#(but like. What If It Really Wasn't. that would be terrifying right)

[magicisrealandsoismyally]

Okay, thought we were being like, chill, but I guess that's a kindness only afforded to people you consider to be women, so I'm gonna break this down piece by piece here, a lot to address.

"purposely obtuse or intellectually dishonest"

right off the bat the fact I disagree with you means I'm being intentionally wrong and evil. There's no room for me to be misguided, or making mistakes, or being uninformed, I'm either playing stupid or lying. Got it.

I "either hate AFABs, or don't take harm against them seriously". Once again, another false dichotomy. I take harm against women incredibly seriously, I just don't think the biggest threat to women is trans women. I think we have the same enemies, conservative men in power. I said you were fueled by fear because I was trying to be nice. It's not just fear. It's anger. Misdirected anger. You, and many others, have decided the easiest thing to do is hate.

Yeah. It is in fact transphobic to demand sex segregated spaces given that a true biological sex isn't fucking real. That's why it's "Assigned male at birth" or "Assigned female at birth". I've been assigned a lot of things throughout my life. So have you. Are you going to tell me those assignments were always accurate? I mean hell, with the amount of cis people out there, their accuracy rate is definitely above 50%. Still not accurate tho.

Transphobia is both the people trying to murder us, and the people, who don't want us in spaces that are away from the people trying to murder us. You are aware that the same cis men wanna kill us both right? You've arbitrarily drawn a line in the sand because you are grossly misunderstanding how trans people work. The number one piece of advice I see on this site from transfems, is how to avoid being SAed. By cis men, by cis women, by trans men. It's so common, that it makes me question if I even want to be in spaces with y'all. You wanna talk about fear? I'm fucking terrified. All the time. The instant I come out to the world, I get to spend the rest of my life, knowing that at any moment, someone says anything negative about me? and my life is over. Because people like you, will believe them. Because the scary transfem must be the person oppressing you. Because its easy, to villainize the minority. And it's easy to decide he's a monster. And all the while, she loses everything just for being an easy target.

You wanna talk physical safety? 83% of genderqueer victims of fatal violence are trans women. People love to kill us.

AMAB privilege is not real. I was not socialized male. I think you have a perspective on how the patriarchy functions that hasn't seen the other side of the fence, so let me go ahead and elaborate on that. Being a Man, is something you can fail out of in the patriarchy. It's a club that is nigh impossible to enter, but really fucking easy to fail out. Under the patriarchy, I am not a man. I failed out of that shit at the age of 8 when I said I didn't like sports. When I did anything "girlie" at all. When I cried. I was a crybaby (according to my family) and a faggot (according to the other kids at school). And from that moment, I was a target. Always have been. I wasn't socialized male, I was socialized as a failed man. Most trans girls are treated that way from a young age. I did not benefit from the patriarchy I was shoved around. I have gotten into an absurd amount of fights that I never started because some fucking asshole decided to beat the shit out of the fag. I spent like a week on tumblr before hearing other shared experiences about this kinda thing. Literally not hard to talk to trans women about this stuff if you, yk, try.

"We don’t need to check genitals I would have no problem with the manliest most masculine most passing trans man in an afab space because no matter what hormones or surgery are involved they cannot rape and impregnate me with their penis the same way an AMAB person could."

How do you know he's trans. How. Tell me right now how you tell the difference between a cis man and a trans man with bottom surgery. Do that without being transphobic, please. Find a way. I'm looking for something hilarious to read today, it's been a long one. Because if you don't have a way, your entire transmisogynistic utopia falls apart here. You can't tell if someone is trans. It's about identity. You cannot tell if someone has a penis. No matter what you do. You cannot tell someone's assigned gender at birth.

And how wonderful, you mentioned prisons, just read about this one. Did you know when transfems are imprisoned they get placed with the most violent cellmates? It's a tactic to reduce prison violence. Give the most violent people their own live in target. They get called prison wives. It's called V-Coding. So yeah, prisons are messed up. For both of us. If only we could talk about that and unite to fix that oh wait that's literally the whole point of having transfems in feminist spaces, crazy how that works.

"Also trans AMAB people commit sex crimes at an even higher rate than cis AMAB people"

WHERE IS THE FUCKING SOURCE. I am tired of TMEs and their constant stream of libel demonizing trans women. All of your nonsense statistics is so fucking stupid. Where are you getting these numbers? The sex offenders list? The one that as recently in the 80s included anyone who crossdressed or hit on a person of the same gender even if they were reciprocating? I literally have heard cis lesbians complain about that shit on this site, you're not even being a feminist by citing sex crimes, you're being a cop. Fucking being trans counted as being a sex criminal for most of American history. Drag queens, trans women, and crossdressers get accused of sex crimes all the fucking time, you have no critical thinking god fucking damn.

"which again did not START segregated they became that way because AMAB people could t be trusted not to rape/assault AFAB ones"

Yeah no lmao, (this next paragraph is going to be USAmerican centric because yk, that's what I learned about growing up) they kicked literally all queer people out when women got the right to vote, both lesbians and bi-women had to fight their way back into these spaces in the decades prior. I feel like we forgot about the Ellen Show or smth? Like feminists did not fucking go to bat for her after she came out. Groups will turn on their supporters the instant they decide they don't need them. Mainstream Feminism turned on people of color and queer people who put their own movements on hold to support the women's right to vote so fucking fast. It's American history too, all I had to do to learn this was have a pulse in my US history class.

Also “capitalism is real because it impacts me in a negative way but all other forms of oppression where I might be considered the privileged one in the dynamic is just hysterical people distracting from capitalism”

Girl, reading comprehension, try it out for size. I did not say these systems of oppression are not real. I'm saying demonization and fear of minorities (like, yk, trans women) is a tool of the existing power systems to make you hate us and not your actual enemy, the people in power (like, yk, rich people who are usually cis white conservative men). You keep bringing up how awful existing systems like prisons are but you just, do not analyze who fucking set those systems up. Private prisons are owned by the rich, not by the trans woman you're yelling at who is 4 bad days away from giving up and killing herself.

If trans AMAB people don’t want to be housed with cis ones, they can do the legwork and create those spaces for themselves like AFAB people did they do NOT have the right to commandeer our movement and literally erase our rights and protections because not allowing AMAB people into these vulnerable spaces might give them the big sad.

Okay so first you tell me feminist spaces weren't originally segregated by sex, and now you tell me it's an AFAB only movement? Because I know for a fact trans people have always been at bat for feminism. American white women said the same shit to women of color between 1920-1965. Cause the instant we become expendable, y'all throw us aside.

commandeer our movement

Really? Do you genuinely think trans women could ever outnumber cis women? What cartoon candyville are you from where there are more trans women than cis women? How the fuck are we going to commandeer the movement? We're like, 0.3% of the population at most. What are you talking about.

YEAH MY GUY IM FORCED TO LIVE LIKE A FUCKING PREY ANIMAL!!!

Okay so for starters, transwomen are also in constant fear. We have literally been hunted, this is just, like, a historical thing. Second, I'm not a guy. Don't call me that. You cannot honestly tell me you're not transphobic and then proceed to use exclusively masc terms to refer to me. That's just wild. Playing along with the tranny does not make you not a trans ally. You're still a transphobe just cause you're fine with trans men.

Some fear is completely rational

Yeah. We're both completely justified in our fear. I do not build my politics off my fear. You do. That's the difference. No matter how terrified I am of TMEs, I still fight for y'all. Always have, always will.

Gender is literally fake and varies from culture to culture. Sex based oppression is real and fucks over the lives of AFAB people worldwide.

Ohh, damn, so close, you'll get it next time I'm sure. See the trick is BOTH OF SEX AND GENDER ARE FAKE. Genderqueer people just admit that it's about self expression. You literally just described how fallible sex assignment is by talking about intersex people, it's like, hella cultural. Sex based oppression is real. So is Gender based oppression. Because people are shitty about fake shit, all the time, we're on tumblr, the "death threats over shipping" website.

