#also sorry i moved this to a different post

[minswriting]

Different Kinds of Treats - Roommate Spencer Reid x Reader

About: Spencer bakes brownies and walks in on reader masturbating and ends up maturbating to the thought of her. Later on, they end up fucking.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, mentions of addiction but nothing in detail, season 4 Spencer, porn without plot, Spencer bakes to relieve stress, roommate Spencer, masturbation (f & m), walking in on someone masturbating, protected sex (reader on birth control), no condoms, p in v, desperate and needy sex, whiny reader and whiny spencer, creampies. not proofread because I am sick and have a cold. we are raw dogging life man

Word Count: 2.3k

Baking was one of Spencer’s favorite things to do. It began about a year and a half ago when Spencer had decided to get clean. Any time he felt a craving, he’d look up a recipe. Any time he felt the biggest urge, he’d bake something. And slowly, that baking turned into a genuine passion for him where it was his favorite way to decompress after a long case.

And he adored how you were always so excited whenever he baked something.

You moved in about a year ago. Amidst Spencer’s withdrawals, he also felt as though his apartment was too lonely, too cold and that he needed someone to fill the space. That way, whenever he came home from a hard and long case, he could at least not be completely alone. He had posted an ad in the local newspaper and you were the first to respond. You were both the same age, you had a lovely career here in DC, he had Penelope do an extensive background check on you and you were completely clean. It all worked out, honestly. It also helped that you were very pretty but Spencer never allowed himself to admit that out loud.

The apartment was filled with a nice chocolatey aroma as Spencer had just finished baking brownies. He had gotten back from a long case last night and needed to decompress as he finally had a day off. It was a Saturday so he knew you didn’t have to work. Spencer waited for the brownies to cool before cutting a piece for you. He grabbed one for himself as well and made his way to your bedroom. He figured you were napping as it was two in the afternoon and you were still in bed. So what greater way to be woken up than by having brownies in your face?

When Spencer made his way to your bedroom, he gently and carefully opened the door, making sure not to drop the brownies. He had expected to be met with your sleeping form, slow breathing with your lips parted. Instead, he was met with your legs spread open with your fingers buried inside of you. Though he did get one part right. Your lips were indeed parted. Both pairs actually.

Spencer’s eyes widened at the sight. He stood there in shock, holding the brownies. The sight of you fucking yourself with your fingers made all the blood from Spencer’s head rush to his groin. You hadn’t even realized Spencer opened your door, too caught up in your own pleasure.

Your eyes opened and as you saw Spencer, you gasped out his name, “Spencer,” while trying to cover yourself up. Spencer gasped and quickly turned around.

“I-I’m so sorry,” He choked out as he was about to walk away before realizing he needed to close your door. He grabbed the door knob, closing your door with a slam as he rushed to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. He still had the brownies in his hand. He placed them on top of his dresser before letting out an embarrassed groan. He hadn’t meant to walk in on you masturbating. His IQ of 167 was slashed as his brain was full of just images of you.

All he could think about was how your pussy was glistening, your fingers covered in your juices. Your chest had been moving up and down from the pleasure. The way you let out the tiniest whimpers. God, Spencer was aching. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. But he just couldn’t help himself.

“Damn it,” Spencer said to himself in frustration. “Your head is turning into a damn potato,” he said all while looking down at his cock as it strained in his pants.

He quickly undid his pants, standing in front of his dresser. He tugged his pants and boxers down, revealing his hard cock. Precum was already on the tip, showing just how much the whole scene turned him on. He didn’t bother teasing himself, feeling far too desperate to prolong the experience. He gripped his cock with his left hand, stroking himself hard and fast.

“O-oh fuck,” He moaned, unable to help the noise from escaping his lips as he thought about you. It really shouldn’t have affected him this much. Masturbation was a normal part of the human body and therefore, you were more than allowed to give yourself release. And yet, Spencer couldn’t help but wish it were him that could make you feel so good.

He thought about how you would taste. How it would feel to bury his head between your thighs and feel you cum on his tongue. Or how your walls would feel clenching on his fingers. And don’t even get him started on how you would feel on his cock. He wanted to fuck you so badly, to make you cum from his cock would literally be a dream.

Spencer whimpered, thumbing the tip of his cock as he stroked himself. His other hand gripped the edge of his dresser, eyes pinched shut as he thought about how much he wanted you and all the ways he would have you. He wanted to make you feel so good. And with a choked moan of your name, Spencer came in his hand so hard. He was grateful that he was holding onto the dresser as he most definitely would’ve fallen from how intense his orgasm was.

When he came down from his high, Spencer took a deep breath, opening his eyes as he looked down at himself. His cum had landed on the dresser, himself, and his hand. He felt guilty at getting off at you. You were his roommate, one of his closest friends. And yet, he couldn’t deny how hot you were.

Later in the day, after Spencer had cleaned up and spent some time alone in his room, he went out to the living room to sit on the couch and read a book. At least he tried to read it. It was hard when his mind was still so consumed with you.

You had finally emerged from your room, dressed in a simple day dress as you walked into the living room. Spencer tried to keep his gaze on his book, turning the page as he did so, acting as though walking in on you hadn’t affected him as much as it did. That was until you stood in front of him, looking down at him. “Did it turn you on?” You asked suddenly, confronting the awkward moment from earlier.

“Did what?” Spencer replied, keeping his voice neutral as he tried to keep his gaze on his book.

“Walking in on me.” You said, grabbing the book out of Spencer’s hands and tossing it to the side. “Did it turn you on?”

Spencer frowned before looking at you and as he did, all he could think about was how beautiful you looked lying on your pillows with your fingers deep inside of you. He felt his cock hardening in his pants again. “I-“ Spencer interrupted himself to swallow, unsure of what to say.

“Because I heard you,” You exclaimed, tilting your head. You moved to take a seat on Spencer’s lap, straddling his legs. “Moaning as you got yourself off. Did you like watching me finger myself?”

Spencer didn’t know what to say or how to react. You were there, on his lap, asking him a question. His brain had completely turned into mush. He quite literally couldn’t think. Instead, he just leaned up and captured your lips with his. You responded immediately, kissing him with hunger and need.

Neither of you were gentle or slow with it. The moment your lips met, clothes came off quickly after. You had unbuttoned Spencer’s shirt, throwing it somewhere in the living room while Spencer had lifted your dress, tossing it behind him. The inherent need to just feel one another was driving both of you. You only lifted yourself off of Spencer’s lap to take his pants and boxers off only to move back onto his lap.

Spencer put his hands onto your breasts, massaging the flesh as he leaned in to kiss your neck. The soft noise you made when his lips touched your skin was quite literally his reason to live in this moment. Your hands were in his hair, entangling your fingers with his curls. Spencer sucked on your pulse point, causing you to gasp.

“Need to feel you,” You breathed out, moving Spencer’s head with your hands as you leaned in to kiss him again. You could feel his cock pressing against your thigh, just waiting to slip inside of you. You didn’t care much for the foreplay at the moment as all you wanted was his cock.

“W-what about a condom?” Spencer murmured, pulling away from the kiss to look at you with his beautiful brown eyes. “A-and are you sure you’re ready?”

You licked your lips, nodding your head. “I’m on the pill. And I think earlier shows that I don’t need to prepare anymore.” You let out a small giggle, causing Spencer to let out a tiny giggle as well.

“If you’re sure,” Spencer said softly, moving a hand to caress your cheek. “I-I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” You reassured, giving Spencer a soft smile. The way he worried made your heart swell. Your hands were still in his hair. “I promise.”

Spencer kissed your lips once more, this time more softly. The reality of the situation was unspoken feelings that neither of you had ever been willing to admit. Not even right now, as you sit on his lap. But those feelings could be addressed another time.

You took one of your hands and moved in between the two of you, grabbing Spencer’s cock. You gave it an experimental tug, causing Spencer to gasp against your lips. He pulled away from the kiss to look up at you, moving his hands to your hips. You guided his cock to your entrance, slowly easing yourself onto his length. You both let out moans, basking in the pleasure. When you sat completely on his length, you stayed still for just a moment, adjusting to his size.

“You’re so wet,” Spencer breathed out, lips parted and eyes hooded with lust. His breathing was a bit heavier than before, showing just how much this was affecting him.

“You’re so big,” you replied, keeping yourself still. You relished in being filled. The fact that you had been dreaming about this for so long and now it was finally happening dawned on you. And after a few moments, you began to move.

