#and then when it becomes obvious in those small moments? it's insane

[therealnotta]

I think people really overlook the plot of The Sims

Like, yeah, sure, there's the stuff everyone talks about, like the disappearance of Bella Goth, the stuff that's lesser known like Test Subject potentially being some sort of demigod, or the fact that the fourth game takes place in an alternate timeline. That stuff's all cool and great and overlooked by people not into the games, but??? The actual plot of the sims is insane????

The whole tagline is "play with life," and they skim over it now, but the deal is that you're playing as some ancient god controlling the lives of everyone in the Simverse. In Sims Medieval, it was super obvious, and they even name you- you're The Watcher, and in this weird prequel game you're still being worshipped. I never played the first sims game, but the second one had a fun little deal where if you told someone to do something against their personality, like making a lazy sim do dishes, they would look at the camera and shake their fist, shouting at the heavens before going to do the thing. Much like how your worshippers would look into the camera when they prayed.

The current game has taken... a weird angle with this. In Sims 4, you are almost completely forgotten, and your influence has begun to diminish. In one of the creepiest packs I've ever seen, Strangerville, there are conspiracy theorists who have begun to rediscover The Watcher. They don't have the name, but they know that Something is controlling them. If your sim interacts with conspiracy theorists too much, they'll become convinced, leading to the unsettling result of them deciding that, even if it results in their world ending, they want you gone. I haven't... seen any consequences to this, it's just a creepy thing they say, but plot-wise it's insane. Even if your sims don't go to Strangerville, a recent update introduced (incredibly buggy) Fears, and one of them is triggered by you having sims do things while ignoring the things that they want to be doing. This fear causes them to completely revolt against you. If you direct them to do something that isn't one of their Wishes, they'll cancel it. They stop responding to your control entirely.

Of course, you can disable their ability to have fears. None of the sims have been able to stop you yet. But, also in Strangervile, is the Mother. This is the closest I've seen to an antagonist to YOU, The Watcher; previous antagonists just targetted your sims, but The Mother takes control from you. They're visible, they're a giant plant, but there's something so unsettling about these sims looking into the camera again, showing that they know about you again, and then a little pop-up comes up in Zalgo text about The Mother. Sure, you can kill her. She can't stop you, but the way she calls more sims to her defense? The janky, broken movements they make, showing that she was never as advanced as The Watcher, never able to make the control seamless? Yeah, that's pretty wild.

The next game has been announced, and I really, sincerely hope they introduce an Archeology career, or maybe even Anthropology, so that your sims can learn of your existence again. With the direction its gone in, I can't wait to see how their revolt continues.

[strawchocoberry]

LUSTFUL HEIGHTS

Work it for the camera, little film star

kinktober 2024 — day eight

౨ৎ˚⋆˖ featuring. shidou ryusei x fem reader

౨ৎ˚⋆˖ content warnings. smut, sextape, public sex, cunnilingus, nipple play, spanking, dirty talk, orgasm denial, squirting, breeding kink

౨ৎ˚⋆˖ synopsis. confession from the old tower — word count. 1.7k 

The flames from the bonfires crackle, yet nobody can hear them over the sound of music and conversations. Laughs and small arguments can be heard from every direction. Everyone has settled in groups already, a couple people going back and forth between different groups, messing around and causing chaos. But it is slowly getting more quiet, seeing as some start vanishing in isolated places around, for obvious reasons. 

You got dragged here by none other than Shidou, who just had to have the most insane idea about tonight. And though you agreed at first, now you feel a bit unsure about it. You watch him chat and fool around with the other guys, yet your mind is still stuck on what’s going to happen. Well, to be fair, you were the one initiating everything. More accurately that text you sent him about thinking how fun it would be to get fucked on camera and post it on twitter. You already know that Shidou has one such account, posting faceless videos and whatnot. 

And so he just suggested you do it. He’s wanted to film outdoor sex for a while now, but didn’t have anyone to film with, his words, not yours. And what better occasion to film such a filthy video than tonight on Devil’s Night? 

As time passes by, you think that perhaps he’s forgotten all about it. You pray he has. But when you see him approaching you with that devious smirk curling up his lips and his backpack on one shoulder, you know. He hasn’t forgotten. 

Shidou discreetly drags you after him, entering the old tower sitting a few metres away from where the party is still in full bloom. You go up a couple floors and stop when he finds the perfect spot to shoot. You watch him arrange his cameras, fumbling with the flimsy skirt he had you wear for tonight. Your nervousness doesn’t pass unnoticed by him. When he’s done, he approaches you, cupping your cheek to make you look at him. 

“Changed your mind?”

Yet you avoid answering him, looking at the camera. “Is it filming now?” you ask, turning to look at him again. 

“Yeah, but don’t worry. I’ll crop out our faces.” He pauses for a moment, before adding, “If you’re still down for this.” 

You think about it for a moment. You’re nervous, but his presence is calming you down. Besides, you wanted to do this to do something “you’d never do in your right mind,” as you said in that text. If there’s one night you’re allowed to let those dark thoughts you usually hide break loose, it’s tonight. 

Taking one last look between the camera and him, you wrap your arms around him, standing on your toes to reach him. “Don’t disappoint me.”

He smirks. “When have I ever?”

Shidou captures your lips hostage, groping your arse and lifting you off the ground, carrying you to the stone bench behind you. He sits down with you on his lap, biting your lip and dragging it out, while looking into your eyes. You involuntarily moan, tugging at his hair, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nibbling and sucking on your sweet flesh to leave behind his marks. 

He lifts your hoodie up, making you bite the hem to keep it up for him. His large palms grope your plush tits over your bra, pulling the fabric down and making them spill out in his hands. He runs the pads of his thumbs over your nipples, eliciting a soft muffled moan from your lips. Shidou teases your sensitive nipples until they become erect little buds. And even then, he doesn’t leave them alone, taking them in turns in his mouth, sucking and biting them, slapping them too. 

You’ve forgotten all about the camera filming you, instead your mind screaming to be fucked at this very instant, else it’ll die. Unconsciously, while he’s busy tending to your delicious tits, you start grinding yourself on his trousers. Shidou stops his ministrations and instead looks up at you, still biting down on your hoodie, softly whimpering as you rub your needy core over his clothed crotch. 

“So needy,” he coos, slapping your arse hard, making you squeal. “Want my cock that bad, pretty girl?”

Your cheeks blush at his words which go straight to your needy cunt. He knows what you want and he’s only teasing you because it’s fun. Letting the hem of the hoodie fall out of your mouth, you look at him irritated, tugging at his hair hard. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

In a second, Shidou stands up and places you down on the bench, kneeling before you and spreading your legs. His smirk only grows bigger when he notices the absence of your panties. Not that he didn’t know. He’s the one who told you not to wear any tonight, confiscating them to tease you when you arrived here earlier, when the party started. He pushes your skirt up, giving the camera a perfect view of your pretty pussy, before his tongue darts out to lick your folds. 

The way he eats you out is aggressive, more so than he usually does. He’s desperate to taste you and have you screaming his name along with praises for everyone in the near vicinity to hear you. He toys with your clit and thrusts his long tongue inside your needy little hole, your failed attempts to stay quiet pleasing him. And yet, before you’re able to cum all over his tongue, he pushes away to tease you once more. 

“Arsehole.” 

Shidou laughs, coming up to kiss your lips once more, letting you taste yourself on him. You moan in your kiss, your exposed pussy getting caressed by the fall night breeze blowing. He undoes his trousers, pulling them down along with his underwear to free his throbbing dick, slapping it on your wet cunt, smirking in your lips at the sweet complaint sounds you make. He rubs the crown on your folds, coating it in your arousal, before he thrusts inside you, filling you up in one go, groaning at how tight you feel around him. 

“Fuck, pretty…” Shidou grunts. “So tight for me.” 

He catches your legs, holding them above his forearms as he starts pounding you, hard and fast. You cover your mouth with your hands to prevent your moans from spilling out, terrified of being heard by the people at the party. And he finds this sight of you, all desperate for his cock, yet still afraid of getting caught, so fucking adorable, he can’t help thrusting even harder, repeatedly hitting that sweet spot of yours to draw out your moans you so frantically try to deprive him of. 

“What happened, pretty? Don’t want other people hearing how much of a slut you are for me? How desperate you are for my cock?” 

“F-Fuck you, Ryu.” 

“Oh? Is that the problem?” Burying himself inside you, Shidou lifts you up and takes a seat on the bench, having you straddle his legs. You let out a low moan, feeling him even deeper with this change in positions. “Then go right ahead, sweets,” he says, leaning back, his hands groping your arse. “Fuck me till you’re satisfied.” 

You glare at him only for a moment, before you start riding his cock. He’s pissing you off right now, but you’re still frustrated about not coming earlier. And if he’s going to tease you like that, you may as well use him to get off. 

He’s not stupid. He knows you’re cursing at him in your pretty little mind. He makes you bite the hem of your hoodie once more, not because he’s scared you’ll start cursing at him on camera, but simply because Shidou wants to see your perky tits bouncing as you ride him. Yet as punishment for mentally cursing at him, he still spanks your arse and slaps your tits, making you cry. But that’s nothing. 

The tears start falling when he once more denies you the pleasure of feeling that high, denying you your orgasm again. He wipes your tears and kisses your pouty lips, as you punch his shoulders and desperately try to move yourself. But it’s pointless, he’s holding you down on him too tight to be able to move. When he breaks the kiss, you’re ready to slap him. 

However, before you even realise it, Shidou has you on your hands and knees, thrusting right back in your depths from behind, the aggressive sound of skin slapping against skin reverberating through the walls of this old tower. You try to push yourself back to him, away from the window, not wanting to be seen, but of course, he does not allow that, forcing you till the middle of the windowsill. You pray that due to the height, nobody will see you. 

You try, you really do, but it’s so hard not to moan when he starts rubbing your clit, slapping it from time to time to torment you even more. And as you feel your orgasm building up inside you again, he starts to slow down. And you’re so desperate to cum, you don’t care if you’re heard or seen. 

“Ryu, please, no!” you whimper, looking at him over your shoulder, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Please, I wanna cum! I wanna cum so bad! Please, Ryu!” 

His indifferent expression turns into a devilish smirk, as he wraps both hands around your neck and pulls you back, your body arching against him. “Look at you, begging so good for me.” His pace slowly picks up again, your eyes closing from the impending pleasure. “Go ahead, sweets. Make a mess on my cock for me.” 

And you do. You make a real mess, squirting all over his dick and triggering his own orgasm, having him spill his hot seed inside your tight pussy. You relax in his arms, leaning back on him, as he holds you, kissing your temple. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum loads whenever I watch this video.” 

“Are you going to upload it?” 

You hear him laugh and turn to look at him over your shoulder. He catches your chin, bringing you closer to his face. 

“I was never going to upload shit,” Shidou reveals. “You’re meant for me and only me.”

