#It was once or twice if it was one or two things but I don't know why I'm so. Fucking nothing that just everywhere I go I just

[myloveer0]

My lovely darling

Girlfriend Ambessa Medarda X Fem!reader

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Summary: You were just trying to survive your family reunion when Ambessa Medarda—your girlfriend—showed up unannounced. Now, you have no choice but to introduce her to your entire clan. What’s got you nervous isn’t just introducing any partner—it’s the fact that you’re dating a woman who also happens to be twice your age.

💋 Enough with the smut we need sweet girlfriend Ambessa💋

All of the Ambessa's fic are mostly smut. Now i want write different this time ;)

Part I

The night of the gathering was full of noise, the endless chatter, catching up with your cousins which you hadn’t seen in ages, and men cheering at the current football game. It was so noisy and chaotic which was stressing you out.

But still, there was something comforting about seeing those familiar faces. Your aunties laughing out loud echoing from the kitchen, your uncle's bad jokes that somehow got worse every year, the kids running around and toddler crying the brain out.

Family gatherings were never your thing. Too many questions, too much noise, and way too many relatives. You just don't have a choice but to obey your mother since it only happens once a year. Everyone minding their own business. It was almost funny, though, how everyone acted like nothing ever happened. Just last year, there was that massive fight over your Grandpa’s inheritance and the land rights. You thought your family would never be the same again.

But here we were, gathered like old times—those heated arguments maybe forgotten. This is what families like. Everyone was busy bragging about their new cars, job promotions, or perfectly curated family vacations.

You were doing a decent job of blending into the background, sipping your martini and pretending to care as your aunt went on about her new Victoria’s Secret bag that definitely looked fake.

It was fake, but you weren’t rude enough to point it out. You just kept nodding, trying your best to look impressed.

“So, do you have a boyfriend yet?” Your auntie suddenly asked. Wine glass in hand, eyes sparkling with nosy curiosity. “Anyone special in your life?”

But of course, it wouldn't be a family gathering without that question.

You forced a polite smile, which lead to an awkward laugh the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Your auntie's release a collective gasp, followed by the inevitable assumption. You wanna roll your eyes.

Not surprised… are they asking you because you’re the only adult in the family who still hasn’t brought a boyfriend this year? Just like every other year. Meanwhile, your cousins are busy introducing their partners to the family—even the one who’s still in high school. And there you are… all alone.

“You know, Y/n, your cousin Emily is already married and has a two-year-old son. She’s doing so well! You really should think about settling down, sweetheart. You’re not getting any younger, and it’s harder to have kids when you’re older.”

Ah, yes. Emily—the family’s golden child. Same age as you, but somehow light-years ahead in the game of life, according to everyone else. Married, a kid, probably a dog too, for good measure. It’s like she checked off every box on the ‘Perfect Life’ checklist, and here you are alone while everyone assuming you where still trying to find a pen.

You'd force a smile, nod along, and pretend like it didn’t bother you. But inside? You was screaming. If only they knew.

You were doing your best to avoid another round of those questions when your cousin tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, Y/n” he whispered, glancing around while a plate food in his hand. “Someone’s looking for you outside.”

You blinked. “Who?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some lady. But, uh… she looks like someone important. She was kinda scary too..”

That made you pause. Someone important? You racked your brain, trying to think of who would show up here, of all places. But with no other choice, you set your martini down and asked to leave. As you made your way to the front door, a strange feeling settled in your chest.

And then you stepped outside the gate.

You froze.

There, standing by her sleek black car, was her.

Ambessa Medarda.

Your girlfriend.

She wore a sharp red and black suit, tailored to perfection, exuding power with every inch of her posture. The soft evening light glinted off her gold earrings, and her confident stance made it impossible to look anywhere else. Your heart did this weird little lurch, and your chest tightened with a mix of excitement and full-blown panic.

Because what the hell was she doing here?

Behind her—not far away—was another black car, more like an convoy. And there you saw Ricktus, Ambessa’s head security. He glanced in your direction, giving a slight bow when your eyes met. You returned a small smile before starting to walk toward Ambessa.

You barely had time to process before Ambessa large build crossed the distance between you, her hand sliding behind your neck as she pulled you in for a kiss—right there, in the open, in front of your parents house. Your brain screamed at you to stop her, to do something, but your body? Yeah, it had other plans. You melted into the kiss, your nerves buzzing under your skin, and when she finally pulled back, you were left breathless, trying to collect your thoughts.

“Ambessa,”You whispered, glancing nervously over your shoulder to make sure no one had seen. Thank goodness.. you didn't have a front yard party. “What… what are you doing here?”

Ambessa smiled, that infuriatingly calm, self-assured smile that always made you weak in the knees. “I missed you. little one ”

You blinked. “It’s been barely two weeks.”

“Too long,” Ambessa said without missing a beat, seriously? How can she be so clingy and possesive at the same time. Which was kinda cute to be honest. “So, I came to see you. little one. Why? You don’t look happy. I was hoping you’d jump at me out of pure rejoice.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding in your chest. You would have jumped at her—hell, you would’ve run into her arms if she weren’t standing right in front of your parents’ house, of all places. The timing couldn’t have been worse. But God, seeing her again stirred something deep inside you. Yes, it been just two weeks but it felt like forever.

“I—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you just stared at her, taking in the way she stood there like she owned the whole damn world, that familiar smirk playing on her lips, the glint of mischief in her eyes. You missed her. More than you’d let yourself admit.

Ambessa raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, her presence overwhelming as always. “What’s the matter, dear? Cat got your tongue?” she teased, her voice a low, velvety whisper that made your skin prickle. She glanced at the house behind you, then back at your face, reading you like an open book. “Ah… I see.” Her grin widened. “Didn’t realize you’d be home home.”

You shot her a look, trying to keep your cool, but it was impossible with her standing so close, with that look in her eyes.

“I missed you,” you finally blurted out, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Ambessa’s smirk softened, just a hint, and for a fleeting second, something warmer flickered in her gaze. But it was gone just as quickly as it came, replaced by that same cocky confidence.

“I know,” she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I always know.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the chest, but before you could even process it, she stepped closer, her hand brushing your arm, her touch sending a jolt through your entire body.

“So,” she murmured, her voice low and dangerous, “Are you going to invite me in, or do I have to stand out here all day while your parents wonder who the hell their daughter’s been dreaming about?”

You blinked. Your eyes slowly widened as your stomach flipped. Reality snapped back into focus. This was bad.Very bad. How can you two flirting in this situation.