To say it was heavenly was an understatement. Spencer had never felt this good before and the fact that it was with you was making things ten times better. He didn’t shy away from making noises, letting out whimpers as you slowly bounced on his cock. His fingers dug into your hips, holding onto you tightly. “Oh my god,” he moaned, throwing his head back in pleasure.

Your hands rested on Spencer’s shoulders, stabilizing yourself as you watched Spencer’s reaction. Your own moans filling your ears along with his. “You feel so good,” you moaned. The way his cock moved inside of you was so much better than you could’ve ever imagined. Your pace quickened, causing you both to whine in pleasure.

“Y-you’re so tight,” Spencer stuttered, licking his lips as he looked at you. His chocolatey eyes were blown out, his skin flushed from the heat of the situation, his hair was messy from your fingers. God, he looked so sinful. He moved one of his hands to your left tit, massaging the flesh with his palm.

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered, closing your eyes as you rode his cock.

Spencer let out his own whimper, hearing his name leave your lips as you got off on his cock was going to be ingrained in him forever. “Fuck,” he moaned.

The both of you were needy, grabbing onto one another and kissing each other while you moved your hips. Spencer started meeting your movements with his own thrusts, causing you both to moan louder. The way his cock started hitting your g-spot dead on made you grasp at Spencer to stabilize yourself. “Oh my-oh fuck,” you whined, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I’m so close,” he moaned, fucking into you. The pace was hard and quick, showing the desperation between the two of you.

“M-me too,” you stuttered as the two of you looked at one another.

It didn’t take long until you were cumming. Your thighs were shaking, you were whining Spencer’s name in a mantra. He fucked you through your orgasm before cumming inside of you with a shout of your name. He stopped moving as he came, holding you still as he filled you up with his cum. The two of you were breathing heavily, basking in the post-orgasmic air.

And when you both came down from it, Spencer pulled out of you, causing his cum to drip onto his lap and onto the cushion of the couch. But neither of you cared at that moment. Silence overcame the two of you as the room was filled with the sounds of your breathing.

After about a few minutes of silence, you spoke, “So,” you said breathily. “What about those brownies?”

Spencer was unable to help the laugh that escaped him as he caressed your cheek. “I guess we can have some brownies.”

Brownies were always delicious after having a mind blowing orgasm.

[esotericbluntbaby]

indelible

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: it's been a full year since you and hamzah broke up, causing you to go silent towards your whole friend group. after rekindling at a grocery store, mandy invites you to a party she's hosting. you go, noticing a familiar set of eyes staring at you throughout the night.

mentions: reader heavily loves pickles, angst and yearning (obvi), she/her pronouns, slight argument, ex!hamzah (who will be back for a lottttt of different fics), sfw!

blood orange is so freaking good i was listening to blood orange and got the idea for this fic <3

--

"martin, is that..?"

you turned around in the aisles messily stacked with assorted jars of pickles and olives, revealing a guy and a girl of your past: the faces behind the whisper. you gazed at the couple in front of you with a certain whimsical, yet surprised stare. martin and mandy were the two people who, at one point, helped toronto feel like home after moving there from the states. meeting mandy at a frozen yogurt stand after she complimented your outfit with welcoming radiance, you soon met martin and became apart of their small, yet comfortable and familiar group.

it was only until you met hamzah that they remained the people who created warmth for you to take in. you and hamzah had a specific energy, tying your souls together as if they were forever meant to be intertwined. chemistry erupted from the first interaction between the two of you; a nostalgic, childlike sense of happiness emerged between you guys similar to high school football games and puppy love. with hamzah, you were never scared. in fact, risk and excitement amplified itself within you every time you took your friendship with him a step further.

it wasn't surprising when hamzah decided he'd kiss you in front of martin, mandy, claire, and chase while at martin and mandy's abode. it also wasn't surprising when you two popped out as a couple a day or two later. the relationship your friends observed was one they rooted for; you knew in that moment that none of your friends would pity you at your wedding, which was new to you after trials and errors of different relationships with different guys.

it was definitely not a fairytale of your childhood dreams with him, actually, the complete opposite. you enjoyed the fact that your days weren't always fast-paced and full of moments that felt like it should be posted on some social media to get a thousand likes. sometimes, your days were slow. your days were filled with laundry baskets piled to the top and a race to see who gets to sort clothes faster. your days were filled with morning breath and uncomfortable, yet cozy positions in bed with hamzah. your days had occasional arguments, yet, they were always solved within a day or two. this was the man you wanted to marry.

however, you've always had the mindset of fairy tales always containing an ending to them, happy or not. you saw him less and less as the relationship went on, as his channel with martin was slowly but surely taking off the mainstream media. he began to hermit inside of his office, sometimes even sleeping there for days, almost as if the job was a ball and chain tied to his leg. yet, he also didn't want it off of him no matter how many times he's found the key. he would spend days without seeing you, seemingly by choice, leaving you worried and lonely. it was after a full two years and three months that you decided to end things with him for the sake of your own mental health, sanity, and wellness.

it was hard at first; honestly, you wanted to curl into a ball and hide away from everyone. martin and mandy were supportive, as they noticed all the times hamzah ditched you to edit or to film or to email. yet, each time you saw their faces, all you could see was him. so, slowly, "yeah, you can come over later," turned into "i'll see if i have plans," which eventually and gradually turned into, "sorry, i'm busy." you felt guilty, but you needed to erase him from your mind, like white paint to a canvas, in order to fully heal. it was never going to be a permanent thing, yet it's also been a full year since you last spoke to them. this was probably one of the most awkward things you could've ever encountered and on this fateful thursday night, you did.

"oh, hi," you softly greeted, rubbing the back of your neck with your free hand that wasn't holding the grocery basket.

mandy's gaze was as surprised as yours was, "wow, it's been ages."

"yeah, y'know... i've just been busy..."

"are you doing anything tonight?"

the guilt of being gone for so long finally decided to show up, chasing after your stream of consciousness like a dog chasing a bone.

"no, no i'm not."

--

without fully realizing until you were sitting in their dining room chair, you were now at martin and mandy's amicable apartment. a cup of tea accompanied your hands; for warmth or for comfort, you weren't really sure. it's been small talk for the past twenty minutes since you've arrived. guilt, as it always does, was still biting at your chest cavity like a parasite. so, to ease it away from you, you decided to speak about the elephant in the room.

"look, martin, mandy, i'm really sorry i haven't spoken to you guys in ages and just stopped responding. honestly, i guess i kinda saw hamzah every single time i saw you two. it hurt too much and i couldn't take it anymore."

mandy held your hand in her palm, "no, i get it-"

"are we pushing you too far by, like, bringing you to our apartment right after seeing us again without it being planned?" martin asked, genuine worry laced in his vocal infliction.

"no, no, definitely not. i've healed, already," you sipped your tea, "i was planning on contacting you guys soon. i guess soon ended up being, y'know, today."

"how have you been? or, like, have you healed from you and hamzah" mandy asked hesitantly; almost as if the mere mention of his name would've broken you like fine china being dropped.

"i've, uh, i've been alright- i guess, sometimes, i still think about him. it's inevitable. the mere thought of him chases after me to this day. it's weird, like, as soon as i got rid of his stuff, i felt okay; i felt fine and i didn't cry, but then there are days where i stumble upon an ad for fantastic mr. fox and i end up crying for weeks straight. i'm not really sure, y'know, when it'll end. hopefully, soon."

mandy's grip on your hand tightened as martin listened to each word you said, processing every emotion and memory held onto your words.

"would you ever get back together with him?" martin asked, as mandy lightly slapped his shoulder, "sorry, was that too blunt? or, like- fuck- sorry you don't have to answer tha-"

"maybe."

mandy's eyebrows raised inquisitively, "really?"

you placed your cup of tea down and started fidgeting with your hands, "i mean, i've always believed in that whole fate thing. destiny can't be changed and that type of shit. i don't hate him. i guess i- what's the word- resent.. him..? i couldn't hate him if i tried. i guess what i'm saying is if the universe decided to bring us back together, i'd probably be scared, but i also wouldn't oppose it completely. i don't know; we were young and i didn't know how to communicate and he didn't know how to balance. it's obvious that it wouldn't work out, then. i don't know about now."

"you seem to have thought about this a lot, to the point where you can talk about it in that way," mandy mentioned.

"so, you would give him another shot?" martin added.

you thought for a moment, "it depends on how that shot happens."

looking at the clock, you realized that it was now almost 10 pm. though you didn't have work or plans tomorrow, you didn't want to overstay your visit and leech onto them and their house. after all, the three of you just reconnected after a full year of absence and silence.

