#and no critique from me on this piece I like how it turned out

[fayewoodss]

I've been pushed to an extreme recently and I need to get this off my chest for my own sanity. I've been ignoring this for months and doing what I can to avoid it, but things have increasingly gotten worse and I'm at a breaking point.

I know there are a lot of people keeping tabs on my blog for all the wrong reasons. This has led to a lot of my posts, fandom related and not, being taken and manipulated in ways to frame me negatively and warp any and all of my genuine intentions. I've done my best to address situations brought directly to me in good faith and with sensitive context, but everything has gotten out of hand and turned into a situation that has left me paranoid, anxious, and distraught. I need it to stop, even though I know it most likely won't.

This all started with my first drawing of the Dream Team girlfailures au in November and how I drew Claire. I understand the issue people had with it and I recognize some of the counter arguments and their valid points, but I think I explained my points well and they are equally valid. I stand by my explanation and I won't be rehashing all of it. The most I'll say is that my representations of cc!Dream in fandom context and of Girlfailures!Dream/Claire as an AU character are derived of a similar foundation but the latter is a fictional entity and not the real man.

I am always open to critique and discussion, but the feedback I've received and the long standing fixation on that art piece hasn't always been good faith critique, and has much more often been harassment and degradation of me as a person. That one drawing has led to an ongoing issue with what I would consider to be stalking and harassment.

Mar, @/cuntdrolo, has made at least 50 posts about and/or involving me, in those either directly linking my blog, indirectly mocking me and my posts, and harping on topics and discussions I was an active participant in. She claims none of this is harassment and stalking, that all of it is derived from me being a "sensitive golo" and normal fandom drama, when it's not. This hasn't been about fandom drama for a long time.

The only time I've directly interacted with her was to send her this message today:

She responded and blocked me, which is what I wanted, but has continued to post about me and this entire situation (which involves other people but I won't be dragging them into my part of this).

Here is a list of every post about me since mid-November. A few links I know for certain are missing, but I was unable to find the posts and two screenshots I had from that time saying I deserved to be killed for my art were deleted long ago. You will have to take my word for that unless I find them, but I understand and respect it if you don't.

I know she won't stop. I know there are people who will agree with her and support her, seeing only one side of this all. I don't care if people like my art. I don't care if people like me. I just want to be left alone and enjoy this fandom space without feeling like every action of mine is being watched and picked apart to an audience that doesn't know me and doesn't care to know me.

I've been in fandoms my whole life. I've dealt with plenty of fandom and personal drama. I've never experienced something to this degree of obsession, stalking, and harassment. I know a lot of this may get twisted back on me, but know I've done so much to ignore this and move on, but after this week with so much more being brought to my attention. I cracked.

Do not go to her blog. Do not interact with her posts. Do not send her anons. Do not involve yourself in this beyond reading this post and understanding my current mindset.

I don't want to be involved in this anymore. Stop making posts about me and leave me alone.

Thank you.

[frogofshadyorigin]

Somehow found the inspiration to do this one as well. And thus concludes (for now) the drawings of Fuertisium reese.

I'll start another three-piece drawing for Gristleum patricia soon, just have to read the script again and get some ideas.

[romanoffsbish]

Insatiable

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

As you prepare for your college reunion, and life evolves around you, your wife realizes she’s ready for more. | WC: 1978

18+ | Minors DNI

Smut: Natasha has a penis | Oral / Fingering (R) | Overstimulation | 🤏 Penetration (R) | Breeding

You weren't exactly sure how you got here, or so you feigned—because one second you are on the phone, telling your bestie about your plans for the reunion today with Wanda, the other piece of your trio. Then the next you're pressed up against a door until things eventually escalated to the bed. Certainly, you weren't complaining but you did hear Darcy's muffled disgust followed by the earned dial tone, shortly after a moan.

———

Now though, after an hour, you were starting to feel an aching where pleasure once reigned. "Tasha please," you mewled but she just couldn't stop, "shh," her tone was hushed yet intensely raspy as she begged, "just one more for me detka, please." You moaned, discomfort quieted down for now, your spent body melting into the mattress as it succumbed to the pleasure; again.

Natasha couldn't help it, her eyes were transfixed on your cunt as she just continued to plow her fingers into you, the finest rings of white continued to form on her skin, passing her knuckles and thickening every time she pulled out to slam back in and curl up. Each time without fail you'd gasp, then whine rather incoherently—your pussy took over speaking for you as it gushed and her tongue communicated right back, all you could vaguely hear now was your juices splashing about since her lips had left the curve of your jaw to devour you.

It amazed Natasha just how much you always gave, she looked forward to making love to you every few days just so she could bury herself in your warm core. It wasn't scheduled or anything, just a perfect routine that always led to communal pleasure and comfort. It'd be daily but she liked to give you a break from time to time, even though she still spent it wrapped up in you because she couldn't imagine anywhere better to be.

Ever since retirement you'd become her only focus, she read novels from time to time—like whenever you were out with Wanda and Darcy, which in turn inspired many long nights as you usually walked in wearing a new outfit meant to catch her attention, with a sway to your hips that left her pants tight and her mind wild.

Outside of that though, she had no hobbies, her hero training replaced with nights of endless passion. You were astonished that your vagina still worked; it wept for her the same way your heart yearned for her care.

Natasha was a perfect lover, in all ways, but it wasn't always the case. It took years of patience to receive her unwavering love like this. You fought so hard for her too, making it through hell and back in this life just to find her, then it took forever to break down her walls. Because, up until you she had never regarded anyone romantically; everything was carnal for the redhead.

Now, there was a much deeper connection—a roaring fire lit within you by being her one and only lover. It never wavered; the passion, even on the calm nights where you two were just cuddling, the unique, for you intimacy, it just always got you to a point of neediness..

Like last night, when Natasha stretched behind you and you'd felt the soft outline of her bulge against your backside, it made you wet but then she curled around you so sweetly you'd fall for it, she yawned against your cheek before teasingly questioning your disengaged focus, "how are you liking the movie, moya 'lyubov?"

Knowing full and damn well you were more than likely desperate for her touch, she kept her grip on you firm but it was begrudgingly innocent enough. Which was distracting beyond words as you tried to remember any stupid scene you could critique before huffing, "I hate the Bond series, Tasha." Your wife snuggled closer and kissed you tenderly before changing the film, softening you into the perfect, pliable mess you now were.

Natasha was already clued in when you woke up today, you exited the room in a plush grey robe which usually insinuated you were working on your hygiene routine, shaving away your unwanted hair, leaving behind a soft mound for both of your comfort. You had grabbed a banana then winked at your wife as you walked by and she knew that was an invitation to come ruin you.

Whenever she heard the water being turned off is when she knew you would be close to ready for her, so she set her dishes in the sink and briefly waited for the sign. Soon enough the pipes in the wall swooshed and the redhead ran up the stairs, in a grey sports bra and boxers that had an embarrassing wet patch at the top.

Just as you exited you found yourself between strong arms, with warm lips repeatedly being pressed into the crook of your jaw and neck as her hands gripped your hips roughly. A sweet whimper left your lips as she nipped and sucked on your pulse and the redhead chuckled softly, endeared by your usual neediness.

Then a phone fell from your nervous hands right by her feet and she momentarily froze, then you moaned and she was back, the phone loudly disconnected. It was a blur of sinful pleasure; you were desperate.

Natasha pulled away rather abruptly, biting back a laugh with her smirk as you glared at her. "You've already RSVP'd detka, shouldn't we be leaving now?" It took you a long moment to understand what she was even referring to seeing as how the only thing really thinking for you was your dripping, needy pussy.

You were supposed to go to a reunion luncheon today, that's what you were telling Darcy, who was already with the redhead, because Wanda knew better than to expect you there. To greet the class that brought you into both of their lives when you could stay in solitude with your lover. Plus, she is only even going because she is spearheading a scholarship for young women in stem with her boat loads of Tony Stark's guilt money.

If not for her required presence to pass the first check on in a show, she'd be back at home with her wife, Monica, and their kids—Toby, a blue eyed siamese kitten, and Evelyn, their three month old daughter.

It was crazy to think about, how different life is after a decade of being in one another's lives. Natasha never imagined her circumstances would be this sweet and she thanks the witches ambition for it. She'd went to the college campus one day to visit the Sokovian, who decided to get an education alongside her hero gig. It was an end of the world situation, you were with your part time dorm mate at the time and so the Russian brought you too—muttering crap about your safety.

Four months on the lam later, and you were her girl. Tony apologized and got your education fees paid off for all your prior years and the rest to come for being the reason you nearly lost your future, but now you know you were just being rerouted to the right spot.

"Come back to me sweetheart," she cooed, her heart melting as she somehow caught your love drunk gaze. It was like she was lost in the memories with you. The chance to fall in love all over again was enticing but then she remembered her stubbornness and settled into the moment with you. "What's your color?"

"Yellow." It was an instant answer, but you shrugged because you were unsure if you were truly done yet. Natasha knew that what you needed here was a break, so she made the choice to ignore her throbbing cock.

The redhead hummed softly, then kissed your lips just the same, a smile instantly disrupting the gesture as she felt your delicate hands cup her cheeks to firmly hold her in place. There was no rush to the moment though, you two simply kissed, as if you weren't the same women who just missed a college reunion to fuck.

Natasha had plans for tonight though, while everyone there reminisced on their past few years she had you pinned to the mattress with the future on her mind. For years she turned your pleas down for a variety of reasons, but now, after seeing you with Wanda's baby she realized that there's no more time for her fears. You looked so at peace, with the infant you soothed in your arms and she could see your life to be so clearly.

The kiss that spoke your love for one another came to an end when she felt your grip on her face going limp. Natasha chose then to gently slip her fingers out of you. A soft whimper left you at the loss, soothed only into silence as the redhead lovingly kissed your neck.