You cannot tell me you think you're not transphobic and then claim gender oppression isn't real. I feel bad for any trans people who have the misfortune to interact with you. I hope one day you realize you fought on the wrong side of history. And if not? I hope they speak of you in the same breath as the grown adults trying to stop Ruby Bridges from attending school, in the same breath as the cops at Stonewall. You have an excellent day. I probably won't, but what's new. I'm sorry you're so afraid. I'm sorry you fell for it when they told you who to be afraid of. I'm sorry I couldn't do more. If anyone wants sources on this stuff, i'll add links to posts getting into it, a lot of it's screenshots and i'm not about to make this any longer than it is. There's more ofc, but I can only cite what links I have on hand, y'all can do your own research, read like, any transfem blog while they still exist. https://www.tumblr.com/honeylemony/767694258735136768?source=share https://www.tumblr.com/marxism-transgenderism/767536279224270848/okay-ive-said-before-that-part-of-why https://www.tumblr.com/girldogmystic/766813723287502848/i-wanna-get-more-specific-with-this-according-to

"OP is a terf" is a thought-terminating cliche meant to keep you from questioning the status quo and keep you afraid of being labeled a heretic should you come to your own conclusions about anything.

[reidgenius]

Low Pain Tolerance | S.R. x Reader

image by reidgif <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Word Count: 1.4k Category: angst, hurt/comfort? Warnings: commitment issues, wildly insecure!reader (it's really just me) A/N: I haven't written for Spencer before, so please excuse any OOC inaccuracies and be nice okay! I am a long-time lurker/admirer of the lovely @pathologicalreid and am writing this for her cutesy margovember event :) Song Inspo: Low Pain Tolerance by Abby Holliday

You never enjoyed running.

Still, that didn't stop you from doing it often. Whether it be on the job or in a relationship, you ran.

To catch a bad guy. To catch yourself before you fall. To stop something terrible before it happens... You ran.

In this instance, you found yourself running from Spencer Reid.

"Would you look at me? Please?" he pleaded.

You knew if you were to turn around that you'd see his glassy doe eyes and be drawn right back in. You knew your weaknesses, and he was certainly one of them. The biggest one. That's why you stayed put, staring at his bedroom wall.

"I can't, Spence." You meant to say it with finality, but it came out more as a whimper.

"You can't look at me, or you can't-"

"Neither. Both."

As the holidays approached, Spencer had mentioned the idea of the two of you making a trip out to Vegas. "Just for a day or two," he'd promised. Though there wasn't much he treasured about home, you knew that his mother was there, and that was more than reason enough.

This evening, he'd brought it up again after letting you avoid the topic for weeks.

"It's only a matter of time before you figure it out," you admit.

"Figure what out?"

"God, Spence, that I'm only bringing you down!" you nearly shouted, though you hadn't meant to. The anxiety took over. "I'm like... gahhh! I don't know how to do any of this, I-"

To your dismay, he let out a laugh as you finally turned to face him. A real, genuine laugh.

"Bringing me down?" He looked at you with an earnest amusement. "Honey, I don't think you realize what you-"

"I'm scared. Okay? Is that what you wanted me to admit? That I'm scared of meeting her?" A single tear gushed down your cheek.

His brows knit in concern as he quickly thought of ways to disprove the common fears surrounding schizophrenia and it's manifestations.

"Baby, schizophrenia doesn't ma-"

"Dammit Spencer, it's not about that! It's- I..."

You found yourself stumbling over your words.

"I don't care about her diagnoses!" you laughed. (Of course, you did care, but that wasn't what was scaring you.) "I'm scared of this!" you said, waving your hands between the two of you. "I don't want to rush it. I don't want to get her hopes up..."

You let your legs give way to sit on the floor against the wall, your head in your hands, mumbling to the cold hardwood.

"I don't want to get my hopes up."

There was it. That was the truth.

You weren't used to it. You weren't used to someone asking you how your day was and really caring. You weren't used to the notion that a man would want to wrap himself around you at night and keep you close. You'd never been one to draw much attention from men. Or women. Or anyone, really.

Naturally, you figured that there must be something deeply and inherently flawed in you. Something Spencer had yet to discover.

So, being with him was... terrifying. You were constantly waiting and wondering when he'd conclude that you weren't as pretty as he initially thought, or as witty, or as intelligent, or kind, or...

And it would only be cruel to drag Diana into this. To have her think that perhaps her son had found his person. To have her thinking that she might be meeting her future daughter-in-law. It felt cruel to yourself, in some twisted way, to pretend that this was all going to last.

Spencer was typically a fast thinker, but your admission had the cogs in his brain working overtime. You were afraid of him? Of your relationship?

He padded over to join you on the floor, keeping a little distance so as not to scare you.

"Get your hopes up? You don't-" he gulped, "I mean... you don't think we're gonna- that this is gonna work out?"

Still speaking to the floor, you sigh, "I don't know, Spence."

You were exhausted. Incessantly feeling like you're on the brink of being "found out" can do that to a person. It's not that Spencer hadn't done all the right things. No, he was the perfect partner. But therein lied the issue. He was perfect. And, in your opinion, you were far, far from it.

You took a deep breath through your tears.

"I don't think I can keep doing this."

Confusion. Utter shock. Things had been going so well with you the past 8 months. Spencer immediately began to wrack his brain combing through all the possible mistakes he could've made. Did he raise his voice with you? Had he forgotten some big milestone? Was he not giving you enough?

"Honey I-" he gathered himself, placing a hand on your thigh, "I'm so sorry. Can I ask... what makes you say all this?"

Though you were reluctant, you figured that now was as good a time as any.

"Spencer. I am not good for you! Good enough for you!" With each point, you illustrated by raising a finger, "I am impulsive and I complain and I get weird sometimes when you touch me and I can be a massive bitch and I never know how to-"

"Woah, woah, woah-" He snuck up closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his head atop yours, all while you kept rambling. "Why in the world do you say that? Not good enough for me? If anything it's me who isn't deserving of you..."

"No, you-"

He stopped you in your tracks just by saying your name in that beautiful way he does. Like its covered in honey and dripping with admiration.

"You are everything. You may think those things about yourself but I certainly don't." His thumb caressed your bare skin so carefully as he continued, speaking slowly so as to allow the words to really sink in. "You are the most generous person I've ever encountered. You care so deeply about people you love. You are courageous and willing to try all the weird foods I suggest even though you really don't want to." He smirked a bit at that one. "You have taken everything that life has thrown at you and navigated it with grace. You really are just... you're it. You're her. You're the girl - the woman - I've always hoped would come my way but never dreamed actually would. Honey, I've figured out everything I need to know when it comes to how I feel about you."

You sat there, warm under his embrace, pondering his words as he spoke. It's nothing he hasn't said before, granted, in much less grand and emotionally charged ways. But it was like you were really hearing it for the first time. You wanted so badly to believe him.

"I love you," he continued. "I love you so much that sometimes I am afraid of myself. Of what I'd do for you. You, god, you make me so much better."

"I love you, too. Too much," you squeaked out.

"No. Not too much." He leaned back to encourage you to look up at him. "You know I really mean all that right? Just the way you are. Quirks included?"

"I guess. And now I'm just self-conscious that I am so self-conscious..."

"You say that as if I'm not the exact same way!" he chuckles, trying to make light of what is clearly a shared wound. You'll deal with that later. Together, preferably. "Please, trust me. Do you trust me?"

And you did. You trusted Spencer with every cell in your body and hair on your head. There was nobody else you'd ever been so confident in. So, you nod against his chest as your tears begin to subside.

"Good. Now why don't we move this party up into the bed?"

"No offense, Spencer, but the last thing I want right now is to f-"

"No no no nooope! Not that, babe," he laughed. "Just wanna lay with you 'til this feeling passes. Is that okay?"

"Please."

And so, the rest of the evening consisted of cuddles under your massive comforter. Sweet admissions whispered in your ear. The tiniest kisses to your hairline and your shoulder and your nose and your wrists.

By the time you dozed into a worry-free slumber, you believed him a little more.

Perhaps you could let Spencer love you, forever.

