#apologies everyone. brain feels better when not tumblring

[linabirb]

come on tumblr post my video you can do it

[malenjoyer]

Hi!

I know right now may not be the best time to say this, but I'm kind of still processing how fast this all happened. As someone who likes to look over artists' past work esp my fav works daily and just suddenly noticed that they're almost all gone: twitter, instagram, and tumblr. It frustrates me that not only has this situation affected you, but how it really takes one selfish and inconsiderate person to ruin everything for others. I truly hope that you can heal from this and maybe we might see those pictures again, but this is just soo much to process. Just love and support for you <33333 🥹🫶😭🫶🫶🫶🫶

Hi. I’ve privated a lot of my work on tumblr and Instagram, so they’re not gone forever. I still have a lot of positive memories with them so I didn’t want to delete them. I wanted to keep all the nice comments and support I’ve gotten over these past few years.. I might unarchive them sometime in the future when I’m more okay with it being looked at. Twitter, I had no choice but to delete it, especially ones with dick, jason, and Peter Parker. My brain freaked out a little bit from seeing evidence of the person saving my art and making fake clip files with them. Logically, I am aware deleting my old art in response is stupid.

But it wasn’t limited to just comic art, it was other interests I had too which was really uncomfortable that someone would go to the extent of pretending they like other stuff I liked. They would also paraphrase tweets I’ve made about my personal life onto their own twitter. That just isn’t okay.

Every interest I’ve ever fallen in love with meant a lot to me. This is probably not publicly known information since I’m relatively private, as a depressed autistic person, a lot of who I am is what I end up liking. My friends and relatives describe me as dressing up like a cartoon character, because everything I like is so visibly obvious. I become utterly consumed in my favorite things. Suddenly, it feels like all of my control was taken away from me. My interests collected over the years were no longer just mine, it was someone else’s because they decided to lie and it was easier to continue lying. I don’t know how much was saved. There was a screenshot of a message with over 8+ of my art works sent excluding the fake files.

I don’t have control over it. The impersonation of my identity and my life experiences.

But I do have control over who gets to see what I put out in the future. I could probably write this better but I’ve rewritten a lot of things within these two days. Rewritten posts over and over so it sounds less aggressive, less hurt, less like I am trying to call for a witch hunt and more just taking extra precautions. I don’t think I have the energy to rewrite this to seem less vulnerable/pathetic.

I want to apologize to everyone who hoped I’d keep my past art public. I know how it feels. I’ve been fans of artists who just blew up their account one day and never came back. I only privated them on tumblr and Instagram. That’s all I can do. Honestly, I’m hoping a part of my brain just forgets some of this happened since depression does come with memory loss.. This post is now too long.. but I hope it gives some insight for what’s happening on my side of the brain. I appreciate all the support so far.

If you see me acting a little weird on twitter, I’m just trying to regain a sense of control over my identity.

[fuck-your-proana-blog]

Fellow disabled people/in recovery people/suicidal people, please avoid interaction with @skylarthethompson .

I tried to kill myself last year because of my ED and chronic pain. I was in a coma for 2 days, in the hospital for 2 weeks, and am still suffering the after affects of the damage the 3 months worth of pills I swallowed did to my brain and body, and I'm still struggling with suicidal thoughts due to my many physical and mental illnesses. I just hope me exposing this cruel human will keep them from hurting anyone else who is also struggling.

Telling someone they have nothing to live for is so fucking beyond ok and I just want to warn anyone else who is suffering from chronic pain/illnesses/disabilities and mental illnesses/suicidal ideation that this person is a cruel and insensitive troll and to not let them rent space in your mind.

I reported them; anyone else who sees this please report this despicable behavior so they don't do any further damage to the mentally ill/chronically ill community here on Tumblr.

The first comment is clearly suicide baiting, and I guess they realized that and tried to seem a little less depraved; but you can't undo saying shit like this:

Also, take a look at the victim mentality at work here: "you're a smart smart nice person and I'm a dumb dumb mean person." 🙄.

And then there's the fake "do-gooder" story. So telling a very disabled person that their life isn't worth living is helping, and "a good coping mechanism"?? Anyone with half a braincell can tell you're just trying to seem less like an asshole when you've been exposed as one. Nice try to not seem like an absolute garbage person; but it didn't work.

And this selfishness: "I don't feel safe now! I don't want my virtual life ruined! I don't want gross people telling me horrible insults when my mental health can't take it!" Funny, because I didn't want your gross opinion on why I should just kill myself because my life is too miserable to be worth living with all my mental and physical illnesses. Nice ableism you got there. Also I didn't ask anyone to send you "horrible insults." I just asked my followers to avoid and report you for suicide baiting; which is a very severe problem on the internet that no one deserves; least of all mentally and physically disabled people like me and many of my followers.

"Please don't ruin my life over this!" If you say things online that you don't want everyone to see, that you can come to acknowledge are the actions of an asshole, that's your problem. Don't tell people they should just give up and kill themselves if you don't want people to see how heartless you are. If your life is "ruined" by something you said you have no one to blame but yourself.🤷

And of course the classic "I reported your post; I won't let you ruin my Tumblr life." ...are you even serious? You wrote those words; all I did was take screenshots and show them to my followers so they don't become victims of your harassment themselves- not everyone has the great support system I do, so they deserve a warning about people like you. Plus I said nothing wrong, I just told you that telling people to kill themselves is fucked up and made a post exposing your cruelty so you couldn't harm others who struggle like I do. If your "Tumblr life" gets "ruined" from this, your have no one to blame but yourself because all I did was post the words you put on my posts. I don't give a shit that you're "only 18;" you're still an adult and should know better than to tell strangers on the internet that their lives are so horrible they should just kill themselves.. also if you were actually "sorry" you wouldn't have said more cruel things after your oh-so-sincere apology.

There were even more responses they made saying they were going to kill themselves and it was my fault because I posted things they publicly said on a public platform, telling me they were going to Livestream their suicide and publicly blame me for their death, etc. (I reported those comments to Tumblr for a suicide threat but didn't get screenshots before they were deleted.) You can look at the amount of notes on said posts; this one has 27 replies with only 2 from me so they were harassing me all day with 25 comments while I went to some of my many appointments, so obviously I didn't get screenshots of them all, but the ones I did screenshot are more than enough proof that this person who told me I should just die and was trying to blame me for their mental state; saying I was guilty of something THEY actually did to ME, and that if they killed themselves it would be my fault... For simply making a post telling vulnerable people to be aware of them and their disgusting behavior because no one deserves to be told their life isn't worth living; especially when they've been fighting with those thoughts in their own mind for years and don't need some asshole online trying to push them over the edge towards suicide.

When I was a fucking child I knew that telling people to kill themselves is wrong. Not my problem that you're so cruel you can't see it that way and harassed me all day as I went to my disability appointments finding out if I need more surgery while my notifications were going off at a ridiculous rate as you were trying to convince me I'm the bad guy for warning vulnerable people about you; a person that told someone they don't even know who is a suicidal, ED recovering, physically and psychologically disabled person, that their life isn't worth living and they should just kill themselves.

This person is a threat to the mentally and physically disabled and they need their blog to be terminated so they can't trigger people on the edge like me and so many of my followers and others in the disabled/ED communities on Tumblr.

[ghuleh-recs]

Cardinal Copia had his own Fic Rec Friday and now it’s Popia’s turn. I've compiled a healthy mix of x reader and x ghoul below. A little something for everyone! I may have gotten a little carried away— there's a lot to see here so make good use of your ao3 bookmarks!

Take my hand. Let’s read about the HBIC together. ♡

recs under the cut.

Papa x Reader

Don't Go - @ramblingoak - papa iv x gn!reader

While trying to convince Papa to cancel the tour you end up confessing how you feel about him.

Rough Day - @writingjourney - papa iv x f!reader

papa takes care of you after a rough day.

Your Star Wrapped in My Cloak - @sherwood-forests - papa iv x f!reader

You find Copia in the library, in hopes of apologizing.

VIII Strength - @anamelessfool - gn!reader

VIII STRENGTH Strength (Physical and Will), courage, persuasion, influence, compassion Copia is a pent up sort of man, he always has been. He enjoys being Papa but on his worst days the title has a near physical weight pressed across his shoulders. He comes home to you, and you can tell when it's been one of those days. Luckily, he has you to guide him.

Forbidden Fruit - @ink-and-dagger - papa iv x f!reader

It's a pleasant surprise to stumble upon the newly ordained Papa Emeritus IV browsing through the library stacks. Even more pleasant that he happens to be halfway up a rolling ladder, and wearing one of his sinfully tight suits. What better opportunity to give Copia's cakes the attention they deserve. Or No snakes needed to convince you to take a bite out of this apple.

Forever Yours - @sweatandwoe - papa iv x gn!reader

Ever since you had entered into a relationship with him, you had learned three strict rules about Copia. One, he did not like to be tickled in any situation. Two, he always had to have a drink after sex. Three, the make-up stayed on. The first two were easy to follow but the third though, was getting harder to try not to bend.

Worship - @copiasjuicebox - papa iv x transmasc!reader

Tumblr Request: trans!copia worshipping your body after your t shots have had time to work. he understands how to worship your body properly bc he’s been through the transition, he gets it.

on leather wings - @ghostchems - papa iv x f!reader

copia surprises you with a spooky weekend getaway, culminating in some winged bedroom time

Papa IV x Ghouls

tumblr ficlet - @st-danger - papa iv x dewdrop

"Papa," Dew murmurs, and Copia feels a tremor move through him; there's a particular voice Dewdrop uses when he wants something. Silky and dark and slow. A drawl. It's what he's using now, and he hasn't the ability to deny him anything. And if Dewdrop is about to angle for a little action, backstage and hurried with Copia in his papal robes- well. It'd be sinful, of course. And it would be wrong to not take advantage of that, right?

What's My Name? - @copiasjuicebox - papa iv x swiss

"Why don't you ask me how I'm doing?" in which, the audience doesn't refer to Papa as "Papa" and it strikes a chord.

And You Know That It Takes Two - @forlorn-crows - papa iv x dewdrop

“Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?” When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar.

tumblr ficlet - @littlemoon-beam - papa iv x dewdrop

He can't look away from his hands, the way the veins flex under his skin as he expertly plays. Copia hears his own shuddering breath, wishing he could feel them on his skin even if only for a moment. He'd worship every fingertip if given half the chance. What really gets him though, what makes his chest tight and his stomach twist, is when he finishes and smiles, head tilted and eyes bright. "Was that ok, Papa?"

Changing of the Seasons - @kissingghouls - papa iv x cirrus

Cirrus and Copia share an umbrella on a rainy day.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[seiya-starsniper]

Six Degrees of Separation - Ch 5 (Sandman x Dead Boy Detectives)

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Crystal Palace/Charles Rowland (DCU), Johanna Constantine/Jenny Green

Rating: Teen & Up | Status: Incomplete | Chapters 5/6 | Words: 9.3K

Tags: POV Multiple, Hob Gadling gives live advice to a bunch of teenagers, while helping them solve cases, that's it that's the fic, also he maybe plays matchmaker for his hot mess bestie, fic starts out as crystal/charles and ends with charles/edwin, Mutual Pining, Slice of Life, Hob Gadling adopts the Dead Boy Detectives

Tumblr Posts: Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4

Read Chapter 5 below, or at the above link on AO3

Charles and Crystal call it quits after only four months of dating. They tried, they really did, but there’s way too many other things that Crystal’s worried about right now that just make dating impossible for her. 

For one, she still has David buried in a corner of her brain, and he’s already made two attempts this month to try and break out. Crystal desperately needs to find a way to get rid of him completely, before he could wreak havoc on her body without her permission again. Not to mention Crystal’s been trying really hard to make up for all the horrible things she did while she was possessed by David. Each day, it seems like she crosses one item off the list only to find two more things she hadn’t remembered before.