Once she pulled back from your body, to kneel above you, her eyes were enamored by the way your essence coated her fingers and slowly trailed down the grooves of her palm. She licked her skin clean, sinful noises leaving her as she shamelessly slurped and moaned. She peered down to see your eyes shut, so she left the room. You were much too tired to protest the loss of your wife's comforting embrace, because the delicious void of sleep began to creep into your once clear vision.

Natasha returned to the room a while later, boxers tight with need but heart full as she found you snoring softly. You looked so pretty, curled around her pillow as if it had actually pained you to be apart from her. A singular tear trailed down her cheek at the feeling of your love that surrounded her in this quiet moment.

A sudden urge to fill you, to give you what you wanted, took over her body as she rushed forward. Still, her approach to you was tender, a thumb traced over the apple of your cheek before descending to your lips, where she gently tapped until you naturally pouted. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, met with the smile of your beautiful wife, you instantly smiled back at her.

"Welcome back," she teased, bringing a bottle of water to your lips before you could sass her right back. Then you were being fed various fruits from the tip of a fork, there was no conversation flowing, the both of you enjoying the comfort of the silence. You were oblivious to your lovers giddy look as you enjoyed a watermelon chunk, unaware she was ready to break it. Then you heard the sound of the fork scraping against ceramic, you flinched back to reality in time to hear her loud and clear, "I am finally ready to fuck a baby into you."

"Natasha no," you warned without the bark, she could see you were asking her not to joke, and her face lit up with resolute amusement. "Fuck," you gulped, her body now hovered yours once again, and you knew you were a goner when she wolfishly grinned down at you. "Detka," her hands wrapped around your ankles and you propped your body up on your elbows to watch.

"Color?" There was no hesitation from you, her eyes told you that she meant it, she was ready, "green."

"Oh fuck," you cried when the tip of her thick cock slid through your glistening slit, unrestricted for the first time, her thumbs dug into the dimples in your thighs as she felt your warmth envelop her. "Dermo." You knew once her mouth met yours—moans leaving her in carnal waves as her hips repeatedly met yours with brutal force, that you were screwed beyond a prayer.

Or, to be more on the nose, you were about to be...

[satsugacafe]

𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐒/𝐎

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: Grimmjow, Starrk, Ulquiorra

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Hello! Can I have a request? How would Starkk, Grimmjow, and Ulquiorra adjust to a human world with human s/o?

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I had too much fun with this piece lol. Enjoy!

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: How they adjust to living in the human world with you.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Coyote Starrk

↬ Starrk found the human world baffling, mainly because of how noisy everything seemed compared to Hueco Mundo. Car alarms, the hum of electricity, and people chatting endlessly in cafes had him constantly muttering, “Do humans ever shut up? Where is the off switch?”

↬ He had a lazy charm that worked in his favour. He would somehow manage to get free samples from the bakery down the road just by looking mildly interested. “You know, this human world isn’t so bad when they hand out food for no reason.”

↬ Teaching him to use modern appliances was a trial. He once accidentally turned the vacuum cleaner on full blast and almost blasted himself through the wall. “This thing’s alive, isn’t it?”

↬ He was a natural with animals, though. Dogs adored him, and he could walk into a park and have a pack of strays following him within minutes. You joked he was assembling a canine fracciones.

↬ He had an odd fascination with pigeons. He’d sit on park benches for hours, watching them mill about, occasionally throwing them crumbs. “They’re like tiny, less annoying Lilynettes. I like them.”

↬ Cooking became a mild obsession for him once he realised how much variety the human world offered. You caught him watching cooking tutorials on your phone. “Why do they all say, ‘easy recipe’ when this involves twenty steps and an oven I barely understand?”

↬ He was incredibly protective in the human world, though it didn’t show in dramatic ways. He’d keep you on the safe side of the pavement, steer you away from crowded areas, and shoot deadly glares at anyone who even glanced at you wrong. “Humans don’t know their place sometimes. Annoying, really.”

↬ He once tried going grocery shopping alone and came back with entirely the wrong things. You asked for bread and milk; he brought back jam and six bags of crisps.

↬ You introduced him to Netflix, and he became addicted to crime dramas. He liked to critique the criminals’ plans. You also caught him talking to your cat one afternoon, a very serious conversation about naps. “Listen, furball, if you don’t appreciate a good nap, what’s the point of life?”

↬ He was baffled by your human obsession with coffee. One morning, after trying it for the first time, he leaned back, his eyes narrowing at you. “So you willingly drink this dirt water every day?”

↬ Every time you mentioned going to work, he’d dramatically throw himself across the doorframe. “No. Stay. Your world’s already loud enough—don’t leave me to suffer alone.”

↬ Sleeping in the human world was oddly peaceful for him. He would stretch out on your sofa, claim half the bed without meaning to, and casually drape an arm over you. Just don’t let him sleep on a water bed. Worst sleep of his life.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

↬ The feral kitty cat was convinced humans were weaklings until you took him to a gym. He ended up challenging some poor bloke to a weightlifting contest, won, and then complained it wasn’t a fair fight. Eventually, exercising was his idea of fun. He got addicted to the gym, showing off during pull-ups or weightlifting. “You watching? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

↬ Adjusting to technology was a nightmare. He refused to admit he didn’t know how to use a phone and kept swiping at the screen like he was challenging it to a fight. “Why doesn’t it do what I tell it to? Stupid thing.”

↬ He got into trouble almost daily. One time, he scared a street performer by growling when they asked for a tip. You had to stop him from picking fights with random joggers. “What? They were staring too long. Looked like they wanted a challenge.”

↬ You tried teaching him how to cook, but he turned it into a battle. “Fire’s too weak. How do you even boil water in this thing?” He ended up burning toast and proudly declaring it a success.

↬ He was surprisingly good with kids, though he’d never admit it. Once, a group of kids challenged him to a game of football in the park, and he got way too into it. You had to stop him from trash-talking a ten-year-old. “What? They need to toughen up!”

↬ Animals adored him, which annoyed him to no end. Dogs would trot up to him on walks, wagging their tails. “What’s your deal? Go away!” But you caught him sneaking them pats when he thought you weren’t looking.

↬ Grimmjow got jealous easily in the human world. If anyone flirted with you, he’d casually stand behind you with his arms crossed, glaring like an angry kitty ready to pounce. “They can look somewhere else unless they want trouble.”

↬ You introduced him to video games, and he was instantly hooked. He preferred fighting games and made it his mission to beat you every time. “Don’t hold back, or I’ll make you regret it.” When he finally lost, he pouted for hours.

↬ He mocked human horror films relentlessly. “This is supposed to scare you? I’ve seen Hollows scarier than that guy with the knife.”

↬ He hated wearing human clothes at first and complained endlessly about jeans (like those skinny jeans Urahara gave him lol). “These things are like a prison for my legs!” Eventually, he settled for hoodies and track pants, which he grudgingly admitted were “not bad.”

↬ Going out to eat was chaos with him. He’d order the spiciest thing on the menu just to prove he could handle it, then spend the rest of the meal pretending his face wasn’t red. “I’m fine. This? This isn’t hot at all.”

↬ He did love human food but refused to admit it. “What’s this crap? Tastes alright, I guess.” Yet you caught him hoarding spicy crisps and chugging fizzy drinks like they were going out of style.

Ulquiorra Cifer

↬ The fourth Espada treated the human world like a scientific experiment, observing everything with quiet fascination. You once caught him staring at a vending machine for ten minutes before he asked, “How does it decide what to give you?”

↬ He doesn’t understand the need for human social practices, like small talk. When someone greeted him with, “How are you?” he replied, “That is irrelevant,” and walked away, leaving you to apologise.

↬ He had an unexpected knack for blending in. His quiet demeanour and neutral expression made him oddly suited to working in your local library. The librarian adored him for his efficiency, though he refused to smile at patrons. “They do not need my emotions to find a book.”

↬ He doesn’t understand sarcasm at all. When you joked about him being a terrible flatmate, he replied, entirely serious, “Then perhaps I should leave.” And then proceeded to depart.

↬ Was very baffled by human food. You once handed him a chocolate bar, and he stared at it like it was a piece of alien technology before taking a cautious bite. “This…is acceptable.” But no spicy food, please.

↬ He was deeply confused by human emotions. Once, you cried watching a sad film, and he frowned. “Why are you leaking from your eyes over something fictional?”

↬ He adapted to human clothes surprisingly well, favouring monochrome outfits that matched his Espada uniform. You teased him about looking like a model, and he replied, “If that is how humans perceive me, it is irrelevant.”

↬ Ulquiorra had a habit of silently appearing behind you, scaring you half to death. When you yelled at him, he tilted his head and said, “If your reaction is fear, then perhaps your spiritual awareness is lacking.”

↬ He found rain fascinating. One evening, you found him standing on the balcony, staring at the sky as water drenched him.

↬ Despite his stoic nature, he had a protective streak. Once, a stranger got too close to you, and Ulquiorra stepped in, his gaze cold. “You are intruding. Leave.” The stranger bolted without another word.

↬ He often left you cryptic compliments. When you asked if he liked spending time with you, he’d say, “Your presence is…not unpleasant. That is sufficient, is it not?”

↬ He found the human world illogical but not without value. One night, as you both watched the stars from your balcony, he quietly admitted, “You humans…are fragile, yet endure. It is strange.”

©satsugacafé 2024: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Nine - Late night scandals

♡♡♡

"What do you think Bridgerton?"

Benedict turns around to find the artist he had accidentally offended at the gallery the other night.

"This one more to your liking?"

"Mr. Granville--" Benedict raises from his chair to approach the man.

"Perhaps they should take it over to Somerset House so it can be skyed right next to mine."

"I believe I owe you an apology, sir." Benedict says, feeling rather embarrassed.

"Unnecessary. I actually quite enjoy the eloquent stings of your critique. So?" He gestures back to the painting on the wall.

"A touch morose for my tastes," Benedict says.

Henry points to the next one.

