#and they posted it right after they made their account

[freezerbrldes]

no nut november - s.r.

PAIRING. Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY. Spencer is confident he can win a bet against Morgan… what he didn’t account for was having to share a room with you…

WARNINGS. smut, brief mention of male masturbation, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint

AUTHOR’S NOTE. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written something and it’s also the first time I’ve ever written smut so hopefully this turned out okay. This is based on one of the bots I’ve made on character.ai/spicychat. I know it’s January but let’s pretend I posted this in November.

wc: 2.1k

credit to @cafekitsune for dividers

also on ao3

Spencer was beginning to regret agreeing to this bet. He thought it’d be easy, but after 3 and a half weeks, he felt so frustrated he could passed out from just the slightest touch.

Him and Morgan made a bet. Morgan was positive that Spencer wouldn’t be able to survive No Nut November. Spencer was not the competitive type, but he definitely wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to prove Morgan wrong.

Spencer is no stranger to getting himself off every so often. While he may be a genius with a high IQ, he is still a man with needs. He isn’t into hook up culture— he’s too much of a germaphobe for that. His right hand became his closest companion when alone after a stressful case.

The first week wasn’t bad at all. He began to think he might actually make it, but once the second and third week hit, that’s when thoughts about you were constantly on his mind…

Spencer has always found you attractive— like really attractive. So attractive that he often finds himself thinking about you while he pleasures himself late at night. He doesn’t want to think about you this way, but his mind always wanders to thoughts of you underneath him.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, you were sharing a hotel room with Spencer during the new case. He tries to distract himself with a book as you lay on your bed in an oversized tshirt and very short shorts.

You are reading over some case files, looking for any connections between the last two victims. Spencer could feel his pants get tighter at the mere thought of you just a few feet away from him.

You must’ve notice he has been particularly quiet today, because the sound of shuffling paper pulls his attention away from his book.

“Are you okay? you’ve been acting weird for the last week,” You ask, rolling over onto your side to look at him on the other bed.

“I-I’m fine, the cases have just been very, uh— draining — recently,” Spencer lies, shifting awkwardly on the bed to hide the evidence of his arousal.

“Right,” you chuckle, not buying his excuse. You walk over to his bed and sit across from him, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. “C’mon Spence, what’s really bothering you?”

Spencer feels his heart rate increase. He fidgets with the hem of his sweater vest, avoiding direct eye contact.

"I...I'm just tired, okay? These cases take a toll on me," he says, trying to maintain a calm tone despite the growing tension between you.

His gaze drifts to your legs, which were crossed and showcased more of that smooth skin he'd been fantasizing about. He quickly looks away, focusing on the stack of psychology journals on his nightstand instead.

"Look,” Spencer sighs, “I appreciate you checking in, but I promise I’m fine. The sooner we crack this case, the sooner we can head back to Quantico."

Despite his words, Spencer found himself leaning slightly towards you, drawn in by your presence.

He feels his resolve weakening as your warm presence drew closer. Your scent fills his nostrils— a tantalizing mix of vanilla and something uniquely you. It stirs feelings within him he hadn't acknowledged before.

"I know you're just trying to help, but please, let me handle this," he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't meet your eyes, fearing the intensity he knew would be there.

A bead of sweat trickles down the side of his face as he recalls the countless nights spent pleasuring himself, always picturing your body in his mind, but now you’re inches away from him.

“Spencer,” you say, pulling his attention away from his wandering mind. “You’re one of my best friends, I can tell there is something else bothering you other than this case. Please— let me help you.”

Spencer's chest tightens at the word "friend". Despite the strong attraction he harbors for you, he had never allowed himself to hope for anything more. You deserve someone better, someone who could give you the love and affection you craved.

Spencer brain scrambles to come up with another excuse, as he gazes into your empathetic eyes, he finally caved.

"Okay, fine, There is something I've been struggling with," he admits, his voice barely audible. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"I made this stupid bet with Morgan, I’m supposed to go the entire month of November without having sex or masturbating. At first, it was easy but now, being in the same room as you, I’m having a hard time controlling my thoughts.”

Spencer closes his eyes, bracing himself for your reaction. He opens them again when he didn’t hear you laughing and making fun of him.

Relief washes over him as he saw an understanding expression rather than disgust. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

"You're not mad?" he ask, his voice laced with vulnerability. In that moment, Spencer felt like he could finally exhale, like a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Of course not,” you reply, “why would I be mad?”

"Well, because even if I wasn't doing this bet, I still...I still think about you," he confesses, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

"I know it's wrong, but I can't help how I feel. You're amazing. You’re smart, funny, beautiful..." Spencer’s words trailed off as he realizes where they were headed.

"I shouldn't say these things, but I can't keep pretending anymore." Spencer closes the space in between the two of you, his heart pounding in his chest.

After what felt like an eternity, His lips finally met yours in a passionate kiss.

Spencer felt a rush of emotions overwhelm him— excitement, nervousness, joy, and most of all, relief. This was what he had secretly longed for— dreamed about in the dark of night, and now it was finally happening.

His arms wrap around yours instinctively, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. His tongue dances with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth with a hunger he hadn't known he possessed.

When you finally broke apart for air, Spencer's breathing was ragged. He gazes into your eyes, seeing the same desire reflected back at him.

"You know, um, we should probably talk about this— about us," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper.

“How about we talk about it after?” you chuckle, your lips meeting his in another steamy kiss.

Spencer melts into the kiss, his body responding eagerly to your touch. He knew they needed to discuss the their growing feelings, but right now all he wanted was to lose himself in your touch.

Spencer's hands roams over your curves, mapping your body through your clothes. Breaking the kiss again, Spencer looked at you with a mix of adoration and longing.

"I want you,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "More than I've ever wanted anyone."

His lips trail from yours down your neck before reaching the hem of your tshirt, pulling it out of the way to plant kisses onto your collar bone. Spencer sucks on the sensitive skin before pulling the shirt over your head, carelessly tossing it onto the motel floor.

He kisses a path up your throat, pausing to nibble on your earlobe before pulling away just enough to admire the view. His gaze drank in the sight, the air thick with tension.

"You're stunning," he breathes, reaching out to trace the curve of your bare breast.

