#I think it’s because my friends use it for me!
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hope-for-the-planet · 3 days ago
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Trans person in the US. Bust some of the doomerism for me? Tell me it's going to be okay?
Hi Anon
Usually, I have boundaries for myself about keeping this blog focused on environment-related issues, because there are limits to what I can speak knowledgeably about. But now doesn’t feel like the time for that.
Anon, I will tell you that I live in the US, I am queer, my spouse is trans, and we have two young children. I am sitting right there with you in the fear and grief and every day when I ask myself “is there still hope” I find reasons to say “yes”.
They want us—all of us, not just queer folks—to feel overwhelmed and hopeless, because despair is a tool that keeps people from realizing their power and taking action.
They want us to feel so afraid that we lose our faith in other people and withdraw from our communities, because we are easier to conquer alone.
Do not give them what they want.
Hope is most necessary in the bad times. The ability to imagine a future that is better than things are now is exactly what gives us the power to begin making things better. Our community has been through terrible things before, and they did not lose hope or give up—otherwise we would not be where we are today.
When you start to feel like all the light is being blotted out, turn off the news, put away your phone, and go get in touch with something you love. Go outside and look at the sky, talk to a friend, listen to music, do some small thing to make something better even if it’s just cleaning your kitchen or picking up some litter around the block or returning an extra stranded cart in the grocery store parking lot. Remind your brain that you have agency to make positive change in the world through your actions.
I know it is really hard to pull out of the darkness sometimes. I know there will be days that hope seems like a foolish, naive thing, that despair and distrust seem like the only rational options. But hope is what keeps us alive. Hope is what allows us to save each other.
I wish I could give you a specific article or other source to reassure you that everything is going to be ok, but things are still too in flux day by day. I can tell you that people are already fighting back, in big and little ways, all over this country and the world. These orders and bills are being pushed by a loud but small minority—this is not how the majority of the country feels about trans rights.
Make a plan for staying safe. Reach out to your community. Find music, activities, podcasts, movies, whatever helps you feel uplifted and take mental breaks from dwelling on the news. If you can, find ways to get involved in making things better in whatever big or small way feels doable for you--it may help push back on the doomerism more than you think. And my inbox is open if you need to talk.
I wish I could invite you over for dinner. I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you that things may get hard for the next few years but that does not mean that your life can't still be full of joy and beauty and fulfillment in spite of that.
I’m right there with you. Let’s make it through this together <3
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lazysoulwriter · 3 days ago
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Soft for You - Rafe Cameron!
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requests are still open! - 💌
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“For the last time, Rafe is not going to kill me.”
The words leave your mouth so naturally, like it’s a daily routine at this point. Your friends just give you that same look—half amusement, half concern—and shake their heads.
“Okay, but if you end up missing, we’re not gonna be surprised,” JJ says, leaning back against the couch.
“Not funny.” You cross your arms.
“I mean,” Kie shrugs, “He has a reputation, you know?”
“A reputation that doesn’t apply to me,” you insist. “He’s different when it’s just us.”
Pope lets out a chuckle. “Sure, sure. An angel, right?”
“Exactly,” you say, unfazed. “He’s my angel.”
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It’s a quiet afternoon at Rafe’s house, the kind you love the most. With his dad gone and Sarah never around, it’s practically yours and his now—a big, empty house just for the two of you.
You’re curled up on the couch when he walks in, shirt slightly unbuttoned, hair still damp from his shower. His face softens immediately when he sees you.
“Babyyy,” he hums, making his way over.
You giggle, pulling him down beside you. “Rafe, don’t call me that in that voice.”
“What voice?” he teases, nuzzling his nose against yours.
“That baby voice,” you laugh.
“But you love it,” he grins, kissing your cheek.
And you do. As much as you pretend to hate it, the way he softens around you, the way his voice gets all sweet and playful, makes your heart flutter every time.
“Missed you,” he murmurs, pulling you onto his lap.
“You saw me this morning,” you remind him.
“Doesn’t matter. Missed you anyway.”
You melt against him, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his jaw. His arms wrap around you tightly, like he never wants to let go. You kiss him, slow and sweet, feeling him smile against your lips.
“How do you always do this to me?” he whispers.
“Do what?”
“Make me wanna be soft,” he says, resting his forehead against yours.
You giggle, cupping his face. “Maybe because you are soft. For me, at least.”
He sighs, pressing another lingering kiss to your lips.
The afternoon passes in a blur of whispered words and shared smiles. You end up sprawled across his bed, legs tangled together, your head resting on his chest. He traces slow, absentminded patterns on your arm, his other hand playing with your hair.
“You make me wanna be better,” he murmurs.
You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. “You already are.”
He scoffs playfully. “Tell that to literally anyone else.”
You grin. “Oh, I do. But no one believes me.”
Rafe chuckles, shifting so he can look at you better. “Maybe because they only see one side of me.”
“Then they don’t know the real you,” you say simply, running a hand down his chest.
He hums in thought before pulling you closer. “I don’t care what they think. As long as you know.”
“I do,” you assure him. “And I love you for it.”
His breath hitches slightly, but then he’s smiling, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
“If only people knew,” you murmur. “I wish I could record this and just end your whole bad boy reputation.”
Rafe laughs, shaking his head. “Let ‘em think what they want, baby. I only care what you think.”
And that’s all that matters.
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sharlsworld · 3 days ago
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⋆⭒˚.⋆ guilty pleasure - 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔 ✴︎
( 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 )𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼 𝗑 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
( 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 )𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉 𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗆
note ✫ pt. 2 of my best friends brother, this could be read as a stand alone but would make more sense to look at the other smau. the first post is kinda suggestive
🝮
yn
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liked by pierregasly and 1,728,306 others
yn was going through my camera roll, i miss summer so bad
charles_leclerc first
charles_leclerc I remember that week was absolute hell I felt like a teenage boy going through puberty
⤷ arthur_leclerc ew is that why you wouldn’t play chicken with us??? y/n wanted to play so bad then you ran away. you sicko what a perv
⤷ charles_leclerc It’s not funny arthur and I don’t know why you would suggest musical chairs on a fucking boat but that was horrible she sat on my lap and I almost creamed my pants right there
⤷ arthur_leclerc No one wants to know that you fuckin perv 🤮🤮 #lockcharlesup
⤷ charles_leclerc stop calling me a sicko and a perv just because she’s younger then me. i’ll purple nurple you arthur.
⤷ arthur_leclerc I’ll shave all your hair off when you’re asleep. You sleep like a rock you won’t feel a thing.
⤷ charles_leclerc I’ll shave your eyebrows off then you cunt
⤷ yn ok let’s stop there 😊
⤷ charles_leclerc Whatever you say bébé
francisca.cgomes hottie 😍😍🤤
carlossainz55 Who’s that cutie in the last slide?
⤷ alex_albon I thought we had a connection…we went on a coffee date carlos 😔
⤷ carlossainz55 Shhh look away baby, he has attachment issues…you’re the one I come home to every day 😘
⤷ yn ally 🏳️‍🌈 now get this gay fest out of my comment section
🝮
charles_leclerc
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liked by lewishamilton and 5,544,814 others
charles_leclerc y/n via jade’s instagram story
yn wrong account?
arthur_leclerc is this meant for what i think it’s meant for?
jade_distinguinn Ummm???
lando charles marc hervé perceval leclerc do you run a fan page for your little brothers best friend? OMG IM GONNA GO FIND IT SHUT UP
georgerussell63 Ah, you’re one of us
⤷ danielricciardo NO WAY I FUCKING CALLED THIS IS SO CRAZY YOU LIAM ALEX AND LANDO OWE ME 300 BUCKS IM GONNA BE RICH
⤷ liamlawson30 you’re already rich?
⤷ danielricciardo Shut up and venmo me my money cunt THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE
arthur_leclerc OMG YOU RUN A FUCKING FAN ACCOUNT FOR Y/N THIS IS SO AMAZING WHATS THE USERNAME PLEASE
alex_albon this is tewww good drop the user king
leclerc_pascale Charles how long has this been going on?
pierregasly NO WAY BRO YOUR LIFE IS OVER
maxverstappen1 Absolute gold, this is pure cinema. Keep it up mate 🥳😂
lando SHUT UP ARE YOU CHARLESLOVESYN???
⤷ liamlawson30 NO WAY I FUCKING LOVE THAT ACCOUNT BRO
⤷ alex_albon I always wondered how they were always so quick to update
⤷ georgerussell63 Omg no way I stalk that account every night before bed
⤷ danielricciardo SHUT UP AND VENMO ME MY MONEY YOU GUYS PLEASUHHHHH
arthur_leclerc CHARLES TELL US YOUR SECRETS HOW DO YOU MANAGE A SUCCESSFUL FANPAGE WHILE BEING A F1 DRIVER??? 🎤🎤🎤
yn awhhh charles baby you’re so sweet
⤷ arthur_leclerc WTF THATS SO CREEPY??? ITS BEEN GOING SINCE 2021 THATS WHEN YOU TURNED 18????
⤷ yn don’t be mean arthur it’s sweet
⤷ arthur_leclerc oh my gosh you poor thing he’s brainwashed you 💔
⤷ yn stop being mean or i’ll post that one picture of you for everyone to see
⤷ arthur_leclerc 🤐
🝮
charleslovesyn
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liked by lando and 573,649 others
charleslovesyn l’amour de ma vie ❤️
estiebestie omg she looks so pretty where did you get this from??
⤷ charleslovesyn my camera roll??
⤷ estiebestie oh!
⤷ estiebestie OHHHHHH
lando I FOUND IT IM FASTER THEN THE FUCKING FBI THIS IS THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY LIFE
⤷ danielriccardo Bruh send me my money
⤷ lando are you going broke or something damn
maxverstappen1 How do you have 70k followers
⤷ alex_albon this is THE y/n fan page max
yn sweet babyyy i love you
⤷ pierregasly Wow you two are a different level of down bad for each other
leclerc_pascale Well, at least it’s a successful fan account son ❤️
arthur_leclerc If I speak…
⤷ yn shut up arthur you burned your neck with my curling iron and told everyone it was a hickey
⤷ arthur_leclerc Oh my goshhh why would you say that 😔
⤷ yn quit being mean to charles he’s feeling very overwhelmed right now
⤷ arthur_leclerc sorry i forgot he can’t focus on anything but you anymore 😒
⤷ yn you still watch moana whenever we finish watch a scary movie
⤷ arthur_leclerc y/n stopppppp
lance_stroll Bros really been playing hard to get when he’s been running a fan page since 2021
⤷ yn shut up maple licker go hug a moose or something
⤷ yn omg i’m sorry lance i just wanted to say that but i don’t know anyone else who’s canadian 😿
⤷ lance_stroll you’re gucci queen don’t fret
georgerussell63 What a time to be alive
⤷ danielriccardo Oh so you can comment on charles’ fan page for his gf but not venmo me my money I won fair and square??
⤷ georgerussell63 Give me a minute damn I’m still riding on the high of this whole thing
🝮
charles_leclerc
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liked by arthur_leclerc and 3,381,160 others
charles_leclerc and what about it
francisca.cgomes King behavior honestly
alex_albon period
arthur_leclerc Okay tone the attitude down queen charles
⤷ yn 😐 have you learned nothing or do want me to tell everyone the time you peed yourself cause you got excited when you seen adele…last year
⤷ arthur_leclerc ain’t no way you just said that bruh 😓 i remember when you used to defend me like this when charles would be mean to me 😔
georgerussell63 Don’t ever let them shame the fan girl out of you ✊ we’re in 4life
carlossainz55 Yesss queen show your true self
lilymhe I wish Alex would make a fan page for me too…guess he doesn’t love me 😔
⤷ alex_albon I literally tried and you told me no.