“Bess, you can’t just… show up like this,” you hissed, lowering your voice. “This isn’t the right time.”

This wasn’t at all how you pictured the family reunion going. They can't meet Ambessa. Not now.

She raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “Why not?”

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat. “Because my parents don’t even know I have a lover. They’ve known me as single for the past five years. Let alone a woman who’s…”

Ambessa’s gaze locked onto yours, sharp and unwaverin like daring you “Continue your words, little one.”

You bit your lip, your cheeks warming as you dropped your eyes to the ground. You didn’t want to offend her.

“W-who’s… well, twice my age.”

Ambessa didn’t flinch. Not even a flicker of surprise crossed her face. Like she knew it was coming along. The gap—had always been the issue people latched onto. You told yourself you didn’t care what they thought. But sometimes… sometimes it stung.

But not Ambessa.

She just tilted her head, eyes sharp and unwavering, that usual confidence. “Then are you embarrassed?”

Your eyes widened, and you snapped your gaze up to meet hers, a frown pulling at your lips. Is that what she think of you? “Of course not! Don’t even think about it that way, Bess. You’re—” Your voice began to cracked, the emotion bubbling up before you could stop it. You were having a hard time sinking all of this. It was too sudden.

“You’re one of the greatest things that’s ever happened to me. I’m proud to be yours. Every time i'm with you i feel so whole and I'm not letting you go cause your mine. I’d stand on the highest rooftop and shout it to the whole damn world if I had to. I’d tell everyone you’re my girlfriend, that you mean everything to me—”

You didn’t even realize the tears had started falling until Ambessa’s thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping them away with surprising gentleness. That small gesture broke something in you—the floodgates opened, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

You hated when she thought like that. Like she wasn’t important to you. Like you didn’t value your relationship just because of that damn age gap everyone kept pointing out.

You didn’t want her to ever feel that way.

Ambessa didn’t say a word. She just pulled you into her arms, strong and steady, like nothing in the world could touch you when you were with her. Being wrapped in her embrace was your safe haven.

Her hand cradled the back of your head, and you felt her breath warm against your temple “Shh… Forgive me.. Let them talk. Let them think whatever the hell they want. You’re mine. And that’s all that matters.”

“I just…” you gasped between sobs, clinging to her suit. God! You just ruined her expensive suit. “I don’t care what they say, but it—it gets to me sometimes. Like we’re wrong. But we’re not. We’re not, right?”

Ambessa pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her eyes were fierce, unwavering, like they always were, but there was something softer beneath the surface now—a tenderness she rarely showed.

“We are never wrong,” she said, her voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. “Let them talk. Let them think whatever the hell they want. They don’t know us. They don’t know you.” She leaned in, her forehead resting gently against yours, her breath warm and steady. “And I don’t give a damn about anything but this—you and me. That’s all that matters.”

Her words wrapped around you, and for the first time, you felt the tension ease from your chest. You let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly, you buried your face against her chest, clutching her like she was the only solid thing in the world.

“I don’t care what they say,” you whispered through the tears. “I just… I love you so much, Bess.” voice raw but sure. “I love you so much.”

A rare, genuine smile tugged at Ambessa's lips—one of those smiles she only ever gave you. She pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes.

“I know you do,” she murmured, her thumb brushing away the last of your tears. “And I love you more than all their words combined. They can’t touch what we have. I wouldn't let them. They have to get to me first”

A small smile tugged at your lips. You slowly wiped your tears before gently pulling away from her embrace.

“You know no one can get past you,” you chuckled, wrapping your arms around her waist and looking up into her eyes.

Who would even dare to challenge a figure like her—unless they had a death wish or wanted to live through hell itself.

A cocky smile graced Ambessa’s lips. “Precisely, little one.”

“I’m sorry for being so emotional,” you whispered, your voice still shaky. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed… It’s just—they’re so important to me. My family—they’re not exactly…” you trailed off, searching for the right word. Ready? Accepting? Prepared for the force of nature that is you? None of it felt right.

''i know.. that's why it’s time they found out.”

You stared at her. “Bess…i know but they’ll flip out. They’re not exactly… open-minded about this kind of thing. ”

Her gaze softened just a fraction, but there was still steel underneath. “I’m not here to hide. And neither are you.”

You ran a hand through your hair, heart pounding like it was trying to break free from your chest. “ My parents are a little homophobic. They’ll freak out.”

Ambessa stepped closer, her voice low but firm. “Then let them.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, you knew Ambessa wasn’t going to back down. She never did. And maybe, just maybe, a part of you didn’t want her to.

But that didn’t make this any less terrifying.

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face, her touch surprisingly gentle. “I’m not leaving,” she whispered. “It’s time.”

You blinked at her, trying to gauge if she was really serious. “Bess… it’s just a family thing. You’d be bored.” one last convencing.

She raised an eyebrow, that signature smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “ You look so adorable with your puppy eyes. But it will not work this time. I think it’s time I met your family.''

You let out a shaky breath, your nerves coiling tighter with every second. Is there anything in this world this woman was afraid off? But as you looked into her eyes—steady, unwavering, hers—you knew there was no talking her out of this.

God help. This was happening.

You knew a moment like this would come. You just didn’t expect it to be today.

Ambessa’s sudden appearance—like she’d just pop out of thin air—sent your heart into overdrive. She always had a knack for catching you off guard, but this? This felt different. You weren’t prepared. You hadn’t braced yourself for the surge of tension crackling in the air between you.

And the worst part? The way she looked.

Standing there like she owned the damn place, dressed to perfection, like every single detail had been planned to the last thread. It made you wonder—had she planned this? You knew Ambessa had been eager to meet your parents. You did. But you always found a way to shift the topic..

Is that why she showed up today? But God—the way that outfit hugged her frame, you couldn’t help but ogle. It was distracting she look so smoking hot and gorgeous. And the subtle gleam in her eye? It told you she was fully aware of the effect she had on you.

Your palms felt clammy, your pulse thrumming in your ears. But as your eyes flicked down to your own outfit, a small wave of relief washed over you. Thank God you’d put some effort into how you looked today. If you’d been caught in something sloppy, standing next to her, you would’ve crumbled right there on the spot.

But still… even dressed your best, Ambessa had a way of making everyone else fade into the background. And you couldn’t help but wonder—how the hell were you supposed to keep your cool standing beside her?

“A-alright,” you whispered, your voice barely steady. “Let’s do this.”