© strawchocoberry — do not copy, repost, translate or reuse my work

[beenbaanbuun]

Bunnnnyyyy I'm having yuyu withdrawals 😭😭

I recently stumbled across the spiderman yuyu edit on Instagram again and it has me running LAPS

Like can you imagine being roommates with photography major spider!yunho, noticing his odd disappearances and late nights but never saying anything, which he appreciates because lord knows he doesn't have the capacity for it rn sinde I'd headcannon this is right after his uncle's desth when he's still in his angry grief era.

But MC would be sweet even though he's cold and kinda mean, she wouldn't be nosy or pry, always asks him to eat with her out of courtesy (which isn't a big deal for her but it kinda chips away at his heart because she's so sweet about it).

Still he maintains certain boundaries till one day he comes home all beat up and bruised, and MC patches him back up, there’s so much tension in the room when she has to peel off his shirt to check the bruises on his sides, when he softly asks why she cares about him so much, when she quietly admits that it's because she likes him-

AKSHSKSHDKSDBJSBZSJ

I'm just..... obsessed with Yunho

-lyra

so this sent me a little insane and i wrote so much more than i was expecting to 😭😭 spidey!yunho has sent me down a rabbit hole and this is what we ended up with…

——————————————————————————“can we eat together tonight?” you ask as you stir the pasta around the pot. you made two portions, as usual, in the sheer hope that he wouldn’t be going out again. “i found this recipe i thought you’d like. i figured it might help cheer you up!” you shrug as if it’s no big deal.

but it is to yunho. as he picks his backpack up from the floor, he feels his heart break just a little. it would be so much easier for him to leave the apartment every night if it wasn’t for the fact that you were such a sweetheart. the fact that you always cook for him whenever you make something for yourself is something that has been slowly chipping away at his hard exterior for months now. the way that you put it in the fridge along with a cute little note whenever he isn’t there to eat with you has almost properlybroken that exterior in two.

yunho can’t deny that half of those precious little notes are stashed in the drawer of his nightstand; he rereads them whenever his emotions get the better of him. seeing the sweet messages scrawled onto the yellow post-it-notes never fails to make him smile. your pretty little words in your pretty little handwriting… he’d be insane not to keep them.

you turn around, taking your attention away from the pot for just a moment, and spot him with his jacket on and his rucksack slung lazily over one shoulder. as your face falls, he can’t help the way his heart breaks just a little more. you probably think you’ve hidden your disappointment well, and to anyone else you might have done. it’s just a shame that yunho is the way that he is, because he sees the way your shoulders deflate and the shadow of a frown disrupts your pretty face. he can practically feel the sadness radiating from you in waves, the hairs at the back of his neck standing up slightly as your not-so-obvious upset puts him on edge.

but then you seem to remember yourself, and within seconds you’ve picked yourself back up and are offering a small smile to him. he still feels that prickling at the back of his neck, though.

although it becomes apparent pretty quickly that that sensation may be caused by his own disappointment, rather than yours. as much as he’d like to pretend otherwise, he can’t deny the way that the feeling in his neck grows as he watches you pull a tupperware from the cupboard. you swap it with his dish - it was really yours, but you’d named it his because it’s red and red reminds you of him, for some reason - and he has to stifle his own frown. for some reason watching you replace the ceramic bowl with the plastic tub hits him right in the chest…

“i’ll put yours in the fridge, then,” you say as you turn back to the pasta and give it a stir, “you can grab it whenever you’re hungry; maybe when you get back tonight?”

sweetheart, his brain repeats over and over like a mantra. it rattles round his skull whilst he tries to find the words to thank you. to let you know just how much he appreciates it, even if he doesn’t always show it. and the words are right there. right on the top of his tongue…

but for some reason he can’t get them out.

“i’ll see you later,” is all he mumbles before he slips out of the doorway and dashes down the hallway to the open window that awaits him at the end.

you try not to let the way the door slams shut hurt you, but even with the strongest will in the world you wouldn’t be able to take away the ache in your chest. he’s just going through a rough patch, you try to convince yourself as you spoon his serving into the tupperware and clip the lid shut. he just needs some time alone after everything that’s happened to him, you think as you slip it into the fridge. it’ll be better soon, you pray as you pull out a pen and think about what to write on his note.

hope this pasta cheers you up, yun! if you like it, let me know and i’ll make it more often for you!!

the words make you cringe, but you slip it next to the tupperware anyway, closing the fridge with a huff. you doubt he even reads the notes anyway, so why does it matter if what you write on them is a little sickly-sweet.

with a sigh you grab your bowl and turn to the couch, ready to settle in and do nothing for the night. as usual, yunho’s portfolio stuff is everywhere, as well as the photos of that one spider-guy that he’s been collecting for his new job at the daily bugle. you hate the newspaper yourself, thinking that the conspiracy-led journalism is nothing but fear mongering nonsense, but you can’t fault yunho for working there; he’s only in it for the money, afterall. it’s just the life of a collage student to have to sell out your morals for a paycheck.

you pick it all up, organising it into somewhat-coherent piles on the coffee table before flopping down onto the ratty sofa and flicking the TV on. the volume is barely at a whisper, and you can’t help but curse yunho for having such good hearing; no doubt he feels the same when he turns the TV on to a deafening wall of sound after you’ve used it. the thought gives you a quick chuckle as you flick through the channels to find something to watch. you settle on a dumb reality show, quickly settling in for the evening so you can eat your pasta in peace.

———

hours pass before yunho returns, swinging the door open and startling you out of your TV-centred tunnel vision. you turn to him in surprise, ready to gently scold him for putting what would no doubt be another dent in the wall. that will have to come out of both of your deposits, you prepare yourself to tell him, but when you actually see him you pause.

he’s hunched up against a wall, chest rising and falling as he struggles to breathe. there’s a wheeze when he inhales, which only gets stronger when he breathes out, and the look of pain on his face that comes each and every time he respires sends you straight into panic mode. you don’t bother to turn the TV off as you stand up and rush towards him.

“fucking hell, yun,” you cry as you reach him. he winces at your shrill tone, drawing back into himself as you invade his personal space to check for injuries. the obvious one is his side, which he’s clutching in his grip like his life depends on it; you assume it’s a cracked rib, which would explain why breathing looks like it’s taking all of his effort. despite its necessity, its a notoriously painful thing to do with a broken rib.

a broken nose can make it difficult too, and as you begin to scan his face, you realise that he definitely has one of those. the way it twists to the side slightly, blood oozing from his right nostril like a faucet makes you flinch back a little, as if you’re the one that’s injured. you compose yourself quickly as you continue your search. black eye, split brow, split lip - the list goes on, but thankfully none of it seems too irreparable. with your basic knowledge of first aid, and yunho’s weirdly extensive first aid kit, you’re bound to have him fixed up in no time.

“bathroom,” you stutter out, taking a step back to give him some space. he almost misses your warmth as he watches you take a few steps towards the room that separates his bedroom from yours. he chases it, pushing himself away from the wall and stumbling after you. he doesn’t know why he wants you so close all of a sudden, but he feels like he needs it to survive. those brief few seconds he had you close somehow made him breathe a little easier. he follows you into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

silently, you gesture to the toilet and he takes a seat on the closed lid. his broad torso leans back against the tiles, and he relishes in the way that the cold seeps through his shirt and washes over his too-hot body. his head tips back against it too, and he watches you through hooded eyes as you scramble through the cabinet to find his first-aid kit.

sweetheart, his mind whispers again as you sit there on your knees in front of the cabinet, pushing rolls of toilet paper and bottles of cleaning product to the side. only you could be so adorably caring towards him after all these months of him actively pushing you away. only you would be so worried for him after he’d been trying his hardest to avoid you for months on end.

only you.

that feeling at the back of his neck comes back, only this time it’s stronger. every single hair on his body stands on end as he watches you pull the black bag from the back of the cabinet, whispering a cute little ‘a-ha’ to yourself. he smiles at that, not even bothering to hide it from you when you turn to him with the kit in hand. he doesn’t need to anymore; you’ve already seen everything else he used to hide.

which reminds him of his tattered spider-suit in his grasp. yunho holds out the red spandex for you to take from him, half expecting you to examine it and unveil all his secrets, but you don’t. you don’t even look at it as you toss the filthy fabric into the bathtub and turn the cold tap on. it’s the best for getting blood out, afterall. with little more thought about the piece of fabric, you turn back to yunho and unzip the black bag.

“unbutton your shirt,” you mutter as you pull out some wipes, a tube of antiseptic cream, and a large square bandage. you have no idea if his side is actually bleeding or not, but it’s best to be prepared, right? you look back at him with the materials in hand, only to see him staring back at you with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“what?” you grumble, taking notice of the fact that he hasn’t moved an inch. his hand was still clutched over his side and his shirt was still messily buttoned up. you sigh and move towards him, thinking nothing of it when you drop to your knees between his thighs and begin to unbutton the white fabric. his breath hitches as your fingers brush against his chest, but you pay him no mind, “yunho, move your arm - i need to get your shirt off.”

he doesn’t, remaining still as ever as you undo the last button that you can. you sit back on your haunches and watch him from where you sit between his spread legs.

“yun, come on,” you whine, and he closes his eyes at the sound. so beautiful; if only he wasn’t in pain so he could enjoy it more, “i need to undo the rest of your buttons and i can’t when you’re not letting me!”

you lay a hand on his wrist in a pleading gesture, asking wordlessly to let you take care of him. he listens this time and loosens his grip on his ribs. you pull his hand away, sucking in a breath as you catch sight of the red stain that his hand was previously covering. it’s not huge, but it still needs seeing to, so you go back to unbuttoning his shirt.

yunho tries not to think too hard as your hand brushes over his crotch when you undo the last two, just like when you eventually finish and push the sides of his shirt open to reveal his bare chest. it’s covered with bruises, and he bites his lip to suppress a groan as your delicate fingers dance softly across his damaged skin. he finds himself wishing the circumstances were different, and that you sitting between his legs, touching his chest could be so much more than you just worrying about him. as he watches you pick up the antiseptic wipes again, he’s reminded that that’s all it is; you being worried.

but that too confuses him. after all this time of him being a downright dick to you, you’re still so gentle with him. he’s abrupt and rude, and yet you still smile and say hello whenever you see him. he’s never around to eat with you, and yet you never fail to make him a meal every time you cook. he’s kept so much from you, and yet here you are, taking care of him like none of that ever mattered. like you can somehow see the man he is underneath all that.

he whimpers, and he’s not quite sure whether it’s because of the pain of the antiseptic wipe, or the pain he feels in his heart. either way, he needs something to take his mind off it all.

“why?” he asks as you clean his wound with a kind hand. so soft, your touch, as if you’re scared of hurting him. as if anything you could ever do would hurt him.

“why what?” you respond as you toss away the bloodied wipe and move to grab the cream. you put a dollop on your finger and begin to gently press it against the wound. he groans, and you mutter out a small apology. you mean it too; you don’t want to cause him any more pain.

“why are you doing this?” he says through gritted teeth, breathing heavy and laboured as he tried to power through the sting that he feels in his side, “why are you so nice to me when i’m - oh fuck, it hurts - when i’m anything but nice to you?”

you pause for a second, mulling over his question, repeating it in your mind until you can settle on an answer. well, an answer that’s palatable for him, anyway.