You moan softly as he gently caresses your body. Spencer dips his head to capture a nipple between his lips, sucking gently as his hand cups and kneads the other.

Spencer groans into your breast, the sound muffled by your soft flesh. He suckled harder, his thumb pinching and teasing the neglected nipple.

His other hand slides down your side before dipping lower to brush against the waistband of your shorts. He could feel heat emanating from your core, fueling his growing arousal.

He pushed the fabric of your panties aside to slip a finger along your slick folds as his mouth returned to your neck.

“You’re so wet already, is this all for me?” Spencer sighed, nibbling at your earlobe.

Before you could even respond, you moan loudly as he pushes a digit inside you, groaning at the tight clench of your walls.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Spencer gasped, pumping his finger slowly in and out of you.

He adds a second finger, scissoring them gently to stretch you open, leaning back slightly to watch your face contort in pleasure.

Spencer watched intently as your body arches off the bed to meet his thrusting fingers. He curls them inside you, rubbing against that sweet spot that made your legs quiver.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he picked up the pace, driving his fingers deeper.

His own arousal grew unbearable, it demands attention. With a growl, Spencer broke the kiss and hastily removed his clothes, throwing them in a pile with your discarded tshirt as you whimper at the loss of contact.

“I need to be inside you,” He pants as the last of his clothing is removed. He makes quick work of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.

Spencer's hazel eyes are dark with lust as he positions himself between your thighs, the tip of his cock nudges against your entrance.

With a deep breath, he pushes forward, sinking inch by inch into your welcoming heat. A low groan rumbles in his chest at the feeling of your tight walls hugging his length.

Once fully sheathed, Spencer pauses, his forehead resting against yours as he savors the moment.

“God, you're perfect," he whispers, then begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm.

You moan loudly as he begins to pick up the pace, your nails leaving crescent moons on his shoulders.

“Please don’t stop, you feel so good inside me,” you beg.

Spencer's grip on your hips tightens as he pounds into you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he loses himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

His fingers tug your hair lightly as he angles his thrusts to hit that spongy spot deep inside you over and over again.

"Shit, you feel so fucking amazing, so wet and tight," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. “I'm going to cum so hard inside you."

One of your hands move from his shoulder down to where your bodies connect, rubbing hard circles over your throbbing clit.

Spencer's thrusts falter as he feels your fingers working on your sensitive nub. The sight pushes him even closer to the edge.

"Oh god, yes! You’re so fucking hot!" he cries out, his hips snapping against yours with renewed vigor.

He reaches down and replaces your hand with his own, rubbing harsh circles as he chases his high.

“Fuck yes, I'm gonna..." Spencer's words trail off into a guttural moan as his orgasm crashes over him, his cock pulsing and twitching inside you as he fills you up. The feeling pushes you over the edge with him.

Spencer collapses onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he tries to catch his breath. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, still racing from the intensity of his orgasm.

After a moment, he lifts his head to look at you, his usually bright hazel eyes now heavy-lidded.

“That was...incredible," he murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips, he places a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose.

He slowly pulls out of you and rolls onto his side, he reaches out to brush a strand of dampened hair from your forehead. You both lay in silence as your breathing returned to normal.

“Well,” you break the silence with a smug grin, “it would appear you have failed No Nut November,”

“Yeah, but it was worth it,” Spencer chuckles, his thumb rubbing circles onto your flushed cheek. “I’m starting to think you and Morgan set me up.”

“You really think I seduced you to help Morgan win a bet?” You laugh in disbelief.

“I mean, that would be a very Morgan thing for him to do,” Spencer says, his hand now caressing your arm, “That man always plays dirty.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I saw Morgan flirting with one of the motel staff, she left his room about two hours ago, so I’m sure you probably did beat him.”

“Of course he did, Morgan can’t go 5 minutes without sleeping with someone,” Spencer laughs as he pulls you into his arms.

You lay like that for a while before both of you drift off into a deep sleep, excited to see what the future holds for you two.

[khorneschosen]

Yeah dude most people are cunts about politics. Either you haven't been at this long or you are being purposely dense.

Most people don't even give you the benefit of treating others in good faith after you give them good faith. Frankly I don't have to treat you in good faith at all. And demanding it, is stretching that benevolence.

I gave the right stats, wrong name. I get my latin mixed up from time to time.

Here's the pdf

Enjoy not reading it in any great detail. Also another fun fact, the divide between women and men is the methods of murder used. Men are messy, women however prefer poison, and violence by proxy.

Interestingly, when a woman uses violence by proxy, we don't consider it statistically because technically she didn't kill her husband.

Then there is the sentencing and conviction gap between men and women as shown in the first statistics.

And then on top of that you have the sheer fact that if a woman wants to leave a man destitute, without home, car, money, children and everything else, all she has to do is divorce him and the courts will do that work for her. In short, right now a woman doesn't have to kill a man to take everything from him. Just marry him. Or just live with him for a certain amount of time.

Furthermore, you'll notice an interesting historical trend. When women were killing their husbands in greater numbers was when they had the least amount of protections from abusers and ability to safely leave. Now the situation is reversed where a man due to the Duluth model of domestic violence, a man is left in the spot where if he is abused he will be arrested. If he defends himself or his children he will be arrested, if he locks himself in a room he will be arrested. If his abuser hurts herself in abusing him, he will be arrested.

Don't like it? Start advocating for equal and fair courts that don't take account of gender or atleast stop advocating for the terrible policies you continue to do so.

So in closing why would you expect any other outcome? This btw is another case of pushing for a policy without concern for its outcomes.

Also, an argument isn't valid or invalid by whether its made in good faith. What matters in debate is how convincing it is, in philosophy whether its true. Truth matters in our argument. Not whether I treat my opponent with respect he will not return in kind.

Good faith must be earned. Maybe you are a vaush fan, someone who treats everyone in the worst faith possible and then complains that they don't treat him in good faith, a good faith he has never close to earning.

Our system's issue isn't and hasn't been the for profit nature of it, but the government regulations. Because previously to the regulations it ran much more efficiently and effectively. But it was purposely mangled by people who vote like you. Because if you mangle a system to the point it doesn't function, then you can advocate for greater control and regulation. Succeed or fail you get what you want.