[twola]

I have one simple request, getting back from a successful mission with Arthur , reader and Arthur are all excited and happy about the job and can’t wait to get their hands on each other with reader trying to discreetly suck him off behind a wagon at camp. Or something along those lines, I’m a sucker for keeping that man quiet when others are near. Work your magic girl!

Uh. *checks notes*

Filthy. I hope you like filthy.

Success

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

“Reckon that’s a winning combination,” you laugh, swinging down from your horse and tying its reins to the hitching post. 

Arthur swings down from his horse as well, grunting in agreement, patting his mare’s flank before he follows you deeper into the camp, past the folks cleaning up their dinner, breaking into their first (or fourth) drink of the night—Dutch’s gramophone lilts in the background.

As the two of you walk closer to the table where the contribution box is set out, Arthur opens his satchel to pull out the ill-gotten gains.

“Course, like anyone would believe a pretty little thing like you could rob a man blind.” Arthur places the overflowing jewelry bag into the camp’s money chest, but not before nicking a pair of earrings that he knew would look good on you. 

“Are you being facetious, Mister Morgan?” You smile overly sweetly at him and move quickly ahead of him, walking backward toward your destination of his wagon.

“Reckon I don't have the brains to be so, Miss.”

“What did you tell that man that he was so damn excited about getting in a room with me?” You continue slyly, playing with the ends of your hair in a flirtatious manner.

“Told him ain't nothing ever been sweeter than your mouth on my cock.” Arthur rumbles lowly, his tone teasing.

Oh, it was one of those nights.

You push his shoulder. Once. Twice. You know you could never move the mountain of muscle that he is. But he allows it, letting you push him backward until he smacks against the side of his wagon. He smirks as you press yourself against him and he eagerly meets you as you lean up to kiss him. 

What he doesn’t expect is those warm little hands of yours deftly unfastening his gunbelt and immediately working at his pants.

“What are you doin-” he harshly whispers and immediately shuts up as you wind your hand through his hastily opened buttons and encircle his cock.

“Shit-” he hisses, leaning back against the wagon, watching you draw out his engorged cock from his pants and stroke it gently, teasingly.

“Can you be quiet for me, cowboy? Can you hold yourself together as I suck you off?”

Arthur smashes his hat onto his head to block his vision as you sink to your knees, biting his lower lip.

“Look at me, Arthur Morgan,” you whisper before kissing his shaft, your nose tickled by the wiry curls on his pelvis.

He looks down at you, hand coming off his hat, his other arm braced against his wagon.

Loudly swallowing, he looks around for anyone who would be able to see. The rest of the gang were mulling about- only steps away, 

“Watch me, dearest.” You smile, sickly sweet, before your tongue darts out and licks a warm, wet stripe from base to head.

He whines, whines, trying to keep quiet. Arthur’s breath comes out in hurried pants as you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. You look up at him again, bright-eyed as you lap at the sensitive skin of his member.

“Fuck, honey, I -” he grits his teeth as you lick again, the tip of your tongue probing against his slit, tasting the first bitter, salty drips of his arousal.

You frown up at him, hand wrapped around his base, and pull away, “You want to be caught? Be quiet.”

His jaw immediately clamps shut as he nods dumbly, following your order. Arthur cannot help but to spread his legs further, his spurs jingling, as his head passes into your mouth. 

“Hah-”  he wheezes, watching you slide your mouth further down his shaft. Each inch of him disappearing into the warm, wet cavern.

“Oh, Jesus-”  he throws his head back against the wagon, his hat falling to the ground, as the very tip of him hits the back of your throat and begins to arch downward as your nose presses against his pelvis. He knows he’s leaking like a dripping faucet, blinking up to the stars, breathing out through his nose loudly like a bull to stud.

Your mouth is perfect - wet and warm and your tongue presses against the underside of his cock insistently. You make a small noise around him and he looks down at you. His entire cock is in your mouth, prodding the back of your throat, and you blink up at him with doe eyes.

He’s a goner, even before you hollow your cheeks and suck.

Arthur barely has enough time for his hands to find your head, holding you still as you groan, and with one half-aborted thrust, he comes, hot and sticky down your throat. You gag a little, and he realizes he’s choking you, and his hands move down to your shoulders, gently pushing you back.

You gasp, coughing a little as his cock leaves your mouth, bobbing slightly in front of your face. For a moment, a pearly string of saliva and spend is suspended between your lower lip and the head of his cock. He grits his teeth again, fighting off the moan that he wants to let loose into the night air.

The string breaks as a large drip of pearly spend escapes his cock, falling to your chin.

You blink away tears as you look up at him, gasping for breath, his spend bright on your skin in the moonlight.

“Oh honey, here-” he’s wincing as he tucks his sensitive cock back into his pants before stooping over to take your shoulders and help you up.

You press your hands against his chest to steady yourself.

Arthur’s hand leaves your shoulder and his thumb wipes slowly across your chin, collecting that last drip of spend.

You grab his wrist, preventing him from moving, as you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking off the last drop of spend from him as he gazes upon you dumbfounded.

You let go of his thumb and suddenly he’s crashing into you, his arms thrown around your body, crushing you to him, his lips insistent against yours, his tongue pressing into your mouth. He kisses you like he needs your love to breathe.

You melt into his embrace, kissing him back with equal fervor. He swings you around to change places, with you leaning against his wagon, the boxes of bullets inside clinging as he pushes you against it.

“Christ alive-” he grits between kisses.

“If I ain’t-” Arthur’s hand paws at your rear and you gasp. “The luckiest man-” Your skirts are drawn up.

“West of the Lanaheechee-” Your bloomers puddle around your boots. You bury your head into his shoulder as you gasp, his fingers zeroing between your legs with a practiced ease.

“Look at my hand, honey.” Arthur teases as you squeeze your eyes shut, your knees shaking as his other arm wraps around your waist, keeping you upright.

You heed him though, looking down between you and grabbing at your skirt, lifting the fabric enough so that you can see his hand cupping the entirety of your cunt, where just the smallest tuft of dark hair is visible where his palm ends. You suck in another breath as his middle finger parts your folds and presses against your opening.

Arthur is looking down at you with a confident hunger as the first part of his finger slides into your cunt. Your eyes squeeze shut as your hands clench at his strong trigger finger pushing behind the first, both sliding into your body.

He crooks those fingers and a cry escapes you. His other hand covers your mouth and he shushes you, lowering his head to yours as he whispers lowly,  “You want to be caught? Be quiet.”