"i didn't even realize it was 10; i should probably get going, now," you got up and scooted in your chair.

mandy reached out to give you a hug, to which you returned, "wait, me and martin are having a get-together tomorrow. it's not a rager, but it's also not, like, lame, i guess. come. chase and claire are visiting and they've been asking about you lately too. everyone misses you."

the whole day was filled of taking chances and playing with the fate you previously thought you were aware of. what's one more game of odds?

"sure. i'll be there."

--

the house was dark, yet also thoughtfully lit with ambient lighting. shades of oranges and blues lit everyone's skin with a contrasting hue, reminiscent of a sunset on the ocean. there wasn't too many people there; if anything, you knew a good majority of them. yet, the thought of why you knew them, or the thought of hamzah's many introductions to get you used to his crowd, made your heart hurt a little. you arrived late, letting yourself in since mandy, nor martin weren't answering their phones. greeting a couple of familiar faces on your way in, you finally found your way to martin and mandy, speaking to chase and claire.

things felt normal for the first time in a long time. you were not alone, in fact, you were with the people who created what "home" was, in the first place. for being in a room with so many people who helped create the best atmosphere for you to thrive in, you still felt lonely. you didn't know it was possible to feel this conflicted; how could you feel lonely when you know you aren't alone?

suddenly, hamzah walked through the kitchen doors to the dining table you were sat at. a red crewneck and baggy, black jeans adorned his body, as well as the black sambas that were years and years old. the beanie that adorned his head, revealing tiny, black curls peeking out of it, complimented the silver chain on his necklace; you recognized it. it was yours.

"i could not find the cups, mandy, where are the cu-"

his eyes locked onto yours as if your pupils were magnets destined to be pulled together. you, then, saw what you witnessed when you first fell in love with him: nostalgia. childlike wonder. puppy love. the table went silent, watching this encounter unfold. everyone's eyes were widened in shock. in that moment, you couldn't hear the music, nor the people around you speaking, nor the drinks being poured or dog barking outside. the only thing you were focused on was the boy in front of you. frozen in space, you hoped you wouldn't have to be the first to speak. yet, you also never were the first one to speak.

"can we talk?"

you nodded, not knowing where this conversation was going to be headed.

--

you were both outside on martin and mandy's rooftop. you mentioned to him that you find it easier to talk when gazing at the stars and being in his presence, though, you were also dating at the time. you wondered if he remembered or if this was a coincidence. currently, you were sat in silence, waiting for him to break it.

"that wasn't the first time i saw you, tonight."

your gaze turned from the stars of the sky to the ones reflected in his irises, "what?"

"this whole night, i've been staring at the door. i wasn't really sure who i was waiting for, but i just felt the need to. now that you're here, i know now. i saw you when you entered and had a mini-panic attack in the kitchen. i don't even know what to say to you now that we're out here."

it became silent again, as you didn't respond.

he continued, "i miss you. i don't think there's a single day that went by where i don't fuck myself up for losing you. fuck, baby, i miss everything about you."

"you do?"

"there's so many texts i wrote you, but i just never sent them. i almost send, like, three of them a week."

"what do they have in them?"

"y'know, updates, my life, asking how you are, apologizing for being a total fucking ass."

"you were a total fucking ass," you teased, laughing ever-so-slightly, "it's okay. it's obvious you've changed and most likely grew."

he laughed as well before his face morphed into something more serious, "if you let me, i'll spend the rest of my life making everything i did up to you."

"and remind me what you did?"

"i didn't treat you the way that i was supposed to- the way you deserve. i'm sorry, i promise i'll fix things," he grabbed your cheek gently and nudged your head towards him, "please, baby, let me fix things. i'll beg, if i have to."

you sighed, "hamzah, i'm scared."

hamzah took out his phone and put in his password.

"my birthday? you haven't changed your password from my birthday in a full year?"

"yeah, uh, i just didn't want to."

he clicked on his notes app and gave you the phone, then turned to the sky and gazed at the different twinkling lights up above.

"what is this?" you asked.

"i write you letters whenever i think about you so much to the point where it gets overwhelming.

you read the first note titled "1/19," which was a couple of days ago.

1/19

hey, baby. how are you? i miss you a lot. i went to the store today and i got the pickles you like. i don't even like pickles. or, i guess, now i do. ever since we ended things, i go to the store just to get a jar of the pickles you liked. i think every time i eat them it makes me think about that one time you forced me to try one and i literally almost threw up because of how disgusting they are. i think i just eat them because idk they make me think of you. i hope you're doing alright. i hope your studies are going good. you're graduating in, what, like a year? that's crazy. i hope i'll be able to be there with you. i'm sorry, for everything, again. i say this in every paragraph. i fucked up. i know that, but please, please let me fix it. i'll be a good boyfriend, i'll even be a good husband one day. i promise. i'll talk to you again soon.

by the end of the paragraph, you teared up. looking beside you at him, a worrisome look entered his face as he gazed ahead of him; a second chance is the most desirable thing to him. he doesn't care about money, or fame, or sex. he's been yearning for you.

you copied his move; your hand made its way to hamzah's cheek, nudging it slowly but surely towards you. the twinkle in his eyes held hope, as did yours as it mirrored him. you sat there, simply looking into each other's eyes and possibly each other's soul; there was no rush, there was only love. your lips made its way onto his, softly, for a mere second. you pulled away as his lips chased after yours, kissing once again with a certain firmness and desperation laced into it.

"i'm sorry again, baby," he admits as he pulls away, "please, please let me back into your life. i don't care how hard or how long i have to work for it; let me earn you back. i can't live without you."

you smiled one of the most genuine smiles you've had in ages, "i trust you, hamzah."

"is that a yes?"

"i dunno. what do you think, idiot?"

--

author's note

goodnight guys! <3

[apricoctopus]

Of course after my previous post on infernal fashion I decided to draw wing- and tail-friendly Helldusk armour. Because we all want to see Raphael in this armour.

After studying the references (1, 2) I realized, that the upper part has two layers: the outer, more textured layer with "fangs" (claws? bony thorns?) and the inner layer made of 5 plates. It also looks like it's made of some organic looking material with golden sutures, rather than metal.

I decided to go with this theory: that it's some magical metal or not metal at all, that can bend like very thick fabric, because it's the easiest way to put it on Raphael with his wings, tail and horns (they won't allow to put it over his head).

I really liked decor on the back on the original, so I decided to keep it in my version. The "spine" is not only decorative, but also helps to "stabilize" different elements, along with the belts around the tail. I feel like without them, with the amount of gaps for wings and tail, plates would move around too much.

I drew both layers and added some commentary, because these schemes may seem convoluted without it.

Anatomy and geometry may be a bit wonky but I believe you get the overall idea what devil-friendly Helldusk could look like. And sorry for the typos and all that, I may going insane because drawing all that was a challenge I was not prepared for.

[funnier-as-a-system]

Hello!?! So this is my second time ever sending an ask, so excuse if its poorly written</3

So, as far as i am aware, i'm not a system, i have system friends and i can see a clear difference between us, even if they are clearly not the same either.

Thing is, at times i have odd moments where, lets say, i'm deeply attached or for some reason i follow through with a character, and i look fan content. What usually happens is simple, i enjoy the content and move on! But theres been a few times i've had literal panics when something went on with these characters, lemme explain-

Scrolling down on ao3, as one does, i find a fic of my fave poly king, the boyfailure of the year! But the content of the desc for some reason freaked me out and i had a panic of sorts where i thought "that is not me, i wouldnt do that" and after an hour to calm down i had to pause 'cause it wouldnt stop?? And when i calmed down i had to double take what went on with my freakout, this has happend many times now with a lot of characters(?) I'm curious if thats even normal or not, given that, for all i know, i'm just a guy???

Also i have very especific memories to one particular character that arent canon?? But i am sure they happend?? I'm /gen with this one

I think i made this so long, sorry for that!! Have a nice day, the posts in here make me smile a lot, really! :3

-🐀

What you're describing sounds a lot like fictionfolk experiences – in particular, plural (fictive) or fictionkin experiences. Lots of fictives and fictionkin can relate to having memories that don't match their related source material (which are known as pseudomemories or exomemories), as well as having a visceral "I would not fucking do/say that" reaction to fanworks of their source. Although, I would say that "double take" feeling you describe much more often falls under fictive experiences. It's not impossible for this to be a fictionkin experience, of course (some posts on very strong kin shifts come to mind), I just see that sort of thing discussed more often in the plural community (however, I acknowledge that that may be because I'm more active in the plural community than any 'kin community). But regardless, I want to reiterate that what you're describing reminds me of the experiences of many fictionfolk.

