thanks to the main character's actions, causing them to become consumed with anger and self-loathing which they take out on everyone else, eventually becoming an antagonist as they seek revenge for what the main character did to them. The morally grey or even villainous character is injured by their own scheme, giving themselves a permanent disability in the process, which prompts a change of heart and leads them to turn their lives around and become better people, maybe even deciding to team up with the heroes.

Now, having a character go through a personality and goal change due to a major life event, such as becoming physically disabled, isn't inherently bad. A lot of writers are told to tie major shifts in your character's development to major life events, because realistically, something like becoming newly disabled will at least impact how you view the world around you. I very frequently talk about how if I didn't loose my legs, I would have become a vastly different person, but the issues with this trope depends on how it's used and the reasons behind these developments, and whether or not the change suits the character in question.

Before we get into things, I would like to specify that in this post, I'm only going to be talking about how this trope is used with physical disabilities and other easily visible forms of disability. It does show up with characters who develop disabilities under the mentally ill and neurodivergent umbrellas, and is actually a bit more common than what I'm talking about today, but the specific ways its utilised are so different that it's more or less a separate trope, and one that deserves much more attention than I could give it here as this is already going to be a pretty long post. So for today, I'm keeping to it's use with physical and visible disabilities, and we'll talk about how this trope is used with neurodivergence and mental illness another day.

The main thing you need to be mindful of is ensuring that you, as an author, are not including your ingrained biases about disability into the reasoning behind the change. Let's look at one of the examples from before, an evil character who, after loosing their arm (because it's almost always loosing an arm for some reason) becomes a villain and wants revenge against the main character. In a story like this example, the character who became an amputee often views this new disability as something that has ruined their life. It's something that has caused them to suffer, and they want to make the main character (or whoever has "wronged" them) suffer like they did. Stories like this example portray disability as something that is not just horrible, but life-destroying, especially with villains who become all-consumed by the misery this disability has brought them. Many stories that utilise this version of the trope also often perpetuate the idea that if you become disabled, you'll have to give up all the things you love and your goals, even when this wouldn't necessarily be true for the character in question.

Let's say your character was a knight, and the main character cut off their arm in a training accident. obviously you can't be a knight with only one arm because you can't fight anymore, so they left their order. Now this character has become a villain and has found power that "makes up" for their disability, perhaps magic or some other force that doesn't exist in the real world, and are back to get revenge on the character for ruining their lives. Here's the thing though, the loss of a limb, or at least, the loss of an arm specifically, often isn't the career ender people think it is, even back then. In fact, there are many historical records of real amputees continuing to serve as knights and other similar military roles after loosing an arm or at the very least, continuing to fight in other ways. One such example was Götz of the Iron Hand, a mercenary knight who lost his arm to a cannon. Götz had fought as part of the Roman empire's military in 1498, but shortly after left to form his own mercenary company. He lost his hand in 1504 and continued his career as a mercenary with the help of an iron prosthetic capable of holding his sword and the reigns of his horse, among many other things such as writing, for another 40 years. Götz wasn't unique in this though, several suits of armour from the same time period have been found with integrated prosthetic hands, though the names of their owners are unknown. There was also Oruç Reis (aka Aruj Barbarossa), A privateer admiral who served the Ottoman Empire in and around the Mediterranean who lost his left hand - earning him one of many nicknames: Silver-Hand, thanks to the colour of his prosthetic. Oruç, like Götz, continued his career for several more years until he was eventually killed in 1518.

My point in bringing this up, is to highlight how important it is to double check that the reason your character's whole motivation for turning to villainy, isn't just based on your ideas about what a disabled person can or can not do. Actually double check it, research it, especially if it's important for your plot.

Even in the cases where the disability in question actually would stop someone from being able to do something, the incorrect assumptions can still occur and cause issues in different ways. For example, a character in a more modern setting who looses their arm due to an accident the main character was responsible for while serving in the military would be discharged, ruining the character's plan to become a general some day. This absolutely would be devastating for a character like that, and they realistically could struggle to adjust, both in terms of getting used to their disability and finding new goals for their life. They may well feel anger at the main character, however, if you are portraying just living with a disability, in the case of this example, living with an amputation as inherently "suffering" for no other reason than they are disabled, it is still perpetuating those really negative ideas about disability. I've said this a few times in other posts, but villains who are evil or even just antagonists purely because they're disabled or are trying to avoid becoming disabled is a trope all its own and one that is best avoided if you yourself aren't disabled, as even outside of spreading these negative ideas about life with a disability, it's just an overdone and overused trope.

But what about when this trope goes in the other direction? when you have an antagonistic or even just morally grey character who becomes disabled and this is the catalyst that turns them into a good guy?

For the longest time, I knew I usually disliked this version of the trope too, but I couldn't put my finger on why. With disability being the reason someone became a villain, the underlying reason it's there is often able to be boiled down to "I, the writer, think being disabled would be terrible and life like that is inherently suffering, so this character is angry about it," which is obviously an issue (the "inherently suffering" bit, not the anger). However, when a character becomes good due to becoming disabled, the reasoning is usually more along the lines of, "this is a big change in a character's life that has caused them to reconsider and revaluate things" (or at least, that's what I thought). This isn't bad, nor is it necessarily unrealistic. Hell, as I already said, I do consider my disability to be a catalyst that made me into who I am today. I also know plenty of people who, after becoming disabled later in life, did have a big change in how they viewed themselves and the world, and who consider themselves better people since becoming disabled. It's far, far from a universal experience, mind you, but it does happen. So why did this version of the trope still not sit right with me?

Well, I think there's a few reasons for it. The first being that there's a tendency for non-disabled people to think real disabled people are just incapable of evil deeds, both in the sense that they aren't physically capable of doing them (which is bad and not even always true for the reasons we already discussed), but also in the sense that there's this idea that disabled people are, for some reason, inherently more "good" and "innocent" - As if breaking your back or loosing a limb causes all evil and impure thoughts to be purged from the body. This is a result of many folks viewing disabled people as child-like, and thus attributing child-like traits (such as innocence) to them, even subconsciously. This is an incredibly common issue and something disability rights organisations are constantly pushing back against, as this mentality can cause a lot of unnecessary barriers for us. With how often I and many other disabled people are subjected to infantilization, I would be honestly shocked if it wasn't at least partially responsible for people thinking becoming disabled is a good reason to kick off a redemption arc.

This infantilization isn't unique to physically disabled people by the way, in fact it's way, way, more commonly directed at people with intellectual and developmental disabilities - or at least, people are more open about it, but as I already mentioned, how that is reflected in tropes like The Disabling Change of Heart is vastly different and deserves a post of it's own.

That's mostly just speculation on my part though, since that infantilising mindset does show up a lot in media, but not usually as part of this trope specifically.

However, it's not the only reason I wasn't a fan of it. When the disabling change of heart is used to fuel redemption arcs, I think, once again, that the disability itself being credited with causing the change directly is another factor. When this happens, it's usually because "it put things into perspective for me and showed me what really mattered."

This sounds better than our previous example on the surface, but stories that use this logic are often still portraying disability as an inherently bad and tragic thing, something so bad, in fact, that it makes all the other (legitimate) issues they thought were massive before seem so small by comparison. This is a type of inspiration porn: content made to make non-disabled people feel inspired or just better about their own situation. It's the mentality of "well my life is bad, but it could be worse, at least I'm not disabled like that!"

In a fictional story, this might look like an athlete character who dreamed of making it big so they could be famous and get out of poverty. They were a dick to anyone who got in their way but only because they were worried about not being able to make rent if they don't constantly win. One day though, they overworked themselves and got into a car accident on the way home because they were too tired, and now they're in a wheelchair and can no longer walk, which is (supposedly) absolutely tragic and way worse than anything else they were already going through. But they end up becoming a better person because it has put things into perspective for them. Yeah they were struggling to make ends meet, but at least they weren't disabled! Now that they are, they know they shouldn't have cared so much, because money doesn't matter when compared to not being able to walk, right?

As well as portraying disability in a negative light, these kinds of stories dismiss and diminish the other struggles or challenges the character is experiencing, placing the status of "not disabled" above all else.

There's also the fact that, when a lot of real people say their disabilities had positive impacts on their lives, they don't usually mean the disability itself is directly responsible for the change. There's exceptions of course but for myself personally, and most of the people I know who say they are better people because of/since becoming disabled, the disability has been more of a neutral catalyst than the actual cause of positive change. Meaning, it opened the door to allow those changes to happen, but it wasn't the direct cause. For me personally, becoming physically disabled at a young age didn't make me a nice person like people expect, I was still a little judgemental asshole for a lot of my childhood. However, because I was disabled, I had to travel a lot, initially because I needed medical treatment that my local hospital wasn't equip to provide, and later, because I started competing in disability sports. because of both of those things, I met people I never would have otherwise who made me reconsider what I'd been taught on a wide range of subjects, and made me question where those beliefs had come from in the first place. When I say my disability played a part in who I became, it wasn't because my disability itself change me, but it helped me meet people who were positive influences on me and my life. but when creatives make characters who experience arcs like this, they ignore this, again, defaulting to the "this was a bad thing that just put all my other problems into perspective" reasoning.

Some iterations of this trope also use disability as a kind of "karmic punishment" where the disability is portrayed as a rightfully deserved punishment for an evil character's deeds - usually something relating to the disability they acquired but not always. An example might look like an evil tyrant who punishes the rebels they captured by cutting off their hands. Eventually, this catches up with him, maybe the friend or a child of one of the rebels is able to capture the tyrant and cuts his hands off as payback so that he gets a taste of his own medicine, a taste of the suffering he imposed on others. Now facing at least one of the same realities of the people he subjugated, he realises the error of his ways. With some pressure from the main characters, he has a change of heart and surrenders himself, steps down to let someone else take his place, or perhaps he decides to start changing policies to be more in-line with these new morals until some other character usurps him, becoming an even bigger threat than the previous former tyrant.

Once again, stories that use a disability like this are still portraying the disability as an overall inherently bad thing, but there's the added layer at play in this example. The thing is, there are a lot of people in real-life who actually believe disability is a punishment from God. I remember one time when I was over in the US, an older lady came and sat down on the seat beside me on the bus and started asking me about my disability and specifically, how I became disabled. This isn't an unusual interaction, it happens fairly regularly whenever I use public transport, but on this particular day, the conversation suddenly shifted when I told her I became disabled when I was very young. This woman, despite the bus-driver's best efforts to get her to stop, ended up lecturing me for an hour and a half (during which time I couldn't move due to how my wheelchair was held in place) about how my disability was punishment from God for my parent's sins. She then tried to convince me to attend her church, claiming they would be able to heal me. And the thing is, this isn't an uncommon experience.