Your eyes widen as you nod your head, but he doesn’t remove his hand from your mouth, instead leaning in and taking your earlobe between his teeth as he starts his ministrations in your cunt again.

His hand muffles your sounds as he begins to thrust those fingers roughly. His tongue traces up the helix of your ear before he harshly whispers into it.

“You may play the whore but ain’t no man ever gonna touch you but me. Ain’t no man ever gonna make you come, right honey?”

You nod vigorously, about to trip over that precipice.

“Good girl, now come for me.” Arthur orders, pressing his thumb hard against that bead of nerves above your cunt and curling his two fingers inside.

Your knees shake as your eyes squeeze shut, moaning into his hand as you obey, a small gush of your arousal coating his fingers and dripping down his knuckles.

Arthur slowly removes his fingers from your body, and your skirts drop as his other hand uncovers your mouth. You pant, leaning heavily against the wagon. He looms over you, and as he also breathes heavily, a smile cracks across his weathered face.

“Reckon any more and we’re really gonna get caught.” He nuzzles his forehead against yours.

You smile, laughing softly, “Any more and neither of us will be able to stand up.”

Arthur snorts as he holds out his hand for you to take and hold on to. “C’mon, let’s show our faces a bit before disappearing again.”

[fangbanger3000]

feel free to read this long explanation stating the same thing i stated in my post:

ai detectors are only reliable to a point.

as we knew. as has been stated from the start. if you decide that the results presented to you regarding the two fics are coincidences with no tethers to reality, slay. as you were.

if you decide to cherrypick what parts of the posts in question you consider while choosing to ignore factors such as insanely high word counts, little to zero typos/mistakes across 700k+ words, and admission of guilt, i fear you and i are at an impasse.

as for how much harm and irreparable damage my post specifically has caused as well and in regard to my own vicious cruelty, let me point out what hasn't happened:

the author of tsats has not been "run off the internet". last i heard, she is alive, active, and well on her private x account, is still actively working on her fic, and has many followers and readers who still support her and are excited for the republishing of her fic.

no one has been harassed on my accord. from the beginning, i have discouraged harassment and witch hunting because that wasn't what my post was about.

i made that post with less than 100 followers. it has less than 1k notes. i understand that this might feel grand to you if this sphere is the only fandom space you frequent, but i assure you this scandal in the dragon age community is not as big as you think it is. the fandom will be just fine.

i have made no personal attacks against anyone because, respectfully, why the fuck would i give a shit. my intention was to spread awareness, and i have. if my tone has been impolite in response to people telling me i should commit suicide and harassing my friends, i don't apologise. the behaviours springing from that post were unacceptable and entirely undeserved.

i have made no posts 'across several platforms'. i believe i tweeted about it once without mentioning titles or names before i made the callout post, and that tweet along with my account has since then been deleted. mind you, i had less than ten followers on there.

now, let's assess what has happened:

the author of tsats pulled all her work from ao3 and privated her x account

i did go about my post the wrong way. i was careless and i made a lot of people nervous. this is something i have addressed and apologised for because it's true and it was never my intention. however, durgeapologist did reach out to the author first to no avail whatsoever, and a lot of people are attacking them anyway.

my friends and i have been harassed relentlessly both by people who were loud and proud about it and by anonymous mice behind burner accounts.

i have had my fucking address sent to me twice

i have been told almost every single day that i should harm myself on a broad spectrum of severity

a person who did nothing but share my post to x was dogpiled, harassed, and was attacked by anti-semitic slurs and spammed with swastikas, and was then accused of orchestrating harassment despite strongly discouraging it.

people have spoken to and about me in a manner i have not once reciprocated. i've been called the most horrible person alive, a dumb slut, a bully, various synonyms for genitals, fangfuckface (personal favourite i'll be honest), a tranny, a jealous bitch, a cranky bitch, bitch featuring whatever adjective fits the mood that day, and many more. i have been misgendered and accused of wanting to start a fandom war (which, by the way, makes me hurl a little in light of the current political climate. there are people that are dying, kim. don't call online slap-fighting a "war").

the writer called out in durgeapologist's post is a moderator on the solasmancers subreddit and is actively erasing and banning any trace of our arguments against her. she has deleted our comments, locked the post sharing the callout, and has made a long comment slandering the entire dreadrook server. after banning us from the entire subreddit so we couldn't speak out against her, of course.

i'm not pointing fingers at sib. i understand wanting to defend what you care about as well as your friends, and i truly don't mind that you disagree with my post. your opinion is valid and the world is plenty wide for both of us to co-exist peacefully.

but i will not have words put in my mouth or be painted as a bully with some strange, harmful scheme to 'divide the fandom', because it isn't true. all the other things being said about me are a matter of opinion, i guess, but claiming that my friends and i have acted with malice at any point in this is false.

now, please don't make me make another post about this mess. i stopped talking about it and moved on, and so should you.

We Need to Talk About AI Detectors

Over the past few weeks there have been two posts in particular that have come out against two authors in the community that have resulted in near witch hunts for one, and essentially driving the other off the internet from all the bullying and hate received. These posts were related to the potential use of AI in fanfiction, as well as using supposed “AI Detectors” to support their claims. With the help of friends, we have been able to look into the AI claims that were made against both The Silence and The Song and Ir Abelas, Da’ean.

We were curious about how and why these posts were being flagged with high levels of “AI Probability” when the authors have been adamant (either in chats or in public) that they have never used generative AI for their work. So we did the most logical thing, put on our detective caps, and rolled up our sleeves. We would like to note that we do not wish to have philosophical discussions, we wish to have transparency and honesty.

Spoilers: We found inaccuracies almost IMMEDIATELY.

Firstly, we looked into the weakness of AI detectors, and read through online posts where people voiced their frustrations with detectors. One thing that we noticed was that the common denominator was that well written articles were being flagged as “Likely AI”, particularly with Originality, and that the solution was to either “dumb them down” or to remove punctuation such as commas, which immediately improved the score, tipping the scale to “Likely Original”.

For the second step, we ran some of our own works through Originality AI checker–works that were made prior to the creation of AI and generative AI. However, after punctuation was removed, this magically changed from 50% likelihood of AI to 100% original work. Again, these works were from before the dawn of generative AI, and therefore could not have been created by AI. For fun, we even ran the first chapter of Harry Potter through it–a novel that is objectively without AI, which still did not come out with results stating 100% original work. We then removed almost all of the punctuation from it, and it actually improved the originality score by 3% (from 95% to 98%).