I won't say anything for sure, but if you're certain you are not a system, then I'd encourage you to look around the fictionkin and extended fictionfolk communities and see if you relate to any of it. You don't have to take up any particular label, of course – you can still be and describe yourself as "just a guy" – I just think you'd probably be able to find a lot of folks who understand your experiences there.

[trustinsturniolos]

BOYFRIEND!MATT one shots !

a/n : sorry this took so long, i lost so much motivation in only two days despite the fact i’m always pretty motivated to write. also, i wrote this when i was bored—and obviously unmotivated— and tired, so please bear with the strange writing.

warnings : suggestive at the end , not proofread , think that’s it.

BOYFRIEND!MATT, who always wants to cuddle. If you’re in some place public with friends or alone, he’ll ask you to come over to his later and cuddle him all night long.

BOYFRIEND!MATT, who loves smothering you with warm sloppy kisses, even if it means tuning your makeup.

“Matt!” You complain irritatedly as Matt smugly lathers your face with multiple soft, yet firm, kisses as you attempt to finish your makeup, temporarily taking a break to wait for Matt to stop kissing you.

He places a few more gentle kisses on your cheek with a self satisfied grin growing on his face as he leans over from behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and moves his head into the crook of your neck, watching you in the mirror with his head slightly tilted to the side as you continue to finish your makeup.

BOYFRIEND!MATT, who finds it amusing when you try to (play) fight him, knowing there’s no chance you’d beat him when he’s got your arms tightly pinned above your head, lying with your back down on your warm, comfortable, soft bed as Matt hovers over your face with a smug, confident, superior grin displayed across it.

BOYFRIEND!MATT, who loves taking photos of the two of you and posting them on his Snapchat story.

Captioning the cute image that Matt adored of you pulling a funny face with your tongue slightly sticking out of your mouth ‘my silliest girl😋’ and tagging your user, he was quick to upload it onto his private story. Only a few people could see his story. Sure, he’d love to show you off and flaunt you off to the world, but you’d both agreed it’d be best not to tell his loyal fans, because of the few obsessive ones.

Once it’d posted, he looked up at you with a cheesy grin, to which you returned a slightly devious yet sweet smile as you took a break from rapidly sipping your delicious drink and set it beside you to focus on Matt.

BOYFRIEND!MATT, who loves helping you chose out clothes. Obviously, he loved your sense of style, but he especially loved when you’d ask for his opinions on clothes you liked. He’d always end up loving them too, but it for some reason just made him feel all warm and sweet inside.

His favourite thing though?

When you’re walking through the lingerie section. He couldn’t help but imagine you in all the different colours and styles of lingerie, forcing a tent to form in his trousers, to which he quickly tried to adjust and hide before you could turn around and show him a slightly slutty blue lingerie set.

You knew exactly how walking pat the lingerie section made him feel, and what it did to him.

You also knew the blue lingerie was his favourite.

[betterbemeta]

don't let the bad news (evil executive orders, play by play of obvious corrupt schemes, etc.) tire you out but here's the thing.

this is not the time to 'wait,' or 'hunker down' or 'take a break.'

I know that fact plays havoc with people who have anxiety, or have ADHD or experience mania, etc. It can be difficult for many people to handle 'urgency' without it feeling like

they are being screamed at maximum volume to have already done 'everything'

but also to do it right now

and also they're already a failure

and also they can fail worse or harder, etc. etc.

I understand these feelings. But we must navigate urgency now and fragility is unfortunately not an option. Increasingly 'breaking' doesn't mean another adult fixes it for you, it means 'swept into the trash.' I understand that many people need support to confront this reality, but accessing that support also takes work, unlike an algorithm it will never 'find you.' Not falling through the cracks is not always voluntary but we want to maximize the cases where it is.

And we can talk about how the removal of safety nets is a strategy to ensure as many people smash against the ground as possible. But not on this post.

The thing is, there is no material difference between the behavior that a violent ruling party wants us to do (stay put due to obedience) and the action that the 'freeze' reaction to danger wants us to do (stay put to conserve energy/endure pain).

Even if we frame it as 'needing a rest' or 'self-care,' every significant delay to critical tasks is still a delay that could have an impact on us. Moving forward is self care right now, and will be community care if we do it in groups.

It is the strategy of oppression to make moving at all feel so overwhelming that you believe you only have the strength to hide away as they do whatever they want.

Many people will relinquish their autonomy this way, sometimes even actively.

the creepy tradwife lifestyle is bait for overwhelmed women, that a Husband will take half of the artificially overwhelming responsibility of independence away from you, in exchange for being a robot that automates HIS independence. Which he believes he needs, if he can't afford to pay a servant!

The military benefits when poverty is un-survivable with dead ends, to-dos, shit jobs, waiting lists, especially for people who have been screwed over education, that giving yourself to a cult seems like a good deal. They house, feed, clothe you, they give you directions in a world that abandoned you! You can trade up 'get a job lazy poor' to 'god bless you for your service!' (don't ask veterans if they can eat that.)

But being overwhelmed can still cause you to give up autonomy passively. Especially if you are alone or feel alone.

You don't need to do everything all at once but make serious (incremental, sane, well-paced) goals to do things you may want to accomplish like

get your bank account or financial stuff sorted out,

apply for a passport,

change your name/get married/similar processes,

get on unemployment (may also require proof of weekly job applications depending on where you live),

go to the doctor,

renew your lease or move house,

whatever you need to do. This isn't an exhaustive list.

Pencil in your Saturdays and don't bail, is what I mean.

Make buddies and teams.

Start a group chat.

Whatever works.

As long as it does and you can hold proof of it. Not a 'I sent an email' or 'i left a message,' you MUST follow up. I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry ok. I know. You're ALREADY doing so many things, I know! Me too. I know it sounds like your parents or like "pull up your pants and clean your room!" or like someone's disappointed in you. But nobody is, or they shouldn't be. And this isn't about bootstraps: nobody will participate collectively if you don't. If you wait for there to be a puller upper group, there won't be one. you have to decide to do that thing tomorrow. Even if you're tired and did so many other things today. You have to tell your friends. I KNOW. I know.

these plans and actions will give you a 'tomorrow' and that is critical right now. It is the whole goal of those who oppose you to deny you that. To make them work for it, we have to also work for ourselves.

[thechaoticcheese]

EDIT: I was a dunce and posted the draft that I was working on - THIS HAS BEEN CORRECTED - YOU ARE NOW READING THE FULL THING I AM SO SORRY FOR THE MISSHAP

A Vampire Wheat Farmer(Ghoap) - Chapter 1 - Meeting the Vampire

Soap was making his way down the dirt path through all of the fields of wheat. He's never seen crops so well taken care of or bountiful. They were taller than he was used to, coming up to his chest and seeming to yield more grains than the usual plant. His blue eyes scanned the field before he spotted a tall figure at the end of one field, looking into the sea of wheat. From this angle, he couldn't tell if it was a scarecrow or a person, but when the hooded figure sharply turned their head towards the Scot, Soap found his answer.

He glanced around the field to see if he could figure out where to go to meet the person quickly approaching him, but decided to stay in place, unsure if he even should move. As the figure got closer, he saw their clothes more thoroughly. They were wearing a balaclava with a skull sewn into it, plastic, or some sort of other mesh he was sure. Or he hoped. After all, he was hoping to meet a bloody vampire. The person wore a grey hoodie and jeans, black gloves with bones were worn on his hands and black boots left light tracks in the ground. As he got close enough, Soap noted how the person’s skin was covered by black face paint, or something similar.

"What's your business?" His British accent was noticeable, Manchester perhaps, but it felt a bit faded, a bit different. It was slightly hypnotizing as Soap stared into the man's eyes. They were something else, being a dark brown with a circle of yellow around the pupil, a sign of being turned into a vampire.

"Yer da vampur I've ben hearin' 'bout!" Soap said excitedly, coming up more energetic than he expected as he took a few more paces closer to the man who quickly took quite a few steps back. The distance between the two grew faster than Soap could register.

"What's it to you?" He growled, voice deepening. If that didn't send a shiver and made Soap's heart skip a beat, he’d be lying. It also made him stop in his tracks.

"Oh! I uh, I'm John MacTavish. People call me Soap." He introduced himself with a big grin, holding out his hand to the mask figure. "I wanna study Vampires and help 'em be apar' of society an' not shunned."

