#ANYWAYS SORRY. THANKS FOR COMMISERATING WITH ME.

[namisweatheria]

@talolly's tags: #yeah this is why sanji will never be one of my faves or even top five strawhats#like sanji is such a well written and fantastic character#except for this aspect and unfortunately is one that i cant look past when i thimk of him overall#and it never should have gotten this bad and he definitely should have gotten development by now#but he wont#and even if he does#i fear it will be too late to appreciate the changes#and i feel especially resentful because nami is my favorite#and i think hes at his worst when it involves her#and that stifles a lot of nami moments or stories#cause hes got to be her knight or prince charming#or she has be part of his perverted gag

YES THIS. God I keep rereading this post and feeling a little embarrassed because this is just a basic concept to be explaining to people and I'm really willingly and repeatedly spending time in a space where it needs to be said. Which is. Embarrassing.

However I love One Piece so much! I love connecting with other fans who also love Nami! So no amount of fans who are too emotionally immature to handle both loving and criticizing, or who are so desensitized to the sexism that they start defending Sanji as not sexist or even the female character designs (I have actually seen this! In a popular post!) will make me leave this fandom. But. Woof.

So glad for my other shounen lover-sufferers😭 handshake🤝

You can defend Sanji’s reasons for treating women the way he does all you want, obviously there is a clear sympathetic angle to view him from, (that I am not immune to!) but that cannot change the fact that he never consistently treats women as regular people, and that is sexist.

Being obsessed with them before knowing them based only on appearance, ignoring what they’re actually saying in favor of believing his single-minded fantasies, constantly trying to play a Prince Charming role with them, which necessarily attempts to place them in a Damsel role whether that accurately reflects their situation and personality or not, being unable to interact with them (if they’re beautiful) without flirting, attempting to invade their privacy and personal space, there’s no reason that can make any of this not sexist.

I’m also amused by how pathetic he is, I also enjoy and appreciate how he’s the butt of these jokes, I also care about the traumas that made him the way he is. I appreciate the kindness and silliness central to his character. I appreciate and enjoy his character development in one of these respects. But none of that makes his constant treatment of women not othering and grating, or compels me to defend him.

There’s this weird glamorizing of his behavior as that of a “hopeless romantic”, which is, you know, clearly true, but not an acceptable reason to treat women as differently as he does. Nor is being a traumatized misandrist who is obsessed with protecting women from the men he hates. There’s no good reason to treat an entire population as an Other the way he does. The fact that it’s a “positive” treatment doesn’t make it less sexist.

I can’t emphasis enough I’m glad there are compelling reasons that make him that way, and I often enjoy his character despite these things, but that’s not going to make me pretend he’s not sexist. I wish that people were more comfortable enjoying characters without defending them from obviously true criticism. It’s okay to love Sanji and also acknowledge he is sexist! We can do both!

[izzyspussy]

my sister is telling my dad the story of last night and they are hard core both sidesing it. "well, you know, she doesn't take apologies well..." 1. that's her fucking problem not mine. 2. that doesn't have any fucking bearing on the two and a half hours straight of transphobic talk. 3. not taking an apology well is one thing, telling someone they're "lucky" you're not assaulting them when they say they're sorry for being a bit rude is actually a totally different thing LOL!

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I keep rereading the overprotective poly marauders fic I love it sm 🫶 can I please request another one it can tie into casual dominance marauders if you want I don’t mind I just can’t get them off my mind. Thanks babe!!

Hi lovely!! So this went a bit off the rails, I had different intentions for it at first but then somehow it became very serious and the boys not so much overprotective as reasonably upset....all in all, I'm not super happy with it but I didn't want to throw it out, I'd be happy to write another overprotective one for you if you'd like!

cw: sexual assault

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You walk out of your office feeling odd and off-kilter. Your mind seems addled, unable to complete one thought before jumping to the next, and something prickles just underneath your skin that feels like anger and shame and also like panic. 

Your boyfriends are waiting for you, idling at the curb. You’re supposed to go straight from here to the cinema, and you tell yourself you’ll feel better afterwards. Even if not, you have until Monday before you have to deal with this, if you deal with it at all. You may not. You’re not sure. You can’t think straight. 

“Hey, angel,” James says as you get in, and it’s immediately obvious your upset has already been noticed. Probably as soon as you walked outside, your boyfriends observing you through the car windows. Remus, in the driver’s seat, and Sirius, sitting beside you in the back, are both charily silent. “How was work?” 

“It was fine,” you reply. Your voice sounds off even to your own ears, but no one comments as Remus puts the car in drive. 

“Ready for the weekend?” James imbues his voice with a light sort of commiseration. You try to smile for him. 

No one is more surprised than you when a sob chokes you instead. You hide your face in your hands, tears already leaking out from between your lashes. 

“God, sorry.” 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sirius asks, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for you.

Remus pulls into a parking spot just by the exit and shuts off the engine, turning around in his seat.

“Baby.” Sirius wraps his arm around your shaking shoulders, squeezing tight. He sounds anxious. “Did something happen?” 

The worst of your crying passes like a summer storm, over as quickly as it started. Your emotions gone haywire. You lean into Sirius, and he clicks the buckle on your seatbelt for you, pulling you the rest of the way. 

“You’re scaring me,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline. “Tell us why you’re upset, angel, please.” 

“I think,” you mumble, face and eyes burning, “my boss grabbed my butt.” 

You say it quieter than a whisper, but you know they’ve all heard. The silence that follows is so complete you could hear a pin drop. 

“What?” James asks. His throat sounds dry. 

You hear Remus sigh. “Oh, sweetheart.” The vinyl of his seat squeaks as he shifts. “When did this happen?” 

“Just now,” you answer. 

“Right.” Sirius’ arms had gone tense around you, but now they fall away completely. He moves for his door. “I’ll be back.” 

“Don’t,” you plead. You worry he will anyway, but Remus locks the doors from the front seat. 