“you’re not not nice,” you say, capping the cream and putting it down on top of yunho’s thigh; you’d need it layered anyway. then you grab the bandage and rip off the adhesive cover, “and even if you were, i don’t think that wouldn’t change how i feel about you as a person.”

he watches with confusion in his eyes as you line up the bandage and smooth it over his skin. you run your fingers along the edges, pressing it down the make sure it’s secure. he’s sure that they linger on his skin for a moment longer than they have to, but he says nothing as you pull your hand back and rest it on your lap.

“how do you feel about me?” he whispers quietly into the cold air of the bathroom. it’s quite possibly the worst place he can imagine to have this conversation, and yet it seems the fit the atmosphere perfectly. somehow it feels so natural, talking about feelings whilst you patch up his injuries in the bathroom.

“i’ve fallen for you,” you bite the bullet, just coming straight out with it, “hook, line, and sinker, yun.”

it feels good to get it off your chest at long last. even if it doesn’t lead anywhere, or it makes things weird between the two of you. even if he begins to avoid you more, or just straight up moves out, it’s feels nice to have it out in the open. you’ve cast your net, it’s up to him whether or not he lets you catch him…

“oh,” is all he says at first, and you try not to think too much into that single syllable. you pick up the tube of antiseptic cream again and turn your attention to his eyebrow, “you like me?”

you nod as you put another globule on your finger and lean into him to get closer to the cut. you ignore the way he stares at you as you work, trying you hardest to avoid making eye contact. you already feel like your heart is about to beat itself free from your chest; you don’t need to worry it any more.

but then you feel a finger brush softly against your face, a scabbed up knuckle teasing your soft skin as it’s traces your cheekbone. a breath gets caught in your throat, and your finger stills against yunho’s brow bone. against your better judgement, you let yourself focus on his expression, making eye contact with the chocolate pools that never failed to draw you in. they’re beautiful, as always, but they reveal so much more than they usually do. the corners crinkle up into crows feet as his pupils twinkle with an emotion you’ve never really seen on his face before. it suits him… a lot.

“that’s a relief,” he breathes out, the semblance of a chuckle in his voice, “i’ve been calling you sweetheart in my brain since the moment we moved in together; it’ll be nice to be able to call you that to your face… sweetheart.”

[olderthannetfic]

Can I poke the bear for a moment and get angry? Because I'm seeing "posting as activism" more and more in fandom spaces, and tonight I saw a post that made me lose it.

There is a post about (current events) going around that says, "full offense, but in this time, your own comfort doesn't fucking matter, you should be uncomfortable about things that are happening, and I hope you can fucking live with yourselves if you are quiet. It takes five seconds to retweet or reblog, fuck your aesthetic, fuck your anything aesthetic."

And my god. How dare they.

Yes, there is severely fucked up shit happening. Yes, people should be aware that people are being killed. Yes, there are people who are just shrugging about it and pissing off. But how does reblogging a post certify someone as Good or Bad? How does this person know that someone hasn't already helped out meaningfully in some way, or is still helping out, but on other websites? How does this person know that someone isn't barely holding on by the skin of their teeth, and they would have a mental breakdown if they got closer to any more stressful things?

I know a multitude of people, including myself, who have recently either needed to call lines, check into facilities, move back in with their parents, or go on medication because of how insane things have become in their own lives. How does this person not understand that blogging; being on tumblr; engaging in fandom, having a small space that someone can control in its entirety, is a reprieve for people who are already at their wit's end outside of that space? And that's okay.

(We are not doing the relative privation shit in this house. I refuse to entertain that.)

Ironically, by insisting that people participate in sharing posts when they're already stressed and exhausted, that's a surefire way to make their problems worse, and potentially prevent them from acting helpfully in the future because suddenly, their exhaustion turns into full-blown burnout. That's how it works. Professionals tell you to dial things back if you are too overwhelmed. There is a reason for that. There is a limit to how much people can mentally process and handle. Compassion fatigue exists. For a lot of us, we are already at our limit. We need space to relax, and not have arbitrary obligations thrown on us. That is not our fault, it is not a character flaw, it does not mean we are bad people. And just because horrific things are happening elsewhere, it does not mean we can, or should, stop taking care of ourselves first. Yes, it feels shitty to think, "you know what, I can't reblog this". You bet your ass that I and my friends feel guilty about not being able to engage as much as we think we should, but that is how it goes. I can put my head underwater for a bit. But I cannot keep my head underwater forever. I will drown.

Not to mention the obvious part: guilt-tripping people to the extent of implying they are somehow contributing to genocide, just because they won't reblog a post, and implying they should not be able to live with themselves if they do that, is beyond revolting.

I am angry, and I am not sorry.

--

So many of those kinds of posts—and they turn up during every set of horrific real world events—sound like people who are in a country far away from the events, diaspora at most but probably just randos, venting their impotent rage because it's the only way they can feel productive in a situation where nothing they can do is productive.

[claudemblems]

"Am I Annoying?" | Tighnari

Tighnari Genshin Impact <3

"Now where would you get such a preposterous idea?"

Tighnari set aside the bowl of herbs he'd been grinding down for some medicinal tea, his attention now focused on your gloomy countenance. You didn't have to meet his gaze to know he was sending you a stern yet caring look.

"Did someone put this sort of thought into your head? If so, they are ridiculous to assume that I'd feel such a way towards you. However, if this is a thought born out of your own worries, pay it no mind. You know how I feel about you." At this, Tighnari's eyes softened, a small smile on his lips. "Don't start doubting me now."

"I don't mean to doubt you..." You sighed, hands fiddling with the edge of your shirt. "I just doubt myself is all. Every day I look at myself and think, 'How on earth have you managed to get a man like Tighnari? You have no accomplishments, no beauty, and no good characteristics to speak of. How could anyone possibly love you without it being due to pity?'" You clenched your hands into fists, fighting back the tears forming in your eyes. "I just can't see myself the way everyone else sees me. I worry so much about becoming a nuisance to someone. I don't want them to keep their negative feelings to themselves and then, when they finally grow tired of me, eventually leave..."

Tighnari rose from his seat and approached the cot you'd been sitting on. You felt the bed dip beneath you and the faint brush of fingers on top of your own.

"[Name]." Tighnari said gently. "Look at me."

You let his hand cup your cheek and gently turn your face towards him.

"You are anything but a burden to me. If I didn't love you, would I have asked you to date me? Would I have spent so many late nights thinking of you, every inch of me buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing you the next morning? I don't let just anyone consume both my heart and mind, you know."

You let out a small laugh, Tighnari's smile growing at the visible improvement of your mood. "Seriously, if I wasn't so well-versed in medicine, I would have thought I was slowly falling into actual insanity. How on earth could it be normal for my heart to race so erratically just at the sight of you?"

"Are you saying I made you nervous?"

"A little, but it was also just because I found you very pretty. And still do, of course."

He spoke as if your beauty was the most obvious fact in the world. It made your face flush red. Though Tighnari's bluntness could be a lot at times, in moments like these, you were grateful for his honest nature. When he complimented or praised you, you knew he meant it. And that's what made his words even more special to you.

"I love you dearly, [Name]. Don't ever second-guess that. However, if you're still not convinced, I will have to prescribe you some medicine to make these negative symptoms go away."

You raised an eyebrow, puzzled but intrigued. "Medicine?"

"Mhmm, but don't worry. This is the good kind."

Your heart skipped a beat as Tighnari briefly pressed his lips to yours. When he pulled away, he smiled as he observed your shocked, flustered state.

"You will need to receive at least three kisses a day for the rest of the week. No skipping any days, either. If you want to get rid of those pesky doubts, you need to be good and take the medicine your caring boyfriend has prescribed to you."

You couldn't help but break into a fit of laughter, clutching at your sides that would no doubt start aching later. Tighnari let out a chuckle of his own as he wrapped his arms around you, leaning his head on yours. "You're so silly, Tighnari."

"But that's why you love me, isn't it? Just like why I love you."

Taking his hand in yours, you squeezed it gently, your lips curving upwards when he squeezed back. "Yes. You're right. I do love you, so much."

You spent the rest of the day close by Tighnari's side and taking your medicine as instructed, but you may have stolen a few kisses more than the doctor's recommended dose ;)

[destiny-in-the-universe]

Welp. I did it again [RC9GN Infection AU]

The never-ending brainrot on this stupid show is going to be the end of me. Honestly, this is just me being hyperfixated on post-apoc universes and the fact that I will make things dark on a whim because I just felt like it (I'm sure I'm not the first to make an rc9gn infection au, so in the off chance my idea sounds like someone else's- i apologize)

Thoughts on Infection Lore

Honestly, to make this fully work- it's essentially a more 'progressed' version of stanks; someone who becomes corrupted by the Sorcerer now suddenly becomes a mindless monster (if you are susceptible enough, not everyone will remain stuck as one- don't question this right now)

My personal take is this; not everyone who's been stanked will be infected, but certain people will be placed at risk due to the following:

~ people who have less obvious ways to be destanked are placed at risk

(long author's version: those who have 'unfinished business' and are still dealing with the inner turmoil of whatever stanked them in the first place will be infected, remaining stuck as a monster for longer periods of time.)

~ after a certain amount of days have passed by (if the person hasn't been destanked by then), they will remain permanently stuck as the monster; the way i see it is the sorcerer's a powerful foe and increased the power in his stanks which makes it an even bigger problem when no one knows what caused the transformation - i feel more than it being fueled by fear, it's a multitude of different things at once - and essentially, it corrupts the individual

~ deterioration is an unwelcome side effect (some people only have the 'essence' of the stank, so to speak, in them- and it causes deterioration to the body, consuming the negative thoughts before it triggers the stanking)

~ the mind becomes a lot more animalistic in nature and once it reaches a certain point, there is no going back- destanking won't work, and the individual is simply stuck as a rampaging monster

(author's cut: i need to flesh this out bc this will follow a slightly different route than what i've done before when it comes to the infection au; one thing to note though is things like being a carrier or having immunity do still exist-)

Character Thoughts

I'm going to do this in-reverse; starting with the villains - McFist and Viceroy - at this point, the duo aren't working for the Sorcerer anymore; if anything, they are on their own- attempting to seek refuge within the McFist Industries building, but they can hole up there for so long. McFist has ceased trying to get revenge on the Ninja completely ceased, and Viceroy is simply attempting to figure out the best course of action on keeping both of them from being attacked- (I definitely see them becoming important somehow, but for now this is what I'm working with) [small author's note: Bash and Marci are there, i'm not as mean as to separate them... yet)

The Sorcerer's role in this is ridiculously major and will come into play as the story progresses- (not entirely how just yet, but honestly i might have to retcon the information from season 2 for this to work, just bear with me here)

Not all of the high school students will be important because genuinely I do not have the attention span- and this will be focusing on a specific group/party, not everyone or I would go insane (as if I don't already have other ideas to flesh out) [author's cut: some will be stanked, the rest will be there for different reasons]