"A tragedy. The hound deserved better," Benedict comments.

Granville laughs. "Where is yours?"

"My..."

"Your work," Granville clarifies. "Are you tell me you're not an artist yourself?"

"Well, I-- I suppose sometimes I like to... Well, I mean, I almost--"

"I believe 'yes' and 'thank you' are the words you seek. But either way, you should come by my studio." Mr Granville holds out a small card to Benedict, who accepts it. "The pieces I do for myself are there, and I think you will find my real work far less, um... Oh, how did you put it? 'Cold and lacking inner life?'"

Benedict scrunched up his face as he nodded, still burning with embarrassment. "I shall never live that down, shall I?"

Mr Granville leaves.

Benedict returns to his table where he had been absentmindedly doodling. Eyes. He was sketching out a pair of eyes. Pretty ones. From memory.

He sighs and closes the sketchbook.

♡♡♡

As you sit in the drawing room of the Bridgerton house, as invited by Violet, you discover that she had no idea about the boxing match, or that Daphne had been there.

You keep your eyes focused on the latest Whistledown paper, though you had stopped reading it.

Daphne was playing the piano while her mother interrogated her.

"A boxing match is no place for any young lady." Violet sighs.

"Is it a place for a prince? Was he at today's match, sister?" Hyacinth asks.

"He certainly was."

"It is a loathsome and barbarous form of entertainment," Violet was very displeased.

That was when Daphne took the opportunity to mention you had gone as well, which had Violet looking at you.

"You too?"

You glare softly at Daphne, who gives you a smug little look. Crafty one, she is.

"Anthony invited me," you admit.

Violet looked terribly ill all of a sudden. You were sure she would being this up with her eldest son at some point.

"What about the duke?" Hyacinth asks.

"What about the duke?" Both Violet and Daphne ask at the same time. You eye Daphne curiously from your seat.

"Was he also present?" Hyacinth asked, less enthusiastic now.

"I do not know," Daphne says. "If the duke was there, I did not see him."

Hyacinth leaves the piano to go see what Eloise is up to. She had been scribbling away in her book since you arrived.

You put the Whistledown column down and rose from your seat to seek entertainment near the window. Watching the street was surely more entertainment than listening in on that conversation.

Anthony enters the room and greets both his mother and his sister. You turn and he greets you too.

"Did you truly take your sister to a boxing match?" Violet hounds him.

"Your admonishment will have to wait. I have news," he cuts her lecture short. "Prince Friedrich has asked for my permission to propose." He looks at Daphne.

She stops playing. "So soon?"

"Well, what did you tell him?" Violet asks.

"That I know better than to answer for my sister. I have no objections to the man. People speak well of him. Whatever you decide, Daph, you shall have my support."

You look at Daphne quietly.

"I... uh... I..." She doesn't know what to say.

"You need not decide now," Violet tells her. "You certainly have no known him long."

"Let me know when you have an answer, and I shall convey it." Anthony says to his sister.

"Indeed." Daphne looks at him.

Anthony leaves as quickly as he came in. It was clear Daphne needed time to think.

♡♡♡

When Daphne had pleaded with you to attend the next ball with her, you couldn't say no. There was a sadness to her gaze, and you wondered from where it had risen.

Something had happened between her and the duke, and she had been off kilter ever since.

The ball, like all had been so far, was wonderful. The theme was a little more out there this time, but everyone was behaving quite perfectly.

You were standing with Daphne as she scanned the crowd. Exactly who she was looking for, you weren't quite certain. You would suggest the prince on the account that the duke was apparently leaving London tonight.

The prince could be seen across the room. He was in conversation with someone. You glance toward Daphne, but your gaze shifts as Cressida Cowper comes over. You give Daphne a gentle nudge.

"Daphne." Cressida chuckles. "You look beautiful, as always."

"Thank you, Cressida," Daphne says politely.

"You could have chosen anyone," Cressida says. "You have gentlemen lined up to pay you tribute. Yet you did not hesitate to steal my chance for happiness away, did you? I knew the marriage market would make rivals of us, but I never thought youcapable of being my enemy."

"The man made his choice, Cressida. What did you expect me to do?" Daphne asks.

Daphne walks off in the direction of the prince. You look at Cressida and then walk off in the other direction.

There is nothing you could ever say to her.

You begin to walk alongside the dance floor, watching the couples dance. A hand comes into view, and you turn to see a friendly looking young man smiling at you.

"May I have this dance?"

You take a moment to gather yourself. You had hoped one of the Bridgerton boys would be here to dance with you, but you supposed you couldn't rely on them every time.

"You may."

You go with him to dance.

It seemed Benedict wasn't here.

♡♡♡

Benedict was, in fact, making his way to the studio of Mr. Granville. He was intrigued by the artist.

He finds the address and knocks on the door. Henry Granville answers.

"Mr. Bridgerton."

Benedict stands there a little awkwardly.

"Come in, come in."

Granville lets him in. Benedict enters and follows him. He is led further inside and finds himself in a large room. A circle of easels presented around two nude models.

"I do not know what I was expecting, but it surely was not this." Benedict says.

"Oh, simply a gathering of like-minded souls." Henry tells him. "Here, let me show you what I've been working on."

Benedict is led further inside the studio. He passes a couple of painters discussing war so causally.

"What do you think?" Henry asks.

Benedict walks over and takes a look at the canvas.

"Hmm. It's a far cry from Somerset House, I must say."

"I shall take that a compliment."

They both chuckle.

"And I must say, I'm truly jealous. Is this your life?" Benedict asks.

"There are advantages to being the second-born." Henry tells him. "Heirs have the responsibility. Second sons have the fun."

They both chuckle again.

"So... why not go have some fun?" Henry gestures to the models. He's giving Benedict the chance to epress himself through art.

Benedict picks an easel and sits down.

♡♡♡

As you dance once again tonight, you spot Anthony standing off to the side. He's staring at the opera singer.

You hard heard whispers about him being infatuated with an opera singer, but had no idea if there lay any truth to them.

You continue dancing with your partner.

Benedict was still a no-show tonight, which you found to be rather disappointing. You had been looking forward to another evening of his little quips and teasing.

When the dance ends, you curtsy to your partner and head in the direction of Anthony and Violet. Lady Bridgerton had tries to introduce her son to a rather pretty young lady, but he showed no interest.

"Shall we dance, Lord Bridgerton?" You ask, looking at Anthony.

He turns and looks at you, for half a second, thinking you were another lady his mother was intent on pushing on him.

"Yes, let's." He offers his arm, and you take it. Violet watches you both go. Even if he chose you, she would be pleased, but she knows her son will not take you as his wife. You're his friend who has come to rescue him from her for a while.

Violet downs a third glass of champagne.

"She is persistent," you say.

"Hm?"

"Your mother."

Anthony chuckles softly. "Yes. Quite."

"The opera singer..."

He looks at you.

"Nevermind. Its not my business."

Anthony's expression softens. "I was - am - found of her."

"Yes. I assumed as much."

Anthony sighs. "It's complicated.

You nod and say no more on the matter. Anthony spins you around elegantly.

"Is Benedict not here tonight?" You ask, twirling with him.

"Benedict? No." He gazes at you. "Why do you ask?"

"I just noticed his absence."

"Missing your dance partner?" He teases.

You chuckle. "Am I that obvious?"

He winks at you, and you shake your head with a smile. "I'm fond of you boys. I can't help it when I notice one of you is missing."

Anthony grins. "How lucky we are to have gained such a special friend such as you."

As Anthony gives you another turn around the floor, you spot Colin speaking with Penelope. You smile softly at the sight and then turn your attention back to the eldest brother.

At least you'll have one Bridgerton on your dance card tonight.

As the next dance begins, Anthony keeps your company longer. You're aware this may catch attention from others, especially Lady Whistledown should she be here, but none the less, you dance with him twice.

You soon see that Colin has left Penelope on the sidelines to dance with Miss Thompson, and you also find the prince talking to Daphne amidst their dance.

The dance ends, and you manage to catch sight of Daphne fleeing the ballroom.

Anthony bows, and you curtsy.

"Until next time." He nods his head at you. You smile and nod, taking your leave. You worry about Daphne and intend to go check on her, but you're stopped by another gentleman.

You sigh and realise you'll have to dance with him before you can flee again.

The dance feels like it drags on, and on, and on. You smile, you listen to your partner talk, but your mind is focused on Daphne. She did not look well when she fled.

When the dance ends, you spot Anthony leaving the ballroom. You waste no more time and follow him.

He heads outside. You follow.

"Anthony?"

He turns and looks at you. "Go back inside."

"What's the matter? What's happening?"

"Did you see him?" Anthony asks urgently.

"Who?"

"The duke."

"He is here?"

"He was, and now I can't find Daphne." You realise he's concerned about his sister.

You hear something further in the garden, and Anthony hurries off. You follow him, close on his heels.

What you find is not what you ever expected to see.

Simon and Daphne were not just kissing. His hands were all over her. Her dress had been pulled down. You cover your mouth, though you can not hide the gasp that escapes you.

Anthony runs at Simon.

"Bastard!"

Simon receives a strong punch to the face. He falls to the ground, and Anthony takes another swing. He punches him a third time and then stands beside his sister. You hurry to her other side and checks her over.

"Daphne..."

She is speechless. She has no words for you. They have been caught in a compromising position.

"You will marry her," Anthony declares.

"What?" Daphne looks at her brother.

"Immediately. We can only hope no one saw you take such liberties, and my sister is saved further mortification. You will marry her!"

Anthony is angry.

"Brother!"

"I cannot marry her," Simon says.

"You have defiled her innocence, and now you refuse her hand? I knew you were a rake, Hastings, I never thought you a villain."

"I cannot marry her," Simon states more firmly.

Daphne looks hurt.

"Then you leave me no choice. I must demand satisfaction."

"A duel? Anthony, you cannot--" Daphne begins.

