#I was trying to keep to the option of the Reader being disabled but in ways so they still can’t participate in the rites

[blue-unifox]

Sgg robbed us of the option to choose our Reader’s kind of species so I’m doing that myself

[all-the-fish]

Oh, you know, just the usual internet browsing experience in the year of 2024

Some links and explanations since I figured it might be useful to some people, and writing down stuff is nice.

First of all, get Firefox. Yes, it has apps for Android/iOS too. It allows more extensions and customization (except the iOS version), it tracks less, the company has a less shitty attitude about things. Currently all the other alternatives are variations of Chromium, which means no matter how degoogled they supposedly are, Google has almost a monopoly on web browsing and that's not great. Basically they can introduce extremely user unfriendly updates and there's nothing forcing them to not do it, and nowhere for people to escape to. Current examples of their suggested updates are disabling/severly limiting adblocks in June 2024, and this great suggestion to force sites to verify "web environment integrity" ("oh you don't run a version of chromium we approve, such as the one that runs working adblocks? no web for you.").

uBlockOrigin - barely needs any explanation but yes, it works. You can whitelist whatever you want to support through displaying ads. You can also easily "adblock" site elements that annoy you. "Please log in" notice that won't go away? Important news tm sidebar that gives you sensory overload? Bye.

Dark Reader - a site you use has no dark mode? Now it has. Fairly customizable, also has some basic options for visually impaired people.

SponsorBlock for YouTube - highlights/skips (you choose) sponsored bits in the videos based on user submissions, and a few other things people often skip ("pls like and subscribe!"). A bit more controversial than normal adblock since the creators get some decent money from this, but also a lot of the big sponsors are kinda scummy and offer inferior product for superior price (or try to sell you a star jpg land ownership in Scotland to become a lord), so hearing an ad for that for the 20th time is kinda annoying. But also some creators make their sponsored segments hilarious.

Privacy Badger (and Ghostery I suppose) - I'm not actually sure how needed these are with uBlock and Firefox set to block any tracking it can, but that's basically what it does. Find someone more educated on this topic than me for more info.

Https Everywhere - I... can't actually find the extension anymore, also Firefox has this as an option in its settings now, so this is probably obsolete, whoops.

Facebook Container - also comes with Firefox by default I think. Keeps FB from snooping around outside of FB. It does that a lot, even if you don't have an account.

WebP / Avif image converter - have you ever saved an image and then discovered you can't view it, because it's WebP/Avif? You can now save it as a jpg.

YouTube Search Fixer - have you noticed that youtube search has been even worse than usual lately, with inserting all those unrelated videos into your search results? This fixes that. Also has an option to force shorts to play in the normal video window.

Consent-O-Matic - automatically rejects cookies/gdpr consent forms. While automated, you might still get a second or two of flashing popups being yeeted.

XKit Rewritten - current most up to date "variation "fork" of XKit I think? Has settings in extension settings instead of an extra tumblr button. As long as you get over the new dash layout current tumblr is kinda fine tbh, so this isn't as important as in the past, but still nice. I mostly use it to hide some visual bloat and mark posts on the dash I've already seen.

YouTube NonStop - do you want to punch youtube every time it pauses a video to check if you're still there? This saves your fists.

uBlacklist - blacklists sites from your search results. Obviously has a lot of different uses, but I use it to hide ai generated stuff from image search results. Here's a site list for that.

Redirect AMP to HTML - redirects links from their amp version to the normal version. Amp link is a version of a site made faster and more accessible for phones by Bing/Google. Good in theory, but lets search engines prefer some pages to others (that don't have an amp version), and afaik takes traffic from the original page too. Here's some more reading about why it's an issue, I don't think I can make a good tl;dr on this.

Also since I used this in the tags, here's some reading about enshittification and why the current mainstream internet/services kinda suck.

[notjustjavierpena]

you have returned! hope you’re doing ok! i miss husband!javi like i’m missing a limb!

this got me thinking about a request - husband!javi having to go away for a work trip for a few days - comes back and like cute family time. once the kids are in bed he just goes crazy about reader, she’s tired but she handled the kids no problem and is kind of like no big deal about it. and he’s just feral at that. she’s such a good mum and he’s so turned on and he missed her and just ugh smut

Return

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is a request from the 17th of October 2023. Anon, I hope you are still with us. I loved writing this for you, and I hope it lives up to your expectations. Thank you to proofreading as always @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !! thank you for hyping me @theywhowriteandknowthings and @pinkypromisepascal 💖❤️

Summary: Javier returns from a business trip after being apart from his family for three whole days.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags:  +18, domesticity, a happy family, javi having a baby in his arms and spending alone-time with his kids needs its own tag, i love yous, pregnancy, playful and teasing hubby, touch-starved, banter, dirty talk, finger-fucking, talk about female masturbation, pussy eating, loud reader, piv sex, riding, nipple sucking, lactation kink, javi gets off on you being the mother of his children, multiple orgasms, creampie, intense sex, bliss, pillow talk

Word count: 8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54409297

Return

The sound of the door has you sprinting towards it. You throw your arms around Javier’s neck before he even manages to put down his bag, causing him to drop it and make a noise of concern in case its contents may end up spilling out on the floor. If you have to be completely honest, you don’t give a damn right now because you haven’t felt his embrace for nearly three whole days. 

“Hola, baby,” he says with a voice that tells you that he is smiling. He holds you close to himself, one hand reaching around your waist and the other one settling on the back of your head. He presses your body into his own, and you try to keep yourself from making a noise that reminds you of a schoolgirl. 

Javier has been on a work trip out of state. It happens from time to time that some department of the state gets the not-so-incredible idea of hiring him as a motivational speaker to make their conferences look more interesting than they actually are. Javier hates it but the money is good and his boss always ends up encouraging him in a way that mostly sounds like he has no choice. 

You hate it too. The act of sleeping in your bed alone, not feeling his body heat, and not being able to simply reach out for him if you need him, is torturous. Combined with taking care of three children alone, you find yourself slowly becoming a less-than-ideal version of yourself. It’s a stressfully romantic reminder that you can barely function without him.

“Hi,” you grin widely as you pull back to receive a kiss. You splay your palms on his chest, scratching slightly as he pecks your lips repeatedly for a moment. Your whole body feels like it is made up of butterflies fluttering around each other in a romantic dance. 

“Thank God that’s over,” he reaches for the suitcase when you finally allow him to step out of your arms. He walks into the kitchen, “They were talking through my whole fucking presentation, and the meetings afterward… I was just daydreaming about coming home to you and the kids the whole time.” 

“That bad?” You follow him around like a puppy. If you didn’t know that he would do the same thing had it been you arriving home, you would find yourself slightly pathetic for being such a fool for him. 

“I should’ve said no this time,” he says as if it had ever been an option. You nod as he continues, “I do it every year and I feel like an idiot each time.” 

“We need the money,” you argue, finally moving away from your husband to go to the living room where Sebastian is lying on a blanket. He squeals in delight at seeing you, and you pick him up with a coo. 

“We don’t need the money, we’ve got enough money,” Javier says from the kitchen. 

“Come say hi to your son,” you change the subject and hear Javier’s steps come closer.

“Oh, there he is,” Javier says and his voice switches to baby talk as you hand Sebastian to him. He settles him on his hip, bouncing slightly where he stands, “Te he extrañado tanto, mijo (I have missed you so much, my son).”

Sebastian gurgles happily up at his father. His eyes are full of recognition at the sound of the  familiar voice. You swear that you can see a little bit of the exhaustion in Javier’s eyes disappear. 

“He’s been really patient with his mom these past couple of days,” you say with a chuckle, “No fussing during naps or nothing. Almost like he knew I needed the extra sympathy.”

“Bet your momma handled everything way better than I could, huh? What do you think?” Javier shifts Sebastian to sit on his arm instead so he can blow a raspberry on his face. He smiles softly at you afterward, turning his head towards you so that he and his son are cheek to cheek, “Is that wrong to assume?”

“I still think you’re better with them than me,” you say simply. 

He tuts, “Bullshit.”

Sebastian makes another happy noise at hearing both of his favorite voices. He swings his tiny fists, and Javier grabs one of his hands, “If this one wasn’t so fixated on playing peek-a-boo, he’d agree. Suppose we all have our vices.”

You move past him with a roll of your eyes and a smile on your face. You go to check the food on the stove, and from behind you, Javier sniffs the air. He walks to join you by the counter, “What are you making?”

“Tu favorito (your favorite),” you smile at Sebastian instead of looking at him, leaning in to bump your nose with his tiny one. Sebastian grabs at your face. 

“No te merezco, mi amor (I don’t deserve you, my love).”

“We eat in twenty minutes,” you inform after lovingly shaking your head at him. He leans in to kiss you again and you know immediately that this is just one of many kisses you will get tonight. 

“Where are the rascals?” He asks. 

“In the garden,” you reply and open your arms, “Give him here and go say hi. Inés has been going on about you all day, so please save me from hearing more about her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

Carefully, Javier hands over Sebastian, “I thought you liked her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

“I think I might actually love him,” you grin and try not to feel silly at your sappiness because you do actually love him so much that it is stupid. Sebastian clings to you as soon as he smells you, resting his head on your shoulder and bunching his fists in your shirt.

Javier kisses you once more before heading to the door to the garden. You hear him leave it open, and watch him go outside and step off the porch with a hello. 

“Hey there, gremlins!” He shouts. Inés and Lucas, both engrossed in their own activities, look up at the same time. Their faces light up at the sight of their father, but Inés is the one who makes a noise so loud that you can hear it in the kitchen as if she’s speaking right next to you. 

Both of them come charging whilst shouting for him. you smile fondly at the sight of them colliding with their father who lets himself be knocked backward into the grass with a happy laugh. He wraps his arms around them and squeezes them tightly, “How’ve you been? I’ve missed you.”

They both look up at his face, speaking enthusiastically at the same time until he can barely tell what is going on. Their stories of the events of the last three days weave together until it is nonsense, and they don’t seem to notice that he cannot follow along with what they are saying. He ruffles their hair and sits up with them still cradled in the crooks of his arms, “Wow wow wow, uno a la  vez (one at a time).”

“I made a tower of blocks that was taller than me!” Inés says proudly and Lucas seems to let her have the spotlight for a moment. He knows that she’ll get distracted and run away soon anyway, giving him his own chance at talking to his father. Inés talks loudly, “Mommy took a picture. She said that you needed the evi— evin— uhh… evindance.”

“Evidence,” Lucas corrects her with a superior smirk. 

“That’s what I said,” she huffs. 

“Nuh-uh,” her brother protests and ducks out from underneath his father’s arm. 

“Ya-huh!” Inés removes herself from the embrace too. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Javier chuckles, “I’ll have to ask mamá for your picture. It sounds really cool.”

“Can we build one together?” She asks with a hopeful voice, “Pleeease.”

“Let’s save it for after dinner, mija (my daughter), okay?” He suggests, “And then I’ll build a tower that’s double the size of you before you gotta sleep.”

“Really? When?” Inés reveals that she still has no real concept of time. 

“After dinner, baby,” he says again, winking at Lucas who grins, “Go ask Mommy when we’re eating.” 

She is up in no time, running towards you in the kitchen. It leaves Lucas the perfect opportunity to have his moment. He gets up from the ground, his jeans covered in green patches, and starts walking towards the swing set that Javier built a few years ago. 

“Dad, you need to see what I’ve learned!” He says. 

“Alright, let’s see,” Javier pushes himself to stand with a groan and follows, crossing his arms over his chest and watching his son get onto the seat of the swing. By clutching the chains tightly, Lucas pulls himself to carefully stand up on the swing seat. 

Javier finds himself about to protest, instinctively holding out a hand to be ready for a potential fall. However, Lucas seems to have everything under control as he holds the chains tightly with both hands. He speaks as he starts swaying back and forth, looking hopeful for approval from who he knows to be the bravest man in his world, “I practiced all day yesterday!” 

“Eres increíble (you’re incredible)!” Javier cheers but then smiles smugly, “Does mom know you’re doing that?” 

“She told me not to,” he admits shyly. 

“Well, I haven’t seen anything,” Javier winks. 

“Thanks, Dad,” it sounds genuine, happy to keep a secret. Lucas lights up, “Wanna see me jump?”

“Even your old dad has limits,” Javier laughs with a shake of his head, “Get down from there. No jumping.”

“Fine,” his son grumbles. 

When he is on the ground, you pop your head out of the door to call them inside, “Dinner time,  chicos  (guys). Lucas, come in here and wash your hands.”