[deathbxnny]

Loved your writing of arcane characters saying things they regret during an argument. Would you be willing to do a version with Jayce, Viktor and Silco? I apologize if you don't prefer to write about these characters, you can ignore this

Arcane men saying things they'll regret during an argument. | Viktor, Jayce, Silco x Gn!Reader

Oh, I absolutely am willing to do that, Anon!! These are going to be pretty irredeemable, though, so there is not going to be a part two to this... anyways, enjoy!!<3

Content: Season 2 spoilers!!, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, break ups, swearing, gaslighting, toxic behavior, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

"This... isn't you anymore, Viktor. A-And I refuse to keep lying to myself like this either!" You hissed out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. You were losing your mind in this compound of his, unable to understand how seemingly no one was able to recognize how wrong everything was. People who were "healed" by him weren't the same after. They turned into robotic and uncanny husks of their old selves.

A terrifying sight that unnerved you deeply. And only you here.

The nail in the coffin was perhaps the skeptical appearance of Councilor Salo. Never in your life had you ever seen him give a damn about anyone but himself. He lived a life of riches and materialism, far from the selfless and minimalistic lifestyle found here. But after your boyfriend healed him of his inability to walk, he suddenly preached the same ideals that everyone else did.

Peace, love, and community.

Those were the important pillars of this idyllic place Viktor had created, and yet you couldn't see past the clear red flags that weaved themselves in their white attire. You were never much of a genius like he was, but it didn't take much brainpower to understand that this was not a great place to be in. No matter how hard he attempted to convince you of that.

"... I'm sorry you feel that way. But I'm afraid I can not follow your reasoning for this claim. I am myself... just someone greater. More meaningful. Isn't that beautiful?" His voice was so gentle and patient in comparison to yours. Something that wasn't unusual to him. But the way he used that tone now made you sick. "Terrifying is a better word, actually... Why can't you see that this is just wrong? You're not healing anyone-" "-But I am. Look around you. Is that not enough for you to finally believe me, my love? I want to create a better world... one in which we can live freely together." Your mind spun, his words ringing in your head dangerously. And you hated every second of it.

This isn't the man you loved anymore. He must have died that fateful day when the sky fell from above, and he covered you with his body to save you. His last act of kindness as your boyfriend and lover before he perished and left behind whoever he was. And you'd be damned if the last good memory got tainted too.

"No. I will not let you play with my mind anymore. I've had enough." You pushed past him, wanting to finally escape this borderline cult. Originally, you had only followed after him because you couldn't bear being without him. Jayce was right, though. He really was different now.

"Hm... it seems like I was right about you after all." You stopped in your tracks yet didn't dare face him. "You truly are not worth saving... you can't grasp the beauty of what I have made. I suppose everyone's claims for your low intelligence were, unfortunately, right. What a shame." How could a devil have such a soothing, loving voice? Why did the monster that now lurked in your shadow have to have your lovers face? The cruelty was too much to bear.

Who would have thought that you'd finally leave him for good after all the years you've taken care of him? This moment felt so surreal and yet ironically freeing as well. The end was near. "Did you... ever even love me?" You asked aimlessly, but didn't wait to hear his answer.

Perhaps if you had, however, you would've seen that sudden spark of surprise in his eyes, as you slipped out of his fingers for good at last.

》JAYCE

You had looked everywhere for him. And after also asking everyone under the sun if they had seen your boyfriend, you had eventually determined that he must've somehow gone missing. Worried sick, it pained you knowing that there wasn't much you could do either, considering that everyone was too busy getting ready for a borderline war and Caitlyn became unreachable as a result. Yet just as you began to lose hope, your dear lover finally returned... but he wasn't the same.

He didn't look the same, nor did he act the same, in fact. He looked so different that it even visibly startled you when you found him rummaging through his once shared laboratory. You had just returned from another wrap around the building in hopes of finding it, and whilst you'd consider yourself lucky this time around, all you now felt was genuine dread.

"Jayce...? What happened to you? I looked for you everywhere and-" You stilled at the intense look he gave you, his face flinching for a moment, as though his mind couldn't comprehend your image. Glancing over at his peculiar weapon of choice, you felt unnerved at how even that looked uncanny. The entire situation was unnerving you deeply, to say the least. "You... You shouldn't be here." He finally muttered, his voice deeper and colder than it ever was. Jayce always had such a fun and warm voice. If you didn't know any better, you would've questioned who he was a while ago.

"Hey... tell me where you were, okay?" You said, trying a more gentle approach as you neared him, eyes focused on his clearly injured leg. Had he been kidnapped? You doubted it. So what made him end up like this? Nothing you could come with explained his appearance. His hair and beard were way longer than they should have gotten in the short span of time he was gone, too.

Reaching down carefully, you tried to inspect his leg, but he seemed less receptive to the idea. Or so you assumed, after he shoved you away roughly and held the hammer to your face at impressive speed. His eyes were glossy, as though he wasn't entirely all there. He was reliving a terrifying moment in his mind, unaware of the horror you were going through. Never could you have ever thought of ending up in this position with him. "Jayce! What the hell are you doing-?" "-Get away! I know what you are... you've been sent by him too, weren't you?" You let out a shriek when he swung the hammer at you, only giving you a fraction of a second to jump out of the way.

Falling onto your behind, you quickly crawled backward and away from him, tears welling up in your eyes. Your scream seemed to at least wake him up, though, as he finally lowered his weapon and blinked at you in surprise. "Fucks sake! What is wrong with you?" You yelled out, yet as fast as his face softened, it hardened again. "... Sorry... I need to leave." Quickly making his way past you, he only barely escaped your presence before you grabbed onto the fabric of his pants. "Why? Where are you going? Why can't you tell me anything?"

The look in his eyes made you shrink away. This wasn't your Jayce anymore. "... The future of everyone in Piltover hinges on me being there on time. Now, make yourself useful for once and get out of my way." Shaking you off harshly, he left you crying on the cold floor of the once lively laboratory, not once looking back.

》SILCO

When you first met Silco, you were both still leading simple lives in the last drop with his brother and all of your other friends in Zaun. The lanes were harsh and, at times, cruel, yet you fought through the agony of it all together. Years down the line later, you find yourself still reminiscing on those heavenly days, particularly those of your lover who had turned for the worst in the time being. And the question of why you didn't listen to Vander's warnings came to mind again then. Perhaps you were just too used to excusing everything his brother did, especially after he had attempted to drown him so horrifically, which left him permanently injured.

But even so... why didn't you just listen? Why did it take so many years for you to finally throw the towel and leave for good? Finally realise that the man you loved was a monster? A disgusting and evil monster who was willing to use the plight of others for his own gain. And for what? Money? Fame? Power? It was all an ego trip you had far more than enough of. Zaun was his playground, and an escape was impossible. You'd be, however damned if you didn't at least try to anyways. Even if just in Vander's honor as a long-awaited apology.

Pushing past the crowd in the stuffy, full Last drop, you finally reached his office upstairs. Not caring about formalities anymore, you knocked and opened the door without awaiting a reply. If death met you behind it, then so be it. "Ah, darling, in a hurry today, aren't you?" "We need to talk. Alone." Short and straight to the point. Raising a brow, he shared a look with Jinx, who was just done giving him his daily "medicine". Oh, how you hated your lover's dearest creation. Shimmer. The exact thing that had ruined your lives for good. But you pushed away your disdain for the task at hand.

Giving Jinx a dismissive wave of his hand, you waited for her to be gone for good before taking a breath to speak. But Silco beat you to it. Always so painfully perceptive. "The answer is no, if you're here asking to leave. I refuse to let you go, dear. You have no one else but me after all. You wouldn't survive on your own." He always underestimated you, so this wasn't an all to surprising response. And if you were just a couple of months younger, you would have maybe agreed and backed off. But you were sick of his games.

"I didn't come here to ask for permission, Silco. I'm here to say goodbye." The slightest, softest crack at the last word gave you away horribly. You certainly didn't expect your feelings for the man to betray you, but even that won't stop you now. Said man just hummed in response as he stood up to face the window. His hands calmly lit a cigar, very much unbothered. But you knew that your sentence had gotten to him anyway with how his hand shook ever so slightly. Out of anger, most likely.

"So you think you can do whatever you want? Leave after you've spent so many years at my side? Your hands aren't as clean as you think they are, darling. Even yours are a bright violet." A reference to the shimmer vials on his desk. He knew how much you hated it, so this felt like a jab. A jab at the deep guilt you felt every day for enabling the death of all of your friends indirectly. If only you had stopped him from the start... then maybe you wouldn't have to feel the dread that ruined you from the inside anymore.