"He dishonours you, sister." Anthony looks at her. "He dishonours you and me and the very Bridgerton name. I have misjudged you, indeed. You have duped us both, but I shall not see my sister pay for my own misdeeds. We will settle this as gentlemen."

"I understand," Simon agrees. "I shall see you at dawn."

"I do not understand," Daphne says softly. "You would rather die than marry me?"

You look at Simon quietly.

"I am truly sorry."

"We need to go, Daph. Before anyone should see us." Anthony says softly.

You reach out for her arm gently and pull her away, Anthony follows you both.

Daphne takes her brother's arm after he begs of you not to say a word about anything. You swear by it, looking him in the eye. Anthony thanks you.

You drift off from them as you enter the ballroom once again.

Anthony approaches Colin and tells him he is taking her home. He asks Colin to take care of their mother. You decide to step in and help. Anthony looks grateful.

Anthony and Daphne leave.

Colin looks at you, but you just smile softly at him and ask him to help you with Violet. He doesn't say anything about Daphne or Anthony.

Neither do you.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @crazymar15

@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen -

[oldmanjenkins985]

So, I wanted to talk about something since MD Twitter in particular seems to be having some issues with a current trend in the MD fandom. That being the Panic AU by @candyasbestos (apologies in advance for the ping, just felt like maybe you'd wanna see this)

So I'd like to start right off the bat by saying anyone who is uncomfortable with this AU is completely reasonable for being that way. It's more so that uncomfortableness leading to disdain for the AU that I wanna talk about.

So, I'm a horror fan. I watch plenty of things on horror movies and play plenty of horror games. And what exactly does horror media try and do? Make the player horrified and uncomfortable. Seeing grotesque imagery which may make you wanna vomit. One of the games that comes to mind for something that's definitely meant to make people uncomfortable and not just scared is Fear & Hunger. It's a game with incredibly uncomfortable imagery, sometimes due to gore and other times due to sexual themes. And it's perfectly reasonable for that to turn people off, yet I've never seen anyone have the kind of reaction to stuff like that compared to the reactions some people have had to the Panic AU

And that's the thing with the Panic AU, it makes *N* uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with himself due to Nyx's influence on him. That is the entire point of the AU it seems. And Nyx himself seems to be some kind of representation of mental illness (pretty standard horror trope, I know). I'm not an expert in the subject despite dealing with it quite a bit so I won't name any specific mental illnesses it could be, but it's clear to me Nyx is some kind of urge of N's.

I've made plenty of characters like Nyx for my original works that are also meant to be representations of mental illness. Voices that whisper to you to do terrible things, creatures that make you feel worthless and shut down, etc. I make these not only because I find them scary but also as reflections of my own experience with mental illness. And it's that first point again that makes me question people's reactions to it.

People have said "It's grossly out of character for N" and stuff like that which...honestly that makes me think they only saw the initial wave of art and don't really know how N feels about the whole situation. But the other thing is that so many AUs have intentionally mischaracterized N because of what the AU is. And I'm not talking just swap AUs, I've seen plenty where N's character is wildly different because of the circumstances of the AU. And I see the Panic AU no different.

I also saw another comment of someone saying "We shouldn't normalize behavior like this" and again, I question whether the person has actually researched the thing they're talking about. Nyx, the thing that makes everyone uncomfortable, is very clearly the *villain* of the AU. He killed Uzi, he wants N to kill Thad, he's a horrid little creature. Are villains not meant to do things we disdain? Murder, torture, etc. It's prefectly understandable these things would make people uncomfortable, but isn't that what many villains do? There's plenty of media with torture scenes in them which make people uncomfortable, but that's the point! Hell, some kid shows have torture scenes. What about the Lich's design from Adventure Time? He's a rotting corpse! In a kid show! His design is clearly meant to make the viewer uncomfortable.

So again, while I don't think anyone is in the wrong for being uncomfortable due to the AU, I think many of the criticisms are unfair. A piece of media which is specifically designed to make people uncomfortable should not be criticized for that very reason. Avoid it all you want, that's completely reasonable! Never feel like your reasons for being uncomfortable are unwarrented. But I'm just saying that if you were to critique Silent Hill because it's themes of mental illness and character depictions made you uncomfortable, and that was a *negative*, it just seems a little weird to me.

This is all just my opinion, obviously I'm not THE definitive person on the matter. And I'm not saying anyone who has the AU blocked or anything should check it out. I'm just saying, many people seem to be judging it unfairly.

[meazalykov]

dance moms

laura freigang x dancer!reader

summary: after moving back to germany, to escape the chaos you've suffered in the states, you meet a photographer (who happens to be a footballer as well.)

a/n: if you don't know what the american reality show "dance moms" is, I'd do some basic research in order to understand the first part of this fic <3

growing up at the ALDC felt like being in a pressure cooker. 

you were only two years old when your mom, isla, moved the both of you from germany to pennsylvania in the united states. 

she put you in dance classes as soon as she could. at first, it was exciting—you loved the way your body could express emotions through movement. you loved gaining flexibility and having a routine. you loved performing and getting to put on pretty costumes. but that changed the moment dance moms came into the picture.

at just eleven years old, you were pulled into the chaotic world of reality TV. cameras followed your every move, every mistake. 

abby lee miller’s constant critiques weighed you down, her screaming echoing in your head long after rehearsals ended. she changed since the cameras started filming her. 

“you’ll never be good enough if you don’t push harder, y/n!” she’d shout during practice, her words biting deep into your skin like needles.

there were moments where you had solos. those were the dances you loved the most. you always scored very well and got on top of the pyramid whenever maddie wasn’t. 

sometime during season four, there was a significant moment that didn’t leave your mind for a while. 

you stood in the wings at a competition in san diego, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath after your solo. the adrenaline rushed through your veins, but it was dulled by the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

you’d stumbled on one of your turns—something that wasn’t like you at all. but it was there, clear as day, right in front of the judges and the audience. and now, you were about to face abby.

as soon as they announced the results, you knew it wasn’t going to be good. 

second place. you’d lost to maddie. again. but what made it worse was that you weren’t just up against anyone—this was a week where you were up against the candy apples. abby’s biggest rivals. 

this meant that her mood was already sour, and you knew this was going to tip her over the edge.

the second you stepped into the dressing rooms, abby’s gaze was already locked on you, her face a storm of frustration and anger. 

she didn’t even wait for everyone to sit down before coming at you.

“second place?” abby barked, her voice sharp as a whip. “second place, y/n? you know that’s not acceptable. not here!” 

you flinched but kept your head down, your heart racing. you wanted to explain—to say that the stumble was a mistake, something you couldn’t control—but you knew it wouldn’t matter. not to abby.

“what happened out there?” she demanded, sitting down in her chair, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. 

“you stumbled on a turn, y/n. a turn! something you should be perfect at by now.”

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. “i know, abby. i’m sorry. i—i just—”

“sorry isn’t good enough,” abby cut you off, her voice dripping with disappointment. “you don’t get to be sorry when you’re given this great opportunity! maddie would’ve never done that and her first place showed that!” 

the mention of maddie stung more than anything. it always felt like you were in her shadow, no matter how hard you worked. no matter how much you tried to prove yourself. 

abby’s golden girl could do no wrong, and you were left picking up the pieces when you didn’t measure up.

“you’re better than that,” abby continued, pacing back and forth in front of you. 

“you’re one of my best dancers, but today? you danced like an amateur. you embarrassed me, y/n. you embarrassed this entire team.”

her words hit you like a slap, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. you didn’t want to cry—not in front of abby, not in front of the other girls—but it was hard to hold it in.

“abby, i’m—”

“don’t say you’re sorry again,” she snapped, her voice rising. 

“i don’t want to hear it. i want you to do better. no more mistakes, no more excuses. if you want to be a star, you need to act like one. and today, you didn’t.”

you stood there, frozen, trying to keep your emotions in check as abby continued to berate you. 

it felt like the weight of the world was crushing you, and all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, abby huffed and shook her head. “go. i don’t want to look at you right now.”

with those final words, you turned and walked away to get ready for the group dance, your body feeling heavier with every step. 

backstage before the group, you caught maddie’s eye, and she gave you a small, sympathetic smile. but it didn’t make you feel any better. nothing could right now.

you wanted to scream, to cry, to ask your mom why she let you stay in this mess, why she let abby tear you down like this. 

your mom stood by you and seemed like your biggest supporter. but as the years passed and you became a fixture on the show, you started to wonder why she allowed it. 

why she let abby break you down, week after week. 

“mom, why do we keep doing this?” you asked one evening after a particularly brutal competition weekend. 

“why do you let her treat me like this?” 

“it’s for your future, y/n,” isla had said, eyes clouded with hope—or maybe guilt. 

“you’re going to be a star.”

but that wasn’t how you felt. you didn’t want to be a star anymore. 

after six seasons on dance moms, you were burnt out. drained. you’d lost your passion for dance, the thing that once gave you joy now filled with dread. 

when you turned sixteen, you’d had enough. 

“i can’t do this anymore,” you told your mom one night after another exhausting filming day. “i want out.”

isla had hesitated, but eventually, the both of you left the show. the cameras stopped rolling, but the damage had already been done. 

the chaos, the constant pressure to be perfect—it stripped you of any love you had for dancing. you couldn’t even look at a dance studio without feeling a knot form in your stomach. 

you grew distant from your mom too. it was hard to understand why she had put you through it. 