And that’s the other thing, Crystal’s fully back in London now, trying to pick her life back up where she left off, and that includes interacting with living people, people who can’t otherwise see Charles and Edwin. She still makes time to help the boys with their cases, but most of her involvement is now restricted to late nights and weekends, and even then, her old friends now think she’s some sort of weird shut in when she declines invite after invite to some party here or a nightclub event there. 

Crystal doesn’t know how she previously managed to live the way she did before. Going out to parties every single night, skipping classes until she got kicked out of every private school her parents used their money to get her into, getting into fights with literally everyone. There’s just so much that she did wrong, she’s surprised she had any friends left to go back to. And even then, none of them trust that she’s turned over a new leaf, that she wants to be better. Some of them even think she’s just putting up an act for some guy, and that once he dumps her she’ll go back to being the same old Crystal.

The worst part is, she is— was —doing just that. Being part of the Dead Boy Detectives made Crystal feel good , like if she somehow saved enough souls, helped enough people, she could make up for some of the awful things she’d forced people to do when she abused her psychic powers. There weren't a lot of things she could outright apologize to the wronged parties for, not without revealing that she had powers in the first place. 

Being with Charles too, that had made her feel good. Charles was so much nicer than all the other boys she’d loved before, he was earnest, kind, and optimistic, even if that last trait annoyed her from time to time. Charles was patient with her too, he always offered her a word of comfort and a shoulder to cry on as Crystal struggled to reconcile her memories of the past with who she was now.

It still wasn’t enough. And they both knew it. Charles was still terrible about opening up about his insecurities, and Crystal still had a bad temper. They fought a lot, sometimes about Crystal’s mean personality, and sometimes about Charles' hero complex. Charles had nearly died on a case more than once, and even though Crystal, Edwin and even the fucking Night Nurse had scolded him about his recklessness, Charles had brushed them off and retreated back into his sunny, optimistic personality. She also hated that even though Charles could manifest a somewhat physical form to cuddle with her at night, Crystal still inevitably woke up alone, because ghosts don’t sleep, and the Dead Boy Detectives are always on the clock.

So, in the end, a breakup was inevitable, but she doesn’t regret it, even if things are going to be awkward for a little bit. 

Johanna and Jenny take her out for a girl’s night when it happens, but that just ends up reminding Crystal of what she very much doesn’t have. It’s not like Johanna and Jenny are the gross PDA type of couple, but there’s no denying that they’re madly, stupidly in love with one another, even if the two of them try to hide it with sarcasm and friendly jabs. 

-------------------------

“I want what Jenny and Johanna have,” Crystal confesses to Hob later over a plate of fish and chips. “I mean—not the girlfriend part. Actually wait, I don’t know about that either,” she adds, nibbling on a particularly crispy chip. “We’ll put a pin in that, for now. But what I actually meant was—I want to love someone who’s alive . Is that terrible of me? Charles can’t help what he is, but—”

“It’s not terrible,” Hob interrupts her before she can spiral into a mess of self-loathing and guilt. “You’re going to eventually grow older, become an adult, and Charles won’t. It’s neither of your faults, that’s just the way it is.”

“Yeah,” Crystal agrees, sighing. “We had a short shelf life to begin with, but it still sucks, ” she laments. 

Hob nods, then takes a sip of his beer. “I understand, sort of anyways. Never tried to date a ghost before, but, well, every relationship is a short one when you can’t die.”

“Really? You’ve never tried to like, date a vampire or some other immortal?” Crystal asks. “Or is it because you’re holding out for your situationship to work out?”

Hob groans. “For the last time we’re just—”

“Yeah, yeah, friends,” Crystal interrupts him, rolling her eyes, before she brazenly steals a crisp off Hob’s plate. “At least I have someone to talk to who’s also miserable and single, I guess.” 

“Misery does in fact, love company,” Hob agrees with a laugh before he holds up his beer to her. “I’ll drink to that.”

“I would drink, but someone won’t serve me alcohol while I’m here,” Crystal snarks, holding up her lemonade. She may or may not have spiked it while Hob wasn’t looking.

“Laws are laws, Crystal,” Hob replies, clinking their glasses together. “And no, I don’t want to know if you added anything to your own drink, let me be a responsible bar owner for once, please, ” he adds, and Crystal laughs. They toast, and then Crystal checks her phone and responds to messages, while Hob grades a few more papers. 

“So how come I haven’t met your situationship yet, anyways?” Crystal asks, breaking the silence. Hob groans. 

“Let’s switch to a different topic,” the older man says, before his face lights up. “Crystal, what do you think about enrolling in University next year?”

-------------------------

Things slowly fall back into place as Charles practically glues himself to Edwin’s side now that he and Crystal have called it quits. Crystal also finally draws some boundaries on how many late nights she can actually afford to give them to help with solving cases. Edwin is more than generous with giving her some slack, and Crystal sometimes bitterly wonders if he’s only being so kind because it gives him more alone time with Charles.

Right. Negative thinking is definitely the first thing that she needs to work on. 

So Crystal lets herself rest, lets herself slowly work on sorting out her relationship with her friends, her parents, and all the other living people in her life. She lets herself grieve Niko. She makes Hob and Johanna help her lookup ways to banish David from her brain for good. 

It helps. And slowly, slowly, Crystal starts to feel better about herself.

Of course, right around the same time that happens, Edwin nearly dies (permanently) when someone stabs him with an iron knife. The noise Edwin makes is not something Crystal ever wants to hear ever again. She desperately holds his hand while Charles sprints back to the office, searching desperately for 

“Don’t you dare die on me, Edwin,” Crystal says, squeezing Edwin’s hand as tightly as she can manage. 

“I–I,” Edwin coughs, then groans in pain. “I’m already dead, Crystal.”

“Fuck off,” Crystal bites back, but she smiles, despite herself. “You’re going to be okay. Charles is getting the book that’ll heal you and you’re going to be just fine.”

“I know,” Edwin says, then coughs again.

Charles comes back what feels like hours later, a large book in hand. He starts reciting the spell in a language Crystal’s never heard before, and when the last of the iron damage disappears, he pulls Edwin into a bone crushing hug that somehow turns into a desperate kiss between the two of them. 

Crystal quickly makes herself scarce, already deciding to drown her sorrows at The New Inn. 

Jenny brings her the most ridiculous looking fudge sundae, and Hob doesn’t even say anything when Crystal takes out her flask and pours vodka into the lemonade he serves her. He doesn’t open a tab either.

“Well, can't say I wasn't expecting that,” Crystal says, as she recalls how the night ended. She sighs and takes a deep gulp of her spiked drink, not really caring that Hob was looking at her disapprovingly. “More of a matter of when it would happen, really.”

“You gonna be okay?” Jenny asks her, clearly concerned. Crystal laughs because if Jenny was worried about her, then Crystal really must look like shit right now. Still, she nods and then takes another large bite of her sundae. 

“Yeah. I’m the one who broke up with Charles after all,” Crystal says, then sighs again. “They really are made for each other aren't they?”

“Yeah,” Hob agrees, before sliding a glass of water in front of her. “They are.”

Crystal rolls her eyes, but sips at the water anyways. Hob had given her a little umbrella with her cup, it would be a crime not to drink it. 

-------------------------

Funny enough, it's Edwin that corners her first the day after witnessing the awkward kiss.

“Charles is researching something,” Edwin tells her, which Crystal knows is Edwin speak for ‘I kicked him out so we could talk alone.’

“We don't need to talk about it, Edwin,” Crystal sighs, rubbing her forehead. Even with Hob practically forcing water on her yesterday, she still had a headache, and it was way too early in the morning to be having a feelings discussion. “It's fine. Really. We're cool. It's not like it wasn't obvious how you two felt about each other from the start,” she adds, trying not to sound bitter about the whole ordeal. 

“I assure you, nothing was obvious to either me, or Charles,” Edwin says. “And…well. It was still rather impolite to—how did you say it—‘make a move’ on your ex?”

Crystal snorts. “Technically, Charles made the move, not you,” she replies, recalling how Charles had just gravitated towards Edwin like he always had. Edwin simply hadn’t protested when it finally happened.

“Semantics,” Edwin says, waving a hand. “But Crystal,” he says, looking at her very seriously now. “I do not wish there to be any bad blood between us. You are—our friend.” 

Crystal brightens immediately. “You just called me your friend,” she teases, then laughs when Edwin blushes straight to his ears and coughs.

“ Our friend,” Edwin insists. 

“Semantics,” Crystal says, parroting Edwin’s earlier remark, much to his chagrin. “You’re never getting rid of me now,” she adds, right before hugging him. Edwin hugs her back this time, even if it takes a few moments for him to lift his arms. 

“I really am happy for you,” Crystal admits when they finally pull apart. 

“Thank you,” Edwin replies, giving her one of his few genuine smiles. He looks so happy that Crystal can’t help but grin at him too. 

“You owe me like, five thousand favors for helping you two figure your shit out, though,” Crystal says, then laughs when Edwin gives her a withering look.

“We would've figured it out on our own eventually,” Edwin protests.

“In the 21st century?” Crystal snorts. “Unlikely.”

[kaftan]

Some Notes on Arcs 18-20

(Long post! Here there be ramblings! Sorry)

- I forgot this was an arc 18 moment till I checked — Taylor feeling seduced (her words) by Dinah’s power, longing to hold on to her despite her mission being to free her… goosebumps. I love how the villains she hates rub off on her, worm (ha) into her.

- And then describing the act of returning her to her home as throwing away a resource… something that felt dumb to do… being proven right, in a sense, in arc 20, when it comes back to bite her… I’m reminded of some dialogue from animorphs that I’ll have to paraphrase, something about how what matters isn’t what’s right or wrong, it’s what’s expedient. Taylor isn’t all the way there yet, but feels like a matter of time.

- More on Taylor and morality: it’s fascinating to see her go through the same rough trajectory for every major battle — she starts from her baseline, being disturbed at the notion of seriously hurting or killing anyone, slowly numbs that sentiment with plenty of half-hearted strands of reasoning, eventually escalates to the point of cold-blooded violence or the enablement of such… and feels nothing. “Dissociation as an integral aspect of being” moment!

- I love Jessica Yamada. Not enough to read Ward, I have my limits. Getting a better perspective on the “all Amy’s horses and all Amy’s men couldn’t put Victoria back together again” situation was a treat. I love the horror elements in Worm. I love the horror of having the face of your trauma etched into the folds of your brain.

- Met Sveta! People on tumblr namedrop her a lot, to the point where I wondered if she’d been introduced before and I forgot. She’s a darling.

- Lily’s meltdown about Skitter… you can’t even look straight at her without feeling your skin crawl ❤️ but she sounds idealistic and naive even with cockroaches and bees crawling over her face ❤️ she starts making sense ❤️

- [Trickster voice] my beautiful gamer princess with a disorder… talk to me…

- This quote here:

“I mentioned it in passing to Miss Militia,” I said, “Better that you tell the truth and say we pushed hard for it. Blame me.”

“No,” Regent said, “Blame me.”

I shot him a look, and he shrugged. “Just wanted to get in on the fun,” he said.

says so much about Alec, lmao. It flagged in my brain because it’s the second time I’ve consciously noted it: his jokes about wanting to be included speak volumes. The truth he does not dare to know, etc etc

- Taylor “we cannot rule out human sacrifice” Hebert

- Marissa: She’s my friend. / Taylor: Was. It’s a big difference. Fast forward: Emma interlude, crossing paths at Arcadia. I love storytelling.

- Speaking of the Emma interlude: reading about Taylor’s bullying always makes me feel queasy; this was bone nausea on a deep level. What happened to Taylor is like if your worst fears about other people came true. You know, the nagging worry that you’re a burden, that a late text means I don’t want to be your friend. The worry that any reasonable person will tell you to ignore. How the fuck do you come back from living that nightmare?