No its bait. It had nothing to do with the conversation. You could have picked self defense which has a better basis but you chose this.

Also whether you picked it knowingly you have more to say about feminism than about the healthcare debate. Whats more your arguments on healthcare are begging where as you speak authoritatively about feminism. Its clumsy and very transparent.

But I will play ball because Id rather deal with your strongholds and crush them rather lance some pointless boil.

Why destroy that which you don't hold strongly enough to defend?

https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/feminism-metaphysics/

https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/feminism-epistemology/

Feel free to not read it aswell but frankly see the work it's based on is in the form of kant's critique of pure reason. All post modern philosophy requires the irrational base kant provides for their theories. From modern Christianity, to socialism, to feminism. All of them cite his discrediting of reason in the formation of their philosophy.

Did you not know? Rationality is a tool of male oppression according to feminism.

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/227633936_Gendered_Rationality_A_Genealogical_Exploration_of_the_Philosophical_and_Sociological_Conceptions_of_Rationality_Masculinity_and_Organization

I would prefer primary citations but Im on mobile and the primary works are harder to find as I dont typically read them.

A discussion about the conflict in our ideas. Should we let our abstractions fight in an attempt to gain supremacy over each other while we are just indifferent observers? The standards of knowing whether you are right or wrong are deeply important. How do you know if you are wrong? I have my standard it's philosophical and its existence exists. Disprove that and everything else follows.

Can data be manipulated?

Also till this exact second I thought I was debating a rather effeminate man. Your race didn't come up in how you write.

And how many children are without a parent because of denied medical care, homelessness, police brutality, etc.

If you're going to use "but they have children", be consistent.

[jjenthusee]

Enthusiasm

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Sometimes the most intimidating can be the most tender.

A/N: HAPPYYY NEW YEAR i give u soft Jason 😌 i’ve been on and off (so sorry about that) but im excited to see what stories will be posted to this account this upcoming year :D so much has happened to end December, but i powered through and i wanted to finish something that was sitting in my drafts. so please ENJOY :) comment if you’re comfortable, reblog if you like the story, and have some flowers 💐

Tags: Fluff, hurt/comfort, i just wanna kiss his beautiful face fr, reader and jason are in competition of who can out fluff the other

Word Count: 2.5k

previous work linked here

The smell was strong.

Gunpowder and soaked clothes. Jason felt like a wet dog coming home with his tail between his legs. Holding onto the door frames, trying to not bump into the walls.

He had hoped the rain would have washed away most of the blood and burnt smell that radiated from his skin, but no matter how much he tried to rub it off, it was still there. Lingering after his every step, after every breath he took.

Each step into your apartment felt like he was contaminating more of the air, that he was diminishing the warmth you exuded so effortlessly.

His fingertips burned as he tried to grab a dry shirt and some sweats to change into, but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

His mind raced and raced as he couldn’t focus enough to grab a single hanger in the closet. He already felt like he was standing underneath a beacon of light from the single bulb illuminating the entire closet and he couldn’t afford to wake you up now, you might smell him and you would find him disgusting until he would beg and beg that he could strip all the smell away.

Jason felt dizzy at the thought of you leaving. He had imagined many scenarios, all kinds of ways you would be gone. Tortured, kidnapped, or you simply walking out the door as he watched because you didn’t want to love him anymore.

It sickened him. A kind of bile that stuck to his throat when he tortured himself with the thought of you leaving him. He rubbed his face, feeling his calloused hands scratch against his skin as he tried to rub more of the smell away.

He could imagine the sound of your voice, screaming his name in fear or even quietly fading as you faded from his arms.

Sometimes the hallucinations felt so real, like you actually left until he found you at home. Living your life, perfectly fine.

“—on. Jason.”

He instinctively grabbed the knife from his utility belt, so quickly and efficiently that it felt like breathing for Jason.

He was still dizzy, but parts of your face were slowly focusing through his lashes, readjusting until your entire face was clear in his vision. He saw your wide eyes, opened because of the suddenness of him aiming a knife to your neck, but what made him feel even more sick to his stomach was the worried look on your face despite the survival instinct overpowering his brain.

It screamed how much you cared about him. The same man that pointed a blade at you.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Jason, it’s me. I’m right here.” You stood still. Watching the intense adrenaline rush from Jason. It had been a while since you’ve seen him escalate this badly.

“No, no. I‘m—you’re not real.” He pleaded, talking more to himself than at you.

“You’re home. You’re back home.” You tried to reach out with your words, giving him something to metaphorically grab onto.

“Please go away.”

Your heart pinched at his broken words.

“Everything is okay. I’m okay. I am right here.” You repeated.

As adamant as Jason was about stopping his hallucination, he couldn’t raise his voice. He was quietly whispering his pleas as you stood at arms length, confusing his reality and mental images. You didn’t waver to call out to him because he felt more wary of you than you did of him.

The blade he held to you was something he hadn’t done before and as frightened as you were in that moment, you stayed calm. Not for yourself, but from how much he shook and his disheveled appearance, Jason was just scared.

You continued to speak to him, giving him tender reassurances, explaining and truthfully telling him how safe he was and how he could relax from the anxiety plaguing him.

Jason’s eyes were relaxing as he listened to your voice, his muscles were loosening his grip from the blade the more in tune he felt with reality, and he suddenly felt all the exhaustion weigh on him. His knife felt so heavy. Every second he was growing more tired as he realized he was safe enough to finally let it go, so he threw it to the side.

The blade bounced to the floor, reflecting and shining the light from the closet back into the dark bedroom.

You took a deep breath watching the blade leave Jason’s hand, then you looked back to him, seeing his soaked hair stick to his face. His armor caked with dirt and blood blending into the fabric.

As much as you wanted to call Alfred, Jason was in no condition to see another person right now.

As you analyzed him, you saw, physically, how much the night had roughed him up. Jason’s hands were limp at his side, his head hung to your feet as you stepped closer to him, testing how close he was willing to let you get.

“Jay? You’re still in your armor, we need to get you out of your soaked clothes.” You gently spoke.