"I've accepted my flaws and sins a long time ago. I may not be better than you... but sometimes, in order to end the cycle, you have to walk away and leave some things behind." You suddenly felt so content, his cold and terrible words not reaching you anymore. You were so close to leaving. So close to leaving Zaun and Piltover like you've always dreamed. But Silco just scoffed in disbelief.

"Hah, don't give me that self-righteous shit... I've been there for you for so many years, dear. I've taken care of you, fed you, and loved you to my best ability for so long. The least you could do is be grateful for my kindness." "So you think I'm a burden?" The silence was deafening, but it was enough to confirm your long-standing suspicions. He had lost his love for you a long time ago. Perhaps the side that loved you so purely drowned in the river with him.

"... Goodbye. I hope one day you can walk away too." You turned and began walking out then, suddenly realising that it's finally over. Shoving your hands into the pocket of your coat, you felt the ticket for the skyship you had to take. "Don't you dare leave. Don't you dare it-" All bark and no bite as usual. There was no stopping you now, and he knew it. He was letting you go after all. You could just hope that one day he'd listen to your words and end the cycle, too.

What a shame that you won't be there at his side to see it, however... maybe in another life then.

[docdudo]

Familiar 141 - Young Witch!Reader (Part 3)

You looked up at the cabin looming before you, its structure crafted from beautiful dark pine wood. The windows were adorned with extravagant details, and the doors, oversized and imposing, seemed designed for beings much larger than ordinary humans.

Well, maybe because, yeah, they weren't humans. Familiars would be offended if you ever compared them to humans.

Then again, so would witches.

You think.

Who would have guessed that such a grand and beautiful construction was hidden in the forest you’ve been exploring since you were old enough to walk?

It was clearly made with love and dedication too...

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Gaz smiled smugly, crossing his arms as he looked up at the place with you. "It’s been here since the 1800s. Of course, we’ve been updating and remodeling it for quite some time now."

You prefered not to think too hard about that date.

"Right..." You mumble, a little unsure what else to say, trying to avoid looking at his face for too long. His yellow, shining eyes made you a bit nervous.

You didn't even notice that your hand automatically went to stratch at the gold bands around your wrist, only jumping a bit in alarm as your small hand was grabbed by a much bigger one.

"Ey, wee lassie! No scratching, don't wanna ye hurting!" Soap smiled big even as he scolded you, making you frown a little at him.

"Right..." You grunted a bit more annoyed now, pulling your hand away from his quickly.

Soap barely reacted when you yanked your hand away from his, still smiling like an eager pup. He was leaning close, his wide stance unwavering, as if the thought of being even a moment away from you was unbearable.

Clingy...

Then again, weren’t Familiars usually like this? God, you wished you’d been born into a proper Coven, with real teachings about being a witch.

But nooooooo...

Instead, all you had were the itty bitty pieces of information your grandfather had about them and their life style. Sure, it was a lot of knowledge about witches for a human to have, but it wasn't enough.

You didn't know how they did it, really. Were your grandfather right about young witches never going outside the Coven? Like, never?

You doubt it that they were just being kidnapped left and right by solitary Familiars, so it had to be true, right...?

"What'cha ye thinking so hard about it, lass?" Soap questioned, inspecting your face closely, smile still present on his face.

"How to get away from you." You snarked quietly, a small frown tugging at your lips—though it looked suspiciously close to a pout. Not that it was intentional; your face just did that when you glared at someone.

"Aawww, lassie…" He crooned, a satisfied grin spreading across his face, his sharp smile making his eyes squint dangerously.

You trembled, instinctively stepping back at his reaction, your mind screaming 'danger' for a few panicked seconds. You’d grown bolder without the two scariest-looking Familiars around, momentarily forgetting the truth: no matter how they appeared, they were still ancient and dangerous. And goddamn, was his reaction terrifying…

"Tav." Gaz hissed, approaching you two with an annoyed look, immediatly slapping the back of Soap's head. "Baby witch, remember?"

"Tsc..." He grumbled at the hit, but immediatly softened as his eyes went back to you. "Sorry, mo leanbh... 'm not dangerous, not for you, never for you..." He crooned slightly, kneeling in front of you easily. "Would never hurt ma witch..."

You could only nod stiffly, still on edge about his behavior. Their behavior. Ever since you woke up a few hours ago, your emotions had been swinging wildly—mad, angry, annoyed… then terrified, scared, hesitant…

You wanted to go home.

Oh, God, please, don't cry again... you don't want to cry again, you're better than that....

Gaz and Soap watched your face for a few moments, quickly noticing your bubbling emotions once again. The cat Familiar immediately dropped to his knees beside Soap, intent on calming you down before you could get worked up again.

"It's okay, kid... you're okay, we would never hurt you, Soap was right..." Gaz soothes, voice quiet and gentle, big hands hovering above your arms, unsure if he should touch you or not.

"I know..." You raspy, a weird mix between emotional and annoyed. "Wanna... wanna go home...."

"Aw, lassie..." Soap murmurs, much more tamed now, one hand carefully touching your limp arm, trying to comfort you.

"......where did you even lived, hon'?" Gaz frowns a little as he asks, like he was thinking this over for the first time now. "You are not part of a Coven, right?"

"I..." That makes you hesitate a little, also frowning as you try to explain your situation. "I'm not... part of a Coven.... I... I, like, lived with my... grandfather close to the forest entrance... near the south part..."

"Gran'father?" Soap repeats, face immediatly scrunching in strong distaste.

"W-Wha-, what's with your reaction??" You question, eyes going a little wide as you take a step back, now frowning more than ever, almost glaring even. "It's my grandfather...!"

"Witches don't have gran'fathers." Soap grunts back, clearly annoyed but holding back so he wouldn't scare you again.

"Well—!" You caught yourself, suddenly remembering the dangerous creatures you were speaking to, taking a small breath to try and calm down a little. "W-Well, I do..." You murmur, quieter, but still annoyed.

"Soap, stop provoking her." Gaz sighs, shaking his head slightly. At least you don't look like you would cry now; good thing Soap has a way to always make everyone annoyed at him. "We'll take this to Price and Ghost, have a proper conversation..."

Soap grunted softly but nodded obediently, taking your small hand in his and bringing it closer, gently rubbing his face against the smooth palm with his eyes closed. Gaz studied you for a moment, but when he saw you standing still, just looking mildly annoyed, he smiled slightly.

Gentle little Witch. No mature Witch would let a Familiar have their way like that. Were all baby witches this cute? They lacked the danger and wild nature of older witches, making them seem so soft.

"C'mon lassie, we need to have a good, long chat, uhm?" Soap murmured, getting back up to his feet, not letting go of your small hand.

"Why...?" You almost whined, keeping your voice quiet, but still letting your displeasure obvious.

"Because some baby 'ere never had proper teachings," Soap smiled humorously, tugging you along with Gaz immediately closing in beside you, smilling gently down at you.

"Let's go get Price and Ghost, sweetheart."

[novankenn]

Jaune had always been told if you held someone in your heart, they were never truly gone. He really hoped that was the case, because in his fragmenting thoughts he was afraid, terrified of forgetting her. Of loosing the one more than real connection with her. The kiss they shared had been their first, and heartbreakingly their last. Yet the feeling of her lips was like an ethereal dream. One Jaune wished he would never wake from.

Even though he was with Ren and Nora, camping at Yang and Ruby's place, Jaune still felt lost and alone. They were waiting for Ruby to awaken, if she ever did to make a decision. Do they pursue the one lead they have about Cinder and her team? Or do they follow the example of other teams like CFVY and transfer to one of the other academies to continue their training?

Jaune as much as he wanted to hurt Cinder. To make her feel the pain he was sure the psychotic bitch had caused Pyrrha, he also wanted to gather more support. Cinder had bested Ozpin and Pyrrha, in single combat. They need more manpower. That was the only way he could see them getting a win.

"Chilly." Jaune commented to himself near the forested edge of the Xiao Long homestead. Crossing his arms over his chest, he started to rub his upper arms, trying to get some heat back in them.