A lot of disabled people are targeted by cults using this same method: they'll convince people their disabilities are a punishment, make them believe they deserved it, that they just weren't good enough, but don't worry, if you repent and come to our specific church we can heal you. There was even a case in Australia recently that uncovered a cult called Universal Medicine, who taught that disabled people were reincarnations of evil people, and that being disabled in this life was their punishment, as well as that parents who have disabled children were being punished for other sinful behaviours. They were found to be operating a disability care service named Fabic that was being paid for by the NDIS, a subsection of the Australian government funded healthcare system that specifically aids disabled Australians by paying for and subsidising treatments, technologies (such as mobility aids) and other services relating to their disability. Fabic was found to be stealing excessive amounts of funding from their disabled clients under the guise of therapies and carer services, but was not actually helping their clients at all. Whether it's just taking advantage of them to get their money, or actually using this logic as a justification to mistreat them, this mentality of "disability is a punishment" actually gets real disabled people hurt or worse, and so seeing it come up in media, even if there is no ill-intent, can be very distressing and uncomfortable for disabled audiences.

So with all this being said, is the disabling change of heart a trope you should avoid in all it's forms and versions? No, but it does need to be handled with extreme care. I do think it should be avoided as a reason for a character becoming evil for the most part. If that really can't be avoided in your story though, at the very least, ensure that you foreshadow the change. Your happy little ray of sunshine, embodiment of sweetness and innocence type character probably isn't going to turn murderous and want revenge for an accident for example. A character who is likely to be driven to that kind of extreme of wanting revenge for their disability, so much so that they become a villain, probably already had at least a few traits that would predispose them to that line of thinking already, before becoming disabled. As for when it goes in the other direction, and you have a character becoming a good guy, avoid using the reasoning that "the disability put things into perspective for me". Instead, if you must use this version of the trope, use the character's new disability as the reason they encountered other people and situations that challenged their views, things they wouldn't have encountered otherwise. No matter the reason though, be very careful to avoid inspiration porn, and as always, try to find a sensitivity reader to give your story a once-over, just to make sure something didn't slip under your radar.

[Thumbnail ID: An illustrated image showing the same elf character twice. The picture of her on the left shows her laughing evilly, two tiny horns protruding through her brown hair. She is wearing a black dress and red shoes. On the right shows her in a yellow dress, sitting in a bright pink wheelchair with her head held eye and her eyes closed. The horns have been replaced with a glowing halo. In the centre is text that reads: "Disability Tropes: The disabling change of heart." /End ID]

#Writing disability with Cy Cyborg #Disability 101 #Long Post #Disability #Disabled #Disability Representation #Writing Disability #Writing #Writeblr #Authors #Creators #Writing Advice #Disabled Characters #Disability History #Language #On Writing #Disability in Media #Tropes #Disability Tropes #The Disabling change of heart

[faytelumos]

Rewrite My Line

Tagged for this one by @tildeathiwillwrite, and—

Oh gosh, it's an internal thought line! XD Before even touching this I can tell you it's going to be so much longer than the original!

---

my line:

He wandered about the city aimlessly, eventually stopping at one of the fountains and resting at a nearby bench. He stared at the splashing water almost desperately, trying to turn his mind to less depressing thoughts. It didn’t work.

rewritten as:

He wandered. He didn't know where he was going, where he wanted to be. Nowhere. Anywhere. As long as it wasn't here.

Eventually, he stopped at a fountain square. The air was cold where it blew off the mumbling stone. One of many in the park, the fountain muttered and grumbled, the water cycling endlessly in an illusion of permanence. He sat down on a bench to watch it, to distract his stupid mind from its stupid, depressing thoughts. Maybe he could go into a trance. Maybe he could find some kind of profound wisdom in the miracle of gravity made trivial by modern technology. Maybe he could just dunk his head in the basin and count all of the coins tossed in despite the signage, drowning the world out until he had to come up for air, choking and coughing.

He sighed and leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.

---

Gently as ever tagging @afoolandathief, @amethystpath-writes, @annakayy, @gummybugg, @kaatiba, @those-damn-snippets, @serenanymph, @surplus-of-sarcasm, @written-in-starlight, and anyone else who wants to play along!

Your line today is:

The leader stopped, and we each turned to take our places. There were moss-covered boards for us to kneel on, to save our knees from the hard, rocky ground. I knelt down, and when the leader motioned for us to get low, I leaned forward, placing my hands on the wet, gravelly ground, and rested my forehead on my fingers.

[again, I'm sorry if this is kinda long. @_@ You can cut pieces out, it's okay.]

@thelazywitchphotographer :D

#tag game #writeblr tag game #writeblr #writers on Tumblr #writing #🕸️ #I feel like half of my style is the length and detail in my internal monologues #show me a line from a character's thought process and I will show you that it can be turned into a whole-ass paragraph #(I hope it's alright because it's PREVELANT @_@) #thanks for the tag I'm so sorry I turned it into three paragraphs! XD

[matrixbearer2024]

Get Off My Screen Series Headcanons:

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates guys! Currently working on two interludes I'll be posting back to back later so for now- have some headcanons I have for both Vox and Reader! Btw, if you guys have scenarios you still want to see with Reader being alive- you can send those in! I'll try writing drabbles for them if ever.

Knowing Vox, he had snooped around your stuff and files when you were alive.

From sorting your files because of the haphazard arrangement-

To straight up just leaning everything he could about you.

He'd saved a few of your pictures over the time you both got to know each other better.

At the start, he was just curious and nonchalant.

Cuz I mean, he's talking with a living soul?

That's gotta be worth something right?

But in trying to get closer to manipulate you-

Vox ended up actually becoming your friend.

Your sassy and spitfire nature kept him interested, kind of like a game.

You didn't take his shit and neither did he with yours.

At first he thought you were just insufferably annoying and acted accordingly.

Then it would shift ever so slowly to him just expecting your antics.

Then him looking forward to them.

It was a ray of sunshine in his otherwise monotonous and frankly very depressing afterlife.

Also his tiny desktop pet in your computer?

That existed solely because he was irritated enough that you had the gall to download another digital companion.

Bring it up though and he'll just blow you off in flustered anger.

The internet search engines like Google, Firefox, bing- etc. were accessible to him on your gadgets, but not social media.

So he couldn't mess with your friends, which was why they didn't know about him even until your premature death.

Well, they do kinda know about him-

As that odd online friend of yours that you were always talking to or subconsciously about.

Similarly on Vox's end, despite his dumbass being terminally online-

He somehow ends up on his phone even more because of you.

Valentino is expectedly pissy about it.

Especially because Vox won't actually explain what's going on.

Over the months Vox got invested into your relationship-

His on-off with the pimp shifted into a more permanent off.

Like, at the start things would be practically the same-

But over time he'd sleep with Val less and less.

To the point he didn't let the moth touch him if he knew there were any sexual undertones.

Vox didn't see the point in partaking in something he didn't want to be in.

You on the other hand went through your fair share of crushes and blind dates.

Something that irked the overlord slightly, even if he didn't know why at the time.

His possessivenessprotectiveness only got worse after you both started talking via your TV.

He'd slightly wanted to have a proper conversation between you two that wasn't just texting.

Vox was also prone to blowing up your phone at random points in the day when he was bored.

Or when he saw you weren't giving him enough attention.

Wouldn't ever admit it but he likes being the center of your attention.

He's already got the eyes and ears of so many people with his shows and his media-

But you're like the one person he actually feels seen with.

It also helps that you don't let his bullshit fly.

You weren't ever scared of him despite the guy being a demon overlord.

What was the worst he could do?

Corrupt your files and destroy your gadgets?

That stuff was replaceable, didn't matter much.

Vox has stuck his hand in your playlist a couple times when he's busy working.

Mostly because he didn't have the time to properly talk but inadvertently missed you.

That and he'd usually check your playlist to gauge your mood.

There was a couple of times he'd been utterly confused why you had such a depressing song as your most played when you seemed happy as all hell.

He just chalked it up to another one of your odd behaviors.

Calls you doll/dollface by default but traverses into other more endearing petnames as you guys get closer.

You think nothing of it, assuming it's just him playing up his charisma but Vox kind of wishes you would give it some thought.

After all, he doesn't do that normally to anyone.

Well, not unless he's trying to manipulate them or get in their pants.

But with you, it was genuine.

He'd absolutely buffer or glitch if you ever gave him a cute petname though.

It's why you simply stick to just giving him names that made fun of his odd features.

Samsung, flatscreen, TV man-

He's gotten used to it.

But jokingly call him babe or dear and he will die.

Vox also loves your eyes, it was straight up just so easy to read you just by meeting your gaze.

Can and will get lost in his thoughts looking at you but often catches himself in time to stop.

Has kind of deluded himself into the 'just friends' mentality.

Mostly out of his hesitance and unwillingness to accept he'd truly and totally fallen for you.

Vox doesn't remember the last time he felt genuine love for someone and that scares the socks off him-

You on the other hand just legitimately have no idea your attraction to the guy alreardy borders on romantic.

Quite literally everyone can see it aside from you two.

When you get down to hell, Vox actually has to adjust to the fact you're down there-

Even if it's just for a really stupid reason-

He's just the slightest bit relieved you hadn't gone to heaven where he wouldn't be able to reach you anymore.

It's a selfish reason, but Vox is inherently a selfish person so it doesn't bother him too badly.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox #get off my screen series #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox hazbin #vox hazbin hotel

[thatmooncake]

Obsessed with how Sun fits so much of himself into such a tiny space.

I mean first of all, literally.

He’s gonna have to surgically detach his rays from that slide.

And then we have his living space, the Superstar daycare. Big at first but when it’s the only place you can seem to access while others get free roam of half the building or even get to go outside of it? TINY. The outside world is unfathomably HUGE in comparison. And everyone he comes into contact with has basically seen so much more of it than he has. And that must feel so impressive to him but at the same time so strange and …maybe somewhat limiting? Like no matter how hard he tries to relate or understand from his little corner, others have experienced things firsthand that he probably never has. Things he’s read to kids in storybooks and sang songs about but never seen up close.