He said nothing to you, focusing on pacing his breaths in a way that didn’t cause him more anxiety. He kept his eyes closed.

“Do you need my help? I can help, but if you want to do it yourself—“

He grabbed one of your fingers, his frozen hand stinging your warm one that absorbed the heat from your blankets not too long ago. His large hand held onto your singular finger, feeling your smooth skin, trying to sink into the soothing feeling of physical touch.

You patiently waited, letting him go at his own pace to grasp that he was safe enough to ask for this much from you.

“I’m glad you made it home.” You spoke. Feeling Jason’s skin trace your knuckles and veins in your hand like he was memorizing and analyzing the living being he cared so much for.

As he continued his small rubs, he eased his touch to a feather light hover over your arm. Feeling up to press his thumb underneath the fabric of your shirt sleeve, mentally talking to himself about the feel of the fabric and its color.

You let him ground himself, taking note of how still you kept your body. All control was in Jason’s hands like a puppeteer over your entire self. He wanted to scream out to himself that he was selfishly touching you, but he was walking a very thin line of losing his mind any second and the feel of you was keeping him focused on something other than his racing head.

He was so tired that he grasp his hand onto your shoulder to gently pull you toward him, resting his head into your hair, smelling how familiar you were.

He thought you smelt so much better than the gunpowder and burning flesh from his body.

He rested his hand behind your back, slowly feeling up to cusp behind your neck, letting his fingers settle onto your pulse. Counting the thumps and feeling the repeated rhythm he memorized numerous times to fall asleep to.

Jason brought you in closer, matching his breaths to yours because if he felt like passing out, he reasoned to himself that it should be completely because he wanted to be one with you.

You settled your forehead onto his neck, taking a deep breath into his skin.

Jason flinched, feeling his skin tingle to your warm breath exhaling to his hair. He hummed before he was about to pull away from you, remembering his stench.

“I’m sorry, I…stink.” Jason apologized, fighting against himself to release you, but also grip you harder.

You pulled him back to you by his neck and arm, leaning his damp hair onto your head.

“You don’t need to apologize. Besides, I love your smell. I think I stink ‘cause I haven’t showered ever since I got back from work.” You lazily smiled up at Jason, appreciating that he was talking to you.

“You don’t smell.” He emphasized, whispering his sincerity into the small space between your bodies.

“I was sweating a lot today, so we can be stinky together if that’s what you’re worried about.” You comforted him, reaching up to cusp his cheeks. Soothing the redness on his face from his harsh rubs. “We can wash up together if you want to. It’s also okay if you want to do it by yourself. I’m always open to what you tell me, no matter what I’ll be right here until you let me know.”

Jason felt the ease in his shoulders, the voice in his head calming. It wasn’t completely silent, but it was a little quieter when you were speaking so gently to him.

“Can we wash up together?” He asked into your palm, rubbing his nose into your warm hand.

“Of course we can. I can get the water ready while you get out of your gear.”

“Hm.” Jason agreed into your touch.

“I won’t make the water too hot. I also got a new shampoo yesterday and I haven’t used it yet, so we can smell like eucalyptus together.” You could feel Jason’s frozen nose on your hands. “Hon, you’re freezing.”

Your worries were unanswered, leaving you to only furrow your brow at the man in front of you. Jason could only look up from your hands, clearly having nothing to say, but patiently waiting for you to give in to his tender gaze.

He knew you would give in, you always did and he wanted to use it to his advantage to not speak about his night.

He removed his gloves and you heard the slightly damp fabric being pulled from his fingers. With free hands, Jason reached out to rub off the furrowed look on your face, in attempt to cover his tired appearance.

“You’re lucky I’m going to be nice about this. I was about one call away to summoning Alfred or I would’ve drove your motorcycle all the way there if I had to.”

Jason chuckled as he kept kneading the line between your eyebrows. Listening to your stubborn worries that felt like music to his ears as much as he didn’t want to admit it.

“Threatening me now?” Jason asked. Amused, but willing to listen to your voice continuously. The way his voice teased you made your heart tingle, enough to distract you for a moment to look at the way his hair fell onto his face. His features were carved by wavy hair, elegantly placed hair strands that made you waver between frustrated and enamored, but unable to stop your heartfelt lecture.

“Maybe you can distract me, but Alfred is too experienced to even consider hesitating with you.” You tried to go move your eyebrows in defiance against Jason’s thumb, not backing down just yet. “I was about to haul you on my shoulders and dump you onto the back of your motorcycle. I didn’t go through all those lessons with you to not use it against you.“

“I knew it, you were always too excited to take it out for a drive. Can’t believe my own student was actually plotting against me all along.” Jason held onto your face, shaking his head as he traced your jaw with his fingers.

“It’s called “enthusiasm,” Jason.” You started to feel for the zippers of his jacket, moving your fingers against the leather as you slowly took it off his shoulders, carefully watching his body language to ensure you weren’t making him uncomfortable.

“Enthusiasm.” Jason repeated. In the same tone you always swooned at, hearing the familiar low roughness in his voice that was only reserved for you. A dangerous combo as he touched your face so affectionately, you could feel your face heat in the dim closet light. “I know all about enthusiasm.”

He leaned in to slightly peck your bottom lip, feeling his own lips barely touch yours. He felt how dry his lips were, but yours were soft enough to drown out his other worries and insecurities. Enough to feel the intimacy, but not enough to solidify something more.

You smiled, clearly won over by Jason’s charm. In one swoop you pulled the jacket off Jason, leaving him in his usual patrol skintight top with his emblem reflecting what little light was in the room.

You couldn’t imagine the fear that red bat symbol brought to the bad people lingering at night, realizing the bad shit they brought on themselves because that emblem was the last thing they would remember.

But you always liked what was beneath it, what it tried to protect. The part of Jason that he relentlessly tried to hide and you had the patience to slowly unveil every bit of it.

“Save that enthusiasm because we might not be able to wash up if you kiss me one more time.” You rubbed your hands into the back of his neck, feeling the tense muscles and wanting to help him relax for a bit with some warm water and rubbing some shampoo into his hair to hopefully allow him to sleep a little tonight. “Clean your gear in the morning, I wanna warm up with a shower and you can help me dry my hair.”