The vampire gave a glance over the man's hand, trying to see if there was anything wrong with it. There wasn't though. It was just a normal human hand. Then he hesitantly approached and firmly shook it.

"Call me Ghost." He replied before quickly pulling his hand away. He circled the buff Scott, as if sizing up the male. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that Soap couldn't quite place. "Why they call you Soap?"

"Oh uh, was a kid tha' ate soap a lot... I-I've grown ou' of it! Don'ye worry!" Soap said, watching Ghost's quick movements. Dang, Vampire were quicker than humans. Part of him wondered if this was as fast as he could go.

"Why here?"

"Well... You're pretty easy to access. No one has seen yer face in... well millennia.. An' yew've ben said ta be a pretty good wheat farmer." Soap started to list off the reasons, he soon felt Ghost wrap his arms firmly around his chest, pulling him in close. His back pressed flush against the vampire’s chest. There was a look in his eyes that Soap couldn't quite read, though he didn't doubt that it was an act.

“And you’re alone. Humans shouldn’t be alone.” Ghost growled as his mask nuzzled against Soap’s neck. The Scot’s heart pounded in his ears, before he blurted out.

“Y-Ye ken ye can drink animals blood an’ survive… R-Right?” Soap stammered out. He hated that he was getting so flustered by a stranger that he just met. Though the nuzzling stopped before a low rumble that almost resembled a chuckle had left Ghost. He slowly let the human go before moving away.

“You’re interestin’.” Ghost commented. “I know. Usually humans freak out more. How many vampires have drinken your blood?”

“Uhhm… Not sure… I donate my blood ta places tha’ give it out ta those who need it due to their bodies rejectin’ animal blood.” Soap said, quickly gaining his composure despite his heart rushing in his ears. He bet Ghost could hear it too.

“Very thoughtful.” Ghost muttered before starting to walk further down the field, leaving Soap behind. He stopped and glanced back. “Ya comin’?”

“O-Oh! Y-Ya!” Soap said, surprised that Ghost was offering him to follow him to wherever he was about to leave the Scot. He jogged to catch up, pulling out a notepad and pen before looking at the masked vampire and smiling brightly, “Ye min’ if I ask a few questions?”

“Shoot.” Ghost responded, leading the human through acres of wheat fields.

“When d’ya turn?”

“Gotta be durin’ buildin’ Manchester.” Ghost replied, rubbing the fabric where his chin is, remembering the night he turned.

“Really! Ye help buil’’ Manchester?” Soap asked excitedly, scribbling it down.

“Yea. You’re listenin’ to an original Manchester accent… Albeit a lot faded.” Ghost said with a soft chuckle.

“Aye…” Soap agreed softly, despite not being alive at the time. “But weren’t it built by da Romans?”

“Yea. Was a soldier for ‘em.”

“So yer a Roman?”

“In a way, yeah.”

“Woahh.. But ye got bit here, so technically you’re British.” Soap glanced at Ghost, not realizing that they were approaching a pretty old looking building. It was built with wood that looked like it was replaced at least 100 years ago. A small stone wall was around it, the pebbles at the bottom suggest its age from the weather years before Soap could be even considered a construct. A stone chimney was awkwardly added to the side of one wall. There were windows with shutters on them, but they were latched shut.

“Wha’ever works for ya.” Ghost said with a shrug as he opened the wooden door, ducking inside. Soap was surprised that he even had to duck inside. Though once in, both could comfortably stand tall, though Ghost probably had about 6 inches above his head before he might run into something, like the lightbulb that had a metal covering. Though Ghost seemed to know the layout of his house as he quickly went to an old stove, hucking a few logs in before lighting it with a match and putting a kettle on with water.

“Tea?” Ghost offered, looking back at Soap who was awkwardly standing right in front of the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob as he was closing the door behind him, glancing around the home. It was like one big room, a small section for the kitchen to the left, in the middle was a table, to the right was a space for a king sized bed and a desk. Things felt a bit crowded, herbs being hung from a rack above the stove along with old pots and pans that seemed to have just been gathering dust.

“Oh uh, ya.” Soap responded, fully closing the door before awkwardly standing by the table. Soap’s eyes drew down to his feet, seeing an old goat skin rug on the ground beneath it, part of it going underneath the legs of the table. His blue eyes then looked to the bed. It had fur blankets on it as well.

“Gots lots’a furry 'tings in ‘ere.” He commented before Ghost pulled out an old chair that looked about ready to be replaced, gesturing for his guest to sit.

“Yeah. Got a few more recently… Mid 1900s I think.” Ghost replied. He seemed to want to talk, but yet, something was holding him back. Soap in the meantime had sat, writing stuff down and doing quick doodles of things he saw in the home as the water boiled. Ghost curiously looked over the Scot’s shoulder.

“Nice drawings.” He commented before going back to the stove.

“Oh er… Tanks.” Soap blushed once more. This vampire was smooth. A lot of them were, but he wasn’t expecting it from a recluse. He hadn’t mentally prepared to be wooed, intentionally or not, today.

“Wha’ made ye settle ‘ere?” Soap asked, trying to go back to researching the vampire.

“Mmm… Good place to have wheat fields.” Ghost hummed as he thought before responding nonchalantly. Soap wrote it down without a second thought.

“Did ya build ye house?”

“Yeah. Sown the fields too.”

“Interestin’...” Soap whispered softly, writing quicker than before. “Ye ever ‘ave a lover?”

“Why? Ya lookin’?” Ghost teased, watching as the Scot’s face soon turned a bright shade red, his mouth agape before trying to say something before the vampire chuckled and shook his head. “Pullin’ ya leg. Yeah… Once… In a way. Arranged. No feelin’ towards ‘er.”

Soap took in a sharp breath before nodding, writing down the answer.

“Keep track of yer kids after ye turned?” 

“... No.” The slightly warm tone that Ghost had previously suddenly turned cold. Soap tensed, he had hit a nerve.

“Oh… Sorry.” The Scot said softly, not writing down the answer and gripping his pen tighter.

“What made’ye stay over ‘ere?” Soap continued, clearing his throat.

“Next question.” Ghost’s voice remained gruff and unwelcoming.

“Uhh… ever… ‘ave… a dog?” Soap had tried to come up with a different question than his usual ones. The rest were about Ghost’s past, specifics. So, Soap decided to go a different way. Ghost paused at the question. The breath that the human was holding soon left, he hadn’t even realized that he was holding it at first.

“Yeah… ‘ad a few during the World Wars, during the black plague… I think the last one was in the 80’s…” Ghost responded before the kettle started to whistle violently, letting the men know that the hot water was done. The vampire took down two mugs, putting a tea bag in each, then red powder in one. Soap could only assume that the powder was dried blood. He poured the water out of the kettle. Soap watched curiously, noting how even the mugs seemed hand made.

“Ye dabble in pottery?” Soap asked curiously.

“Probably.”

“At one time.” Ghost responded calmly, putting the mug without the red powder in front of Soap before sitting across from him on the other side of the table.

“Ye think ye can still do it?” Soap asked, scribbling the answers down.

“Will ye show me?”

“Maybe.”

Soap huffed softly before grabbing the mug and softly blowing into the tea before testing the temperature against his lips. It was a bit too hot, but he took a small sip. The tea was good, strong and slightly bitter, but strong.

“Ye make the tea yerself?” Soap asked, putting his mug down, pen ready to scribble down the answer.

“Yea. Basically everything in ‘ere I made. Minus the stove, anything electrical, and a handful of silverware. Those were gifts.” Ghost replied, answering a handful of Soap’s next questions. “Ye write down everythin’ we say like a damn scribe?”

“Almost e’rytin’. Want me ta not include somethin’?” Soap asked. He quickly stopped writing as he looked up at Ghost. He didn’t look irritated, but genuinely curious.

“Nah. Just don’ ask stupid questions.” He responded with a huff.

The two shared a few more simple questions back and forth before an alarm went off on Soap’s phone.

“Awe shite.” He mumbled, annoyed at himself for forgetting about the meeting he had in 30 minutes, but that was miles away. If he ran and caught a cab early, he might make it 30 minutes later. But he couldn’t be late. Not for this.

“What’s that?” Ghost questioned before sipping his cup of tea.

“An alarm fer a meetin’ I’m supposed to be at in 30 minutes. Far as fuck though. I don’t think I’ll make it.” Soap said standing up quickly as he chugged the rest of the tea he so wished he could enjoy.

“Let me help out.” Ghost said, standing up as well while Soap pushed in his chair.

“Nah, you don’t gotta. I’ll just run an’ haul a cab.” Soap said, pocketing the notepad and pen.