He started to rub his arms with more vigor, as his shoulders were suddenly flooded with a bone deep chill. He looked about, checking the tree branches to see if there was a breeze. There was no movement. The air was as still as a grave.

"What the hell?" Jaune muttered seeing his breath before his eyes. That wasn't right. It was summer. There is no way the air was that cold. At least not naturally.

Jaune glanced about him, trying to pinpoint the source. His mind racing through the old stories, and folk lore his grandmother used to try and teach them as children.

"This is crazy..." Jaune whispered, before clearing his throat, to speak with a clear voice. "Pyrrha?"

A sudden bone chill invaded him. Wrapping about him as if he was being embraced in a hug from behind. Jaune's breath came in short gasps.

"I'm sorry." Jaune whimpered out, as tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough, that I let..."

"No Jaune." It was so soft that he could barely hear it. "It wasn't your fault."

The feeling of bone biting cold fell away and Jaune turned. His sorrow filled azure eyes suddenly regain some of their spark. He could see her.

"I never wanted to hurt you..." Pyrrha spoke, her voice was like the whisper of the gentlest breeze, but Jaune heard it. Tears still rolled down his cheeks, but the barest hint of his normal smile was upon his face, and his shattered heart at least felt partially patched.

"I miss you so much." Jaune whispered, unable to do anything but look upon the wispy, translucent form of his partner.

"I miss you." Pyrrha responded, a soft smile on her lips, "I'm never leaving you side again."

(A/N - originally posted in an ask to @pilot-boi now making it a full public post. Thanks for letting me have fun with your artwork.)

I know we’re in Mafia Mode, but I am thinking about Them

[masterwolftfs]

TF Trade with @axeeglitter

Josh was tired. He'd been on the set for hours, trying the same scene again and again, unable to get the role he was trying to convey just right. The director had lost his shit by this point, and had made Josh go outside for a breather and to collect his thoughts, because no matter what he tried, he just couldn't do it right. Josh, sick of being verbally assaulted by his director, had left in a rage and now sat in his dressing room, stressed and upset. After taking a few moments to himself, he started trying to calm down. Focusing on the items around him, he used the techniques his therapist had taught him to help ground his thoughts.

"Focus on 5 things you can see, Josh." He muttered to himself. One - The poster of the film he was acting the lead role in. Two - The LED bulbs adorning the mirror opposite where he sat. Three - the mirror, with his dashing reflection looking back at him, gorgeous event through the visible stress. Four - A small cactus, on his dressing table desk, his favourite plant, though it could use a little watering, that was for sure. And five - a small, golden lamp, pristine and very out of place, laid carelessly on his couch, as if thrown there in a rush. Josh didn't remember seeing that lamp before, it kind of looked like the stereotypical genie's lamp, maybe taken from the prop cupboard? But there wasn't a genie in this film… Bewildered, Josh headed over to the lamp and picked it up. Chuckling slightly to himself, he rubbed it, not really expecting any response, but figuring it funny to mess around with it nontheless. As expected nothing happened. He sighed. Despite knowing it wasn't real, magic wasn't real, he had been at least half hoping the lamp would respond to his touch. Throwing it back down, he muttered, "I just wish it was simpler" he sighed. "Easier. This is getting too fucking hard for me." As he uttered the words, it responded. The lamp glowed, softly, barely perceptible in the already warm lighting of the dressing room, but Josh could feel a pull towards it, and he went to pick it up. As soon as he touched it, his vision went. Terrified at his sudden blindness, he realised he couldn't smell, or hear either. His senses had been ripped from him, as if he never had them. Everything just stopped.

"Mr Hutcherson? Are you okay in there? It's been over an hour since you came back here… you're needed on set!" The extra, Carl, had been forced to come and get Josh on the director's behalf. Knocking for the fifth time without reply, he opened the door, to see the room empty, everything pristine bar a lamp laid sideways on the floor. "Must've been brought here by mistake" Carl laughed, and called out for Josh again. "Mr Hutcherson?" He must not be here, he thought. Picking up the lamp, suddenly it responded to his touch, a cloud of smoke enveloping Carl, and suddenly, Josh was in front of him. Golden bracelets adorned his wrists, and a gold collar was wrapped around his neck. Josh's eyes glowed gold and he boomed "Master… how may I serve you?" "Mr Hutcherson? Is that… you?" "If that is what you wish to call me, then yes." Josh's mind was screaming inside the genie's body, unable to convey his real emotions or thoughts. It was as if he was trapped inside this form, unable to be freed. "Tell me, what do you wish?" "I guess… I wish for a drink, this prank is insane, lets celebrate it with one haha" Carl chuckled. Suddenly, a drink was in his hand, seemingly materialised there out of nothing. "Woah…." Carl got a sudden idea. Josh had always been an infuriating coworker… so… maybe he should pay… "I wish to be Josh Hutcherson." Carl said, dead serious. Instantly, his body started shifting, muscles toning, height shrinking, hair changing, his entire body warping to match his twisted desire. Inside the genie, Josh could only scream, desperate to stop this. As Carl changed, the genie also changed, adopting his previous form, looking more like Carl. His mind started shifting, and the internal voice started quieting down. He was being erased, wiped, and Carl was setting in. Josh could remember who he was, but he was programmed to act exactly like Carl, which, it seemed, included being gay. He couldn't bring himself to think sexually about women anymore, only men, and the new Josh in front of him was beautiful. He instinctively groped his dick, smirking at the new Hutcherson in front of him. Carl, now Josh, noticed. "I wish for you to love me" He said, without any hesitation. Within a week, the world knew Josh Hutcherson was gay, and he had married Carl, his beloved husband. Years of love and beautiful happiness passed by, with Josh's work going wonderfully, winning hundreds of awards, becoming rich and hollywood's #1 actor, famous and beloved by all. The world bowed to brilliant actor Josh Hutcherson, including his all powerful servant, the Genie Carl.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Rio's Favorite Person

“What if I stopped killing witches?”

“Are you going to?”

“No, of course not. But pretend. What if?”

“All right, I’m pretending. …I would be sad?"

“Is that all?”

“Probably more, um. Excitable?”

“…Not really what I meant, but good to know. Also, terrifying.”

“Agatha, are you asking if I’m only in love with you because you kill people?”

“Well. I assume it is a big part of the appeal—“

“Heh. I do like when you are insecure, beloved, it’s cute. Agatha Harkness, you are mine and I am yours, for all eternity. Nothing changes that.”

“Wow. Somehow both condescending and creepy. You really wouldn’t mind?”

“I would mind. I would be sad. I would sulk. I would do so right here, next to you, where I belong.”

“…You’re really overdoing it today.”

“I was trying for reassuring?”

“Who said I was even worried.”

“Agatha, do you know you are my favorite person in the world?”

“But why?”

“I was just asking myself the same question.”

“…”

“There, beloved! You do have feelings after all.”

“…mm.”

“…Agatha?”

“Hmm?”

“…Don’t get upset.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agatha, I didn’t mean that. I was only trying to—“

“Hurt my feelings? I know.”

“…You do it to me.”

“I do. You deserve to get some of your own back.”

“…I…I’m sorry, all right?”

“Hah! I knew you couldn’t hold out!”

"…”

“Goddess, you're terrible at—okay, okay, let's calm down, there's no need for this many vines.”

“That remains to be seen. Say something nice, Ags. Quickly."

"Right. …You know all that stuff you said before, about me not having to kill people? I…um. It was…I liked it. Really.”

"…You said it was condescending and creepy."

"It was. But it was also reassuring."

"Oh. …cute…"

"…I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last part, okay?"

"I do mean it, you know. But…"

"Also don't stop killing people?"

"…It is very nice."

"Anything for you, my sweet."

"And for your own pursuit of power, of course."

"Of course. I am fundamentally selfish and unfeeling, after all."

"…I didn't say that."

"Today."

"Come here, beloved."

"Wait, why? Why vines?! I thought we were past vines!"

"Because you're going to try to get away if I tell you all the reasons you're wonderful. This way, you can't escape."

"You really, really, really don't have to do that."

"I do. I hurt your feelings. I want to make it up to you."

"No, no, you didn't, I promise I was only being manipulative, I swear!"

"You are a beautiful once-in-a-generation witch..."