“why didn’t you just protect me?” you’d whispered one evening, tears filling your eyes. but isla didn’t have an answer that made sense.

by the time you turned 19 in 2019, you were desperate for a fresh start. you packed your things and moved back to frankfurt germany, your birthplace. 

germany felt different—calmer, quieter. your mother didn’t come back with you which relieved you.

it was exactly what you needed. 

over the next few years, you dove into therapy, trying to unpack the trauma of your childhood. it was slow, difficult work, but through it, you discovered a few other hobbies like photography, and ceramics. you went to university too.

and then, suddenly, almost unexpectedly, dance found its way back to you. 

therapy helped you see it differently—no longer as something tied to pain, but as something that had once been yours. something beautiful. 

by 2022, you were back in the studio, dancing again, feeling lighter than you had in years.

you built your own studio in a nice neighborhood in frankfurt. you weren’t a dance instructor now, maybe someday, but you used the space to practice or hire (emotionally available) dance instructors to help you.

one afternoon, while you were in the middle of a lyrical practice, your friend macy and her sister, sara, showed up at your studio.

the three of you had become close since you moved back to germany. 

macy went to your university before you both graduated. she had nice tan skin and long raven colored hair. 

her older sister sara is a footballer who plays for frankfurt frauen. sara was like an older sister to you, while macy was your confidant. 

“y/n, you’ve gotta hear this,” macy said, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

you wiped sweat from your forehead, raising an eyebrow. “what now?”

“sara’s photographer friend wants to take pictures of you, specifically, for her portfolio, she’s been keeping up with your instagram content!” macy explained. sara nodded in agreement.

“you know, someone who can capture those insane moves of yours,” sara chimed in with a laugh.

you hesitated for a moment, but to your own surprise, you agreed. “okay, sure. why not?”

both macy and sara looked shocked. 

“wow, that was easier than i thought it would be,” macy said, her eyes wide.

“yeah, thought we’d have to convince you a little more,” sara added with a chuckle.

two days later, you found yourself at a field location, waiting for the photographer. 

the sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the area, when you saw her—laura freigang. 

she was taller than you expected, with an easy smile and a camera slung over her shoulder. you couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was, and you made a mental note to ask sara about her later.

“you must be y/n, i’m laura” laura said, walking up to you.

“that’s me,” you replied, feeling a little flustered as her eyes met yours. 

the shoot started, and laura was immediately in her element, capturing your movements with film. she had a way of making you feel comfortable, encouraging you to move naturally. 

“that’s perfect, just like that,” she’d say, her voice soft but confident. the tone of her voice made you feel a certain type of way as well.

you danced freely, twirling and leaping in the open field, and every now and then, you’d catch her smiling at you from behind the camera. 

there was one moment where laura calls you out for something, 

“where are you from in america?” laura asked. 

this was during a water break after shooting yourself doing high kicks and pirouettes.

“i was born here, but i lived in pennsylvania after i turned two. for a while i lived in california but that was until 3 years ago, when i moved back here.” you swallowed, thinking about the distant memories of your childhood. 

“pennsylvania! i went to penn state for a while!” laura says, surprised. 

“that is so cool!”

afterwards, there was definitely some flirting going on—small comments, lingering looks. after the shoot wrapped up, laura lowered her camera, looking at you with a playful glint in her eyes. 

“you know, this was fun. thank you for doing this for me. we should do it again sometime… maybe over dinner?”

you blinked, caught off guard but quickly recovering. 

“are you asking me out on a date, laura freigang?”

she smirked. “i guess i am.”

you smiled. “okay, i’m in.”

two days later, you were sitting across from her at a cozy restaurant, the low hum of conversation filling the air. 

the two of you clicked instantly, talking about everything from the shoot to your different interests. halfway through the meal, you said something which confuses laura. 

“do you have other hobbies beside photography? you seem like a pretty busy woman.” you smirk. 

“i’m sorry?” laura’s eyebrows raise. 

your eyes widen, afraid that you said something that is offensive.

“wait i’m sorry– its just sara tells me that you’re a photographer so i wondered if you do other things. do you go to another uni here after you left penn state or if you do modeling or–” you pause as laura giggles. 

“i’m flattered that you think i am a model– but i play for frankfurt and the german national team with sara...”

your eyes widened in surprise. how did sara not tell you this? she just made it seem like laura was just a photographer in frankfurt.

“wait, seriously? you’re a footballer and a photographer?”

laura grinned. “yeah. i like to keep busy.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling more flustered than you’d like to admit. 

“that’s... really impressive,” you said, feeling a little shy under her gaze.

as time passed, you started going to laura’s games, cheering her on from the stands. 

your bond deepened with every date, every conversation, until one day, laura asked you to be her girlfriend inside of her living room.

the soft glow of the floor lamp laura has casting a warm light over her space. you sat on her couch, legs curled under you, a half-empty cup of tea resting on the table in front of you. 

you’d spent the evening like this, just talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. but now, a comfortable silence had settled between you, the kind that felt intimate without needing to be filled.

laura sat beside you, her arm resting along the back of the couch. you could feel the warmth of her presence next to you, and every so often, your hands would brush when one of you reached for something or shifted in your seat. 

each touch sent a small spark of electricity through you, a reminder of the feelings you’d been harboring for her since that photoshoot months ago.

“you’ve been quiet for a bit,” you finally said, glancing over at her, noticing the way her jaw clenched slightly, like she was trying to find the right words.

she looked at you, her eyes soft but searching. “yeah, i’ve just… been thinking,” she said quietly, her voice low and a little hesitant.

“thinking?” you asked, your heartbeat quickening just a little. you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind those light colored eyes of hers. “about what?”

she took a deep breath, turning her body slightly toward you. the air in the room shifted, something heavier settling between the two of you. “about you,” she said, her voice steady now, like she had finally made up her mind about what she wanted to say.

your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your chest tighten. "me?" you asked softly, not sure where this was going, but the intensity in laura's gaze was undeniable.

“yeah, you,” she repeated, her eyes not leaving yours. 

“we’ve spent a lot of time together these past few months, nearly everyday, and i’ve really gotten to know you. i didn’t expect to feel this way when i first met you at that shoot, but,” she trailed off, her hand moving to gently take yours, her thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “i can’t stop thinking about you.”

your heart raced as she spoke, her words settling in the space between you like a confession you’d been secretly waiting for but never expected to hear. 

“laura…” you started, but the words caught in your throat, your emotions tangled up in the moment.

“i know this might be a lot,” she said, her grip on your hand tightening just slightly, “but i really like you, y/n. i don’t want to keep dancing around it anymore.” she paused, her eyes softening as she looked at you, her vulnerability laid bare. 

you both giggled at her pun before she spoke, 

“can i be your girlfriend?”

“what wait?” you were surprised. 

“will you be my girlfriend!?”

for a moment, you couldn’t speak. your mind raced with thoughts of every moment you’d shared, the way she made you feel without even trying, the way her presence made the world seem quieter, more bearable. 

you’d known this was going to happen someday, but hearing her say it out loud made it all feel more real than you’d imagined.

“yes,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. but the word hung in the air like a promise, and the smile that broke across laura’s face made your heart feel like it might burst. “yes, i’d love to.”

her smile widened, and she leaned in, her forehead resting against yours for a moment, the closeness of her sending a shiver down your spine. 

"yay," she murmured softly, her breath warm against your skin.

your fingers intertwined with hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to let go of the fears, the doubts, the baggage from your past. 

in that moment, it was just you and laura, your hearts laid bare, and the quiet understanding that something beautiful was beginning between the two of you.

you chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to look at laura fully. “how about i cook for you? tomorrow night?” you suggested, your eyes sparkling with excitement. 

"i’m pretty good in the kitchen."

laura raised an eyebrow, smirking. "oh really? a dancer, a university graduate, and a chef? you're just full of surprises."

you grinned, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “you’ll have to find out for yourself.” 

and as she pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand, you couldn’t help but feel like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

it didn’t take long for fan pages to catch on. suddenly, everyone was talking about how one of their favorite childhood dancers was now dating a german footballer. 

fans were floored and happy for you-- but to you, it was surreal in the best way. 

as you sat next to laura after one of her games, her hand wrapped around yours, you couldn’t help but think that despite everything—despite the chaos of your past—you’d finally found happiness. 

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

a/n: wrote this two months ago but i wasn’t sure if i liked the writing and the concept😭 ill still post it anyways

[mavcancees]

compilation post of commentary youtubers talking about dream, no drummyaches edition !

note, i might not exactly like 100% of the things said in these videos BUT they ultimately redeemed dream to a very large audience

starting with i think is the most viewed video right now, Will Dream's Response Actually Fix Anything? by Lessons in Meme Culture. it's 2:40 minutes long and the point is simply to open conversation about him being able to successfully redeem himself, but it has a lovely comment section if you want to scroll through that

Dream Just Responded To Everything by AugustTheDuck, had already spoken about Dream pretty positively, lovely guy, lovely summary [ touches earpiece the main studio is telling me august actually was a dream hater but turned around recently, so noting that down ]

Dream's Response was Perfect, But... by EntLaiser, who previously made a video actually speaking negatively of Dream, completely changed his opinion and talked about how meme culture is being used to justify mass harassment, along with being nice to Dream stans and defending them

Pyrocynical made a video. its bad. don't watch it. he gets cooked in the comments though so that's okay. Acheeto also made a video but i don't like the guy so i'm not linking that either, but it was a good video

Dream Finally Responded To The Allegations by sensitive soci3ty. i really like this video but i especially like the comments that bring up a lot of great points, it was refreshing scrolling through them

LIES! by Omni. Omni is really big on the commentary community so his input is valued, this video is long and goes through a lot of unrelated stuff because it's a news segment, but i linked to the timestamp he talks about Dream. it is long, it is thorough, he READS THE DESCRIPTION which i haven't seen anyone do, pretty good

Dream Might Actually Be Innocent by Saverino. this guy is like, the perfect representation of "i only consumed Dream content through social media for years", the most passive onlooker in the world. and his video is awesome, he took a lot of notes, he resumed Dream's video pretty well, and i feel the way he thinks of Dream is how people will look at dream from now on

Dream Finally Responded by Dolan Dark. it's a slob but it's fucking Dolan Dark and he says he believes he's innocent so who cares W for us

other creators we already know and knew they believed Dream, Hot Sauce Beats did a live reaction and so did Nate Alyn if you'd like to go and support them