“Hm.” Jason agreed as he kept rubbing your lips with his thumb. You felt accomplished as you felt his hands slowly warming from your physical touch.

“I’ll get us some fresh towels. Grab the new shampoo after you remove your gear.” You released yourself from Jason and made your way to the bathroom. “It should be in the bag by the bed. I forgot to take it out.”

With some soreness, Jason removed his utility belt and picked up the thrown knife to safely secure it back in its place. He felt the weight in his eyelids as he made his way to the bathroom, hearing the water turn on.

When he pushed the door open silently, he watched the way you moved. Adjusting the heat of the water, placing freshly dried towels on the counter, and the way you were so perfectly domestic.

Jason didn’t want to disturb you, soothing himself to the sight of you after he exhausted himself from the repeated torture his mind put himself through.

When you looked back, the look you gave him almost made him melt to the tile floor. That it was unreal he was allowed this.

You pulled him into the bathroom, much like the other ways you introduced him to various simplicities he started to enjoy in his life.

He didn’t want to admit it to you, in case you would be offended, but he cherished how mundane you were. That he could feel as close to ordinary next to you. That the scars that littered him weren’t going to drive you away.

Piece by piece, clothing were removed from the two of you. It was comfortable to bare yourself, to share this intimate experience of bathing together. Washing and holding each other under warm water. Massaging and lathering soap.

The steam was filling the bathroom, slight humidity relaxing your skin and your shared scent radiating off each other.

The night was turning into dawn, but you dried each others hair. You gently laid into the bed to slowly rub at Jason’s head, easing him and yourself into another slumber.

[midnightcatharsis]

Astarion haters are usually pathetic liars and the worst part of bg3 fandom. Here is a prime example of an absolutely pathetic individual (screen and context below, btw the first screens don't look that bad but the last one is important here and sheds a different light on them) : They go under every Astarion-related video and hate on him and his fans. They also almost always lie. They're the ones who said "AsTaRiOn DiSaProVes oF sAvInG thE GnOmEs at MoOnRiSe" and "AsTariON oNlY apPRoves oF sAviNg the HyEna and the OwlBeaR because he wants to eat them" I've debunked it with information from the game and wiki, but they continue to say that. You can find my post here. The same individual some time ago went under another Astarion video and made a comment hating on the entire Astarion fandom in a comment that at first glance can look innocent to neutral fans. They were enraged that some Astarion fans disliked people who purposefully downloaded a mod that allows you to put a collar on an escaped slave and makes him crawl. Of course, they failed to give any actual proof or link and expected everyone to blindly believe them which would be very unreasonable since I've already proven they often lie (the entire gnomes at moonrise situation I've mentioned) but they target neutral people in hope of deceiving them. Anyway here's the comment:

While there's no evidence and the only proof is "trust me bro", the comment itself doesn't look that bad, right? After being told that playing slave-owner simulator and purposefully putting a collar on an escaped slave to "make him crawl" is bad and people pointing that out were not wrong they went on to explain that the mystery "streamer didn't know and has only been playing for 6 hours"

Hmnn… They once again failed to provide ANY evidence. Which I wonder why? They seem to know the story and the streamer quite well, so why not even tell who the streamer was so people can check for themselves what he did, with what intentions and what was the real answer of Astarion fans? Perhaps the "evil Astarion fans" were just people telling him that playing the slave-owner simulator was disgusting. The story and justification itself sound extremely implausible. Why would the mystery streamer who had never played bg3 before, never had heard about it, and had not known the story before specifically look for and download a mod just to make one specific character (an escape, traumatized slave) into his own slave… Something doesn't seem right in their story. They explicitly stated that "the streamer " had only played 6 hours and hadn't been caring or paying attention to the story at all. Yet only after merely 6 hours, he searched for that particular mod to use it specifically on Astarion? I've played the game, and I've watched numerous playthroughs on twitch and youtube. Character creator alone takes almost 1 hour on your first time and the nautiloid tutorial takes another one. It leaves barely 4 hours of the game… Most people, even experienced gamers with gaming channels, are still learning basic mechanisms and are experimenting with them after 4 hours. They're exploring the vastness of the bg3 world and trying to grasp the story. You don't get a lot of companion interactions during the first few hours, and even Astarion's bite scene doesn't usually happen that early. After 4 hours of gameplay most gamers I've watched (and I, myself) were still getting around long/short rest mechanics and trying to learn how combat works… Most people try to understand how the main game works and what it has to offer before getting mods. And you're telling me this streamer who didn't care and didn't pay attention went out of his way to download such a specific mod for Astarion?? It sounds like a bad lie to me. Nobody can check it or verify it without a source, but the comment may sound innocuous on its own. Almost immediately in the same thread, another account started backing them up

Again, it looks harmless, right? Neutral fans and even some Astarion fans may think it's a valid opinion as everybody can dislike different characters.

Imagine my surprise or rather lack of it when I found THE SAME two usernames under another Astarion video talking about how they enjoy putting a collar on Astarion, making him crawl, torturing him and helping Cazador:

And they claim Astarion fans are the toxic ones XDD

There are several messed up things here:

Notice how they talk about enjoying torturing him and playing slave-owner simulator months after making comments defending the "streamer" on the basis that "the streamer didn't know about enslavement". Well, they surely know about Astarion's past and story because they both acknowledge it in their previous comments yet they both are proud of torturing a slave.

They think they're good for doing that

The sheer f* hypocrisy and audacity to say that they're bullied by "toxic fans" when people point out that messed up behavior

The dates. The "newer" comments were made under a video from several months ago, and the original comment had only a few likes and was one of the last ones under the video. You have to scroll a lot to see it. The fact that there is only one hour pause between them is strange. Additionally, the older comments made by those "two" accounts were also made back-to-back. Both are under the same comment/video, in both cases the original comment is not that easy to find because it's either hidden in replies or you really have to scroll the comments to see it, both made in the same very short period under a much older video/thread, both backing each other up and making THE SAME bs points. Interesting… very interesting indeed. XD

I have a strong suspicion that the "mystery streamer" was the second account (if the streamer wasn't made up) and I am practically certain those two accounts are the same individual. Which makes them one of the most pathetic characters I've ever met. They do similar things under other Astarion videos and comments too - purposefully lying making bs takes, and doubling down on it.