Reminds me of Amy, how what happened to her is like if your worst fears about yourself came true.

- Everyone always talks about Taylor’s repressed rage but holy shit her repressed rage. What a character. What a character. I love her fantasies of violence. I love how much she basks in that meager catharsis.

- There’s something beautiful about how effortless the supervillain persona is for Taylor. (Every you is the real you, you are the mask and the wearer, etc.) Her standoff against Dragon and Defiant might be one of my favorite scenes yet. The perfectly affected nonchalance, the hanging threats toward hostages (becoming a theme), the mile-a-minute plotting, the grandiose gestures, the leveraging of fear… she’s a wonder and a terror.

- When she smiles and Clockbocker says “Fuck me, it just sunk in. It’s really her.” :-)))

- “and so that Defiant could make something resembling an apology as part of his twelve step assholes anonymous process” I fucking love you Taylor I love you forever

[afreakingdork]

Tactical En Suite

RotTMNT Donatello x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Aged-up Turtles, Guns, Cursing, Hate Fucking, Edging, Fingering, Sex, Groping, Creampie, Light Knifeplay

Synopsis:  After a month of training, you were ready to exact your vengeance. Now you just needed Donatello to behave long enough during a 1v1 Airsoft match so that you can actually enjoy it.

This is a sequel to Tactical Entreat: Tumblr 💜 Ao3

Also available on Ao3

As always, this would not be possible without @donathan 's incredible tactical!Donnie concept and @unknownfanartist 's brainstorming prowess!

Also, I apologize for shifting from a GN!Reader to a female one. I kept it vague until absolutely necessary if that helps at all...

PLEASE NOTE: MINORS JUST DON'T OK?! THERE'S TAGS! BE COOL AND DNI 😩

You: Rematch. 1v1. No bullshit.

He was beyond infuriating. After a short respite that day, you’d made it back to the graveyard with little issue. Much to your surprise, Donnie had conceded defeat and your team had won. Though the overall tie was unsatisfying, the conversation shifted to finishing up for the day. Having never thought to reach for your phone, you found out over half a day had flown by. It brought your gaze skyward where the clouds were maybe incrementally darker than what you’d accessed. You were fine to leave everything as it was. You’d had your fill and outlet. You were feeling better. You were fully prepared to just leave the scorching make-out session among the trees where it probably belonged. That was, until, everyone had started to head out.

About to put another cigarette between his lips, Donatello had made eye contact. He smirked and made a slow show of the action because you couldn't seem to wrench your eyes away from his mouth. His brow arched into a quirked mocking question and the move immediately reignited a flicker of the earlier flame of hatred. You would have spoken to it had he not then approached you. You watched in annoyance as he chose not to address you, but instead put on another sensual charade of lighting said cigarette and taking his first puff. Lucky for him, he chose to blow said smoke away from you. If he had chosen otherwise you would have decked him right there and then. Instead, he packed his lighter into one pocket of his vest and produced a log book from another. You caught a glimpse of strange lines of data that quickly disappeared as he found a blank page. The pad then lifted out of your vision as he scrawled something out.

“If you ever want to actually improve your skills.” He noted as he ripped out the page and handed it over to you.

You took it and reviewed the number for a moment. You had wondered if he'd meant it as some kind of innuendo until you swept your gaze back to his face. The teasing twinkle had evaporated and in its place was a cool calculating look that said your firing skills would never be on his level, but he’d take pity on you. He’d probably make you beg. You’d never give him the satisfaction.

“No thanks.” You replied nonchalantly before making your own show of crumpling the paper into a tight fisted wad. You wanted to leave him with a final quip, but nothing powerful enough came to mind. Shifting gears, you moved to the secondary language of your body. You dropped your lids and gave him a long once over with a bored expression. He reached up and covered his lips as he took another puff from his cigarette. You then gave a small yawn and curved your body into turning away. Within the first few steps away you heard the faintest clicking of tongue. It hadn’t been near enough vengeance, but for then it was enough.

Now, however, was month later and that annoyed knot in your stomach had grown to a relative ulcer of frustration. The purple bastard had wormed his way into your brain and you couldn’t forget how maddeningly annoying he was. His pomp and circumstance when it came to a stupid game. His lackadaisical peacocking as if he were the universe’s gift to Airsofting. His overzealous roaming hands. You took another shot at the target and examined how it punctured through the dead center of the paper. A smile graced your lips.

You’d stolen a rifle and that busted handgun from your friend’s sister. It wasn’t because of him. You’d found a nice empty lot and even contacted its owner to ask if you could use it for practice. His comment about your ability was the furthest from your mind. You’d studied, dismantled, and fixed the small crack in the handgun that had been causing the BBs to jam. His dopey chuckles didn’t keep you from sleep. After firing a few more accurate shots, you peeled open the vest you purchased to insert a fresh magazine. You had just picked up a hobby.

It just so happened to be perfectly suited for a hearty serving of revenge.

That was, if he would answer the fucking text.

Agitated, you fired at the target page until it shredded off its stand and hung in two flapping pieces. Releasing your rifle into its straps hold, you unearthed your phone and unlocked it. Bringing up said text chain, you found it had been a week since you'd sent the message. If you were any pettier you would have thrown your phone to take out the target stand as well. Sure, you’d neglected to introduce yourself or gone through any common courtesies, but who was he if he expected that. You crossed the lot to set up a new page.

Having combed over the possibilities a few times, you couldn’t help but review them again. One, he automatically screened out unknown numbers. It seemed possibly with his holier than thou attitude, but in that same vein, there was no way he didn’t at least see the message preview. Two, he knew it was you and was simply ignoring you. Following a similar logic from the previous point, it wasn’t something you’d put past him. This was your preferred point and also the one that stoked the flames of your hatred the most. Three, he saw the message and simply didn’t remember you. While you hated him, you despised this thought the most. It meant that your irate mania was completely one sided. A refusal on his part to even acknowledge you in his mental data banks. It was the unbridled biting insignificance. Having crossed the lot, you turned and did a quick change from the rifle to your handgun. You then emptied the entire clip into the paper, shredding it once again. You preferred option two.

You were about to reset yet again when your phone pinged. You paused and soured. The timing would be too perfect so you shoved the thought aside. Lazily holstering your handgun, you swapped it for your phone. Opening it, your eyes widened with fury. The preview text glared back at you so you opened it with a near deranged smile on your face.

Asshole: Just got back into country. Interesting proposition. Worried a team would take you down too quickly?

Part of your brain begged you not to reply right then and there. He’d know a response that quickly meant you had your phone close by and would reek of desperation. Unfortunately, any reasonable sense you’d had was shredded by his garbage attitude.

You: Or maybe I want to look you dead in the eye when I shoot you without having to waste BBs on anyone else.

Asshole: You’ll need that many shots then?

He was an unquestionable bastard.

You: I’ll need the extra bullets as payback for the bruises.

Asshole: Some of them you asked for.

Having crossed over to your target stand, you not only ripped off the already damaged page, but shredded it into tiny pieces. You had to get a hold of yourself and not give him an inch of satisfaction. You fully intended to leave him on read while you packed up. Firing more shots would help you in the short term, but you wanted to conserve that energy for the game he’d hopefully agree to. Heading back to your car, you heard your phone ping again. Scrunching up your nose, you pulled it out and raised a curious brow. The preview had a row of numbers. Opening the message, you found it to be coordinates along with a date. You sent only a check mark in response and set your sights on next Saturday.

-

It was only as you pulled onto yet another dirt road that you began to question your sanity. Driving out to the literal edge of nowhere to meet a man you barely knew probably wasn’t the smartest decision. At least you were armed. It would be more of a comfort if you didn’t already agree to him being armed as well. Pushing the thought down and clutching the steering wheel tight, you curved along with the road. You’d taken preliminary precautions; your friend knew your location and had bet money on Donatello beating you. It was the exact boost of confidence you knew to expect from them. They would have their own little downfall in time. You considered it a fun incentive to ensure your victory.

Another bend in the road revealed a longer stretch and odd rectangles dotting the distance. Your tires crawling along, you identified them as at least a dozen dilapidated shipping containers. Hunching forward, you stared at them curiously as you drove up. They were the epitome of displaced and you wondered who’d abandoned them out here. As far as your Maps was concerned, there wasn’t a residence for several miles. The road tapered off and a series of skirted patches of grass signaled for you to park. There was no other vehicle to be seen. Frowning, you checked your phone and found you were only a minute ahead of the meeting time. He seemed like both the type to be prick that’d keep you waiting and an incessant nag about punctuality. Exiting your car, you shrugging off the curiosity in exchange for preparations.

From your trunk, you applied your vest and accessed your gear. You’d already given everything a once over before leaving so there was little to observe. The first bubbles of irritation steaming, you leaned back and observed the sky. The cloudless blue expanse meant the sun was beaming down relentlessly. Rolling your eyes away from the insufferable star, you caught a flicker of light from atop a distant shipping container. Squinting, you watched as a black object shifted incrementally and a thin stream of barely there smoke wafted off the position.

At this point you welcomed the stoking of the flames.

You flipped off the direction of the sighting and watched as Donatello popped up from where he’d been lying down. You folded your arms and waited as he took his time putting out his cigarette. He then gathered up his gear and hopped down to the ground like it was nothing. You didn’t allow yourself to outwardly balk, but the containers were at least 8 feet tall. With his rifle slung, he strolled over lazily.

“Enjoy the show?” You bit out, moving to close your trunk with a slam.

“No. It was sloppy actually.” He responded evenly.

You craned your head back to glare at him. “Come again?”

“The back strap shouldn’t touch your neck.” Without saying another word, he slipped his hands around said tie and yanked you almost off your feet.

“Hey!” You barked and took a swing at him.

Using his handhold, he jerked you away. “You think you could take a helpful tip with some form of grace.”

“Put me down.” You ordered, reigning your limbs in.

He did so carefully and you could tell by the way he shifted his stance that he was prepared to run if you launched at him. Stewing, you settled into another scathing look. 

“It can be fixed. You just didn’t position it properly.” He pointed.

“Much like your attitude.” You spoke out the corner of your mouth as you undid a buckle.

A sharp exhale of breath from him meant he’d found your comment amusing. You could just picture his smarmy face. You needed to withhold that fury until you were on the field. Undoing the vest, you lifted it and prepared to lower it when a hand stalled you. Before you could blink, the vest was back down around your torso and the straps along the side were being strung tight. In the time it took you to move your pupils to make eye contact, the resounding click of the buckle signaled he was already done.

“It's faster that way.” He tossed over his shoulder and began to head toward the containers.

Gritting your teeth, you unholstered your handgun and pointed it at the back of his head. You watched him for several paces before lowering it. It wouldn’t be much longer. You filed in a frustrated line after him. As the first container approached, he did an about face and his posture snapped straight.

“Chest shots are automatic deaths. Four limb shots are the same. Any preference in rounds?”

You glanced at him before donning your goggles and a ball cap. “One and done seems a little too fast.”

“Let’s say three deaths is an out then.”

“How did you get here?”

“Pardon?” He didn’t falter, but tipped his head up gradually.

“There’s no other car in the parking… area.” You gestured back to where you’d come from.

“I stashed it.” He nodded towards the tree line flanking the west side of the field.

You looked to where he gestured and then back at him incredulously. “You’re joking.”

He folded his arms in a manner that said he wasn’t.

“So you’re this anal with everything.” You waved over his form.

“You mispronounced cautious.”

“You mispronounced paranoid.” Your quip came out so fast that you got to watch his expression in real time.

Instead of lining up another insult, his gaze seemed to darken instead. That had hit some kind of nerve. You shifted not out of discomfort, but from the sun’s stifling rays. “I’m assuming you agreed to ‘no bullshit’ rule already by coming out here?”