And we know that in some sense he likes things to be just so. The barrels are aligned. The lights stay on. That’s the only way he feels safe. So I imagine his own limited perspective when he comes face to face with people from the outside world feels kind of scary to him in a way.

And despite the daycare being his domain, people encroach upon his space without warning, and he plays along. All of a sudden there are people and he must deal with them accordingly and he must act in a certain way no matter how he feels about it and how much stress he’s put under (for example, continuing on with playtime despite the whole situation with Moon, perhaps because he has to, or he wants to, or he has nothing else - maybe all of the above).

^ Look at his little room! It makes me sad. I don’t know if Moon ripped up all the bots that are scattered over the floor or if Sun did or if someone else did but the fact is the place looks so depressing compared to most of the Glamrocks’ rooms it’s painful. Here we have two of the most neglected robots in the pizzaplex and they carry on like that doesn’t matter, but we know Sun knows that something is very wrong so even if this is the norm for him and even if he’s used to it, the more broken bits and pieces he encounters the more it must be killing him because every day when he’s done entertaining the kids or pretending someone’s going to show up that day (depending on if the daycare is closed or not) he goes back to a permanent reminder of just how messed up things have become.

And he seems SO HAPPY to see a stranger from outside of that little room. No matter how you look at that, it’s pretty sad. Is he faking his enthusiasm? What a frustrating and stressful situation that must be to be at the beck and call of someone you don’t genuinely want to be around and act like you’re their new best friend. Is he actually excited? What a stressful situation that must be too, only for any semblance of control you had to be abruptly torn from you as you’re forced to switch when the lights go out, clearly horrified by what’s going to happen all the while because you know it won’t be good for anyone.

Does it hurt when he switches? I’m fascinated by Sun’s relationship with Moon. It’s played in so many interesting ways by the fandom. Are they two separate people? Are they like roommates who share a body? Are they two aspects of the same AI? They’re so versatile and I love it. I love all the takes there are on their personalities. Sun? Silly, goofy, playful, ray of sunshine, bundle of nerves, parental, fiery, bossy, strict, the embodiment of anxiety, and so on. Moon? Prankster, gremlin, sleepy, calm, collected, grumpy, silly, catlike, etc. I love it when they get along and I love it when they don’t. I have so many feelings about them both and it’s less that I want to know the truth about them (if there is such a thing) and more I just like exploring every avenue because they’re just really fun and fascinating characters.

And THAT SYMBOLISM. Wow. The sun and moon themes give you so much to play around with. So many metaphors and so many things you can plaster the surfaces of your house or the background of your phone with that make you think of them. The moon’s phases. The way the sun sets earlier in the winter. Would Sun get tired more easily in the winter? Does Moon have a blue moon phase that makes him feel down at the drop of a hat? Because same, guys, same.

Not getting over these guys any time soon I guess.

#fablespeaks #sundrop #just a ramble #I really like them ok #fablethoughts

[ugh-yoongi]

hiiiii my love, can't wait to torture bee for her birthday (because yoongi hasn't done enough of that). little on the nose, but can i request domestic yoongi celebrating a partner's birthday? i just think he'd be really sweet & thoughtful with it

love u, thank u <3

hello my beloved! thank u for the request. please excuse the tooth-rotting fluff here, but i had to make it extra soft for our resident acts of service king. <3

i hope this helps our collective hobi depression just a tiny bit :')

yours to keep

pairing: yoongi x gn!reader genre: established relationship au; fluff warnings: domestic soft yoongi. may cause delusions. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 569 listen to: by your side by sade

[the night before, 7:30pm]

Yoongi waits until you’re out of the house.

Friday night, dragged to your favorite restaurant by your group of closest friends. Jimin sent along with Yoongi’s credit card and a mission. Tonight, he’s a turncoat: tasked with making sure you have a good time, but also ensuring you stay out long enough for Yoongi to cross every task off his to-do list. And, as Jimin had appeared at the door to escort you, dressed impeccably as always, nearly glittering beneath the shitty lighting in your kitchen, you’d been none the wiser.

There’d been a sly smirk thrown over his shoulder and the discreet passage of a sleek, black card. A kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth, a promise to see you later, and then silence.

Now he can get to work.

[11:59pm]

“I had no idea thirty would come with so many new aches and pains.”

Yoongi laughs something soft and breathy. Thinks it’s kind of silly that he always reacts to you this way: endlessly endeared, edges permanently eroded. He takes in the sight of you—skin still dewy from your shower, those expensive eye patches you love stuck beneath your tired gaze. Wonders what kind of crossroads deal he must’ve shook on to wind up here.

Twenty-four seconds until midnight. Not that he’s counting, but he wants to get it right. Wants to see the brief glimpse of confusion before your face settles and that brilliant smile shines through. Just enough time to make it to the kitchen and dig through the junk drawer. Enough time to pad back down the hallway and appear in the doorway of the bedroom.

“What’s that?” you ask, and there’s the confusion. The soft knit of your eyebrows, small downturn of your mouth.

Yoongi doesn’t answer. Just places one knee on the bed, lets it dimple under his weight. Pulls the lighter out of his pocket just as the clock strikes midnight and lights the stupid 3 candle he’d also tasked Jimin with. “Happy birthday, baby. Make a wish.”

You close your eyes and blow.

Whatever you wish for, Yoongi hopes it sounds a lot like forever.

[the day of, 9am]

He lets you sleep in.

Busies himself with the fruit tray and the coffee machine. Trims the stems of the flowers, makes sure the water in the vase is cold. Arranges them so they look more purposeful and less thrown-together. Meticulously sticks thirty spiral candles into the cake and wonders how he’s going to light them all before they start melting. Sighs and decides to do it anyway.

And then there’s the sound of feet on hardwood and he turns, his smile involuntary when you come into frame. “Morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm. What’re you doing?”

You wrap your arms around him from behind. Place a kiss between his shoulders. Yoongi places a hand over yours and squeezes. Says, “Lighting your birthday candles.”

“That’s a lot of candles,” comes your response, but the warmth in it is palpable. He can feel your smile. “Did you make the cake?”

He nods. Shrieks when you pinch playfully at his waist and call him a traitor.

Thinks he’d do much worse if it made you happy.

[6:45pm]

Yoongi clears the dishes from the table. Stacks them in a pile next to the sink.

Pats his pocket, makes sure it’s still there.

It is.

#beeday drabbles #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi imagine #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts drabble #jewel answers #jewel writes

[wannab-urs]

Scar Tissue

Pairing: Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: Violent devotion OR You and Dave try to figure out how to take care of each other

Warnings: explicit description of injuries (in the healing process), wound care, mild body horror maybe, intentionally causing pain in a not explicitly sexual way, way more dialogue than previous installments, soft/vulnerable/sweet smut, reader’s daily routine is described and really similar to mine so be nice i have depression, aggressive dental hygiene, blood, one pet name, spitting, pinning, choking, biting, scratching, overstimulation, oral f!receiving, unprotected piv + creampie x2 (do better), love as consumption, love as violence, care as violence? No use of y/n. WC: ~2.7k

A/N: I keep coming back to these two. They won’t get out of my head. Huge thank you to @beskarandblasters, @idolatrybarbie, and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for listening to me talk about this fic near constantly. Extra huge thank you to @atinylittlepain who honestly deserves co-writing credit. She helped me flesh this out and figure out where I wanted to go with these two and even provided ideas for some key scenes. I love you, man, my dearest Gin Twin. This is basically a look at how reader and Dave try to care for each other even though neither of them quite know how. Gin called it “two animals try to domesticate each other with their claws,” and that feels apt.

Dave York Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

He hasn’t left your bed unless he had to, much less your apartment. It’s been days and days and he hasn’t said a word. Quiet, usually sleeping. It’s the first time he’s ever stayed more than a night. First time he’s ever let you touch him in a way that isn’t violent or hungry. It’s exploratory. Strange that the first time you get to really look at him he’s been forever changed. Permanently marked. Like the cavernous hole inside him has physically manifested there on his face.

You unwrap the bandage from his head. Is there a healing process for this kind of thing? There will be no knitting together of flesh, no scabbing over, no scar. Just the absence of something that used to be there. You drag your thumbs over the scruff forming on his jaw, another first. Never seen him unkempt, always in a button down and slacks or tailored jeans and a perfectly fitting t-shirt. Never seen his hair grow too long. Never seen a lot of him. 

You trace the curve of his nose, the plushness of his lips, back up to the divot between his brows that doesn’t go away even when he sleeps. You run your thumbs over his eyelids, one stretched taut over his closed eye and one hanging half open, doesn’t need to close that one to be unseeing. To not have to watch the disgust he knows will flicker over your features. 

You dip your thumb into his eye socket, touching something no one has ever touched before – except, you guess, for the man who did this to him. You hold your thumb there for a moment, and he doesn’t jerk away from you. Hasn’t rejected a single one of your touches in days. Hasn’t really responded to anything at all. Slow hissing sighs and deep inhales, no words, no flinching. 

His eye flutters open when you return to stroking his cheek bones with both thumbs. He does not find a look of disgust on your face. Your mouth hangs slightly open, your breaths coming out shallow, and your eyes are full of something like curiosity. Maybe even adoration. He closes his eye again. Can’t bear to be looked at with anything even bordering on love. 

You remove the bandage from his ribs. The stitches will need to be removed soon, just starting to scab over. The flesh around his wound is bruised deep, dark purple with tinges of green and yellow. Partially from the initial injury and partially from where you drove your knee into him. You think you may have cracked a rib with the force of it. 

Before you can really think twice about it, you dig your thumb in between his ribs. Right over the heart of the hurt. He grabs your wrist and twists until you fall to the side trying to keep it from being wrenched too far. And he’s on top of you again. And there is a fire in his eye and his teeth are bared at you and finally you think. Finally here is the thing you have been so desperate for. A reaction. A sign that he can feel you. That he knows you are there. That he gives a shit how you touch him. 

But he doesn’t rip you apart like he usually would. Like you’d hoped he might. He drops his forehead to yours and sighs the deepest world weary sigh you may have ever heard and he rolls back off of you. And you think he’s going to go back to his silence. Back to nearly ignoring you. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” he says.

“How to do what?”

“This. Being cared for.” 

“I don’t know how to do this either.” 