Sirius cuts a glare his way, truly scary with the way wrath seems to gleam in his gray irises. He unlocks his door manually, and Remus locks it again. 

“We can’t be rash,” he says, his own tone sharper than you think is intended for anyone in the car. “We have to think this through.” 

“What’s there to think about?” Sirius snaps. James reaches behind his seat, taking your hand and rubbing comfortingly. “He’s just inside!” 

“You think I don’t want to go in there too?” Remus gives him a look that’s a short fall from incredulous. “But if we have to call the police, it won’t help if you’ve already had a go at him.” 

Your head spins. You hadn’t even thought of calling the police. You hadn’t really gotten past going to the cinema. 

“What do you mean, you think he grabbed you, sweetheart?” James' voice is pointedly kinder than the others. Remus takes a deep breath, calming himself. 

“I don’t know. I just—I feel like I can’t be sure—” 

“That’s alright.” Remus' voice is slower now. Soothing. “Why don’t you tell us how it happened?” 

“I, um.” You swallow. James strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “I was looking at something on his computer, because he said he wasn’t getting my emails and I thought they might be going to his spam. He was sitting behind me in his chair, and we were talking and his hand, like, squeezed—” you shudder, your brain trying to shake off the memory “—and then he just kept talking like nothing happened. It was so fast I’m not sure it even did—” 

“Baby.” 

You don’t realize you’re tripping over your words until Sirius’ voice cuts through them. You look at him, and his eyes are already on yours, fierce but solid. 

“Did you feel him touch you?” he asks. 

You rub your lips together. “Yeah,” you murmur. 

Your boyfriend’s expression pinches, but his gaze is steady. “Then he did. Trust yourself. You know what happened.” 

This provokes another wave of tears, less tempestuous than the first but somehow more painful. You wouldn't have expected any one of your boyfriends to blame you, not if you’d thought about it, but you haven’t had time to think yet and the relief that they’re so wholly on your side makes your heart feel cracked open. 

“Dove, I’m so sorry,” Remus says. He’s frowning, a well-worn line etched between his brows. You hate to put it there. “What do you want to do? Do you know if you can contact HR?” 

“I don’t know,” you admit, pliable to Sirius’ ministrations as he tucks you securely under one arm and uses the other to thumb at your salty cheeks. “I feel a bit silly. It was a small thing, I don’t think it’s worth a bunch of fuss.” 

“It’s not a small thing,” says James, uncharacteristically severe. “It’s a big thing—a really fucked up thing, that he did—and it’s worth a lot of fuss. A lot.” He leans around his seatback, pressing a firm kiss to your hand. “It’s just a matter of how much fuss you’re willing to go through with, sweetheart. It’s up to you. We can go through HR, we can go to the police. There’s still the option of just going in there and roughing him up to be sure it doesn’t happen again.” He smiles wryly. It looks like it takes effort. “I’m very game for that option. We know Sirius is ready.” 

Sirius makes an affirming humph sound against the side of your head. You try to smile back at James. 

“I think maybe…HR?” Your voice is tentative. “I have a friend, Marcella, who I think would be nice about it.” You realize as it comes out of your mouth what a low bar that is, but that’s the reality of your situation. 

“Do you know if she’s still here?” Remus asks. 

You feel your brow wrinkle. “I think so…” 

Remus unlocks the doors, and James gets out. You barely manage to squeak out a “Wait” before the door shuts behind him. 

You turn to Remus. “Where’s he going?” 

“To find Marcella,” he says. “It’s better that they know when it’s just happened, dovey, but you don’t have to deal with it right now. That’s why James is going instead.” 

You nod. It makes sense, even if the reality of it all makes tears press at your throat again. 

“My sweet girl.” Sirius holds you tight, mashing a kiss into the side of your head. “I’m so sorry this happened, baby. I’m sorry we weren’t there to protect you.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you murmur, turning in his arms to hug him properly. He seems pleased with this development, and squeezes you ferociously. “You can’t always be with me. And it’s not your responsibility.” 

“Careful what you say.” Sirius seems to muster up some humor, a teasing edge to his tone. “I’ll get us one of those big shirts so the four of us can fit in it together, and then you’ll never be rid of us.” 

“It’s our job to look after you,” says Remus, firm but kind. “It’s true we can’t be with you all of the time, but I’m glad you felt comfortable telling us this. Thank you, sweetheart.” 

You’re about to dismiss his thanks when James gets back in the car, this time in the back seat instead of the front. 

“Did you see him?” Sirius asks immediately, scooching the both of you over to make room. 

“No, he must’ve left right after her.” James looks unhappy, but his touch is gentle as always as he takes your waist in both hands, easing you off of Sirius’ lap and into the seat between them. Sirius sighs but doesn’t complain, likely knowing he’s had more than his fair share of your comfort. 

“Marcella was nice, though,” James says. “She arranged for you to have the morning off on Monday, and she’ll call you then to hear from you what happened. We can be with you, if you like.” 

“Monday.” You blow out a slow breath, though it doesn’t do much to keep your throat from contracting in panic. “Okay, that sounds good. Thank you.” 

“No worries, angel.” James rubs your thigh, watching you carefully. “You doing okay?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” Your voice squeaks, and you cover your eyes with a hand. Sirius whines and kisses your shoulder. You try to laugh, but it comes out wet. “I think this might just keep happening for a while.” 

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Remus coos, reaching out a hand to set on the top of your head. He scratches at your scalp with his fingernails the way he knows you like. “It makes sense to be upset. We’ll get you through this, alright? Let us look after you for a bit.” 

[dreamwatch]

Exposure

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #24 - Prompt: Behind The Scenes | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: scars, ableism, facial differences seen negatively by others (a photographer) | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, photoshoots

It was inevitable, honestly.