“The stage itself should prevent that.” He twisted his gun around into his hands.

“No getting on top of these things like you were earlier.”

“Fine.” He gave a tight nod.

“Then let’s play.” You shifted your weight in preparation to take off. “Two minute to positions?”

“I’ll even let you have a head start.”

There was a fraction of a second where you were almost grateful for the return off the asshole amidst his stuffy attitude. That was until you saw that damn cocky smile of his. Regardless, you took off to the right and heard the faint trailing of his laughter behind you. You were going to shoot that smile right off his face. Weaving around aged metal, you took note of the layout. Some of the containers were whole and others were warped; there were worn ones that had weathered to near collapse and some that were outright halved. Of the intact metal rectangles, none of them seemed to have accessible doors and were welded shut. It was nice to note a safety precaution in an otherwise abandoned setting.

Mentally ticking down the seconds, you steadied yourself as the timer ran out. You’d taken position near one of the farther blue containers not on the perimeter. Underfoot, sun bleached grass made the softest crunch that you needed to watch out for. Swallowing, you evened out your breathing and let the sounds come to you. Bugs buzzed, but the air was otherwise still and sticky. Raising your rifle, you peeked out from behind your cover. Seeing nothing, you jogged for the next container. There was the unmistakable echo of footsteps that seemed to be trying to mask under yours. Eyes narrowing, you pegged their position and twisted around the container to head for it. Leading barrel first, you jumped out from behind the container and found no one there. Drooping for a only a moment, you were forced forward a step when a single shot hit the dead center of your back.

Spinning around to the spot, you heard the faintest chuckle as he disappeared. The one on one parameters shifted the game in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Ducking behind another container, you reevaluated your strategy. It would be a jockeying of who moved first and then a series of reactionary actions. Scooting along the container, you dropped down low. Obviously listening for him was a fool’s errand since he could somehow throw his steps. You’d just have to move and try to keep him on his toes.

Darting out, you almost collided with him. Though he fired first, your proximity wasn’t something he accounted for and only one of the bullets hit your arm. You, on the other hand, fired directly into his chest.

“I see.” He remarked with a knowing tone before disappearing behind the container you’d just left from. Twirling around, you ran, putting distance between the two of you. Sweat began to gather on the back of your neck. Repeating the mantra of ‘keep him on his toes,’ you swayed to a halt and tried to picture how he’d adjust to your blind running. Smirking, you turned and immediately backtracked the exact line you’d run. Hearing the sharp reverberating of a body hitting an empty container, you twisted around and shot before your eyes hit the target. The spray hit Donatello across the chest and he glowered back at you.

“Be seeing ya!” You gave a punctuated wink before disappearing around another container. “In the grave!” You tacked on, twisting away from the direction you’d sent your voice. You were up, but it wasn’t time to get cocky. You had to keep shifting your strategy or he’d be able to gather his bearings. Without stopping, you made for the perimeter and kept a jog along it. The sun overhead beat down relentless on your gear. In a veritable pressure cooker, you neared the bottom half of the field and made a sharp left turn. A spray of bullets hit a container you passed and you returned fire. Refusing to stop, you listened above your own pants for a sign that he’d realize where you were headed. It wasn’t long until until his jogging boots thudded after you. You spun around and opened fire in a wide arch across the area behind you. You stilled, waiting as the container’s resonance to quiet.

It took several long moments before Donatello emerged with his hands up. As soon as he appeared you jumped into the air, letting your rifle drop from your hands.

“I did it!” You landed and pointed at him. “How’s it feel, dickhead!?”

He lowered his arms and evaluated you.

You straightened from where you’d bent a knee to gloat and watched him warily.

His eye lingered along your sweat soaked collar.

You stiffened against your will. It was hard to identify exactly what was off about his gaze, but it unsettled you. The sweep was near clinical, but being done through the scope of half-lidded eyes felt menacing. You were trapped and as soon as he caught wind of it, that smirk tugged at his lips. He took steps to close the distance between you and with each footfall it seemed to spread across his face. By the time he reached you, he was a tower of egotism. You’d won, so what did he have to gloat over?

“Don’t tell me your going to nitpick my performance?” You managed to bring your brows down in an approximation of a scowl.

“No.” There was an airy quality to his voice.

“Then what?” You felt tightly coiled.

“Want to play a round where I don’t hold back?”

This time the muscles contracting in your body were done in an attempt to hold yourself back. Your lip curled back and you instinctually bared your teeth. He’d gone lower than you’d even thought possible. “I get the feeling your bothers are the only ones who can stand to be around you out of sheer obligation.”

He gave a single dry snort. You didn’t think it was possible, but that damn smirk of his somehow grew.

“Laugh it up now…”

“We’ll even the odds.”

You had long reached your boiling point. “If you think-”

“I commend your playing. You unequivocally won, but you have no idea what you’re up against.”

“You bas-”

“If you can land a single hit…” He bent at the hips and brought his face up to yours.

You resisted the urge to spit in it immediately just to see how much saliva you needed to pack.

“…anywhere on my person, then you automatically win.” He gave a calculated tilt of his head. “As a reward, I’ll humiliate myself how you see fit.”

That was enough to give you pause. “In your whole life, has no one ever popped that horrific confidence bubble of yours?”

“Oh, they have.” He reached up and ran a finger down the scarring along his jaw. “But it’s been a long while.”

You watched the digit’s excruciatingly slow trek before realizing what he had done and snapped your gaze back to his. Amusement danced in his eyes and you turned your head slightly away.

“Fine. I’ll play, but you better be ready.” You set your own cocksure grin to as high a degree as you could muster.

He gave an satisfied nod before straightening.

Something about it gave you pause. “What do you get if you win?”

“I’ll have won.” He said simply, gathering his rifle.

His mere existence brought bile to your throat. “Two minutes?” The faster you could clear this, the faster you could garner your reward.

“Sure.” His nonchalance was somehow even more antagonistic.

You turned but refused to give him the satisfaction of running. You sauntered until you cleared the first container and then picked up your pace as you again started a mental countdown. Finding a sliver of shade, you held back your rifle and weighed your options. He was surely taunting you to a point, but there was more to it. For one, there had been Mikey’s comment from the last game about humans. It was easy enough to acknowledge mutant prowess, but their abilities could fluctuate so wildly. You didn’t have a the best handle on what Donatello’s were. Of the few tastes you’d gotten, the one that stuck out to you was when he adjusted your vest. You undoubtedly would have to contend with that speed. If he could keep up that pace, then you were outmatched.

With the last seconds timing out, you refilled your rifle’s magazine. You only needed to land a single shot so laying down cover fire was your best bet. Shifting, you inched down the container and spied the next. It was one of the dilapidated ones where part of it was missing. If you could nestle yourself into the leftover corner, you’d only have to cover your front. Nodding to yourself, you mad a dash for it and felt several nips at your heels. It caused you to skid into your destination and whirl around wildly.

“Two shots to the legs.” His voice floated in with no discernible source.

You aimed your rifle and scanned the best you could. From your far right you felt a single shot hit your shoulder.

“One to the arm.”

You turned your head to where the BB had come. There was no one there. You grit your teeth. Turning back, you found him standing right next to you.

“Boo.” He said simply before pulling the trigger into your right arm.

You bit down on a scream and instead twisted to swing your rifle at him.

He leaned away from the action and caught the butt of your gun with ease.

“How…?” You hadn’t meant to voice your surprise.

He leaned his head to the side and gave a smile that had a malevolent edge to it.

It made the hairs on the back of your neck rise up.

You also couldn’t help but stare at the way it showed off one of his pointed canines.

“Shall we call this off?”

“Isn’t it still to three?” You were almost glad your gun was creating space between you.

“Yes, well…” He trailed off and shifted his grip. You glanced down as he returned your rifle to you. Hugging the gun close, you brought a wary eye back to him. “I figured I’d give you an out.”

“Think your smoke and mirrors play scared me?” You tore your eyes away and off to the playing field.

“I know it did.” He replied, taking a languid step back.

“Sneaking up on someone doesn’t really count.” You set your jaw to keep from glancing after him. “If I’d done the same to you, I bet you would have jumped.”

He gave a little hum as he pondered your assertion. “I suppose I would find it surprising.”

“There you go.” You inched your neck towards him, but kept your eyes down. The silence wedged itself between you and you examined his boots. “You take off this time.”

“Fine by me.”

You lifted your eyes to watch as he took a single step back. You weren’t sure if you blinked, but within the next second he simply vanished. Your jaw didn’t drop, but your lips parted. Super speed didn’t seem like a severe enough descriptor. That paired with his insane reflexes meant whatever chances you’d even considered were quickly dwindling. Having had no luck in your current position, you turned and peeled off. Outrunning him was out of the question, so you pivoted hard enough to carve out a divot in the field. Twisting around you made it a few more strides before repeating the action. A bullet ricocheted off a container you neared.

You smiled and fired your rifle over your shoulder. You were pretty sure it uselessly shot skyward, but it was a warning. Twirling, you continued to rhythmless scurrying. Pushing your limbs to the limit, you heard the nicks of BBs piercing the soil around you. He wasn’t calling strikes so your unpredictable movements were at least partially doing their job. It wasn’t something you could sustain, so you started to fire your gun in a similar haphazard nature. Whizzing discharge kicked up a cacophony of sound. It was only matched by your palpating heartbeat as it began to thrum in your ears. Overhead the sun watched your display with merciless criticism. Feeling the rays nearly piercing your blood vessels, you made hexagonal footwork to the edge of the field and rounded the cover of a container.

You dropped to your knees as soon it afforded you shelter. Immediately the labored breaths forced their way past your lips and you fisted dried matchsticks of grass. You watched as several beads of sweat fell from your brow and were instantly absorbed by the cracked soil.

“I applaud you.”

Hearing his voice from above, you rolled over onto your back and took aim at him.

His hands raised up in armistice as you spotted him on top of the container.

“Is that how you’ve been getting around?” You went limp and your gun teetered on your chest.

“No.”

“You’re not cheating? You said you wouldn't get up there!” You wouldn’t admit it to him, but it was nice to have a moment to catch your breath.

“I agreed to the terms. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Then what are you doing?”

He stared in a way that said to check his last sentence.

You sneered at him. “You know what I mean.”

“It isn’t often that I get to see something new. I wanted to acknowledge that.”

“New?” You’d humor him if only to prolong your break. Snapping open one of your vest’s pouches, you retrieved a handkerchief and wiped your face.

“No, there’s been a lot of attempts to weave from my bullets, but that was quite the spectacle.”  

You made a show of giving a fake laugh and replaced the dirtied cloth into its pocket. “I guess we’ll call it a preview.”

“You’ll be able to do it again?” There was a mixture of doubt and mirth swirling in his tone.

You shot him a glare and snapped to your feet. Even under the intense heat, you could feel the flicker of that angry fire in your chest. You’d almost forgotten about it. It was about time it showed back up. “More like a preview for when I beat you.”

“Oh ho!” He disappeared from sight and you heard him drop down heavily on the other side of the container. You instantly knew it was a signal that the next match had kicked off. Your blood pressure dropped as you twisted around the container, gun ready. He was unfortunately correct. There was no way you could put on the same dodge tactic again. Not unless you lost the vest to free up some extra movement. Deciding against it, you came around the side of the container he’d landed and laid down a line of fire. Spinning around, you then fired off a line of shots where you’d come from and glimpsed his form duck back out of sight.

You waited in hopes to hear his voice, but were met with silence. “Your elusive ass will call it if I hit you, right?!”

“You’re wasting your breath.”

You understood it as an affirmation, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Parting a glare at the sun, you continued the back and forth spree until you glimpsed his form far to the right. Spinning, you slipped right back to whence you had come and prepared to start the process over again. What you weren’t ready for was him to materialize behind you and firing a handgun shot straight into your back.