⤷ lilymhe BECAUSE YOU MADE A GOSSIP PAGE
⤷ alex_albon JUST SAY YOU HATE ME GOSH
danielricciardo i’m still waiting for my money…
⤷ lando we’re sending it damn 😒
⤷ georgerussell63 Do you need it for rent or something jeez…
⤷ alex_albon seriously you already blew through your savings or what??
⤷ liamlawson30 don’t worry bud, i sent you a little extra. get yourself something nice ❤️
⤷ danielricciardo You sent me 1 extra dollar…
⤷ liamlawson30 send that shit back then damn, everyone’s so ungrateful these days 😒
⤷ danielricciardo Hell nah I’m keeping that shit
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lovecla · 3 days ago
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FAVORITE KIND OF NIGHT ; HUGHES, SLAFKOVSKÝ
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PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, juraj slafkovský x fem!reader, ex-cole caufield x fem!reader
SUMMARY when you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you the entire time, you do what every girl does when they get cheated on: you fuck his best friends.
WORD COUNT 5,5k
WARNINGS taboo content, cheating, foursome (f/m/m/m), p in v, unprotected sex, degradation, mention of stomach bulge, creampie, double p in v, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk, humiliation, subspace, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), gagging, dacryphilia, brief aftercare.
FROM ME TO YOU my loves, listen to your clara very carefully: if you do not agree with ANY of what’s written here, please consider not reading. this is just a silly idea i had a few days ago and i wanted to write about it. i have zero intentions of offending anyone: this is pure fiction! none of this is real! anyways, thank you @cyberhughes for listening to my naughty thoughts about this plot and for having my back. love you juni baby, this one’s for you <3 and for those who are still here, have a nice reading!
𖧷
on that lonely night, said it wouldn't be love
but we felt the rush (fell in love)
it made us believe it was only us
THE THING about being a hockey girlfriend is that you will, most certainly, get cheated on.
When you first heard that, you thought it was just bullshit— not all men are the same and all of that. Some people were just unfortunate to have shitty boyfriends, but not you.
Or at least that’s what you thought before watching a viral video of your boyfriend of two years kissing three different girls at a party.
The video was blurry, and maybe if you were a little bit more naive, you wouldn’t have noticed that the man eating those girls’ lips was, in fact, Cole Caufield, the man you swore to be the love of your life.
“Maybe it’s not him, Y/n,” your friend said, voice soft and gentle, as she put your phone down and locked it. “Cole wouldn’t do that… right?”
Right, you want to say. Of course he wouldn’t do that.
But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to lie and betray your own trust. You sat there, on your couch, thinking about what you were going to do.
Your relationship was public, Cole had already posted pictures of you several times over the years, but now, so was the fact that he cheated on you with not just one girl, but with two more.
Now, everyone knows that you got cheated on, and that you weren’t an exception to the Hockey rule.
“‘s okay,” you sniff, cleaning your nose with your sweater’s sleeve. “It’s okay.”
It wasn’t, really, but what else could you do?
Truth is, even though you love— loved?— Cole a lot, you had been feeling a little bit weird. Cole didn’t seek you anymore, he didn’t look at you the same way he used to do when you first started dating.
You thought it was just the fact that he was tired and feeling responsible for his team’s recklessness, but clearly, it wasn’t just that.
Days passed after the terrible, awful video, and even though you hadn’t spoken to Cole in probably two weeks— he was away and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his texts—, you wanted to break things up with him in person.
“Why would you do that?” Your friend asked over the phone, and you sighed.
“Because I’m better than he is,” you say. “And because I need to get closure.”
“I guess you’re right,” she sighs, and then she’s quiet for a few seconds. But, “I need to tell you something.”
“What?” You ask, rolling to your side. “What is it?”
“There’s going to be a party at Zegras’ place tonight,” she says. “Heard Cole shit ass is going.”
“Who told you that?”
“I was talking to one of his new buddies, and he invited me to the party. Said I could go if I kept my mouth shut to you,” she scoffed. “I thought about telling him to hell and then telling him to fuck himself but I thought it might be more useful to pretend I wasn’t going to tell you anything and then tell you everything.”
You chuckled. “Yeah. We’re going, then?”
“We so are going,” she giggles. “I’ll bring the eggs.”
“I’ll bring the flour.”
𖧷
THE PARTY looked more like a frat party than anything, which lowkey disgusted you.
You knew the majority of the players were young and still in their teenager mindset, but whenever you went to a party, it usually had more decorum than whatever this was.
The music was so loud you couldn’t hear your friend talking next to you. People were grinding against each other like they were in heat and ready to fuck in front of everyone, and the room had a strong smell of marijuana and cheap beer.
You rolled your eyes but focused on your reason to be there: find Cole, break up with him and maybe even embarrass him in front of all of his friends.
You tried to warn your friend about where you were going, but since the music was too loud, you just signaled to the door on your right. She nodded, and you moved around the room, feeling with your feet the way the floor shook with the song’s thrumming.
Fortunately, you didn’t have to walk much. Cole’s stupid ass seemed to have forgotten to close his room’s door, and now you were staring at the 5’8” man you thought was going to be the father of your kids, kissing another girl.
“So, this looks really fun, huh?” You said, closing the room’s door, and suddenly, all of the eyes were on you. Cole’s included.
“Y-Y/n, what,” he stutters, removing the girl from his lap and getting up. “What are you doing here, baby?”
“No, what are you doing here?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling yourself start to burn with anger. “Weren’t you supposed to be in New York?”
“No, you see—”
“Is your name New York, sweetie?” You ask the girl who was previously kissing him, who looks like a scared, little kitten. Little does she know you’re not going after her— you couldn't care less about her. “Uh, I guess not.”
There were at least eight other people in the room, sitting there and goofing around. But now, all of them looked like they would pay a hundred thousand bucks not to be in Cole’s shoes.
“Y/n—” he tries again, reaching for your arm.
You step back, flinching away from his touch. “Don’t fucking touch me, Cole. You’re fucking sick. I hope y’all have fun,” you hiss, turning around and heading towards the room’s door again. You look over your shoulder, watching Cole’s sorrowful face. “Enjoy as much as you can, darling. I know his dick won’t make you happy.”
You leave the room with fast steps, not before hearing Cole’s so-called friends laugh out loud with your words. You could feel yourself burning with anger, which made you happy. You thought you were going to feel destroyed, sad and depressed when you confronted him about the fact that he cheated on you regularly.
But after seeing his pathetic expression and actions, you realised you weren’t the one who should be feeling that way.
Your legs were moving on their own, and when you noticed, you were on the second floor, barging in another room, opening its door with full strength.
Only to blush even more, this time not with anger, no.
“Oh, hey there, Y/n. Where’s the fire?”
Jack’s sarcastic tone made you hold the door’s handle tighter, and when you looked around, you felt like a fish out of its tank.
The room was poorly lit, only the yellow light from the lamps reflected on the dark walls of the room, making the environment seem more intimate than it really was.
There were sofas along the room, and low music was playing, probably coming from one of the cell phones.
Because not only Jack Hughes was there, but his oldest brother, Quinn and Juraj Slafkovský.
You didn’t even know Quinn and Jack got along with Slaf, yet there they were, sitting and chatting with each other like they weren’t all rivals during the weekdays.
They laughed with Jack’s little remark before Quinn said: “You can come in, we don’t bite.”
“Unless you want to.” Juraj was the one who said this, to your ultimate surprise, and you rolled your eyes, doing as they said and getting in, closing the door behind you.
“Dude, come on,” Jack laughs. “She has a boyfriend.”
“Not anymore,” you say, for the first time since you opened the door. You eyed the drink cart in the corner of the room, taking full steps towards it and opening the first bottle you say. Whiskey. Great. “I just broke up with Cole, actually.”
There was a second of silence before you heard some clapping behind you, which made you turn around and stare at the grown men sitting across the room.
“What’s this clapping for?” You ask.
“It was about time, Y/n, what the hell,” Juraj says. “Guy’s been cheating on you for months.”
“And you guys didn’t think of, I don’t know, maybe give me a heads up?” You ask, sarcasm pouring out of your mouth while you pour the alcoholic drink in the glass sitting on the wooden surface. Then, you walk until you’re sitting beside Quinn and Juraj. “Would’ve been nice.”
“Sorry,” Quinn says, poking your shoulder. “In my defense, I wasn’t around enough to know he was cheating.”
“In my defense,” Jack starts. “I don’t like him.”
“In my defense,” Juraj finishes, opening his legs and resting his arms behind his head. “I couldn’t do it, because I would’ve been called a homewrecker.”
You almost choked on your drink. “What?!”
“You know I’ve been wanting to fuck you for ages now,” he sighs, like he’s tired of saying that; like he’s been saying that for a long time now. “But you can’t exactly fuck your homie’s girlfriend, can you?”
“Word.” Jack says, leaning forward to fist bumping Juraj. Quinn only chuckles and you can’t believe your eyes.
You’ve known all of them for basically the same amount of time, and you liked them a lot. Jack was a little, teasing shit, way too different from Quinn, but he was funny and so were his brothers— hanging out with them was always fun.
Quinn was private but sweet, probably one of your favorite people in the league. His soft spoken demeanor had made its way into your heart and was now stuck there, for the rest of your life, probably.
And Juraj was an old friend, someone you knew even before you started dating Cole— he was the reason you and Cole got together in the first place.
So hearing that one of your closest friends wants to have sex with you is weird, especially because he had just confessed that in front of two other men.
You stare at them, incredulous. “What are you even talking about?”
“Come on, Y/n, you can’t be this oblivious,” Jack grunts, and you tilt your head, confused. “You didn’t notice the way he looks at you?”
“Fuck you, Hughes,” Slaf curses, giving him the middle finger. “Like you’re one to talk. Everyone knows you’re head over heels for her and you know which head I’m talking about.”
Quinn laughs like what Slaf said had been the funniest thing he’d heard in a while, while Jack simply shrugs and looks at you with expectant eyes.
“You are all drunk. That’s the only explanation I can find,” you say, still choosing not to see what is right in front of you. “And I’m about to be the next one.”
You took just one sip before Quinn wrapped his hand around your glass and took it out of your hands. You were about to complain and ask him what happened when he shook his head, clicking his tongue. “We are not drunk, Y/n. And we don’t want you to be.”
“What? Why not?” You ask. “I promise I’m not that type of person who talks about their love life when they’re drunk. I might talk about Tik Tok memes, though.”
“That’s worse than talking about your shit ass love life,” Jack murmurs and you turn around to look at him with angry eyes. “What?” He asks, grinning, with his hands in the air.
“It’s not my fault I can’t find the right guys,” you sigh, resting your head on Quinn’s shoulder like you’re used to doing. “Why do men suck?”
“Not all of them do, sweets.” Quinn says, placing his hand on your naked thigh, making you blush faintly.
“We don’t.” Juraj murmurs beside you, and you hum.
“Well,” you say, measuring your words. “Unfortunately, I can’t have any of you. So, yeah, I still have the same problem.”
“Who said you can’t have any of us?” Juraj says, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows at him. “Or even better, all of us.”
There’s a beat of silence. The room is suddenly too warm for you, and even if you’re just wearing a skirt and a crop top, you still feel yourself starting to get sweaty.
The song is still playing, an unknown melody reverberating through the room, and what once felt big and spacious suffocates you now.
“You guys. You can’t be serious… right?” You ask, looking at each and every single one of them in the eye.
Jack is the first one to break the silence. “Come on, Y/n. Haven’t you ever thought about us like that?”
You can feel their eyes on you as you think of what to answer. You can’t say you haven’t— that would be a lie. You were loyal to Cole and you loved him, but you weren’t blind.