Their first professional photoshoot, not just Matty’s brother, Brian, with the family Pentax, shooting in black and white because it’s ���artistic.’ Usually they didn’t put photographs on the flyers, just their logo, but once they moved to Indy a couple of independent labels came for a sniff of the goods and they wanted photos. Thank you, Brian, your services to photography will be forever remembered.

Once they were signed though, the label wanted professional photographs, which was fair, because honestly Gareth’s garage didn’t make the sexiest back drop. So anyway, here they were in a studio in Indianapolis getting their photographs taken, with a real professional photographer.

He doesn’t know a lot about this kind of gig, but he knows guys on TV get their makeup done all the time on account of the lights making their faces shiny, so at first it’s like, whatever. But then they’ve got them all lined up, real Metal Hammer pose, cloudy blue and gray backdrop like some extreme high school portrait, and the photographer is eyeballing him. Like hard stares. And he’s not looking him in the eye. He’s looking at his cheek.

Then the guy’s in a huddle with the makeup artist, and she’s looking at him and the photographers looking at him, and now they’ve got the assistant there. 

“What the fuck is the hold up,” whispers Gareth, and the boys mutter but Eddie says nothing because he knows. He knows and he’s dying a little inside.

Then the huddle is broken, and they’re getting moved around and now Eddie’s facing a different direction (‘we can just flip the neg’) but that’s not working for them either, and the studio lights are getting dimmed on his side, and his heart is racing, and the makeup girl is in his face, “Sorry,” she says, and she’s being gentle, likes she’s trying to be respectful, but she’s painting this shit on his face, on his neck, and he can see the shock, the way her eyes go wide when she starts to move the collar of his shirt and she realises it goes further down and that’s it—

“Can you—“ he snaps, ducking backwards.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” she says all sheepish and apologetic, and she probably means it but he doesn’t care, he’s done, he wants out.

The photographer wraps it up, and he’s talking but Eddie’s not listening, he’s gone, out to the Jeff’s car waiting by the door, but they’re up in the studio playing rockstars, like they’re not driving to gigs in shitty vans, and he’s had it actually, fuck this.

He walks for an hour and then stops at Molly’s and has a few beers. And it feels stupid, at this point, like he’s over reacting, it’s a scar, and they’re in the image industry, and of course they’ll try to hide it. So what? So fucking what?

It’s dark when he finally comes up for air and heads back to their dank little apartment. The guys do that thing where they’re being casual but watching him out of the corner of their eye, but he shoos them away, he’s fine, thanks, nothing to worry about. Gets himself a sandwich and then goes to his room to sleep the day off.

He’s half asleep when he hears his door click, the dip of the bed as someone sits down. He opens his eyes, checks his watch, it’s a little after two in the morning, and when he flips over in the bed Steve Harrington is sitting next to him.

“Heard you had a day.”

“Who called you?” he asks.

Steve kicks his shoes off and slides up the bed, back against the headboard. 

“Gareth. He told me what happened. It fucking sucks.”

Eddie sits up, pulls himself next to Steve. “You drove all the way here to commiserate with me on my sucky day?”

“I drove all the way here to make sure you were okay,” Steve says, like it’s nothing, like Eddie can’t feel his heart squeezing tight at the words.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, needs to process it, what to say.

“I just wasn’t expecting it you know? Which is fucking stupid, and all, but you know, when have I ever been known for my smarts?” he jokes, half assed, because none of this is funny. “It’s just… like, it was so… they looked at me like, how do we fix this? How do we make this go away? Like I was ruining the shoot with my…” he gestures to his cheek, to the jagged red scar that runs all the way down his neck.

Steve listens, because he’s good at that, doesn’t butt in even when you know he’s trying to think of ways of fixing everything.

“And like the thing is, if we make it, it’s gonna be a thing you know? It won’t be the last time.”

Eventually Steve chips in. “I know mine are easier to hide, so I don’t like, know how it is, exactly, but… but people see them and then they’ll forget about them. People look out of curiosity, you can’t stop that, but then they just, they’re not bothered, you know? Like, your fans—“

“Fans?’ Eddie scoffs.

“Yeah, fans! They’re not gonna give a fuck, man. I know that doesn’t really help, not right now, but…  I think it’ll get easier.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Eddie says under his breath. He rolls his head to the side, making eye contact for the first time.

Steve kicks his jeans off and they climb under the covers, Steve’s back against his.

“You know when you’re rich and famous, first thing you need to do is get a bigger bed. This is ridiculous.”

Eddie can’t help himself, lets the giggles take him, feels Steve’s arm wrap around his waist and pull him close. He finds himself being infinitely grateful to his friends for knowing what he needed, and infinitely grateful for Steve Harrington.

[kay-elle-cee]

Okay @sunshinemarauder and @athenasparrow, I believe you both requested silence and patience, pining in anticipation from the Taylor prompt list, so here you go!

Read here on ao3 or under the cut!

“It’s been a shit few months, that’s for sure,” Sirius commiserates, sloshing his third glass of firewhiskey.

James throws a shot back, grimacing. “Thanks,” he deadpans.

“Cheer up, mate.” Sam slides another shot across the table. “You’re better off. I mean…four months and she just moves onto the reserve Chaser after your injury? Fuck her.”

Lily’s quiet, nodding and agreeing with the pair of them. She could add to it…but it might be damning, so she doesn’t. It’s when Sam and Sirius leave to get a new round of drinks, levitating the empties away, that she gets pulled in.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“No I’m not.”

“Go on,” James prods, a bitter smile curling his lips. “I know you never really cared much for Amy.”

“It’s not that I didn’t—“ The liquor has been flowing too much tonight and those damn eyes of his are fully on her and she almost admits something. She clears her throat as a cover for her interruption. “I guess I just sensed it wasn’t right.”

He sighs, leaning back in chair. “It’s more of a bruise to my ego than anything “

“Oh, we can’t have that.” Her lips quirk up as she takes another sip of her drink, and with his head thrown back and attention off her, she allows herself to look at him. A pang of sadness wraps its way around her heart.