“I take back my earlier applause.”

In two steps, you danced around and, against the unwritten rules of the game, you fired your own handgun where he had once been.

“You're being unsportsmanlike.”

“You’re one to talk!” You were on the move before you could process where your feet were carrying you. A scatter of shots followed your heels as you slid behind another container. Your back slammed against it and the heat from its sunbathed exterior wafted through your vest. Refusing to linger, you were on the move again paving the way with a spray of pellets. The much needed adrenaline was finally pumping through your veins. Somehow skirting another burst from your opponent, you returned fire. The blazing determination to crush Donatello made every step feel like scorched earth. Keeping your back to another container, you fired straight down to the end of your clip. You quickly exchanged magazines before realizing you were in the same alcove where you’d taken your first loss.

Suddenly on guard, you dove to the right on pure instinct and heard several shots echo off the dull metal. Lifting onto your palms you swiveled your head to find him out in the open, his gun trained on you. Even the bugs seemed to fall under the hush as you winced for the oncoming shot. Instead, you were met with the harsh click of an empty barrel. Blood rushed to your limbs and you made for your hand gun. You could feel the counter of each nano second as the gun slipped into one hand. Your other pushed off the grass. One leg swept outward and the other slid up on a knee. Rolling through the motion, you glimpsed him scrambling to replace his magazine. A smile bloomed on your face as the realization that you’d outpace him came. Blades clipped at your feet as you stood and your arm brought the gun up to position. You watched as the magazine seemingly slipped from Donatello’s fingers while yours pulled back on the trigger.

The resounding gong of your back slamming against the container was so loud your hearing was temporarily muffled. Dizzy from both the impact and subsequent sound, you stared weakly at your opponent. Still in the same place across from you, Donatello had his arm stretched out in your direction. Confused, you squinted at him and looked for your handgun. It lay at your feet so you moved to grab it. The immovable tug of your vest came first. Then the searing pain. In a way it was sobering. You barely needed to turn your head before the hilt of a large knife came into view.

“Did…” The words were on your lips but it seemed too absurd. “…Did you stab me?”

“Technically one needs to have a grip on the object for it to be a stabbing.”

“Asshole!” You reached up with your free hand to grab the knife.

“Stop!” He was moving towards you, but you refused and wrapped your fingers around the handle.

You were about to tug when your wrist was harshly pulled away. “What is wrong with you!?”

“Would you listen for just one second!?” He pulled your free wrist further and leaned in to examine the blade.

“Hard to when there’s a KNIFE IN MY SHOULDER!” You screamed directly into his ear and kicked at him.

Instead of dodging, he twisted into the motion and used his own legs to pin yours against the container. He then flipped his grip on your wrist and slammed it into the metal as well. Putting all the rest of your anger into a heated glare, you watched as he shifted out of focus and his forehead butted up against yours. When he spoke, his voice was lethally low. “Be quiet like a good girl for once in your damn life and let me fix this.”

He let his gaze wither you until he turned his attention back to the knife. With only one free hand, he studied the object and tested the vest around it. You preemptively winced as he pressed down, but the pain didn’t come as you anticipated.

“It just nicked you. You’ll barely need a bandage.” He grabbed the hilt and in one swift movement pulled it up and out. Slumping down, but still caught by his body pining yours, you watched as he surveyed the blade.

“Oh no, did my body hurt your precious knife?” You fluttered your lashes and feigned a pursed lip.

“Considering the position you’re in, you think you’d know when to shut your mouth.”

“Position?” You nearly gagged on the scoff.

You heard a low rumble of curiosity thrum from his chest as he put more of his weight onto your pinned limbs. You shot him back a bright smile that he narrowed his gaze at. With your newly freed arm, you shot up to swat at his face. Reflexively, he disarmed the move, but seeing as his only free hand was the one with the knife in it, the blade stopped millimeters shy of your cheek.

Your eyes flicked from the blurry black steel to his.

“Understand yet?” He warned, the blade just barely skimming your flesh.

You swallowed down your racing heart beat and mustered a scowl. 

“You’ll never learn.” He gave the knife a light press until it was just biting your skin before removing it.

“Maybe because you’re a shit teacher.”

From where he was slipping the knife back into his vest, the corner of his mouth downturned.

For every bit it descended, yours rose.

“Ask nicely and I’ll prove you wrong.”

“Get fucked.” You nearly spat.

“If you insist.”

For a moment his body left yours and it felt like gravity double as your weight returned to your feet. Swaying from the shift, you barely raised your head when he returned. You could hardly focus on the rest of his body as his hand snaked up your throat. Between a thumb and finger, he squeezed your jaw bone. The move tipped your head back and he hovered over you threateningly.

“Well?” He urged, his breath hot against your lips.

You let your lashes slowly descend and focused on carefully sneaking one of your arms between your chests. As your lids rose from the blink, you fisted the front of his shirt and yanked. In the sliver of time before your lips collided you watched with satisfaction as surprise painted his features. You almost wished you could savor it longer as your eyes instinctually closed and his mouth moved harshly against yours. He still had a grip on your throat and it made anything other than the hand you beat against his chest useless.

Dipping down, he pressed your head against the container’s wall until the metal creaked in protest. It freed up more space between your chests and you fought a blind battle of trying to capture one another’s limbs. Down an arm, you prevailed and twisted your fingers underneath his glove. Finding his pulse point, you dug your nails in and he hissed into your mouth. Breaking the lip lock, he pulled back and flicked your hand away. You watched until he brought his gaze back up and gave him a coy smile.

“Absolutely infuriating.” His voice seethed, but his hand curled away from your jaw to grip your head. You watched the way his chest heaved with mounting excitement.

“You agreed to the rematch.”

There was a flash of irritation in his eye that all but caused your stomach to flip. This time when he attacked, you were ready for him. You strung your arms around his neck and met him with a similar crushing force. Your tongues tangled and in time your knotted your limbs to put pressure onto his shoulders. In return, he scrapped your waist for your hips and pulled you up by your ass. You awkwardly raised your legs for a moment until his knee dipped to give you leverage. Once you got them wrapped around him, he easily hoisted you up and crushed you against the metal. That knot of fury had morphed into one of enraged need and every fervent contact was not enough to satisfy. You started clawing at him in a desperate attempt to quell the feeling.

In one swift move, he broke the kiss and threw his head back so it crushed your fingers. He then tipped forward incrementally with a punctuated glare.

You flexed your stinging digits and returned the gaze twofold.

“Now you’re quiet.” He snipped, bringing a knee up to balance you.

You pressed down hard on your lips to keep from responding. Instead you watched as he freed up his hands and undid his vest. He shrugged the armor off and crowded you.

“Better?”

“I could take it or leave it.”

He growled as he captured your lips again. Free from its halter, you grabbed at his shirt again and bunched the material up. When he leaned down, you assumed it was to pull the fabric off. You followed through with the motion, but when he arose he was both shirtless and your own vest dangled on your shoulders until he made a show of flicking its last toe hold off. 

“Stupid nimble fingers.” You ground out.

He chuckled into your ear as he bit down on the lobe. You gasped and ran your nails along his newly exposed flesh. His lips trailed scorching kisses down your neck and you were about to plot your next move when he nosed the collar of your shirt. Pausing at the sensation, your muscles contracted as his tongue languidly trailed flat across your jugular and back up to your ear. You hadn’t realized the moan had left your lips until the tail end of it reached your ears. Emboldened by it, he dipped down again, this time taking the scruff of the fabric by his teeth. You were about to inquire about the move when his hands left you. You craned your neck to catch a glimpse, but only the sound of a clean slice through taunt fabric followed.

“H-hey!” You barked as the fabric around your torso loosened.

He surfaced only long enough to show you his pupils were blown wide with lust.

Partially stunned by the glance, you shivered at the sensation of the fabric being peeled from your body. You hadn’t realized how sweaty you had gotten until that exact moment. The stagnant air didn’t do much to cool you as Donatello seared hickies and bites into as much of your skin as he could get his mouth on. Rapidly losing ground, the moment your arm muscles even twitched, he had your wrists pinned. You whined in frustration until your bra slipped off your shoulders and slid down until it was trapped around your waist.

“You-!” Was all you could get out before your words were strangled by his teeth biting into your left breast.

Left without much to do, you uselessly bucked your hips, but found with him bent over laving at your chest meant his were arched away. You wanted to scream, but again the sound was squashed as he turned his attention to your other breast. Whimpering, you squirmed and in doing so writhed until of his hands loosened their grip. You snapped it free and heard the wet pop of him extracting his mouth from your body. Moving out of pure spite, you pinched the top of his bandana and pulled it clean off his head. Holding the fabric high and away, you glanced down at him victorious, but found a partially annoyed expression instead.

“Your…” You looked up at the fabric and ran a thumb over the drawn on black lines. “You-!” The elation in your voice was turned into a small scream as you were jerked from him and spun around. Jarring under having your weight on your legs once again, you wobbled as one of his hands traced down your sternum and straight to your pants line. Your head lolled back onto his shoulder and he placed nippy pecks along your jaw. His other hand massaged at one of your shoulders and under the guise of kneading flesh, he guided you into arching your back. His body slotted heavily against yours and he undid your belt with one hand. A faraway thought cursed his nimble fingers again, but it never reached your lips.

In another set of deft moves, your fly was down and his fingers slid down into your heat. You fumed at a hitch in his movements, knowing he was taking into account how wet you were. You could feel that smug smile on his lips as he pressed them into the small cut on your shoulder. It took until his the tip of his finger coaxed your clit that you realized he’d left your arms free. You brought them up and groped at the back of his head for leverage. He sped up the digit and in turn you ground you ass back into his hips. He gave an appreciative snarl and pushed forward until his fingers slipped into your folds and his thumb took steering duty.

You nearly thrashed at the sensation, but his free hand kept you pinned as he massaged at any available skin. Shifting automatically, you squatted down in an attempt to open up for him. It made your cheeks burn more than the stifling heat. For once, he didn’t take the time to humiliate you and instead rewarded you by finally slipping a rugged digit inside. The moans escaped you in time as he finger fucked you. His arm jerked rapidly and the sloppy sounds would have been mortifying if you had the mental capacity to acknowledge them. Amongst the onslaught, your underwear and pants relinquished their hold on your hips and your voice peaked. In a repeated mantra your mind narrowed in on your eminent release. With the crest rapidly approached, you limped back into him to finish you off. As soon as you did, he all but disappeared.

A strangled yell ripped from your throat in anger as gravity tugged you down. Rotating an arm, Donatello hooked you around your waist. You dangled limply from the move as you grappled to get your body to obey.

“What…” You panted, anger bubbling up over the arousal and winning out. “What the fuck!?”

He didn’t respond and actively kept you from getting a glimpse of him.

The fury manifested into flailing and soon you were on your feet. You pummeled his arm the best you could even though you knew he was still holding you in case you weren’t ready to take weight on your stems. When your feet were confidently planted, he retreated. You immediately attempted to chase the limb back to its infernal owner. Instead your vision blacked out for a moment when your vest suddenly dropped down around you.

“What-!” You protested as best you could, but his speed and strength soon had your arms slotted through their correct holds. “Is-!” You tried to kick out your feet, but your pants were still pooled around your ankles. “Wrong-!” The side straps tightened so rapidly it almost knocked the air out of you. “With-!” He gave your shoulder straps a final testing tug and then, once again, you were left to your own devices. You heard the telltale thud of a belt hitting the ground. “You!?” You spun around and were met with a carnal gaze. You knew how you must look; clad in almost nothing but the vest and desire leaking down your leg. He was admiring his work.

“Asshole.” You breathed near silently, but it still brought a smile to his lips. Amongst a blink, he was on you and then out of sight as you were spun back towards the container wall. You had another biting remark on your tongue when his hand slipped through the back strap of your vest and you were off your feet. Your hands flew out useless and smacked against the metal with a resounding gong. You waited for your hips to swing forward, but his arm hooked around them. He then shifted you until you were horizontal with the ground.