“How to do what?” 

“Care for someone.” 

You kiss him then. Soft, slow, sweet. No ripping claws, no gnashing teeth, no snarling growls, no closed fists or stinging palms. You savor him. Lick into his mouth and taste his tongue with no attempt to swallow it down, to draw him inside your mouth and consume him. You climb atop him without breaking the kiss, bare thighs settling along the line of his torso. He pushes his sweatpants down his hips and within seconds he is buried deep inside you. 

You roll your hips against his, one hand propped on the bed beside him and the other fisted in his overgrown hair. Your lips finally part, but you keep your forehead pressed to his, stare into his eye as you move. God he’s so fucking beautiful. His hands settle on your hips, guiding you back and forth along his length, but there is no urgency, no hard press of bruises into your skin and no jerking of his hips to meet yours. 

Your brow furrows and your eyelids start fluttering and he knows you are close, knows you only need a little more to push you over the edge. He slips his thumb over your clit, the barest brush, and feels you clench tight around him. He presses down firmly, letting the roll of your hips do most of the work, and then you are coming, clenching and unclenching around him in such an exquisite way. He pulls you fully down onto him, thrusts into your wet heat a few more times and comes deep inside you with a gasp like the wind was punched out of him. 

You fall asleep like that, tangled in each other. 

He spends a couple days watching your routines. Something a bit voyeuristic about it. He doesn’t usually comment or participate. It’s almost as if he isn’t there. 

You wake up in the morning and stare at the ceiling for a while, mentally preparing, he supposes. You eventually drag your laptop off the side table and sign into work for the day. You always pee during the first break in the flow of emails, leaving the door open like you normally would, like he isn’t there.

You climb back into bed and work a while longer before heading to the kitchen to grab a bag of chips or leftover takeout and a glass of tea. You bring it back to the bed and eat while you watch youtube videos or read on your phone, usually leaving the dishes and trash on your side table until later. 

He usually takes a quick shower while you eat. He closes the door so he doesn’t disturb you. Uses your body wash and your shampoo to clean himself. Movements slow and sore in a way he tries not to let you see, becoming less so everyday. 

He stares at himself in the mirror. Trying to get used to his new face. Nothing looks quite right anymore, though he supposes that makes sense. Seeing it all through one eye now. He dresses, brushes his teeth, uses one of your silly little floss picks since you don’t have real floss. He shaves, finally. And it helps a little. Makes him feel a little more like himself in the mirror, though his hair is too long. 

You shower in mid afternoon, when you can afford to be away from your computer a bit longer. He can see your shower from his place in your bed. You don’t bother to close the door. You strip bare and toss your clothes in the overflowing hamper. 

Sometimes you wash your hair, but today you don’t. You use a loofah that has certainly seen better days to scrub your body. You run a razor over your armpits. You squeeze face wash onto your palm, rub your hands together, wash your face under the spray of the shower. 

You get out and wrap a towel around your hair, use another to quickly dry your body. You throw on a big tshirt and a pair of panties and move to get right back in the bed. 

“Brush your teeth,” he calls just as you step out of the bathroom. You grumble under your breath and do as he says. 

“Did you floss?” He knows you didn’t. 

“No.” You flop back onto the bed, seemingly exhausted by the process of maintaining your body. 

“Go floss your teeth.” 

“No. You go floss your fucking teeth.” 

Dave gets out of bed and you think he is going to be petty. You think he is going to floss his teeth. He goes into the bathroom and grabs the bag of floss picks. He returns to the edge of the bed and tosses the bag into your lap.

“Floss your fucking teeth.” 

“Why do you even give a shit?” He does not know why he gives a shit. He just does. 

“If you don’t do it, I’ll do it for you.” It does not sound like an offer to help. It sounds like a threat. You throw the bag of floss picks on the floor, several of them spilling out and skittering across the hardwood. Dave’s face darkens. He retrieves the floss picks, tosses the bag onto the bed. And then he is on you, your hands pinned above your head and his thighs trapping your torso. 

You twist and buck, letting out a near feral growl. You try to headbutt him and he dodges it, but loosens his grip on your wrists. You launch yourself at him, trying to use his flinch to knock him off of you. He grabs your shoulders and wrenches you back down, settling his knees on your armpits to keep you there. 

“Fuck you.” Oh you are pissed. How dare he make you do anything. 

“Sit still.” He grabs your jaw in his right hand, digging his fingers in where it hinges until you’re forced to open your mouth. Your frustrated scream is garbled. You try to close your mouth and only succeed in biting down on your own cheeks. He takes a floss pick in the fingers of his left hand. 

The gentleness with which he flosses your teeth for you is at such stark contrast with the violence of his grip on your jaw. Despite this, you still taste blood. You close your eyes in shame. Hot tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. Dave finishes, lets go of your face, strokes his thumbs through your tear tracks. 

“Look at me.”

You open your eyes, staring defiantly at the ceiling, and your lip trembles with the effort of containing your breakdown. 

“Honey, look at me. Please?” Your eyes snap to his then. He’s never called you that, or anything really. “Why are you crying?” He couldn’t have hurt you. He’d been careful, so careful, not to hurt you. So different from his usual touches. He eases his knees off of you, but stays straddling you, holding your face in his hands. 

You close your eyes again, squeeze them shut as if it will keep him from seeing you. “Embarrassed.” You mumble it, so quiet he wouldn’t be able to hear it if he wasn’t so close. He gets it then, but he isn’t sure what to do. What do you say when you have embarrassed someone without meaning to, when you do not think they have any reason at all to be embarrassed?

He kisses you. Soft at first and then hard in the way it always is. But also not in the way it always is. He tries to tell you, with this kiss, that he simply wants to care for you. That he does not know how, the same way you do not know how. That you are both trying. 

You bite his lip hard enough to draw blood. Blood for blood, you think. He takes your hands in his again and holds them above your head, shifting both your wrists into one hand. He wraps his other hand around your jaw like before, dragging your mouth open. He spits onto your tongue, watches it drip down to the back of your throat. 

“Swallow,” he commands it, but does not release your jaw. You swallow his spit with your mouth open, nearly choking with the effort. His fingers slide down and latch around your throat. Your eyes flutter shut and you buck your hips, chasing friction. He looks down at you in awe. Your tear soaked face. Your wet hair. Your spit and blood soaked lips. 

“Gorgeous,” he whispers. And that is a new name too. He releases your hands and slips down your body, pulls your panties off and tosses them into the floor. You don’t move your hands from where he had them pinned down, but you crane your neck to watch him strip bare. 

You think he is gorgeous too. Body scarred and mottled blue and yellow and green. Marked with you as much as anything else. Mine, you think. You have made him yours. Others may have had some other version of David York, but this one is yours and you will not let him go without making sure it is clear he was yours once. 

He settles between your thighs and pins your hips down with a forearm. He thrusts two fingers of his other hand inside you. You cry out and grind into them, hands immediately flying to his hair. He drops his mouth to your clit, sucks it between his teeth and bites down. You pull his hair hard, but he only doubles down. Fucking you with his fingers and rolling your clit between his teeth. 

You can’t do anything but take it with the way he has you pinned down. You claw at his shoulder, the nape of his neck, try to push his head away, but he doesn’t stop. And then you see white, coming with a shudder as your ears fill with a high pitched ringing. 

Before you can come down, he’s thrusting himself inside you. He sits back on his heels and wraps his arms around your thighs, using them to pull you onto his cock with every thrust. You close your eyes at the overwhelming, overstimulating pleasure. 

“Look at me,” he roars. He won’t let you hide from him. He locks his eye with yours as he fucks you, jaw set in a hard line. You reach for him and he obliges, leaning over you and folding you nearly in half with the motion. 

You wrap your arms around him and dig your nails into his shoulder blades. You can feel his back muscles shifting with every thrust. If you dig your fingers in deep enough maybe you could watch the way his muscles work beneath that expanse of golden skin. 

His eye bores into your left one and he imagines falling inside it, falling inside of you and staying there forever. Safe and cared for in a way he has not ever known and isn’t sure he ever will. He could stay inside you forever. You are so warm and wet and tight. A space seemingly carved out for him to fill. 

He dips his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth, rolls the bud between his teeth. He drags his lips back up to your throat. Presses his lips to your pulse. He can feel your heartbeat here. Could dig his teeth in and feel all that warm and wet inside you gush over his tongue. Fuck he wants all of you. Every bit of you. An endless cycle of wanting to consume you and be consumed by you that makes his head spin. 

Your hands find the back of his head and push him deeper into the crook of your neck. He sucks the skin over your jugular between his teeth and bites down hard. Your whole body seizes and spasms around him, coming as soon as the points of his teeth sink into your skin and he follows you instantly, drawn out by the way you shout his name. 

He rolls off of you and pulls you against him, still craving the heat of your skin against his. He draws your thigh over his legs, wraps his arm around your body, buries his face in your hair. 

“Do you wanna take a shower with me?” Despite both of you showering earlier, a sheen of sweat and blood and saliva coats you both. He pulls you impossibly closer to him. 

“Yeah, honey. In a minute.” 

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

Tagging people from the last one! Let me know if you'd like to be taken off!

@pr0ximamidnight @gasolinerainbowpuddles @bonezone44 @catchallfangirl @heareball @cool-iguana @youmeand5bucks @morallyinept @janaispunk @ireallyreallylikeyourwriting @sin-djarin @toxicanonymity @rootytootyvoodooty @blackfemalenerd @axshadows @heavennumber2 @pedrostories @theywhowriteandknowthings @anavatazes @missladym1981 @always-andromeda

#Dave York #Dave York fics #Dave York fanfiction #Dave York x reader #Dave York x f!reader #Dave York x you #Equalizer 2 #Equalizer 2 fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu

[queerism1969]

What are some semi-harsh truths you have for people who are new to transitioning?

I don’t mean sharing depressing statistics that they’re likely already aware of. I mean things that might be difficult to internalize but are important to know for the most stable experience possible.

 Your transition will cause disappointment. Not of yourself, but of people you had hoped were better. Those are ‘them’ problems, not ‘you’ problems. You will most likely have to outgrow people.

Hormones helped with the emotional aspects of depression and anxiety, but you still have all the bad habits and thought patterns that are associated. It takes work to fully heal

Dysphoria does lessen overall but that can make some sources of it feel worse

You don't know what all your dysphorias are, or how strong they are. Dysphoria is a type of pain, and the brain is only able to perceive so much pain at a time. When you clear out the biggest problem, you'll be able to see the next. It may come as a hell of a surprise.