You smile as they approach, and when Lucas has walked past you, you stop Javier in the doorway and curl your fingers around his tie, “You better wash them too, Peña.”

—

The sun hangs low on the horizon when dinner ends. You start gathering the plates and glasses, and Lucas joins in without hesitation which gives Javier a glimpse of what happens when he isn’t home to take care of you. Maybe his son can sense your exhaustion too. He feels a pang of guilt in his stomach but decides to make up for it by getting his daughter ready for bed. 

“Come on, mija (my daughter),” he says, picking Inés up from the floor and throwing her over his shoulder to make her laugh, “Pajamas first and then building blocks.”

He carries her upstairs to the bathroom and helps her into her pajamas, braids her hair the way she likes it, and then gets her toothbrush. She spends the whole time babbling about how she’ll grow taller like her mother and thus they’ll have to build a higher tower each day. 

“Open up,” he says, sitting on the lid of the toilet with her standing between his legs. He holds her toothbrush in front of her mouth. 

“Do you think I’ll be taller than you someday?” She asks with her childlike eyes, and Javier has to tap her chin to make her remember to open her lips. 

“No, because I’ll just wear very big shoes, even if my head bumps against the ceiling,” he tells her with a grin, “C’mon, teeth brushing time.”

Inés grimaces but follows through and he has to shush her several times because she wants to keep talking.She even sports impatience on her face as her father wipes down her mouth with a damp flannel to rid it of leftover toothpaste. She looks ready to bolt out of the door, fidgeting slightly on the spot, “You promised we could build a tower before bed.”

“And we can,” he reassures, turning the flannel over to wipe the tip of her nose playfully. She crinkles it and reaches up to rub it afterward when he moves to hang it on the laundry basket, “But we’re getting ready for bed first. Hair okay?”

She nods, not entirely convinced that she gets to stay up longer after having brushed her teeth but when Javier has put her toothbrush back in its place in the medicine cabinet, she beams as he allows her to run off to her room. He follows behind, arms stretched out in front of himself, “I’m coming to get you, mija (my daughter)!”

“Nooo!” She squeals in delight, trying to barricade the door with her tiny body but he is too fast and manages to reach her before she can even close it. He picks her up by her middle and holds her upside down, shaking her gently while  she laughs and laughs. 

“Mi monita (my little monkey),” he laughs too. 

They spend half an hour as the architects of a tall and colorful skyscraper, Inés too impatient to see the tower reach her own height to care much for aesthetics. Javier tries suggesting a storyline of a castle but his daughter shakes her head. 

“Stop, Daddy,” she commands and he holds up his hands in surrender. 

“So no princesses live here?” He questions, “Not even a dragon? Or maybe a—” 

“No,” she deadpans, steadfast just like Javier’s father has told him he was. He smiles when she isn’t looking, not about to get scolded by a 4-year-old for not taking their playtime seriously. He enjoys the little moments he has like these, seeing the way his daughter imitates his own behavior in a way that would make your teasing never-ending if you saw it. At that moment, he despises himself and his job because he has to leave sometimes and thus misses out on things. He should have been here when Inés built a tower as tall as herself by herself, not see it in a photograph later. 

Eventually, the construction gets too tall for her to build it even taller. Javier is put to work immediately after she realizes this, and she oversees his work with important nods and looks of assessment. 

“Look, Daddy!” She exclaims with each building block that Javier places on top of another. She stands beside the tower because she needs to compare her height to it, and Javier has to keep a hand on her shoulder to steady her when she gets close to making it tumble down, “Do you think it will reach the ceiling?”

“One day I’m sure it’ll reach the moon,” he replies as if it is a fact, “I for sure am tall enough.”

“No, you’re not,” she furrows her brow, thinking, “But we will just have to get a very big ladder.”

Finally, Javier has built a tower double her size. It stands wobbly on the floor. He nods towards it, “There you go, mi amor (my love), do you want to put the last block on top? The triangular one?” 

She nods and he notices the telltale signs of Inés’ tiredness because her eyes have started drooping. She rubs them with a little sigh, and then holds out her arms so he can pick her up and place her on his hip. 

She places the block carefully on top after Javier hands it to her. It is like all energy reserves have been used up from one moment to another. However, he doesn’t want to risk the unsteady tower falling over in the middle of the night, so he whispers in his most mischievous voice, “Do you want to knock it down?”

“Can I?” She widens her eyes. 

“Sí, pero no se lo digas a tu mamá (yes, but don’t tell your mom),” he confirms, “Perhaps a big angry monkey swung from it whilst roaring like this!”

He imitates King Kong the best he can and is thankful she has no clue what it is, and she repeats after him only to push on the stacked blocks until they tumble to the floor. He kicks the remaining pieces with his foot, and she roars again. They laugh together until she yawns.

“Alright, es hora de dormir (it’s time to sleep),” he announces then, and she doesn’t protest. He shifts her slightly in his arms so she can wrap herself around him with both her arms and legs, burying her face in his shoulder. It’s clear that she has missed him. He rubs her back with both hands before holding her in place, moving towards the bed in the corner of her room. 

Gently, he lays her down and crouches down beside her afterward. He pulls the covers up over her head on purpose and earns a giggle, “Oh no, where did Inés go?”

“You’re silly, Papá,” she says. 

“Go to sleep, baby,” he tells her after tucking her in properly this time, “You are so tired. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for playing with me,” Inés says with a yawn, turning on her side to look at him better. She softens a little as her eyes start to flutter closed, her father’s hand running over her head. Another yawn comes, “Te quiero, Papá. No me gusta cuando te vas y no me gusta extrañarte (I love you, Dad. I don’t like it when you leave and I don’t like missing you).”

Javier sucks in a breath. He rubs the spot between her eyebrows, trying to keep his composure, “Lo sé, mi vida (I know, my life). I love you too. Sleep well, okay?”

“Okay,” she slurs, and then her breathing slows. He tucks her in one last time, leaning in to kiss her hair softly before stretching carefully to his full height. He makes sure to turn on her night light before turning off the overhead lights, closing the door ever so gently afterward.

He lets out a deep breath right outside her room and smooths two fingers over his mustache. He hasn’t told you about this yet but he is considering quitting his job, has been considering it very seriously since Christmas when he promised to cut down on work significantly to be home a lot more with you and the kids. That and the fact that you are carrying his fourth child, and leaving you home alone with all four in the future just seems cruel.

However, it’s a comment like the one he has just received from his only daughter that sets it in stone. His search for other jobs is not a mere idea any longer but rather a necessity if he wants to continue being happy with his family. 

He has to tell you and he is dying to already, but first, he wants to unpack and then tuck Lucas in too. He has three days of goodnights to catch up on. 

—

He enters Lucas’ room half an hour later to the familiar sound of his son’s Game Boy, its rhythmic beeps and pings accompanied by the frantic tapping on its buttons. Lucas is sitting cross-legged in his bed, already wearing his pajamas and with his face illuminated by the screen of his console. 

“Hey Dad, can you knock? I’m losing my concentration,” his son says without looking up from the screen, already sounding so grown up that Javier has to tighten his grip around the doorknob. Where did the time go? 

“Ay, Lucas,” he tuts and crosses the room to stand by the bed, “Soy tu padre (I’m your father).”

“I just really don’t want to lose,” he explains and starts tapping away on the buttons again, his stare still fixed on the little jumping character. Javier waits for a moment, following his game by looking over his shoulder. 

When enough time has passed and Lucas seems to relax a bit more, he interrupts again, “Alright, time for bed, muchacho (young man).” 

“One more game!” Lucas finally looks up with pleading eyes. The boy sports the same puppy-look in them that you have said Javier does himself, and it was only when he looked into Lucas’ pleading face the first time that he realized what you meant. The look is damn near impossible to say no to. 

“Fine, but I’m taking it afterward unless you promise me not to play all night,” he says firmly, “Even Mario has to sleep at some point.”

“I will!” He reassures quickly, “Only five minutes more, I promise.”

“But I want to talk to you about something first,” he holds out his hand for the gaming console, “Dámelo (Give it to me). It’s important you listen.”

“Am I in trouble?” Lucas reluctantly hands his most precious belonging to his father who places it on the nightstand. 

“What? No, mijo (my son),” Javier gets Lucas under the covers, tucks him in, and then sits down on the edge of the bed, “How would you like it if I got to spend more time at home with you all?”

“What do you mean?” Lucas tilts his head in confusion.

“Can you keep a secret from Mom?” He asks with a gentle smile. Lucas nods. He continues, “I’m quitting my job soon.”

“Really?!” Lucas exclaims with pure shock on his face.

“Shh, your sister and your brother are asleep down the hall,” he shushes, holding a finger in front of his mouth.

“Really?” He whispers instead. 

“Absolutely, really,” Javier whispers back and Lucas’ eyes sparkle with excitement. He sits up in bed, pushing the covers aside to crawl into his father’s arms. Maybe he isn’t so grown up after all. Javier hugs him back and kisses his hair, “I’ve been thinking that spending more time with you, your brother and your sister is what I’ve been missing. I don’t like  leaving you here to be the big boy of the house when I’m not here.”

He continues when Lucas tightens his arms around him. He muses, “And even if I’ll still have a job, there’ll be more time for game nights and football in the garden. Would you like that?”

Lucas nods into his shoulder. Javier chuckles softly, "But remember, es nuestro secreto (it’s our secret) until I talk to Mom about it. We want to make sure she's on board with the plan, yeah?”

Lucas pulls back and nods eagerly, looking like he is already daydreaming of the extra time he'll get to spend with his father. However, there’s a tinge of anxiety in his excitement, and his voice is an unsure whisper when he speaks his concern, "Dad, what if Mom doesn't like the idea? What if she gets upset?"

“She understands how important our family time is. Trust me, te prometo (I promise) everything will be okay," he says with a reassuring smile. 

“But what will your new job be?” Lucas continues, “Will it be something cool?”

“I think I might start teaching people how to catch bad guys like I used to do,” he shrugs.

Lucas grimaces, “You’re gonna be a teacher?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” he laughs, “Bedtime.”

“You said one more game!” He protests. 

Javier gets up to grab the Game Boy off the nightstand. He holds it out for his son and yanks it away when he tries to take it, “One.”

“I promise,” he says and takes it when he is allowed. 

“And your father is actually very cool,” Javier moves to turn off the lights. He can already hear the theme tune of Lucas’ game, “Buenas noches (goodnight).”

“Buenas noches, papá, te quiero,” Lucas beams in the few seconds he looks up. 

“Y yo a tí, mijo (I love you too, my son),” he says and flicks the switch. 

“They’re asleep,” Javier says as he enters the kitchen a few minutes later. He finds you leaning against the counter with a glass of alcohol-free red wine in your hand. The bottle stands on the counter behind you, its contents half-emptied as if it's been your only way of treating yourself in the evenings after the kids have gone to bed. You look tired from having been alone with all three of them - one of them still an infant - for three days and with a secret baby in your belly to top it off. 

Chucho had offered to help you out but you had politely declined so as to not ask for too much of your father-in-law, not be too much of an inconvenience when he has so much to do at the ranch with getting ready for the Spring. 

“I’m about to be too,” you say after a sip of your glass. 

“When I’ve finally gotten you to myself?” Javier tuts and steps closer to you, stopping when he is right in front of you. He checks the baby monitor on the kitchen counter next to the wine bottle and then he takes the glass off your hand, setting it aside as well. 

His hands find your sides afterward, cupping your waist for a moment before they slide around your body so he can pull you in for a long and desperate kiss. You rest your arms on his shoulders, cradling his head as he moves his mouth with yours. It is nothing but pure ecstasy to feel him like this again, so much that you forget to breathe and have to pull away too soon. 

You know he is the same when he sucks a breath in at the same time as you. However, instead of kissing you again, he lets you catch your breath and hugs you close to his chest. His body feels warm, an instant smile forming on your face as he squeezes you. 

“Hi,” you say, sounding drunk despite the wine having no alcohol. His arms are a harbor, the very definition of the end of unhappiness. They’re strong and enough to make your head swim, holding you with the promise of never being apart except for physically. 

You feel his breath against your ear, “Hey, mamá.”

“I’m so glad you’re home with me again,” you close your eyes as you inhale through your nose, letting the scent of him flood your system. 

Javier pulls back and stares at you for a moment. He smirks, a mischievous gleam appearing in his eyes. Then he lets go of you to reach up and teasingly pull down your top to look down into it. 

“Ay, Javi,” you scold with a roll of your eyes. 

“What?” He acts oblivious. 