And now that you’re really thinking, these guys hadn’t been particularly sleek either; Jack with his obsession with calling you pet names, Quinn finding any and every excuse to touch you whenever you were in the same room and Juraj eye-fucking you from afar while you cuddled with his teammate.
So yeah, you have wondered about it before, but it all sounded so insane you didn’t think about it twice. The odds of all four of them liking you were pretty low, so why bother fooling yourself with these kinds of thoughts?
But now, you were sitting in the same room as them, with Juraj’s arm touching yours, Quinn’s hand running up and down your leg, and Jack’s eyes on you, like you were a prey or something similar.
“We can’t do that,” you whisper, trying your hardest to hold onto that single piece of sanity and morals you still had. “You guys are insane. Jack, Quinn’s your brother.” You reason, expecting to knock some sense into them.
Quinn squeezes your thigh slightly. “It wouldn’t be our first time.”
“Besides, it’s fine because we’re not going to fuck each other,” Jack says, like he’s telling you the sky’s blue. “I’m going to fuck you.”
“We are going to fuck you,” Juraj corrects, and you close your eyes, holding your hands together on your lap, trying to keep them still. “What do you say, chéri?” He asks, getting dangerously close to your neck, his strong, masculine scent making your head spin. His lips briefly touch your neck, the contact so light you wouldn’t feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of your surroundings.
Quinn’s warm, big hand is moving up, up and up, and that startles you.
You get up, panting as hard as if you had ran an entire marathon, and you stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by them. By your friends who had just asked to fuck you.
“I can’t— I can’t do this,” you whisper. “What about Cole, what about—”
“Sweetheart, Cole is probably balls deep inside someone else right now,” Quinn replies, and the others hum in agreement. “If you don’t want it because you don’t want to, it’s fine, you know we’d never force you. But,” he spreads his thighs, the outline of his cock is visible and right there for you to see. You gulp, not sure of what to do. “If you don’t want to do it because you still believe Cole deserves your kindness, then I have to say—”
“You’re being dumb,” Juraj finishes Quinn’s sentence, smirking. “You’ll be crying over one small cock when you have three waiting for you. It’s your pick, really.”
Your head is spinning and you feel aware of your body, which is something you hate. You can feel your arms and legs starting to give in, and to your absolute horror and panic, you can feel your underwear start to get sticky.
You walk towards the door, ready to leave, ready to put this night behind and pretend this was all a fever dream, and never think about this again. But, as you grab the handle, you know you won’t be able to forget this, not even if you wanted to.
So, you stop being a hypocrite, and grab the door’s key, locking the door once, and then twice, before exhaling and turning around again.
All three of them are staring at you, with the same expression; lust. It’s sinful and you are certain that you’re going to hell for this, but as you start to get undressed, right there, in the middle of the room, for all of them to see, you can’t help but feel like what you’re doing is nothing but right.
You remove your crop top, pulling the fabric over your head and dropping it on the floor, shivering slightly when the cold breeze hits your naked skin. You do the same with your skirt, letting it fall around your feet like a river, leaving you standing with only your bra and lace underwear in front of them.
“Fuck.” You hear one of them say, you’re not sure who, the word nothing but a whisper.
Juraj is the first one to get up, and get his hands on you. He’s rough, hungry and not careful at all, something you’re not used to but like it anyway.
His lips are on yours almost instantly, and his hands are holding you down while he licks and sucks your mouth. He tastes like some kind of candy you’ve had before, and your brain is screaming that what you’re doing is wrong, so wrong and that you literally just broke up with your boyfriend of two years not even thirty minutes ago but you can’t stop.
It’s maddening, it’s addictive and you want more.
It gets worse when you feel another pair of hands on your back, unclamping your bra. You hear a soft tud, which you can only assume is your bralette hitting the floor. Then, there are hands squeezing your tits, hands almost as rough as Slaf’s, and it has you moaning inside his mouth.
“So fucking soft,” you hear Jack say behind you as he gets closer, his hard dick poking your ass over your underwear. “Tits so fucking soft for us, baby.”
And he pinches both of your nipples, making you whimper loud and separate your lips from Juraj’s. There’s a saliva string connecting both of you and it makes you feel nasty.
He gives you a brief peck before gently slapping your thighs twice, silently asking you to remove your underwear, which you promptly do. You slide your lace panties over your legs, shyly throwing them away from you.
It’s only then that you notice Quinn staring at you from the couch, half naked with his dick out of his boxers— the thought of him getting off only by watching you makes you squeeze your thighs together, to stop your hole from clenching around nothing.
“Let’s get you wet and ready, alright?” Juraj says, manhandling you around like you were just a toy for him to break, until your back touched the cold, wooden surface of the table sitting in the middle of the dark room. You arch your back, pouting with the coldness and Slaf coos at you. “I’m sorry there isn’t anything more comfortable than this.”
“Like she cares about comfort,” Quinn snorts. “The only thing she’s worried about it’s whether she’s taking one or two cocks in that greedy pussy of hers.”
The humiliation Quinn’s words bring you is almost unbearable, yet it has you dripping anyway. Their laughs, the way they’re all staring at you like some piece of meat makes you feel hot all over.
Juraj lays you down carefully, only to spread your legs open with the same roughness he used before, when his lips were on yours. You yelped, feeling exposed and embarrassed— your bare, glistening pussy was on display for all three of them to see.
“Holy shit,” you hear someone say, Juraj maybe, and you cringe, hiding your face with your hands. “She’s perfect.”
“We’ll see about that,” you hear Jack say behind you and you remove your hands from your face. Suddenly, he’s sliding his pants down, his dick touching his covered abs as wraps his fist around his length, slowly jerking off in front of you.
You’re watching it in awe, even as you stare at him upside down, since your head is hanging off the table’s edge. He smirks down at you at the same time Juraj licks your clenching hole, making you moan for the first time, loud and involuntary.
“Ah.”
“Shit,” you hear Slaf say. “Pussy so fucking wet and sweet. Y/n, you’ll drive me crazy.”
You don’t answer; not because you don’t want to but because Jack places his hands on both sides of your cheeks, squeezing them together until your mouth forms the perfect O and he can slide his entire dick inside it.
He moans noisily as you gag on his long dick. It’s an unexpected feeling, to have your throat fucked like this— Cole wasn’t a big fan of messy, rough blowjobs— but fuck if it doesn’t get you wetter.
Juraj is still working hard on your pussy, licking your folds and throbbing clit, eating it with a loud slurp, the sound of your wetness making you close your eyes with pleasure and shame.
“Your mouth feels so good, pretty,” Jack moans behind you, still holding your head in place while he drags his dick through your throat. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears and you feel your mouth so full it is starting to hurt. “Almost as tight as a pussy.”
It’s overwhelming to try to manage the feeling of Juraj’s tongue and Jack’s cock on you. You feel warm, your hands are gripping the table like your life depends on it, and you can feel yourself start to slip more and more.
“She’s wet enough already,” Quinn states, and the fact that he’s referring to you like you’re not even there makes you whimper loudly around Jack’s cock.
Next thing you know, you’re being manhandled again; Jack’s rough hands leave your cheeks to hold your waist instead, taking you to the nearest couch and laying down with you on top of him.
You’re facing him, those blue eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n,” he starts, his tone gentle for the first time that night. You hum, adjusting yourself on top of him, until you have both of your legs on each side of his body, almost on fours on top of him, highly aware that Quinn and Slaf could see everything. “We are going to be rough.”
“I know,” you whisper.
“I’m not asking for permission, baby, do you understand that?” He talks to you like one would do to a child, using a tone so soft it could put you to sleep, if it were any other situation. You bite your lips, feeling Slaf’s long fingers sliding up and down your pussy, rubbing circles on your swollen clit while Jack speaks. “We are going to be rough. Tonight, you’re nothing but a toy for us to play with, alright? A hole for us to fuck.”
You nod, closing your eyes momentarily as Juraj pinches your clit, hard. He tugs it and it feels like he just placed a clothespin on you. It hurts so. Good.
“I need your words, baby.”
“I u-understand that,” you sob, hot tears running freely down your face as you continue to speak. “I w-want it.”
Jack chuckles, touching your face with care. “It would be so nice if we actually cared about what you want, huh?”
You bit your lip again, suppressing a loud moan. It would be even more embarrassing if they realized how wet you got every time they were mean towards you.
“Bitch gets wetter and wetter every time you say shit like that, Hughes,” Juraj says, and your entire face burns with shame, as you hide it in the crock of Jack’s neck. “Come see this shit, Quinn.”
You tremble as you hear a pair of steps echoing through the room, and without warning, you feel your hips getting lifted, just slightly, at the same time you feel two fingers being inserted inside deeply in your pussy.
You whine loudly, not even feeling pain with how wet you were. His fingers were moving around like you were nothing but a sex doll, making you hold Jack’s arm to steady yourself.
“Look at this tight, little thing,” Juraj says, twirling his fingers around, scissoring them inside you. “Merde. She’s milking my fucking fingers, bro.”
“I can see that,” Quinn hums. “Pussy so fucking greedy she’s taking you without complaints.”
You were about to moan again when Juraj removed his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing, once again. “Let’s start, then.”
After that, it’s hard to tell what really happened. You were thrown around, and suddenly, Slaf was laying under you, Quinn was standing beside you and you assumed Jack was behind you.
You could feel one of them poking their cock through your slit, gathering all your wetness to use as lube. Then, he slowly started to insert it, the stretch making you whimper inside Slaf’s mouth, as he bruised your lips roughly again.
Jack had barely given you time to adjust to his length when you felt Juraj’s tip poking at your entrance too. You gasped inside his mouth, feeling his dick joining Jack’s inside you and.
Oh.
“Fuck, Y/n.”
You opened your eyes, glistening with tears, and stared at Quinn standing beside you, who was looking at you with fond eyes. He chuckles while staring down at you, taking his dick out again and grabbing it with his right hand, running the tip over your mouth.
The salty taste of his precum painting your lips white distracted you momentarily from the fact that Juraj was still trying to put his dick inside you, accompanying Jack’s.
But it wasn’t enough, of course— even if Juraj's thick, long fingers had stretched you, it didn’t compare to having both of their cocks inside you, together.
“Oh,” you heard Quinn coo. “She’s crying. Maybe she can’t take it?”
You shook your head immediately, not even acknowledging how desperate you looked. Quinn put his thumb inside your mouth at the same time Juraj completely bottomed out inside you, making you scream around the brunette’s finger.
“Sh, sh,” Juraj mumbled under you. “Take it, hm?”
The stretch hurt, yet you couldn’t ask them to stop— you felt so full and you swear you can feel them rearranging your guts, reaching so deep inside your body that if you were to look, you’d probably see a bulge in your stomach.
“Holy shit, man,” Jack moaned, dragging his dick slowly until only the tip was in, so that he could slam it back into you again. “She’s so fucking tight.”
“Move, Hughes.” Juraj hissed under you, and after that, everything fell into a pure state of lust.
Jack and Juraj slammed their cocks inside you rhythmically, like they were dancing a well rehearsed dance. Your body jolted forward as they pounded inside you, rough hands— you didn’t know who's— holding you by your waist and pulling your hair at the same time.
Quinn, who had just been jerking his cock while looking at you, decides to take the opportunity and shove his dick inside you, making you gag around his thick length.
“Shit, Y/n,” he moans, throwing his head back. “I’m going to wreck your mouth like they’re doing with your pussy.”
And he wasn’t lying. He tilted your head to the side and thrust his dick deep inside your mouth, until your nose touched his crotch area. You gagged, still not used to the reckless act, but you were far too gone to complain.
The room smelled like sex, lust and sin. The dark walls watched as you laid on top of Juraj’s much bigger body while you took their cocks in two of your holes, with your pupils blown and wide. Your face was destroyed, it didn’t need to be a genius to realize that; your mascara had smudged under your eyes and the tears had spread the black ink almost everywhere.