Personal fic, before and after:

Next step, we ran our own scans through Originality and Quillbot.This includes full chapters of Ir Abelas, Da’ean, both with and without punctuation in Originality, and excerpts in Quillbot. Interestingly, the excerpts in Quillbot pinged as “0% likely AI”, and that is without any removal of punctuation. Across the board, the removal of punctuation from the chapters caused an immediate and dramatic increase in the score, from “100% likely AI” to “96% likely Original”. We have found that the more grammatically correct a work was, the more likely it was to be flagged as “AI”, much like how the freelance writers were complaining about.

Chapter 1 of Ir Abelas, before and after:

Chapter 1 through Quillbot:

Chapter 45 of Ir Abelas, before and after:

Chapter 45 without commas or double hyphens:

Chapter 45 through Quillbot:

Even the Ai detection websites caution against this:

To Durgeapologist, Fangbanger3000, and friends: If you do actually read this, I hope you realize that your posts have done more harm than good to the community. You are correct that AI is a potential threat to creative spaces, but you have gone about addressing it in the worst possible way. By creating multiple posts across platforms with the intent of creating a negative perspective toward certain authors and their fictions rather than the use of AI as a whole—not to mention the counter-accusations with personal attacks rather than focusing on the issue at hand—you are creating an environment that fosters negativity, bullying, and division—none of which are directions to take a sustainable and healthy community. AI Detection is the Wild West right now. There is no way to determine if something written is AI through the use of algorithms, and it requires the use of human intervention and careful comparison to previous works to be within a certain level of certainty that it is AI. Our hope is that in the future, you will take time, step back, and consider all possible sides before causing a stir in the community like this.

[kakao-lovey]

۶ৎ Haircare priority No. 1: preventing damage

Preventing damage to your scalp and hair follicles is unarguably the most essential part of haircare, and is often overlooked by the very same people that use endless expensive treatments. It does not matter how good your genes are, or how many products you use: if you damage your hair, it will look dull, straw-like, frizzy and discoloured. Note: unfortunately, some of us have bad hair genes, and it can predispose you to dryness, split-ends or oiliness that affects the look NO MATTER how good you take care of it. But, taking measures to protect your hair will almost always make it look much better in the long run, if not perfect. Note No. 2: I am as white as white gets. Wasabi is too spicy for me. My experienced is based on blonde 1b hair, and although these tips are backed by science, some might vary in applicability.

────୨ৎ────

What not to do

Heat-styling: lovies, if you heat-style your hair, PLEASE try out heatless curls (If you're curling) or AT LEAST use a high-quality heat protectant spray. Heat damage breaks down proteins in the cortex of your hair, which leads to easy breaking, splitting and stiffness. It can also separate the outer cuticle from your hair strand, and that's what makes heat-damaged hair so dry and dull.

Using the hot air to blow-dry: Same principle. Additionally, if you blow-dry until your hair is 100% dry, that means you are actually sucking the moisture out of it.

Air-drying: your hair can absorb up to 30% of it's weight in water, and the longer it has to hold in that water, the more damage there is to the cortex.

Excessive sun exposure: you can get a sunburn on your scalp, actually. Plus, the heat thing comes up again.

Sulphate shampoos: here's the deal. MOST people are OK with sulphate shampoos, and the supposed damage is widely exaggerated, IF you wash your hair as often as you should. If you have to wash every day (For whatever reason), opt for sulphate-free, and use a clarifying shampoo weekly. It is incredibly difficult to find a sulphate-free shampoo that actually works on oily hair, so if your regular one works, stick with it.

Washing too frequently: everyone's hair is different, but every one or two days is excessive. I have the oiliest hair on Earth, but I wash once or twice a week, and I'm fine because my scalp got used to not having to overcompensate for loss of normal sebum.

Scalp-picking: I am guilty as charged. I don't think I even need to explain why this is bad.

Sleeping with wet hair: put your food down, lovies, because your scalp can actually grow mould in those warm, wet conditions. On top of that, you're adding friction to the already sensitive hair strands that are drenched with water.

Friction: last one, I promise. Rubbing your hair harshly with your towel is about the worst thing you can do, and that hair turban thing they do at spas has to come second.

────୨ৎ──── What you should do

Blow-dry your hair with cool air: most hairdryers have this setting. The cooler, the better (Even though it takes longer).

Styling with heatless curls

Squeezing and patting your hair dry gently with a cotton towel (Or old shirt, works just as well)

Wearing a high-duty hair sunscreen or a hat when outside for long periods of time: better yet, choose a hat with a silk lining to minimise friction.

Non-sulphate, fragrance-free shampoos: hard to come by, but real gold for your hair.

Washing only a handful of times a week

Getting a fidget toy to keep your hands busy and away from your scalp: I recommend infinity cubes or stress balls.

Using a silk scarf under your religious hair covering, if you wear one

────୨ৎ────

If you take any of these tips to heart, please let me know by interacting with this post so I can make more haircare-related content. Between high-school and chronic illness, I don't have an overload of free time, but I always make it work!

[legalmente-loca]

They Were Real

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: You sacrificed your life for humanity twice. Days later you find yourself in an unknown room and with your memory lost. You must not overlook any details since it could be a lie. The most important thing that occupies the center of your head is to discover who he is... Who is that man named Dean Winchester.

They Were Real Masterlist

Word Count: 3,074

Tags/Warnings: fainting, memory or not?

Part 1: Memories Created

“This is too much information for me.” You commented as you stretched in the chair.

“I'm sorry, it must be hard not to remember anything.” Said the one named Sammy.

“Well, if no one reminds you it's not so bad.”

“Let me check you?” Castiel uttered as he stood up and walked towards you.

He tried to touch your forehead with two fingers, but as a reflex you moved away. The room fell into an awkward silence.

“I just... I want to see how much you've healed.”

You looked at Charlie for confirmation and she nodded her head. You sighed and sat back in the seat. Castiel's hands were cold, like a dead man's. You had felt the skin of a dead man before.

“You're healing well.” He said as he focused his gaze on you, his eyes half-closed and shining blue under the light.

“How could it be that I died and then resurrected to... Die again?” You asked in a confused tone.

According to what they had told you, you had died a while ago while stopping the apocalypse and then, as if by magic, you revived. And now, having died fighting Lucifer and managing to kill him, you had met death again, only to be revived once more. Castiel swore that wasn't heaven's work, so you supposed you should believe him.