She was with Dirk by the time she realized what she wanted from James. And she had tried to push that down, truly. And when things eventually crumbled, James was…well, he was enjoying his newly minted stardom, and she couldn’t fault him for that.

Lily had told herself that she wasn’t waiting for him, but after three years of half-hearted relationships and a few one night stands, it was painfully obvious (hopefully only to her) that she was just…undoubtedly hung up on James Potter.

“I think I’m done with the whole…dating thing. For a while anyway.”

This pulls her out of her mind, his head snapping up and gaze meeting hers. She blinks. “Oh?”

“Haven’t really been quite successful, have I?”

“Four months is nothing to sneeze at,” she shrugs.

“I suppose. It’s longer than anything you’ve had.”

She offers him a soft, sad smile. It stings, but more for her unsaid feelings than for any of the men who had wandered in and out of her life.

James’ face pales as his brain catches up to his mouth. “Shit. Sorry. It’s the firewhiskey. I didn’t mean to be an arse.”

“You’re not wrong.” Downing the rest of her drink, Lily pushes the glass away only to have James grab her hand.

“Right or not, I shouldn’t have said that.” His thumb brushes against her skin, making her a little breathless, and his eyes almost implore her to hear him. “I’m sorry, Lil.” There’s a fluttering sensation in her stomach, and she finds she has to look away.

“So no more dating, huh?”

“I think…” he trails, staring at somewhere near their hands, “I’ve just been attracting women who were attracted to my status, not to me, you know?”

“I mean, yeah.” James’ attention snaps to her quizzically. “Could you not…see that? Hanging over you when the press was around, anytime we were in public, but being more aloof in private? Using your name to get you into bars and clubs? And I know you made up this whole story about why you stopped bringing women by the manor—”

“Didn’t want to get mum and dad’s hopes up…” he mutters.

“It’s because of how greedily they looked at everything, and we both know it. Sirius and Remus, too,” she throws in for good measure.

“Merlin, was it that obvious?”

“Yes. Did you really not see it?”

“I mean, I must’ve. I’m—I know I’ve taken my fair share of bludgers to the head but I got seven N.E.W.T.s, I’m not a dumb bloke.”

“No one would ever call you dumb. Maybe oblivious sometimes, but not dumb.” She slides her hand out from under his with much mental protest, drumming her nails on the rim of her empty glass.

“But I don’t know…I guess I just thought I’d lean into the spotlight a bit. Maybe it’s what I thought came with the territory.” There’s a mix of sadness and bitterness in his voice. “But I guess that’s all gone to pot now, with the shoulder injury and all.”

“They’re keeping you on ‘til the end of the season though, right?”

“They’ve got to, it’s in my contract.”

“Well then you have time to figure things out,” Lily smiles. “You’ve got those seven N.E.W.T.s after all, and the family business. And the relationship thing…it’ll come. Your fame doesn’t matter; you’ll find someone who is mad about the real you. Don’t lose hope.”

“Don’t think I’m in danger of that with you around.” He flashes her a smile that’s equal parts warm and sarcastic, and fully makes her stomach flip. His eyes sweep her face for a moment before he drops his head back, face towards the ceiling with his eyes closed. “Of course you’re right. You’re always right.” He lets out a humorless laugh.

Unbidden, an image of a younger Lily flits into her mind, shouting by a lake.

“Not always.”

“Yes always. You’re not afraid to call me on my shit, Evans, and I love that about you. Even when it’s embarrassingly public.” He laughs quietly again, sliding a hand down his face, and Lily wonders how their minds immediately jumped to the same incident. “Merlin, d’you remember you once called me a toerag in front of half the bloody school before swearing off of me? I could never bring myself to be mad, though—you were right and I was being a little shit.”

“I didn’t”—she licks her lips nervously, battling a hysterical rise of laughter—“swear off of you.”

“Sure you did. Rather go out with the Giant Squid, wasn’t it?”

All the noise around them in the pub has died away. Now it’s only the two of them…and a high-pitched sort of ringing in Lily’s ears.

“That was me turning you down then. Not…forever.”

His head snaps up and their eyes meet—his nestled under a furrowed brow, swirling dark and molten, the brightness of the light honey flecks twinkling in the deep green. It’s as though the air around her has grown thinner, her lungs having to work twice as hard to breathe.

“What’re you—“

“Fucking finally!” Sirius exclaims, collapsing into his seat as Sam levitates a new tray of drinks—several shots and some tankards of butterbeer for winding down the night—onto the table.

“Bartender was making puppy eyes at a hen party and I thought this one here was going to lose his mind if it took another minute,” Sam laughs, pushing two shots over to Sirius.

Lily hears them, but doesn't really register anything. No, she and James are still caught in a magnetizing stare across the table, furrowed brow giving way to something shocked as understanding dawns. She wants to look away, wants to hide the blush of mortification that’s crawling up her neck at her clunky confession, but she can’t.

Three years of playing it mostly cool, down the drain.

But still, there’s something in those eyes that doesn’t let her heart crash and burn. There’s something there, accompanied by the subtle upward curve of his lips, that makes her stomach tremble with anticipation.

Hope.

[sirianasims]

After the main course, Paul went to the kitchen to get the dessert ready before midnight. I excused myself and said I needed some fresh air.

I had been to Del Sol Valley a few times when I was little, visiting my grandparents, but I didn’t remember much about the city itself.

The back of Paul’s mansion was the only thing not surrounded by fences, and the view was both breathtaking and terrifying. Bright lights as far as the eye could see, occasional premature fireworks going off, faint background noise from traffic that never stopped.

It felt like we were gilded birds in a cage up here, always on display yet forever out of reach.

I couldn’t imagine anything further from Copperdale and the quiet, snow-covered forests around it.

I wondered if Paul would expect me to move in with him at some point. I didn’t see how he’d be able to work from anywhere else. I could work wherever, but could I live here? Surrounded by fences and cameras and security guards in a huge, empty house?