Your legs hurt, and so did your jaw, but the pleasure was bigger than any pain. You had never felt this dirty, this raw before, but you feared that after this night, you wouldn’t ever be the same; nothing besides them would ever be enough.
“She feels so good,” Jack says, voice filled with need. “She was born for this.”
“Fuck, you’re right,” Juraj says, kissing your neck while you gagged around Quinn’s dick. “Born to take cock inside her tiny pussy.”
After that, you keep slipping and slipping. You come on their dicks at least twice, falling apart each time you feel your wetness coating their dicks.
Your throat is raw, your jaw is hurting, but Quinn is close to his climax, like his brother and Slaf.
Jack and Slaf are the first to come, both painting your walls white with their seed. It’s maddening, your belly feels full of them, but you don’t have time to acknowledge that properly, not when Quinn is also coming deep inside your throat.
You lay limp on top of Slaf’s broad chest, closing your eyes, tired.
But—
“Y/n, hey,” you hear Quinn calling, and you open your eyes, just barely. “Can you stand up, just for a bit?”
“Don’t let it go to waste, baby,” Juraj warns you, and you keep clenching even after they remove their dicks. It’s hard, you feel so open you should be disgusted at yourself but you still try to do as they said.
You feel a pair of hands lifting you, and you sigh, exhausted. They manhandled you until you were laying on top of the couch, head resting on your arms. A rough pair of hands— Jack’s— spread your legs open, leaving you exposed once again.
“Go on,” he commands, and you let it go, feeling their sticky cum pour out of your used, gaping pussy. You sob, feeling dirty.
“Jesus fuck.”
“I think I’m hard again.”
“Lowkey, yeah.”
You collapse on the couch once you feel like there’s nothing left, blacking out as soon as your head hits the leather.
𖧷
YOU WOKE up with a light touch on your cheek.
It takes a while for you to manage to open your eyes, but when you do, you thank whoever decided to put a yellow, warm lighting in that room.
“Hi.”
Jack’s voice brings you back to the present, and you lift your head, only then realising that you were in his lap, fully clothed— with clothes that weren’t yours— and covered with something heavy that felt like a blanket.
You frowned.
“What… what happened?” You ask, looking around. There was Juraj, who was placing a few takeout bags on the table, and Quinn, who was holding an old piece of cloth. “Oh my God.”
It was real. You fucked Jack, Juraj and Quinn.
“Oh my God,” you groan, hiding your face in Jack’s chest.
“I hope these exclamations of yours are because you’re wearing Zegras’ hideous clothes and not because you realized you fucked the three of us.” Jack says, sarcasm taking over his face.
“Why would we do that,” you mumble. “Gosh. That’s wrong in so many ways, I can’t even begin to—”
“Y/n,” Quinn calls you, dropping the cloth on the table— the same table Juraj had eaten you out on— and walking towards you, lifting your chin with two of his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I— Well— We—” you stumbled over your words, not sure of what to say.
He applies pressure on your chin, sapphire eyes squinting at you. “Answer me, sweetheart.”
“I—” you sighed. “Yeah. I did.”
He smiled.
“Then we’re fine.” It’s all he says, before pecking your lips, briefly. It was your first time kissing him and you secretly didn’t want it to be the last.
“We liked it too,” Jack says once his brother lets you go. He winks at you, smirking. “I’ll never forget the sight of you full with my—”
You put your hand over his mouth, red as an apple. “Okay, alright, shut up.”
He chuckles, taking your hand away and kissing you, exploring your mouth with his tongue, just like his brother had done, barely two minutes ago.
“You guys are no fun,” you hear Slaf’s voice. “In my opinion, we should just keep doing this.”
“No,” you say. “This was a one time thing. We can’t keep fucking each other like this.”
“As I said, no fun.”
“She’ll change her mind in a few days, I just know it.” Jack says under you and you roll your eyes at his cockiness.
“I’m too tired to argue with you,” you say. “I smell Chinese food. Can we eat?”
“Yeah, we should probably do that,” Quinn says, nodding. “It’s late already. Let’s eat and take Y/n home.”
Juraj and Jack agree with just a few more complaints, and while you watch them take turns to feed you, you realize, with shame, that Jack was wrong about one thing.
It wouldn’t take a few days for you to change your mind.
You had already done it.
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NHL MASTERLIST.
JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST.
QUINN HUGHES MASTERLIST.
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lunavagans · 2 days ago
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I‘m bored, so.
1: Biological dad overwhelmingly neutral. He‘s there. Biological mother, 50/50, it‘s good now, didn‘t use to be, still nervous around her. Step-parent I get along well with, but not all too open with.
2: Nobody ever as far as I know. If I have, it was my cat.
3: So many things. I would‘ve done few differently. Still regret them.
4: Yes.
5: Single.
6: I don‘t care much, as long as it‘s painless and I outlive my pets.
7: Toasted bread with boiled egg slices for a small dinner.
8: No.
9: No.
10: Never had one.
11: Romantically, maybe. I‘m not sure. Rarely see her, anyway, the chance that something might become of it is tiny.
12: No.
13: Yes. Two teachers I had that treated me horribly for reasons I still don‘t understand. Maybe also my grandfather? Unsure.
14: Yes. Many people.
15: Yes, two cats.
16: Bored. Kind of numb.
17: No.
18: Yes.
19: No? Depends. In my own life, no. Back to the dinosaur age, yes.
20: Never kissed someone, so y‘know.
21: Maybe go to a protest depending on how I feel by then on Saturday, on Sunday an outing with my father to get him off my back for a while.
22: None of my own. Could imagine raising some that a partner brings with them, or adopting some. Two at most, though.
23: No.
24: Not sure. My best ones were english, german and art.
25: So, so many people. Mostly acquaintances I didn‘t become friends with but thought I could.
26: … Relief from my back pain maybe?
27: No, don‘t think so.
28: No.
29: No.
30: I‘ve been procrastinating studying for a while now.
31: I hope so. I think my mother does.
32: Orange.
33: Might have. I think it‘s more along the lines of abandonment issues.
34: I never remember my dreams.
35: I can‘t remember. The last times I cried, I did so in private. Except for that one time a bee bit my lip?? But that was in pain and fear, not much more. It really hurt.
36: I never have, nobody ever really wronged me. I think I would, but I‘d try to cut them off if they messed up again.
37: To forget.
38: I wish.
39: Haven‘t had it yet. Kind of glad.
40: Yes, on the balconey as a child. I wanted to get fresh laundry to get dressed but didn‘t see the point in covering up for ten seconds, since nobody could really see, anyway.
51: Salmon with rice and lemon sauce.
52: The reason can be coincidence, so yes.
53: Brush my teeth. Last night I was too tired to do much else.
54: No.
55: I can be, sometimes. Usually, I don‘t notice because I don‘t control my tone of voice well or things like that.
56: Nobody.
57: No.
58: Sunny.
59: Yes.
60: Yes.
61: Depends on the tone.
62: Warm laundry. My cats. Oranges. Getting a question right. Noticing progress in a language. Making progress with a WIP. Spaghetti ice cream.
63: Yes.
64: Never kissed someone.
65: Don‘t have friends. I‘d think it‘s cool, though. Maybe I‘d want to kiss them at least once. I don‘t know.
66: I don‘t have anybody I can do that with.
67: My step-parent.
68: I don‘t remember. It‘s been a while.
69: No.
70: Yes. Now that I think about it, more than I‘d like.
70 horrible questions ... Fuck it
01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?
355K notes · View notes
aleskie · 2 days ago
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YOU DON'T NEED TO LIFT A FINGER | Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: When a guy just cannot get the hint, Jack makes sure to put him in his place. He's got your back. Always.
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Warnings: none!! pure fluff and jack gets protective!! Full discloure, this is for realsies Fem!Reader!! Author's Note: This was supposed to come out a dayyyyys ago but Tumblr was NOT letting me post my drafts 😭😭 my poor therapist spent an hour watching me crash out about it najsjsshjjk
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You were beautiful.
Of course you were.
In Jack’s eyes, you were the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth.
Which is why he understands why you get hit on. He really does. Hell, once upon a time, he was hitting on you. And he still hits on you, even now, years into the relationship, because you’re worth it. Because you light up rooms without even trying. Because he’s always been a sucker for the way you roll your eyes and smile at his cheesy attempts to be smooth with you.
You’re beautiful and smart and funny, and you’re so effortlessly charming—of course people would want you for themselves. He gets it. He really does. And honestly, there’s a part of him that loves it. He loves that people notice those qualities about you, that they see in you what he sees every day. It feels like validation, like the universe itself is confirming that he’s the luckiest guy alive. He basks in the knowledge that no matter how many people give you those hungry looks and shitty pick-up lines, he’s the one you're coming home with, his hand resting possessively on your hip as he gives all those people a smirk, his claim laid without him even lifting a finger.
What he doesn’t love is when people don’t take the damn hint.
And you give a lot of hints.
Take this guy right here—Dave, or Doug, or whatever his name is—He’d somehow wiggled his way into the booth you guys shared with your friends for a night out and, while he seemed harmless at first, he was now solely focused on you. And your legs that were highlighted by the body shimmer Jack helped put on you earlier tonight (his fingers still slightly shimmering to prove it—a badge of honor, in his opinion).
You’d been giving him that polite, fake smile since he joined in—the one Jack knows so well and that always makes him chuckle, the one you use when you’re being patient but are clearly not enjoying yourself—and you’ve barely paid him any attention, save for a few fake laughs and an “Oh, that sounds cool” every so often as Darren, or Dino, continues to brag about himself, not even trying to ask about you (a grave mistake, Jack thinks, since you were the most interesting person he knew).
Jack wonders if this guy even realizes you’ve been leaning against Jack this entire time, your head on his shoulder and his hand resting on your upper thigh, or if he’s chosen to ignore that in favor of trying (and failing) to shoot his shot. Better yet, does he even recognize Jack is here, drink untouched and jaw tightening as he watches Danny (or was it Dylan) lean in just a little too close?
Jack glances at you. You’re still handling it with grace, of course you are. You always do. But he knows you. He sees the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way you lean further against him to put some distance between you and Dexter, the way your fingers tighten around your glass, and he knows you’d rather not have to deal with this.
He shifts slightly and stands, leaning forward to smile at the intruder, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Hey, Diego, right?” he says. His tone is casual, even pleasant, but there’s steel underneath it.
“It’s Dave, actua—”
Jack extends a hand, cutting through the guy’s attempt at small talk. “Right, yeah. Sorry to interrupt, but I think my girlfriend and I are gonna go dance now.”
He puts an emphasis on girlfriend, just to make sure this guy gets the point.
Jack gives you a soft look, the kind that makes your breath hitch just a little, and you immediately stand up, reaching for him. His arm wraps around you instinctively, his touch steady and familiar. You can already feel the tension in his body lessening now that he has you close, now that he’s leading you away from whatever-his-name-is and back into the safe, easy rhythm of you and him.
But before you can leave, the guy speaks again.
“Sorry, man, didn’t realize she was yours. You know how women are. With that dress and those legs, she was totally leading me on.”
Jack freezes.
For a second, the world seems to pause, almost like he couldn’t believe what was coming out of this guy’s mouth, like he didn’t want to believe anyone could be that stupid.
Slowly, he straightens, turning back toward the guy—Dave or Doug or whatever his name was—with a look so calm it’s almost serene. Too calm. And that’s how you know Jack is angry.
Not the playful kind of angry, where he pretends to pout when you steal the last fry or kiss him everywhere but his lips. Not the frustrated kind, like when he can’t find his keys for the third time that week or when he’s had a particularly bad game.