“That's something no one can find the answer to yet.” Bobby said. “I'm sorry, kid.”

“I don't even understand how that happened. I mean… Why sacrifice myself twice?”

“‘Cause you’re human.” Sam replied. “Therefore, you have a heart.”

“I have it to live, but I don't remember using it to feel.” You sighed.

That was the truth. After your father died, your life had become one of pure survival, always thinking about yourself, never about those around you. That is until you met Charlie, just a girl like you.

Dean, meanwhile, watched you from the other side of the table, his jaw tense hearing you talk that way and his gaze penetrating.

Castiel walked away and you returned your attention to the projection of images. You continued looking at the photos. It was strange to see you there and not remember anything from those days. But you think the strangest thing was seeing you happy.

You moved on to the next photo where you were with Dean. You were laughing while he looked at you in a way... Unknown to you.

“Can you remember anything from that day?” Bobby asked when he noticed that you had left that photograph.

“No.” You denied.

You glanced at Dean and he looked away. There was something this photograph was hiding.

“Yes, of course.” Crowley said with amusement. If it were up to you you would have already stabbed him, but it seemed like he was friendly. According to what they told you.

You shook your head and moved on to the next one. You looked at a blonde man, blue eyes. It was not one of those who was there.

“Who is he?” You asked as you pointed to the photograph projected on the wall.

They exchanged glances with each other, emptiness in them.

“You want me to remember everything, but you hide things from me?” You asked with annoyance.

“He's…” Bobby sighed. “It's your…”

“He's my what?”

“He is your ex-husband.”

You were perplexed by that revelation. That was what it radiated.

Love... Or at least that's what you thought.

You looked at Charlie and she confirmed it with her look. You ran a hand over your face, realizing that too much had happened in all these years. Things you never thought you would have.

The bunker door was heard.

“Sister, we called someone.” Charlie said, standing up.

“¿Whom?”

“To your ex-husband.”

Dean's fist clenched.

“Did you warn him?”

“I told John that she was recovered.”

“Who’s John?” You asked.

“John Smith, little sister. She pointed to the photograph. “Your man of steel. Come.”

Charlie held your hand and pulled you along. Bobby was already in charge of opening the door.

“What are you hiding from me?”

"What are you taking about? I don’t hide anything.” Shee laughed nervously.

“Charlie, I know you.”

She sighed and stopped.

“Okay, but don't be mad at me for hiding it from you until now.” He took a deep breath. “You have two daughters, little sister.”

She kept walking, and if she wasn't holding your hand, you wouldn't have followed her. Everything was happening too fast. The information about your life that had been developing for years… You were discovering it in less than a day.

“It's them.” Bobby said as he opened the door, surprise in his voice.

“Them?” You looked at Charlie and she pointed to a man and two girls of different ages who were covered by Bobby's body. “Easy, girl.” She rested a hand on your shoulder. “You know you have Hermione Granger with you.”

You rolled your eyes and nodded your head. Bobby stepped aside and those unknown people entered, going down the stairs. You approached them.

“John?” You asked doubtfully.

He smiled at you. He had a nice smile, white teeth and his eyes became small with the action.

“Mommy!��� One of the girls exclaimed.

"You’re fine!"

John let go of both girls' hands when he noticed that they wanted to get closer to you. They hugged your legs and you looked at Charlie. She smiled at you and walked over to John. You kneel so you can hug them better.

“I'm glad you're okay again, mommy.”

“Yeah. Things haven’t been the same without you.”

“But I feel better now… Girls.”

It felt awkward and humiliating not to remember their names. You had forgotten the names of your own daughters...

“How are you feeling, Chloe?” Sam asked as he stroked a little girl's head.

“Very well, uncle Sam. Better now that mommy recovered.”

“And you, Alex?” She asked the other girl.

“Fine, uncle Sam.”

You looked at Sam and thanked him with your eyes, having noticed what he had done. He rested a hand on your shoulder before approaching John.

Dean walked past you and Chloe walked up to him.

“Uncle Dean!”

“Hey, little one.” He picked her up and gave her a few spins in the air. “I haven't seen you here in a long time.”

Dean put her down and held her hand as he approached Alex.

“Don't even think that I have forgotten about you, sweetheart.” He extended his fist, which Alex collided with his own. “I have to go, would you take care of your mommy for me?”

Both girls nodded and Dean gave you a quick glance before placing him between Charlie and Sam. Even though they were whispering, you could see anger in all three of them.

“I called you because I thought you would come alone.” Charlie reproached him.

“You didn't tell me to do it.”

“Oh, sure, the little boy needs to be told everything.” Dean scoffed.

“She needs to rest.” Sam contributed. “She doesn’t need to know she have two daughters so quickly. We don't know what their reaction may be.”

“I didn't know, okay?”

Dean snorted as a smirk spread across his face.

“You never know anything. You didn’t even bother to come right away.”

“Charlie told me several minutes later and I had to pick up our daughters from school.” John defended himself.

“No, no, don't blame Charlie for your ineptitude.” Dean took a step forward. “If you had been here, maybe she wouldn't have attacked anyone.

“They just told me that she doesn't remember me either.” John took another step forward. “What would have been the difference between Sam and me?”

“In that, if we had to choose… You would be the least important.”

You noticed that things were going to get worse, so you apologized to the girls and approached them.

“What's going on?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Everything is fine, little sister.”

“Really? Since when does ‘everything’s fine’ mean about to kill someone?” You pointed between John and Dean. “You should calm down, both of you.”

Dean shook his head and walked away, bumping his shoulder into yours. Your attention fell on John, who had been watching you this entire time.

“Hey, darlin’.” He smiled.

“Hi…”

“You look well. Healthy.”

“Thank you.”

You didn't know how to make a conversation with a man you knew, but with whom you had no memory.

“We will leave you two alone.” Sam commented before tugging on Charlie's arm.

“They told me you have memories from years ago.”

“The only ones.”

“I guess that doesn’t involve me.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It’s alright.” He shrugged, dismissing it. “It's not your fault.”

You took a deep breath and lowered your head. Suddenly, the room seemed to have gone completely silent. You looked up again to speak to John, but he couldn't be there anymore.

You looked everywhere, but there was not a single person and the entire room was dark. It didn't seem to be the same place. There were no walls and the floor seemed to have suffered a small flood.

You walked slowly, perhaps waiting for something to happen. It didn't seem like the case, until you noticed a light behind you. You turned your head and saw... You.