I pushed the thought away as I heard the clacking of heels behind me.

“Julia, can I talk to you for a moment?”, Sierra asked softly. “I would really like to apologise for what I said earlier. It was never my intention to insult you.”

“I know you didn’t mean it like that, but I still can’t help feeling that you don’t like me very much. Or maybe you just don’t think I’m good enough for Paul?”

Sierra bit her lip.

“I shouldn’t have brought up his exes, especially not in front of you. The thing is, they rarely lasted long enough for the media to catch on – half the time I didn’t even get to meet them before he ended things. So when Paul first told us about you, I got worried. I saw him falling harder and faster than ever before, but you’re so much younger than him and I was struggling to see how it could possibly end well.”

“Right. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m just being honest with you. I tend to be, perhaps, overly protective of Paul. He was even younger than you when we met, we shared a shitty apartment with a few other aspiring actors, all trying to break through. We cheered each other on, audition after audition, practicing lines, commiserating over rejection letters… And then he got the call for Llama Man, and I ended up as an extra in a cop series which later got me the lead in Cop & Llama, but I’ve fought hard to escape that, branch out to other roles, and Paul just… didn’t even try.”

“But he says he prefers the voice acting, though. If you’re his friend, why do you keep pushing him if he’s perfectly happy?”

“Because I’m his friend. Sure, he says he’s happy. Maybe he even believes it. But Paul was always the best of us, and he never took his talent seriously. He’s a great voice actor, but it always felt like he secretly wanted more, he’s just scared. What if he sucked? The media would have a field day, writing about how he should just stick to his cartoons. You’ve seen what they’re like, you just had your first front page. Which, by the way, must be rough. I’m sorry for adding to the stress you must be under right now. Can we maybe start over?”

“Apology accepted, I’m too much of a fangirl to be mad at you anyway. And I’m managing, but I must say, being on the cover of a magazine is a lot less fun than advertised.”

“Trust me, it depends heavily on the kind of magazine. But being hung out to dry by some gossip rag is a rite of passage in this business. You should have seen the frenzy when rumours about me and Dave started circulating. It was wild. I once walked out of an interview because they asked me if the llama costume stayed on during sex!”

“Well? Did it ever?”

Sierra grinned.

“No way – do you have any idea how heavy and warm that costume is? It’s not exactly a sexy superhero muscle suit, it’s a full size sports mascot.”

“True. Although I’m not sure I’d appreciate it if Paul kept his costume on either.”

We both laughed, and I barely registered the steps behind me before I felt Pauls arms around me, his warm hands covering my eyes.

“Guess who.”

I heard Sierra chuckle. “Actually, Paul, we were kinda busy out here, bonding over the trials of dating men in llama costumes. It’s a very exclusive club.”

“I guess Dave and I have to start our own club then. But it's almost midnight and I would like to borrow my girlfriend, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine, you can have her back. I’ll just go get myself one of those fruit tarts before Lee and Dave eat them all.”

She walked back inside without waiting for a response.

She wouldn’t have gotten one anyway.

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[whenwewereyoung97]

Hiiii! I just finished reading Fourth Wing and Iron Flame and I'm looking for some blogs that mainly post that. Do you maybe have some recommendations?

Hiii! Welcome to the club!

I’m sorry it took this long to respond. Tbh I’m still getting used to the idea of asks, and that people value my bookish opinions enough to ask me 🥹 so thank you for that!

Anyway, these are some of my favorites (though they don’t all exclusively post FW content):

@jmoonjones has some of my favorite FW art (their Storytime With Andarna has my entire heart).

@incorrect-fourthwing, @stupidlybookish and @angstywaifu have nailed the concept of incorrect quotes.

Also a huge fan of @violencewithwings, @wingleaderriorson and @intairnwetrust.

Special shoutout to my Tumblr bestie, who is my favorite person to share theories with, rant to about toxic fans, and just get excited and commiserate with - @unyieldingwings.

[transfaguette]

I was gonna say "I hope you have a nice day", just as... you know, a little nice anon ask... use the feature how it ought to be used, but it's pretty obvious that's not where things are so I'll commiserate instead

That whole bank thing is just sick. I got a credit union, so they try and start charging fees if I don't make transactions for too long, but man yours is so much worse. That's just vile. It literally ought to be illegal. It's your money, what give anyone the right to take it just cause you aren't using it a certain way?

Also I'm real sorry about the chronic pain. I've had a few friends over the years who've had chronic pain (and maybe I do too... I can't really tell, cause... it's just how my body feels, how much pain is it? ...I don't know)

Everything they ever dealt with, from doctors, to never quite managed pain even at the best of times... it's a rough deal

I hope you have a lot of low pain days in your future, that your flare ups are minimal and infrequent

The world's a mess, we live in a broken system which makes it hard to live. So things are rough right now just cause they're legit hard, not cause of any failing on your end

I mean look at the society we've created, where people with no money have to pay large sums of money, to get access to programs to help deal with the fact they don't have any money

People like you and me... we'll do what we can to try and make it a bit better... there's probably not a lot in our power, but we do what we can... it's just a hard time to be alive, and it's probably always been a hard time to be alive, but for me at least... all you can do is try and make it less hard for the other people... try to make a dent so many some day it won't be a hard time to be alive

Anyway sorry about the weird, long ask. Like I said... I just... I wanted to say something nice to you, just a little nice message, but... it would have felt tone deaf seeing the things you've got going on

So instead I decided on weird but candid

I do hope you have a good day soon. Some way, some how, I hope things go good for you

...in the meantime though, that sucks, you're dealing with bullshit and you shouldn't have to be. I hope what can get better gets better soon, and I hope what can't drops to minimal levels

Regardless, take care

this is such a lovely ask, thank you <3 I wouldn’t have thought it was tone deaf to just wish me a nice day, but I really appreciate the thoughtfulness here. it did make my day better :)

[carlos-in-glasses]

Commiseration Monday

Thank you for the tag @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut (and the idea!), @reyesstrand @theghostofashton @lemonlyman-dotcom @heartstringsduet @catanisspicy @alrightbuckaroo ❤️

The rules: While Ao3 is temporarily down, share a little something from a WIP to keep us going through the downtime! Preferably something we haven’t shared before, but whatever works for you!