I'm too lazy to search or cite all of the bs I've seen them spew and I'm sure there's much more of it under different Astarion content but here are some examples that I find the most ridiculous:

Astarion doesn't approve of saving gnomes at Moonrise (proven to be a lie)

Astarion only approves of saving the hyena and the owlbear because he wants to eat them. (XD)

Astarion admits that he's evil in his good hero epilogue because he answers that he "embraced the darkness" when asked whether he misses walking in the sun

Astarion is evil because he disapproves if you forbid him from drinking animal blood (Don't tell them that other characters eat meat too, that meat is made of dead animals or Karlach knows how a dwarf tastes)

Playing the slave owner simulator is ok. (When said mod was compared to mods of Male Aylin or the mod whitewashing Wyll they said, playing with those mods is ok too)

Having nightmares is not a symptom of PTSD, and having nightmares of your abuser enslaving you again is also definitely not that. When asked to do some basic research they said they don't care what Wikipedia or the Internet says

The wiki and mods are lying and shouldn't be believed, only they're telling the truth and should be blindly believed

They also tried to decanonize the official in-game narrator lines and said origin runs are and events in them are not canon and don't offer companions' perspective. (Like they're arguing that Astarion nightmare doesn't happen despite it being in the game because their character can't see it XDD)

And many many others I don't even have energy to describe. How pathetic do you have to be to create numerous alternative accounts to go under all Astarion videos or threads and lie about fictional characters? They most surely have other fake accounts too. Do you know what's even funnier? They claim "they're not an Astarion hater" to convince neutral fans to believe them blindly. Yes, sure "they are not a hater". They just think Astarion is a disgusting evil monster who deserves to die and they brag about enjoying using slave collars on him and making him crawl. XDDD

I think it would be difficult to find a more hateful, dishonest, contemptible, and foul individual.

P.S. If you ever see a comment where somebody claims they're not an Astarion hater but then lies or tries to spread misinformation about him don't let them deceive you. It's their tactics. Please don't believe them or check every piece of information for yourself. Later, they go and brag about killing him, making him a slave as this individual here.

[anim-ttrpgs]

@gingerbreadbeholder

Thank you!

Yes, we use a virtual tabletop grid with little tokens for that kind of dungeon exploration and combat. We rotate GMs in the White Company AD&D2e campaign referenced in that post, and whatever virtual tabletop we’re using just sorta depends on the preference or convenience for that particular GM.

This time we were using Roll20 with a high-res remake of the dungeon from the actual adventure module. Here’s a few screenshots.

This screenshot is of a bit of a zoomed out view so you can see how many characters we’re working with. There’s 28 White Company&Allies(9 or which, the cynocephali, are enemy mercenaries that Herr Rike bribed to switch sides) and 16 enemy guys. That blue square is where the party's magician, Lady Serena Graves(drawn in white with a green border just above the green border token that uses Pentament art. ) cast her one spell of like the whole adventure and made the ceiling collapse on the guy with the purple robe, instantly ending what would have been a super deadly fight. The guy in the purple robes popped out from behind the corner during the negotiations and cast a spell of paralysis (and probably some other worse effects along with it) on Herr Rike before anyone could react. Against all odds, she passed a save that had a 90% chance to fail, the spell failed to take hold. We rationalized that this might be because she's already like 15% scar tissue and paralyzed muscles, so she's used to standing on bad legs, and so it just barely impeded her, enough to look like there was no effect at all. Then Serena Graves immediately brought the ceiling down on him, which was the plan all along. They had heard from the captured enemy fighters that this guy was such a deadly fighter and powerful magician that they were all terrified of him, so the party didn't take any chances. Rike getting hit by a spell wasn't part of the plan, but other than that, Serena Graves collapsed the ceiling on him as soon as she saw him, just as planned.

It's a good thing too, the DM told us some of his stats later and the captives were not fucking kidding. If this had come to an actual fight, he would have been one-shotting at least one party member per round, without even accounting for over a dozen other enemies.

The thing about magical characters in AD&D is that they will spend the whole adventure doing absolutely nothing until it comes time for them to snap their fingers and make one insurmountable problem instantly go away. The others surrendered after this, and under guard from the White Company&Allies, dug through the rubble to rescue the other half that had been trapped inside.

The token that uses Pentament art is one of the White Company Fighters, Chrysanthemum. Abigail is the one represented by the art from @ ironlily on twitter. Miles is the anime guy. Thistle the Witch is next to Chrysanthemum. Ceridwen is the other green token with a dog.

Here’s a more zoomed in picture where you can see the tokens more clearly. You can see Herr Rike(left, drawn in white with a green token border) and one of the sub-contracted mercenaries (Japanese warrior with a blue border token.) holding two previously-captured enemy soldiers (outlined in red right above them) at knife-point while negotiating with the rest of the enemy. Some of this is our own art, some of it is just whatever we can find, but a lot of it is from either HeroForge or Mordhau. Mordhau is great for quickly creating a bunch of unique historically accurate goons for this campaign, but you have to play a lot of that game to unlock a wide variety of armors. Luckily, I have over 500 hours in it.

And here’s a screenshot of the rooms where a lot of the above story took place. You can see the stairs where those two guys got slime attacked, the door where I drew a lock to indicate it was locked after Herr Rike couldn’t pick the lock, the room with Lubash in it, the door where Herr Rike propped up the jug of oil(drawn in yellow), the hallway with cells where the revenants came out, and the secret passage they eventually found.

We don’t always perfectly adhere to the grid itself, like in instances where it makes sense that the group should be able to stack up closer than the usual 5-foot squares would allow, but even then it is still useful for keeping track of relative positioning, so there is often some theater-of-the-mind going on, but for tactical combat games like every edition of D&D, I really can’t recommend a grid enough.

Also, use adventure modules. If you want a D&D dungeon crawl, play AD&D2e or earlier (I have also heard good things about Advanced Fantasy Dungeons, which is supposed to be a "modernization" of AD&D.) and use the dozens and dozens or even hundreds of adventure modules compatible with them that already come with great dungeons right out the box! The story above is from using an actual 1979 D&D adventure module, and the great thing about using some of the older and more famous ones is that man of them will have resources you can find online, such as fancy remakes of their maps and stuff. "Use adventure modules" and "create situations, not plots" are the two most important pieces of advice I can give to any GM.