If you require a medical transition, SERIOUSLY DO YOUR RESEARCH ON SURGEONS. While there are some great surgeons out there, there are DEFINITELY bad ones too. There are extremely dangerous "medical providers" who falsely advertise their expertise. THOROUGHLY read the wiki page in /Transgender_Surgeries

There are a whole bunch of places you can't really go to anymore. And I don't just mean Russia or Saudi, I mean many suburbs, rural areas, or any neighborhoods that aren't already quite progressive.

Just because someone's trans doesn't mean they aren't transphobic, get to know people before you come out to them 

You will lose friends, some might be openly against it others might just drift away just be prepared to lose some of your friends not all but some.

Transition is not a cure-all for all your problems, it might help with something like depression and certainly dysphoria. But there are some problems that will still be there

Take lots of pictures even if you feel ugly. You'll want those later just as a boost to see how far you have come. 

For my trans-women friends, it is dangerous to be alone with a man who you don't know, even in public.

Carry pepper spray, carry a firearm, learn how to throw a punch, stay with your group, and never go home with a stranger.

Throwing other trans people under the bus, especially less "acceptable" or "palatable" trans people, in order to make cis people respect you is bullshit.

Do not be afraid to switch therapists and doctors if one doesn't feel right.

Most people don't know shit about being trans or how transitioning works. Get ready for the most disgustingly intrusive questions you can imagine.

Never read the comments. There's no point in getting into battles, I know you want to, but LGBT education is EXHAUSTING, people are hostile for no reason. They are scared of you and hate you because they don't know you. Remember: it doesn't have to be your job to educate people.

Trans people are a really easy target for hate politics because we strongly depend on other people (doctors who prescribe our meds, surgeons, government for name change stuff) and it's very easy to take them away from you. 

Cis people will tell you that you'll "regret transitioning" or that you're making a mistake because they cannot even comprehend something like dysphoria, their greatest fear is having their sex permanently altered, which would be dysphoric for them, and they think everyone else is like that.

#transgender #lgbtq community #lesbian #nonbinary #lgbt pride #lgbtqia #sapphic #nonbinary lesbian #gay girls #lgbtq #queer #transfem #trans girl #trans positivity #transfemme #trans #mtf #transexual #transgirl #trans woman #pre op mtf #mtf positivity #girlslikeus #mtf detrans kink #forced detrans #ftm detransition #detrans woman #detrans female #detransitioners #detransitioning

[weenwrites]

About the Scarlet Witch!Reader, imagine she heard the discussions from the Autobots about her chaos magic powers could lead to destructions and Reader will turn mad with power (which is completely the opposite, she's stable as she can be and kind and generous) and they should "keep an eye of her" in case she'll go crazy and in need to keep on lock her up, which made her feel more outcast from them as much she's outcast from society which depressed her more. One day, in a terrible battle between them and the Decepticons, she "sacrifice" to save them and everyone believe she died with it (but secretly gets away from them in complete isolation from everyone, both humans and Autbots, living in a farm or something), How Team Prime (Op, Ratchet, Ultra Magnus, Bee...your choice) will react of her death and their guilt ?

(P.S, you can add IF Team Prime's reactions IF they EVER heard that she's alive somewhere FAR away from them. would they want to reach her again or....?)

Optimus

Optimus treats them as he would any of the other humans, but he does keep a mental note of Ratchet's (and possibly the government's) concerns about them in mind. But so long as they don't do anything that goes against his morals—or just anything harmful in general, he won't see them as any threat.

When he witnesses them die, he goes beserk. He burns though vehicons faster than they can be deployed, and the Decepticons are forced to withdraw before they lose too many soldiers. Their death affects him like the rest of his team, but it's a bit less noticeable than the others. But when he learns they faked their death, he's... Confused, perplexed, upset—he feels a lot of things. He doesn't understand why they would fake their death, and of course he's upset that they did that in the first place. But that doesn't mean that he's not relieved to hear that they're alright.

While Optimus would like to talk to them, it's difficult for him to find the time to. But depending on whether or not they were someone who concerned the government, he may let agent Fowler know they're alive.

Ratchet

Ratchet's the one who primarily feels as if they're a threat here. He's seen just how twisted and corrupt one can become as a result of power—just look at Megatron for example. However, he doubts that someone as powerful as they are can be contained by any high-tech prison. They can only be contained by something that can rival their own power, which is something that neither the autobots or decepticons. However... They do seem mentally stable and in control of their own powers, so with time his concerns diminish.

But when it comes to their "death"... Even knowing that they're gone—permanently gone—he still feels as if something's off. He knows they're powerful, so surely something like that "sacrifice" wouldn't be enough to kill them. So when he discovers that they're actually alive, a whole surge of emotions rush through him. Anger, relief, confusion, betrayal, and sadness (to which he feels even more upset after learning the reason why they did this.)

Ratchet wouldn't seek them out, he's got mixed feelings about it, and he thinks that leaving them alone would be for the best, given the current situation (ahem, the war).

Bumblebee

Although they're really dangerous, Bumblebee doesn't treat them like they're a ticking time bomb. But of course he does understand that they could potentially become a threat to the team, the kids, and everyone else, and he keeps that in mind, but that doesn't affect how he treats them. He treats them like a normal person, albeit someone who's strong and can take care of themselves just fine—but still a normal person. And he'll continue to do this so long as they're both friends.

When he witnesses them die, he feels worse than distraught. It's clear that their death really got to him with the way his doorwings droop. He genuinely believes they're permanently gone, but the instant he learns they're actually alive he's... Got mixed feelings. On one hand he's really happy and relieved they're alive, and he wants to hug them, but on the other... They faked their death and they never said anything about it. They continued living their life even though they left so many people hurt by their death! He has no idea what he feels specifically, but one thing's for sure, he doesn't think he can forgive them for this. They'll still be friends—that is, if they'd want to be—but he can't forgive them for faking their death.

Bee wouldn't be sure on whether or not he should reach out. On one hand, they faked their death for a reason, perhaps he should just leave them alone? On the other hand he wants to talk about what they did. So, if he can find them, and if he has the time, he'd come by. But if they don't want to talk, he'll leave.

#tfp imagines #tfp headcanons #tfp x reader #tfp optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfp ratchet #ratchet x reader #tfp bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert #weenwrites

[macaroon-sapling]

Headcanons - Springtrap's Isolation ✷

You didn't think Springtrap just did nothing in that safe room for thirty whole years, did you? Nah.

☆☆☆

✧ For years, William Afton, now Springtrap withered away in the closed off storage room in one of the first Freddy Fazbear's Pizza locations. During that time he was not completely "inactive" and spent his thirty or so years locked away largely awake.

✧ Springtrap's favourite (and only, really) activities in locked isolation were repetitive and mind numbing. While the safe room still had electricity, he would play the three arcade games stored there over and over. He liked to beat his own high scores, which were listed under various variations of his name such as "William", "Will", "Afton", "Dave", and finally "Springtrap".

✧ Another frequent activity Springtrap did was watching and interacting with the rats and mice that had infiltrated the unused room through dilapidated vents and cracks in the walls. He would watch them scurry around, even briefly allowing them to chew on his moldy fur before snapping at them and scaring them off. Early on, he also attempted to eat a couple rats. He believed that he was miraculously alive (not quite the whole truth..), therefore he needed to eat. Of course, this did nothing for him and the rat's chewed up carcass just ended up falling through his decayed stomach lining. Springtrap decided to leave the rodents mostly alone after that. He even began to name them to entertain himself, assigning them personalities and keeping them as pseudo pets. Those names and personalities began to take the form of his past loved ones in the later years, calling them "Michael", "Elizabeth", "Clara", and notably "Henry". Sometimes he would find himself ranting and screaming (no, no one heard any of that, the walls of this room were built surprisingly thick) at these rats and mice in particular, venting his frustrations about the people they represented in his mind.

✧ But when he wasn't actively puttering around, messing with rats, and playing the same old arcade games, Springtrap just sat there. He sat up against the same wall his body had slumped against when he died (the blood splatter was still there after all), and he slept as much as a permanently awake zombie rabbit could sleep. This sleep was more like vivid daydreaming than anything else, and was often filled with depressing thoughts more than anything nice. He thought of his kids, he thought of his incomplete research, he thought of the horrific things he did to get himself here (no remorse was involved with that though, of course), but most of all he thought of Henry.

✧ Oh Henry.. how he missed him more than anything. Springtrap was still just as obsessed with his former business partner now as he was when he was still called William. His feelings were complicated now, but he still loved him. And as time went by and his mental state deteriorated, his feelings became less and less complicated and were more solidly focused on genuine love, persistent lust, and pure obsession with the man who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Springtrap had no idea of that anymore, though. He had intensely deluded himself into thinking his precious Henry was out there looking for him, missing him too. He was wrong.

✧ And as Springtrap sat there, he watched the rays of sunlight rise and set from out of the horribly thin cracks in the walls near the ceiling of his prison. He briefly tried keeping track of the days in the beginning. This lasted about a month. He quickly decided it was useless. It was.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf headcanons #william afton #springtrap #my headcanons #brief willry mention lol

[artiststarme]

I always see fics about Eddie hurting Steve but I never see any about Steve hurting Eddie. So here you go! I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments.

~*~*~*~

Eddie knew that Steve had good intentions and he knew that he was blowing things out of proportion. However, he was so sick of not having control over anything in his life that things were bound to blow up at some point. Between not graduating high school with the rest of his year, being put on house arrest for several months while waiting for his name to clear, and dealing with his life-altering injuries, Eddie was a miniscule way away from breaking down entirely. 

Unfortunately, Steve was the last crack that it took for his whole facade to shatter. 

Eddie didn’t have control over anything. He couldn’t make the townspeople believe his side of things or in his innocence. He couldn’t walk across the stage to pick up his diploma like he’d dreamed of doing for years. He couldn’t even breathe too deeply some days in fear of awakening a flare of chronic pain. 

What he could do though was keep a tidy trailer. He’d taken to organizing the fridge and cabinets in the kitchen in a way that only made sense to him. He’d color-coded his DnD notebooks and tapes in his room. Hell, he’d even organized Wayne’s remaining mug collection in order from most to least flattering colors. He had a system now in his home and it was quite literally the only thing keeping him together. 