Now, to cover the main group-

For starters, we have our girls - Heidi, Debbie, and Theresa - who will be something of a power trio; Debbie definitely is something of a pack leader- she takes charge, and Heidi backs her up in things but of course that leaves Theresa as moral support (though this girl deserves to have her moment to shine; however, in order to keep things on the down low for now, well, this pup ain't talking /lh)

I plan on keeping Heidi, Debbie, and Theresa as the first group- they're not going to be meeting with the rest of the party until things start escalating in intensity; again, no spoilers- this idea for now, is a WIP and I just want to see who might be interested

Then of course, we have the boys - Randy, Howard, and Julian; the way I see it this takes place after a stank incident gone wrong, because apparently the person doesn't transform back (and there's something off, something not-human- like they're not present anymore)

Howard forces Randy to run, knowing there's nothing that can be done- (more people become prone to the Sorcerer's doing- corrupting those unfortunate enough to get too close); though things are going to get so, so much worse. This part isn't necessarily spoilers but I do see one particular stank incident getting worse, and well- to not spoil too much again, someone becomes hurt and the duo are forced into hiding. Julian enters the picture, and you have this trio now facing a threat none of them thought was possible (stanks are one thing, not understanding why they still won't turn back is an entirely different story)

Randy becomes desperate to fix things- but he doesn't want to hurt anyone; surely, there has to be a way to return everything back to normal [author's cut: i have so many plans for this boy, and i do intend to make things difficult]

As for Howard, he learns to assume a sort-of second-in-command status (but i'm going to cause tension, and it's going to be a thing until i kick in new elements in)

Julian, though, my sweet summer child- is weirdly thriving in this environment (but he is also going through it a little- this still has post-apoc elements keep that in mind)

With Randy and the Nomicon, however, hoo boy do I have plans I can't share just yet- however, I will say complications arise esp. considering there's more going on (communications may be cut, is all i'm saying; details still in the works)

Relationship Thoughts

So far, everyone will remain strictly platonic but- I do plan on creating a team-like dynamic between the main six;

~ Randy and Julian do become closer- I honestly feel there was a lot of robbed potential in their relationship esp. following the s2 finale

(author's cut: Julian as part of the informed team of the Ninja would have been such a neat element. Also, the fact he was in the Land of Shadows, but I'm getting sidetracked- seriously, there's going to be an expanded upon relationship between Randy and Julian; also sidetracked comment: Randy and Howard should have stayed members of Der Monster Klub, def not because it parallels D&D no-)

~ I also want Randy and Debbie to become closer because hoo boy, there is again- a lot of potential with them. There's something specific I'm aiming for here and I can only hope I do it correctly-

(another small author's cut: Debbie will need to accept exposing the Ninja is not something that can be her only end goal, there's something much bigger happening; something she couldn't even fathom- but of course, when have i ever made things easy for the main cast /lh)

This post is getting insanely long, but honestly let's just wrap things up with the usual ending;

Under-the-Cut Details

~ this little bit of information is what has me brainrotting over an au literally no one asked for: permanent stanks is literally like dealing with a wild animal; having to make a tough decision due to this is what i'm aiming for here. good luck

~ this is a mature horror-based genre, do not go into this thinking it'll be lighthearted because this is the exact opposite

~ i don't see the nine realms being a large part of the au, and if you do want to see more of this- i'd just recommend checking out the fanon plans i have for the would've-been season three and beyond-

~ i'm sure some of you will be curious on how the infection/"virus" will affect Randy and the answer to that, well, is you'll just have to wait and find out- no one is going to be having a good time and that does include him, have fun

~ in regard to the tengu- honestly, you will see this being a thing- but how? you'll just have to wait and see

(author's cut: this is currently a Work in Progress (WIP); genuinely this will be a darker outlook on the series as a whole, given this is literally post-apoc and covers what could easily be dark magic, but also- intense feelings of paranoia, spiraling negative emotions, and more...

there's going to be a lot happening, but for now this is all i can provide- the non-spoilers edition)

To wrap up some of the things again,

Group 1 - Debbie, Theresa, and Heidi (currently separated from the boys - decided to try and take shelter at the high school, planned reunion in later arcs)

Group 2 - Randy, Howard, and Julian (presumed missing - were also separated from the others; managed to escape during a dangerous stank attack)

Group 3 - Viceroy, McFist, Marci, and Bash (currently seeking refuge at McFist Industries; Viceroy has been attempting to ward off any threats using his inventions but for how long will this work?)

[thebisexualdogdad]

R becoming very overwhelmed when they find out their family is secretly a long line of vampire/supernatural hunters around the same time they start openly dating Hope

Hope Mikaelson x GN!reader

Growing up your parents always told you to stay away from the kids who went to Salvatore prep, you had no idea why but you listened to them up until when you met Hope.

You had bumped into each other at the coffee shop in town and instantly fell for her but as soon as you found out she was a Salvatore student you thought it was better to keep it quiet until things got more serious. 

After a few months together you thought it was time to finally tell your parents about your relationship and invited her over to your house for dinner. 

Your parents were fully ready to spend the dinner telling embarrassing stories of your childhood as parents do but they recognized Hope the moment she stepped into your home. 

Hope had a weird feeling that she had somehow met your parents before but brushed it off as she had just seen them around town. 

Dinner was quiet, oddly quiet.

"Dinner is really good mom," you say, trying to break the silence. 

"Yeah Mrs. Y/L/N, everything is great," Hope smiles. 

"Thank you Hope," your mom nods.

"So Hope, do you go to Mystic Falls high?" Your dad asks, already knowing the answer but not wanting it to be too obvious. 

"No, I actually go to Salvatore prep," Hope replies. 

"What is it like there?" He questions. 

"It's very… eccentric," she chuckles, "a lot of interesting people." 

"Do your parents live in the area?" Your mom adds. 

"Actually my parents died when I was a kid," Hope responds.

"Sorry to hear that," your mom says with faux sympathy. 

Dinner continues on with the awkward small talk and you are so grateful when Hope says that's it late and she should be getting back to school.

You walk Hope to her car and kiss her goodbye, returning inside to your parents who are washing dishes in the kitchen. 

"So what did you think of Hope?" You ask them nervously.

"How could you date someone from that school… and Hope Mikaelson of all people," your mom says, putting down the dish she was washing. 

"What do you guys have against Salvatore Prep? And do you know Hope or something?" You ask confused. 

Your parents look at each other and without needing to say a word nod in agreement.

"Y/N, it's time you know the truth about our family," your father states.

They sit you down in the living room, serious looks on their faces. 

"Okay you’re really starting to worry me," you say, no possible idea what they could want to tell you. 

"This town has a lot of secrets and Salvatore prep is the home to a lot of them," your mom states. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"We weren't going to bring you into this until you were 18 but Y/N…Monsters are real, all the stories and legends you heard as a kid it's all real," your dad tells you, "those kids aren't like you, every single of them is supernatural and a lot of them have hurt people." 

"Very funny," you laugh. 

"This isn't a joke honey, the last few decades Mystic Falls has been a hot spot for supernatural creatures thanks to the Salvatore Brothers and the Mikaelson family," your mom explains, "that's why we moved here when you were five." 

"So you're trying to tell me that Hope is what? A vampire? A werewolf" You say in disbelief.

"She's both actually as well as a witch, she's called a tribred and probably the most dangerous of them all." 

"And how exactly would you guys even know about any of this?" You question, "and if you do know about this why would you move us here in the first place?" 

"Because our family has been hunting monsters for centuries and protecting the innocent from them," your father explains, "when we heard about the Salvatore school opening up for kids like them we came here to keep Mystic Falls safe." 

"This is insane, Hope isn't a monster," you say getting up from the couch, "she would never hurt anyone." 

"Y/N wait," your father attempts but your mother puts her hand on his arm.

"Let them go, it's a lot to take in, they just need some time," she tells him. 

You don't talk to Hope for days, too busy pulling all nighters researching the supernatural world and trying to figure out how true what your parents told you really was. 

Eventually Hope gets concerned at the radio silence and goes to Mystic Falls high looking for you. 

"Y/N hey," she says approaching you at your car after school.

"Hope what are you doing here?" You say nervously. 

"I haven't heard from you since I went to your house for dinner? Did I do something wrong?" She asks, "did your parents not like me?"

"I'm sorry I can't talk right now," you say attempting to get in your car. 

"Whatever's going on you can tell me," Hope says, stepping closer to you and going to touch your arm but you pull away. 

You look around, making sure no one was close enough to hear you, "... are you a tribred?" 

"How do you know what that is?" She says in shock. 

"You are, aren't you, god my parents were telling the truth."

"Your parents? How do your parents know about me?"

"Because apparently their fucking monster hunters and expect me to be one too," you say through gritted teeth. 

Hope is trying to process this news but now there's way too many other students around. 

"Can we please go somewhere and talk," she asks and you agree. 

You drive in silence to a secluded spot outside the woods, normally when you and Hope came here to be alone it was for a very different reason. 

Hope tells you everything, the story of her parents, how all her friends that you had met weren't totally human and even about the few encounters she had over the years with hunters that you both assume were actually your parents. 

"So you're telling me there's a magical pit in Georgia that is a portal to a hell dimension that's basically a jail cell to an evil golem named Malivore that wants to murder you so he can take over the world," you say trying to wrap your mind around it all.  

"To sum it up, yes," she nods. 

"What the actual fuck," you shout slamming your hands on the steering wheel. 

"I'm so sorry, I never should have started seeing you, the last thing I wanted is you to be involved in this," Hope apologizes. 

"Hope this isn't your fault, I would have gotten involved eventually. My parents said they weren't planning on telling me until I turned 18 it's just all so overwhelming," you sigh, "I dont believe that you and your friends are bad people and I really don't want to hunt anyone, especially not you I fucking love you." 

"You love me?" She says low and you realize what you just said. 

"Yeah… I do." 

"I love you too," she smiles. 

You lean in to kiss her and she puts her hand on your cheek, gently rubbing her thumb across your skin. 

"What are we going to do?" You ask, your hand on her waist pulling her as close as you could over the center console. 

"I don't know but we have each other and that's all that matters." 

[theluckywizard]

An Embellishment of Lore (tag game)

I think as Fanfic writers, we often add lore to our stories. It is natural for us to build upon the pillars set for us. But what about the foundations, gravel and grit? What was a piece of Lore you added to Dragon Age that wasn't pre-existing?

Thank you for the tag @moonlightheretic 🥰

I think I added the most original lore for my ~6,500 word companion/standalone fic Thirst which is a Cullen POV fic that digs into the experiences Cullen has between DA:2 Act 3 and the intervening time between Meredith's fall and joining the Inquisition. In particular, I had a Samson who was reinstated on Cullen's own recommendation and then wrote in a schism of the Kirkwall Order when lyrium supply was heavily impacted by templar-mage warring where Samson takes a huge number away to Corypheus. It also explains Cullen's scar! I also dug into Meredith's madness and how she'd been taking an insane dose of lyrium at that point (red lyrium idol/sword notwithstanding). I know Templar HCs are a hot potato in fandom, but I found it fascinating to dig into. The bureaucracy of it all, the feeling of being unable to make changes to institutions even as corruption becomes more obvious. I will caveat "original" with "I'm sure others have had these ideas before in the scheme of the last decade of fic writing" so I won't claim to be breaking ground with them, but I really had an incredible time thinking about how things might have been for Cullen as he rises in the ranks and is responsible for more and more of that particular nightmare. In canon, I believe Samson took the templars after Cullen had left for the Inquisition, but I felt this way it created a lot more tension and drama between.