Please have some Owen and TK time from a WIP (that in my head is called Flashback Fic), which expands on my fic Chasers.

Owen leads TK into the kitchen and sits him at the breakfast bar. "I'm going to make you a spring smoothie, and then you're going to tell me what's up. Is it about your mom? Or did you and Carlos have a fight?"

"I wish," TK says.

"What does that mean?"

"A fight is simple. This is way more complicated." TK shakes his head. A fight would also mean make up sex later, so there are certain pros. "And what is a spring smoothie?"

"Spinach, apples, almond milk, basil, chicory, arugula, fenugreek, and bananas of course."

"Of course."

"Don't knock it until you try it." Owen smiles. "And talk to me."

TK watches his father practically dance around the kitchen, gathering ingredients – and it rocks him, because no matter what’s going on in his life, Owen is always there to make smoothies and talk. He thinks of himself coming out at fourteen. Gay bashed behind the bleachers at fifteen. An addict at seventeen. At twenty-six, relapsing after a failed marriage proposal. Overdosing on his apartment floor. But within all of it, for his whole life, love knelt by his side in the form of his mom and dad.

"Last night, I was in a bad way."

“After that call?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were. Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I don’t know. But Carlos called Cooper, and Cooper came over, and we talked it out. But when Carlos came home, I told him about, um–” Deep breaths. Deep, steady. “I admitted I almost relapsed the day after mom died.”

Owen stills, hugging two green, shiny apples in his hands like they’re precious. “Did he react badly.”

“No. I kind of freaked out. Kind of cried all over him.”

Owen smiles, sets the apples down and picks up a paring knife. “I’m familiar with your style.”

“Yeah. Well. At the risk of crying all over you and probably Buttercup right now, I keep thinking about you.”

"Me?" Owen asks, flattered but confused.

"And mom. And everything I put you through."

Owen looks at him seriously. Then he opens a drawer to retrieve a second small paring knife that matches one he already holds. He places it onto a thick wooden chopping board next to the two green apples and pushes it across the breakfast bar towards TK. "Wash your hands and help me make this," Owen says.

TK gets up, doing what he's asked without question, smiling to himself because he's a paramedic and doesn't need to be told to wash his hands before food prep, but they've gone back in time to his childhood, when Owen would tell him important things about life while engaging him in something practical. When TK was twelve, Owen came over to TK's new apartment with Gwyn on Canal Street and helped strip orange floral wallpaper from TK's room. While working away at the tired old flowers, which an elderly lady had once loved, Owen gave TK the sex talk. It was hetero in focus, but even then it was like Owen was nudging TK to tell him to stop if he wanted, if it didn't apply to him, or if he needed to discuss it in a different way.

TK shunted his wallpaper scraper up and down to remove a patch with particularly firm adhesive, taking a little plaster away with it.

"Anyway, if there's anything you need to know, or just want to know – if you're ever curious or upset or you have feelings for someone, I'll always want to talk to you about it. You don't need to be worried or shy."

"Okay," TK said, "Can I have some lemonade now?"

When TK cores the first apple, his hands begin to shake. He has to put the knife down. "Dad."

"TK."

"I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry."

Owen looks at his tearful son understandingly. He takes the apple from him, finishes slicing it, and waits for TK to carry on.

I'm late to this so I'm just going to tag @ladytessa74 because I was going to read your new fic tonight :( Otherwise this is an open tag to anyone who wants to do it - please genuinely take it as a tag and tag me back if you post!

[swampstew]

Hello...

May I request a law x reader but law is like horny but tired (👉👈)?

Reader helping him out ✨by topping him✨

Fem!reader, too.

Thank you <3

Hi @lucci204 ~ I love this concept, sleepy Law needs a wake up call. I hope you like your bedtime story and happy new year!

Word Count: 743 Content warning: NSFW; Trafalgar Law X AFAB reader; reader tops and doms Law.

Law worked too many damn hours. He knew it, the crew knew it, you knew it, but he was a stubborn man and he burned the midnight oil like no other captain or surgeon. You weren't even sure what kept him so busy most of the time, silently observing him streamline coffee and rice balls every day before he disappeared behind his office door.

Tonight you had enough - you had needs too. Needs you knew he was ignoring for himself as well as forgetting you had them too. You knock loudly on his office door, knocking again for emphasis as you rap your knuckles over the steel to let him know you meant business.

No answer.

Well then. You open the door despite the strict 'don't bother Law while he's in his office' rule and peer inside. He's slumped against his desk, the harsh light of the table lamp glaring over him as he lightly snored.

"Law."

"I wasn't sleeping!" he yelled, jerking upright.

"Sure you weren't," you quirk your eyebrow at him.

Long fingers rub his eyes, "what? Need something?"

"I do," you say softly, hopping up on his desk and sitting cross-legged in front of him. He looked taken aback as he leaned into his chair's backrest, putting a little distance between you.

"You've been distant. Evasive. What's going on?"

His eyes blow up. "No I'm not! I have things going on you know."

"No I don't. You don't share any of that with me. Nor do you spend time with me. Not anymore anyways."

Law groans, smacking his face with his hand. "Fuck." His palm drags down his cheek as he braves a glance at you. Your face is neutral, your lips set in a firm line though he may have imagined it twitching downwards. Law's arms slowly snake over to your knees, giving each cap a gentle squeeze before dragging slender fingers down your calves, gripping them in his hands and pulling your legs over the table.