Sometime much, much later

"…Fine. You win this one."

"I wasn't aware we were competing?"

"I mean, I won't pretend my feelings are hurt again."

"Heh. Pretend."

"...you really do spend a lot of time thinking about me, huh?"

"Yes, Agatha. I really do."

"Creepy. ...Don't stop, though."

"No, beloved. Never."

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Whumpee & His Collar part 1

Warnings: tight collar around Whumpee's neck, severely restricted breathing, mentions of beating and past torture & conditioning, panic attack and choking

Finally got around to writing the story from THIS ask I received awhile ago (sorry Anon that it took so long!)

Whumpee had messed up. He had seriously messed up. But the problem was, he had no idea how. Everything had been going so well -- Caretaker was much nicer to him than Whumper ever was, helping him slowly heal and become more confident as a person.

But today, Caretaker tried to take off his collar. The leather collar wrapped tight around his neck that only barely gave him enough room to breathe.

When Caretaker had asked if she could touch his collar, he hadn't realized she meant take it off. Taking it off always meant horrific agony awaited him back when he was in Whumper's hands.

The collar was everything to Whumpee. It was the only way he had of knowing his old master's mood, and if he had been a good Whumpee. Whumper had put the collar on as a gift, so he could know when he had done something wrong or right. The only times Whumper took it off were when he was about to brutally tortured Whumpee to within an inch of death, because Whumper didn't want him to pass out as fast from lack of oxygen if he hyperventilated, and also so he could hear every scream, howl, and wail of pain that left Whumpee during punishments.

Sometimes Whumper would loosen the collar, just a little, to cause Whumpee a bit of anxiety, as a silent warning that he wasn't living up to his impossibly high standards. Somehow, Whumpee was never good enough for him, and many days ended with the collar coming off, followed by a vicious beating. The looser the collar by the end of the day, the worse it would be for him.

Whumper always reminded him that when the collar came off, it meant he was unwanted, unlovable, worthless. It meant that Whumper could choose to kill Whumpee and abandon him like an unwanted dog on the street, but was graciously letting him live by putting the collar back on as a symbol of ownership.

Whumpee had learned to respect the collar with life-or-death urgency, do anything to keep it on and avoid the living hell that awaited him if it ever came off. Even though it constantly hurt to breathe, it was a small price to pay for being allowed to stay alive. It was only a minor inconvenience, really, and he would never complain about such a thing. Even if it meant he could never do any physically strenuous work or activities without ending up panting and wheezing and gasping for air.

He didn't want to breathe without the restrictive collar on. Because being able to breath right always meant PAIN. He was terrified of being able to breathe freely. And now he'd done something terrible to anger Caretaker, and he didn't even know what he'd done wrong. But Caretaker was trying to take the collar off, which meant she was going to hurt and torture him for hours on end and making him scream his throat and lungs raw and--

Whumpee recoiled away from Caretaker's hands so hard he ended up sprawled across the floor, desperately scooting away from her with hands raised placatingly, pleading and desperate.

"Please!" Whumpee rasped past the collar choking his throat, "whatever I did, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Tell me what I can do to fix it and I will! Please don't take my collar off, please--" a hiccupping sob escaped him, and then he burst into tears, body trembling and shaking violently with all-consuming terror. "Please don't stop loving me!" He wailed frantically. "I'll be so good for you! I'll never make another mistake, if you show me how to be perfect again! You don't have to torture me to get me to obey! Please--"

Caretaker looked worried and confused and also horrified by Whumpee's intense reaction. "What are you talking about? Whumpee, what's going on?" She took a few steps toward him to comfort him, but Whumpee scrambled backwards across the floor, flattening himself against the nearest wall, frightened tears streaming freely down his face.

He was cornered, unable to escape whatever punishment Caretaker planned to carry out once his collar was off. He should have known better. Known better than to believe Caretakers false promises never to hurt him. It was only a matter of time before Whumpee messed it all up, and now he'd pay the price for his insolence.

Caretaker didn't stop coming closer, and Whumpee's throat felt like it was closing up the harder he cried, each breathing coming harder than before until he was gasping raggedly, unable to get a full breath in before the collar choked him and he let out another helpless sob.

Stupid, stupid Whumpee, he told himself. It was all his fault -- he deserved whatever Caretaker was going to do to him. And now he was digging his own grave deeper by flinching away from her -- he wasn't supposed to move away from Whumper when he wanted to touch and adjust his collar, or the consequences would be that much worse.

Whumpee cried even harder at remembering that. He couldn't do anything right, it seemed. He'd let himself get too comfortable, forgot the most important rules beaten into him every day of his life for four solid years by Whumper.

Caretaker slowly sat down in front of his shivering form and scooted close, inches away from where Whumpee had pulled his knees to his chest and was sobbing wretchedly, panicking.

"Sweetheart, I don't know what's happening right now," Caretaker said worriedly. "I was only trying to take off your collar so you could breathe better, it looked so uncomfortable to wear, and you've been here for three weeks without removing it yourself. I only wanted to help -- I didn't mean to startle you. Don't you want to be able to breathe normally again...?

"I don't want to breathe, it's fine, I don't want to breathe," Whumpee wheezed over and over again, like a desperate mantra. But his crying was making it even harder than usual to draw air through his compressed throat, and it felt a lot like he was suffocating. Or like the times when Whumper had lashed out in a fit of rage and choked him out repeatedly. The collar was tight around his neck, digging into his skin with every strained breath he took.

Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @floral-comet-whump

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

[wannabanauthor]

What should happen to BuckTommy in Season 8b

Eddie's thinking about moving to Texas, right?

Well, he has to pack, and he calls his two favorite buff men to help him pack and load all his stuff.

Tommy did not know Buck was going to be there, and vice versa.

They stare awkwardly at each other before noticing that most of Eddie's stuff is already packed.

Cheeky bastard.

He locks them both in his house with the parting, "Figure it the fuck out, then I'll unlock the doors."

Buck and Tommy are more than able to break down the door if necessary, but that wouldn't be a nice thing to do to their best friend's house.

They try to out-wait Eddie, but several hours pass with no communication from him.

Buck is doing his best to not look or talk to Tommy, but all the doors are locked, including the bedrooms, so he's stuck in the living room.

The kitchen doesn't have any baking/cooking ingredients, just prepared food in the fridge.

Buck is without his coping mechanism, and at some point he breaks down crying in the kitchen.

Tommy wants to comfort him, but he knows he's the reason Buck is like this, so he feels stuck and doesn't know what to do.

He hands Buck a tissue and some water, but Buck turns around and ignores him, trying to hide his sobs.

Tommy goes back to the living room and sits on the floor.

"Why?" he hears Buck say.

He gets back up and goes into the kitchen.

"Why what?" Tommy asks.

"Why did you give me a second chance just to break my heart six months later? Why didn't you tell me that you only saw us as a temporary thing? Why did you even give me hope that we could be something more?" Evan asks, in between sobs.

"Evan, I'm so-"

"It's Buck. You don't get to call me Evan anymore."

"I'm sorry."

Buck stops crying and looks at Tommy. There's anger and heartbreak written all over his face.

"Fuck you, you don't get to be sorry," Buck says.

"But I am. I didn't plan any of it. It just happened. You asked me to move in, and I panicked. I've been hurt before, and I knew I couldn't survive it if I moved in and then lost you."

Buck scoffed, but out of irony, not amusement.

Tommy stepped closer to him, and Buck remained where he was, almost as if he was sizing Tommy up.

"You kept putting me on this pedestal, and I knew one day you'd see me for who I am and leave," Tommy says.

"Is that what you think of me? Out of the two of us, you're the one who has left me, twice," Buck points out, and Tommy winces at that.

"You're very impulsive, and we hadn't even broached that topic before. I thought I was okay with you setting the pace, but I guess I wasn't. I thought it was in our best interest to end things now then later when it would hurt more."

Tommy pauses for a moment and looks at Buck. Really looks at him. His own heart breaks when he picks up on the little details of how Buck had been handling the breakup, The flour under his fingernails, his stubble, his longer curls, the bags under his eyes, the fidgeting with what's ever in reach, currently tissues being torn into little bits.