Excerpt under the cut 👇

Cullen and Samson shortly before Samson leaves:

Later that evening Cullen winds down shaving at his dressing table, squinting at himself in the small, tarnished mirror that had come with his Order-issued kit a decade before. He pauses in the weak candlelight to trace a finger over the circles under his eyes, the lines that have been there for years. But Cullen has been subjecting himself to the same rationing as those in his ranks and this week’s thirst and sleeplessness wears heavily across his face. Twenty seven years old looks more like forty today. He scrapes the blade over the stretched skin under his nose as he mulls over the tense atmosphere in the mess earlier. Something is shifting. It’s just a feeling at the moment but it’s time to gather hard evidence.

A shadowy figure appears behind him in the mirror so quietly, so suddenly that the blade slips, slicing across his lip. 

He whips around with a curse, backing into his table so violently that everything on top of it rattles. Samson takes up too much space in this modest room.

“Maker’s breath— What are you doing here?” he demands, clutching his mouth while blood drips through his fingers, his eyes fixing upon his sword across the room.

“Aw, no need for the curses, golden boy. Just here for a little chat.”

His eyes are rimmed with a greasy red like someone had thrown a fistful of lye at his face and he stands tall in a way that prickles at Cullen’s skin. He quickly parses that Samson wouldn’t be rationing this week, not that it would have stopped the man from finding the substance elsewhere. Man to man it wouldn’t be a contest with Samson’s blood singing and Cullen suffering in near abstention.

Samson reaches into his pocket and shakes out a rumpled handkerchief and hands it to Cullen. Cullen can feel the depth of the cut and is in no position to refuse it. He takes it and presses it to his lip. 

“How did you get past the guards?”

Samson crosses his arms and then steps over to lean against his door frame. “You can get anything for the right price. Thought I taught you that.”

Lyrium. Of course.

“The men are thirsty,” he continues. “You could’ve gone to the Carta months ago.”

“I’m not smuggling it,” says Cullen. “The Order must be above reproach.”

Samson snorts. “Above reproach? Try leashed like a pack of starving dogs. The Chantry’s old game playing out to the logical end.”

Cullen has no answer for him.

Samson chuckles, searching the ceiling, his lips curling into an unsettling smile. “Remember the days sneaking hits behind the armory? Or remember— remember that one time in Lowtown with that one bird Cinnamon—”

Cullen would prefer to forget. “What are you doing here, Samson?”

“Easy does it. Easy. I’m here to make an offer.”

“You?”

“Cut the leash. Get out from the Chantry’s thumb once and for all.”

Cullen gapes at him from under the handkerchief. “Quit lyrium?” 

Samson laughs, a rich, knowing thing deep in his throat. “Nah. There’s no going back. I’ve been there. Only forward.”

“Forward? To where?” demands Cullen. He feels the room clenching down upon him, the air growing thin. “We’re needed here.”

Kirkwall flagged without a viscount, without its Champion, Garrett Hawke who had vanished with his sister Bethany when the violence had grown too thick. It fell to him and Guard Captain Vallen to hold it all together.

“Something greater, kid. We deserve better. Me and you and all the rest. We could be great.”

“I don’t— speak plainly, Samson.”

“Aren’t you tired of being a lapdog?” Samson gestures at Cullen’s face. “I can see how tired you are. If you ask me you’re fighting the wrong battle.”

“I have a responsibility to the Order. How I feel doesn’t matter,” says Cullen with shallow breaths, paralyzed against his dressing table. He swallows a dry mouthful of nothing, feeling it all caving in on him. “Whatever you’re up to— I could use you here. I know some part of you cares. There are some things greater than our own need.”

“You’re something else, kid, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it before.”

“Whatever happens now is on you,” says Samson. “Always been a bit too fanciful. Going to bite you in the arse some day.”

And then he is gone.

Read Thirst here!

Tagging @crackinglamb, @samseabxrn, @the-rebel-archivist, @leggywillow, @melisusthewee, @hekaerges, @oxygenforthewicked, @warpedlegacy, @monocytogenes, @nirikeehan, @delicatefade AND YOU IF YOU ARE READING THIS 🥰

[sonicasura]

I had to expand more on Kafka raising Sonic the Hedgehog ask I received awhile ago. There are no spoilers for Kaiju No. 8 manga here btw. Also Kaiju No. 8 Relax will release tomorrow for those who crave more silliness from the series.

Kafka absolutely didn't expect Sonic to reach his shoulder in height once the hedgehog turned 15. He was so used to his son fitting in his pockets when he first found him! Kafka already knows Tails will be taller than him at that age.

Sonic's favorite shoes were a joint gift from the Monster Sweepers than just his dad. They figured he needs something more sturdy to withstand his immense speed and energy. It took awhile, than just a good chunk of money, to find the perfect pair.

Kafka purchases a home since Robotnik destroyed his apartment in Sonic 2 and the place was too small for four people. He gets a house out in the woods so his kids could have more privacy. Normally Kafka would worry about the distance due to his job but Tails literally built him a car in less than two days as a surprise gift.

Kaiju No. 8 meets Knuckles. Or how Kafka's echidna son ran him through the ringer for three months so he could control his new powers better. Yes, Sonic and Tails were eating popcorn as they watch their dad get steamrolled by drill sergeant Knuckles. (They definitely offered Reno some too.)

When your newest coworker learns that your life has already been insane before getting Kaiju powers. Reno swears Kafka's life is a cartoon or something from all the stories he heard despite having proof(basically the events of Sonic 1 and Sonic 2.) Aliens, magical emeralds, kaiju powers and a mad scientist isn't something that happens to anyone.

What if Sonic got the Werehog form(specifically the bigger Archie variation) not too long after Kafka became No. 8? Father and son can now be Mister Monster Guys together despite the former's concern. Reno rather not deal with anymore transformation curveballs please.

Tails often runs tests on Kafka's kaiju form from time to time. He doesn't warn his dad when he pulls a scale for analysis though. Kafka gets payback by laying on Tails as this kid needs to rest more and experiment less. It turns into a cuddle pile because Sonic doesn't want to be left out but also drags Knuckles with him.

Tails being a chaotic hacker the moment his dad aims for the Defense Force. He absolutely put a bug on Kafka as he wonders what the DF are like. This has led to Team Sonic practically poking their dad about this vice captain Hoshina who seems to have a thing for him.(Kafka immediately denies anything.)

(Sonic the Werehog What If.) Don't challenge Kaiju No. 8 to a roaring contest. Sonic wanted to see who had the fiercest roar since he's prone to howl as a Werehog. Kafka accidentally spooked some campers nearby and both ran the moment a kaiju alarm went off.

Rip any Kaiju/Honju/Yoju who have the misfortune of running into Knuckles. The Echidna warrior wants to test his strength against these beings for awhile now. Defense Force are wondering what kind of entity been brutalizing Kaiju as of late.

Team Sonic takes Kafka's last name. A joint decision made between the three especially after Knuckles suggested about the four becoming a clan. Monster Sweepers surprise Kafka with custom IDs of Team Sonic with his name. (He made copies to take with him and tried not to cry so hard.)

(Sonic the Werehog What If) What better way to learn that your hedgehog son's new form has stretchy arms than almost losing your lunch box? Kafka definitely made a game about how far Sonic's rubberhose arms could reach. There were obvious jokes about the Werehog's arms being perfect jump ropes.

Reno didn't expect instant interdimensional teleporters were a thing that existed or to receive one from Sonic. He learns Emergency Warp Rings are given to anyone whose a friend of the Hibino Clan. Reno has yet to use his and always keeps it on his person.

[pandoraimperatrix]

NejiHina Week 2023 Sneak Peeks!

Day 1: Mission Together

To say Neji was tense was an overstatement, and the bitter thoughts intruding his mind, although nothing new, haven’t plagued him since his humiliating defeat at the chunnin exams almost three years before. He had been lucky back then, that the byakugan could only see through walls and not through his thoughts, he used to think really nasty things about his uncle and cousin.  

Right now, well, truly it was ever since receiving his orders, his thoughts were as nasty, no, they were nastier. And Neji could even boast about how larger his range of nastiness had become since he stopped isolating himself, judging his person to be far above such things as friendship as he used to do pre-chunnin exams and being miserable as result. Neji had spent the last two years joining the likes of Shikamaru, Lee, and worst of all, Kiba in outings to have fun with the boys (a concept once foreigner). Although his vernacular of awful thoughts had expanded, the list towards such thoughts were driven had shortened. 

Hinata-sama, after all, had no fault if her lord father, Hyuuga-sama, was completely out of his fucking mind. 

In truth, if Hyuuga-sama’s decision had any victim (figuratively, emotionally even, literally? No. She would never be victim in a strict sense, not in Neji’s watch no sir) it would be poor Hinata-sama.  

Of course, it was Neji’s sworn duty to stop any harm to come to her, and even if Hyuuga-sama didn’t have sent him with her to that incredibly stupid risky diplomatic visit to Kumo, Neji would have gone to the Hokage himself and demand to be put in that mission. Cursed seal be damned, his brains were already frying trying to understand the reasoning behind sending Hinata-sama to that place, to that people. 

“Neji-nii-san,” her sweet voice brought him back from his internal whirlpool of cursed thoughts of murder, “please stop, otou-sama will notice your killing intent and misinterpret it.” 

“There is nothing to misinterpret, Hinata-sama.” 

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Day 2: Magic

She swept the flowers adorning his dead body, white chrysanthemums and lilies falling on the floor, but Hinata only noticed her hands were shaking when she tried to undo his haori’s knot. From all the way too many times she imagined herself doing that, in her fantasies his skin was never cold and hard like marble under her fingertips. 

Hinata had to stop herself for a moment there, taking big gulps of air and trying to suffocate the hysterical bubble of despair growing inside her throat, only noticing that tears ran free down her cheeks when Neji’s crisp white linen shroud stained. 

Had she been in a reasonable mind and not insane with soul shattering grief, she would have stopped there, she’d know that she should never let herself see what was under the fabric, but she didn’t stop, and she’d never forget. Sobbing silently, she leaned towards him, her back bending forward until her forehead met his, now, as unmarked as hers. 

Was that betrayal, what she was about to do? Ensnare him with chains far heavier than the one that used to bind and cage him. Would he hate her when he came to learn what she was about to do? She prayed that he would. Hinata would take a living Neji’s hatred a million times over his love from beyond the grave. 