“You’re acting insane, and I’m trying to be genuine.”

“I haven’t seen you in three days, mi amor (my love), you can’t blame me,” he protests your accusation, “Besides, this is me being very genuine.”

“Missed you too,” you sigh. 

“And I’ve missed you, Jesus,” he wraps his arms around your waist again, pulls you closer to his body, and uses every opportunity to kiss you after each sentence, “Missed these tits. Missed your gorgeous pussy. You gotta let me have it tonight, mamácita.” 

“Take me upstairs then,” you lean your head back when he presses his lips to your throat, “We’re not doing it in the kitchen. Against popular belief.”

Javier snorts, “But we always—“

“I said against popular belief, baby,” you stress. 

“Fine, c’mere then,” his arms slide down over your hips, and when they reach your knees, he scoops you up with his strong arms and lifts you over his shoulder. You answer with a yelp that turns into a panicked laugh but he simply smacks your ass and starts walking. In the middle of the chaos, you manage to reach for the baby monitor on the counter. 

“You are incorrigible,” you say with a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, wife, yes, wife good, I like wife,” he replies in his best caveman accent and you snicker all the way up the stairs, legs dangling over his shoulder and ready to scold him each time he gropes your ass. 

When he throws you down on the bed, you are having a full-on laughing fit and the bubbling in your chest feels so good. Even better, when he looms over you by the end of the bed while unbuttoning his shirt, only to crawl on top of you. He kisses your wine-stained lips, scooping you up into his arms and you return his embrace after throwing the baby monitor on the bed. 

“I love your laugh,” he says softly when he needs a breath, bumping your noses together. 

“You just kidnapped me from the kitchen, that’s no laughing matter,” you tease. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your neck while you talk. 

“Then why are you giggling like a schoolgirl?” He places a hand on your belly that still keeps a secret between the two of you. No one knows yet. 

There is concentration on his face when his hand moves up under your top, smoothing the fabric up until you stretch your arms above your head to help him rid it off of your body. 

“Hmm,” you think out loud, “Maybe because I have this terrible schoolgirl crush on you.”

“Really? I thought marriage was just a matter of convenience,” he chuckles and kisses your neck again. You lay your hands on his shoulders, smoothing them over the broadness of his bare skin that’s been missing underneath your fingertips and pushing him down towards your chest. 

“This is pretty good too, most convenient,” you note with a grin as he follows your silent order, moving his mouth south on you until he plants kisses between your breasts. You reach underneath your back to undo your bra, and he peels it off of you and sighs with satisfaction as soon as he has your upper body naked. 

“Look at you,” he groans, throwing the bra to the side and diving back into you. He kisses the swell of your right breast, “You make me so fucking horny.”

You throw your head back as he lets the flat of his tongue trail wetly from one breast to the other. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and earns his first moan, to which he presses his clothed crotch into your thigh to show you how hard he is already. 

“I’ve been wet since I saw you at the door,” you admit, “Been thinking of your cock inside of me each night. So fucking lonely without you.”

“You should have called me,” he mutters, mouth going further down on your body until he reaches the hem of your jeans. He undoes the button and zipper, yanking them over your hips and pulling them off your legs. 

“I was too busy screwing myself,” you tell him and he immediately finds your eyes. That clearly hit a spot, “You like that, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” he struggles a little with the jeans as they sit around your ankles, but the desperation has him yanking them off with enough enthusiasm to pull you along. 

“If you weren’t trying to drag me onto the floor— oh, shit.”

Javier has dragged your underwear along with the jeans, and he is now sinking two fingers deep inside of your dripping cunt and pressing them upwards. It’s what you get for being snarky, you suppose, staring down at him as he fucks you open on his digits. 

“Your mouth— ah, put your mouth on me,” you try to command. 

“Quiet down, baby. I literally just put the kids to bed. You want them running in here?” He shushes you with an amused grin, adding a third finger to your squelching cunt to make you groan, “While I’m wearing you like a puppet?” 

You rock against his hand with a chuckle that develops into a moan, “Imagine the conversation that’ll start.”

“I’d rather have a conversation about how filthy you’ve been while I was away,” he speeds up his fingers to make you cry out against your hand but he doesn’t make you come, changing his mind halfway there to follow through on your request, “No, actually I’ll have you monologue about it because I’m going to eat your pussy as you do it.”

You tremble as he takes your clit in his mouth, easing his tongue over the hard nub over and over again whilst timing it with the strokes of his fingers. You feel so full of his digits, and it takes you a moment to trust yourself not to cry at the ceiling the second you remove your hand from your mouth. 

“Took a long shower the day before yesterday, after the kids had gone to school and Seb was napping,” you begin with shaking breaths. You need to start the sentence three times before you can make your words make sense, “Used the faucet on the bathtub and came so goddamn hard. You should’ve seen me with my legs up against the wall.”

Below you, Javier hums in approval and it vibrates through your throbbing pussy. You continue.

“I imagined you going down on me with your warm tongue, circling my clit— yes, just like that,” just talking about it makes you gush from how horny it makes you, wetness dripping past Javier’s lips and into his mouth. He groans against you and mouths at your pulsing clit. You find yourself much closer from how well your body remembers the orgasm you had in the shower; the warm water pounding rhythmically against your clit, your toes curling, and— and. 

You grind into his mouth and fuck yourself on his fingers as you come, the hot and heavy feeling of an orgasm crashing over you and intensifying as it peaks. You have to bite your lip to keep from screaming, still not managing to keep the high-pitched ah! from reverberating through the room. Javier’s fingers feel so much bigger inside of you as your cunt strangles them, and when you look down at him, you see that he is crashing his hips against the bed to feel just a bit of relief. 

You have lost all restraint in your noises as you feel the pleasure ebb out, leaving you a whimpering and panting mess on the bed that wants it all. Somehow you are deeply satisfied at the same time as knowing that this is not enough; you need all of him, and you need him inside of your cunt until you can barely move from the spot. The fact that your body still works when he pulls his fingers from you is an indication of not having had enough. 

“Need to fuck you,” he says from below you, crawling on top of you. He has left a damp spot on the sheets from where his cock has dragged against them, and he looks like he is in pain at this point if he doesn’t get to feel you around him, “Now, mi amor (my love).”

“No,” you stop him as he tries spreading your legs with a gentle yet hurried hand.

“No?” His brows furrow, a protest on the tip of his tongue. 

“Let me ride you,” you beg, already pushing on his shoulders and feeling how he is giving in in an instant, “Please, I want you so deep in me.”

“Yes, yeah, okay,” he breathes, moving to lie on his back with a pillow under his head. You shake as you lift yourself to straddle him, holding out your arms in front of yourself to signal that you want him to be close to you. He reads you without you saying anything and sits up in your bed so you can be chest to chest. 

You reach beneath yourself to take hold of the base of his cock, holding him in place so you can sink down on his shaft until he is buried inside of you to the hilt. You are dripping wet. The motion of engulfing him in your heat is smooth and effortless, and the moans the both of you let out are closer to whines because you are so starved. 

“It’s so good, you’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles quietly in your ear, nosing along the spot behind it. You arch into him, nodding without any words coming to your mind. Instead, you let out a soft gasp as he fucks up into you. 

Nothing describes being this close to him after not even being able to kiss him for three days. Other couples would shake their heads if they knew how desperate you get from merely three days apart. You only feel sorry for them. They don’t get how your days are spent with taking every opportunity to lay eyes on each other, breathe and taste each other or even just being able to put a hand on each other’s shoulder, hip, the small of the back. 

“Let me,” you pant as he moves underneath you, sending you into a state where you need to concentrate if you want to get out a proper sentence, “I want to fuck this cock. Please, let me.”

Javier stills his hips underneath you. He seems to be holding his breath as he watches you place your hands on his shoulders and then feel them slide behind his head to tilt his head backward. He looks up at you as you start moving on him, rocking in his lap so he barely pulls out of you. 

“Come on, that’s a good girl,” he says when he finally sucks in a breath, eyes gazing up at you with a pussydrunk look in them. When they glaze over like this, you know his words will be ravenous and never-ending, “Fuck, baby. That’s it. There you go. Let me touch you so deep inside.”

It doesn’t take long for him to be distracted by your moving chest as you sensually drag your hips over his thick cock. He did tell you that he had missed your breasts but that had been in a slightly playful manner; you never thought that you would actually start to feel beautiful under his hungry eyes. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you because he always knows how to make you feel desirable. 

“Attagirl,” he groans, holding your hip tightly with his right hand to help you keep your balance, “God, look at those pretty tits.”

You arch your back as he puts his other hand on your left breast, bending his head down to mouth along the swell until he reaches your nipple. He swirls his tongue once but it is too hard to keep going when you move more frantically on top of him to pleasure yourself, so instead, he wraps his whole mouth around the hardened, spit-slicked peak and sucks until your cunt clamps down in surprise of how good it feels.

“Fuck,” you pant, closing your eyes. The noises of him sucking on your breasts fill your ears and along with how it is making your belly swirl, it makes you impossibly wetter, coating his dick in a milky-white ring. A lewd thought enters your mind. Perhaps, he keeps knocking you up because of this; your cup size has remained the same for a while because you’ve been breastfeeding for months now, and with another baby on its way, you know that the months will keep adding up in the near future.

A drop slips into his mouth and spurs him on to give you a thorough taste. Your brows pull together as a more high-pitched moan leaves your open mouth and he pulls back to shush you gently. Then he sucks greedily again. 

You had once asked him why he loved this, and he had replied that the very fact that you were producing milk so sweet to nurture his child went straight to his dick. 

“Javi,” you whine to tell him just how you feel. He removes his mouth from your sensitive chest to talk, albeit reluctantly. However, when he notices the change in your sounds and your pitch, he doesn’t want to look away from your face again until he has seen you lose it. 

“Oh, you wanna come, huh? Then fuck me,” he says with milk-stained lips. You move desperately in his lap as he spurs you on, feeling the head of his cock dragging back and forth inside of you, laying against your g-spot perfectly if you tilt your hips just a bit. Javier’s eyes burn as they stare up at you but he cannot help himself from occasionally glancing down at your bouncing tits. Your need to come grows, and when you press down slightly harder, you see stars behind your eyelids. A second orgasm tears through you, and one of the hands that has gripped your hip hard enough to bruise comes up to cover your mouth because you start screaming. It’s so intense to have missed him so much. 

“There she is,” he growls lowly, watching your face contort with pleasure until tears slide down your face and underneath his palm that’s tightly secured over your whining mouth, “That’s my good girl. You know how to come on this fucking cock, fuck, you feel so good, mi vida (my life), choking my dick. Keep going— no no, don’t stop, ride through it, baby.”

You force yourself to continue moving and keep crying into his hand, wet from drool and tears by now. The oversensitivity is mind-numbing, toe-curling, and somehow still not enough.

“Almost made me come, mi chica sucía y desesperada (my dirty, eager girl),” he says through a breathless chuckle but then raises his brows as your pitch starts climbing once again. You have successfully bypassed your body and started building up another high, “You’re gonna come again? Díos mio (my God), my beautiful wife is insatiable.”

Any chance of talking back at him is lost because you would wake up the whole neighborhood if he dared remove his hand from your mouth. To put his filthy mouth in its place, you start bouncing in his lap to the point where his naked thighs crash harshly into your ass. The sound of skin slapping against skin is dirty but Javier’s desperate groans are obscene. He can barely talk now without his voice wavering, and with the way he repeats himself, you know he is doing everything in his power to let you come one more time before he bursts, “Use my cock, yes like that. K-keep going— you’re gonna make me come. Oh fuck.” 

When he notices that you are trying to say something, he removes his hand and allows you a single sentence before clamping the hand down over your mouth again. 

“I can’t do it anymore,” you whimper with exhaustion, thighs having started to tremble with the effort you are putting into bouncing in his lap. They hurt at this point, straining despite how much you also use your arms to steer yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Go until you can’t fucking do it anymore and I’ll take over, yeah?” He nods at you when you make a mhm-noise into his hand, eyes encouraging and his breaths less composed. 

When you come a second time on his dick, you falter immediately. The sensation of the pleasure that has built up so fast again crashes down and takes you with it in its fall. You are silent when it’s teetering on the edge, and then it makes your voice crack when you feel the first tug behind your throbbing clit. 

There is only the feeling of your convulsing cunt making you believe in a higher power - in this case, Javier fucking Peña - and then said higher power wrapping his arm around your sticky back to lift you up and down. He snaps his hips upwards to use your body for his own pleasure, and after a series of frantic movements, he comes with a groan. The feeling of his warm spill inside of you has you whimpering, and you try your best to rock your hips the best your exhausted body can. If it weren’t for all the dopamine in your system, you are sure it would hurt. 