No, this is something deeper. Colder. Controlled.
His fingers graze your arm lightly, a small, grounding touch meant just for you. It’s subtle, but you know what it means. I’ve got this. You don’t need to lift a finger.
Jack tilts his head ever so slightly. “You wanna say that again?” His voice is so even it borders on soft, a quiet thing wrapped in steel.
Dave—or Dino or Darryl—seems to think Jack is inviting him to elaborate, which is perhaps the worst decision he’s made all night.
“I’m just saying, y’know,” Dave shrugs, his tone shifting to something almost conspiratorial, like he thinks Jack might actually agree with him if he just explains it better. “When women dress like that, you can’t blame a guy for—”
“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to shut up before I do something we both regret.”
Jack doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. The weight of his words alone is enough to send a ripple of silence through the space between them.
Dave blinks, the beginning stages of intimidation creeping onto his face. He glances at you, as if expecting backup, but you’re already leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised as you watch Jack dismantle him.
There’s a small smirk on your lips. Because this? This was a sight you didn’t get to see in public too often.
Many times, people assumed your lovely boyfriend—so easygoing, so effortlessly charming—would lack the sharpness to cut someone down when needed, would stick to uhmms and ahhhs and crassnes.
They mistook his laid-back nature for passivity, his warmth for softness. But you knew better. Your Jack could be quite a wonder with words when he wanted to be. He didn’t need to be loud to command attention. He didn’t need to throw a punch to land a hit.
So you hang back and let him handle this one, finding comfort in the thought of his arms around you later, his breath warm against your ear as you danced the rest of the night away.
“Listen, buddy,” Jack continues, stepping closer. His tone is light, almost conversational, but there’s no mistaking the edge beneath it. “You don’t talk to anyone like that. You definitely don’t get to talk to her like that. You hear me?”
“God, c’mon, man! No need to get all—”
“I already told you to shut up.” Jack’s scowl deepens. His words are slow, deliberate. “The fact that she was polite enough to give you the slightest bit of attention doesn’t mean she was hitting on you. Whatever you thought was going on tonight? Not an invitation.”
Dave—Dino? Derek?—opens his mouth, probably to dig himself into an even deeper hole, but stops when Jack leans in slightly, just enough to make his presence feel heavier. Like a storm cloud about to break.
“She’s kind,” Jack says, voice quieter now, deadlier. “So she tolerated you. But she doesn’t owe you a fucking thing.”
The last of Dave’s bravado starts to crumble. His shoulders inch inward, his gaze flickering around the booth, searching for an exit, for reinforcements—for anything that might save him from this moment.
Jack watches him for a second longer, then exhales sharply, like he’s already bored. “You think being desperate and cocky gets you the girl,” he says, shaking his head. “But I don’t need any of that to keep her by my side.” His fingers brush against yours, finding their place like they always do. “And we don’t need to waste any more time entertaining douchebags like you.”
Jack steps back, his hand sliding fully into yours as he finally tears his gaze from Daniel? Don?—who cares?—and looks at you instead. The shift is immediate, his features easing, the sharpness in his eyes softening into something familiar. Something yours.
“Let’s go, babe,” he says simply, his voice lighter now, more like himself.
And just like that, the moment is over.
As you stand, letting Jack guide you away from the booth, you hear Dave mutter something under his breath—something weak and defensive that doesn’t deserve acknowledgment. It’s the kind of parting shot people throw out when they know they’ve lost. Neither of you glance back.
The music swells around you, the bass thrumming beneath your feet, but Jack doesn’t lead you straight to the dance floor. Instead, he pulls you toward a quieter corner, away from the crowd, where the lights are dimmer, the world a little smaller.
He exhales, then wordlessly nestles his head in the crook of your shoulder.
You smile, running your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly grazing his scalp. He sighs at the touch, his arms slipping around your waist as he lets himself melt into you for just a moment. You press a soft kiss to his hair, breathing him in, grounding both of you in something steady, something real.
After a beat, he tilts his head up, a sheepish grin playing at his lips. “Did I go overboard?”
You roll your eyes fondly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You were absolutely perfect,” you murmur, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.
His grin widens, boyish and bright, and just like that, the weight of the night lifts. He tugs you closer, his arm tightening around your waist as he starts to sway you to the music. You laugh as he spins you unexpectedly, sneaking in kisses between the DJ’s transitions, his lips catching your temple, your jaw, the curve of your shoulder.
The man who bothered you is forgotten. The tension, the sharp edges of the night—gone.
All that’s left is this. You and him and the music. The warmth of his hands on you, the sound of your laughter melting together, the rest of the world fading into nothing.
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threeacttragedy · 3 days ago
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Entry 18: The One Where Two Roads Diverged in a Wood of GIFs and Written Words
“Lukola Crisis Hotline. How may I be of service?”
Me: Houston, we have a problem.
Dad: Do tell!
Me: You won’t believe who showed up last night! –
Dad: Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness! Whoa! I don’t know what to say! Wait – let me grab my Coke and my smokes. <waiting> Okay, I’m back. So, Misty appeared out of nowhere with Thang?! Well, this just got fun! <laughing>
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For clarity’s sake, my father tends to give everyone a pet name. Some of the pet names are funny; some are quite cruel. But if they help him remember who the players are in this fandom (and in any other situation), I’m game to play along. Plus, his pet names tend to add a little comedy relief to whatever is being discussed, especially when it is not an outwardly funny subject.
In Lukola-Land, Luke is “Thang” (it’s actually “Thing” – as in the hand from The Addams Family – but my dad’s accent muddles the pronunciation into “Thang”); Nicola is “Ireland,” for obvious reasons; Antonia is “Misty,” for, umm, the Clint Eastwood movie, “Play Misty for Me;” and Jake is – well, Jake is actually just “Jake” because my father finds the USS Jakola offensive. In fact, when I was discussing the recent fandom events with him on Friday evening, my dad was genuinely shocked to learn the Jakolas still existed. His pet name for the Jakolas is “Fucking Stupid,” by the way.
Moving on to the matter at hand –
There’s been so much “noise” over the past few weeks that, when taken collectively, it is rather eye-opening. We’ve got Luke’s mother posting on Facebook about “Luke’s girlfriend…from Cyprus.” The leaked funeral video and photos (by allegedly Luke’s family). The Best in Show pap pictures of Nicola and Jake. The “just friends” interview. The disappearance of Jake (because he’s rehearsing for a play) and the sudden reemergence of Antonia.
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If you’ve noticed from my recent entries on this blog, I have obviously found most of what has happened of late to be comical and not worth putting into written word. Instead, my thoughts have been dumped into GIF stories. To be honest, I was rather disappointed I couldn’t put this last part – Antonia emerging from the misty edges of the forest – entirely into a GIF story. Her reappearance was like a certain Bond villain coming back to life for the seventh time. In other words, it was total cringe. But it also altered an otherwise slow burning campfire into a motherfucking forest fire.
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Me: Thoughts?
Dad: I need some time to think about this one – and a cigarette. Or two. Call me back in 15 minutes.
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“Psychotic Fan Rescue Center, at your service.”
Me: You’re a dumbass.
Dad: <laughing> Well, this is insane. It makes no sense and it’s a convoluted mess. Why bring Misty back? She was killed off two seasons ago.
Me: No shit, Sherlock.
Dad: Hell, maybe this has all been a nest of vipers.
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A nest of vipers? Ah, yes, the idea that we have a group of venomous snakes thrown into the same close-quartered trench – in an every-man-for-himself type situation – each taking strikes at the others whenever their backs are turned.
In Entries 1, 13, and 15 – with an emphasis on “Entry 13: The One Where the Ashes Blew Towards Us with the Salt Wind from the Sea” – I wrote about what the Lutonia narrative could look like, if real. I will not rehash in detail those entries here, but I will link them at the end of this entry if you want to read, or reread, them.
Now, the General Audience almost certainly didn’t pay a lick of attention to Antonia when she appeared alongside Luke at the Boss event held January 30 (she’s always just been a Face in the Crowd). But the sudden reappearance of Antonia stopped the Lukolas dead in their tracks because – like my dad said – she was seemingly killed off two seasons ago.
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The Lukolas have suddenly found themselves at an intersection of confusion and, likely, a bit of distress. The long and winding road we’ve been traveling along has diverged into two paths – and, no, you cannot travel both.
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The problem with the Lutonia narrative has always been that Luke has never formally acknowledged Antonia as his girlfriend. In fact, Luke had the perfect opportunity to do so when he posted about the Boss event on his Instagram grid – but he did not. I could rationalize the idea that Luke and Antonia wanted to keep their relationship private after the Papsmear misstep if it weren’t for the fact that Antonia has been historically loud in her social media posts. We spent the summer and fall with insinuation post after insinuation post from Antonia. Yes, all those posts that alluded to her being with Luke without any actual evidence that she was, in fact, with Luke. By the time Antonia got to “Pasta-gate” in mid-November, the Lukola fandom barely even blinked before dismissing her as, well, the antagonist from “Play Misty for Me.” And this leads to something even more problematic for the USS Lutonia – Luke has never rescued Antonia from being ridiculed and torn apart by the fandom. My dad would call – and has called – Luke a cad for this.
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Jumping to the other side of this misshapen triangle, we have Nicola and her Assassin (my dad’s pet name for JVN). Assuming Lutonia is real, the only logical answer for Nicola’s behavior is that she has spent months trolling Luke, Antonia, and <gasp> the fandom. Nicola herself has admitted to being chronically online and, at a minimum, being aware of fan edits – so much so that during the London premiere she commented that she and Luke “can’t do anything” without the fandom reacting to it. Therefore, I will call “foul” on anyone who tries to persuade me that Nicola was unaware of, at a minimum, how the Lukola fandom had reacted to the Claddagh ring, Chaos Week, and the October airplane posts. JVN openly mocking Antonia on social media with, for example, their Slick Back Bun routine only added fuel to this fire.
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For shits and giggles – and so I can get to the bend in this road – we will roll with my dad’s “Nest of Vipers” theory for a moment. We will concede that Lutonia is real, which, in my opinion, makes Luke the absolute worst boyfriend in London and Antonia a woman who doesn’t mind being treated like roadkill. It also, unfortunately, makes Nicola and Fan Favorite JVN come off like online bullies – with the only plausible reasoning for the bullying being that Luke and Nicola are at odds with each other. No, I take that back – they’re not at odds with each other – they’re seemingly at war with each other. I’ll even amp this up a bit and throw in the suggestion that, assuming Lutonia is real, Netflix & Co. is aware of the strife between its two Polin actors and are protecting their asset with blurred Polin-Lukola posts to pacify the fandom. Dun-Dun-DUNN! And yes! That was a sly nod to Jake.
Me: Thanks for that. You just made Luke into an absolute prick and gave Antonia’s starring role in “Play Misty for Me” to Nicola.
Dad: Hey, I’m not the one who dug up Misty! That was all Thang!
Me: Then why does everyone say Luke is the nicest person? Nicola, his co-stars –  
Dad: All lies.
Me: Would you STOP?!
Dad: But I’m serious! Thang could be a complete pig behind closed doors and Ireland could be on the verge of a psychotic meltdown because, uhh, maybe she’s obsessed with Thang and pissed he chose Misty.
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The unfortunate thing about this Nest of Vipers theory is that I could almost certainly make a convincing argument that it was legit. I’ve always joked with my Inner Circle of Lukolas that no one wants to see me go rogue, especially not – I’ll bite my tongue on that one. But I will emphasize the importance of keeping an open mind when you’re reviewing information. Always consider both sides of the coin. That said, it’s hard to ignore the evidence that was presented to us through the World Tour interviews and behind-the-scenes footage; therefore –
Me: I’m having a hard time believing Luke is someone who wouldn’t protect his girlfriend. He seems to support Nicola online quite a bit. Why wouldn’t he do the same for Antonia?