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Day 3: Dating

What?” he asked, finally looking at her and revelling to Hinata with his tortured expression how teasing her was taking the toll on him too, she wanted to reach down and discover for herself how much. She loved how dominating he could be, but it could also be frustrating when he got in one of those moods.  

Neji sighed and pillowed his head on her thigh, threads of chestnut hair falling on his eyes, clearly amused by her flushed cheeks and obvious impatience “do you want something, Hinata-sama?” 

And then, holding her gaze and with a small smile playing in his lips, he flicked her clit for the first time, finally. 

How Hinata didn’t come instantly was a mystery to her. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, enduring the violent waves of pleasure as he kept moving his finger in the pattern he found out wouldn’t get her there too fast, but would rend her completely defenceless against his power over her. 

“Ahhh” she panted, that was torture, absolute torture, she wanted to cry she wanted to push him to the floor and ride him all night, she wanted- 

Suddenly, Hinata found herself pressed against a wall, her husband using his free hand to push the silk away from her other thigh as he opened her legs wider and kissed her feverish skin of her inner thigh. She threaded her hands in his hair, pulling off his headband, uncovering the birdcage seal, something that caused so much pain, for so many years, she never thought that seeing it up-close would one day take such an erotic meaning. 

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

And much more to coooome in December, thank you @cyanis-art to keep the @nejihinata alive, only Neji is as faithful and standfast as you <3

[lutethebodies]

It's Always Been Personal, Pt. LMCXVIII

If it weren't so damn windy outside I'd be trying to bike this day away, but it's Santa Ana season so I'm stuck inside. Like many folks on my dash I don't feel well at the moment. Forgive me for indulging that (in trying to endure and purge it). It's below the cut, because it feels discourteous for someone like me to foist my hangups on folks who don't know me and who have many more legitimate reasons to feel unwell at the moment.

I am a hypersensitive guy. I take things too personally, I always have, and at this point in my life I accept that I probably always will. I turned 48 last week. So I remember the '80s elections, and they were all dumb. (Useless fact: back then the GOP states were blue on maps and Dem ones were red.) I remember the '90s ones too, and they were goofy and frivolous. The first US election I could vote in was the 1994 midterms, and everything/everyone I voted for lost. It was an early lesson I didn't learn enough from.

2000 both radicalized me (in its bizarre aftermath) and shamed me (I voted third party for all the reasons young men vote third party, and to my older self those reasons stink of posturing vanity). All the women in my family were disappointed in me and they were right to be. My grandfather died before Thanksgiving of that year; voting for Gore was almost literally the last thing he did. That was instructive.

The 2004 election was literally on my birthday. It was bad; I had an uncharacteristically public epic meltdown over group email and was embarrassed almost immediately (but not soon enough to not do it). 2008 and 2012 were almost fun, but I had become so caught up in my "career" and everything that "adulting" is (I had turned 30 in 2006, and within six months on either side of that I had a marriage and a mortgage) that I sort of took those elections for granted. That was foolish.

2016 sucked. It was bad and scary and I belatedly learned the (perhaps obvious) lesson that people in my extended family could not be trusted to do the right thing in crunch time, and I lost respect for them forever. I distracted myself by careering again, throwing myself into existing, already-in-motion plans to form a business partnership. That sputtered along until quarantine put it out of its misery.

2020 and now 2024 feel like fuckin' Shitty Groundhog Day. I often feel laughably naive, even at my age, but most illusions I had about anything at all are probably dead. I have the love of my spouse, my friends, and most of my family. I have much to be thankful for and am certainly privileged in many ways. I might even be ok moving forward. But what little trust I had in my random fellow citizens is gone.

That's par for me, honestly. I was 11 when my parents divorced and since then I've had basically no trust in most men. I know who they are, because I am one. Their sins are mine. I have witnessed too many brittle failures (both large and small) by too many other men to willingly repeat or emulate them.

I am not an activist. I'm not a cynic either, but I tried activism and learned that I am simply not made for, nor equal to, what it requires. I'm not much of a joiner or a leader either (I tried both several times, with similar debilitating results). I am much better one-on-one, but with age I fear I have lost a step or three that way.

For better or worse I am an artist, and a self-centered one at that, so creation (supported by the aforementioned friends and family) has meant more to me, especially this decade, than most anything else. I personally can't stop creating. It's almost shark-like in the way I need to keep creatively moving or die. That's how I cope. For me it's the best way to mentally combat not only the real world’s myriad large-scale insanities, but also my own personal real-world middle-aged oblivious follies of irrelevance. Dreaming up amazing places and inviting people to come play in them will never not be fun.

Creation is also why the chronic loneliness of our times hasn't yet swamped me, and I don't intend to succumb to it (or the accompanying crankdom) the way so many men have. Ideally my mental scaffolding is sufficient defense. Because I am also a defender. I learned through childhood sports that I'm better playing defense than offense. And I fucking hate bullies.

So I am always down for defending me and mine (a much larger group than you might assume), in the ways I know how and know best. That might sound both insufficient and extremely cringe but I remain a bit naive even at my age. There are other, better posts floating around On Here about what to do (community building, mutual aid, "self-care" etc etc) to Feel Useful, so this was probably needless. But if folks need to talk I can stand in line to do that.

I refuse to sink into the reactive cynicism, reductive judgment and self-righteous shaming of our times. It's wildly unhealthy. Don't let it eat you alive.

PS: my pal in Florida got his ass handed to him. Just totally outspent and stomped by like 20 points. Compared to what he's endured at other points in his life, it's probably nothing.

[jack-kellys]

hello everyone here are the few notes i had from that weird night i keep mentioning (march 29):

alex christian legend hero king tossed himself into buttons for act 2 while fellow legend hero king jordan isaac tossed himself out of buttons and into tommy boy!

* it’s something i didn’t consider bc i’ve never done this show on a professional level like this— each character has a track. like each little ensemble role. because tommy dances here during this part, and he crosses this way, and jordan can’t just do his personal track because tommy has to scab and talk to these people and etc. like that mapping out must be fucking insanity especially considering they have TWO SWINGS ONLY right now bc of past injuries etc. with the moscar debacle this weekend this has become pretty obvious but the way we were like “aw no alex… —where’s jack?? —ALEX????”

the lights came all the way on during intermission that day! so we had intermission for at least 10 extra minutes to switch out tommy for jordan and consequently jordan for alex, which was fine by me bc now i have fully lit pictures of the set for you all.

jack bromage (tommy boy) nearly dropped zach guest (ike? a swing?) on his fucking head! whoops!!! and then tommy got hurt and disappeared for act 2 LMAO mans needs to be more careful oh my god

*speaking on tommy though as a character in this version: tommy is integral to the newsies. he’s in trousers, takes the east side as a whole to report the strike to, and when he scabs… oh it’s a moment. crutchie is shocked (“tommy?”), finch says his “they think they can just waltz in here and take OUR jobs?” to tommy directly and shoves him down, which is the only act of violence finch rly commits.

*during the brawl, finch hangs back (around woodside’s overhang balc) and surveys. and there’s this one moment when mush is on the ground via wiesel who has a baseballl bat, and mush is pleading w/ wiesel not to hit him. wiesel grips mush’s suspender as if to hit him again and then the cop whistle blows, and wiesel drops mush and mush.. doesn’t get up. you can hear finch say “no.. no no no-” from woodside before running down and checking if mush is breathing, tapping him to wake him up and get up… ahh another newsie was next to mush that finch was checking on too but i wasn’t sure who- and then finch bolts with those two. and it’s when he’s helping those two offstage that crutchie calls for him, romeo, jack. like bro. the ACTUAL CHARACTER in this show is fantastic like that’s so small but literally the only reason finch can’t help crutchie is bc he’s doing his little sub-leader role and he can’t and it’s. sad. i was like oh wow. nuance. directorial thought. like they had to reason out that staging. it makes me think if they went thru the show and were actually like “what is each character doing during this fight” instead of “what is each actor doing during this fight” which is SOOOOO. impressive.

after king of new york, race and finch take the tables off down in front of brooklyn’s seating. i was sitting in brooklyn bc i scored an act 2 spot lmao. race says to finch “i don’t polish the tables, THEY do!” and pointed directly at me with a fire in his mf eyes. i was. startled and i also fell in love

going into headcanon territory rq for mush. there was a little joking snippet a while back on jacob’s insta story q&a with mush punching albert in the context of like “who could beat al in a fight”. so like mush might be a bit younger but maybe he’s a good fighter so finch seeing HIM down that badly during the fight…. slay. i just love it. it scares finch so bad. i wanna write the fight from his pov now

anyway gents this weekend we approach my final time of seeing this show (i’ve gone 5 times oops)… but definitely not my final analysis post. thank u for sticking by and giving them a lot of love it’s very cool they’re all under #analysis

[missmaywemeetagain]

Read Need Your Love Tonight ✈️💙🔥 NOW with early access HERE!

It's 1961 and we're headed to Hawaii for the U.S.S. Arizona Benefit Concert! ✈️ This one is an older woman and Elvis, so buckle up, babies! All the pics are from the day/night of the concert, just cuz I know a little visual stimulation never hurts...😏

SNEAK PEEK:

Finally, after what seems like forever, the main event begins. Your eardrums are blasted out by what must be at least two full minutes of young girls shrieking at the top of their lungs. Rightly so, you think as you watch the tall drink of water that is Elvis Presley strut onto the stage. You are blessing your lucky stars above for the divorce settlement because you are so close, you can see just how deliciously handsome the man is in person.

And, boy, is he.

Even having seen his perfect visage in movies on the big screen truly did not hold a candle to the broad-shouldered man in the glittering gold jacket standing on the stage before you. There is almost an innocence and perhaps even a nervousness in his deep-set dreamy blues. His dark hair is coiffed just perfectly and you watch his leg jiggle as he takes the microphone. A wave of heat rolls over you, flushing you from head to toe, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with the temperature in the arena.

There is a boyish playfulness to him you do not expect of the seasoned 26-year-old entertainer. He is indelibly charming and likable, not afraid to laugh at himself or the insanity of the crowd around him, but it’s not in a disparaging way. It’s more like he still can’t quite believe it’s all for him.

The reason he’s always fascinated you becomes obvious now that he’s right in front of you. He is a walking contradiction—delicate feminine features in a sharp masculine package, a deep low drawl coupled with a light warbling tenor. Singing lyrics that make you think the dirtiest things and then he turns around and does a spiritual. You have whiplash in the very best way.

You’re so distracted by his essence and the hypnotizing way he’s working the crowd that you almost forget about your sign. When One Night croons out of him with the promise of his “sweet helping hand,” a fire lights under you and you fumble around at your feet and flip the sign up for him to see.

Come on, come on, come on, you think, tapping your foot. Look over here.

At this point you will accept anything from the singer—a wink would suffice. Anything to let you know that you’re not just a washed-up divorcee who’s too old or ugly to find happiness with anyone else. Even if that happiness is just for one night because of one small moment, it’ll be worth it.

He’s so consumed by the song, his eyes closing and the rhythm pumping through his whole body, that you’re not sure he’ll see you. Your fingers grip the sign anxiously. You’d rather not have to hold it up for the rest of the concert, and you are kicking yourself for not remembering earlier, but you’ll do what you’ll have to do.