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes. Oh, baby, fuck the come out of me, yes, that’s it,” he chants underneath you as he fills you up, moving to meet you halfway until he also has no more to give.  When he stills, he grabs your face to smash your lips together in a messy, desperate kiss that is more teeth than anything else. It feels impossible to get close enough to him, even if your chests stick together from sweat.

A moment later, you fall down onto his chest with a chuckle, head swimming from what you have just done. Your arms lie on either side of his head, and your cheek is pressed into his hair. You can feel his nose dig into your shoulder, inhaling you and your post-sex scent, and his arms tighten around your waist as he hugs you close. 

“That was fantastic,” you groan with him still inside of you. He gives you one more thrust, pressing his hips upwards, and you half-moan in oversensitivity and half-laugh in surprise, “Stop it, Peña.”

He laughs breathlessly, placing a kiss on your bare skin. Then he slips out of you with a grunt, and you feel his come drip from you already, down onto his cock and thighs. He rubs your sides with his broad hands, “I have missed you as well, you know.”

“I don’t ever want you to go again,” you demand sillily. 

“You say that every time.”

“I mean it every time.”

There’s a pause between the two of you. It lasts several minutes where you just lie on top of his chest. 5, 10, 15 minutes pass. Javier says nothing yet you know him well enough to know that he is considering his words. 

“I was thinking of something,” he finally says. 

You sit up at that, “What?” 

“You know how I said something about work during Christmas? That I wanted to be more home with you and the kids, that it would make me happier?” He begins, looking up at you and not hesitating in his eye contact with you. 

You suddenly pay a lot more attention, “Yeah?”

“I was thinking that since I will have a bunch of kids to carry around a lot more years from now, I can’t be running around in the force anymore. My back is fucking killing me, and I also want to make love to my wife on the regular,” he tells you and you know instantly that it’s serious even if he says it with a chuckle, “I was thinking of teaching at the local college. They have a criminology course, and with my time in school with my head in the books - I mean, my bachelor’s degree - it shouldn’t be a problem to get a job there.”

“Are you serious?” You gape at him. 

“Yes, of course, I am,” he furrows his brow slightly. Only now, he looks unsure but still keeps talking, “It would mean nothing of this sort either; me going away.”

“Babe, that’s amazing,” you fall down into him again, causing an umph-noise from your husband, and then you crash your lips into his. You kiss him as if your life depended on it, sliding your fingers through his dark hair and tugging slightly as if trying to get him even closer to you. 

He looks drunk and disheveled when you pull back again, a goofy and satisfied smile on his face. His fingers scratch slightly along your back, “You’d like that, huh?”

“Yes, please,” you beam with happiness. 

“Then you shall have it, mi vida (my life),” his hands travel down to your ass which he gropes obscenely, and when you make a noise, he smacks your right cheek. You feel his cock, hard again, poke into your thigh.

You look down between you, “This is a surprise. I thought you’d gotten old…”

“Like I said…” He grabs your waist and pulls you down to lie on your back. A yelp escapes your lips. 

He is inside of you mere seconds after, causing you to longingly whine. He thrusts once then twice, and you throw your head back to take it, “…I’ve missed you.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[beneathashadytree]

HI GUYS! LONG POST, MAKING A BIG ANNOUNCEMENT OVER HERE! I WILL BE ACCEPTING WRITING COMMISSIONS FOR A COUPLE OF MONTHS, DUE TO THE FACT THAT I LIVE IN EXTREME POVERTY… PLEASE REBLOG!!

Here are my commision prices:

1$-2$ —> an SMAU (depends on length)

5$ —> a drabble (around 500 words)

10$ —> a oneshot (around 1000 words)

20$ or more—> a ficlet (2000-4000 words or more)

What fandoms I’m willing to write for (the ones in bold are the ones I’m best at and hyperfixating on):

Attack on Titan

Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

My Hero Academia

Haikyuu!!

Jujutsu Kaisen

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Moriarty the Patriot

Tokyo Revengers

One Piece

Bungou Stray Dogs

Kuroko no Basket

Ikemen Sengoku

Ikemen Vampire

Ikemen Revolution

Ikemen Prince

Love and Deepspace (my current fav)

How do I request a commission?

Either contact me via my DMs here, or on my Ko-Fi! I’ll be linking my account at the bottom of this post.

What’s the commission format?

Tell me your name or your OC’s name, their gender & pronouns, describe them to me both physically and in terms of personality, then tell me which character you want me to write them with. I’ll be writing “character x reader” or “character x OC” fics, so I need to know what I’m working with! Any extra details will help a lot. Of course, we will discuss everything concerning your commission privately.

If you want to check out my previous works to have a rough idea of how things will look like, be sure to check out my masterlist, which is my pinned post! Of course, my writing improves over time, so it may not be precisely as it is there.

How do I pay you?

You can pay me via my Ko-Fi account, which is linked to my PayPal! Here’s the link to my Ko-Fi.

Please consider helping me out, whether by requesting a commission, or by sharing this post and my links as much as possible!! I’m trying my best to do all I can now that I haven’t got many options left.

As some of you might already know, I’m a dentist, but still at uni. Sadly, studying dentistry is extremely expensive, and I can’t rely on my parents to pay my fees for me for a few reasons.

The first being that my dad is a heart patient, and can’t work anymore. The pension he receives is literally less than the equivalent of 90 dollars. Of course, that doesn’t provide anything in terms of food and living (we usually can only afford a meal or two a day) except for some of his meds—not even all of them. His health is steadily declining.

My mother is extremely narcissistic and very, very abusive. I’ve gone through hell living with her because I have to, but even she can’t even afford to take care of us because no one wants to hire her at her old age, and she’s used up all her savings on my dad.

I’m also physically disabled, and can’t move around often. I also have to have surgeries every now and then because of the chronic illness I have.

I am in serious, dire need of money, both for my tuition fees, and hopefully to be able to live. I have to keep us afloat until I can get married in a couple of years, since I can’t live alone. Besides, my dad doesn’t deserve to suffer with his heart problems.

I tried working with dentistry last year, and that worked for a while, but this year no one’s hiring due to the terrible state of our economy. I have no skills aside from my writing, so that’s what I’ll have to work with. I’m getting seriously desperate, so I hope you guys understand why I’m doing this, and hopefully feel inclined to offer any support you can—even if not financial, but just by reblogging this post!

[skellseerwriting]

Pirates and Prejudice (and Dragons)

James Hook x GN! Dragon Rider!Reader Part 3

Pt.1 pt.2

Here’s the not-apology apology chapter!

Reader is disabled (prosthetic foot) and I am not disabled, so if anyone who’s reading this is please let me know if anything is written weirdly or wrongly

Word Count: 2,162

Warnings: Descriptions of phantom pains, some slight hurt/mostly comfort, romantic tension, mentions of injury, reader feels conflicted

Content: Hook starts avoiding reader, reader starts experiencing really bad phantom pains, someone arrives to help them, who could it be?

It was daunting, how little changed yet how big that change meant. Most of life went on the same, but the little differences meant everything.

Hook and his friends stopped bothering you. In fact, you hardly ever saw them. Maybe it was just because they would go out of their way to pick on you before, but it made it almost seem as if they were avoiding you. Which, yes, was nice, but that also included Hook.

Now, whenever you saw each other in hallways or on school grounds, he would practically move as far away from you as possible. Even in class he would try and take the seat farthest from yours. And every time, his face would look a stressful combination of fear, guilt, and some secret, third thing.

You hated it.

You hated seeing him avoid you when all you had wanted when you first met was to be friends; or acquaintances on good terms, at the very least. You despised that look that happened to share too much resemblance to pity, which was something you grew to hate since your injury. The way he almost tiptoed around you created an irritable, unscratch-able itch. His treatment of you was as if you were fragile; that if he got too close you would break. Well, if it continued, you weren’t sure how long you would last until you actually snapped.

An annoying side effect from all the stress were the phantom pains. Whenever they happened in the past you would go for a fly. School still being in session prevented that.

It’s not that the nurse didn’t understand your condition; She had in fact told you to go to her to sort out exceptions of attending class when needed, bless her heart. No, the reason you were determined to grit it out was because you were worried of rumors. If word got out of you skipping class, regardless of how valid the reason, you knew the social consequences of it.

You would not let people think you were weak.

You were not weak.

Grinding your teeth together out of pain, you told yourself that excusing yourself to the restroom near the end of class right before free period didn’t count. Nobody would be able to tell anything.

Still, it was hard.

You had went to your usual spot at the courtyard fountain, limping badly and starting to sweat over the feelings of pins at your ankle. It had never been this bad before. The only time it had been worse than this was during the recovery process a few years ago. As time had gone on, you forgot what that felt like. Pain surged through the area again, reminding you.

Massaging it was an option, but you did not want to do it out in the open. You felt vulnerable, open to the world. Your dorm was also so far away from here, just thinking about the walk made your foot feel worse.

Clenching your hands on your legs while trying to breath steadily, you continued to keep your eyes closed. Shut everything out.

 There is nothing around you but open air, you told yourself. That breeze you feel in front of you? That’s the wind hitting your face while flying on Beastie. The splashing of water behind you? A coursing waterfall you were flying close to. The person sitting to your left? They-

You opened your eyes.

No. Not him.

Anyone but him.

An extreme surge of pain occurred again. You couldn’t keep a still face and made a near-silent cry.

You knew he saw that and you hated it.

“Go away, please.” You whispered, doing everything in your power to not look at him. He only made it worse, being the source of your current stress and anxiety.

You sensed no movement.

“Hook, please.” you pleaded. “Please leave me alone.” You needed him to leave. One of your worst moments was on display and he was just watching. He could hear your tears even if he couldn’t see them, and he could definitely see you left shoe shaking uncontrollably. Why hasn’t he left?

A hand placed itself on your shoulder.

“Are you having phantom pains right now?” He asked softly. Surprised at the care and quietness in his voice, you looked at him. His face and his eyes held none of what they had before. There was no fear. There was no pitiful guilt. There was just endearing worry, along with that secret, third thing.

You nodded your head, fingers gripping the tough sides of the leather gear strapped onto your pants.

“Can I help you?” He whispered, head tilted closer to yours.

Part of you jumped at the question, desperate to say yes. The other part, unfortunately, was terrified. This man... This- pirate of a man, walked a tightrope in your mind between someone to avoid at all costs… and someone you were far too eager to get close to.

What would happen if you said yes? As sincere as he sounded, what if he was lying? Up until recently, all his cares towards you were to make your life miserable. What if he intended to get close to you just to hurt you at some farther point ahead? Your heart would surely break more than anything else.

But what if he meant it? What if he could help you in all the ways you needed, not only just now, but in the future? Would you finally find that solidarity you had been seeking? Ease of not feeling different here? Would he do that for you? Become that important to you?

Would you become that important to him?

You dwelled on that for a moment longer. Hook started to look nervous, perhaps wondering if you didn’t want him there after all. He wouldn’t have been surprised after everything he had done to you. Then, you said something to him.

“What?” He asked, thinking his ears had betrayed him. You gave him a tiny smile.

“Yes.” you breathed. “I said yes.”

His eyes crinkled into little crow’s feet, and that alone made it worth it to say.

Before even asking or telling him anything, he brought his right hand off your shoulder and turned away slightly, only to turn back a few seconds later with something shiny in his palm.

“This is my hook.” Ah, he was trying to distract you. Of course he knew that technique, since he would deal with phantom pains himself with his own hand. Although if you were being honest, him sitting inches away from you and sharing your air probably distracted you more than anything else. He was so close.

Smiling, you began to trace the little garnishes and engravings at the cylindrical part.

“It’s very pretty.” You told him plainly, focusing on the design instead of your foot. “Did someone make it for you?”

“Not exactly.” He said with an air of mischievousness. “I stole it from a famed prosthetics-maker during a long trip to the east.” Something about the way he said it made you think he was fibbing, but you let out a giggle nonetheless when he grinned at you- like he knew that you knew. “Want me to get a pretty foot for you?” He asked with a wink.

“Only if it matches your hook.” You joked lightly, not letting him have one over you with that last remark. Surprisingly, Hook started to stammer a little bit while turning pink.

Laughing, you shove his shoulder a little with your own. “Relax, I’m just kidding. My current one is fine the way it is; I can’t value appearance over durability and stability with my occupation.” He seemed to accept the answer, still flustered.