You curiously approached your other self and noticed that she was cleaning a gun.

“I know that that weapon has never gotten dirty.”

You turned around as you heard Dean's voice behind you.

Damn… This is a memory…

You didn't respond and continued with your work.

“Alright...”

He sat next to you and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He had a machete in his hands.

“I was going to give you the reward for that work we did, but I see that you don't feel like chatting.”

You sighed and stretched to put your gun on the table.

“A deal is a deal.” You said.

“And here is your part.”

He extended the machete to you and you grabbed it. You looked it up and down, examining it.

“May I ask why you wanted my machete of all things?”

“Only if I can ask you why you wanted my knife.”

“Touché.”

You remained silent, each one in its own world. Sometimes you watched him out of the corner of your eye. You had to admit that you were starting to like that man.

In one of those glances, he saw you watching him and smiled at you. You smiled back, knowing that if it had been anyone else, you would have looked away immediately.

Why was it different with him?

You opened your eyes, feeling dizzy. You were in a different room than the one at the beginning. It felt more… Yours.

You looked to your right and saw Dean reading a book. His concentrated gaze being slightly covered by his eyelashes.

His expressions seemed a little strange to you while he was reading it. He smiled for something fun, but sometimes he did it in a nostalgic way... But he always smiled. You looked at the cover: 'What you should know about psychics'.

You tried to sit up, making a few moans at the pain in your head. He then noticed that you had woken up and quickly placed the book on the dresser next to him.

“Charlie sent me to take care of you. I’ll let her know you woke up.”

He was about to head out when you got out of bed.

“It would be best if you stayed there.”

You ignored him and walked around the place, looking for the machete you saw in your… Memory?

“What are you doing?” He asked.

You knelt down to look under the bed.

“But what the hell are you looking for?”

“A machete.” You responded, still searching.

“A machete?” He repeated with confusion.

“Yeah.”

You stood up when you noticed it wasn't there. You started searching through the other furniture drawers.

“Will you rummage the entire room?”

“If necessary, yes.”

Suddenly, you stopped, remembering that the same person who handed you that machete is the same person who was behind you. You turned your head and looked at him.

“You know what I'm talking about. Where is it?”

He frowned in confusion.

“The machete.” You repeated as you approached him. “You gave it to me.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” He crossed his arms, muscles contracting beneath his shirt.

“It's a lie.”

“Look,” He said patiently. “Really, I don't know which machete you're referring to.”

“It was your machete. You gave it to me because of the deal we made.”

He stayed in place, his face surprised.

“Did you have a memory?”

“So it did happen…” You murmured, your tone hopeful.

He paced the room with his eyes on the floor while he seemed to think.

“No, it didn't happen.”

"What are you taking about?"

“I have never given you a machete.”

You stayed in place, going over his words.

'I have never given you a machete.'

You didn't understand. So, what did you see?

You felt yourself lose your balance, but he caught you before you fell.

“Here.”

He carried you over to the bed and helped you sit on it. He sat next to you, holding your hand and stroking your back.

“What exactly did you see?” He asked slowly.

You hesitated to tell him. What would he gain from that if it is a false memory?

“I saw…” You didn’t know where to start. “I saw myself on a sofa. And you…” You sorted the words before saying them. “You approached me.”

Dean listened to every word carefully.

“You gave me a machete.” You looked at him. “You said it was the reward for a deal we had made.”

He looked into your eyes without blinking. You think neither of them did.

“That happened… Right?”

He sighed and looked down.

“No.” He denied.

He let go of your hand and stood up.

“I’ll let Charlie know you’re awake.” He muttered, changing the subject as he left the room.

His attitude took you by surprise. Now he was distant with you.

You remembered the book that was on the dresser and turned your gaze to it. You stood closer and looked at it carefully, going over the title again.

'What you should know about psychics.'

Why would Dean be reading it? He wasn't someone who needed to know more about psychics. His work was already done by an expert in them.

You reached your hand towards the book, and as you were about to grab it, you heard Dean speak to you, causing you to jump.

“I almost forgot.”

He landed in front of you and grabbed the book. He was very close to you. He looked at you and you watched him curiously. His breathing became heavier and you could hear his heart beating faster. You brought your hand towards his chest carefully. You felt hypnotized.

What was… All this?

Suddenly he shook his head and looked away. You moved your hand away from him, returning to reality. He didn't say anything and you watched him leave.

This was all very confusing for you. Had the vision you had been a memory or had your mind played tricks on you? It felt too real to be fake. But then… Why did he deny it?

You walked barefoot to the door, ready to find your memories. You heard voices coming from the room and you looked out.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“John says she seemed to freeze for a couple of seconds. After that, she fell, without any explanation.” Bobby clarified.

“Would that be a bad thing?” Crowley asked.

“I doubt a faint ever means anything good.”

“Good no…” Castiel commented. “Normal, maybe. She felt overwhelmed by so much information received.”

“What do we have to do?” Bobby asked.

“It would be best to let the memories come alone.”

“What if they never come?”

“She has temporary amnesia. They will come.”

“What if they don't come?” Sam repeated.

Castiel sighed, not knowing how to respond.

“Hey, why all those faces?” Crowley spoke. “We are talking about a hunter who almost managed to kill me on several occasions.” He adjusted his tie. “No one and nothing stops that woman, sadly. You of all people should know.” He pointed to Charlie.

“I guess.” The pointed one whispered.

“Dean,” Sam caught his attention. “Did she say something to you when she woke up?”

He snorted and looked at each person present before answering.

“Shee told me he had a vision before she fainted.”

Everyone straightened up at that confession.

“Why didn't you tell us before?”

“Didn't think it was important.”

“She could have recovered her first memory and you don't think it's important?”

“You can calm down about that, Hulk. It’s not a memory.” He whispered.

“What?”

“It's not a memory.” He repeated louder.

“What did she see?”

Dean sighed and readjusted himself in his seat, uncomfortable with so much insistence.

“She talked about a machete I gave her.”

"That's all?"

"That's how it is."

“And are you sure that never happened?”

“Oh, well, who knows, maybe I have amnesia too and don't remember my own memories.” He said sarcastically.

The room fell silent.

“Is that something bad?” Charlie asked Castiel.

“Maybe…”

“Oh, please.” Dean exclaimed. “Guys, it was nothing.”

“She fainted.”

“I thought we said it was because of stupid John.”

“Dean is right.” Castiel pointed out. “It doesn't have to mean something bad.”

“See it?”