Dream's Response Was Actually Good by Saamuel. dream hater admitting he was wrong. all is good in the world

Dream Finally Responded To The Allegations by Optimus. don't watch this video lol. he says a bunch of stupid shit, his comments call him out for it, but i am linking it because this guy is huge on the community, a lot of people were waiting on this video on twitter, and he's very clear on saying the allegations are fake, along with shaming twitter antis for their behaviour

Dream's Response Wasn't Good Enough by luhrix specifically talks about the reaction from antis on twitter to the video and how unreasonable some expectations are when it comes to responding to allegations

Does Dream's Response Make Him Innocent? by Blissolic who VERY BRAVELY calls out coyglone ( the guy behind the dreamwastalen account ) for being a piece of shit

Dream Responded... by Repzion. excellent video no notes, less about dream himself and more a critique of how people consume serious topics as "drama" and farm engagement through it

I Was In Dream's Video by orangepeanut. it's kind of ass but he is in dream's video ! he's the "dream sucked his own dick" guy. he says sorry for baiting and actually apologises to dream which is kind of funny, and he does say dream is innocent. just noting it down for reference

Dream's Response Was GREAT! by TekuToji. another excellent video, nice summary. he did thought the poki xqc dms were real but he corrected himself on the comments lol

Dream Has Returned ( and why you should be excited ) by PurpleMatter. sweet video ! go leave a nice comment :D

this is a different one as it is a full reaction, but it is by Kenji, a VERY famous vtuber, and he was awesome about it and called out his chat several times when they spoke misinformed shit. it's very fun and i'm glad a completely different audience now has a positive view of Dream

[kozachenko]

Don't really have much to post again aside from some more sketching that I've done recently, this time of Reimu and Marisa, mainly because I just need a starting point as to how I would go about drawing them in my style (which is why the poses are so boring lol).

Artist's Notes;

So I mentioned in the last post how I've been wanting to experiment with how I wanted to draw Reimu, and I then got an idea for Marisa. So I wanted to try and contrast the two of them with each other via their shape language and body types. For scale I also put some numbers on the side just as a visualizing aid so I can imagine them easier. I wanted to make Reimu very tall and lanky and Marisa to be short and rounder. Also, this provides some interesting contrast in their shape language, and Marisa ends up being more round and Reimu ends up feeling more sharp.

I think what I'm most worried about is mainly that I don't 100% know if these two drawings still...feel like Reimu and Marisa. MMaybe because I made so many changes to both of them, but I feel like it's mostly in their faces. I kept the little personal touches that would add when I would draw them in the past (i.e. Reimu's tiny eyebrows and Marisa's freckles) but I dunno, maybe it's in the eyes? Like, Marisa's bigger eyes and eyebrows are definitley ideas that I want to play with in the future, but Reimu.... I dunno, I like the idea of her face shape in this drawing specifically, and I defnitely feel like I got closer to the monilid eye look I was trying to achieve in my previous attempt at drawing her eyes, but something still feels off with her.

When I drew Marisa, I really wanted to explore some other ideas for her body type, mainly in contrast to Reimu, so I wanted to give her a fuller figure and make her shorter than Reimu. I do feel like her eyes could be a bit sharper as eyes look maybe a little too innocent for Marisa, but I do still want to use these eyes I drew for her as a springboard for later attempts. I made some adjustments to her dress so that they would look good on the body type I gave her. I also need to draw shoes more because those boots....I just, I don't even know, I probably just need to draw that specific body type more wearing those types of boots or find references because I am not happy with how they turned out. Out of the two of them, Marisa was definitely my favourite to draw. I really enjoying drawing different body types when I get the chance to, and I feel like it's important to try your best to expand your variety when it comes to drawing the human body, I'm glad that I'm comfortable with drawing different body types. I do still have a long ways to go with this as I just need to do it more often and still need to do this but with different body shapes and weights and how to combine those two aspects to create unique body types and silhouettes. Also, please feel free to give me any critiques to how these two designs turned out, I remember that I drew Reimu when it was late at night and spent the entire day on Marisa so I defnitely feel like there's some things to critque here.

I'll be honest... I don't really like how Reimu turned out too much. Not to say it's a bad drawing, but I dunno. I think I just need to draw Reimu more, but she's honestly the hardest character to translate into my style. The thing is, I have an idea for her in my head but I just have a hard time putting it to paper. It's not like I've never drawn her before, in fact, aside from the height I really like how she looked in this piece of fanart (why tf did I make her so short in that piece) I did a while back despite the fact that I've imrpoved on my faces a lot since then (again, I do want to try my lineless style again, I just need to find the chance to do so), maybe because that was the drawing that provided me with some of my ideas on how to draw Reimu in my style? I do think I'm definitely in the rut of the "not knowing how to draw a character's face in your style" phase that I'm sure many fan-artists go through, so with enough drawings I'll get through it eventually, just gotta suffer through several more hours of trial and error though so yipeeeeeeee... As for things I do like, Reimu's hair turned out nicely. I did my usual technique for drawing Reimu's hair and then pasted the lineart layer underneath the main lineart layer and changed the colour to give it some extra pizzaz, and I do like how Reimu and Marisa contrast each other a lot. I just need to find a way to make them feel more like themselves while still taking liberties with their designs in my style.

Even if these are just sketches and me laying the groundwork for how I want to draw these two in the future, I still want to improve how I draw them a lot (also I don't like how much these two look like teenagers, I see both of them as being in their late 20s-early 30s and it just doesn't read like that and I definitely need to do more studies in the future to get them right in my style).

[neve-rook-datv]

The Trouble Within - Neve Gallus’ personal notes - Part 1

Disclaimer : This story is inspired by fan critiques and discussions regarding the romance dynamics in Dragon Age: The Veilguard, particularly around the evolution of Neve’s relationship with Rook. Many fans felt some frustration with Neve’s hesitance to fully engage in the romance with Rook, and her reserved demeanor. This piece explores why Neve seems to keep her distance despite the intensity of her feelings and reimagines her interactions with Lucanis, whose light-hearted flirtation serves here as a facade to mask her true emotions toward Rook.

Arlathan Forest is a place that almost feels alive—ancient, watchful. The trees arch overhead, their leaves filtering the light into hues of deep green, amber, and burnt red. The ground is blanketed with fallen leaves that shift in color as the sun moves, and the air is thick with the earthy scent of moss and damp wood. It’s hauntingly beautiful, yet there’s a weight to the silence here, as if the forest is holding its breath, waiting.

And then there’s her.

Rook moves ahead of me, weaving through the trees with an ease that feels almost unnatural, like she belongs here in a way I don’t. The dappled light catches on her face, illuminating her profile in vibrant, natural hues, casting shadows that shift across her skin as she steps in and out of patches of sunlight. I find myself watching the way the colors dance around her, highlighting the quiet strength in her posture, the relaxed yet sharp way she holds herself.

Something about the way she walks—confident, steady, each step deliberate yet unhurried—makes it impossible to look away. Hints of amber and evergreen seem to cling to her, as if the forest itself recognizes her presence, drawn to her as much as… well, as much as I am.

I don’t know when this pull began. At first, I told myself it was curiosity, a fleeting interest in her reckless nature, in the way she throws herself into danger without hesitation. But now, watching her in this light, the forest colors framing her like some figure from an ancient tale, I feel something deeper—something I dare not name.

She turns, catching my gaze, and there’s that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “Something on your mind?” she teases, breaking the silence and pulling me back to reality.

I force a laugh, a quick, dismissive sound to mask the way my chest tightens. “Just keeping an eye out. No harm in staying vigilant.” But the truth is, I’m mesmerized. The word Trouble slips through my mind again, and it feels like a warning—to her, to me. She’s trouble in every way, and yet… I can’t bring myself to look away.

The deeper we move into the forest, the darker and richer the light becomes, casting Rook in a way that feels almost deliberate, as though the forest itself is revealing something hidden in her. There’s a quiet strength in her gaze, a softness I rarely see, and each time she steps into a beam of light, she seems to command the world around her without even trying. I don’t think she realizes the effect she has on me, the way her presence keeps me unsteady, questioning everything I thought I knew.

Calling her Trouble feels like my last line of defense, the only way I have left to protect myself. It’s a label that’s meant to keep her at arm’s length, to remind me not to get too close. But as that barrier slips, I feel something inside me begin to unravel, like a cord stretched too tight, finally giving way. I can’t stop myself from looking her way, each glance feeding a pull I don’t fully understand, one that unsettles and captivates me all at once. The way she moves, how the light wraps around her, draws me in deeper, makes her seem almost otherworldly, untouchable. And yet, in these moments, I feel closer to her than I’d ever let myself admit.

Lucanis keeps things light, and I remind myself that’s all I need. His flirtations are easy, harmless—a game that lets me forget the weight of everything else, if only for a moment. With him, there’s no need to dig deep or question anything; we can laugh, exchange glances, play at something that never asks for more. It’s uncomplicated, a distraction that feels almost safe in its simplicity.

But even as I tell myself that’s enough, I can’t help feeling a pull toward something beyond that ease, something that makes my heart race in a way Lucanis never could. And that’s when I feel her presence, like a quiet tension at the edges of my thoughts, impossible to ignore. And I… I am left to watch, caught between the fear of what this means and the thrill of simply being near her.

I wanted to keep things simple, to call her Trouble and pretend that’s all she is—a distraction, an annoyance. But standing here in the heart of Arlathan, surrounded by ancient colors and silent trees, I can feel my resolve slipping, the walls I’ve built crumbling with each glance, each step.

She doesn’t know, of course. How could she? She’s focused on the path ahead, oblivious to the chaos she’s causing in my mind. But as the reds and greens cast their final light on her face, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m losing this battle—that “Trouble” is no longer a warning, but a confession.

Edit: Wording, phrasing, flow.