“Mine’s made of steel. So it has both strength and lightness.” He told you.

“Really?” You asked. “It looks rather heavy.”

“Here.” He said, setting it in your open hand. Wow, it was really light. “Can’t have my enemies be besting the greatest pirate captain of the seas.”

You snorted, running your finger over the metal curve. You swore you saw him shiver at that. “I find that hard to believe.”

Leaning closer, he said “You ride dragons. I thought you of all people know that we aren’t limited by our youth.”

Hearing the word “dragons” sent a jolt through your leg and you grimaced. Like hearing the cause of its loss was enough to make your foot feel it again. You’d almost forgotten about the pains now, and now they felt like they were starting to come back.

“Don’t say that.” You told him quietly, looking at his too-close-face so he could look in your eyes and understand that you were being serious.

“Say what?” He asked. His eyebrows scrunched upwards and his eyes filled with worry. You take a breath.

“The creature you just mentioned.” You told him with honesty, then looked dow again. “It’s making it worse right now.”

Realization must’ve clicked immediately in his brain because he moved his left arm into you field of view, showing his wrist without the hook that he took off earlier.

“I got mine eaten clean off by a crocodile.” He said, then gave a silly smirk. “It was my fault, really. I was being an idiot boy when I was fourteen- no, thirteen. A couple weeks after was my birthday and my mum gave me the hook for when I fully healed.”

You grinned; he had fibbed when he said how he obtained the hook. Glancing at your still shoe, you told him “I lost mine when I was thirteen too. My class was learning by watching our instructors handle a vicious one. Things got out of hand -quite literally- and next thing you know, due to some wicked sharp claws, I was out of foot.” You laugh a little at your joke. In the rare occasion you told someone what happened, you loved making the pun. Some laughed with you, some didn’t, and most looked at you like you were crazy. You didn’t let that bother you though, it was your trauma so you got to joke about it however you liked.

“I shouldn’t say I’m surprised.” Hook said. “I thought it might have something to do with dr- with those creatures. At least you get to tell people you lost it to one of them; how cool is that?” He ended excitedly.

You shrugged. “Most amputees from my home lost them the same way as me, so it’s pretty common to me.” Side-eying him and nudging his side you told him “I’ve never heard of stories of people losing limbs to crocodiles though, so I think yours is much cooler!”

He beamed a little. “Really?”

“Yes.” You told him. “Why would I lie to you, Hook?” He bristled a little.

“What’s the matter?”

“Oh,” he waved you off with his hand. “Nothing really, I guess I didn’t expect you to call me that.”

“What? Hook?”

“Mhmm.”

“But… that’s your name?”

He looked into your eyes; his own moving back and forth between yours due to being so close. At some point you two had shifted closer and your legs were now touching.

“Hook,” He began slowly, moving his tongue around in his mouth to get the words right. “Is the name associated with the pirate. The Villain Kid. The bad person. All of which I’m completely fine with! Despite what others say or think, I’m happy with who I am. But-“ he softened his voice and leaned closer again. Much, much closer. “Hearing you call me by that name makes me feel like you only see those things. I know that’s not completely true,” he added, whispering “I just feel this ache in my heart when you say it. I don’t want you to call me that.”

Despite feeling your heart lodged in your throat, you managed to get out a “What would you like me to call you?”

A “hnn” came out of his lips and you couldn’t help by look at them. “Call me James.”

“James.” You said, testing his name on your tongue. His eyes went wild when you did so.

“Yes, darling?” He whispered. You leaned closer.

“I- “

The tower bell rung. Students started streaming out of doors and into the courtyard. You both jumped back. Then, H- James gets up.

“Meet me at the entrance after school.” He told you.

“Why?” You quiz, now blushing, holding up his hook for him.

He put it on then grabbed your hand before you could lower it.

“Because,” his eyes twinkled, now bowing at the waist. “I’m going to take you on an adventure!” And with that, he pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckle and walked away before you could even process what this charming boy had just done to you.

Extra:

Hook: Um, guys? Remember how Scarface said they wanted a peg leg?

Hook: Well… turns out they have a prosthetic foot…

Everyone:…

Maleficent: You’re such an idiot

Part 4

[cobaltperun]

Lost (19) - Where I belong

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.1k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-So take my slow beating heart, you are where I belong-

You stood in front of two gravestones, feeling ashamed that it took you this long to come here. “Sorry I’m late, I didn’t bring anything, didn’t feel like I deserved to,” you still knelt down to pull some grass that began growing around the two graves. No one really attended to them, they had no one, after all. In this huge city Susan’s life stopped when she lost Zack, and she no longer had anyone that might take care of the graves, no close friend, no family. She only had her memories and, ever since you brought Tara and Sam to Sacramento, she had you and Tara. “Tara would have come as well, but, I have to deal with someone, I didn’t want to put her in danger or leave her alone here,” you explained, remembering the resigned acceptance on Tara’s face when you told her what your plan was.

“Thomas… he brought up something, he said you were the only one who would choose me over anyone else,” you said, digging your hands into the pockets of your coat, it was getting a bit cold, and a strong wind blew in your face, forcing you to squint a bit. “I’ve been thinking about that. Somewhat. Would I have acted any differently last year if I knew you’d be in danger?” you didn’t have the answer. On one side you knew you cared about Susan even back then, simply because of the time you spent with her and Zack and, more importantly, because she was Zack’s mother. On the other side Tara was in danger.

“What-ifs are pointless anyway,” you spoke. It was a stupid question, a one or the other question where you’d be forced to choose. How ridiculous. Life wasn’t as simple as that. Take last year for example. At first glance it was a choice between Tara and Susan, but you did have the third option, San Francisco, where your gym at the time was. Or simply a hotel, if that didn’t work, if you knew you’d be putting Susan in danger you simply would have taken Tara somewhere else. Hell, just taking her to your apartment would have been a good way to keep her safe.

You still felt like you caused her death, even if you kept telling Tara and Sam they weren’t to blame for what happened you somehow failed to take your own advice. No wonder those two had such deep issues. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this, for not being there when you needed me,” you said as several tears slid down your cheeks. “I should have told you so many things,” you told her you loved her in a voice mail sent long after she was dead. Life had a funny way of being cruel sometimes and you would forever regret not telling Susan you loved her, she deserved to hear it every time you talked to her, every time you saw her, every time you had the chance, you should have told her those three words.

~X~

The house hasn't changed much since you turned eighteen, you saw they changed the doors, but other than that, it was exactly how you remembered it, at least from the outside. A three-story house that screamed 'we're rich!' to anyone passing by, with its over-the-top fence and decorations, and the damn marble lions looking down on whoever went through their gate.

You typed in the code, your father's birthday, disabling the locks on the first try. Of course, those two wouldn't bother to change it. You were just happy you managed to remember it. And so, you came inside the house and sat down in the living room, waiting for the parents to come back home. You looked around, the house was the same on the outside but on the inside? Brand new furniture. More expensive than comfortable, really, but you just closed your eyes and waited. If you looked at it for too long you were worried you'd start breaking things.

An hour later the doors opened, and you heard your parents laughing, joking about whatever they found funny that day. This was one of the reasons you felt so suffocated in this house, because, almost as if to convince you that you were the problem and not them, they were loving to one another. Laughing, singing praises of one another, exchanging words of affirmation, but never quite choosing to express their feelings through touches. Now that you thought about it maybe that was why you were so adamant about having Tara in your arms as often as you could, why touch was your preferred love language for her specifically. The instinctual need to be the opposite of your parents in as many ways as you could be.

"Long time no see," you enjoyed seeing them jump when they saw you, they looked like they saw a ghost, they looked afraid. Good, you wanted them to be afraid, you wanted them to have nightmares of you coming after them. "I'd say it's a pleasure to be here again, but we both know it's not."

"Y/N," your father spoke, and you saw him taking a step back. Funny how you never noticed just how little it took to startle him. He would have been less than average if he wasn't born into money, in fact, from what you read in Gale's brief research on the company it was in decline for years now, only surviving on old reputation and questionable deals. The fact that you and Zack were his children pissed you off.

"Let's be quick about this. Thomas is dead, I'm very much alive despite your efforts and I want to be left alone, so don't try to hire another hitman to kill me or my loved ones," you spoke evenly.

"Or else what?" he acted like he actually could negotiate anything here.

You stood up, and while you lost some muscle due to coma and slow recovery you could still look intimidating enough. "I die and your entire reputation is done for. I revealed everything, one wrong move and it all goes public," you saw fear in their eyes as you walked past them. For good measure, you stopped at the front door and turned to glare at them. "Six people came after me, one way or another, all six are dead and I don't mind adding a few more to that list. I'd just prefer not to dirty my hands with your blood unless I have to," you left no doubt that you would if needed. “I don’t care what your reasons are, just try to touch Tara, or anyone else I care about, just try to interfere in any way, and I will not stop until everything you ever created was gone. Your company, this house, any property you have, your reputation, and then your lives, there won’t be anything left.”

You wanted revenge for what happened to Susan, but you couldn't prove they hired Thomas.

So, this would have to do, unless they tried again. So, you left the house, slamming the doors behind you and hoping you would never have to hear or see them again.

~X~

You wouldn’t stick around Woodsboro for long, but you did drop by your former bosses to grab a bite and see how they were doing. The old couple did so much for you, renting that small apartment, giving you a job, they deserved your gratitude, but given what happened to Susan, you were cautious, afraid that being associated with you could cause them harm. Still, they were happy to see you, and you were just as happy to hear they were doing well. It was a busy day at the restaurant, and you were glad their business was doing so well, but it also meant they didn’t have time to chat, which was more than okay with you.

While you waited for your meal you went and called Tara, and she answered withing three seconds, which frankly didn’t surprise you.

“Y/N?” you could hear the worry in her voice.

“Hey, I’m fine, they won’t bother us again, they know what’s at stake for them,” you told her, easing her worries as quickly as you could.

You heard Tara sighing in relief and smiled a bit. “Thank goodness! I was losing my mind over here!”

“I’m okay, Love,” you assured her softly, your tone the complete opposite of her panicking, worry filled voice, even now that she heard you were okay.

“When are you coming back?” she asked, and you could imagine her fidgeting in your shirt with Sam trying to calm her down.

You looked around, no one was paying attention to you from what you could see. “I have the flight back in the morning, I’ll head back to Sacramento in an hour and spend the night in the hotel,” you told her, though you kept your voice low just in case. Were there reasons to be worried? Probably not, but you weren’t in top shape, you couldn’t fight that well right now.

“Okay, stay safe, please. I love you, Y/N,” Tara sent you a kiss through the phone and you smiled like a fool.

“I will, I love you too, Tara,” you replied.

“I see you and Tara are still going strong, not that I ever doubted you two,” you heard your former boss say as she brought you the food you ordered.

“Yeah!” you grinned at her.

~X~

Tara was waiting for you at the airport, she even let Sam drive your car because she knew you'd lose your mind over her driving it while you weren’t with her. She couldn't wipe the smile off her face, you called her after you left your parents' house, reassuring her you were perfectly fine and that you'd be on the first flight home. She was still worried, but she trusted you completely. You’d be fine, you knew how to take care of yourself.

Tara still couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that your parents were involved. Her mother was definitely not a good parent, but as bad as she was, Tara doubted she would hire someone to kill her or Sam. Thomas' words came to her mind and her smile fell. Suddenly she felt vulnerable, surrounded by people she didn’t know. Everything around her felt too loud, too intense, there were too many people, and any one of them could put her and the people she loved in danger. She couldn’t live like that, she couldn’t constantly worry that she would somehow end up in the situation Thomas described. She had to move on, to the best of her abilities, and without parties and alcohol this time. The therapy was helping her, but more than that it was her desire to be as happy as she could be with you that pushed her to get even better. You’d be back home soon, and that thought helped her handle the bustling crowd a bit easier.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked her and placed an arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

Tara wanted to talk to Sam about it, but how could she? How could she say to her sister that she'd feel immeasurable guilt if she had to choose her instead of you? Prior to what happened at the bodega and especially before what happened at the theatre, she would say she'd never have to make that choice. You were strong. So, so incredibly strong, the idea of anyone actually being able to beat you felt unfathomable.

Yes, you technically were beaten when you first fought Amber and Richie, but that was because she was taken hostage and you still managed to get back on your feet and take her to safety. Stabs and bullet wounds, they couldn't stop you. A heart attack couldn't stop you. Even when you were hurt you could keep going, as you have proven time and time again.