So when Wayne dropped him off at home after a particularly grueling physical therapy session and found the kitchen reorganized, he might have lost it a little bit. And when he opened the fridge to find his travel cup of coffee missing, what other option did he have than to cry? He burst into loud, ugly sobs and melted to the floor. It wouldn’t help the pain in his scars when he tried to get back up but he needed to feel close to gravity again. 

Steve came running out of Eddie’s bedroom at the first cry and sunk to his knees beside him desperately. “Eddie, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Can you answer me?”

“Where’s my coffee? I had it on the door of the fridge but now it’s gone. Where is it?” He asked frantically. 

Steve just shook his head, “Eds, it was almost empty and it’s been there for days so I threw it away.”

There went his last shred of sanity. “I made it today! It was fine, you had no right to throw it away! That was the only thing I’ve been looking forward to! Fuck!”

“Eds, relax. There’s another coffee in there and you shouldn’t be drinking so much coffee anyways. The kitchen was really disorganized so I cleaned it up for you, I thought you’d be happy,” Steve said. 

Eddie just shook his head in response, tears still dripping from his face. “I’m the one that organized it! I have a fucking system, Steve! This is the one thing that I can control and you took it away! I asked you not to mess with anything, but you did it anyway.”

Steve just looked at him in confusion, “I just wanted to help-”

“Please leave, I can’t do this right now.” He needed to sob his emotions out in peace and then take a long, grieving nap. 

“Are we breaking up?” Steve whispered.

“No, I’m mad at you because you threw my coffee away and fucked up my system. I’ll call you later just… please leave for now. Please,” Eddie begged him. 

Steve shrugged, picked up his keys, and walked out the door. Then, Eddie was alone with a disastrously organized kitchen and a lack of coffee. They would talk this out later and establish boundaries so this never happened again. But for now, Eddie was alone with his depression, pain, and angst. With little else to do, he tucked his face into his knees and cried. 

Permanent tag list: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1

#My mom dumped the Dunkin coffee that I was saving in the fridge for tomorrow and I reached my limit #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #uncle wayne #misunderstandings

[thepsychewrites]

The Complexities of a Black Hole — Pt. Two

A Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Series

Summary: You and Bucky leave for Wakanda, only he doesn’t know you’ve tagged along.

Warnings: This series and my entire blog is 18+ ONLY. MINORS / AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. Frequent use of heavy and descriptive language. Mentions of sedation and anxiety drugs, brief/vague mention of a needle, brief mention of blood and violence, self deprecating thoughts, allusions to depression, angst, fluff, a tired and hangry Bucky (yes it needs a warning).

Word Count: 4K

A/N: GUESS WHAT TIME IT IS?? TCOABH TIME!! Yes, I’m aware I suck and this is a few days behind schedule BUT I’ve been adjusting to some new meds this week and I’ve been getting so much done (including prepping for my uni finals) that posting this was at the very back of my mind all week :,) BUT ITS HERE, and I’m excited for y’all to read this part <3 ENJOY BABES🫶🏼😚

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Wakanda.

Fifteen minutes ago you had never even heard of the place, but now the word rattled around in your brain, pestering you with each passing second.

Wakanda.

A concealed nation hidden deep between the vast mountain ranges and lush forests of eastern Africa, and home to the most scientifically advanced technologies the world had ever known. It was a place of serenity and hope, a glimpse into a glorious future. From what T’Challa, the man in the burgundy outfit, had said of it, Wakanda was a place that could heal even the most damaged of souls. A place of permanent renewal.

A place to start over.

They want to take Bucky to Wakanda.

Despite the method being meticulous and requiring careful execution, T’Challa described a way to rid Bucky’s head of the words that plagued him. The words that sent him on a rampage. The words that made him fight a war that could never be won.

There was just one stipulation.

Bucky would have to live in Wakanda for the time being.

T’Challa couldn’t give an estimate on the exact length of the stay, saying it might only take weeks, or if the treatment didn’t work as planned, possibly even months or as long as a year. There was an isolation period Bucky would have to endure first, the details of that part vaguely stated. A look crossed Steve’s face at the mention of it, somewhere between apprehension and uncertainty, but he would have to lock away his doubts for now. They’d have time to resurface if things went south.

You couldn’t bear the idea of going months without seeing Bucky, the thought alone making your stomach churn. He’s been your closest friend since joining the team… the person you’ve spent so much time with, shared so many memories with. It would be unbearable. You knew it would be for the best, Bucky needed help. But it didn’t make the idea any more tolerable.

To add onto that hurt — Bucky was refusing to see you. He had apparently been awake for a few hours now, only allowing Dr. Cho and Steve to be around him. It’s nothing to do with you, Steve said during one of the many times he came back to check up on you, he just needs time.

Now, standing a few yards away, Steve and T’Challa quietly discussed the process of moving Bucky to Wakanda. The less-than-subtle glances both men were sending to where you sat didn’t go unnoticed. You were sure they could feel the anxiety radiating from you, the wringing of your hands and the bounce of your legs giving it away completely. But each time they looked over at you it made that feeling grow tenfold. Were they talking about you? Were they getting annoyed at your incessant stare on their backs? Did they think you were eavesdropping?

Finally, the quick glances turned into full on eye contact from Steve, T’Challa patting his shoulder before swiftly departing, walking back toward the center of the Compound. Steve waited to speak until he sat down beside you, a comforting hand landing on your knee.

“He thinks this could really work.” Steve started, his focus trailing to your overly-bitten bottom lip. “But… there’s something else.”

You perked up at his words, brows knitted in confusion. “What is it?”

“T’Challa thinks it could be beneficial for Bucky to have a friend there with him. A familiar face.” Steve was treading lightly, unsure of how to ask a favor of this caliber. “Someone to help so he doesn’t get so… lonely.” He released a heavy sigh, looking right into your eyes. “When Bucky first got here… he followed me around like a lost puppy. Where I went, Bucky went. What I did, Bucky did. It took him weeks to finally feel safe enough to sleep in his own room. I don’t want him to feel abandoned again. And I would go, or have Sam go, but…”

“You have a lot going on here.” You finished for him, understanding where he was coming from. Steve was constantly needed, and even if he didn’t want to admit it, he was the glue to this team. If he were to leave to keep Bucky company, the sturdy structure he had built around this place would surely crumble.

Steve found both of your hands, pulling them into your lap and closing them in on his large ones. “I think you should go to Wakanda with him.” He finally blurted out. “T’Challa said his sister would be ecstatic to have someone so versed in astrophysics around. Plus, I think Bucky would much prefer to have you tag along than Sam or myself.”

His volume lowered to a whisper. “He seems to have grown pretty fond of you. I can’t remember a time I’ve ever seen Buck so… at ease around someone else.”

Mentally cursing at how right Steve was, you hoped he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks from his statement. It was evident there was another implicative remark lingering on his tongue, but he slowly closed his mouth before it could spring free.

Were the feelings you harbored so deep in your soul for one of your closest friends that obvious to everyone else? Maybe it was for the best that Steve stopped while he was ahead, because should he have let the words come to fruition, there’d be no hiding from the truth.

Because how could you blatantly deny the fact that you felt something more for Bucky? You’d walk to the edge of the universe and back for the man, so of course you’d stay with him in Wakanda. Time wasn’t a factor. Whether it took thirty days or thirty years, you’d go if asked. And this wasn’t something you were willing to pass up.

“You don’t think he’ll be mad if I come along? I mean… he isn’t really up to talking to me now. You know better than anyone how he gets about this stuff. Bucky’s always worried about people seeing him in a bad light, and I don’t want him to be upset with me.”

“Can I tell you a little secret?” Steve leaned in close as if he was relaying exclusive information. “Bucky could never be upset with you. You said it yourself, I know him better than most. So believe me when I say that he’d never hold anything against you.” His eyes caught yours in a sincere look. “You should go with him.”

You took a second to breathe, trying to digest all of this chaos at once. It was making your head spin, but it was obvious what your decision would be.

“When do we leave?”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Two hours later you left your bedroom, most of your belongings stuffed in three large suitcases and one duffel bag. You decided to leave behind most of your unnecessary trinkets and memorabilia, only bringing along the most important, top priority things… if a stuffed animal lion and your endless amount of journals counted as top priority. Finding your way to the hangar of the Compound, your stomach lurched at the reminder of events that occurred only hours prior. Visions of Bucky being dragged through, his head hanging down and blood dripping from his sides. It seemed like an absurd renaissance painting you’d see in the Louvre, taking your time to gasp and stare at its gruesomeness. Yet you were certain you would never be able to rid your mind of that memory.

Two gigantic aircrafts were stationed in the hangar, a woman standing outside of each, their heads shaved and their chins held high. Both were holding spears, a stoic expression on their face. Steve was talking to Sam outside the smaller of the two aircrafts, their conversation cutting off as you neared.

“Heard you were leavin’ too, Y/n.” Sam said as he wrapped his arms around you, swaying a bit as he held you close. He always gave the best hugs, besides Bucky of course, something you had realized very early on in your time with the team. “Wanted to see you off.” With a quick squeeze he let go, looking down at you with glossy eyes. The two of you had grown quite close in the last few months, so he wasn’t just losing Bucky for the time being, but you as well.

To quell your own tears, you playfully bumped his shoulder with your fist. “You better come and visit, Sammy. You know I can’t go that long without seeing your annoying face.”

That lightened the mood, both Sam and Steve laughing at your words. “I’ll come see you as soon as I’m allowed.” He assured.

The air seemed to grow thick as you looked at Steve, his head hanging low but his eyes trained on you. “You ready?”

Truthfully, no, you weren’t ready to leave your home behind. Sure, you had said your goodbyes to the rest of your friends and team earlier, and sure you had most of your things packed for this departure. But there never comes a time in life when you’re truly ready for anything, right?

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

With one hand on your back and his other reaching for the handle of your largest suitcase, he led you onto one of the jets, another woman stationed inside with her back to you. The craft was astonishingly advanced, fitted with a dark clean and sleek interior, making Stark’s quinjets look puny and outdated in comparison.