“Donatello?” You despised how meek your voice sounded.

With one arm threaded through your vest and the other around your hips, you felt like you were being brandished like a Minigun. Degrading didn’t even come close to enough word for how it felt.

“Another game…” His voice sounded thick and he seemed to be struggling to form words. “I’m going to fuck you.”

It was such a obvious point that you wanted to scream about it, but instead your lips continued to betray you. “No-”

“Not like this?” He questioned, his voice like syrup. Adjusting your hips, you felt his scorching tip line up with your core.

With one hand pressed flat for a modicum of leverage against the wall, your other flew back and caught his limb at your waist.

“Try to resist me.” He ordered and a mewl slipped out as his cock began to press in.

Your fingers encircled his forearm.

“I’ll go in little by little.”

You felt yourself being incrementally split by him.

“If you say so or push me back even the slightest bit, I’ll stop.”

You opened your mouth to protest but only a loud moan escaped.

“Go on…” Even amongst the desire, he managed a teasing note.

It brought indignant tears to your eyes. Torn between humiliation and yearning for him to fill you, they trickled down your cheeks.

He seemed to just keep going.

You cried out at the tenuous pace.

“Almost…”

“Please-!” You managed, but its inflection was completely wrong.

You’d begged him.

He still drug out the process at the same speed until you could only tell he was completely sheathed inside when his plastron bit into your ass cheeks.

For what seemed like a long moment, he stayed there with the only sound being your panting against his agonizing length. You weren’t sure if he was letting you adjust, but just as the fringes of your mind returned, he pulled back and rocked into you in one sharp buck. You screamed out as he continued the pace in excruciating rhythm. At first you helplessly cried out with each stroke, but the sound echoing off the metal brought one of your hands back to cover your mouth. He slowed as soon as you did and poured himself over you.

“Don’t worry, you can enjoy this to your heart’s content. No one else is around.” He adjusted his stance and you seized as he twitched inside you.

“Almost…” You gasped. “… like… you… planned… this…”

“And you called me paranoid.” There was an edge to his voice.

Even with all your neurons firing wildly, it brought back something you’d made note of. “That’s… what touched… a nerve!?”

You incredulous tone hit another because he pointedly began fucking into your g-spot. It left you a howling mess. The arm around your waist shifted until he could reach your clit and as soon as it made contact your voice hit a high you hadn’t know was possible. Keeping a brutal pace, he thrust into you until the edges of your vision began to black out. Your voice stopped reaching your ears. Distant breathy gasps were all around you and the slick from both your sweats commingled into one continuous fluid. You crest rushed in with the speed of a roaring wave and the shift in his pace said he also knew it was coming. With the last shreds of your sanity, you mental beseeched him to not edge you out again. You weren’t able to be pleasantly surprised when the orgasm hit because it mangled any coherent thought.

Lolling back, it felt like par for the course when gravity seemed to rotate around you. Your vision faded to fuzzy snippets. When you came too, you found you were sitting reverse cowgirl. Staring up at the faint lip of the container, your lips were parted and you quickly closed them as drool threatened to leak out. You weakly siphoned as much oxygen as you could when a heated blast shot up in your belly. You choked on a groan as he pulsated inside you. The little tinge after thrusts felt like a rocking boat and only his hands around your waist kept you upright.

Dizzy, you leaned forward and the uncomfortable fabric of the vest made itself known by chaffing your nipples. You were about to try to put that into words when you watched one of his hands snake up and unclip your vest. You dumbly marveled at his ability to read minds as he undid the straps and pulled the piece from you. You craned your head over your shoulder the best you could to get a look at him. You couldn’t really see him, but he seemed to be struggling with something.  

It elicited a small chuckle from you.

“Something funny?” His voice was hoarse.

You shook your head and he sat up. It caused you to clench around him and your eyes widened as you realized he was still semi-hard.

You made a noise of surprise and he seared a kiss into your injured shoulder. You wilted under it and an arm snaked around your front. You watched it curiously and in your weakened state you didn’t notice when its partner joined. The first hand curled under your chin and a thumb slid up over your bottom lip coaxing your mouth open. Tipsy, you allowed it and the second hand popped something into your mouth. A protest immediately wormed its way up your throat, but his hand snapped your mouth shut.

“Calcium Carbonate.” He said as if that answered everything. “I need you to stay conscious.” One of his hands disappeared before quickly returning with a canteen. Your arms didn’t seem to obey and he helped you drink down the cool liquid. 

Blinking, you came to a realization; you were going to have sex again.

Trailing more kisses along your upper back, you whimpered as he tipped you over into the grass without ever pulling out. Now on your side, you turned to say something when his mouth slotted over yours. Whether it had been a protest or an affirmation, the kiss stole away the memory. He didn’t start pounding right away, but instead shallowly rocked against you while coaxing your knees up to give him better access. It helped ease you out of your previous orgasm, while building up a foundation for the next. As soon as you found some strength to fight back against his tongue, his hands moved to tease your breasts. You moaned into his mouth and in return his cock plunged deeper into you. You weren’t sure how he did it, but without breaking stride, he somehow maneuvered you onto your back and moved one of your legs out of the way to fuck you missionary.

Coiled around one another, you both confined to protest against the tenderness of the position. You clawed at the back of his head and he left new sets of bite marks along your collarbone. Each kiss was a renewed contest of dominance and even though you were beyond overstimulated, you’d routinely rock into his hips which earned a hiccup in his labored breath every single time. With both your second orgasms in eminent collision, he broke away from your lips and curled his head into the crook of your neck. It might have been the position you were in, but you were overcome by affection. Lifting your nails away, you cradled his head to you with one hand and flatly palmed the spot between his shoulder blades with the other. His thrusts became more erratic and some words found their way into your mouth.

“Come for me.”

He obeyed and between the scalding spurts of cum you felt yourself unravel once again. What followed was discordant breathing and limp collapse. Slowly, he eventually peeled his body off of yours and you nearly gagged at the sweaty plastic wrap sensation of it all. He didn’t make it far and propped his head up as he lay beside you. You continued to lay on your back and stared up as you counted your still quickened heartbeat. Eventually, the exhaustion and omnipresent heat pulled your head to the side and you looked at him. His lids were low, but the fondness there was palpable.

“Going soft on me?” You asked, your hand drunkenly reaching for him. He caught it with his free one and held it close to his chest.

“Technically...?” He mustered a small grin.

You groaned and closed your eyes.

“Since I’ve already put you off, may I add to it?”

“Why not?” You retorted dryly, though there was an upward tugging at the corners of your lips.

“There will never be a good time at this point so here goes: I never did get your name.”

Your eyes snapped out in righteous fury.  

💜 If you liked what you read, consider a follow as I’m doing a one-shot giveaway if I hit 1000 followers 💜

[venomous-ragno]

I've posted these before but Tumblr's tag system is buggy so it's not showing up for ppl, which is a shame cause if this dynamic rots my brain y'all have to suffer with me

Ghost x reader x Soap headcannons

I take requests btw;)

Tags: Ghost x reader x Soap, sfw, gn!reader, fluff

Warnings: None

Gif by @collinnmckinley

• Brothers in arms, these two have developed a bond that goes deeper than that of just any comrades. They work like a machine, gears oiled and intertwined, always moving forward and further into unknown territory.

• Ghost and Soap aren't romantically involved, but they don't mind it if it's the other. Both know and respect the other's boundaries; Gaz once called them psychics for understanding each other without so much as words exchanged.

• Their lives are anything but conventional so why shouldn't their relationship be too? It's a strange idea, sure. Much to your surprise though neither seemed taken aback or even shocked at the suggestion - not in the slightest, for they agree on more things than they disagree on.

• If you ever go on a mission with them and the team gets split up, both Ghost and Soap would find solace in knowing you're with the other, that you're well protected even in the face of death.

• Ghost and Soap are two different types of love; Ghost is more of a calm, quiet lover. No big words or pda but rather small acts of service and quality time. Ghost remembers all your quirks, all your likes and dislikes by heart. He prides himself in knowing you better than anyone else, reads you like an open book, and slowly... Opens up in and about himself, too.

• Soap is loud, if not a bit boastful. He doesn't mind calling you sweet nicknames, throwing a flirty line or two over comms. His love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch, and he isn't shy about giving nor receiving. He's quite sensitive to personal space and highly receptive of your emotional state.

• You know that Ghost has a hard time conveying his thoughts and feelings. Hell, he can't even decipher them himself most of he time. Comes with the life he agreed on living, doesn't make it any more frustrating when he refuses to elaborate on decisions he's made.

• Soap understands you both. He's had his fair share of troubles with the stoic Lt, and thus acts as a mediator. He jokingly calls himself the "peacekeeper of the 141", taking the deadly stares from both of you with stride.

• Ghost and Soap often share late night talks. It's an intimate moment between these two on an emotional level: Let the stars be witness to their hopes and dreams, their frustrations and fears, let their heart get lighter until the sun shines on them and reminds them of the hardships daylight brings.

• It's nights like those where Soap nudges Ghost in the right direction when it comes to you. Gentle but stern pushes towards an apology, in whichever form it may come in, Ghost's words carry nothing but candour. Be patient and he'll do his best to learn.

• "Live as if you're dead", they say, but how can one not feel alive when you love pulses hot through their veins? They should know better. They should know better than to let themselves fall for you like so and yet they're utterly powerless, for no knife may cut that damned red string.

Bonus:

Price raises a brow at whatever you three got going on, but chooses to remain ignorant as long as it doesn't affect work. If anything, he finds amusement in it; how the three of you bicker back and forth, how your dynamic confuses everyone not sharp enough to catch on. Besides, he's won quite a few bucks over drunken bets with Gaz - and he gets to see Simon more often too, rather than Ghost. A bonus if anything.

[antikate]

I respect everyone who is looking forward to a very soft and loving resolution to the romantic arc of good omens s3 (god willing and the creek don’t rise)

I also want some soft and loving! Eventually

However I am built different and I want maximum suffering before we get to the soft and loving bit.

Things I want in no particular order:

Crowley to rebuff Aziraphale at least twice

Aziraphale to have the wool pulled from his eyes re Heaven being unchanged in the most painful way and it’s just excruciating and delicious

Aziraphale to spy on Crowley and see that he’s apparently fine (he’s not fine)

Crowley also somehow sees Aziraphale being fine (he’s not fine)

Crowley makes a friend and Aziraphale is intensely incredibly unhingedly jealous

Aziraphale having to do a serious grovel re “come to heaven” (which I expect will involve the apology dance though i have mixed feelings about that scene due to my own issues re the goof to not goof ratio of my media entertainment diet)

Crowley telling some random human about how Aziraphale broke him after so long and the human gets more and more indignant on Crowley’s behalf but then Crowley does that thing that everyone does when they’re going through a breakup and starts defending Aziraphale against the indignant human’s accusations and has a moment where he understands Aziraphale’s motivations much better than he did before

A scene where Crowley definitely has to make the choice to save Aziraphale and he wavers! I want him to waver! But then he chooses Aziraphale not because of the old patterns but because he loves him

Angry bang that turns incredibly soft and loving

Aziraphale to renounce heaven in the most dramatic bitch way possible but then Crowley is like it’s too late except it isn’t too late!!!

A scene where Aziraphale says something along the lines of “I know you are a demon and I love you. It’s not that I love you anyway. I love you. It’s not that I love you despite it all. I love you. It’s not that I think that deep down you’re good and that’s why I love you. I love you exactly as you are.”

Oh yeah it’s aAziraphale’s turn to think Crowley is dead probably because of some dramatic af sacrifice that saves humanity and the earth. SOBBING!!!