When Tara thought of strength, she thought of you. To imagine a situation in which your life relied on her choice was almost impossible. To then add Sam being in a similar situation, and to further all that by saying Tara could only save one of you. It was beyond the realms of possibility to her.

But then you nearly died. Then it took you sixteen days to wake up and several days to even get up. You managed to lift her up off the ground right before you left New York, two days ago, and you struggled. You struggled to lift Tara up. You never struggled to do that, and Tara actually lost some weight since you nearly died. She just found it difficult to eat while you were in a coma, and she was yet to regain the weight she lost.

The image of an invisible MMA fighter was shattered and now Tara woke up, screaming and covered in cold sweat, from yet another nightmare that had you in that ambulance with doctors saying they couldn't stop your bleeding. That they were losing you. More often than not, when she would wake up like that you'd sit up and hug her right away and she could see in your eyes that you were awake long before she'd wake up. She still didn't know if you were having nightmares or if you couldn't sleep to begin with.

So, no. She couldn't say any of this to Sam. "Sorry, I was just thinking," she apologized to Sam, clamming up and refusing to talk. She still leaned to the side and returned the one-armed hug.

Tara noticed you immediately, even among the huge crowd she somehow always easily found you. And from the way you were already heading toward her, she knew it was the same way for you. She ran into your arms and despite some hesitation on her part, she didn't resist when you lifted her up, just a bit easier than when you left. "I don't think we need to worry about those two again," you muttered into her neck, once again reassuring her that everything would be fine in the future as you slowly set her back down.

"Mhm," Tara just relaxed, carefully remembering every detail of your hugs. She basked in the warmth of your touch through one of your shirts she had on. Your scent, your breath against her exposed neck, the firm grip on her waist it was all you and she loved it.

When she separated from you Sam took her opportunity and hugged you as well. "Welcome back," she said, prompting you to smile.

"It's good to be back," you said, and Tara understood you weren't talking just about coming back from Woodsboro. You were still rather thankful for waking up from a coma without any lasting effects on your health. "How's the apartment hunting going, by the way?" you asked.

"We found one, we like it, we think you'll like it as well," Sam said.

Tara, not wanting to leave your side for even a moment now that you were away from her for two days, took your hand and pulled you along.

~X~

By the end of the week, you moved into your new apartment. It had three bedrooms, once again you chose to have one bedroom for the nights someone from your group chose to stay over. It was a bit bare, without much of a personal touch, and you were sure Tara would take it upon herself to change that about it as soon as she got time for that.

You thought the new apartment would chase away the nightmares, at least until you got used to it, but it didn't. Not eve Tara right next to you managed to chase the nightmares away.

You saw them, sitting in Susan’s living room, looking healthy, alive, happy. That’s how it always started, you’d enter the house and see Susan and Zack just like that. And then, as if you were an intruder that interrupted their lives, they’d turn to you and they’d change. They’d morph from how you remembered them into twisted abominations, rotting and carved up and enraged.

And every time Zack would attack you, pushing you back and doing his signature spinning back kick, the move he taught you, the move you adopted as your own signature during your career. It would always send you hitting the wall, and making his gloves fall from it to the floor, and they’d always roll over into your view. He’d then put you in a chokehold, and even if you wanted to you just wouldn’t move.

“Why?! Why did you let my mom die Y/N?!” he would demand again and again, and you’d look up to see the disappointment in Susan’s eyes.

“You killed me, if it wasn’t for you I’d still be alive,” she’d tell you.

You didn’t beg for forgiveness, or to be let go, not anymore. You’d just wake up when his chokehold would make you pass out, covered in cold sweat and breathing heavily.

You couldn't sit up though, instinctively choosing not to wake Tara up, so at least there was that. She had her own nightmares to deal with and soon enough, perhaps twenty minutes after you woke up Tara woke up as well, screaming. So, you immediately pulled her into a hug, her inhaler at ready in case she needed it.

Tara crawled onto your lap and pressed her face against the crook of your neck. "What are you dreaming about?" she asked, almost sounding afraid. In fact, she probably was afraid to ask that questions.

"Susan and Zack, blaming me for Susan's death," you admitted and Tara just hugged you tighter.

"It wasn't your fault. It's none of our fault lunatics want to hurt us," she said, repeating your words right back at you, and you nodded. Reasonably, you knew that, but it would still take a while to have a peaceful sleep.

"What about you?" you asked as you slowly played with a few strands of Tara's hair.

"I have nightmares of you in the ambulance, only you don't wake up this time, you die, I lose you," you felt a tear landing on the skin of your neck and gently kissed the top of Tara's head.

"I'm awake, Love, I heard your voice," even when you were in a coma you were vaguely aware of Tara always being by your side, and when you were ready to wake up it was her voice and touch that sped it up.

Tara pulled away slightly. "About what Thomas said," she began, but you pressed a finger against her mouth.

"It doesn't matter. It'll never happen. The situation will never be so dire," you said firmly, you couldn’t let her get stuck in those thoughts, Tara already had enough to deal with without Thomas’ words fucking with her head. “I will never let anyone force that choice on you!" you promised, and you'd keep that promise as long as you were alive.

Tara took a deep breath to calm down. “I know it’s an unlikely scenario, but still,” she muttered. “I can’t stand the idea of choosing between you and Sam. It feels like I’d give anything up for Sam, other than you, and the same goes the other way around,” she told you, shivering due to the cold. It was December after all.

“I’d scold you if it was any different,” you told her, you didn’t want Tara to ever again go through losing Sam. That was one thing you were absolutely certain of. No matter the cost, you would keep your family whole and that included Sam. You lost Susan, you never wanted to lose anyone else you loved in such a violent way.

Tara nodded. “I know, I’m counting on you to do that,” she managed to smile a bit before kissing you softly and you gently returned the kiss. It took some time, but you were both slowly getting better and talking about your trauma instead of bottling it up.

~X~

A week later you finally settled into your new apartment, and Sam was finally fine with leaving you two alone to go on a, preferably long, date with Danny. He really came through for all of you, bringing the police and paramedics to the theatre, not to mention finding you, which probably saved your life. He mentioned he heard a loud thud and went to check, hoping it was nothing, but there you were, bleeding out next to dead Thomas. So, as far as you and Tara were concerned, he was clear to move in whenever Sam decided she wanted to take that step.

You just stepped out of the shower after a workout, which actually went really well. You finally felt confident enough to get up with Tara in your arms, to carry her whenever she wanted you to, plain and simple you were doing much better now that you were building your strength back up. Your eyes still glanced down at the scar from the rebar when you stepped in front of the mirror. It came in through your lower back and went diagonally, exiting your body just beneath your chest and it was nothing short of a miracle that nothing important was damaged and that only the scar remained. Sighing, you grabbed your clothes and put them on, a comfortable shirt that was a bit loose on you now, since you still haven’t regained all your muscles, and tracksuit pants since you wanted to just relax with Tara.

The moment you entered your and Tara's bedroom she threw her arms around you and pulled you into a kiss. She clutched the back of your shirt and ran her fingers through your hair, tugging gently as she deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around her and pulled her as close to you as physically possible.

"So needy," you chuckled when she pulled back for a moment.

"Like you aren't?" she challenged, looking fiercely into your eyes.

"Mhm, I definitely am," it's been too long, way too long since you could just relax and make love to one another. You leaned down, kissing her neck.

"Baby," she moaned when you nipped at the side of her neck and you immediately pulled back, looking at her wide-eyed. Tara blushed but kept looking at you. "Baby, please," she said again, acting as if she never stopped saying that word all the while gently caressing the back of your neck.

There was a reason Amber chose to persistently call Tara 'baby', specifically, you were the reason because Tara would call you like that jokingly whenever you weren't immediately giving in to her demands. She stopped when she got together with Amber and just never went back to calling you like that.

"Say it again," you demanded, lifting her up, taking a few steps to the side and pushing her against the wall.

"Baby," she moaned into your ear as you unbuttoned the top buttons of her, previously your, button-up shirt and yanked it down, and since it was way too big for her it just fell from her shoulders.

"Again, Love," every time she said it you were more and more certain she would be able to completely get over what Amber did to her, that she'd eventually fully heal.

"Baby!" she cried out, maybe even a bit too loudly as you began kissing her bare shoulders and tugging the straps of her bra down.

"You are where I belong Tara," you pulled back, pressing your forehead against hers. She quickly captured your lips, making you both get lost in the passion. When you separated to catch your breath you looked her in the eyes.

It was a demand fueled by lust and desire and need for Tara, all fueled by the love you had for her. Nonetheless, you doubted you ever demanded anything with as much conviction and seriousness. "Spend the rest of your life with me. Marry me," you'd go through all the proper proposal stuff at a more appropriate time, but you couldn't stop yourself from blurting it out.

Tara looked at you just for a moment. Taking the demand in. "Thought you'd never ask," she smiled and kissed you one more time. The pent-up needs, desires and all the emotions, you’d satisfy them all, getting lost in one another until there was nothing else left in to world but you two and your love for one another.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[hexcii]

I’ve had this dca au in my head for a long time and I really wanna turn it into a fanfic. I just need to get some stuff figured out for it (and get over the fear of actually publishing it and being perceived cough cough) but I’m not very confident in my writing and idk how fast I am at writing actual chapters so probably going to be a long ass time before I actually make anything writing wise

But I really wanna do art of it which I’m going to do either way

The basic premise is fae sun and moon with a disabled witch reader. (Yeah it’s very self indulgent, which is also a reason I’m a lil hesitant to share it since idk if anyone else would want to read something like that lmao-) Sun and Moon are constantly trying to “woo” the reader but they keep mistaking it as them attempting to steal them away

It’s very silly, wholesome idiots to lovers

But I’m curious if anyone except me would actually want to see that so- I guess I’m asking here-

[blindbeta]

Hello! I'd like to ask how to do image descriptions for tags. I always get confused when I do them. Should I keep the #? Should I do exactly how the person wrote, like no upper case letters? What should I do about emojis and emoticons?

Image Descriptions For Tags, Including Hashtags, Lowercase Letters, Capital Letters, Emojis, and Emoticons

The hashtag is usually not needed unless it is an actual hashtag reference such as to a Twitter hashtag. If you would like, you can separate sentences with periods. If it is a list of individual words, you can write something like ‘Image Description: a series of words separated by hashtags written by user x. The words are as follows: disability, accessibility, accessible.’

When I write #disability #accessibility #accessible it is read as “hashtag disability hashtag accessibility hashtag accessible.” This means that while writing # might be okay for separate words or one sentence, writing it for a whole paragraph can make it difficult to understand. This is why my suggestion is to exclude the hashtag for tags that include sentences rather than a few individual words.

I think excluding the # helps with readability for screen-readers and for those who have other difficulties processing images. Using typical punctuation also helps with preserving tone and pacing. Perhaps using other symbols such as bullet points or commas could help to create natural pauses for screen-readers, depending on what is being conveyed. If you would like, you can include notes such as that you excluded the hashtags or replaced them with periods to increase accessibility.

Similarly, you can add notes about capitalization. Screen-readers will read ‘i love cats’ [lowercase] and ‘I LOVE CATS’ [capitalized] the same way. You can include notes about if everything was written with lowercase letters for style or in all caps for emphasis. Here is an example, perhaps someone has shared a picture of a cat with helpful image description. Someone who thought their tags were cute includes a screen-shot of the tags.

[Image Description: A screen-shot of tags in reference to the above picture of a cat. The tags say: ‘I love cats. So. MUCH. [Much is in all caps for emphasis.] End Image Description]

Emojis can be read by a screen-reader, such as voiceover, but if you want to write that there is a cupcake emoji, feel to write ‘cupcake emoji’. Screen-readers read cupcake and 🧁 the same way. For emoticons, it depends. Some emoticons can be read by a screen-reader, but more complicated ones cannot. It may be more helpful to describe the emoticon and what it is trying to convey.

Does anyone else have suggestions? How do you prefer to write image descriptions for tags? What makes them easier for you to read?

Edit: User @solarishashernoseinabook added the following:

I sometimes transcribe tags on separate lines

(usually when I’m on a computer) [in parentheses]

I start off with “tags that read as follows” beforehand

@solarishashernoseinabook explains that introducing punctuation could perhaps change the meaning, which is important. I think this is also an excellent option that maintains meaning while increasing accessibility.

Anyone else want to share how they do it?

[pavedinashes-if]

You asked for features/mechanisms, etc… Is there any way that you could implement a screen where we could check if the ROs generally like us?