You could feel the soft humming of the jet rumbling beneath your shoes, the actual sound far too quiet to register in your ears. The inside was glowing with soft hues of orange and blue, strips of soft light wrapping around the center of the jet where plush seats stuck out. There was just enough light to see your way around, but not enough to strain your eyes. Dark wood paneling decorated the interior, carved out from a tree probably native to Wakanda, as you couldn’t place the grain elsewhere. The woman standing inside turned to you and introduced herself as Nakia, a friend of T’Challa’s. You could tell she was curious, her eyes studying you intensely. Her head was covered in a green print scarf, a beaded necklace holding the same shades of emerald laying flat against the bottom of her neck. She, along with the woman who stood guard outside, Okoye, as she was soon introduced, would be the ones taking you to Wakanda.

Okoye smelled of orchids, her presence warm and comforting. Tattoos marked her shaved scalp, the dark lines curving over her head in an intricate pattern. You quickly learned she was the general for Wakanda’s elite group of royal warrior guards, the Dora Milaje, her status most likely portrayed within the tattoo. She wore numerous gold bands around her neck, the precious metal dripping down further in platings that covered her shoulders and arms. They spoke briefly of their home, their words continuing to fill you with hope, your body feeling lighter and lighter by the second.

Steve said a quick goodbye, as he would be leaving on the other aircraft with a sedated Bucky, T’Challa, and another royal guard. The flight to Wakanda would only take a few hours, Nakia relayed, as the jet was apparently able to travel at incredibly high speeds. You pondered over the logistics, but there were many things in life that existed and were plausible far beyond your comprehension, so you ultimately let that thought fade out as you took a seat near the cockpit.

“So your friend,” Nakia broke the short bout of silence as Okoye got comfortable in the pilot chair, the jet slowly starting to move forward. “How long have you known him?” She didn’t have to name Bucky for you to know that’s who she was referring to.

“About eight months now. Kinda seems like a lifetime, though.” You laughed softly, wringing your hands together as they sat tense in your lap. You wished more than anything you could see him right about now, knowing he was freaking out internally about this whole fiasco. Bucky hated when everyone’s attention was turned on him, even the good kind of attention. He always felt scrutinized under people’s heavy glares, and despite being over six feet tall and possessing a body close to that of Hercules, he had become a master at making himself look small and non-threatening during times like this. But just as a fully grown saint bernard cannot shrink to the size of a chihuahua, Bucky could only do so much to hide himself away from the judgment the world pressed upon him.

“He must mean a great deal to you if you’re coming all the way to Wakanda for him.” Nakia remarked. From your peripheral, you noticed Okoye shaking her head at Nakia’s words. She was a curious woman indeed.

But, as much as you wanted to deny what she was insinuating, you couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “He’s one of my best friends. I couldn’t not come, you know? Bucky has a long road ahead of him, and I want to be there to help however I can.”

“You are a good friend. I am sure he will be thankful that you are accompanying him.” Okoye interjected, her gaze steady and facing the open sky. She let her words settle before speaking again. “We will reach home by nightfall. Try to get some sleep, both of you.”

Okoye was right. You were creeping on two days with no sleep, a drowsiness deeply settled in your bones from the lack of shut eye. Watching Nakia as she laid out across the seats opposite of you, you sent her a tight lipped smile before resting your head against the wall. You bent your knees close to your chest, your hands sandwiched between, and let the promises of Wakanda lull you to sleep.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

There was a cruelness that Bucky’s mind possessed, and recently its main goal was to taunt him at every turn.

He was the elephant in the room. The burden those around him had to help carry. The man that deserves no sympathy.

So why did they want to help him now? After he relapsed again and nearly tore his two friends to shreds? His arm was gone, the appendage he had come to resent – a weapon given to him, revealed as if it were a birthday gift… as if it were something he should be thankful for. Bucky was only thankful when it was forcefully ripped from his shoulder, the pain amounting to nothing compared to the relief that filled him when he looked over to see it dangling in Steve’s hands. Even if that relief was short-lived.

Now all he could feel was dread.

His body was feather-light, having been pumped with anxiety medication to keep his restlessness at bay. On the other hand, his eyes were practically nailed shut, the meds forcing him to sleep off the events of the last thirty six hours.

But even as he floated in and out of reality and a dark, dreamless state, the dread that clung to his limbs weighed him down. He was basically a brick being cemented into place. Bucky didn’t even realize that the stealthy aircraft carrying him like precious exotic cargo to Wakanda had landed, too drugged out to feel more than a distant beating of what he could only assume was his half-dead heart.

It was only when he heard the familiar rumble of Steve’s voice did he slightly perk up from his hunched over state.

“Buck? Buck…” Steve slowly called for the umpteenth time, his arm stretched out and gently patting Bucky’s back. “Bucky, we’re here.”

A pinhole of white flooded into Bucky’s pupils, the dim lighting of the jet's interior still too much for Bucky to adjust to. His hand automatically attempted to shield the source, but the pinhole only grew wider. It took a second, but once it clicked that Bucky was trying to block the light with his left hand and not his still-in-tact right, his face burned with embarrassment. Too groggy from the drugs, he opted to give up, blindly relying on Steve to help him sit upright and stand, the entirety of his weight pushed into Steve’s side as they stumbled off the aircraft.

Wakandan air smelled sweet in the spring. Like the runny nectar of a honeysuckle blossom, it was almost tangible, the sweetness. It’s the first thing Bucky noticed as his feet hit flat, solid ground. Socks — they had literally left Bucky in only a thick pair of black wool socks, his toes digging into the smooth, frictionless floor below him to stabilize his movements. A babbling river rushed by somewhere in the far distance, his senses heightened as his eyes were still slammed shut.

In a few seconds Bucky had gone from leaning against Steve to sitting down in a cushioned chair, his body no longer weighing heavy on his bones. He didn’t like this, incoherently muttering, “I can walk,” as his head lulled to the side before he jerked it upright. “Stop it — Steve stop, m’fine… lemme walk.” Bucky snapped impatiently, knowing it was Steve pushing him from behind in whatever wheelchair they shoved him in. Bucky thought he had protested a bit more, but he could feel his teeth scraping against one another as he grinded them together in his mouth while they entered an elevator of some sort.

Steve was talking to someone in the elevator, probably T’Challa, Bucky thought, as his hearing was still muddled and his brain foggy. He had quickly ditched the attempt to open his eyes fully, settling for the dull shadows he could see behind his eyelids instead.

At the faint ding of an elevator bell, some commotion started, a few people came to ask Steve mindless questions, and the sterile smell of a laboratory invaded Bucky’s nose. He didn’t notice being moved from the wheelchair, nor being laid in an observation bed of some sort. At one point he swore he felt a few pricks and prods across his forearm and hand, but he gave it little thought as he swam in and out of consciousness.

This time the sleep he fell into wasn’t dark and desolate like before. He wasn’t floating in empty space. This time he heard a voice soothing his nerves, a sweet voice of something familiar. A voice that belonged to an angel, perhaps, something gentle and reassuring, cooing at him from nearby. An image was conjured before him, something pulled right from his memories, as he had been there before. He wasn’t alone in some tiny laboratory bed, no. Bucky was back in your room at the Compound, the flickering scenes of The Princess Bride playing on in the back as you laid against his side, commanding his attention whether you realized it or not. Never once in the last seventy years had Bucky dreamt of something so pleasant, so calm. He wanted to stay here forever, in your room, on top of your bedsheets, right next to you. So, he stayed. Bucky stayed in that memory for as long as he could hold onto it.

When he finally woke a few hours later, Bucky swore he could smell your perfume as if it was lingering in the air around him still.

“Morning pal.” Bucky heard from outside the room he was in.

He quickly sat up at the sound of Steve’s voice, carefully scanning around the room and taking in his surroundings.

Plain white walls. A full size bed pushed into the corner where he currently laid, a blue and red quilted blanket strewn overtop of him. A door leading to a small bathroom in the suite was to his right. A quaint desk was pushed against the wall opposite his bed, a stack of books, a leather bound journal, some stationary, boxes of puzzles, a small Philco tabletop radio, and a lamp organized on it. One window jutting out next to the bed directed Bucky to a stunning view of the Wakandan landscape and the nature that lies beyond, and one long rectangular window was placed in the wall that faced the hallway of the laboratory. One door that led out was directly in front of the bed a few feet away, a small window carved near its top and an opening at its bottom.

Food, Bucky thought, That’s what it’s for. His stomach rumbled at the reminder of the calories he had not eaten in God knows how long.

Bucky glanced back toward the faint voice, finally seeing Steve standing stoic outside the window near the door, his hands shoved in the tight pockets of his jeans. “How are you feeling?” Steve asked, his expression never wavering.

“Tired.” Bucky answered, a short truth being all he could manage for the time being. He tried to gather himself a little more, but Steve caught his attention once again.

“Are you hungry?”

Bucky’s head picked up, his eyes set on Steve’s. “Starving.” He called. Bucky watched as Steve reached down, light pouring in from the opening at the bottom of his door as a tray of food slid across the floor toward the bed. Bucky perked up at once, throwing the quit to the side as he stood up for the first time in hours. He swayed slightly, gaining some stability as the smell of the food penetrated his senses. He grabbed the tray from the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, inspecting it.

A large, still sizzling steak was cut into bite sized pieces, paired with steaming mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables that gathered along the side of the plate. Also on the tray was a cup of applesauce, two oranges, and a bottle of water. Bucky promptly dug in, using the plastic utensils to shovel the food in his mouth. Through his bites he kept glancing at Steve, waiting for something else to come from the man. But, being as considerate as he was, Steve stood in silence and waited for Bucky to finish his meal.

Bucky chewed down the last of the green veggies, sipping his water quickly before wiping his lips off with the sleeve of his shirt. “So, what’s my sentence?” He asked jokingly, but still curious to how long they wanted to keep him locked away in this room to observe him.

“Fourteen days, Buck. Try to think of it as a break… a short vacation if you will.” Steve tried to reason.

“Oh, yeah. All the best vacations are spent locked indoors being watched like a hawk twenty-four-seven for two weeks straight.” Bucky huffed, turning his head to gaze outside the window. “But at least I got the best view in town.” The jungle outside vibrated with life, a low mist flowing through the tall trees, large soaring birds squawking in the distance.

“If this is what they think is best, I’ll get through it. I want these words out of my head… for good.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, taking in Steve’s large frame as he peered in at Bucky like he was looking at a sickly dog at the pound.

Steve nodded. “You’ll get through it. You’ve gotten through worse.”