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired," he laid his head down on your lap, kissing your thighs. "It's not you, it's me. I'm being such a fuckboy."

"Captain," you whisper and he snaps his eyes to yours. "I know you take on a lot. I'm not asking for much. Just some of your time." You cradle his face with your hands, encouraging him up so you can kiss on him.

"You make decisions day in and out, you plan for the future, you plan and scheme and commiserate. Let me make some decisions."

He grins and gives you a nod, leaning back in to continue kissing. He gently pets your breasts over your boiler suit as you lick his lips, pushing through and stealing swipes at his tongue as it dances along yours. Soon you were pushing against him, crawling off the table to straddle his lap.

Law's face grew flushed, hands gripping the armrests as you unzip your suit, maneuvering on his lap to undress completely while keeping your seat. He ogled shamelessly at your nude form and flexibility.

"All you have to do Law, is sit here and take it," you gush as you unbutton his yellow long sleeve. Your fingers dip into his jeans as you pull on them, "you've been neglecting the both of us, so I need to remind you of who you're hurting when you do."

You push his jeans down and free his cock. It swings up and hits against Law's chiseled abs. He was fully aware that it had been a number of weeks since you had lost gotten intimate, probably longer than that to be intimate with himself. Your fingers ghost down his length and Law chokes down a gasp. You wrap your hand around his veiny shaft and pump him, a guttural growl slowly building in his chest.

He watches as you move to rub his swollen tip, so entranced with your pretty painted nails against his ballooned head, he didn't register you shifting your hips forward. Your slick center made contact with his sensitive skin and Law let out a startled gasp. You are so wet, strings of slick dripping down to pool on his thighs as you grind against his cock.

"What do you feel?" you husk out.

"Pain," he whines through his panting.

"Why?"

"Because I forgot how much I love your pussy and starved it of affection."

"Good boy Law," you moan, sinking down on his throbbing cock.

[uroboros-if]

I once played a series of IF games (I bought them all before playing just one of them 😭) and there were a lot of like, decisions where your stats were very important. Which is fine, not really my cup of tea, bc it usually makes me feel like I can only decisions that’ll level up the “correct” stats instead of choosing the options I like.

But the romance was also stat based. So I would press a dialogue option that would be like, a bit confrontational and my progress with that character would go from 90% to 75%. Or I wouldn’t be able to help in some scenarios, bc the stat to do (which for some reason was charisma)that was too low. Which is so like, defeating. I don’t want to feel like I’m walking on a tightrope to figure out which options are “correct”.

I don’t want MC to be able to walk all over others without consequences, but I do want to be able to not be a doormat. But ig that my own frustrations with IF where there are stat checks are part of my problem.

Anon, I think I know exactly the series you're talking about, because that's the one I've had in mind all this time! 😭

I was dismayed by what you mentioned (going from a 90% to 75%) that I had to drop the story. The one I'm thinking of is a Choice of Games/Hosted Games IF. In that game, it's using Choicescript's "fairmath" where it's harder to increase your relationship the closer it is to 100%, and much easier to lose points. The opposite is true if you're closer to 0%.

Supposedly, it's so the stat doesn't go beyond 100% or below 0%, but (disclaimer: personal opinion) it shouldn't apply to relationship stats. Furthermore, I've code-dived into this game, and it's a whopping 20% decrease on one instance when you disagree with them! (That's without adjusting for fairmath, where the decrease could be higher if you have a high relationship.)

It's pretty apparent, but that game has made a pretty big impact on me! That much, at least, I appreciate it for.

Anyway, I'm sorry, everyone's probably sick of me beating this particular topic to death! I'll be answering one more ask about this issue already in my inbox, then I'll put it to rest unless there's more to it. Otherwise, feel free to DM me on Discord / Tumblr to commiserate with me, or use the replies on this post!

Thank you so much Anon💕💕💕

[yinyuedijun]

the aventurine fic hit me in places gg. idk i forgot a good chunk of my mother tongue when we moved out to a different part of my country for a while and...it just didn't make sense speaking that language when i have this to learn and get by with.

idk aven's feelings just...yeah. especially with the 'childish speech' part. and that latent embarrassment and panic over not knowing it because it's either dead or slowly dying out. those hit close. i'm appalled. goddamn you. jail to you JAIL-

omg anon ARE YOU ALSO A SPEAKER OF A DYING LANGUAGE 🤯 BECAUSE IF SO !! I am shaking your hand in commiseration 🤝🤝🤝 my family immigrated completely and on god I try my hardest to remember my mother tongue even if it's a useless language but it feels like the rest of the world is literally forgetting it faster than me 😭

anyway. I know it hurt (sorry) but I'm really happy to hear that the fic resonated with you!!! I think so many of your experiences are exactly what I wanted to capture, esp w like.... the latent panic and embarrassment bit FLSJSKA I didn't think there'd be anyone in the audience who could relate to that 😭 thank you SO SO MUCH for reading, and for sending this! it made me so happy <3 worth the jail time 😁

[ekingston]

oof! sorry to hear about your emergency root canal! those suckers are the fucking worst. not sure how long your commissions are gonna stay open but i used up my fun funds already for this month. will know more for next month depending on your timeline. anyway best of luck and hope you're recovering well!

thank you for the commiseration & thank you for your interest!! it all depends on how quickly they fill up; i work pretty slowly when wanting to get it right, so i don’t tend to take on a lot of work at once. but if you aren’t in too much of a rush you can always catch up with me later! i’m looking forward to hearing your ideas!

[amiableness]

hi elina, i’ve missed talking to you! i hope you’re doing well. I saw the anons call for advice and i’m here to give my two cents.

I am going to assume the anon is younger (only because I had similar thoughts when I was in high school, so i’m sorry if the anon is older than high school lol). There is quite literally no other choice than to speak to him, because honestly eye contact and smiles really do not amount to much in terms of interpersonal connection if there is no communication. In high school I tried to get people to speak to me telepathically (I’m speaking metaphorically here, I was just shy and wanted others to approach me first), and it never worked. but! there are so many different ways you can start talking to this boy!