[snowyquokka]

cw: mentions of s/h scars, insecurities, hurt/comfort, soft chan, 3rd person fem pov, swearing, mentions of body worship, small caps on purpose (please let me know if i missed any)

wc: 0.7k

a.n - HUGE DISCLAIMER. please please refrain from reading if you’re sensitive to any of the topics above. this is meant to be a vent post and NOT glorification of s/h, mental illnesses, ect. feel free to scroll if necessary. and if you want/need to talk my dms are always open. i love you all <3

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

looking at herself in the mirror, y/n sighs. she ghosts her fingertips over the lines of scar tissue littering her outer thigh, each one a reminder of every time she’s struggled.

each one proof that she overcame them. that she survived.

even though she knows this she can’t help but critique them, and herself.

how could she have been so weak, so fragile that she let her thoughts and feelings consume her life so much to the extent that she broke.

fortunately for her, there had always someone there that picked up the shards of her soul that had been scattered around. he glued them back together with his love and overtime handed her heart back in one piece, almost as if it never was broken in the first place.

“hi baby,” chris greets as rests his chin on her shoulder, dragging her out of her thoughts.

“hey,” she mumbles, continuing to run her fingers over the length of a particularly large scar. her boyfriend’s hands move to hold her hips, afraid that if he lets go she’ll slip through his fingers.

“what did i tell you about that, hm?” his voice is low and gentle as he scans over her body. the same body that he quite literally worships, always reassuring her of his adoration.

y/n sighs and pinches her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to look at him as she replies, “criticizing them is almost as bad as creating them.”

chris pulls y/n closer before whispering into her ear, as if they weren’t the only ones in the room. “exactly. now look at me, baby.” y/n shakes her head, feeling too embarrassed.

“baby girl. look at me.” chris manages to keep his composure despite feeling about a dozen emotions at once. though, it’s not the first time she’s been like this and they both know that it won’t be the last. he’s never minded it, actually, and never will. he would rather her talk about her urges then act on them. however, he’d never let that happen as long as he’s alive.

y/n lifts her gaze to meet his in the mirror, watching as his lips curl into his familiar, warm smile.

“there she is,” he murmurs, “can i?” chris’s hand creeps down from her waist to her leg where her shorts are raised, her insecurities on display for him.

she nods as she leans back against his chest. she follows his fingers as they trace over the largest scar tainting her skin.

“no matter how many times i see them, i’m never going to stop loving them. loving you. but you know this already, don’t you baby?” y/n nods. of course she knows, chris doesn’t give her a moment to doubt- or even forget his words. and he never will.

“you’re strong, y’know that? you are so very strong. and i know you hate hearing it but it’s the truth. you persevered and even though it pains me to admit it, you did it all on your own. that takes guts, baby.” chris buries his face in her neck, placing soft kisses on the column of her throat.

they stay like this for a while: his arms wrapped around her as he sways back and forth. he finally breaks the silence after he turns her to face him. he cups her jaw before placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“c’mon. let me run you a bath, yeah? i’ll make you some tea too.” y/n nods and smiles at him.

“thank you,” she laces their fingers together.

“for what, baby?”

“for loving me,” chris frowns slightly and pulls her into a comforting embrace, engulfing her in his warmth.

“you don’t ever need to feel the need to thank me for that, okay? i’ll always be here.”

whoever said that you can’t love somebody else until you love yourself was a fucking liar. chris is walking proof of this

[nastasya--filippovna]

So I finally finished Rivals

so here's my review followed by my episode-by-episode, PowerPoint presentation, Danny Motta style reaction (which no one asked for)

⚠️so massive spoilers heads-up⚠️

WHAT A WATCH! for the first time in, well, forever I did not binge the show immediately after it came out. I gave it time. Watched one episode each day and I think I liked the experience! I remembered a lot more stuff that I do when I binge things. But that's not what I'm here to talk about. Pfft let'g get into it huh!

So I read the book like ages ago when the show was first announced and though I remembered some stuff from the plot, I mostly let myself be shocked by it. Would I have watched it if David Tennant wasn't in it. Hmmmm? Probably not!

I mean this show....ugh... man there's no one word to describe it, is there! It's not all romp and pomp although it may seem like it. The strangest part is that for a show that's dealing with some really dark matter it (for some darn reason) refuses to take itself seriously (as @davidtennantgenderenvy wonderfully put it). I mean one minute we're dealing with woman rights, the other Matador Ole is playing while Rupert and Cameron stare each other like that.

I think it's unfair that the media constantly limited the premise of the show to its sexual aspects. The story is a clear socio-political critique of the power politics, sexual politics, and elite culture of the time and it's still quite reflective of the same things in our time too. In fact, the very fact that it disguises itself as a period piece makes it all the more applicable to our time. While watching the show I felt as if each character represents a different segment of the upper class; like Antonio Gramsci said the capitalist class is not a unified group. We have Rupert who represent the political elite, the ones that come from powerful families and then we have Declan who's the intellectual elite, Tony who's one of those new-money business elite people who will never really fit into this cult, Fred the technology millionaires, and Monica who represents that fading, waning part of old British aristocracy that was all about decorum and honour and values and virtue, something that is no longer valued in all the new kinds of elites that are springing up.

It's a very turbulent time. We're on the brisk of turning the world into the way we have it now, pulling it out of another era that is now fading away.

Rupert.... um man! Alex Hassell should be banned from playing this character because he injects more charisma in it that he deserves. I almost started liking him. And it's weird to me that his character development is fine, it's great it's wonderful, he goes from a careless heartless scoundrel to a nice caring person. The only problem I have here is what he did to Taggie in the beginning. How can someone ever possibly expect a woman to forgive a man for s3xual abuse or harassment. That's like major rizz-killer. But his friendship with Lizzie was one of the things I really liked. Made him seem so much more human.

Talking of Lizzie. My girl. My favourite character. Although if I'm being honest EVERY single woman in the show was impeccable. Every one of them ten thousand times more complicated than any male character. We need more women written by women. Sarah looks like a dumb blonde but she's not. She's just a woman who's trying to make something of her life in this male dominated world. Cameron Cook. Absolute goddess. She's powerful. She knows what she wants and how to get it. We just don't have enough ambitious women in media portrayed as "good". Ambitious women are always shown as bitches. And she's not passive in regard to her sexuality. It's her weapon and she uses it with her full agency. Monica, what can I even say about her. Perfectly embodies the crumbling grace of old aristocratic families. Beautiful performance, beyond words. Maud. Oh boy. I lowkey hated her for a bit but her last scene was so amazing.

Aaaaaaand Tony. Tell you what they should NOT let David Tennant play bad people. 'Cause he's gonna do it so good it will give you nightmares for ages. I love that he is always in command of the kind of response he wants to elicit from the audience in regard to his character especially when playing an antagonist. I mean if we compare them, Des makes you feel like you're gaping at the fucking abyss, Tom Kendrick is just awful and scary like a bad father, Kilgrave is (like the character's personality) the kind of performance where you want to hate this person bcs you know they're awful but something about them is sucking you in and you hate that feeling but you can't stop it somehow (cz that's what Kilgarve does!). For Tony he knew what he was doing. He knows how to turn on maximum rizz and then turn it off. He reels in the viewer, making them think oh this is the most charismatic human being I have ever seen (just like Tony does to other characters) and then he strikes when you're in deep.

Another interesting bit about this character was how (esp in eps 7 and 8) there's bits where you think that maybe he's not altogether bad, that maybe there's a bit of kindness and love hiding there somewhere. But then you realise there isn't. All that tenderness is deliberate. He does it on purpose because it draws people in. He cannot love because he doesn't have it in him. Everything is, for him, about social status and winning. He doesn't love his wife. He doesn't love Cameron. He just wants to have them because she feels like he didn't have the things he deserved at some point so now he's gotta have everything. Like he says "just let me have this one"; it's all about winning. Heard someone call him a cartoon villain. Nope guys he's very real. Also the only time you feel like he's being genuine is when he's being a sopping wet pathetic mess in the end.

And he's also very relatable to some extent. I get that what he goes through. His insecurities and whatever complex he has. I do. I go to a university with rich kids from filthy rich families. My parent's parents weren't rich. They just made their fortunes in the last generation and even though I get to be in the same circles as these rich pricks, I feel always (or they make me feel) left out. Like I'm an imposter. Like I could never really have any real class. And that itches a very particular itch in my brain.

As an afterthought, I think you can measure men's personalities and worthiness in terms of DT characters: On a scale of Alec Hardy to Tony Baddingham what kind of man are You!"🫵

On the whole it was a great show. Lovely music. Loved the introduction of each character and how it just lets you know what kind of person this guy/gal/person is! Wonderful cinematography and visuals. Gripping sub-plots. An what an ending! Perfect cliffhanger. And tbh I'd really like it if they left it here. To me a good story doesn't always need to be resolved. There's something to be said for those little ambiguities and uncertainties in life and all the thigs left unsaid. [and if someone is really anxious they can go read the book] Remarkable watch. ★★★★★ (5/5)

And now the reaction!

(Tap for full picture and better quality)

Anyways, here's some memes I made while watching Rivals

Episode 5 Live Reaction:

[utdrmv-confession-box]

Transcript: Oh cool the sans au fans are already misreading my confession in the most "piss on the poor way " possible! Yay!

Anyways to clarify- horror sans lobotomizing alphys doesn't make the character abelist- the reaction to it as something she 'deserved' is abelist. I'm talking about the fan reaction and the authors role in choosing this as something to base her character around. *authors can be unintentionally offensive but their writing choices should be allowed to be critiqued.*

Horror sans and the rest of the horror tale cast 'going insane' as they are slowly starved and being turned into actual murderers is an abelist writing decision in the same way movies like Texas chainsaw massacre rely on abelist tropes to demonize people with mental and physical disabilities. Again- you can like horrortale- I like horrortale- I don't think this was the authors original intention either- it's just really REALLY infuriating how you cant seem to point these things out without people jumping to fictional characters defense.