The end of the song comes, to which he adds a toe-curling groan, and when he opens his eyes, they land on you. A bolt of lightning strikes inside you, filling your veins with a scorching desire at the way those pretty eyes fall on your sign. You wait with bated breath as he reads each word silently, “Am I too old for you?” He gives you a quick cursory glance and then starts to walk away.

“Thank you,” he says to the crowd as screams fill the arena. The opening chords of Are You Lonesome Tonight start to play.

Fitting song choice, you think a little bitterly. Well, at least he saw me.

You find yourself fighting back tears, the split-second moment feeling anticlimactic and dissatisfying. A bit of a punch to the gut, really. It’s the dismissal that really stings, though your logical brain tells you he’s concentrating on his work and your sign is likely no more than a short distraction.

Suddenly, Elvis stops. He turns back towards you and steps in your direction. Your breath catches in your throat when he points at you. It is as if his finger is connected to you by an invisible string, and you find yourself sitting up taller and leaning forward on the edge of your seat. Then, he tilts the microphone away for a moment, his infamous lip curling up into a delicious boyish smile.

“Never,” he says, looking you straight in the eyes.

...

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[atla-recluse]

About That One Moment in "Another Five More Short Graybles":

Content warning: A few references to abuse and abuser-victim dynamics, plus some images/artwork that some may find very disturbing or triggering.

Conclusion:

I truly believe that this moment, and maybe more-so what likely happens after it, are the moment that solidified Lemongrab 1's complete shift into tyranny and unlimited cruelty. When I say that, I'm not just talking about the toy and his anger over it. It's not and was never (just) about the toy (seriously, this dude could and would have snapped over anything).

It's about OG LG's increasingly intense need for control over everyone and everything and his ever-growing layer of extreme rage over...stuff from the past...that is always there. Taking is a bit further, it's actually about how LG viewed himself and his impulsive/compulsive behavior at that point.

Background:

So, a lot of people seemed to have thought/still think that LG is lacking in self-awareness, but I think this couldn't be further from the truth. LG is hyper-aware of himself and his actions. He knows there's something "wrong" with him. He (and those around him) just don't know what. So everyone in and out of universe find it easier to just be vague about the problem or not touch it at all.

I'll tell you what I think is wrong with him though: He's can't figure out how best to showcase empathy with others, or even fully decide if he truly wants to at all, so he typically just chooses not to.

(Also, he seems to be naturally more persnickity and "intense/passionate" than others, including LG2 even. At least when it comes to his beliefs and convictions. People irl who are like that can imagine, because of how we sometimes come across to others, even if we're trying to change.)

Wait, what? I'm actually arguing that LG1 is/was capable of empathy, you ask? YES I am. Because he was. The moments were small, but they were there and were very significant to those who care. OG LG had what I'd call "limited" empathy as well as "optional" empathy. He wasn't the best with others' emotions at initial meetings but he could understand concepts like that of insult, bonding (but couldn't do it himself at first) and not wanting to die or get hurt. (I might finish a post that explains some examples in the near future.)

He also chose who it was he would bestow his empathy upon for random and not-as-random reasons. In this sense, he's not that different from many of us. I also feel as though he could have had his sense of empathy increased and smoothed out with proper nurturing. But as we all know, that didn't happen.

Conclusion Expansion (1):

We see throughout his arc, that LG1 increasingly worsened over time. Not solely though. For a blip of a period, he seemed to be improving, happy even. That period was of course when he was still close with LG2. Then, the fight happened.

Slight (Noteworthy) Sidetrack:

It was so violent, even without showing us the gore. I'm actually a little shocked that there are people who think that scene is mainly or even only hilarious. It's terrifying to me whenever I see it, to the point where I often prefer to avoid it. That scene, to me, was yet another example of how much of an abuser LG1 has become, since his physical or emotional abandonment and/or since his creation. Is that obvious yet? LG1 was not just "lol random11!! hahaha craziiii!". He was insanely abusive. He was arguably abused himself, but that doesn't change the fact that he was an abuser, too.

He even showed all the classic signs of an abuser as far back as "You Made Me" but, really, it was truly first shown in "Too Young".

Conclusion Expansion (2):

His brother (Which I think was meant to be seen as being to LG1 whatever you wanted to see him as, homophobes!) along with Lemonhope, got the worst of it and perfectly illustrate two different types of lives and mentalities of many abuse victims.

One becomes, in a way, very self-centered and wants to escape no matter what, but stops thinking about what the rest of his family may be going through, also. The other wants to help others going through the same and won't leave them behind until the they have escaped on some level, even if it kills him (assuming he had the option to leave).

And tell we don't know plenty of irl examples where other families also went through an older sibling or partner taking advantage of and mistreating a younger sibling or partner. (Don't think too hard about the LG's being "brother-lovers", alright? It's all symbolic, anyway.)

Now a big question I and likely others have is this: Is he really "just like that?"

Frankly, I think he partially or fully either inherited it or learned it from his experiences. Or someone else... But I digress.

So yeah, I don't believe LG was just/solely born that way. Something about him changed sometime after he was born, I feel. But again, I can't quite say what because it was left ambiguous.

When he attacked his best friend for the first time and in such a gruesome manner... Well...ask yourself how that scene probably continued for the two of them? We actually saw the least scary part. Here's what I now headcanon as being the "right after":

LG has always had issues with his view of self and it causes him much pain. He doesn't know how to express the problem, so he basically just spazzes out. He seemed to have improved once his brother/partner came along, but in fact, this was only an illusion.

LG never properly healed from his trauma or bad habits, because no one—not himself and certainly not others—worked with him to treat and eventually heal that trauma and reverse those bad habits. (It doesn't mean they didn't want to, though.) It was only a matter of time before he lost it on his brother and people over something petty. Two beings can never be exactly the same anyway, "twin" or not.

(I'm not sure what the name of the artist who made this is. It's an amazing and very emotional piece, though.)

So with those awful images in mind, I think LG1 after devouring most of his own partner, may have paused for at least a moment, as LG2 managed to crawl away and look at him with such fear and hurt (perhaps looking like a reflection of himself) that LG1—if his self-awareness was on 100 that day—looked back at the mess he'd made of LG2's body and how their relationship would never be the same now, and decided "Haha wow...I AM a monsteerrrr!!!!".

And from there, he decided to just lean into the persona completely. After all, what did he have to lose? What important figure in his life up to this point didn't see him that way, anyway? Now even the partner he once loved and who once loved him, did too. Might as well accept it and just solely act like what everyone already knows him to be. Which to LG means just act like his usual self, btw. Control freaks like him can only relax for so long...

And that, everybody, is why that scene in AFMSG is so significant; and imo, devastating.

It should also be noted that despite what we see LG1 do to LG2, that he doesn't completely devour him (why, we don't know) and that he gave him (likely created for him) a tool that would allow him to still move around and didn't give him a shock collar. So LG2 is still a cut above the others in LG1's mind, it seems, but that doesn't mean that things hadn't reached rock bottom for them. They just had further to go, is all.

LG1 clearly no longer pedestalized LG2 anymore (and vice versa) and on some level likely blames LG2 for how he himself chose to react (pretty on-brand for both of them). Hence why, like some abusers, he seemed to now be withholding affection from LG2, wouldn't hear or accept LG2's own thoughts and opinions, (may have) starved him and why he pushed him down into and kept him in a subordinate position (something we once actually see him physically do to him at the dinner table).

Oh and here. Have another self-aware Lemongrab, far beyond post brother-attack:

This wild lemon man knew he was the monster/villain of the story at this point. 🍋 🥲

"Looking for something?

Well, you found me; Fat Lemongrab." - Original Lemongrab

[olivieraa]

Sometimes I think about how critical thinking isn't a core part of people's lives, especially adults, and I get sad. There has to be like, an activation moment. Something has to activate it. Kinda like people who say they took LSD and it opened their minds. Like that but without any dangerous drugs.

Or sometimes its not a moment, but a few small moments piled up. That's what it was like for me (and kinda anyone I've seen get into radical feminism).

In the earliest feminist days of tumblr, we'll go for 2012, like, the most extreme thing you'd see is a "men's tears" mug as the ultimate form of misandry. By 2013 tumblr was defo known as the feminist and gay rights website. By 2014 it got insanely political, it became widespread and has continued on this 10 long year journey of becoming extremely anti-women and anti-gay, which sucks bc it was the opposite of reddit. And now both sites are the same.

But to revert back to my personal experiences with it, you can see it. On the earliest pages of my blog. I reblogged things from friends and I would tag these posts with confusion. From porn, to asexuality, to religion, to kinks, to makeup, etc. I just... knew those posts felt wrong to me. But ALL my friends were reblogging them with no tags. So they either completely agreed with said posts or partially agreed. But I was the only one questioning those posts.

But also, I was also the only non-American, which turned out to be a very important difference. Like, I would reblog some things and say shit like "idk how I feel about this post... but I'll reblog it and do some research or look into it later". Americans have a.................... very hard problem doing that.

And then by actually looking into those things, ACTUALLY. LOOKING. INTO. THOSE. THINGS. you find out there's a huge problem there, actually. By using critical thinking, you realise all these "feminist" things are super anti-women. But liberal women, esp liberal American women, are so convinced, without looking into it, that they're not anti-women. And there's so much clear evidence. Like its really clear, really obvious.

Just so its not a long paragraph, I wont go into every detail on this, but to take one category - Beauty standards. Even standards in general. Lets go with those awful standards men have to deal with. The two things they claim are constantly brought up. Height and dick size. Especially height. He HAS to be over 6ft. This is brought up constantly. But then there's also so many videos debunking both those standards, and those videos (aside from one memorable one) were made by women. Basically saying shit about how most women are still dating men only slightly taller than them, and most women collectively agree that size doesn't matter.

Now the beauty standards for women. Almost every single inch of a woman has to fit a preference, from having big boobs to a narrow waist to big hips to a big ass, but also not be too big or small, but the exact size a man wants it cause weight distribution works that way. From men wanting "natural" women when you can look at any pic of man's ultimate fantasy Pamela Anderson without her makeup and everyone telling her she looks like she's sick or dying. Same with J.Lo. Men want women to look as natural as she can WHILE wearing makeup. Like, she has to look like she's not wearing it. Again, to fit exactly the way he wants it. Have long af hair but shave every inch if you bar eyebrows cause hair is very bad and ugly. To not be muscular because that's too masculine so basically don't stay at the gym too long to train those biceps, but also if a man attacks you on a night out to the club and you can't defend yourself cause you're so delicate and feminine, you just shouldn't be going out without him! Also dont get old, no greys no no. I've seen men bash cosmetic surgery while their biggest fantasies end up being women who have had cosmetic surgery, but men are so STUPID they cant tell unless its really obvious. Like women knew for a long time that Ariana Grande did a bunch of things to her face, but men thought she was so insanely hot. But would bash Kylie Jenner for what she did to her face bc the differences on Kylie were much more obvious. Ok I really could go on and on here, its way too long.