Do you know about any clubs/activities/interest he’s in or has? You can ask him about that. If you’re in the same class, commiserating with him about something that happened in class would be perfect way to start communication that could lead elsewhere. Without knowing more about the context there’s not much else I can recommend.

But, at the end of the day it’s important to remember that we’re all just normal people and that he is just a dude. he puts his shoes on in the morning like everyone else. It truly won’t hurt to put yourself out there in the long run, and remember, don’t put the focus on him liking you, it’s more important if you like him! I’ve talked to so many people (girls and guys) in person, on dating apps, people from my classes, randos who give me their insta at the gas station, not because i’m super outgoing but kind of as an exposure therapy if that makes sense. by actually doing the thing i’m relieving myself about all the thoughts of how it could go. and now i know that if someone doesn’t like me it isn’t the end of the world, which isn’t how i felt three years ago! anyways this is getting very long and i’m not sure if i even answer the anons question or if they will even find this helpful

-maeve

hi angel! i missed talking to you too! this is the perfect advice and i can’t thank you enough for putting your two cents in!

like maeve said! he’s just a guy and it may seem really scary talking to him, but something great could come out of it. and if not, then you move on and feel grateful that you learned from the experience. without talking to him, there really isn’t any way to gain his attention. the best way is to make the first move! <3

[liskantope]

I always find your thoughts on dating apps to be super interesting, and I'm sorry to hear about the demoralizing nature of it (which has been precisely my experience, too, for the past couple of years).

It got me randomly thinking, do you feel that one reason the dating sites don't generally work is because, counterintuitively, there's too much to choose from? In other words, the very fact that we know there are so many profiles makes us more likely to pass on people who we might have been willing to give a chance in real life.

I'll admit outright that I'm guilty of that, and it might not be the case with most other people, but I do wonder if the overabundance of profiles on the dating apps has some unhelpful effect.

I hope you have better luck real soon, by the way!

Thanks for the kindness and commiseration! In fact, just in the last couple of years, everyone I hear discussing modern online dating seems to express a disgust with it and seems to feel some degree/variety of hopelessness around it. I was at a meetup event organized by a woman for single men some months ago, the purpose being to discuss what the dating world looks like from men's point of view, and the one thing that we seemed to unanimously agree on was "Online dating sucks!" Part of it clearly has to do with dating apps just visibly getting worse. Just twice in the past couple of weeks there have been snarky offhand mentions (one of them on ACX) of "OKCupid, back when it was still good". And I have the same feeling: it's hard for me to put a finger on precisely which changes in the interface of the dating apps I've been on have made the overall experience much worse than it was even a few years ago*, but it's there.

Anyway, to more closely address your question, I've heard the "paralysis and decreased happiness from having more choices" hypothesis from time to time in conversations (mostly from podcasts) about the modern world of dating. It's a much more generally-applied hypothesis as to why there seems to be more unhappiness (among certain populations) in modern times than half a century ago; I even recall there being a famous TED talk on it. I think this phenomenon must have an effect for some people in some areas of the online dating realm, but my suspicion is that this is mostly a factor for women seeking men through online dating. My impression of most women on dating apps who are reasonably attractive and have some ability to post decent photos is that they have a plethora of men to choose from, a very large percentage of whom will right-swipe them back, so they might as well aim for the top. But then, the men they perceive via very limited digital profiles to be the cream of the crop often turn out to be disappointing in person.

This could be an issue for some non-women not seeking men online as well, I suppose (although from what I hear, my experience of putting tons of energy in desperate hopes of getting a single match every now and then is pretty normal for men seeking women, even men I would consider more attractive than me, and plenty of men who are not me follow the strategy of just right-swiping everyone so your suggestion certainly doesn't seem to apply to them). But I don't really think it's an issue for me: as I said in my last post, the vast majority of dating profiles I see show women don't enthuse me on one or more fairly basic parameters (this is particularly the case on OKCupid, where a lot more information tends to be exposed). This sounds like I'm being very demanding -- and whether I am is a question I ask myself all the time -- but these criteria just don't seem like they should be too much to ask for, although I'm beginning to see why as our history progresses and as I get older it was bound to get harder and harder to find them.

These basic parameters aren't as visible with someone you've just met in real life, and maybe if I met some of them in real life I'd find them more dateable than they appear in a profile, and maybe chemistry would take over powerfully enough for me to be more flexible on certain things than I currently think myself capable of. But admitting this possibility is subtly but significantly different from saying that the multitude of choices presented to me on dating sites raises my standards: I just don't think it has, or that for me the larger number of choices has anything to do with it.

Anyway, I wish you better luck too!

*The closest I can come to explaining coherently is that they are more visibly trying to find ways to get my money. Which I find not only annoying but somehow infantalizing in a way I can't quite explain, even to myself. My attitude doesn't seem entirely defensible when I zoom out and consider that there's no reason dating sites should have to be free: they are businesses that have to stay in business and have every right to try to get me to pay money. There's just some holdout within the last bit of my internalized stigma around using dating sites that makes me strangely proud of how I've never spent a single penny on dating sites in 11-12 years of on-and-off using them. (At the single men's event I mentioned above, one bit of advice some other guys gave to me is "if you're a guy, you have to spend money on dating apps, otherwise they're not going to be effective.")

[expatesque]

S! I don’t know if you remember me but I dated the Kenya boy! Long story short, we broke up last week (sucks, getting dumped through a slow ghosting double sucks, I can give details if you care), but I wanted to say thank you! I’m glad it happened anyway! You made me brave enough to try!

Omg hi! You dated him! I'm glad you gave it a try and I'm sorry it didn't end well. At least now you know? I'm proud of you for going for it 💕If you ever want commiserations and virtual wine, I'm always around.