For example, you could ask if we want to have access to such a screen at the beginning and disable it if somebody doesn't want it in their playthrough. It doesn't even have to have much insight — just a hint at what direction we're going with each RO relationship-wise.

I get that you want us to explore everything ourselves and replay for the desired outcome! I will replay this if over and over myself, I'm sure of it. But I think there are a lot of anxious readers that would prefer a little more "security" in their playthrough.

I, for one, can't play any VNs without a guide. Sometimes the nightmare endings are so horrific that my heart breaks and I get into a depressive episode.

If I can guess what's coming though, I handle it better. But if I have no indication of the outcome at all it can overwhelm me. I'm just too sensible sometimes.

Don't feel pressured and I get if you don't want to implement such a feature. But suggesting and telling my POV never hurts. Much love

Hi anon, thanks a lot for sharing your opinion. It matters, independent from whether we agree in the end or not.☺️ I always appreciate an exchange because I believe it can offer a chance to improve a creative work in a way that maybe none of both parties expected in the end.

Therefore, share your POV 🫶🏻

About your ask.... I see where you're coming from and I, myself, know the anxiety that comes with the desire to achieve the most perfect / unperfect outcome / ending of a story.

As for my story tho it is a bit difficult because the biggest premise is to embrace the unknown. Giving this away from the beginning feels ... almost saddening to myself.

Actual image of me rn:

BUT! What I could totally see is maybe something like an option to show some more insight at a later stage. Maybe available after the first playthrough or as a separate option. I don't know what possibilites there are but I'll keep it in mind. Thank you!!

EDIT:

I am trying to give as much insight as possible through the writing, through the POVs, little hints here and there. One advice would be though... if it smells like pooh, it most probably is. Not guaranteed, but chances are higher. Trust your instinct on red flags. Some ROs have less friendly motifs, which means that even if I had a positive stat somewhere or if in the story there is no hint, you'd still be at risk of being played. This being said, some endings wouldn't be avoidable even with a shown stat - unless I spoil the ending.

[baby-kittys-crib]

Wanna Join My Discord Server? :3c

If you're interested, here's all you need to know about my discord server before joining! It will be divided, but neat! This will be updated occasionally to make it accurate to the time. The link is at the bottom.

The server is safe for pet regressors, age regressors, dreamers, caregivers, flips, and little alters!

Dividers by @/softandsleepyboy

Questions Are Okay!

What Does It Have To Offer?

It has many channels, emojis, and a growing community! There are voice channels, and we sometimes watch things on there! You can also request things there, too.

It has a good support system, plural bots and plural options for systems, proper rules set up, and a good community.

What Are The Rules?

There is a strike system from 1-5, but you'll learn more when you join. It's the punishments system. Strikes can be appealed and revoked.

No homophobia, transphobia, racism, sexism, etc. at all.

No slurs. Even if you can reclaim them, this is a safe place and could make me or others uncomfortable.

Swearing is okay, just nothing over the top. (Like every sentence)

If you are caught being creepy and making someone uncomfortable, it is not okay. Especially if the person told you to stop many times.

This is a system friendly place, but please no syscourse.

No NSFW/18+ material. There are minors here!

Please use trigger warnings when using the vent channel.

Radqueer and trans-IDs aren't welcome here.

No discourse here unless in specific situations. Venting, ranting, etc.

Please be nice to anyone using screen readers.

It is okay to look for a caregiver in my server, but it is not a core aspect.

What If I Don't Know If I Regress?

That's okay!

There is a role for people to say that they are unsure or questioning if they age regress or not or simply a supporter of it.

There are still spaces for you to use even if you don't regress. ^w^

What Do I Do Since It's New?

There's many things you can do! There are channels, media and art channels, info dumping channels, and more!

I, Kitty, the owner, always take suggestions and listen. At least to the best of my ability. And if my server isn't for you, that's okay.

> Something To Keep In Mind <

I am a minor and severely disabled, I can only do so much. I do my best, but I can't do anything.

Currently, I am the only staff member. If you come in and try to get verified, I can't promise that you will immediately get seen. But I will do my best to check you out and help. Please be patient with me. ^w^

The Invite!

[northern-passage]

honestly same...I also only stick to reading the same ifs I've been reading since like 2 years ago + as a disabled lgbt person this community has gotten to toxic to interact wth tbh

hmmm putting this under a read more but here's some ramblings about my personal experience as well as some advice if anyone wants it

before i started writing tnp, when i was just a reader, it was very easy to curate my space and avoid a lot of the nastier people (especially back when the forums were the main space for people to talk about IF. i didn't go on the forums at all) and i was very much outside of the fandom and followed only like one artist whose recommendations i started off with before finding more stuff on my own.

once i became an author though it is impossible to avoid certain groups of people and it's really hard to hold on to that comfortable space. over the last like 3 years now my audience has definitely changed and dwindled a lot due to my.... Big personality but before that i had to endure a lot of harassment, people stalking me, people harassing my friends just for being my friend, almost constant transphobia and racism, and even now i still have people that seem to just camp in my inbox waiting for any opportunity to try and hurt me/get a reaction out of me.

i've been pretty open about all of this stuff happening too which most people also don't like, though that seems to be pretty standard across any fandom when you try to talk about how bad they are. i'm never really surprised when other authors delete without any warning or they just slowly stop posting and never come back. it's definitely something i've wanted to do more than once and still think about sometimes. even now after finally seeming to find my "niche" and a more understanding audience, it's really hard and i struggle with finding inspiration and motivation because of how people have treated me.

unfortunately i think it's always been this way, it's the nature of sharing work online and especially with IF feeling so "collaborative" people really feel entitled to it. and i also see readers facing this same kind of harassment, too, so it's definitely not just an author problem.

my advice is to just block and ignore people as best you can and just stay in your own little bubble with your friends or at least people that you trust. if you're an author going through any of the things i mentioned then just know there are a lot of other authors that have had to go through it, too, and that you should also just block and ignore to the best of your ability. just because you're an author doesn't mean you have to tolerate it. i used to respond to a lot of messages which is why i feel that a lot of my harassment lasted for so long, because they thought it was "funny" to upset me, but the more you respond and give them attention the more they'll keep doing it. so just block anons and move on (i know i make it sound so simple. trust me i used to be really bad about it, now i try to take at least a day or two before responding and usually by that time i realize how stupid it is and i just delete it without any fanfare)

at the end of the day though it's your decision, and your well-being comes first before anything else. i say this to both authors and readers, there's no reason to force yourself to stay in a place that makes you uncomfortable or is triggering. sometimes it's better to just let go and move on, though i know that's easier said than done. i'm a prime example as someone who still logs into tumblr daily despite trying really hard not to do that.

and i'm not saying to give up on your work, but rather that writing privately is always an option, and it's what i've been doing now with my other projects ever since i took siren's call down. i know the desire for outside validation can be overwhelming but i think it's important to remember that you should be writing this for yourself first and that there's no harm in keeping your work private until you're ready. tumblr is fun but there's also a lot of problems that can be difficult to deal with while you're also trying to keep motivation and creativity up to write your story, and it can be really discouraging.

like i said, your first priority should be yourself, and if you have to step back away from tumblr/fandom then you should & you shouldn't feel guilty about it.

all of that to say that there are nice people out there, too, i've made really good friends here and i really value their friendship and their understanding, especially when i was going through the worst of it. and there are a lot of readers who have been very kind to me and that have sent me very nice messages and drawn lovely art over the years and i always try to focus on that over everything else.

it can be really easy to get overwhelmed by all the negativity and hostility which is why it's so important to find your people and be supportive of each other.

[filtharchives]

My brain decided to go into "what if the MC in the OL games were disabled" ? And (un)fortunately you got picked by my brain to ramble with and hear opinions

Like imagine Cove with a deaf/hard of hearing MC, as kids they struggled a lot to communicate but when he got a bit older, Cove tried so hard to learn sign language so he could better communicate with MC. Hangman being their personal choice to communicate regardless of age being such a given that Cove is so happy for since it gives him time to articulate his thoughts !

Also if they use a cochlear implant, MC could just go "You're not worth my batteries" to Jeremy as kid so they were the only one chill with Jeremy since they didn't hear his rude words anyway(but still would have taken action in Miranda's birthday depending on Cove's reactions, I'm particularly into the punching or party whistle option)

Meanwhile on OL2 the MC being a wheelchair user sounds weirdly fitting to me, like obviously the house would have to be adapted with ramps on the porch and the MC's room being on the bottom floor but still, imagine Qiu going to ask if they have a bike or something, both just staring at each other(with Tamarack laughing in the background) until Qiu realized the wheel part of WHEELchair

The Walks moment having the MC preferring to go down the hill through the grass rather than the stream like the Boy's club did, but only when it's time for them to leave that they realize that they can't go back up on their own....cue to everyone helping push the MC uphill, maybe Darren complaining a bit while Baxter finds it amusing since he never had to do anything like that

Also both Tamarack's grandparents and Qiu's parents silently agreeing to also have ramps on their porches so MC can visit anytime

I never played Baxter nor Derek routes to properly think on them(my eyes are only on Cove) ;;;;;

I don’t know anything about physical disabilities so I don’t think I can say much on this

also never played the OL2 demo since I’m waiting on the full release 🙈

BUT I HAVE PLAYED BAXTER AND DEREKS ROUTES

I specifically imagine Step 2 w derek and his brothers and I think it’d be so cute like one day yall r hanging out in the big park and maybe nico wants to sit in ur lap while derek pushes ur wheelchair around as fast as he can like

“this is great! I can train my strength and speed like this!”

meanwhile jorge is running beside him trying to keep up 💀

and nico’s having the time of his life be what rambunctious little kid doesn’t love going fast on wheels

tbh kinda blanking on baxter lol sorry b-man

OH but in the same vein as cove learning asl for a deaf/hoh reader, I think I mentioned once in a previous ramble with @/sugar-omi that I like to imagine he’d learn a second language if u have one, especially if u learned it for ur culture

if u have kids and want ur kids to be bilingual like u, cove would be cool with speaking ur second language at home and stuff so the kids adapt

that goes for all the OL1 boys I think cause they’re all sweet like that

[audreycritter]

Hi! Do you think there’s any room for Calkins-style story-based learning/encouraging a love for reading in the classroom, or should curriculums be purely focused on the evidence-based phonics instruction?

I'm gonna be honest, I really don't like Lucy Calkins. Her denial of the actual evidence supporting phonics-based reading programs has been incredibly detrimental to educational programs because her influence was so vast. It's only recently that she's recanted that stance or folded some phonics into her recommendations.

The truth is, with a few exceptions for precocious kids who have a natural bent for story-telling and reading, most kids aren't ready to be creative in this specific way when they're also learning to read. Many, many kids love to tell stories or make up stories or scenarios-- very few of them have any kind of recognizable story structure when they're in the 4-8 year old range. Putting that down on paper in a way that supports reading skills is ... way too much for most kids.

I'm on mobile and trying to collect/organize my thoughts, so I'll go through them with numbers to try to coherently cover the things I want to touch on. Keep in mind that I'm not a trained expert-- I'm just a life-long learner who has taught kids to read and worked with learning disabilities and neurodivergent kids, as well as NT kids.

1. Story is one of the first and earliest "academic" concepts it's beneficial to expose kids to. Kids benefit from being read to when they're very small and that benefit continues when they grow. Kids should be read to at their age level, above their age level, and for their interests. You foster a love for story by engaging with stories and the kid together. Even people who are never strong or comfortable readers can enjoy and love stories.

2. The mechanics of reading (phonics primarily, whole word for some kids depending on LDs) have very little to do with story when a kid is first reading. Pairing them often leads, in my experience, to frustration. Learning to read doesn't have to be BORING, but expecting story to "unlock" reading for a kid still working on sounds is...a bit out of order? Some kids "get" reading at some point, something CLICKS, and they find things they love to read. But for most kids, trying to retain "story" from one page to the next while they ALSO do the work of decoding sounds is a LOT.

3. Kids are SO creative, but being creative and having coherent creative output are two different things. Writing things down and reading and telling a story are all using different functions/pathways in the brain and it takes time to link those things. They need to be strong skills to work together. Asking a beginning reader to make up a new sentence about something and write it down is like telling an adult to sit and write the great american novel-- it's daunting. It's why so many kids who CAN verbally tell stories cry over homework that asks them to "describe" something. Kids in the 5-9 age set should almost always be given the option of dictating creative material to someone who can write it down for them, and even then, they need help. Their creativity at that age is a state of play, not usually a structured output. It's sort of like asking them to "demonstrate" creative playground play. A few kids will love to show off, many of them will act confused or self-conscious or freeze up.