"D&D can do anything" and "I don't like dungeon crawls, I enjoy real role-playing" are two statements that often go hand-in-hand and the ironic thing is that the latter statement betrays a very shallow understanding of role-playing while being really snobby. What's even more hilarious is that it's like baby's first RPG elitism, like yeah most people go through a "I like real role-playing" phase but to go through it while putting on airs about the dungeon game while at the same time dismissing dungeon games is real funny.

Anyway, wherever people pick up the idea that dungeon-crawling, the playstyle most supported by D&D, is somehow pedestrian, it very quickly leads to bargaining, like surely if dungeon-crawling is actually bad and for babies then D&D must be capable of so much more, right? Well, truth is, not really, D&D kind of sucks for things besides that.

Where a lot of people go wrong at this point is contending that therefore D&D must be flawed as a role-playing game: like, if it actually kind of sucks for most playstyles besides dungeon-crawling and we've already decided that dungeon-crawling isn't real role-playing, then surely D&D must be bad as a role-playing game?

The issue of course is that most people don't ever interrogate their starting assumption of dungeon-crawls being bad. And truth be told most people who claim to hate dungeon-crawls have never actually played a dungeon-crawl. At most they've played a dungeon-crawl themed linear succession of combat encounters. (I remember this: once when I posted about dungeon-crawls being good, actually, someone responded with a "well I can see the appeal but personally I couldn't enjoy a game that's just back-to-back combat" which is a whole misunderstanding of dungeon-crawls as a genre.)

Anyway so the great thing is that once you re-examine your assumptions about what counts as "real role-playing" and conclude that a dungeon-crawl is as much real role-playing as whatever the fuck Critical Role is doing then you find whole new vectors of being a snooty blowhard and it rules. You can make fun of D&D players in so many new ways,

[zuzusexytiems]

ReiJean barely gets any official art you don't need to ruin their parade by complaining about no JP??? Besides it's just them standing beside each other its not a big deal!

also no do not send shippy stuff to japanese studios, big no no in Japanese fandom. They will never post any romantic fanon ship stuff unless it is canon to the show which in this case only EreMika and AruAni is the confirmed couple.

lmao, I'm allowed to be sad about my ship not getting official art. did you hear me say "I wish reijean never got the crumb" or that aruani and eremika and levihan never got the crumb? no. I said I was sad that my ship never got the crumb.

you're saying "it's not a big deal", and yet here you are complaining in my inbox on anon about it. if it truly wasn't a big deal, you wouldn't have cared what I (or anyone) thought, nor would you have gone through the trouble to message me about this.

you also don't have a say in what people should and shouldn't care about! you can't tell people "you shouldn't do this, or you shouldn't think or feel this way" because the fact is, my feelings are real, and you, a stranger, don't have the right to invalidate them. I don't know you, and I doubt that we're friends, because no friend of mine would come at me like this. so really, tell me why in the world should I listen to you or do as you say, especially since 1.) you're a stranger, and 2.) you've said it to me so disrespectfully?

if you truly are so bothered by what I feel, then unfollow me, mute me, or block me. no one is forcing you to be here, and me being sad about jeanpiku not getting crumbs has no effect on your life whatsoever. reijean and every other ship that got the crumb will continue to exist and celebrate regardless if I'm sad about jeanpiku or not. again, you said "it's no big deal" and that it doesn't matter. so if it's no big deal, then why are you here?

lastly:

"do not send shippy stuff to japanese studios" anon, I'm a little concerned that you care too much about what strangers do on the internet. again, like I said, nothing I do will have an effect on you or the things you enjoy.

ask yourself: in the slim chance that I ever do end up contacting mappa, will that action have an effect on you, and how you enjoy your own interests? no, it won't. so again, why do you care?

I would suggest you do something more productive with your time than lurk on my profile if you dislike my opinions so much. please save us both the trouble and just block me. I will genuinely be thankful for it.

PS if you didn't know: while they aren't my main ship, I'm also a reijean shipper, have reijean friends, and have made posts about liking reijean on twitter. perhaps I did sound a bit bitter on my post about the lack of jeanpiku, and I apologize if anyone felt hurt by that, but in no way did I ever come after the reijean community or any other community for the matter.

PPS, you talk about "ruining reijean's parade" but notice how I never tagged their ship name nor bothered anyone about it (unlike you). I just expressed being sad about MY ship on my OWN account and my OWN space, which I'm entitled to do.

again, please spend your energy on more fruitful matters.

[p2iimon]

i got this weird comment on my da page and the account seemingly only existed to. comment on my da page. i keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and it hasnt

[mattodore]

i downloaded the twitter font for this

[catocappuccino]

A pointless tumblr post titled

"Assigning furby colours (specifically 1st gen) to Murder Drones characters without giving any explaination for my choices" part 1

Uzi - juicy grape

N - labrador

V - banana peel

J - bumblebee

Cyn - angel

🔥🔥🔥If you enjoyed this post leave a like and follow for more PEAK content like this🔥🔥🔥

/j

[chenyuvale]

baizhluc masterpost :D

this is Everything baizhu x diluc ive created :>

( last one was a collab i did with @leowopard, who did the lineart/sketch and all i did was color :> )

( was asked to tag @thew1tness so here's ur tag :D )

[corellianhounds]

Found out where that mystery reblog must have come from

I LEFT. MY BLOG. LOGGED IN. AT THE PUBLIC LIBRARY

[creepers-have-anxiety]

does anyone remember mineblr

[cottoncandysecretlair]

It's wild how on one side of my dash I see people talking about the real issues of transmasc erasure, "you're taking our lesbians away" terf rhetoric, and the ways that trans men are expected to accept ostracisation within leftist spaces without ever advocating for themselves...

Meanwhile on the other side, I see lots of "The MRA's are back, anyone that speaks about transmasc issues are transmisogynists, if you didn't immediately decide transandrophobia is an invalid concept then you're a bigot" type hysteria and it all just pisses me off.