Definitely someone asks them how long they’ve been a couple and they look at each other and say “since the beginning” or something so so so sappy your brain starts to leak from your ears.

And it ends in a garden. It ends. In a garden. Romantic violins

[mynameisnotsoda]

Explaining my entire dsmpsona playlist because I can

P.s. every mention of Soda in this post isn't me, i just dont feel like putting c! In front of it every single time LMAO

Also i dont think i ever posted the ref on tumblr!!?!??! Criminal but putting it here is better methinks

I also put this in my studentbur playlist, which feels fitting for both of them. However for Adam its more metaphorical whereas with Soda its more literal.

I have my own shapeshifter lore that's loitering in my brain that i need to write down eventually BUT the basics are essentially that shapeshifters are "born" from the planet. They CAN come from other shapeshifters but only once and most choose not to have a bio kid.

So basically, Soda literally popped out of the ground one day, was found by Sapnap and then adopted by Bad and Skeppy. Soda was maybe physically 9/10 years old and was so curious about the world and excited to experience life. If any creature could possibly be made of pure love, its them.

Growing up Soda got REALLY attached to Bad, they clung onto him a lot and it was to the point where it was probably unhealthy. Of course Bad noticed, which made him actually set some boundaries despite not really wanting to. Skeppy was able to convince him, though, as when it comes to the kids hes the voice of reason.

So, Bad would start off by telling Soda that he was going to be gone, leading up to him just disappearing for maybe a few hours at a time before eventually coming back. Eventually Soda was able to function without Bad, but that ended up backfiring as they just latched onto Sapnap instead.

With Soda's attachment to their brother, they tagged along with him when he went out fairly often but after being weened off of Bad it became more frequent. Soda and Sapnap were practically attached at the hip, regardless of Sapnap's protesting.

With a group of teenagers they were obviously doing some reckless, stupid shit and Soda was just along for the ride! At first Dream and George hated Soda—they were just Sapnap's annoying younger sibling—but eventually they got used to Soda being around. Especially since they may have persuaded Soda to use their shapeshifting for nefarious purposes.

At first everyone found Soda adorable, their cheery optimism, endless energy and amusing naivety was a part of their charm. But then it became...obnoxious.

Sapnap always had a short temper, he tried his best to handle it, but sometimes he'd just snap at Soda when they became too much of a handful. He was always quick to apologize but it affected Soda deeply.

Soda very much struggled with any sort of negative emotions, when they felt it—it hit them hard. One day, it was enough to send them spiraling, having a panic attack alone in their room. This was also the first time memories of their past lives resurfaced. At first it was rather intriguing, though a jumpscare, but then it just got worse.

It seemed like Soda's lives were always filled with turmoil and a constant feeling of dread. The stronger their emotions became the more fragments of memories would appear. Soda didn't tell anyone about this.

Skipping much further ahead, Soda obviously sided with the Dteam during the revolution. They were family, in Soda's eyes at least. Which made it incredibly easy for Dream to use that to his advantage. He used them in every way that he could to win the war, even going as far as to try and make Soda resent Tommy and Tubbo. Soda was a spy, mostly, turning into a cat to effortlessly infiltrate the enemy. They heard and saw everything, but part of them felt bad for it, so they never told Dream everything. He noticed.

The horrors of being a child soldier.

Dream's obsession with power and control was never obvious, not to his friends and certainly not to Soda. They truly believed he had good intentions despite going to war with Wilbur. Then again, Soda doesn't understand what war really is. But the pressure to keep up with Dream's demands and avaid his increasing irritably became exhausting and overwhelming. Yet Soda believed it was their fault.

Tubbo and Tommy weren't safe from the horrors either, they had that much in common with Soda. The three of them went through hell, basically.

Dream.

Aaaand tumblr wont let me add more songs so im cutting this into parts through reblogs. I'll probably continue this later (bc its almost 2am pFF) and might post the second part before i go to sleep like im doing now :P

I am cringe but I am free

[dykrophone]

you know what it's 1:30am and quite literally no one cares but idk. the tags on my last post reminded me and I feel like rambling about something no one cares about and that's why I have a tumblr so why tf not lol

izzie taylor taught me that i could love.

ironic because the first person I ever loved fucking hates her guts and thinks she's toxic af lol. but cazzie meant the fucking world to me as a baby sapphic, not just because they were one of my first sapphic ships ever but because of how fucking relatable they were. they were messy ass teenagers and their chemistry felt so real. and fivel stewart (along with deepika padukone) is my #1 celeb crush of all time but Not The Point lmao.

like idk how to explain it because I'm obviously a much more stable person now than I was when I first got into the ship but the thing I love so much about izzie is how hard she tries to get fucking better. and how she apologizes and communicates when she fucks up no matter what. because the thing is she Does fuck up. a Lot. girlie has trauma and issues the size of jupiter and she has mood swings and bouts of shame and her "brain just betrays [her] sometimes" and she doesn't know how to handle it. she doesn't trust herself because she doesn't feel things consistently. and god did seeing her work her ass off to become a better person and get over her self-destructive tendencies to maintain a healthy relationship mean the world to 14 year old me. it kind of snapped me out of my self-hating cynical world view and gave me so much hope honestly. because back then I genuinely didn't believe I was capable of maintaining a healthy long term relationship (of any kind, not specifically romantic). I thought I would inevitably end up hurting everyone and the kindest option was to isolate myself forever. but the thing is. people need people to get better. sometimes you need to let people in. and izzie showed me that as long as I didn't stop trying and made sure to communicate openly and honestly no matter what, I could love people and be there for them too. and progress isn't linear. izzie does regress and fuck up over and over, but the thing is she LEARNS from her mistakes. she gets over herself and apologizes and does her best to make up for it. and she gets more stable with time, just like I did. it's not easy to realize your agency when you struggle with depression or ocd or bpd or whatever. but you do have agency. you just. have to keep trying. no matter how many times you fall on your face and fuck up. izzie showed me that it's worth trying, because you do get better. which is why she'll always be one of the characters closest to my heart. (and the ship. fucking ship of all time.)

anyway. here's my trying to be better as a fucked up mentally ill teenager playlist inspired by the one and only izzie taylor <3

and the companion casey-inspired playlist of loving someone who can and does hurt you because they're struggling with mental illness because you know they're trying and getting better and that they're worth it <3 (sidenote i could go On about the casey side of things forever too but. that's for another time lol. you don't have to put up with shit just because the other person is going through stuff that's not what I'm saying. it's more nuanced than that and I love how casey set boundaries for herself re: that buuuuuut i digress)

[blepxiee]

Hi. It’s been a while and I deeply apologize

Okay so mini comic to demonstrate what just happen to me when I checked tumblr after… I don’t know how long it’s been-

I’m not going to get into much of what happened while I was gone. My mental health was slipping ever so slowly, on top of that I got sick towards the end so that kicked my ass- That’s the gist of it.

Typically when I go on little breaks I neglect to make a post about me taking a break or anything. This is because I feel like feel like I’d just be letting someone down for lack of better words. Even at the point of writing this my hands are shaking and I can’t think straight. The main reason I even took the break to begin with was to calm down, I had a lot on my mind at the moment and tumblr just added to that 10 fold.

For the record most of it wasn’t with anything anyone did. It’s all just my brain and the fact that since I wasn’t used to tumblr still I felt out of place. Even though I knew this wasn’t true and you all are amazing people I just didn’t want to continue while knowing I couldn’t preform at my best. I felt like if I couldn’t give you all the best than nothing was going to be good enough. (Couldn’t imagine being a perfectionist/sarc)

Anyways, I’m also terribly sorry I had absolutely zero idea that so many people would worry about where I went or if I was okay. The guilt of also not answering those makes me feel worse. It was a bitter sweet feeling to see the worried messages it felt nice to know people worry and care, but it was anxiety inducing to know that you all are worrying about where I am while I’m just drawing in my room to relieve stress.

I LOVE this community and the people here, I’ve always loved talking to people and making new friends. However social anxiety is a bitch and I sadly still get in my own head about it. I’m too hard on myself and I feel like that’s what happens with a lot of people and not just me. So a little message to people who can relate

ENJOY YOURSELF!!!

Doing stuff like this is supposed to be FUN for you and hopefully everyone else that interacts with you and whatever you create. Doing this is my fun and what I really need to work on is reminding myself that it’s just that. Fun. Not a 100 page essay that needs to be perfected and reviewed twenty times over. I’m not saying that I’ll stop trying, just that I won’t be so hard on myself for my mistakes and trust that you all will be okay with that and the fact I will make many mistakes. If there’s mistakes in this writing that I probably didn’t see I won’t be surprised.

Anywizzle, that was that. This is also NOT me officially saying I will be very active. I’m about to go on an 4 day trip so interactions will still be sparse, I’ll make an official post when I return. Also no one has to feel bad for sending messages asking if I was okay, I overall thank you guys for that so so much. I am still very sorry though for not interacting for a while, also PLEASE CATCH ME UP- I assume stuff went down since I went completely MIA from tumblr so if you want you can just briefly tell me what I need to catch up on. With that, thanks for reading and happy scrolling!

….Also happy pride!!

[problemnyatic]

What's moral OCD? Where does it typically come from?

I am really not an expert on these particular particulars and definitely not a psychologist really even in hobby. The vague nutshell of what moral OCD is, at least the way i understand it, is when the subject of one's OCD is largely centered around "being a good person," wherein the idea of hurting anyone or doing something that's "wrong" in a moral sense is Apocalypse Incarnate.

The intrusive thoughts they have center around "what if you accidentally do something bigoted or abusive or manipulative, you'd be the most horrible person to ever do it" and such. As far as I can tell, it comes from trauma, I'd suspect being repeatedly overpunished for minor or even fabricated errors or faux pas, made to believe that making someone else so much as uncomfortable is as good as a permanent stain upon your person that can never really be escaped, only met with enough shame and guilt such that we can be certain you're not secretly a Proud Abusive Bigot.

As you can imagine, this is complete bullshit and not how the world works, and also tumblr/twitter/tiktok is fucking rife with this kind of bullshit running rampant, everyone dead set on instilling this way of thinking into anyone they can sucker into it. Fear and outrage Do Numbers, unfortunately :/

And for anyone with this kind of thing rattling around in their brain, some detox: Mistakes are the most normal possible thing, and that means mistakes that result in harm. You're gonna hurt people sometimes, what matters is owning it and letting the hurt be about them, not your feelings about causing it. You can seek support for those feelings from other folks, and that's a good thing even. It's okay to let your rough edges show. Just apologize (not grovel, just an apology will do I promise) and try to do better in the future, and you've got the important part in the bag: how you respond to the situation.

And to cap things off: I am not a psychologist and I certainly am no authority on the subject, just some broke tranny who's been on the internet for way too long and spent too much time thinking about this stuff. This is my take on it and more or less what's on my mind when I talk about "moral OCD"

[curious-l1ght]

Took a break bc I had a short lived panic attack and calmed myself down so it wouldn't worsen but I'm back with a message for Ivorii

THIS IS REALLY LONG

Leave me the fuck alone. I don't understand why targeting me and thinking you can just apologise is something you can do. I'm literally scared of you after you targeted me. Just so you know, I BARELY GET SCARED OF PEOPLE!!!

And the fact that you are the reason that I'm hurting myself is a fact that I REALLY need you to know. You KNOW I was suicidal at one point, YOU KNOW YOU MOTHERFUCKER.

Getting that message was why I had a panic attack. AND I WILL FUCKING LEAK IT. HERE YOU GO

Tldr is at the bottom

Ivorii:

Okay, look. I fucked up, I know I did. I lied, and I was, so wrong for it. But, about my heart problems, they are hereditary, but my heart problems are not like yours, I didn't have to get cut open. It wasn't an open heart surgery like yours, it was originally going to be put in from my wrist/groin area, but it was changed to my esophagus area due to it being more "uphill". I know I caused you hell and that I probably scared the living shit out of you.