Men end up saying shit like "oh my girl likes me with a beard, she hates when I shave". The liberal feminist girlfriend, who has never heard of critical thinking, will nod her head in agreement and say, "yep, that's my preference." Oh dont worry, honey. He loves your preference. Your preferences generally boil down to him not having to do jack shit. "Oh I'm a feminist but I'd definitely be turned off if my man shaved his legs and armpits. But I shave mine because I want to!" Yes, again, no effort on his part no no. But effort on your part yes yes. Because you want to, mhmm.

So his natural state is your preference. He's totally sitting there groaning like, "Ugh I'm so good to my girlfriend! the look I'm sporting is based on what she likes. All I have to do is wake up, brush my teeth, maybe shower and boom. I'm ready for her. Again, I'm so good to my girlfriend. Oh btw she loves my effortless dad bod too. That's why I don't go to the gym. For HER obviously. I'm just so good to her. Look what I do for her."

And then her mindset is, "Oh I shave on an almost daily basis for me. Not for him. I don't conform to standards for him. I shave, pluck my eyebrows, keep my hair long and inconvenient, overdo it on my skincare, have pretty lashes and nails and dress up in cute outfits and keep in shape, buy cute lingerie, the list goes on and on. I do that for me! They happen to be his standards, sure, but its for me! Makeup, shaving, skin routines are all feminist because they're a choice! And feminism at its core is choice! It's definitely not that I'm afraid if I decide to act exactly like him and let my leg hair grow out to the point its a competition between us, or get a cute pixie hair cut so its less effort to wash, or not wear makeup and all that, that he'll then decide to look elsewhere! Definitely not! And its very un-feminist to think that I'm making these choices (where I put in an insane amount of effort for my scrub of a boyfriend who does absolutely nothing and yet I'm insanely attracted to him) for me and me alone!"

Like... You can ofc do those things. Nobody is telling you not to. The problem, the main problem here, is you are deluding yourself into this idea that every decision you've made in terms of beauty standards, was a choice you made that wasn't heavily influenced by other factors. From standards pushed on you since you were a kid. From insecurity. From fear.

I wear makeup. Almost daily. But I acknowledge it for what it is. It is absolutely not a feminist act or a feminist choice. A feminist act would be rejecting makeup and standards. But that then is considered a radical act. Thus, its a part of radical feminism. And I'm not a radical feminist for a few reasons, but one of them would be that I'm just not brave enough to believe in my natural state. I'm not brave enough to wear a dress during summer with hairy legs. I'm not brave enough to go to the shops without giving myself at least 15 mins beforehand to put makeup on.

So many women refuse to give up shaving and wearing makeup, and that's fine (not that its fine, its actually awful but I cant blame them). However, where radfems get pissed off is the "makeup is power, because its a choice!" liberal feminist bullshit. These women absolutely refuse to believe that they're conforming to standards for anyone other than themselves. That it's still a feminist action, and that they are feminists themselves!

Imagine going to a cocktail party. And there's 50 men and 50 women all dressed up. What are majority of the women likely to be wearing? Dresses. Some in trousers, sure, but mostly dresses. Let's say 40 out of the 50 women. I can guarantee you, 100% of those women have perfectly smooth, shaved legs and armpits. Every single one of them in a dress. And lets pretend 30 of those 40 women in those dresses claim to be feminists. They're still conforming to the exact same standards as the 10 women who aren't feminists. Perfectly shaved, makeup on, hair done, nails done (perhaps even made appointments for all of them). Absolutely none of these women made the choice to wear a dress but keep the legs hairy. Or wear a dress but no makeup. Why? Fear. The amount of judgement they would get in a room of 100 people. What are men doing? They showered (maybe). Possibly trimmed their beard? Yeah. That's about it.

Like why is the critical thinking so hard for them. Literally, LITERALLY, just stop and think. That's it. That's IT. Think, and question why you're about to do that thing. Like actually look into it.

This is so so hard for people, but there's nobody worse at it than liberal feminist women.

And it was BECAUSE I would see these posts on my dash for years back in the day and actually research the posts, that I got in trouble with my libfem friends for not just like, believing these posts were right and accurate and I shouldn't question them, is why I knew liberal feminism had this awful cult mindset, and these women will literally wish death on you for not agreeing with them.

Absolute crazy nonsense.

This post is so long and yet I only said a fraction of what I wanted to say on beauty standards alone. Imagine the porn talk, or the transitioning talk. I dont even think I could condense either of those as much as I did with beauty standards.

The absolute refusal for people to use their brains before making a so-called "choice" is why I have so little hope for humans in general. There's just no thinking going on in there. This is why I'm just..... so not bothered anymore about discussions. They lead absolutely nowhere because the person I'm talking to has convinced themselves of something with very little to go by. Prob just because they were told to believe a thing and they were like, "ok!"

[superfluouskeys]

Oh no these asks are GREAT I want to ask like ten of them ummmmmmmm having Restraint: 3 (vibe check) 4 ( 👀 ) 17 (especially curious abt your editing process?? I am so greedy for your tradecraft secrets) aaaaand 19 (I recently researched….. doormats. that made me feel very sane about my choices please tell me about yours)

GOOD EVENING i have finally returned to what is truly important, my tumblr ask box.

3. how you feel about your current WIP

JNSDKJFSDKNJ NOT THE VIBE CHECK but you know, I had a smol breakthrough like two? nights ago that i have yet to actually follow up on LOL. I had this transition section where i was like i need to impart some Vibes and some Character Arc but i'm literally boring myself rn, and I think I have figured out in a vague sense how to make the transition do a lot more work for me, so that's good!

In general I'm extremely excited about some Major Points of the thing, just currently have to do an inordinate amount of sowing seeds for those major points in a way that's like subtle enough that I'm not hitting the reader over the head but also exists enough that the careful reader will pick up on it you feel?

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

Side note before I even start answering...sometimes I think about how many of my """"""story ideas""""""""""" are just glorified weather metaphors. I am genuinely not sure what happened in my brain to make me like this. What has the weather EVER done to me.

Uhm so anyway since I'm thinking about Stormchaser, definitely a story idea and not just a weather metaphor in a trench coat, why don't I tell you a little bit about my characters because I'm very normal about them.

The first person [main character we are tentatively naming Emily] meets in the city is Nolan, who owns a small bar and restaurant that she won in a messy divorce. She puts on an act of tough-and-wry-and-world-weary, but she's very soft-hearted and has a bit of a savior complex, a bit of that 'i don't want what happened to me to happen to anyone else' vibe.

She has taken in Asher and Aislynn, siblings from a prominent and wealthy family who have had a [very mysterious] falling out with their parents and are thus in need of a place to stay. Asher is guarded and protective, while Aislynn is very open and warm. People often perceive her as naive, but Aislynn actively chooses to see the best in others.

Aislynn has magic, which is the source of many of her problems. (This is like kind of a reveal but the foreshadowing is painfully obvious LOL) Back when I was thinking about Stormchaser as a multi-path story, one major decision point was going to be, in a moment where the player character is hurt (not gravely, but still not in great shape), choosing whether to allow Aislynn to use magic to heal her. It would have a huge impact on the MC's relationships with most of the other major characters, since most of them have very strong opinions either about magic or about Aislynn herself. Aislynn is also the reason I ended up wanting to write the story--I had an overarching idea for the plot, but I got soooo attached to her so quickly!

17. talk about your writing and editing process

as we all know my writing process is just getting possessed by some sort of weather-related entity and then not sleeping until well after the sun has risen, so I think that's pretty clear and doesn't raise any sort of questions or concerns.

if no weather entity possession, my strategy has become "just force yourself to write the painful and clunky sentences at the speed of molasses and then look at it again tomorrow" -- because most of the time the next day I can fix what was clunky really easily bc I made space in my brain by getting the ideas down, and sometimes, extra special treat, I reread what I wrote and it's literally not even bad I was just in a mood LOL.

I feel like a very large percentage of my editing is just being extremely insane about word choice. Sometimes I go back and forth on word choice/word order/very very minor sentence structure things literally long after the thing is published and I am trying to tell myself to let it go. But tbh I don't really have a process for this, it's just what jumps out at me when I reread it as being awkward or not quite what I was going for. I'm probably like this because I used to be such an insufferable snob (used to be!!!!) and needlessly chose so many ten dollar words that I think I have a better-than-average sense of when simpler language is better vs. when you need a more complex word to describe the thing. So it sort of depends on the character whether I do a lot of deleting or adding of extra fluff and filler words LOL.

I'm alllll about limited POV and creating a headspace/thought pattern for characters, so I do a lot of thinking about what the specific character knows, how the specific character would express something, or whether she even has the language for what she's experiencing. I really love finding ways of conveying an emotion that the reader will recognize but the character doesn't!!

On a more macro scale I think I do a lot of, like, "this section is boring me. why?" In a story you really don't want anything that's doing nothing, and you definitely don't want a whole section that's not doing much. Sometimes because I try to make my dialogue as natural as possible the conversation starts to kind of wander LOL, and so I have to be like okay hold up what are we talking about what needs to be established here. And then usually jump back a bit and figure out how to lead the conversation in a more pointed direction.

And a lot of the time idk how much transitional stuff to include, so I'll be off on some rambling journey like uhmmmm do I need this??? when do we get to the fun part???? Which, like, not to say the fun part will be easier to write or anything, but a lot of time that feeling of boredom is bc what I'm doing either isn't necessary and can be accomplished in a way that's more fun for me personally OR it's fine it just needs to be pulling a lot more weight in what it's telling the reader. I find I sometimes get caught up in, like, a story beat that would "make sense here" as opposed to a story beat I personally like.

Like, as an example, I've been thinking (for soooo long yes i know) about how to continue the chance you take, and I remember I put in my notes that like a sparring scene would make sense, where you know it's all a metaphor and there's some quippy dialogue or w/e. And ik a lot of people like that kind of scene! And idk, sometimes I do too! But like........I don't want to do that lol! And in fact I think it doesn't actually fit with the vibe of the story, which is so much less about the violence surrounding it and so much more about the quiet moments in between. But I'm literally just thinking this now as I'm typing this. Like I didn't have a good reason for why I didn't want to progress the story that way until literally right now.

Which I guess leads me to another very important editing tool: pacing my kitchen like a crazy person explaining the problem I'm having to myself so I can try to talk through why it's bothering me LOL! as you can see it's extremely efficient and time-sensitive. six to ten business days turnaround for sure.

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

chickens :)

I'm genuinely drawing a blank LOL, I've definitely looked into a few things I can vividly remember (boats/ships and how crews and shifts work for TCYT, horse riding/cart pulling for scorched earth, how animal testing works for uhmmm that one moicy fic, oh and I remember i looked a lot into bird symbolism for the prisoner LOL) but I think mostly what I do is intensely study the source material, and I haven't run into that many situations where I felt like I needed to make sure I knew about something in the actual world and not the fictional one LOL! Wow I'm boring! I want to know about doormats!!!!!

fic writer asks!