Tommy knows in his heart that he practically broke the man he loves, and it makes him feel even worse. There is still a part of him that wants to run, but he can't run again. Not after seeing Evan like this.

"I'm scared, Evan," Tommy confesses.

Buck's head snaps up in surprise, and he squints his eyes as if he doesn't trust Tommy.

Tommy feels the panic rise within him, but continues his train of thought. "Evan, I love you. But i'm terrified that one day you'll get tired of me and find someone else. It's happened before, and-"

"I'm not him. I'm me. From the first moment we met, I knew that I wanted to be with you. I didn't understand it at first because it felt so different from my past. I mean, you're not the first guy I've had a crush on. At all," Evan says.

Tommy clears his throat uncomfortably. He'd rather not think about Evan's past crushes.

"We spent nearly every free moment we've had together," Evan says. "I thought we were ready to move to the next step."

"I wasn't ready, and I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I should have stayed and talked it out, but it felt like the room was closing in on me, and I needed to leave."

"And you left, then ignored me for weeks," Evan says. "I felt like I was going insane and imagined our whole relationship."

Tommy steps into Evan's space and uses two fingers to lift Evan's chin. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Evan. I love you so much, and I'm terrified because it's never felt like this before."

Evan gives an amused chuckle. "I guess it was my turn to see you at your worst."

Tommy cups Evan's cheeks. "I am so sorry, for everything. I feel like I don't deserve a second chance, but I'm still ask-"

Evan cuts him off with a kiss.

Tommy relaxes and kisses him back. It feels like coming home after a long day of work to the arms of his partner. He never wants that feeling to leave.

"I love you too, asshole," Evan whispers against Tommy's lips.

They both chuckle at that.

"Where do we go from here?" Evan asks.

"Couple's counseling. I want us to work. I want us to be forever," Tommy says and gives Evan the tenderest kiss.

"That works," Evan replies between kisses.

They don't stop kissing or holding each other until they're nearly out of breath.

"Finally!" they hear from outside and jump.

Eddie's standing outside with his phone in hand, and on the screen is a live camera feed showing.

"Now, let's get something to eat," Tommy says and kisses Evan again. He was going to kill and thank Eddie, but for now, he's happy just to be with Evan again.

He looks into Evan's eyes and knows that this is it for him. Evan's the one.

[plurapony]

anti-psychs are fucking idiots

and i find it really REALLY hard to believe that they're mentally ill because anyone i know who is mentally ill would do absolutely anything to get better and there's no better solution than psychiatric care.

Don't get me wrong, society is absolutely fucked and that involves psychiatric care. Even in Australia it's not affordable (I pay way too much for mine) and it's not easily accessible either. There ARE problems but the problems are within the industry not the industry itself.

Let's talk about delusions and psychosis for a moment. They are absolutely fucking terrifying and every second you want them to end. I remember I couldn't walk a 5 minute walk back home because I was too overwhelmed with fear so I waited for what felt like hours sitting in the sun praying my wife would find me and take me back home.

I didn't like being involuntarily admitted due to my psychosis and I sure as hell didn't like the antipsychotics they put me on. It was hell but what I had been through was worse and I just wanted to be okay. I don't blame my wife for helping me be involuntarily committed because psychosis is scary for the people that love you too and I was making serious threats about hurting myself. She was only one person and I wasn't sleeping, she couldn't possibly keep me safe alone.

With everything, you take the good with the bad. In the psych ward I had met a nice older man named Carlos who got thrown in the psych ward by his mother every time he got too annoying. He didn't deserve to be there and he didn't deserve to be stripped of his choice and his rights.

To have constructive conversation and to fight for change there must be nuance involved. Fighting for an absolute while demonizing your opposition is going to get you absolutely nowhere.

By fighting to get rid of psychiatric facilities and psych wards you're not doing anything to the people that run society. Do you really think some rich white man who has it all is gonna give a single shit if therapy exists or not? You're only hurting those who need the service, the mentally ill that are struggling and desperately wanting to get better.

So fight for accessible therapy, fight for affordable therapy, fight for patients right to choose whether they are admitted to psych wards or not. Fight for better psychiatric care don't fight for no psychiatric care.

[IMAGE ID: ponyville is a (pro) endo free zone break dni and get blocked loser! END ID]

[aerkan]

Okay, so, I'm feeling a bit melancholic right now and I, well, I guess I want to share my thoughts in case someone relates or needs to know they're not alone.

I've figured out a few years back that I'm firmly set in the aroace spectrum. I've never had a crush on anyone except for some fictional characters or famous people, but even then the farthest my 'affections' have gotten was a strong urge to offer them a hug, or wanting to hang out and laugh. Which I very quickly found out was the exact same as for my closest friends, just magnified by my excitement of the stories tied to those characters or my joy at hearing the person's jokes.

I've never been interested in sex. At all. I don't like reading about it, I get bored watching it, and the prospect of experiencing it fills me with nothing other than dread and annoyance. That's not to say I'm ignorant about it. I'm not. I know how it works, I know what 'my role' would be should I ever try it. But while all my friends were experimenting with it during our teens I stayed far away from the dating pool. Mostly.

I had my first kiss when I was 17. I felt weird right after because I've read a lot of romantic stories (looking back on it, it wasn't for the romance itself but the emotional closeness between the characters but whatever) and first kisses were meant to be something one should enjoy. Even my friends have said so. However, I felt nothing, only bored. It was my first kiss and I wished I could do something more fun.

So yeah, that didn't click and I spent the whole evening reasearching what the hell was wrong with me (turns out, there was nothing wrong with me). That's how the idea of me being ace took root but I wasn't very sure about it (didn't want to be).

Since then there have been a few more kisses, but nothing to be writing home about. I guess I've been trying to see if anything changed. It didn't. Gradually I had to admit to myself that I'm ace and what that means for me. After the initial shock of the new label I very quickly became comfortable being ace. It fit me and I was happy.

However, well, lately most my friends have started dating. Finding their life partners. My new friends already had lovers, when I met them or are also finding love. And I'm excited for them, really am. But this new development made me confront another part of my identity, which I've been steadily ignoring for years now despite knowing it wasn't exactly the norm.

I'm aromantic! (*throwing confetti*)

I've never experienced romantic love and probably never will. I adore my friends, they are the most important people in my life and I would do a lot of f*cked up things for them to be happy. And for the most part I'm okay with just hanging out with my classmates and seeing my other friends from time to time, making plans to see each other more when we're all free. But I also feel unbearably lonely sometimes. I feel unwanted, ignored and left out simply because I can't offer the same 'normal' conversations. I feel disconnected from society and I desperately long for a partner that would love me, that I could talk to every day, that I could hug and laugh with. Someone, who would be there when I get home, maybe waiting with a good meal or excited to tell me about the new tv show they started watching while I was gone.

Basically, what I'm saying is... I want a roomate. I want someone to live with me but someone who sleeps in a different bed. Someone who would let me cuddle them from time to time when life gets a bit harder than I can bear and someone who would be there when I need a laugh. Someone I can cook with or sing with. I want a friend living with me who wouldn't have that 'special someone'. I want someone who would want the same from me.

And the hardest part about this? Knowing I'm probably never going to have that. These days I live with this terrifying certainty I'm going to die alone and well... I already feel crushingly lonely right now. I can't imagine feeling like this for the rest of my life.

...well, this got really depressing. Wasn't the point, but it is the truth. I love being aroace, I love the warm little feeling I get when I make someone happy or the giddy butterflies in my chest when I make someone laugh. Ultimately, I love being alive to be excited about sharing a smile with a stranger. I would simply prefer if so many of my nights weren't filled with the existentinal dread of being left behind.

Sorry for the ramble guys, have a cute pokemon cause you're awesome!

[turkicgods]

"How do you know? How can you be sure?" Shyngay couldn't help but ask without a moment's hesitation, a sense of urgency to his question. He couldn't imagine a world, or universe, where the sky gods didn't hate him, he'd been trained to believe otherwise for his entire existence and every part of it made sense to him, it all fit into place. But to be told otherwise?

It had to be wrong. Karthisius had to be wrong.