Rocky horror picture show is a wonderful piece of queer media and is widely beloved- but it still uses transphobic tropes to tell its story. It's a good piece of queer media but it's still transphobic and I'd like to be able to idk TALK about the issues in the ut au fandom without people purposefully misreading the things I am saying because it happens to involve their blorbo.

Horror sans the character is not abelist. But the writing choices surrounding the work he comes from uses abelist tropes to tell the story and I think it's lame how incapable this fandom is of writing 'morally neutral characters' without falling back on hurtful tropes and stereotypes.

We can talk about how papyrus and/ blueberry are infantalized for having autistic traits but I can't talk about dust sans being a textbook example of the 'serial killer schizophrenic'????? Plz don't tag as au negative this isint me talking about how much I dislike sans aus, I do like them I just don't like how I can't talk about my dislike of aus that use abelist tropes and don't even deconstruct them. Dust sans isint a deconstruction of negative tropes affecting people with schizophrenia..he just is those tropes! Played straight!

-actually affected by this crap irl anon who is tired of this lame ass fandom perpetuating weird tropes like their lives depend on it. (Sorry mod 😅)

[gfthe-fearsome-foursome]

Ford, question to you: What is your opinion on FNAF?

“Five Nights at Freddy’s? Oh, don’t get me started unless you want a full lecture! It’s not just jump scares and creepy animatronics— it’s a labyrinthine masterpiece of storytelling layered with metaphor and a mystery that would make even the sharpest detectives rip their hair out! God knows figuring out the games had me in knots for weeks!"

"First off, think about the concept of survival: you’re this helpless security guard, stuck in a tiny office, forced to fend off animatronics that are more than just spooky mascots— seriously! You could take it literally or look at them as manifestations of guilt, regret, and unresolved trauma! The entire franchise is a thesis on consequences."

"Take the lore— oh, the lore!— a deep dive into the psyche of William Afton, this utterly complex character who’s not just a villain, but the embodiment of obsession and self-destruction. His crimes? Literal and metaphorical ghosts that haunt him, and us! The animatronics aren’t just killer robots; they’re the spirits of lost children, seeking justice or revenge, depending on how you look at it."

"Then there’s the pizzeria itself— it’s a façade! A cheerful place masking a horror show beneath, symbolizing how people bury dark truths under layers of fun and nostalgia. Oh, and don’t forget the sheer meta brilliance! The player, stuck in a cycle of fear and repetition, mirrors the inescapable guilt and failure of the story’s characters!"

"And the theories! Goodness, the theories! Are the crying child and the bite victim the same? How do we solve Foxy's puzzle in the employee logbook? How does the timeline even fit together? Scott Cawthon has turned this franchise into a living, breathing conspiracy board where every detail— a picture on the wall, a snippet of dialogue— could be the key to unraveling the story, or just a red herring to mess with us!"

"And symbolically? The series plays on humanity’s innate fear of being watched, of losing control, and of the monsters lurking in the places we thought were safe. It’s a chef’s kiss of psychological horror, capitalist critique, and existential dread! And don’t even get me started on the music box motif— pure genius, the way it ties time, tension, and inevitability together."

"I even started playing piano again to learn the score of Georges Bizet's "Les Toreadors"! It's where Freddy's jingle comes from— but that's not important!"

"Every detail is meticulously crafted, and the Internet? Oh, the theories there are like a hydra— cut one down, and three more pop up! FNaF isn’t just a game; it’s a modern mythos, a digital ghost story that keeps evolving, daring us to piece together the puzzle while it stares us down with glowing eyes from the shadows!”

"Oh! Uhm— sorry! I think I may have gone a bit overboard... I hope this answers your question though!"

Blank template under the cut in case anyone wants to use it LOL

[suugarbabe]

a little one shot based off this request

pairing: Mattheo Riddle x reader

word count: ~700

warnings: mentions of weight, ed tendencies

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose at you looked at the envelope in your hands. Your mother made a habit of charming her letters to read allowed to you once they’ve opened and you just weren’t in the mood to hear what you were sure was only ridicule and critique about how disappointed you were making her. Your parent’s expectations were high to say the least. You thanked Merlin for your sorting into Slytherin, hoping that keeping that legacy would at least have them showing some sort of affection, but alas you were given a letter listing more expectations now that you’ve met a previous one. 

You swallowed, finally getting the courage to tear the seal. As soon as it was broken the letter finished opening on its own, folding into a pair of disapproving lips that strongly resembled your mum. You closed your eyes, ready to bar the message. “Y/n…hope you’re doing well,” your mother’s voice rang through the room as you rolled your eyes. “Your father and I got your most recent marks. We were disappointed to see you let that mudblood best you yet again, it really would be nice if you put in some effort with your studies.” You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. You were second in your class, only behind Hermione Granger who, very obviously, was the smartest witch to come out of your generation. She was actually a sweet girl, and your mother’s use of the derogatory term turned your stomach. 

You had hoped that was the gist of the letter, but your mother’s voice continued, “Your father and I also received the latest Hogwarts Herald. The photo they used of you from the last quidditch match really was awful, seems like you’ve quite a bit…larger than when you left this fall. Please remember to pace yourself at meals, chew at least twenty times before you swallow. It’ll trick your mind to think you’re fully, trust me. You’ll thank me for it later. Also, please remember to pack your nicer clothing when you come home for Holiday. You know how important those parties are for your father.” With that the letter floated down to your desk, reverting back to a simple piece of parchment. 

You let out a shuttered breath, not even aware you were holding it in. Your eyes brimming with tears. “Y/n/n…” you turn your head at the sound of Mattheo’s voice, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand before standing up, trying to compose yourself. “Oh, hey Teo, what’s up?” He looked at you with sad eyes, “Was that your mum?” You nodded, putting on a smile the best you could, “Yeah, she’s, erm, just really passionate about her beliefs. No big deal, how much, uh, how much did you happen to hear?” Mattheo walked closer to you, “Heard that she wants you to starve yourself, why on earth would she say something like that?” 

He went to place his hands on your hips, but you pushed them away. You walked over to your bed, sitting on the edge. Mattheo turned in his spot, “You know what she says isn’t true, don’t you, love?” You shrugged your shoulders, unsure of yourself. “Princess, you are so absolutely breathtaking. You are so strong, one of the toughest beaters I know, you’re the reason we won the last five games, that’s why they took that photo of you.” He was standing in front of you now, holding your hands in his. He brought one up to his lips, kissing your palm, then the inside of your wrist before guiding you to wrap your hand around his neck. “Every curve of your body,” his hands roaming up your sides now, “Merlin, I’m so obsessed with you.” His forehead rested against yours, noses brushing, “Don’t listen to her cruel words, because if I had it my way I’d worship you, every part of you, every night, every day.” He tilted your chin up, connecting his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, gentle, like he was breathing you in. He broke apart, a little sooner than you would have liked. He then walked around, climbing onto the bed behind you, “C’mere, let’s lay down. I wanna keep telling you how perfect you are.” His arms stretched out and you immediately climbed into his embrace. You spent the rest of the night like that, wrapped in his arms.

[canichangemyblogname]

Great. The rabid shippers are once again trying to turn this (re-hashed) “fetish discourse” around onto queer men. “The faggots are the REAL fetishizers”— because apparently it’s 1963 again, and a man liking a man is an unhealthy and irrational reverence; an obsession. This originally started out with us pointing out our own invisibility in fan spaces and talking about how many people in fandom who ARE NOT queer men speak over us, write off our lived realities, and rely on harmful real-world rhetoric about us to malign our visibility while building their fan community on our sexualized bodies and their fantasies of our lives. They build their relationship with media exclusively through an obsession with m/m relationships, and—perhaps predictably—then trample over us when we ask for respect.

I suppose part of what’s most frustrating is that when we, rightfully, point out that this—and similar rhetoric— is homophobic, an unfortunate not-infrequent response has been “Pfts— but I’m queer,” as if that excludes someone from being a piece of shit. You all do realize that being part of a protected class does not prevent you from contributing to systems and spreading ideas that harm those in other protected classes or the same protected class, right? “I experience an axis of marginalization, therefore I could not possibly contribute to a system that harms me and others like me,” certainly doesn’t hold up to any scrutiny, not just because it’s untrue, but also because its use here functions as a thought-terminating fallacy, designed to end the debate with a cliché rather than address the point put forth: your homophobia. It is also an Irrelevant Conclusion Fallacy, as the argument that members of a marginalized class are more likely to be sympathetic to members of that same class is certainly valid, and could be argued, but this conclusion does not address the issue in question: your homophobia. It may also be characterized as an Argument from Incredulity, where you cannot imagine that a queer person could be queerphobic, so it must be untrue. Which, of course, I have all seen people point out.

However, now, as if on queue, the next most frequent “come back” is, “So you just want women to shut up and take it? You want to silence queer women?” 1.) The people saying and doing this shit aren’t all women, 2.) The people saying and doing this shit aren’t all queer, 3.) What lead people to call out your post wasn’t anyone’s identity; it was the contents of the post, you are now using identity to shield yourself from accountability, and 4.) This is a strawman fallacy being used to distract from the original critique: your homophobia. It is also an Ad Hominen attack being used to move the focus from your homophobia to the implication that your critic is motivated by misogyny to critique you.

Although, this “come back” is more of a “case in point” at this point when the original argument was about how fans who do not live as queer men (or those adjacent) do their damnedest to speak over and discount the lived realities of queer men (and those adjacent) to instead center our visibility and our representation around the preferences, pleasures, and desires of women. Like— y’all do realize that what started a lot of this “discourse” months ago was a post that quite literally said that mlm visibility/representation has always been about and centered women and their desires in relationships with men, as well as a post where a woman said that if she ever saw a man flirt with another man in public, she’d shoot him, right? You know this, yes?