“You’ve entertained me these past few hours. Allow me to help.” Ghost insisted.

The words he used made Soap tense up a bit before shaking his head, heading towards the door, reaching for the doorknob. Ghost’s gloved hand gripped Soap’s as soon as his skin touched the knob.

“Let me help.” Ghost said in a soft voice.

“R-Right… Speed…” Soap murmured softly. Ghost nodded before the Scot huffed, “Aight fine.” The masked vampire let go of the human so he could open the door. The two ducked out of the house and right as Ghost finished closing the door, Soap was in his arms bridal style. The rush of movement change made Soap’s stomach churn slightly. He wrapped his arms around Ghost’s neck, holding on tightly.

“Jus’ ta the nearest cab area is fine… Thank you, Ghost.” Soap requested before he tightly shut his eyes. Wind hit him as if it was chunks of snow being blown into his face. He could now understand why Ghost covered his body, well, other than the sun of course.

“We’re ‘ere.” The soft tone of Ghost’s voice said as Soap opened his eyes, he was standing on a busy-ish street, but Ghost was nowhere in sight. Soap hailed a cab and informed the driver of the location of where he needed to go. The human checked his phone as the car pulled away. Ghost ran for only a few minutes and saved him 40 minutes. He’d be able to make it.

Soap cursed and hit the back of his head against the headrest of the cab. He forgot to leave something to let Ghost know he’d be back. Hopefully at the same time next week. He’d just have to make the trek without announcing his presence, again.

That would be next week's Soap problem though. He needed to focus on that meeting today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Goddamn another 2k words. I am just busting out writings today! (wrote 5k words within my awake time) Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy! This is probably just going to be an every so often work. No set schedule or anything. Just whenever brain says we shall right.

Inspired by this post

[lampochkaart]

1, 2, 3, 7, 8, 18, 19 and 20 for Kokichi for the character ask??? (Sorry if that's too many haha)

Woah, so many! Okay, okay, I don't mind👀

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

I love him so much!! I really love how complex he is, how incredible charismatic and fun he is, how fucking smart he is... And I also love how flawed and biased he is. And how cynical and stubborn he is.

I absolutely LOVE the characters that are right and wrong at the same time. Kokichi often says something that is technically right, but at the same time his judgement is very flawed so it's impossible to completely agree with him. Or he's trying to do something good but the way he's doing it is... not great. Or has a good intentions but is being a complete asshole about it.

Like, for example, the situation with Maki. Yes, it's a good thing that he warned everyone about an assassin since they're in a killing game. But also he was trying to separate her from the group and kept needling her even when she wasn't showing any agression to others (and also she had plenty oportunities to kill, but made no move to do it). Only willing to see her as a threat.

And, of course, he's also a very tragic character. What's even worse is that most of it is self inflicted. He isolates, he turns people against himself, he cuts off every possible friendly connection he had. He spends so much time investigating, coming up with plans. And dies in a horrible painful way for the sake of a plan. The plan that didn't work. And he lied to such an extent that people doubted even the sincerity of his last words. Absolutely soul crushing (and body crushing SORRY)

10/10 angst, my heart is in pieces💔

He's both funny and entertaining and also very tragic and I love him for it

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Hmm... Hard to only choose one

Probably his insane acting abilities. How much he's able to control his emotions, how fast can he switch from one to another. How he's able to keep his face no matter how he feels

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

Difficult question, because I really like him. Even (especially) with his flaws

Uhhh... His bad CGs maybe? It's more of a problem with V3 in general (although some CGs from other games also have problems). But I'm just thinking about those ones from after trial 4 and they... look very weird. It might be becuase V3's production was rushed, but still

Other that that it's what I'm talking about in 19th question

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

I'm gonna answer these two questions in a different ask since it would probably be pretty long answer and this post is already long enough

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

Oh, I'll take this as an invitation to ramble about Kokichi and Kaito!! >:]

I think Kaito and Kokichi's relationship is probably the most interesting in the game. They are polar opposites. They are two sides of the same coin. The are narrative foils.

It's so facinating to see their opposite ideologies clash. Kaito is an idealistic optimist, who wants to play the role of a hero, who values emotions over logic, who's willing to believe at someone simply because he wants to. Kokichi is a cynical pessimist, who likes playing the villain, who values logic over emotion, and who would rather lie, than let people get close to him.

Because of that they constantly get into arguements. And they're totally baffled by each other. Before they never met anyone like that, probably haven't even considered people like this real. How could someone be so cynical and distrusting? How could someone be so naive and trusting? They just can't understand each other's point of view because it's so different from their own. And that's just so fun to watch

But at the same time... They are very similar. Both of them are liars. Both of them are upholding an image, presenting themselves stronger than they are. Both are social, like to be around people. Both like to have fun. Both like to tell crazy stories. Both sometimes act "immature".

And also I like this little fact that a lot of Kaito's loved items are Kokichi's liked items and a lot of Kokichi's loved items are Kaito's liked items. So they even have a lot of shared interests!

It's very entertaining to watch them get into conflicts with each other. And it's because of all their antagonism throughout the game, that it's so cool to see them work together in Ch.5.

They're forced in a fucked up hopeless situation and they do their best to make the most use of it. They have a common goal: to end the killing game. So they put aside their differences and work together. They see each other in their most vulnerable moments. They hate it, but there's no way to avoid it. They put their trust in eachother. They switch roles. But at the same time the roles don't change. Kaito becomes a liar (but he was always one). Kokichi becomes a martyr (but he was always going to do that).

I love 5th case because it's not a murder out of malice, not a murder to get our and not an accident. It's an act of trust. They both put trust in each other. Even though they were pretty much enemies for a good part of the game! They both know they're dying. They both know that there's a high risk of the plan failing. But they still choose to do it. For a small chance of success. For a small chance of a happy ending. Not for themselves, but for their friends.

In my opinion Kaito and Kokichi have one of the most interesting relationships in DR. And I firmly believe that to understand one of them, you have to understand the other. Only then it's possible to see the full picture.

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

Kokichi's relationship with Kiibo. He's just constantly picking on him for no reason. The bit quickly becomes too repetetive and just unnecessary mean. Also to me it feels that a lot of things Kokichi does should have some kind of meaning behind them (sometimes even several layers of meaning). So I would've kinda expected that since Kokichi's doing this so persistently, he's trying to do something. Like maybe he's somehow trying to push Kiibo to accept his unique abilities and powers. And while that maaaybe kinda can be interpreted like Kokichi is doing it in the most weird awkward way possible. But still, it's a pretty big stretch. Without any actual payoff it's just Kokichi being mean to Kiibo and that's it. Just bullying the poor robot who wants to be treated normally

They could be friends if Kokichi was nicer to Kiibo. And I would really like them to be friends...

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

GONTA!!!

Kokichi's friendship with Gonta is so so important to me!!

I don't know, I just think it would be so nice if Kokichi would hang out with Gonta and listen to him talk about bugs even though he hates bugs. And if Gonta would participate in Kokichi's pranks. I just like to think they would have fun together. They could've been such an cool duo if they weren't in a shitty stressful situation.

I like Kokichi being friends with Miu and potentially with Rantaro and with Kaito, but Kokichi's friendship with Gonta holds a special place in my heart<3

Thank you for the ask!!<333

[dadrielle]

I have to assume from context that this is about the glasses question, and with all due respect, I think this is deeply unfair. I really like your work, and I have also long suspected that a lot of the resentments that have built up within fandom come in part from the way everyone vague blogs instead of talking to each other, which is why I am responding to you directly. Sorry if this is an overstep.

I think the majority of people who are deep in fandom find the Fireside chats in general kind of disappointing because we want them to have more depth. I know you and I agree that the format is not super well suited to in depth character stuff, and obviously CR has not been using it as a vehicle for that; Marisha's was half about Stardew Valley, and many of the questions that are pre-selected by Dani or whomever else are not about the characters or even the campaigns. Plus the actors in the hot seat choosing to just read whatever question they can see while the chat moves at lightning speed means that some of the stuff that gets answered is just random chance. I also don't like it, but I think that's just baked in to it being a live Q & A. The interactive component is its main unique angle for better or worse.

I also think it's fair to look at the questions that get submitted and cringe as someone deeper in fandom—there were somewhere in the realm of 50 different questions about dice, stuff that has been answered before, etc. But I do think we need to remember that as frustrating as those are, some of that is due to the fact that not everyone is In Deep, you know? Most people who watch CR are not active in fandom. We're a tiny subsection. Live chats with actors very often draw casual fans who don't know that these things are redundant or uninteresting to other people. They are just excited to get to ask their favorite something! I find it maddening too, but it is what it is, and it's not new—con audience Q & As have always been the same.