As the other god stood, the Turkic deity instinctively stepped back as if trying to avoid an expectant blow or attack at that very moment. Or at least some sort of goading. Yet nothing came, he stared at him, so uncertain about him, about everything he was experiencing at that moment. "I... was told, but it's what I believe. Why would my father lie to me about it? Lie to us?" The irony was that he hated his father, didn't really trust him, yet he took his and his older siblings' word about their extended family as unquestionable truth. It was all he knew, the very reason he went out of his way to avoid them because he'd been raised to believe they'd smite him, or at least punish him given his invulnerability, without a second thought.

That would be their first reaction to him, wouldn't it? Getting rid of him? Repelling him? Disgust?

"No, I..." It was like the guy was in his head, seeing those doubts, those fears as clear as day and it terrified Shyngay right down to his core. His family had never seen it, how it grew, how it festered within him, that temptation to follow in Matyr's footsteps and walk away from them all entirely. But the truth was -- - he was too scared to do so.

"You can't possibly know that." He tried to deny it, shaking his head from side to side as he felt the muscles in his throat constrict. Even just watching Karthisius approach, every part of the older god tensed, unsure about what was about to happen, instantly presuming the worst. So when his forehead was poked, there was a glimmer of realisation in his eyes that told him he wasn't in immediate danger. But could he really trust that foreign feeling? "It scares me..." He finally admitted, his voice lowering, wavering as the words came out. "The doubt... the consequences that could come from it."

He watches, and that turmoil surfaces once more. IT'S STRANGE to see such familiarity. Such PAIN. He remembers feeling that way as a mortal. True every story had more than one side to it. Every hero was someone's villain and vice versa. Suffice it to say he gives credence to his words with a quiet nod.

"They don't hate you. I know as much to be true. But whether or not that's the point is irrelevant, the only thing that matters is that you are not what someone else expects you to be..."

He rises to his feet now, COAT slung off and resting against the back of his chair as he steps out onto the open grass field. Hands resting on his hips with rolled up sleeves and a relaxed look about him.

"Do you really believe that? Or is that what you're saying because it's what you were told to believe?"

The words are POWERFUL, yet when he speaks them they're as light as air and he hasn't the faintest sound of regret in his tone. He has a sinking suspicion he knows the answer, and whether or not Shyngay was ready to believe it was the question.

"I'll tell you what it is I believe, I believe that you have less clarity in this than you did before. You are carrying around your sins as though they are weights upon your ankles dragging you deeper into the abyss. But above all else, you're now beginning to wonder if perhaps there is MORE to existence than forcing yourself into a mold you didn't ask for."

He glances over his shoulder quietly as the EMERALD MOON makes its appearance known, BATHING the Moon Isles in its verdant glow as Karthisius's crown & eyes come to match it's tint.

"I'm not asking you to forsake anything. Such a leap would be absurd & unrealistic, but you've been alive long enough to understand the value of time & how much it can give you if you allow it. I simply ask that you give it that chance. I think you might find much of that fog in your head clears."

He approaches, hands resting on his hips until he stands face to face with the other god, LITTLE space left between them and index finger gently poking the man's forehead to punctuate his words.

[sciderman]

Sometimes i remember a comics moment i randomly came across somewhere, where Sam Wilson mentiones a musical and Steve Rodgers says he doesn't like musicals, to whitch Sam goes "Guess that means you really are straight" and even tho i don't care about Cap America or the Avengers, the moment stuck in me for that quote by Sam. And like....Sci, any ideas if straight men actually don't like musicals or is that bullshit?

actually i think i know more gay men who hate musicals than i know straight men who hate musicals. i've had a drag queen stop me point blank when i was about to sing a barbra streisand song, and i know so many gays who pointedly hate abba. so based on my experience i think the inverse is true. most of the straight men i know are kind of impartial about musicals, but gay men? hate.

my theory is that a lot of gay men don't want to fall into stereotypes, maybe. but thaaaaat's just a theory! a gay theory.

[novadreii]

rewatched arrival for the hundredth time. this movie never fails to gut punch me with its approach to determinism. louise embracing her future that she knows every moment of, despite the tremendous loss and pain it contains, with open arms. she doesn't hesitate, or ruminate on how she can try and change it. she accepts it all, the good and the bad, because what she gains is worth it, so many times over for her. she steels herself against a certain future and runs forward to meet it all, to love, learn, and lose, and trusts and leans on herself to live through it all. because that's what life is; it's the joy and the suffering. to try and isolate the joy alone is madness, futility in its purest definition.

comparing her line of thinking to a palindrome (how she named her daughter, hannah), the movie kept emphasizing, "it's the same backwards as it is forwards." it doesn't matter if you can see the end; life is the same whether you live it "forwards" (without knowledge of the future) or "backwards" (with foresight). it doesn't change the significance of your life experiences; to try and avoid certain future pain just because you have the knowledge of it is a zero sum game. you think you win because you avoided pain, but you also avoided the joy that preceded it. the metamorphosis. so you still lose if you try to win, and vice-versa.

all you can do is rush forward and take it all head-on. see this whole beautiful mess as your one most precious gift; this one life, this one chance, a laughably miniature blip on the colossus that is linear time, to experience all there is to feel before you return back to an eternity without perception. it's all worth it, because only in living a full-fledged life open to everything it has to offer does the experience of living turn out to be greater than the sum of its parts; it's in trying to beat the system (avoid pain) that we actually lose.

"if you could see your whole life from start to finish, would you change things?"

"maybe i'd say what i feel more often. i...i don't know."

[trans-rights-coastalmangoes]

i need white women to fucking stop

[pilot-boi]

( @pilot-boi Only way I figure out how to gift this post to you.)

Original Image/Artist @pilot-boi

I know we’re in Mafia Mode, but I am thinking about Them

==> Short Inspired by Above Image by @novankenn<==

Jaune had always been told if you held someone in your heart, they were never truly gone. He really hoped that was the case, because in his fragmenting thoughts he was afraid, terrified of forgetting her. Of loosing the one more than real connection with her. The kiss they shared had been their first, and heartbreakingly their last. Yet the feeling of her lips was like an ethereal dream. One Jaune wished he would never wake from.

Even though he was with Ren and Nora, camping at Yang and Ruby's place, Jaune still felt lost and alone. They were waiting for Ruby to awaken, if she ever did to make a decision. Do they pursue the one lead they have about Cinder and her team? Or do they follow the example of other teams like CFVY and transfer to one of the other academies to continue their training?

Jaune as much as he wanted to hurt Cinder. To make her feel the pain he was sure the psychotic bitch had caused Pyrrha, he also wanted to gather more support. Cinder had bested Ozpin and Pyrrha, in single combat. They need more manpower. That was the only way he could see them getting a win.

"Chilly." Jaune commented to himself near the forested edge of the Xiao Long homestead. Crossing his arms over his chest, he started to rub his upper arms, trying to get some heat back in them.

He started to rub his arms with more vigor, as his shoulders were suddenly flooded with a bone deep chill. He looked about, checking the tree branches to see if there was a breeze. There was no movement. The air was as still as a grave.

"What the hell?" Jaune muttered seeing his breath before his eyes. That wasn't right. It was summer. There is no way the air was that cold. At least not naturally.

Jaune glanced about him, trying to pinpoint the source. His mind racing through the old stories, and folk lore his grandmother used to try and teach them as children.

"This is crazy..." Jaune whispered, before clearing his throat, to speak with a clear voice. "Pyrrha?"

A sudden bone chill invaded him. Wrapping about him as if he was being embraced in a hug from behind. Jaune's breath came in short gasps.

"I'm sorry." Jaune whimpered out, as tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough, that I let..."

"No Jaune." It was so soft that he could barely hear it. "It wasn't your fault."

The feeling of bone biting cold fell away and Jaune turned. His sorrow filled azure eyes suddenly regain some of their spark. He could see her.

"I never wanted to hurt you..." Pyrrha spoke, her voice was like the whisper of the gentlest breeze, but Jaune heard it. Tears still rolled down his cheeks, but the barest hint of his normal smile was upon his face, and his shattered heart at least felt partially patched.

"I miss you so much." Jaune whispered, unable to do anything but look upon the wispy, translucent form of his partner.

"I miss you." Pyrrha responded, a soft smile on her lips, "I'm never leaving you side again."

AHHHHHH MY HEART