Like trans men will spend their entire life til now perceived as women, expected to be quiet, expected to obey and be a resource to others without taking up too much space or having needs themselves. And upon realizing they're trans, finding their community, and thinking maybe this is a place they can find some modicum of comfort, the community says "no."

We don't want your voice or your struggles, because it doesn't fall in line with the rhetoric. It's not a part of the theory.

SJ theory generalizes, that's the nature of it. It's used to describe society as a whole, and how systemic oppressions operate. Broad academic theory isn't meant to for you to apply it precisely the same way to the individual.

That's what being intersectional is supposed to be about! You're not supposed to say "well systemically men are oppressors, so this man I just met is actively looking to oppress me" when you meet a homeless black man in a wheel chair.

I'm just so tired of the dynamic where in leftist spaces we can't share our stories and pain because they have to align with our ideas of who's the oppressor or not.

To this day, I feel terrified to open up about the fact that an older woman sexually assaulted me as a teen, because I'm so afraid someone will say I'm just targeting lesbians, or that my story promotes predatory stereotypes and shouldn't be shared. I can't talk about shit like that because I know that outside my closest friends, others in leftists spaces don't want to hear about that.

This is all over the place but I'm just so frustrated. Seeing people that have been boiling over, keeping their mouth shut, playing nice even when it's unfair to them, daring to open their mouths to speak all the while trying to be careful, only to still get attacked and made into bigots.

It's like there's no amount of bowing and saying your troubles are meaningless and insisting other people have it worse that will let you be "allowed" to talk about what hurts you.

We're supposed to be past one-upmanship and oppression olympics, it's not about who's had it worse it's about what we can fucking do about it TOGETHER.

And that means being able to drop your academic theory and shit to engage with the people in your community as fucking human beings. That means being able to seriously consider the validity of criticism instead of knee-jerk rejecting it.

Also please stop accusing literally anyone talking about intra-community bullying of talking over people being killed or shit like that, you know damn well that people are capable of caring about multiple issues

[namisweatheria]

If I remember correctly (and I’m not reading another fucking wiki page) Viola knew everything that was happening in Dressrosa but was too powerless and afraid to do anything but go along with it and repress her guilt and anger. I think it would be interesting if she knew what happened to Becca 5 and Didn’t Do Anything and the fallout of that when Becca gets her memories back.

Oohhh maybe Law and Viola would argue over why the other didn’t do anything and it’s just mutual frustrated expressions of guilt and Law still has Cora to avenge so he leaves freeing Becca to Viola and in typical wan peace fashion she cries with the meaning of being trusted with that and heads out with new determination despite thinking she’ll probably die doing it.

MAYBE ACTUALLY it would be the other way around than what I suggested before and Becca and Robin would connect as two people who lost everything as children and became assassins and Viola and Nami as two people forced to work for someone they despise who has ultimate power over them.

I just know that Nami would be So Mad at Viola for giving up but would just as easily forgive and encourage her as soon as she finally decides to fight back. And I know Robin would be so happy for Becca when they find out her family isn’t actually gone they were just hidden in plain sight.

There’d still be a lot of other shit to fix and fold together but this is fun to think about… There were a shitton of problems with the gladiator pit and the tontattas that could be good to revisit and reimagine…. Something something Viola going down in the pit as a form of self punishment and attempting to get stronger something something Usopp’s relationship with the tontattas being less undignified for both of them while retaining Usopp’s victory…

Hmmm something about the trading of techniques and ideals with a group of very tiny people who are nonetheless incredibly fearless against much larger foes and a man who despite having gotten much physically stronger over the years is still very fearful and relies on a lot of clever tricks to fight….. Teaching them it’s not dishonorable to use tricks to win when you’re fighting for your life and in turn being inspired to be braver…. Trading weapons….. A continuation of the “I’ll do what you can’t do and you’ll do what I can’t do” from Water 6/Ennies Lobby….. Showcasing Usopp’s growth and allowing him to pass it on…..

OH AND OF COURSE. Nami and Koala would HAVE to interact!!!!! There would absolutely have to be made room for a dedicated scene or tiny side plot about the two of them. Their dynamic would be so fascinating with all their parallels and divergences. I’m not satisfied with her just showing up in the background to support Sabo and have it be revealed that she’s apart of the Rev Army now like THAT WAS COOL AND ALL but she’s SUUUCH a good character and having her and Nami so near each other and not interacting is such a giant waste of potential to me.

Ugh god but to redo Dressrosa you’d also have to redo Punk Hazard, which is also a meh arc for me. Not as interesting though. Plus that’s when Momo and Kin’emon are introduced and I simply cannot stand either of them and the shitty plot they exist for. I mean Wano is also begging to be redone…. Way too many characters way too long AND WAY TOO MUCH ROMANTICIZATION OF HISTORICAL FEUDALISM AND ITS MISOGYNY. And frankly Usopp SHOULD have gone to Whole Cake WHAT ABOUT THE THEMES!!!!!!!!!! What about the Sanji and Usopp Water Seven connection!!!!!!

Plus the way that everyone else going on ahead didn’t even affect anything. Ugh. Like I love that it made room for a lot of cool Nami moments and Carrot as a character but. I don’t know maybe Wano could stand to be shorter and Whole Cake could have been longer.

POST TIME SKIP HAS SO MANY PROBLEMS. There’s just this huge shift in art style and tone WHICH MATCHES. YOU KNOW. THE EVENTS THAT BROUGHT THEM THERE. But. Idk I think there COULD be better balance between old style Strawhat Shenanigans and the major Plot of the New World. Like I understand they’ve gotten themselves wrapped up into much higher stakes and they all have personal reasons to take things more seriously. And there’s not as much room. BUT WE COULD STILL MAKE A LITTLE BIT MORE. I THINK.

Once again this is why I’m loving the final saga so far we are very much back to Strawhat Time. There’s a lot to be hopeful for….

[fictionadventurer]

Was this written by future President of the United States Chester Arthur or Anne of Green Gables?

[dreemurr-skelememer]

witnessing just generally crazy shit with no accountability on my dashboard is 100 times funnier than seeing it on my twitter timeline, for some reason