But here are the facts about the glasses question specifically:

It was not the only question Cole submitted; he also submitted some deeper character questions.

It was submitted in the pre-stream phase and was pre-selected by Dani.

It is something Laura has referenced on stream and in 4sd multiple times before without coming to a resolution so it is not completely out of left field for Laura.

The glasses have become a weird lightning rod in fandom, with people assigning moral value to whether someone likes Imogen in glasses, as if liking the idea of glasses means that you infantilize Imogen.

To the above point, it was one of only a couple questions that some people, in a departure from the standard of decorum in the chat, decided to explicitly react to with thumbs down emojis.

I am not going to address the last two points here (though I think I am going to make a post about it generally) because I don't know your feelings about them and I don't want to ascribe the feelings or behaviors of others to you. I only bring it up because I think that they color the reactions people have to this question in particular quite a bit. I think there were many people, myself included, who enjoyed that question being asked not because they have strong feelings about the glasses fanon (I am deeply ambivalent), but because it felt nice to see it be treated as something lighthearted and fun, to be reminded that all the fanwank about it is really just insular and small.

So my main reason for making this post is the rest of it. I do not think it is fair to throw shade at Cole for asking that question. He asked other questions, deeper questions, which I know that you'd only be able to know if you looked at the question thread, but needs to be said because it is directly in opposition of what you said here about not caring about the characters or campaign. And Cole is also one of the people active in fandom who interacts with the discourse the least. He is not someone who is a diehard for any particular answer regarding the glasses; sometimes he draws her with them, sometimes he doesn't—this was clearly not about getting his favored fanon proven correct because he doesn't have one. Which again, you might not know! But that's part of the problem here—there is a lot of assumption of intent and character that is just both off the mark and really ungenerous. Cole is a genuinely nice guy who is getting all kinds of splash damage over a completely innocuous question and it honestly bothers me a lot. Saying that he must not care about the characters or the story because he asked that question, that it makes him or anyone else who enjoyed the question selfish, feels to me like offloading frustrations about the format on him and he does not deserve that. I get why Dani chose it as the final question; if you divorce it from the discourse, it's lighthearted, something Laura has actually been considering back and forth all campaign, and a bit tongue in cheek. It had an inside joke component of ribbing Laura about needing the teleprompter made larger. Ending on something heavy is not the usual strategy for talk segments, and without the drama hanging off it, it looks like a quick, cute send off.

I get being frustrated with what questions were asked and answered, I really do. I also desperately wish we got something juicier, even though I did ultimately enjoy the experience of watching, because Laura is very charming. But I suggest you consider that maybe taking that frustration out on other people who love the show, to say they are selfish and don't actually care about it, is unkind and disproportionate.

I shouldn't be surprised by the fireside chat being the state it was, seeing as I don't follow any CR themed blogs myself or really go into the tags because I find it frustrating but still, the bleed over of fanon is depressing and a lot of you are showing your asses in terms of how you don't actually gaf about the characters or the story the players have chosen to tell.

I love my au's, I love my headcanons, I love my not quite canon ships, but they're for me and the people who chose to enjoy them if they want to. and what makes creating those things more fulfilling is trying to really be true to the character it's about, otherwise just go play with OCs

this will be my last salty post on the matter (guess we'll see) but man, the timing? all of this crazy shit is going on, it is well established that the audience is frustrated with how little downtime we've had with these characters and getting to see those long rest bonds we got to enjoy with previous campaigns, 4SD is over, and that's what you wanna ask about? it's selfish, honestly.

[elodieunderglass]

is PCRF still where you recommend people donate, or do you have another recommended group? I would like to donate but haven’t had time to do research.

(In reference to fundraising campaign I did for PCRF)

One of the most important things I have learned about conflict and healthcare and devastation, from someone who deals with them for their living, is that it is fractal, each piece of it containing unimaginable complexity, and that as a human you can’t really deal much with fractals that get more complex than, like, ferns. I am oversimplifying here. But the thing is that you cannot get bogged down endlessly in debating the nature of fractals. You decide on the level of complexity you can manage , perform an action and move on. You cannot take responsibility for every mathematical pattern that follows from your action; if you were a sort of cosmic weatherman, affecting the fates of people you’ve never met through some vague alchemy of intention, you’d know about it already. Therefore do not obsess too much over The Good Place levels of ethics and research, spiralling into fractals in search of the perfect. Therefore, also, if you want to give £2 to someone, feel free to ignore people who say “ah but if you give £2 to that guy they’ll spend it on something bad, and the whole fractal is rotten and broken.” You can only ever claim your own actions, a small piece of the fractal: to insist on your power over distant pieces of mathematical patterns is bonkers. It is religious nonsense. This is what I’ve learned and I thought it was pretty good, from someone who’d know.

So I believe the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund is not able to operate in Gaza at the moment, like many non-profits; I believe Medeciens Sans Frontiers aren’t in Gaza at the moment and that’s pretty dire indicator. However, they are mobilised in Lebanon.

The reasons why I selected PCRF to support include the fact that they have been able to deliver material aid, had pragmatic routes to evacuate children, and were reporting some success in providing/stabilising healthcare infrastructure. They have stated from the beginning that their intent was to support, and ideally restore, healthcare infrastructure, without which you cannot run a nation. I have known healthcare professionals who traveled with PCRF to work on complex cases prior to this conflict and I personally know/respect one of their prominent supporters, which helped me to make this choice. I also was hoping in the future that Gaza would have restored healthcare infrastructure and PCRF had stated their commitment to doing so.

I have received and listened to criticism about this choice, and I firmly believe that no matter what choice you make to support a cause, you’ll receive some measure of criticism (the fractal! Elodie you must consider the fractal nature of reality at all times! Scrupulous frantic morality is necessary at all times !), and that this should not stop you. To explain a bit about this, the criticisms I’ve received have mostly fallen into two camps:

- “the wrong sort of charity” - one concern is PCRF are not able to promise that their work will never support Hamas supporters or their families. This has been raised as “PCRF support Hamas”. but genuinely, given the realities of conflict, it is not practical or sane to require that people bring proof of political affiliation when seeking healthcare for their children. I’m comfortable saying that this, like other risks of fundraising/donation, is always possible but not a major consideration for me.

- “the wrong sort of fundraiser” - conversely some people stated they’d prefer I support individual families seeking evacuation through GFMs. This is also fine but my choice in the charity was partly in thinking about families who do not have GFMs, and children who do not have families. I also felt, at the time of fundraising, that supporting healthcare infrastructure was very worthy in a different way - after all, at the time the same people doing GFMs were also using/needing what healthcare was available.

My shoulders are broad, and I’m comfortable with these criticism. I am fully aware that this is not a complete solution but I personally continue to support the charity. I am explaining this to indicate that there will always be criticisms; you must accept that you can only take a small piece of the fractal, and you must accept that quite a lot of the fractal was never in your gift to control.

The situation is constantly changing and with the departure of organisations there is genuinely less hope of materially restoring the infrastructure in Gaza. At the moment donations to PCRF will likely be mobilised to Lebanon. It may be that this speaks to you. It does still speak to me.

Ultimately while it’s important to do research, it is always going to become fractal, especially in conflict situations. Nobody’s ever going to be able to point to a perfect thing that will fix everything and absolve us of criticism, you know? You will always only be able to pick up a piece of the fractal.

Now moving away from “what I personally support” there are many people more informed than myself and I would like to direct you to them as well. @gothhabiba is someone I follow who has posted several very useful posts about this and has been extremely informative, and spent a lot of time and attention on this, so I would defer to the resources and fundraisers they’ve put together. Her response to a similar question has been “pick 1-3 personal fundraisers” - this is a piece of the fractal. At the moment if what you want to do most is “materially help people in Gaza” that seems like the best option.

Also he doesn’t post much on social media, but when you get the opportunity to read a scientific article or anything by https://x.com/sullivanprof it’s worth stopping and processing. To me, Richard’s life work really shows how a piece of the fractal unpacks to reveal the whole world. I think if you have emotional space to research, it’s honestly a good investment to read some of his “manifestos” on intersections of healthcare and conflict.