Dad: <laughing> Fine. Antonia isn’t his girlfriend. Maybe it’s all just a bunch of fuckery like I’ve always said.
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“Fuckery” is my dad’s pet name for PR bullshit. If you didn’t pick up on it in previous entries, I am not fond of PR theories. But I also cannot ignore that PR relationships do exist and have for decades (hell, we could go back centuries and find examples of PR relationships across multiple noble and royal families – think about that, naysayers). It was my dad who first sold me on the possibility of Antonia being PR. So, I will consider this road to PR-ville in the same manner as I did the Nest of Vipers theory – with this PR theory having perhaps the better claim.
I mentioned earlier that the General Audience almost certainly paid little attention to Antonia’s existence at the Boss event. Although some people may find what I’m about to say a bit unkind, it doesn’t make it any less valid (and I’m not saying it to be cruel): Antonia, in the overall scheme of things, is of very little importance to the General Audience. She has less than 15 thousand followers on Instagram, even after being connected to a man who has almost three million. However, oddly enough, that didn’t prevent the Daily Mail from dropping a story which predominantly focused on Antonia within the same timeframe that images from the Boss event were being dropped on the Internet. It also didn’t prevent video footage of Luke and Antonia at the Boss event from being leaked online almost immediately – even when there were undoubtedly more famous celebrities attending the event. I’ll be realistic with this next comment, too: Luke may be relevant to the Bridgerton fandom, but that does not mean he is significant to, say, People Magazine’s average reader. So, why the sudden burst of publicity at this event?
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I waited to write this entry to see what Luke did with the exposure from the Boss event. Would he finally put Antonia on his Instagram grid? Would he put her in his Instagram stories? Would Antonia post pictures from the event on her Instagram grid or stories? Would Luke unambiguously acknowledge a relationship with Antonia?
Although Luke posted to his Instagram grid and stories about the event, he did not include Antonia – at least not directly. The closest he came to including Antonia was via an Instagram story – on which he did not tag her – of a black screen with a link to a Boss TikTok that included images of Luke and Antonia from the event. The TikTok did not tag Antonia either. Luke did not post Antonia’s image to his grid or his stories.
And Antonia didn’t post about the event at all.
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I wasn’t sold on a PR narrative when I started writing this entry, but my eyebrows raised when I saw Luke’s “black screen” Instagram story. This was either Luke attempting to circumvent the Lutonia narrative while throwing Antonia a bone, or it was Luke being an absolute douche of a human being. And, if it’s the latter, Mr. Newton needs to check himself into Assholes Anonymous.
I will concede that a couple of mutuals put up a few stories about the event (which disappeared after 24 hours) and Boss included (and tagged) Luke and Antonia in an Instagram and TikTok reel – without formally identifying Antonia as Luke’s girlfriend. On a side note, Luke could have reposted either of these reels – which tagged Antonia – but he did not. Luke also did not like this Boss Instagram reel with Antonia in it (and he does not have a public TikTok account), but Luke did like a separate Boss post of him and David Beckham (without Antonia). The only news outlets that called Antonia Luke’s “girlfriend” were rag-mags like the Daily Mail and Hello, both of which put an emphasis on Antonia. Digital Spy noted that Luke and Antonia “have yet to officially confirm their relationship.” So outside of some tagged reels (that weren’t reposted or acknowledged by Luke) and rag-mag speculation, what did Antonia get from this?
Dad: Publicity.
A single word but one that resonates throughout an otherwise silent wood.
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But to be honest, I’m not entirely convinced this was for publicity. I’m not saying I believe Antonia is Luke’s girlfriend either – that’s a whole cauldron of contradictions on its own. I’m simply intrigued that Antonia has her Instagram tags turned off and she has not yet allowed any Boss event tags to appear on her page. So, outside of some junky rag-mag callouts and a few TikToks, what benefit did Antonia receive? And, if Antonia didn’t truly benefit from this appearance (or, at least she doesn’t appear to be reaping the rewards from a girlfriend or PR standpoint), who did benefit?
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I mentioned at the beginning of this post that a series of events had happened one after the other over a relatively short two-week period: (1) Luke’s mum mentioning “Luke’s girlfriend…from Cyprus” in a Facebook response; (2) leaked video and photos of Luke from a funeral; (3) those utterly ridiculous pap pictures of Nicola and Jake; (4) Nicola stating she and Luke were “just friends” in an interview; and (5) the sudden summoning of Antonia after exactly six months of being MIA.
As I sat here writing out the events of the past two weeks – and considering the reappearance of Antonia – I couldn’t help but speculate as to whether each of these events was meant to have a specific purpose that didn’t get its desired result.
The comment by Luke’s mother was so far out in left field, most Lukolas chucked it up to being suspicious and dismissed it as such. The funeral pictures and video released by one of Luke’s family members was quickly scrubbed from social media; therefore, just as quickly ignored. The pap pictures of Nicola and Jake were openly mocked across social media as being staged. The “just friends” comment – after almost a year of, particularly, Nicola dodging that phrase – didn’t seem to send many Lukolas overboard. Is it possible that the fandom’s mild reaction to all these events wasn’t anticipated? Which leads me to wonder if Luke and Nicola wanted a reaction and realized the only way they were going to get it was to play the only card they had left – Antonia.  
When you look at the above referenced events individually and collectively, they appear to indicate a push to shut down the Lukola narrative. Why?
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They could have shut down the Lukolas before the World Tour even took off. They could have shut down the Lukolas during the World Tour. They could have shut down the Lukolas after Papsmear. Why wait almost a full year to draw the line in the sand? Especially after every devoted Lukola would argue that (mostly) Nicola has left a trail of Swiftie-like clues to insinuate Lukola is real, and that Luke has made a visible effort to remove Antonia from his narrative.
Whatever the reasoning may be, we must admit Antonia’s reappearance had a purpose – and one that we need to respect. I have a hard time believing Luke would voluntarily step in the same pile of dog shit he stepped in back in June without a valid and significant reason for doing so.
And this is where I will draw the line.
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I will not speculate further about why Antonia suddenly rose from the ashes of Manderley – and I will not tell you which road to take from here. That’s something you need to do on your own but, be warned that regardless of which road you choose – the one where you conclude Luke and Antonia are a couple, or the one where you decide Antonia is playing the role of PR distraction – the Lukolas are currently fighting a losing battle.
The Lukolas have become collateral damage. They’ve either been caught in the crossfire of an online war between Luke and Nicola (and their respective sidekicks) over, presumably, Antonia; or they’re the unwitting victims of some messy PR bullshit that has resulted in Lukolas being bullied across every social media platform by rabid Jakolas and Anti-Lukes.
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Amazingly, though, many Lukolas remain resilient.
When the going gets tough…
But sometimes the tough don’t get going.
Yesterday, someone wrote to me, “Why are we still here? Just when we think something good is finally going to happen we get pushed back down. I’m tired of the dumb games.”
I rarely answer “Asks,” but my response to this comment is:
“Two roads diverged in a wood…”
Two roads.
One road is quite disheartening and the other is shrouded in underbrush.
But what you've overlooked is that there is an alternate path – a third road – the one that brought you to this point.
Turn around.
That road takes you back home – and, if you’re ready to go home, go home. It’s okay. It takes an unbelievable amount of courage to admit you’ve had enough. Remember that saying – “A wise woman once said, ‘fuck this shit,’ and she lived happily ever after.”
Take your time and decide what makes the most sense to you.
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Dad: What are you thinking?
Me: Of a poem.
Dad: Oh, which one today?
Me: “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by…”
Dad: Which road is that…?
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P.S. Just for a bit of comic relief at the end of an otherwise somber post (not even Dad could make it lighthearted), I just wanted to say:
I love eating grapes.
IYKYK.
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Those links I promised:
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martinsharmony · 3 days ago
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it's funny because my ex boyfriend and I used to argue about this. It's partly the reason we broke up. He was kind of a WWII buff which was weird because at the time he was in his early 30's and I dunno I figure it's usually only old guys who are into WWII.
Anyway, I went on a trip to Germany to go to a concert and visit family. When I came back I told him how my relative so graciously showed me around and we went to the holocaust memorial etc. It's been like 12 years so I don't remember much but he was basically saying that the Germans themselves were "to blame" for Hitler's rise, and that they had no right to escape via tunnels etc because they voted for him. They put him into power. They supported him. I mean yes technically I knew this but it's so much more complicated than that. He tends to think in black and white.
I was like but what about those who did not vote for him? They get blamed too? He basically said yes because they did not move away to another country or ferociously resist. I thought this was entirely unworkable. people have families. lives. jobs. responsibilities. They love their home land. etc. I mean yeah sure some probably did that but many were probably not able to.
Right now, said ex boyfriend married a trans-male. He and spouse are ferociously anti-Trump. They are considering moving to Massachusetts because guess what? Spouse has a son and an ex husband they share custody with that they can't just pick up and go to another country. They can't even move to Mass now because of the child. And we live in Texas.
We are good friends after the break up, but I really wonder if he ever thinks about our argument that day.
Unthinkable that 12 years later, we would be experiencing that same exact thing here in the US.
Yo, correct me if I am wrong please, but didn't Hitler rise to power because he promised to fix the German economy and people really liked that so they looked past everything else he was doing??? Like exactly what's happening in America right now???
So many people said they voted for Trump, put a truly evil person in power, because he said he'd fix the economy, and a little voice in my head is going, "Isn't that what happened with fucking Hitler??"
But I've seen no one point that out so maybe I'm miss remembering???????
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grvait · 2 days ago
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more old art!! featuring theo and my human harley fan design!! RUN THEODORE RUN (he's cooked)
im gonna talk about chapter 4 under here so only click if ur ok with spoilers! also its a huge yapfest. like HUUGE. i just want to voice my opinions about prototype because i've seen ppl sort of miss the point of what happened at the end of the chapter
I LOVED CHAPTER 4! IT WAS SO COOL!! i was sooo worried but im glad it turned out good. rip pianosaurus tho..
tldr (for the bunch of paragraphs where I talk abt prototype)
prototype being ollie is deranged because it means he was terrorizing the toys of safe haven on purpose for the fun of it when he could have killed them at any time. he also created an extremely close emotional bond with poppy for OVER A DECADE just to tear it all away from her at the end and tell her it was meaningless (he then proceeds to taunt her over the phone abt it). bro is LITERALLY TROLLING
you cant tell me that final scene w the "ive got something special in mind. i prepared it just for you, and this time you'll never want to leave." isnt some tom and jerry shit
ABT PROTOTYPE REVEALING HIMSELF AS OLLIE... (the long explanation)
we ALL knew he was ollie, but i don't think people are seeing the point of this reveal. it wasn't about revealing himself to us the player, it's about the implications that arise from it. he had been playing both sides for 10+ YEARS. that's deranged enough but not even CLOSE to the end of it
as ollie he had emotionally supported poppy in her lowest moments (as heard in the ollie and poppy tape). this tape also insinuates that (at least around the time it was recorded) the two of them called frequently, possibly every night. he wasn't just pretending to be everyone's ally, he was PRETENDING TO BE THEIR CLOSEST FRIEND THAT THEY COULD VENT TO 😭 he heard this poor girl sob into the phone and tell him about how she felt her humanity being taken from her, AND HE KEPT UP THE CHARADE AND COMFORTED HER, KNOWING THIS PATH HAD BAD INTENTIONS
what's worse than all of that, though, is that him being ollie means that at any time in the last 10 years he could have used the persona to force his way into safe haven. AT ANY TIME HE COULD HAVE KILLED THEM ALL. HE COULD SIMPLY USE THE OLLIE VOICE AND ASK THEM TO OPEN THE DOOR. why is this worse, you ask? because HE WAS LITERALLY TERRORIZING THEM ON PURPOSE.