“But we have to watch her.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe she is unintentionally creating false memories. She may feel confused by this and it could make her condition worse.”

“She's perfectly fine!” Dean yelled as he slammed the table and jumped up.

Everyone in the room was extremely surprised by that action. Dean looked at them all, realizing what he had done.

He cleared his throat.

“I'm sorry.”

He almost jogged towards the exit.

“It seems that ‘green eyes’ is a little anxious.” Crowley commented.

“We are all shocked by everything that is happening, Crowley.”

“But no one is like that.”

“It seems to affect him more than all of us, including John.”

“He'll get over it.” Charlie brushed it off as he approached your room.

You closed the door and took a few steps back.

You just wanted it all to end. You wanted your memories back. You wanted to understand everything that was happening...

Loca's notes: It seems like your own mind is playing with you. Or is it someone else? Tell me what you think.

Dean Winchester Series/Mini Series

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Masterlist

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[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

Ed-Coded Mountain Goats Songs Part 1

The other day I was thinking about how many songs by the Mountain Goats remind me of Our Flag Means Death's very own Edward Teach, and I decided to challenge myself to assign a Mountain Goats song to each episode Ed appears in. It's going to be a series of posts because for some of them I have, uhhhh, a lot to say.

S1E3 - A Gentleman Pirate

The song that I've chosen for this episode is Animal Mask, from the album Beat the Champ aka "the one about wrestling." The album deals with themes of identity, masks, showmanship, and knowing when to quit. So it's a pretty good Ed album already.

I chose this song for a few reasons, the first being that I just really love it. I referenced it in my wedding vows—I think it's one of the most romantic Mountain Goats songs (serious goats fans out there, yes, I know that the song is about JD's kid being born, shhhh, that's not important, it's romantic TO ME).

The song is about a professional wrestler fighting through a battle royale to protect someone they don't really know. This is how they meet.

Eighteen man steel cage free for all Through the noise I hear you call for help You can't protect yourself Frog mask and yellow cape So desperate to escape I came to you, hands wrapped in adhesive tape That was when we were young and green In the dawning hours of our team

Sound familiar?

The second verse reveals that the narrator has been paying attention to the person in the frog mask and yellow cape. From a distance they saw someone interesting, someone new.

Seen you backstage once or twice Animal gimmick pops real nice Elbow sweep and tiger dance Little extra fighter's chance

Ed is interested in Stede before he even meets him. Finally, here is someone doing something different. Ed is bored, stifled, lonely.

"Hold on", I cried, "I'll be right there" Pull your mask down through your hair They won't see you Not until you want them to

John Darnielle has said a lot about this song but one thing that really stuck with me is this: "This is a song about how, from the moment of your birth, you don't owe anybody a look at your true face." (source) I think about this in relation to masking—for good or for bad it's something people learn in order to protect themselves. And if it's true that you don't owe anybody a look at your true face, it makes it all the more beautiful when you decide that you want someone to see your true face, that you feel safe enough with them to try.

Ed and Stede are both people who struggle with identity. Who they are vs who they present to others vs who they want to be. They're both guarded in very different ways. Stede's ostentatious coats and bravado hides a deep well of insecurity—he is simply convinced that he is not enough. Ed has spent so much time being Blackbeard that he isn't sure who he is outside of that. But when they're together, all of that turmoil melts away. Ed and Stede get to be Ed and Stede. They just... see each other. They open up. And that doesn't magically resolve their identity issues, or make them brilliant at communicating. They struggle to turn their implicit understanding of each other into the kind of healthy communication their relationship needs, because neither of them have any practice with that. But that safe space between the two of them gives them both a place to figure things out.

"What's it like to be in love?"

"It feels... easy. It's just like breathing. He understands my idiosyncrasies, finds them charming even. We expose each other to new things, new ideas. And we laugh a lot. We just pass the time so well. I'd call those things love."

That's what is romantic to me about this song, I think, the sense of safety. You are safe to be vulnerable with me, because I will not reveal you unless you want to be revealed. We may be surrounded by a battlefield but you and me? We're a team.

And for Ed and Stede, this is the early days. The dawning hours of their team. While Stede's "Well I was gut-stabbed..." story intro in later episodes is a funny bit, it's clear that Stede looks back on this moment as a warm and happy one. I think Ed does as well.

Which brings us to the chorus of the song:

Some things you will remember Some things stay sweet forever

[arrimorr]

Funny how I really have no choice in what my brain decides to fixate on. I made peace with the fact that I have a need to rewatch Over the garden wall in one way or another twice a year EVERY YEAR since 2014, bc it's a hella good show, but currently I'm considering going in for my 11th rewatch of Pacific rim and the thing is I thought that this movie was kinda shit the first time I saw it. I love it dearly but how the hell did that happen

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Okay so my Animal Crossing phase is hitting me again so reblog this post with up to three F/Os(can be of any kind, doesn't have to be exclusively romantic!) And I'll come into you're inbox and based off vibes alone say which Animal Crossing villager your F/O(s) remind me of!

[Currently Closed]

[solivagantingrebel]

The commenting situation in this fandom is really fucking atrocious, huh.

[hirazuki]

Me, episode 1: Oh, a relatable protag! And a relatable female protag, at that. Sweet! That never happens.

Me, a few episodes in: Wait, the protag really is going to be my character? The one I identify with the most? Seriously? It's not going to be a strange, at least somewhat sinister, seemingly hostile male side character? It's gonna be a female character and the protagonist? That's insane, that literally never happens... what's the catch??

Me, more than halfway through the season: ... huh, I guess Maomao really is it. Okay, then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Me to myself, after episodes 22/23:

[c6jpg]

mixed feelings because on one hand damn the mad lads did it on the other hand this is barely gonna do shit in the grand scheme of things with how slowly resin regenerates

[myimaginationplain]

imagine: professor utonium mentoring dexter vs professor membrane mentoring mandark

[secondpersonpoetry]

hi!!!!! haven’t been able to get any coherent thoughts down yet but i just wanted to let you know i Have been rotating your post in my mind…….was thinking about it in the back of multiple ubers today…..rain pattering against the window…………like, oh my goodness! YOUR MIND!!!!!!!!!!!! wishing you well. hope you have a safe, healthy, and happy new year!! 💗

"enough music", dorianne laux

[n0heart]

.

[adhdvane]

i finished making my gear build for inkbrush yesterday.... i think i found my favorite weapon to play.... is this how you become a brush main

[anonymusbosch]

[edit to blank post: she's home now and doing better]