#as you may know i am incapable of shutting the fuck up when it comes to zosia

[salemsimss]

31, 35, and 42 for Zosia for the oc asks! ❤️❤️

AAAAA thank you for the ask!

31. Who are they most glad to have met? Ooo this is a tricky one! I feel like it would be Silvia as she has become Zosia's main source of support. Silvia takes no shit, but will listen and support you in any way that she can, even if it is "behind the scenes". As Zosia is one of the few people who have gotten to know Silvia on a more personal level, they find it refreshing when they see Silvia show off parts of her personality and humour.

35. How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they super supportive?

I would imagine that this would depend on the mood and what it is the other person is excited about. Typically, Zosia's eyes would light up the moment they sense excitement, and would even share the excitement with the other person. If it's exciting news, Zosia would find ways to celebrate. If the person has managed to complete a task that they have put off for a long time, Zosia would find ways to celebrate. If the exciting thing is something related to the person's interests, Zosia would listen as the other person speaks about it. Not only that, but Zosia would also dabble into the interest/hobby/etc to get a better understanding, and to have something to talk about to.

However, if Zosia was in a bad mood, or is just not there mentally, her reaction would be different. In that case, I feel like Zosia would give the person a smile, and just sit and listen to them. While they may not be as enthusiastic/energetic, she will still support them.

42. How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

I feel that this could be depending on the potential routes. Trigger warning for: Suicide

Zosia is canonically suicidal, and their reason for joining Theseus 08085 was because their previous suicide attempts had failed. Going to space and into uncharted territory could very well be a death sentence for some, and Zosia saw that as an opportunity - like a way out of life. Zosia's end goal would be to die.

Depending on the routes, and how they are overall treated etc, this could still remain as the end goal. If Zosia's attempts would continue to fail, then they will just throw themselves into danger's way in the hopes of dying in the process. Zosia would not stop until one day it works.

Alternatively, there is a chance for a good ending, meaning a completely different end goal. For this to happen, something inside her will need to snap, or something will just need to happen. Zosia will be hit with the realisation that people genuinely do care, and with the right support, they could learn to manage their trauma and mental illnesses. Not only that, but they will learn that life can be worth living. This will lead to the recovery route, where Zosia will be determined to overcome her traumas, even if it means living out of spite until she feels that she wants to live. Her end goal would be to make her Dad, and the rest of their family proud.

p.s have a pic of zosia with laika because they have been rotting my brain lately ❤️

[heylittleriotact]

⚰ＷＩＰ ＷＨＥＮＥＶＥＲ⚰

I've been tagged by @xxnashiraxx and love seeing their work pop up on my dash - thank you <3

The Soup du Jour is... smut! Plotless, pointless, porntacular, horny Emmrook smut.

We've got praise kinks, we've got flashing, we've got grinding, we've got trying-to-distract-this-poor-man-from-his-work, we've got Rook biting off more than she can chew when Emmrich calls her bluff. It is in this piece that I am (ultimately) going to make good on my threat of Emmrich reciting erotic poetry intimately into Rook's ear while he makes deeply passionate love to her, because that idea has lived rent-free in my head for days now and I need to manifest it. But first I need Rook to be a brat, and for Emmrich to... deal with that.

I was having doubts about this one because I am forever afraid of writing OOC, but honestly I'm just trying to chuck it in the fuck it bucket and have fun.

Tagging: @preciouslittlebhaalbae (you have TIME now MWAHAHAHA), @allofthebarks (don't hold out on me), @emmg (I know you're cooking 👀)

Under the cut because it is ✨EXPLICIT✨

𝒱𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃:

A funeral event where the prepared body of the deceased is reposed in the casket (open or closed) so that mourners may pay their respects, say their goodbyes, and grieve communally prior to the formal funeral service.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she pulled on the flimsy little camisole. She had very specific plans in mind when she slipped into the thin leggings that she knew were just a little too tight. There was a distinct reason she had chosen to completely forgo underthings. 

She tied her thick hair into a low bun at the base of her skull so her neck was clearly visible… as was the somewhat faded love bite from their previous encounter - the one that made Lace turn beetroot when she laid eyes on it at breakfast. The one that prompted Taash to reach over the table with a congratulatory high five. Emmrich had coughed awkwardly and subtly adjusted his own collar, clearly hoping the marks Amina had left on his neck in return were concealed.

She padded barefoot down the hallway to the laboratory, stomach fluttering and turning on itself in a not unpleasant way with the sheer anticipation of being in his proximity again. She couldn’t help but be drawn to him - his immense gravity could not be ignored; her need to be near him was insistent. She put little stock in the novelty of fate before Emmrich, but there was no doubt in her mind that there must have been some sort of cosmic ruling in which they were unwittingly sentenced by the stars to find one another. Her belly smouldered at the thought of such a thing… of such belonging.