think about the note in the cart/cave area. a toy from safe haven writes that prototype was right outside the door the night before, he'd gotten past the traps and was just tapping on the wall and staring. they said after he was gone they still felt they could hear it. HE IS LITERALLY BEING SCARY ON PURPOSE???? LEGIT TRAUMATIZING THEM AND FOR NO REASON. HE COULD GET IN THERE, HE'S SIMPLY CHOOSING TO MAKE THEIR LIVES HELL
so thats crazy.. BUT ALSO THE ENDING? in the poppy and ollie tape he says "im right here, poppy. for you. i'll always be here." AND AT THE END OF THE GAME, WHEN POPPY ASKS WHAT HE DID WITH OLLIE, HE SAYS THAT. you know what that means? that means he said that shit to her ALL THE TIME. clearly only the two of them would be familiar with the phrase which is why after he said it, she immediately knew he was ollie the whole time
i feel bad for poppy. she ran off but she was valid for that. all her friends from safe haven are dead, the only ones left are the player, kissy and ollie, but she soon realizes that ollie is WORSE than dead. he is LITERALLY HER ENEMY. the thousands of conversations they had, probably hundreds of times she vented and told him her plans and discussed her life with him? ALL FOR NOTHING. any time she thought she was winning the past 10 years was a lie, she was ALWAYS LOSING because he was GETTING ALL THE INFO FROM THEM. she genuinely never had a chance and i think she realized that
in her dialogue you can tell she's grieving ollie (obviously he IS prototype, but i think she's grieving the thought of him). saying "you lied to me" to the prototype of all people is absurd (considering he's done far worse than lie) but when you think about how she feels, it makes sense.
also the part where she said "this isn't right". again, a weird thing to say to him of all people, but if you put yourself in her shoes she's grieving the friend she thought she had, and she's struggling to grapple with the fact that it all meant nothing. somewhere in her mind she believes "ollie" as a personality is there somewhere, because how could someone be that close with you and mean none of it? she thinks that voicing this pain he's inflicted will change his mind, but it won't. and that's why it's genuinely really sad. that's why she asks if there was ever an ollie. i don't think she meant it literally, and i don't think his answer was literal either. she didn't mean "were you a mf named ollie once" she meant it like "was our friendship ever genuine?" which makes his response both heartbreaking and interesting.
so not only is her world shattered now, most of her friends are dead and the one who wasn't turned out to be her opp, but now he's TAUNTING HER OVER THE PHONE AND THREATENING HER. nice one... (loved the quip after she ran off btw. that shit was hilarious. like bro u made her crash out and went "some friend, huh?" YOU CANT SAY THAT BRO)
anyway think of it from her perspective: everyone you knew is gone, and soon the only 2 people that remain will be too. you can't run, or hide, or do anything. he WILL find you, and when he does he'll lock you away FOREVER where NOBODY WILL BE LEFT TO SAVE YOU. I WOULD RUN TOO.............. plus her running off probably led him away so.. she saved us sorta.
ALL THAT TO SAY THAT I REALLY LIKE THE OLLIE REVEAL FOR REASONS FAR BEYOND A SIMPLE TWIST. him being ollie for over a decade raises many many questions, and suggests very dark things.
hes crazy and the fact he did a monologue means he knows he won. he wouldn't have spilled the beans otherwise...
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azzibuckets · 18 hours ago
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All Fell Down ~Part 2~
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paige bueckers x azzi fudd
*masterlist in collab w/ @imaginespazzi*
a/n: here’s my first part (azzi’s perspective)!! i know these chapters are short lol but bear with us :) let us know your thoughts!
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It’s almost two in the morning and Paige is on the sticky floor of a filthy bathroom. She feels the burn in the throat where it’s raw from having puked up the shots she’d pounded earlier, and she feels the ache in her knees from kneeling from so long. She’s conscious of all this, and yet the thing that hurts the most is the excruciating feeling of half of me is missing throbbing in her heart.
From behind her, Paige hears the sound of shoes shuffling against tile. If she shuts her eyes hard enough she can almost smell the floral undertones of Azzi’s favorite perfume, feel the familiar comfort of Azzi’s calloused palm against her cheek. Her heart beats rampant as she indulges herself in thoughts of Azzi could be here, Azzi could be here and take Paige in her arms and everything would somehow be alright. But then a hand reaches out to smooth her hair back, wrapping a hair tie two times around before pulling it into a ponytail, and Paige has to swallow her hopes.
Azzi always ties it three times.
“I told you to slow down earlier.” Evina’s voice is gentle but firm, and Paige doesn’t have to look at her friend in the eyes to feel the disappointment dripping off her words.
Paige spits into the toilet one last time, trying to escape the bitter feeling of bile coating her tongue. “I’m fine,” she mutters, unleashing her long blonde hair and plumping it up in the mirror. “Just needed some space.” She studies herself in the mirror. She’s paler than usual, and her forehead is covered in a light sheen of sweat. But other than that, she looks pretty decent, even though she doesn’t feel like it at all. But isn’t life always about pretending?
“You’re going back out there?” Evina asks, not bothering to hide the judgment on her face.
“We just beat Notre Dame by 20 points. I think I deserve to let loose for one night.” Paige is on the defensive, but she doesn’t know why. Even she knows that she’s self-destructing, has been for the last two weeks. But what else are you supposed to do when she can’t stop missing something that she never had?
Evina’s eyebrows furrow, and Paige’s heart drops as the older girl’s face slowly morphs into pity. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“The way all of you guys keep looking at me.” Paige’s voice comes out strangled. She rubs harshly at her eyes as they start to dampen, willing herself to hold it together for one more goddamn second. Paige has gotten used to breaking down over the past year, but Azzi had always been one call away and now, for the last few months, only one hall away. But this time Azzi isn’t here to put her back together, and now she’s picking up the pieces alone.
“Getting drunk isn’t a healthy way to cope with your problems.”
“And what are my problems, Evina?” P aige laughs mockingly. “The fact that I can’t have a normal conversation with my best friend anymore? That I stutter if I talk to her for longer than five seconds? That I have to create space between us when it’s the last fucking thing I wanna do?” One after another, the words tumble out of her mouth, a cacophony of hurt and bitterness, and Paige presses a hand to her lips as she realizes what she’s done.
“You think we pity you?” Evina says incredulously. “Honestly, Paige, you’re the one who pities yourself.” The hardness of Evina’s tone yanks Paige out of her drunken stupor. She blinks at her teammate, at a loss for words. “Azzi’s the one who’s alone in her dorm right now. Azzi’s the one who’s sidelined with an injury and can’t play for god knows how long. Azzi’s the one who got to this school four months ago and needed, needs, her best friend to help guide her through everything, but is getting ignored because you’re too pussy to do anything about it.”
Evina turns to leave, but looks over her shoulder as she opens the door. Paige expects a glare, but the older girl’s eyes are uncharacteristically soft, the corners creased, and Paige thinks that’s even worse. “Go home, Paige. I mean it.”
Paige slumps against the wall, her mind reeling. Before she knows it, her phone is in her hand, the screen opened up to a photo of her and Azzi from her birthday a few years ago. Azzi’s arm is wrapped tightly around her, and Paige is leaning into her touch, like she always seems to subconsciously do. She remembers how Azzi’s hand had lingered on her waist even after Katie had put her camera down. She remembers clasping their hands together under the table, their fingers and their futures intertwined in a way that couldn’t be undone. She remembers being in the bathroom at the end of the night, drunk off chocolate and sugar and everything Azzi when she’d told her best friend that she was her favorite person in the entire world.
Paige doesn’t know she’s crying until a teardrop lands on her screen, but she hurriedly brushes it away before tapping on the number under the picture and bringing the phone to her ear.
“Paige?”
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sulkybender · 17 hours ago
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One trend on ao3 that I feel uneasy about is the increased use of “author is trans” “author is disabled” “author is ace” etc tags.
On the one hand I can understand how it can feel like a reassuring sign for readers who are trans/disabled/ace etc that their lives are less likely to be misrepresented in that fic because the writer has lived experience.
But at the same time, when we’re writing fanfiction—about kids who can manipulate the force of the waves, about necromancy, about flying on dragons—I think the suggestion that you need to have lived experience to write sensitively about something is so limiting.
Like if we aren’t exercising the full force of our imaginations and empathy in fanfiction, where exactly are we doing it?
It also makes me sad because sometimes you can tell from the nervousness of the author’s note that the writer felt they had to justify their writing with their lived experience. And I don’t think you should feel ethically obligated to gesture toward personal and often painful aspects of your identity to justify writing you do in your spare time that makes you happy.
Some of the best fics I’ve read about disability have been written by authors that didn’t have experience with that exact condition and did heartfelt research and really let themselves inhabit it. And I think that’s a bravura display of empathy and the very best that fiction can offer: caring about a character enough, and caring about your readers enough, that you want to understand what it’s like.
Sometimes friends have asked me about my visual disability to better understand Zuko for their stories, and I’ve always found it really moving. It means they care so much about the fictional world that they want to get the real world right too. It means they’re learning and growing so they can make stories about disability.
It means they love the show, and it means they love me.
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lnfours · 2 days ago
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focal point ☆ chapter 5 | l.n
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summary: oh damn, never seen that color blue…
warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy x sunshine, some more filler (IM SORRY ITS FOR THE PLOT!!!!!), fluff (EEKK!!!!), subtle foreshadowing, unedited as fuck, and hints at a strained family relationship (trauma!!)
message from jordan: hi everyone! long time no see, huh? 😅 i'm so sorry for being mia and for not updating this series in so long, i decided to take a small break from almost all socials. but don't worry, we're back and better than ever <3 as always, thank you for being so patient with me. i hope this chapter is worth the wait!! see you soon, for real this time :) - p.s i hope you enjoy that taylor swift reference in the summary, cause, iykyk 🙂‍↕️
series masterlist | listen to the playlist
“hellloooo earth to oscar!”
it was no use. this was the third time he had unintentionally interrupted your conversation to respond to a text. all while doing so with a giddy smile, one you had never seen light up his face quite like this one did.
you had come over right after class, the two of you agreeing to hang out and catch up. it had been a while since it had just been the two of you hanging out, the inevitable busy schedules really hitting hard during your last semester. you missed your best friend.
missed meaning past tense. because although he was your best friend, right now, you wanted to snap his neck.
"oscar jack piastri!"
"oh- sorry," he mumbled the same apology for the third time this afternoon, "sorry, i was just texting someone. it's nothing, what were we talking about?"
you gave him a blank stare, "were you texting your secret girlfriend?"
you noticed the way his eyes widened a little upon mentioning the word ‘girlfriend’, "okay, one, she's not my girlfriend. and two, no. i was texting max."
and for the four years you've known oscar piastri, you could always tell when he was lying. and this time, he was lying right to your face.
you decided to play along with his game, letting him think he won this time. so you hummed, nodding your head, "okay, fine, if you say so."
"i'm sorry," he apologized again, locking his phone and placing it face down on the kitchen counter, "you have my full attention now, promise. what were you saying?"
"i was telling you about last week."
"right, with lando and the diner thing, right?" he asked and you hummed, taking a piece of popcorn from the bowl in between the two of you, "wait a minute, how'd you go from hating his guts and it being unbearable to be within 5 feet of him to 'oh my god he took me to breakfast'?"
"you know that party lily practically dragged me to?" when he nodded you spoke again, "apparently i really suck at beer pong and he helped me back to the apartment and helped lily take care of me. it was really sweet, actually."
he smiled softly before letting out a quiet snort, "sorry, just never thought i'd hear you say the words 'lando' and 'sweet' in the same sentence."