4. I think love of story and love of reading are linked. I think they support each other. But driving reading education by using guess words and context and sight words to "unlock" story, or expecting a child's natural love of story to be part of some creative output that supports reading, are things that fail most kids. Early academic education is laying the foundation for all of these skills that should eventually work together. Reading is a skill. Writing, conceptually, is a skill. Physically writing with a pencil is a skill. Being able to tell back a story is a skill. They're all things that should be working alongside each other, but they use different parts of the brain and you can't help a kid make progress on one skill with an entirely different skill they aren't comfortable with yet.

Kids should be surrounded by story. They should get structured, specific sound education for reading. They should get to be creative. But you also have to know what their brains are doing and where they're growing to support that-- you can't ask them to work with tools they don't have yet. Teaching a kid to read and teaching them to love stories are two different things at that stage, and it leads to frustrated, struggling readers to treat them as the same thing.

[aromantic-misguide-to-romance]

A Short Guide to Tumblr Culture

If you've set up your account already, for example following this guide, it's also good to know how people use Tumblr.

tags - tagging is great to get your post seen and also great to keep some kind of order in your reblogs, but many people use tags to add an usually appreciative commentary, so the tag section can get... chatty. The commentary is usually meant for your followers and the OP.

do NOT censor words, especially not in tags. NEVER do anything like "#tw sp*ders" in tags - you'll effectively reach people who try to avoid and block this trigger. Name things properly. And also remember to disable iOS app censorship in your settings in browser if you're on iOS.

usually you don't add any captions to reblogs until you have something relevant to add or want to discuss as reblogging often results in a conversation. Starting a conversation on any creative post like fic or art is not very polite.

the comment option is barely used. Many people won't even respond to a comment if the original post was on their side blog (side blogs can't comment), and comments are generally for the OP as no one really checks the comments on someone else's post. You can definitely comment under artworks though! The writer/artist will appreciate every nice word!

you can follow reblog dominated blogs if your taste in posts/art/fandoms match and reblog from them. You'll have a daily dose of nice stuff on a silver platter and no one will really mind.

time doesn't exist on Tumblr. Unearth and reblog that fossiled post if you like it! Others might appreciate your archeological discovery.

you'll generally see plenty of old posts/reblog convos making rounds - heritage posts are a thing! (ex. high geologist thread) They're old, have a load of notes and get back on your dash periodically.

spam liking/reblogging is not a thing. Spam people with appreciation if you binge the blog! Waking up to 99+ notifs because someone loved every single post I made in last 3 years is awesome. If someone doesn't like it, they just state it in their bio or something but I suspect those are migrants from other platforms.

if you're still worried, there's a thing called queue. You can set your posts/reblogs to get auto posted at an interval when you add them to queue in the reblog screen. The interval is yours to decide.

you might see a destiel meme with "I love you" and a reply that summarises some recent real world news. That's how we pass important information around.

if you see a shortened post "Do you like the color of the sky", don't extend it. If it's the original post, it's long. To the point you'll keep scrolling for 84 years and we're traumatised already. And if it's not, it's a meme that references our collective trauma so not aimed at you anyway.

Tumblr is the source of the fandom of Goncharov, the greatest mafia movie ever made. Shenanigans and running jokes like that might happen, if they annoy you, block the tags/words! If you find them delightful, jump into it!

if you post a thing that's not SFW, use community labels. In case of fics, people use Read More option too and often tag it as smut. This tradition is truly worth continuing.

if you're wondering if you can post stuff that isn't very SFW is allowed on Tumblr, text posts are usually fine. Images, despite the rules having gotten a bit less strict, might be flagged more or less randomly and it takes ages to appeal it and no one really knows the rules, probably not even Tumblr staff because all the information is... vague. But appeal it. Who knows.

about Read More option - aside from covering smut, it's often used as means to hide a part of the post that might be upsetting or triggering. It's good manners to make sure that the reader is informed what they're about to encounter and put that Read More in the post.

report spam tagging. It's in your interest not to have your tag feed littered with spam. Tumblr culture is being very passionate about tags remaining relevant.

report and block sexygirlbots. Letting them follow you or spam tags will only result in a bot siege and nothing else since we don't have public stats here.

also XKit (currently XKit Rewritten) is a very popular browser plug-in that adds even more useful features like shuffling your queue or customised timestamps. Scripts that alter the layout are also popular since Tumblr is generally a mess, we just learnt to reshape the interface.

Tumblr is still relatively anonymous. People don't put their selfie, location and name in their profile... bots on the other hand do. And we block bots on sight.

speaking of anonymity, the checkmarks you see sometimes mean nothing. They're a meme. There are no "verified" Tumblrs but you might actually see Neil Gaiman here.

last but not least, if you're confused about reblogging vs reposting, reposting is a no-no. Do not download someone's work to post it as an original post. Reblogging is one of the basic Tumblr feature and is good. It doesn't take anything from the OP, the reblog links to their blog and the OP gets all the notes on the post and its reblogs. The reblogger gets those notes too, but only for their own reblog. So basically, two people get notes for the reblog. That's very nice.

[jayne-hecate-writer]

Imperial Data Pad

Well, it's winter and it's cold. As is often the case with me, I am fighting the winter blues because the cold and the damp make my bones ache and my connective tissues stiffen like old ironing boards. To counter this, I use the tried and tested method of swearing, sulking and acts of self destruction, such as learning new sports or going too hard with physio therapy to overcome a frozen shoulder, which leads to extra aches and pains.

This year, I have decided to give the complete self destruction a race pass until spring and instead focus my attention onto arts and crafts. To which I have dabbled quite a lot recently, having made the discovery that I am in fact an artist as well as a science graduate. You may be asking why I have talked about my disabilities and then my art? This is because on this occasion, I have combined them in more than one way and I shall explain further, so read on if you would like to know more.

Basically, I really love reading. I read every day and will devour a book in anything from hours, to days or to weeks, depending on the chosen book. However, heavy, thick paper books with fine print are no longer something I can spend my time with due to failing eye sight and painfully arthritic hands. So a few years ago I acquired a Kindle e-Reader and to be honest, it is the best piece of tech I have ever owned and my dear device must be close to ten years old now. I have read hundreds of e-books, some were great classics while some were pure trash. Some of the classics took some work to understand, in particular the philosophical and political works of Hyndeman or Kropotkin and then there was several weeks of my trying to read Marx for fun.

An adaption that the Kindle has, which makes reading so much easier as I approach middle age is that the font size can be made as small or as large as your can comfortably read. Recently, I had noticed that for night time reading, the font size was trending towards the sixteen or eighteen point size. I could wear my reading glasses, but even with font size changed, my biggest problem was light. The Kindle cover I use with my device is now so old and tatty that the flex points are as floppy as old curtains and the LED reading light has significantly dimmed over the years, even with new batteries fitted.

So what was a girl to do? I could go out and buy a new one, the Kindle itself is starting to show the signs of ageing too, being no longer able to fully charge any more and then losing charge in a matter of days rather than previous time gap of weeks. Or maybe I just read too much? However, both Kindle and cover were bought for me by my wife and as such, they have a great deal of sentimental value to me. Luckily, the wife knows that I border on being a crazy artist and despite her saying that I should treat myself to a new device with cover, I think that I can keep these two going for another few years yet. So into the workshop we must go, my dear beloved Kindle.

Step one was the planning and with a simple book cover design, with a built in flip over reading light, the original cover was a rather plain looking design in red PVC fake leather. The edges were fading to white and the spine was threadbare, so it needed some repairs as well as customising with some paint and other fun details. The original light was a single white LED, which I considered changing to a different colour, but I was not sure how that would effect my ability to read in the dark. My next option was to swap out the LED for a brighter white one and then when I took the light unit apart I found that the LED had been wired with a dirty great resistor, which lowered the light output significantly. So I set about fiddling with it to see what I could retrofit and that was when I discovered that the plastic construction of the light unit was somewhat thin and flimsy when it split, before falling apart in my hands. Not to worry, I simply made other plans, involving using a modern pair of LED's mounted on a custom board. Finding the board I wanted to use was easy, I just took a standard LED light and took a hacksaw to it, reattaching as many LEDs as I desired once I was finished cutting, which in this case was just two. I then cut and shaped a new light housing, reflector and set the angle of the LEDs to shine on the middle of the Kindle 'page'.

The rest of the cover needed some inspiration, so with my almost (yeah, right!) fanatical obsession with Star Wars, I set about making the device look like an Imperial Officer's data pad. As always, my choice of media was old bits of cardboard and plenty of cheap super glue. However, for this project I also used riveted snap studs, old knicker elastic and nylon webbing from an old back pack. The front cover still looked fairly plain, so I raided the bottom of the box of making junk and found a moulded plastic sheet that I have used in the past to make realistic looking street cobbles. I don't know what possible function it could have on the cover, but it really does look like is belongs there.

Once I had finished the construction and made it look bright and resplendent, after I sprayed it with my new air brush, with a flat metallic silver paint giving the cover it's smooth shiny gloss, It was time for some fun. This is the bit I enjoy the most, the fun with the filthiest of filth. Using a mix of brown, black, metallic copper and metallic brass paints and then attacking it with sandpaper, I got it looking like it had been through a firefight on the bridge of a Star Destroyer, maybe the Death Star itself. Once it was finished, I hit it with clear coat and left it to harden, while I fiddled with the other parts, such as the new clasp that holds it closed and finally attaching the new light. With it all done I was rather pleased with the outcome. Happily, it is far from perfect because it looks dreadfully dirty, maybe even a little scorched or corroded in places and the previously actual worn out parts have been reinforced nicely. Hopefully, I will get another ten years out of this little beauty.

[theriantastic]

hey everycreature!

Requests are: Open!!

ive established the queue and am in the process of wrangling the other mods to make an intro post, but for now,

Welcome to the blog, and I think you're theriantastic!

i'm mod thatch, and i'm thrilled to be filling out requests and queuing therian themed stuff!!

- 🧭

Request Information

Accessibility Information

We accept requests for stimboards, moodboards, gifsets, delta-theta symbol icons, seven point star symbol icons, and general positivity!!

We will also post asks that are labeled "confession" or "kinfession" without comment and with appropriate tags.

Visual:

strobe effects and quickly changing colors are tagged as "#flashing"

eye contact from any species is tagged (when clear) as "#scopophobia"

animal injury is tagged as "#animal injury"

animal death and feeder animals are tagged as "#animal death"

injury and attack to animals by animals is tagged as "#hunting"

gore and body horror visuals will be tagged at the mod's discretion. we will use tags and language common to the medical disability community, the gore art community, and the fashion industry. please feel free to message a mod if something slipped through the cracks and could use a tag!!

all posts will try to have every species depicted have a tag present. the current tagging format is "#[species common name]kin" and "#[species clade]" and i'm trying to be generous in handing out clades. some families are like jenga towers. idk. anyways

Auditory:

*disclaimer* i do not typically use a screen reader, and as such can be naive in regards to how certain formatting options or emoji usage can affect one. i'm using this blog to learn more about screen reader accessibility specifically, so any advice or information is much appreciated!!

that being said,

all images posted to this blog will have alt text upon posting. if an upload breaks, please let a mod know!!

all reblogged images that do not contain alt text or an added text description will be tagged as "#undescribed"

images which have alt text will be tagged as "#ID in alt text"

images that a mod describes in the tags will be tagged as "#id in tags"

images which have a description added by another user will be tagged as "#described"

Other

food will be tagged as "#food"

all media will be tagged with the media's full common name to allow blacklisting.

the mods will avoid resharing guilt inducing posts

the mods will reshare "rent lowering gunshots" in the form of antifascist rhetoric and positivity for oppressed groups.

positivity posts will not be consistently tagged so that transmisogynists cannot filter them out

jokes, aesthetics and stories which suggest frightening or unsettling themes which are incompatible with reality will be tagged as "#unreality". this is not expected to be used frequently.

gore will be tagged as "#gore". this will be a catch-all tag that may be added liberally to content.

cutting stims will be tagged as "#cutting"

hands will be tagged as "#hands"

animals which are not in the wild will be tagged as "#captivity"

the "🚩" will be added as a tag to any post which a mod deems questionable of being harmful or unsafe. ultimately it is the responsibility of the viewer of this blog to refrain from reenacting any harmful behavior. that being said please never ever feed a bear with your bare hands. they barely need it and it bears the danger of unbearable bear attack.

I'll try to keep this post up to date ^^

-🧭