The two men shared a comfortable silence. But another sentence lingered on Steve’s tongue. He watched in as Bucky dropped his head, the stump that was left of his silver arm laying stiff against his side.

Maybe Steve should keep this to himself, maybe it was better if Bucky didn’t know.

“Also,” Shit – the word slipped out of Steve’s mouth too quickly to swallow it back down.

When Steve refrained from saying more, Bucky got impatient.

“What is it, punk?”

Steve pushed his hands further into his pockets. “I uh,” He cleared his throat next, attempting to buy time or find something rather unimportant to say instead.

Bucky raised his brows, his heart beginning to pound louder from this odd behavior. Steve had to spill.

“I didn’t come alone.”

PART TWO PLAYLIST

🌿Songs that inspired this series🌿

— Spiriteaux

By Tony Anderson

— Welcome to the Jungle

By Novo Amor

— In Between Breaths

By SYML

— Still

By Ola Gjelio

I recommend listening to the songs in order as shown above. A master playlist will be linked at the end of the series.

Spotify Link to Chapter Two Playlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes series #the complexities of a black hole #tcoabh #tcoabh series #thepsychewrites

[nintendont2502]

thinking about davesprite. i blame you /lh but anyways. any hcs about him that you have Not been able to post because they just. weren't ever topical.

so many. so so so fucking many. i try to keep sdd relatively close to canon characterisation wise but,,,,, fuck i have ideas

this ones just a straight up headcanon thats barely tied to canon but gender apathetic/agender any pronouns davesprite,, big fan of this one in combination with t4t pepsisprite (dsprite is junes birdfriend)

this could be a whole rant to itself but i have. so many thoughts on davesprites relationship with bro and how fucked up it is. to make what could be a whole ass essay short and to just focus on one tiny fucked up aspect of it,,, davesprite associating pain and injury with his brother but in a 'positive' way, because him being hurt has always been associated with 'positive' memories of bro for him (bro training him 'because he cares', bro helping him stitch himself up after a particularly bad strife when he was too young to do it himself, getting his literal wing torn off while bro died protecting him,,, man).

semi related to above but he does exhibit some bird behaviours even if he refuses to admit it - the big one is pulling out his feathers when hes stressed (again, vaguely related to above - davesprite getting stressed about bro and pulling out too many feathers, and that pain simultaneously making things worse *and* calming him down)

my headcanons for a post game dsprite where he somehow makes it to the creation of the universe are either 'he makes it through and gets given a real body and the ability to age :))' or. well. hes a game construct right. hes just. hes an npc. hes meant to be part of the game. ...what if it doesnt let him leave. what if going through the door completely wipes his data and hes just. gone. what if hes forced to choose between being stuck in the session alone forever or disappearing from existence permanently. (this was actually the basis of a fic idea lmao)

as much as i love davesprite dream bubble content.... i dont think hed make it into the bubbles. hes not a person, right. fuck if the *guardians* dont make it then what chance does he have

i dont think he sleeps much.

[slaps davesprite] this sad boy can fit so many identity crises into him

how does he know hes himself. like. how does he know hes not just code programmed to think hes dave and act like dave. sure hes clinging to that old identity that he isnt allowed to have anymore, but what if that was never him? who is he, then?

jesus christ these got depressing

bird mating rituals,, he gives john cool rocks and shiny things and gets really flustered about it because 'holy shit im being so obvious' and johns just like 'haha cool! :B'

he gives davesprite like. a shiny bit of plastic one day as a joke and davesprite gets way too happy about it.

dave and davesprite brothers is so fucking real. to me.

less a headcanon, more a thought i cant get out of my head. davesprite literally keeping his sword in his chest is. fuck man. thats something. the only way he can use it is by taking it out which has gotta fucking hurt,,,, violence and fighting hurting himself just as much as it hurts everyone else

i like drawing post battleship dsprite with the missing wing and stomach hole still because im gonna be so real i dont think sburb would heal that. who cares right. it isnt threatening him at all - sure it hurts a lil but he could get used to it, and it isnt impacting his role, and like. hes just a sprite. who cares

^^ and if it *can* be healed, i still dont think it would by then. look man im just a sucker for emotional and mental healing being represented physically,,, the only time they heal is when he finally gives himself a break and lets himself rest and lower his guard and heal emotionally

again this isnt really a headcanon it just haunts me. davesprite is/was a knight of time right. both serving (and sacrificing for) time and using time as a weapon. thinking about how weapons can both protect and injure, or even kill. thinking about how davesprite probably feels responsible for all those deaths in the doomed timeline. thinking about how he essentially killed himself by travelling back. thinking about how he did it to protect.

...davesprite thinking about what would happen if dave died permanently. hed never do anything. hed never let that happen. but... the timeline needs a dave, right. and davesprite would still be there. hed never do anything to make it happen. but what if that was his chance.

i love the idea that dsprite acts more like dirk and hal acts more like dave (mirroring their text colours). i just think its fun

yall ever think about how the shades john gave dave were so important that when he was literally recreated, the universe still gave them to him? he wasnt wearing then when he was prototyped. because i do. i think about it all the time.

new pesterchum handle. turnedtechGodhead is the only one ive thought of atm but im gonna make more i stg (vaguely related: hals pesterchum is turingTested. that is all)

i swear to god theres more rattling around in there but i cant reach it and this is logn enough so :thumbsup:

#MAN #thanks for the opportunity to ramble i needed it #me.txt #davesprite

[partypoisonzz]

thoughts on vamp!trey? any thoughts? any spare thoughts at all? 🫣

— (totally not sqiblet)

(also sorry if u we’re looking for mcr related asks i just now considered that as i’m writing this lol)

All asks of all kinds (except like my social security number and shit lol) are welcome here. Plus I want to let everyone know about our special boy. 😗

Vampire!Trey Headcanons

CW: NSFW content, AFAB reader, graphic descriptions of blood/wounds, mentions of death, mentions of scars, breathplay, mentions of menstruation

SFW

He's obviously fucking terrifying. Extremely strong, extremely intense, could totally accidentally kill you from feeding and has had it happen before with other people. But he loves you and you love him, so he has this compulsion to keep you safe that he hasn't had in the past, as well as a stronger telepathic connection than he's had with any of his feeding partners. He can tell when it's too much for you. As soon as this happens, he stops everything.

Kinda weird to say about a guy who could plausibly kill you at any moment, but he's an acts of service guy, — partially because you're keeping one another alive, which is the biggest act of service of all, and partially because he's come to know you so well and wants to make sure you have everything you want and need. But if you make over him for taking care of you, he will not take the bait. He just gets all embarrassed and tells you to shut up and not mention it.

Secretly obsessed with the heated blanket that he puts on to keep you warm after he takes too much blood. He's been ice cold for nearly thirty years, so the warmth makes him feel weirdly human. He also likes how you fuss over how cold he is, all the while curling in closer to him. You don't mind wrapping yourself around a gigantic ice block. That's amoré.

Fixated on your bite scars. It isn't that he feels guilty, — it's the only way he can live, and you want him to do this, — but he still can't function knowing he's left permanent marks all over you without drawing attention to it. He traces over them when you're laying together. He kisses them sometimes, too.

Loves how affectionate you are towards him, but doesn't know how to handle it at all. Part of him still feels like he doesn't deserve you, or that your attachment to him is just a result of the mild mind-control powers that his venom contains, so having you look at him like he hung the fucking moon feels disconcerting. He never asks for reassurance, but he needs it when he gets into his depressive, paranoid moods. If you keep telling him you love him, he just might eventually think that he deserves it... Maybe.

Gets in moods sometimes where he's essentially an apex predator with the zoomies. At that point, you just kinda have to try and fight against his superhuman strength and dramatically freak out while he pretends to eat you in a borderline cartoonish fashion. It's fucked up and ridiculous, but it's one of the only times he treats his condition like something other than a curse, and also you generally end up making out afterwards, at which point he usually bites you for real.

NSFW if ya nasty

Gets so, so needy when he's hungry. If he's gone a couple days since he first realized he needed to eat for whatever reason, he will be a trembling, wild-eyed mess when you finally tell him to take what he needs. He's always a bit less considerate than usual, biting all over with reckless abandon, but he's usually also gasping and moaning, telling you that he "needed you so bad" and "you taste so good, fuck, you're perfect."

Uses his telepathic powers to edge you. He knows when you're close without you saying anything, and he stops just to make you beg. He wants you to be shaking and crying, pleading with him to let you come. This usually ends with either his teeth in your neck while he fucks you harder or removing his head from between your legs to finish you off with his fingers while he bites your thigh. The overstimulation of having him bite you while you finally come always leaves you a fucking wreck.

He also pushes every limit he can because he knows exactly how much you can take. He will press down against your windpipe until he knows he needs to let up, edge and/or overstimulate you until you can't speak, fuck you as hard as he can with his hand over your mouth until he knows that it's too much. Even when he knows he needs to settle down a bit, he keeps up the aggression, telling you to "just take a little bit more, I know you can" and "stop making so much fucking noise."

Loves eating you out. He has you sit on a towel every time regardless of the time of month because he always leaves a bunch of bites all over your hips and legs, so blood gets everywhere, anyway. Part of the appeal is that he wants to do you a favor after you've supplied him with his literal life-source, but also he just loves it in general. It feels intimate in a carnal way. He holds your legs open and goes absolutely insane. He's not gentle about it, — he literally eats you out like you're his last meal. He pins your hips down against whatever surface because his hunting instincts tell him not to let you move and fucking devours you without much rhyme or reason, smearing blood all over your thighs and his face. He'll make you come over and over until he's finally satisfied, laughing at your trembling legs and blissed-out expression when he finally pulls away.

Will have you sit on his lap while he feeds off you, so he can feel you up and, if you're lucky, finger you. Due to his predatory instincts, the more that you whine, the more ruthless he gets, pulling away from your neck to muffle your cries with his palm and tell you to stop squirming so it will be over quicker, even though he's rocking his hips up against you the entire time.

Licks the blood off of you every time he bites you. He doesn't want to waste a single drop, but he also just loves the way that you react, all desperate and usually already fucked out. Sometimes, he looks up into your eyes while he's doing it, and you're an absolute goner. You've come to crave the feeling of his tongue running over your wounds, and you find that the taste of your own blood in his mouth when you grab him by the hair and pull him up to kiss you isn't bad, either.

#pen gets asks #trey parker x reader #my writing #headcanons #vampire trey