It wasn't right of me, at all. I feel bad about it everyday. I shouldn't have lied either, and I don't wish harm against anyone. I never did and I never will. I was a bad influence and a bad person, but I'm working to change. I know messing with any of you guys was the worst thing I could've done, and I feel so bad about it! If I had a second chance to go back and undo it, I would. I promise that I'm not a bad person, or a liar. I just didn't to get the attention I wanted, and I very immature when did it. I have remorse for everyone I hurt, and this isn't the first time I hurt someone(s) like this. But I have bigger apology to give out to you guys [Kris, Izzy, Candied] because you guys are minors, and you look up to those older than you, and I was the complete opposite. I probably know you won't see this and that you'll never trust me again, and it's understandable. I wouldn't trust myself either, but I'm working on being better, and trying to change. It's lonely without you guys, and I hate it. I hate every moment of it, and I hate that I did what I did. I hate not being there when you guys joke, or to celebrate holidays. I really want a second chance, only if you'll allow it. I'm so sorry for making you hurt, I'm really am a better person than this, I swear! I can try again, only if you'll let me. I acknowledge my wrong-doing, like an adult. I'm turning 20 this year and I'm acting like it. Just please don't tell Warden or the others that I'm here! I'm still very scared of them, and when I'm ready, I'll talk to them, but I just needed you to know.

I'm not a person, and I'll never make a foolish mistake like this again. Also, to clarify about my heart problems, but also apologize while I'm at it. I hurt you, and I never want you to feel a pain like that again. Just know I regret everything. I swear. You don't have to respond, I just needed to get that off of my shoulders, and hopefully off of yours too.

My response:

You targeted a minor, someone who just got tumblr a few months ago, and pretended to be someone else. I wanted to stay as far away from this stituation as far I possibly could but you pulled me into it. I'm actually fucking terrified of you now. You broke everyone's trust and ruined your reputation. You have caused me to hurt myself because I wanted a distraction from this and wanted to deal with a different type of pain. Targeting minors because you'd think they are more naive or whatever the fuck went through your rotting brain is downright wrong and its manipulation. Leave tumblr and never come back. Fuck you.

--------------

Taking it apart to respond better:

Okay, look. I fucked up, I know I did. I lied, and I was, so wrong for it.

You're damn right. You fucked up big time, and everybody knows that.

I know I caused you hell and that I probably scared the living shit out of you.

Yes, you really did. You scared me so bad I'm properly scared of you as a person.

It wasn't right of me, at all. I feel bad about it everyday. I shouldn't have lied either, and I don't wish harm against anyone.

Then why did you do this? Oh, right, ATTENTION.

I know messing with any of you guys was the worst thing I could've done, and I feel so bad about it!

Think before you act, fucker.

I promise that I'm not a bad person, or a liar. I just didn't to get the attention I wanted, and I very immature when did it.

Hard to believe you're turning 20.

But I have bigger apology to give out to you guys [Kris, Izzy, Candied] because you guys are minors, and you look up to those older than you, and I was the complete opposite.

You targeted minors. Think about that and get it through your thick ass skull.

I probably know you won't see this and that you'll never trust me again, and it's understandable. I wouldn't trust myself either, but I'm working on being better, and trying to change. It's lonely without you guys, and I hate it.

Yeah, I don't trust you at all anymore. Nobody does. And you're gonna have to deal with being lonely because of that.

I really want a second chance, only if you'll allow it. I'm so sorry for making you hurt, I'm really am a better person than this, I swear! I can try again, only if you'll let me. I acknowledge my wrong-doing, like an adult. I'm turning 20 this year and I'm acting like it.

Who is gonna give you a second chance? Are you really a better person? You act like a fucking 6 year old with your shitty lies and the fact that you constantly return and try to reconnect when we clearly don't want you around.

Just please don't tell Warden or the others that I'm here! I'm still very scared of them, and when I'm ready, I'll talk to them, but I just needed you to know.

WHAT THE FUCK?! DONT TELL THE PEOPLE WHO I ACTUALLY TRUST AND ARE ABLE TO HANDLE THIS BETTER THAN ME??? YOU SHOULD BE SCARED OF THEM BECAUSE EVERY TIME YOU RETURN THEY KNOW OR I WILL TELL THEM BECAUSE NOBODY, AND I REPEAT, NOBODY, WANTS YOU HERE YOU SICK FUCK!

I'm not a person, and I'll never make a foolish mistake like this again. Also, to clarify about my heart problems, but also apologize while I'm at it. I hurt you, and I never want you to feel a pain like that again. Just know I regret everything. I swear. You don't have to respond, I just needed to get that off of my shoulders, and hopefully off of yours too.

"I'm not a person" this typo is fucking hilarious. You didn't clarify anything about your heart problems in this last paragraph. You hurt everyone. This made the weight on my shoulders worse.

Sorry, the tldr was still really long ;-;

[strawberrydracos]

Playing Ace Combat 7

Started playing the game today! I'll go little by little and updating this post through reblogs sksksksks

@technoblade-apologist-and-proud this is for you buddy, since you asked :] Starting with Mission 1 and 2 today

(Putting stuff on read more bc I get a little self concious of long posts)

First impressions of the game upon opening it: Menu music is beautiful "Wow this is so. Graphic design. Wow." upon seeing the actual menus "Why do we have cowboy music on the cutscene?" Girl talking about loving the color of the sky instantly made me remember the damn "Don't you love the color of the sky? / Which one?" classic tumblr post. "That plane looks like a tesla" upon seeing the drone in the cutscene Started laughing for a whole minute when rave music started playing in the plane selection screen before the mission.

Right out of the bat we start Mission 1 with DEATH from controller. I didn't know what to press and the screen only told me about R2 to accelerate so I killed myself by crashing on the end of the take off thingie. This was a warning to what was about to come.

I need to publicly apologize to every Ace Combat fan that has ever lived because inverted controls make me feel insane so I had to "invert" them back to normal. I am very sorry. I have failed you all. Don't look at me.

Anyways, first mission went TERRIBLY. WHO have me a license. I was DRUNK driving in the skies. Absolutely dogshit piloting skills. I didn't know it did a neat little replay of the mission at the end + the replay with the tiny lowpoly planes. Humiliating. Everyone was flying to neatly and I looked like I was using my plane for a ribbon dance.

As someone that played Drakengard on the ps2 and Armored Core on the ps4: Piloting a plane is much more similar to riding a dragon than piloting a mech.

There's a lot going on in the cutscenes, the story seems cool and I have an idea of it already but by god they just feel so goofy sometimes, very silly, I am very lost.

Second mission started terribly as well, I still fly like I'm drunk, I died at least 5 times because I turned a little too much and crashed on the ground. At some point when I was managing to stay alive I thought I was gonna fail from the time running out because I just couldn't hit the targets.

Also. Did you know? In Armored Core you press X, Square and O for boosting and movement, and L1/L2 R1/R2 for your weapons. Ace Combat is the opposite. I've been playing Armored Core for a month already. My brain is having a hard time trying to grasp the controllers, somebody help me.

Second half of this mission went better than the first half bc I *am* learning but by god. I died once because I hit the ground again, I keep doing it, my pilot craves the safety of the ground. It was a nightmare trying to get to the targets to properly hit them but I did manage to do it.

All and all? Game is pretty fun! It will be a challenge to actually learn how to play, specially with expert controls, but that's the fun of every game, learning and mastering!

Had to stop for today but I'll reblog this once I play more :]

[stevebabey]

You don't have to answer this I'm just gonna bitch in your inbox about the x reader post you made because I felt this in my bones.

Like you really can't go in the tag for quality stuff lately. Everything is about sex. I'm not a prude. I read occasionally stuff, but omg, not everything has to be like this. Sometimes stories begin hopeful, but they end the same way. I'm just sick of it because it's all there is. And because it's so oversaturated, "normal" fics don't stand a chance because people don't click on that anymore. So yeah, as a creator, if I wanna get attention for my work, of course, I will produce stuff that people will read.

Also what you said about minors, how are they supposed to interact with fics if everything is porn.

In general, people are sooo fixated on "spicy" content. On tiktok, all people read is smut, or they can't handle other stuff. Literally, smut destroyed their brains. How is it any different than guys having a porn addiction?

Also, the tumblr tagging and searching functions are shit. I wanna find new fics from like 2020 or 2021 (before s4 bc I miss those vibes). When you go to the popular tag thing, the earliest you get is 2022. Like tumblr needs to fix that, so content from years ago can still be found. People also need to start tagging accordingly. It's such a pain.

Again sorry for the rant.

HOHOHOHOHO NO APOLOGIES NEEDED NONNIE i love having a bitch and being on my hater shit and i think more people than you might think agree with all of this + its a whole buncha opinions under the cut u have been warned

to some degree to decrease in quality fics will be due to the lull between seasons which always happens- some of the fantastic writers move onto other obsessions for the mean time and truly, i can't fault them for that.

but yet somehow i know it's more than just that - a smut piece will get more attention and notes regardless of the quality of the fic. it's so tough to complain about cos like sigh its all free writing produced by someone so to moan and bitch about stuff getting more attention than others is like. not very nice and being hypercritical but also

not everyone wants to read smut!! and its fuckin everywhere!! wouldn't it be darling if there could simply be a tag that was smut free but noooooo every post gets tagged with as many fuckin things as possible for 'reach' which is the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard before

and ur absolutely right, because of it fics with no smut get drowned before they get a chance to get noticed. and sorry to say it, but its very rarely that i've read a fluff piece and been like ah, that seemed like it was just thrown together like no its always crafted to some degree- but i cannot say the same for smut in the least. again, often u can mentally sub in different characters and the fic still works which to me = bad writing (if its a steve fic i shouldn't be able to slot in eddie and have it work? ok cos then its not a STEVE fic its just a porn fantasy which is like fine but GOD this is a whole nother can of worms but if u just write smut and then cycle thru joe keery characters its like half a step from writing rpf cos its obvious u just think he's a hot guy and not so much into his characters 😭 maybe im being autistic levels of protective over my lil guy but i also think im right lmao)

and ough trying to write for an audience is so hard, its a vicious cycle of: wants to produce content ppl will read and interact with -> doesn't enjoy writing it as much -> writing isn't as good as u know it could be -> if it flops for whatever reason u feel like asshole. anon babey please dear god write the ideas you want to <3 i can promise you they will be 100x better than trying to cater to an invisible audience ! ppl follow you for your writing !!! and feel free to tag me!!!! i always want to read good steve x reader fics!!! (i just can't be assed hunting them down half the time)

the minors thing is just. god its - i remember hearing the phrase 'virgins write the best smut' and it was when i was 14 and now im like god don't say that they write like porn cos they have fuck all idea what they're talking about. i read so much fanfic when i was 12 years old and what u said is so true, it just used to sneak up in stories and ruin things. its the internet tho so its impossible to truly moderate

omg ur tiktok comment so fucking true babe. when smut is prioritized over plot, u can tell and so many of the booktok rec's they have are just that. there are ways to write smut and have it still be a story. there's also ways to write pwp and still craft it and yet, u dont see that often. also what happened to being excited when two bitches hold HANDS??? AND KISS FOR THE FIRST TIME?? it's appalling the way they thirst for that content but write their captions like "and they have s3x!!! and f@&k in the bathroom hehehe" like what. its such sanitized and shit content honestly

god ur so right i hadn't even thought about hunting down old fics - and it would make such a difference if you could do that because otherwise SO much weighs on when u post it and if it shows in tags and yada yada

this is so much omg u don't have to read all that but genuinely the reason i started writing more steddie and less x reader is the difference in reception and general support. i dont feel like i'm competing against my mutuals, but more like we're here to just hoot and hollar at each other and unless u have a tight knit group of friends on here, u don't get that on x reader fics ://