"i'm serious!" you sighed, pouting ever so slightly.
"no, i know!" he laughed softly, "it's just... you're just now finding out what i've been trying to tell you for the longest time? that he's actually a really good dude?"
you bit down on your lower lip softly, "i didn't really give him a chance, huh?"
"not really, no," he chuckled softly, "but it's okay. he didn't exactly help out his own case either, in all honesty."
you nodded in agreement, the front door to the apartment creaking open. you both turned to see lando kicking off his shoes, placing his keys on the hook by the door.
he smiled at you and oscar, "hey,"
"hey," oscar smiled, answering for you as well as you took in his appearance. messy curls, tight black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, duffel bag on his shoulder and a soft glow on his skin, you could tell he had just gotten back from the gym.
arms. biceps. veins. god, you should probably speak before you embarrass yourself...
it was too late though, he had already seen the way your eyes traveled over his body. he decided to put the mental note in the back of his mind for now, instead checking the watch on his wrist.
"oh shit, i didn't mean to keep you waiting, y/n."
you tapped your phone screen, looking at the time. it was 4:35, just five minutes passed when you said you'd meet up. it really wasn't a big deal. you didn't even know it had gotten that late already.
"no, no, it's fine. didn't even notice, if i'm honest," you smiled and he sent you a smile back. oscar watched the two of you like a tennis match, cheekily grinning at the counter.
"i have some of those papers you had me work on the other day, they're in my room if you wanna..."
"oh- yeah! yeah, sure," you smiled, grabbing your things as oscar silently laughed at the way you acted around his roommate. how you were unintentionally tripping and stumbling over your own feet and your words, how lovestruck you became.
you followed lando to his room, placing your things down and taking a seat on the edge of his bed as he looked through his closet for a change of clothes, "i'm just gonna shower real quick, make yourself at home, though."
you smiled, nodding his way as he closed the door behind him. after all this time, you had never thought you'd see the other side of this door. his room was slightly messy, due to his busy schedule and his active lifestyle. posters of cars and, seemingly, his favorite video games hanging on the walls. the bookshelf that sat in the corner of the room was littered with different textbooks at the bottom and little die cast models of his favorite cars, along with a few formula one cars that you had recognized. the top shelf stood out the most to you, though.
a picture frame of him and who you had assumed to be his family. a family photo taken during christmas, all of them dressed in matching pajamas. a big happy family.
the photo, for whatever reason, brought tears to your eyes. a smile on your face as you sniffled quietly, putting the photo frame back down on it's designated shelf.
the door opened, causing you to turn around as he closed the door behind him, "sorry, i figured you'd prefer if i didn't smell like a guy's locker-room."
you laughed softly, wiping away the small tear that came from your eye, "god, yeah,"
"hey," he said, sitting down on the bed beside you, immediately disregarding the notebook he was grabbing beforehand, "what's wrong? you okay?"
you nodded, waving a hand dismissively, "yeah, yeah, i'm fine. i just- for whatever reason, when i looked at that picture of you and your family it just uhm..."
he patiently waited for you to finish your sentence, "it just brought back some feelings that i wish it hadn't, that's all."
"fuck, i'm so sorry," he said.
"no, no," you shook your head, "you don't have to apologize, if anything i should be the one who's apologizing."
"you don't have to apologize for having emotions."
you smiled softly, feeling another tear fall from the corner of your eye. this time, he gently brought his hand up to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he wiped it away.
the action made you breathless, as if the way he was looking into your eyes hadn't already. a mysterious color you couldn't quite put your finger on. it was a mix between blue, green and grey.
whatever it was, it was gorgeous and captivating at the same time.
you cleared your throat, the two of you moving away from the gap that had slowly been closing. your fingers untwisting themselves from his, you growing flushed at the fact that you had, at some point, interlocked your fingers with his unknowingly.
"sorry," you mumbled softly.
"'m sorry," he said at the same time. you both shared a soft and awkward chuckle before he grabbed his notebook from behind him.
"so, i had a few questions about chapter 15."
"go on," you said, studying his side profile as he explained the areas he was having trouble with. pretty tanned skin littered with freckles and moles, curls that perfectly kissed the skin on the back of his neck and his forehead.
the sentence lily had said to you last week repeating itself into your brain:
“...and it’s not like i don’t see the way he looks at you. he definitely is feeling something he doesn’t want to show just yet,”
oh, fuck.
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royal-jalph · 2 years ago
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First Post is Admin Flynn Shitposting Haha. Header and Profile Picture
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puppppppppy · 9 months ago
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renaissance dogys
characters belong to @canisalbus
#i love i loveeee ludovica sm shes so cute. ive only known her for 5 min but i fell in love with her design and i love her friendship#with vasco ^_^ i think them having each other makes hiding their sexualities a little less lonely so thats sweet#ik in modern au shes considered an old friend of vascos but i originally assumed she and vasco fake dated in college or smth#to get their parents off their backs until they came out properly and continued to stay in touch as friends after LMAO#im not very familiar with period fashion so i had to look at renaissance costumes as reference. but i have to admit i love the#high waistlines used in some of their dresses.. i have a minidress with a similar high waistline pressed against the chest and sleeves#also if u squint machete is holding a little paper bag in the 2nd photo which is supposed to be his lunch courtesy of vasco <3#idk what ludovica would wear in modern au but i thought poet shirts might suit her because theyre like somewhere evenly between#masc and femme. to me anyway.. based on observation lesbians seem to love poet shirts and i think she looks good in one#these are all shitposts.. ill draw serious art of them one of these days i promise#i listened to fools rush in and it reminds me of them.. especially when it goes 'though i see the danger there / if theres a chance#for me then i dont care' like its so poignant and bittersweet.. a little indulgent when u think of those small moments they have togethr#save me gay catholic furries... gay catholic furries... gay catholic furries save me#my art#myart#doodles#fanart#others ocs#canisalbus#fur#furry art#machete#vasco#vaschete#ludovica#sfw fur#furry#anthro
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atlas-of-andromeda · 3 days ago
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Because I can, I'm answering all of them.
what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?
Alot of things, obviously, but if I had to pick, I'd say:
Being straight up bullied for expressing interest in things growing up by my brother
Being largely a social outcast for most of my life
And video games
show us a picture of your handwriting?
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Yes, I know it looks like shit.
For any curious, it's the lyrics to Does The Swallow Dream Of Flying by Cosmo Sheldrake that I wrote at school a few days ago because it was stuck in my head but I was in math so I couldn't listen to it.
3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?
Wolfwalkers
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Heathers (1989)
what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?
Piss
(It's a long story)
what made you start your blog?
P.M. Seymour
what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?
Best? The anonymity of it.
Worse? The anonymity of it.
what scares you the most and why?
People hating me. I couldn't tell you why even if I wanted to.
any recurring dreams?
Sometimes I have this dream where I'm in a massive... sinkhole? I guess? That's covered entirely in moss, grass, trees, and miscellaneous foliage. There's also a waterfall somewhere in it. Everytime I have the dream it's dark, little light making it to where I am from the surface. I'm stood on this little cliff edge on the side of the hole, and everytime I look over the edge, and fall. And the dream ends there. I've had it at seemingly random intervals throughout the past... maybe nine-ish years?
There's also this dream I consistently have once, every four years. Where I'm awake in my bedroom at like... maybe 04:00 or something. And it's the early winter, snow just dusting the ground. I leave my room and the washroom door is open, light on, but all other lights are off. I walk over to the entranceway, and I can hear my mother screaming from the basement. I proceed to leave through the backdoor. I walk out into the front yard and my brother is there, and the lights on my family's car are on.
It gets a little fuzzy from then on, but I know that at some point I go back inside and there's a spoon - like the utensil - is important is some capacity. And at some point the dream suddenly switches into another, unrelated dream; where I'm laying on my back, on the floor of a massive almost warehouse-like building, completely empty, and except of the white and grey metal normally in warehouses, this building is made out of wooden planks. There's a giant fan on the roof blowing straight down on me. Balloons are involved at some point.
So... feel free to psychoanalyze me if you so wish!
tell a story about your childhood
One time my family and I were out visiting my grandfather, and there was a large lake near where he lived, so we went swimming. Now, I was like, five or six when this happened; I was very small (still am, but less so). And my older brother (by like four years) was walking out into the lake, and I was following him, because I did that sometimes when I was younger. And because he was (and still is) a lot bigger than me, he went out just fine. But because I was so small, the water picked me up and flipped me over, and I started drowning. My parents came to the rescue (my brother ignored me (dick)).
would you say you’re an emotional person?
I've gotten better in the last year or two, but yes.
what do you consider to be romance?
Couldn't tell you if I tried.
what’s some good advice you want to share?
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
what are you doing right now?
Typing shit on Tumblr.
what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?
Come out.
what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?
A house.
if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
I'd make myself braver and less of of a push-over
name 3 things that make you happy
Music, drawing, walking in nature
do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?
Nope. Not even kinda.
favourite thing about the day?
Being on the bus to and from school. I'm not at school or my house and I get to talk with my friend.
favourite things about the night?
Nobody bothers you. You are left alone for hours on end. It's the only time you get peace.
are you a spiritual person?
Nope.
say 3 things about someone you love
You're always making such shit comments about LGBT+ and minority people, and I can't say anything in retort. You make it easy to forget what a shit person you are, and I'm happy until you make one of those comments again. You're the only person who seems to care about me, even if I know that that if I were to be honest with you that'd change in a second.
say 3 things about someone you hate
You can't shut up for five seconds and give me peace and quiet. You've ruined my life in so many ways for so long. I can't wait for you to be gone.
what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?
Going on for this long.
fave season and why?
Autumn. Cold, but not frostbite cold. limited amounts of bugs. Pretty colours. :)
fave colour and why?
Red. No reason, just like it.
any nicknames?
Pumpkin - my father.
do you collect anything?
Yeah! Rocks and breadclips! (Random. I know)
what do you do when you’re sad?
Depends. If I'm in public, suck it up until in private. In private, cry and read fanfiction.
what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?
Music.
are you messy or organized?
Pretty organized.
how many tabs do you have open right now?
...17...
any hobbies?
Drawing, writing, dancing, singing, playing guitar, playing harmonica.
any pet peeves?
People with no volume control.
do you trust easily?
Not really.
are you an open book or do you have walls up?
As many walls as possible.
share a secret
No. :)
fave song at the moment?
Vulture Culture by Fangclub
youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?
Rendog. Idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
any bad habits?
Biting my nails.
questions I think would be fun to be asked
what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?
show us a picture of your handwriting?
3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?
what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?
what made you start your blog?
what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?
what scares you the most and why?
any reacquiring dreams?
tell a story about your childhood
would you say you’re an emotional person?
what do you consider to be romance?
what’s some good advice you want to share?
what are you doing right now?
what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?
what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?
if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
name 3 things that make you happy
do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?
favourite thing about the day?
favourite things about the night?
are you a spiritual person?
say 3 things about someone you love
say 3 things about someone you hate
what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?
fave season and why?
fave colour and why?
any nicknames?
do you collect anything?
what do you do when you’re sad?
what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?
are you messy or organised?
how many tabs do you have open right now?
any hobbies?
any pet peeves?
do you trust easily?
are you an open book or do you have walls up?
share a secret
fave song at the moment?
youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?
any bad habits?
(this post was stolen from @teenage-mutant-ninja-freak, since it couldn't be reblogged anymore)
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inkskinned · 2 years ago
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME#there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing#and the writing is what i need to be doing#writeblr#this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to#edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol#i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means#i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong#i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse#i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO#i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness#and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it#im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us#i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer#and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work#even if it means being miserable#but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.
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