[sesamestreep]

sexy himbo jock interpretations of James Tiberius Kirk are silly and do a disservice to the character for a lot of reasons, not least of which is that it fundamentally ignores all the times in canon when Kirk is faced with a scientific discovery or oddity and you can see the effort it takes for him not to clap and skip with excitement. like in ‘the devil in the dark’ when Spock posits that they might be dealing with a silicon based life form and McCoy’s like “but that’s impossible!” and Kirk literally crosses the room to flirt talk excitedly with Spock about the prospect and how it could work! and what it would mean!

What I’m saying is, Kirk’s gotta be smart and a huge dork because how else could he pull a bad autistic bitch like Spock?

[starrysharks]

i want to delete my twitter account so fucking bad

[bernardellinewsagency]

short neuvifuri angst idea

"Oh, did you enjoy the script that she wrote? Did you like the role that you were cast as? I hope you were happy in those five hundred years, Neuvillette, because I never was!"

Furina storms off after pushing him, leaving him drenched to the bone and sitting awkwardly in the waters of the Fountain of Lucine with naught to do but contemplate his long lasting memories. Remembering the way she would smile is an easy endeavor. Furina always looked sincere when smiling; perhaps he wasn't looking hard enough, but surely even fleeting moments between just the two of them had to have brought her some amount of happiness, as small as it may be.

He thinks of one long ago night, during the third century of her reign. Actually, right on the cusp of the new milestone, he recalls the Palais had been eerily silent after wrapping up a week of festivities held in Furina's honor. The people of Fontaine were still celebrating, and would be doing so until the early hours of the morning, but all was still within the Palais. Except for them, that is. She had supposedly retired to her bedchambers, and him to his office, yet the two had bumped into each other within the kitchen.

"Let's go to the Opera," she had told him, in lieu of answering when he asked what she was doing. He supposes that the flecks of pastry crumbs on her clothes answered that, and he didn't ask other questions such as why she wanted to go to the Opera. He followed her as willingly as if she had simply asked for the time.

(Their whole relationship had been like that, hadn't it? A duty that extended beyond just an Archon and her Iudex. He once heard the Traveler mention a sea of flowers at the end of the world, and should Furina declare that she would like to see such a sight, he would tear down Celestia just to make it happen.)

Furina had packed a basket of food to bring, and two bottles of wine to go with. Then they partook perhaps more than they should've, and perhaps he should've questioned if Archons can get drunk, or if a Sovereign should be getting drunk with one. He definitely should have stopped her from going into the storerooms of the Epiclese and procuring even more for them. The memories start to get a little hazy after that, but he can vaguely recall a remark she made about the location not being the best choice, and that she wanted to get away from something. He can't recall who made the decision to go up, and have him help carry her as they climb to the roof, but suspects it was still her doing.

As clear as day, though, he can remember her smile, bathed in the light of the slowly rising sun as it crested over the waters of her dominion. Out of every beautiful sight in Fontaine, she is the one he gets to appreciate most often, but never before in a light like this. He could gaze at that moment for another hundred years and never tire of it. "Dragon of the waters," she had called him, "might you allow an Archon to call you theirs?"

Should she have asked him that at the start of her reign, should they have been in a similar situation, the answer would be clear. He might have even wondered, with the walls of the Court to block them from their peoples' sights, if an Archon so in love with her people would fall like one if he shoved her. But they were not in the past, and he already knew by then that he had come to love her, and thus his answer was "I was under the belief that I already was yours, Lady Furina, both within my capacity as your Chief Justice and without. The people of Fontaine adore you, yet it is my love for you that truly knows no bounds. Nothing would make me happier than to be yours."

"They do, don't they," she had whispered, a note he almost lost to time with how he just barely could hear her. "Promise me this, Neuvillette, if you wish to be mine- promise you will never stray from your duties to Fontaine, and you will always, always, do what is best for her people."

"I will."

"And promise that you will stay by my side forever, then, for another three centuries and beyond that, even if you grow tired of me!"

"Of course, Furina, is... is something the matter?"

It was the first time he had seen her come close to crying, droplets of tears clumping her eyelashes together yet disappearing as she blinked, "Oh, you silly dragon, only the fact that you make me ever so happy."

Leaving the warmth of the memory behind, Neuvillette returns to the cold of an overcast sky dripping with sleet, as a blue silhouette leaves him behind and disappears into the cloudy distance.

[anyoldfandom]

I am actually. I am so emotional over the Salazar parents and I need to share this to tumblr too.

A lot of stories where the MC is adopted I feel. Either dismiss the biological parents and the impact they have on the kid's life, or makes them evil and abusive, framing the loss of the bio parents as a good thing, or at least something we shouldn't think about just look at this new family.

But Genrex doesn't do that. From the start, Rex wanted to find out more about his parents - it's one of his primary character motivations, next to helping people. He loves them, even though he doesn't know them.

And the more he finds out about them, the more he realizes they loved him. Rylander is consumed by guilt but as Rex's first connection to his pre-Event life, the first thing he does is hug him. And when he tells Rex about his parents, the two things Rex knows is that 1) they were scientists, and 2) that when he was in danger, they were desperate enough to use their secret, experimental technology to save him. Technology built from their desire to help the world, to save countless lives and end countless suffering.

And then. When he finds out that they were dead, he doesn't stop caring. It'd be so easy, too, to tie it up there - his parents were good people, he got his answer about them, the end. But they don't. He doesn't. Because the show is saying once again that they are his parents. He still calls them mom and dad, even as the show makes it clear Holiday and Six adopted Rex as their son. Even as the show even parallels Six and One with Rex and Six (and I will talk about that more later if I don't forget, trust me), to really drive home how much they're family. Rex even says he considers the two of them family, and later that he considers Noah, Claire and Annie family.

He has new family, the show tells us, but his old family still matters to him. He's upset that he never has the chance to meet his parents, that everything he hears about them, about his time with them, is secondhand knowledge. It tells us clearly that not only does Rex still love them, but that he still wants to know them. And everything we find out about them reinforces the love that they had for each other.

We see Abuela and the family in Mexico, who connect him to his birth family and tell him that he was so loved back then, and still is now. We see their office in Abysus through Rex's eyes. The picture of him and his dad on his desk. The drawing Rex drew, proudly pinned to the wall.

We see it in the familiarity of the drawing. That that robot, that build, was what Rex created when he was lost and scared and alone - that it was made to keep him safe. That it first appeared in his mind in a place he felt safe.

The show says, tenderly and softly, that the love is still there. That the fact these people died was nothing but a tragedy, that their love is a big part of what made Rex who he is today - that every molecule in his body is filled with their final gift to him. That every time he cures someone, every time he uses a build, every time he makes a machine - we see the love that they had for him.

And the way he quietly absorbs his father's face. The way he freezes and whispers "Mamá?" when he finds out Zag-Rs has their mother's voice. The fact that she even has her voice as a testament to Caesar's love, too - that it was meant to bring comfort and safety. The way Rex yells at Caesar when he finds out they have a family property, a connection to their past, the way he fights to protect it.

And, none of this takes away still from Six and Holiday being Rex's family too. None of this removes the work either set of parents did for him, the love either set has - the show says that it was unfair that the Salazar parents were lost. That Six and Holiday are not replacements, that they still love him as parents but play different roles in his life. They can not, and have no desire to, replace the Salazars. But Rex needs parents, he needs protectors, and so they will do what they can for him - at first out of necessity, to keep this kid they barely know safe, but then out of love. They aren't replacing what was lost, but are doing their best to do what Rex's bio parents would do. And they do mess up in it - they mess up in ways Rex's bio parents might not have. Six is clearly bad with showing affection, affection we saw the Salazars give Rex so easily, and Holiday is overworked and stressed constantly, sometimes breaking under the pressure and snapping at Rex and Six, things we never saw the Salazars do.

It's just. It's about how sometimes things will not be the same. They will be different. That doesn't mean the people you lost aren't still with you.

[bugtoast]

Post-canon II au where the characters live in a gay little commune (suitcase uses her money to build a tiny town on the island) on their gay little island (Inanimate island) dreamed up by a gay little man (Mephone4)

Call it Baxterville cause none of them could think of a name, and lightbulb was like “lets name it after my crab :]”

[satorugojoswiife]

What do you think about gojo ships

I feel like I'm pretty indifferent to most of them. This is super cringe of me, but whenever I fall super in love with a character I don't often like shipping them romantically with anyone. 💀 (im delusional I know)

It doesn't help that for some reason the jjk fandom (especially twt) is weirdly aggressive about ships. I know it isn't all the shippers and it's mostly just the loud minority, but seeing so much of the discourse has kinda put me off and I don't really engage much with the ships in the fandom except for rarepairs and selfships bc alot of the time those communities are more wholesome and cozy (if that makes sense LOL)