She knocked gently on the door. “It’s me - may I come in?” 

She didn’t have to wait for an answer, nor did she have to turn the knob herself: she heard a chair scuff over the flagstone, the muffled jingle of gold - a sound that set her heart racing more often than not these days - and the door was flung open. Emmrich stood in the threshold, beaming affectionately down at her. 

“Of course, darling.” He took her hand and pulled her into the room, reaching over her shoulder to shut the door once she was inside. She might have been embarrassed that the sound of the lock clicking behind her made her breath catch solely due to its implication, but she was having a hard time feeling much of anything but barely restrained lust for the man in front of her. 

He drew her in close with an arm around her waist, still holding her hand between them, massaging her palm with his thumb as he bowed his head to kiss her sweetly. Her knees went weak when his lips met hers and his familiar scent filled her nose, rendering her brain incapable of anything other than inwardly chanting the same base sentiment over and over for as long as the kiss lasted: Home! Home! Home! Home! You’re home!

He straightened and looked at her, smiling as though he hadn’t heard the hungry little moan that had slipped from her, nor perceived the way she’d pressed as much of her body against him as she could during their embrace. “How are you today?” He asked, genuinely interested - as always. He knew. Surely he knew that she was positively bursting with need for him.

“Fine,” she breathed, returning the smile, watching as he started back towards the desk that was covered with books, inkpots, and parchment. “I’m well, thank you. Just thought I’d come say hello, see what you’re up to.”  

He pulled a chair over to the opposite side of the desk for her to sit on. She opted to remain standing instead, her eyes flitted over the pages of drying ink spread over the desk. 

“More letters home?” She waited until he was settled in his chair again, the quill back in his hand, and she bent at the waist to take a closer look at a recent anatomical drawing he’d completed. She could feel the cozy heat of the laboratory caress the exposed peaks of her breasts as the insubstantial shirt draped downward, offering a generous eyeful to anyone who might be sitting directly across from her. 

Her eyes flicked up from the drawing when Emmrich didn’t answer right away, a clever smile pulling at the corners of her mouth when she caught him red-handed; his eyes locked on the dainty swell of her breasts. 

He came to his senses when he felt her eyes on him and he comprehended the coquettish smirk on her face. “Yes.” He licked his lips. “Yes. Maintaining alliships and channels of communication is vital as we draw closer to our confrontation with the gods.” He swallowed and smiled again as Amina straightened and rounded the desk, settling against the wood on his side now.

“A fine plan,” she concurred, leaning back on her hands, her very visible nipples more or less eye level for the handsome academic to admire. “I hope I’m not distracting you: it’s so rare that I get a few hours to just relax these days.” She made a bit of a show of tilting her chin up and slowly rolling her head from side to side, stretching out the muscles of her neck and making sure Emmrich could see the soft plum-tinted bloom of colour he’d imparted on her skin as he sent her over the edge with his name on her lips, buried to the hilt between her legs as she clenched hard around him, her fingers curled tightly in his soft, thick hair. ‘You are incredible, darling,’ he had sighed against her tingling skin afterwards when they were little more than a tangled, panting heap of limbs. It had taken a good hour after that before she could walk again…

Amina squirmed against the desk a little at the thought, aware of the burgeoning wetness that was accumulating at the juncture of her thighs. 

Somehow Emmrich managed to maintain the discipline required to look back at the letter he was working on, his lips curling quaintly. “Not at all, my dear - quite the contrary in fact: I’m so glad that you’re finally taking some time to look after yourself.” He dipped the quill, tapped it once, twice, and then brought it to the paper.

She observed him in silence until he seemingly made peace with the fact that she was not going to sit on the chair he’d brought over for her, and instead pushed his own back slightly, pulling her down onto his lap where she perched gleefully, having gotten what she wanted. 

“I must concede that you are somewhat distracting, so I will need your assistance in proofreading these before they’re sent out - I do have an academic reputation to maintain, regardless of the beautiful woman on my knee.” 

“Is that so?” Amina purred, nuzzling into his neck, her lips barely ghosting over his skin that smelled organic and clean - crisp soap and freshly cut sage… a lingering hint of pipe tobacco and expensive brandy. 

Oh yes, she was going to be one hell of a distraction…

“She sounds like a real piece of work, this woman. It’s a marvel that you get anything done at all with her around.” She tilted her hips ever so slightly. Not enough for it to be claimed that she was trying to get a rise out of him, but enough so that the fingernails of his left hand dug into her side a little where he gripped her. A pleased smile took her lips at the feeling of him against her, already half hard: he could pretend to be aloof and composed all he liked, but she knew that there was only one possible outcome for this encounter. 

“I was just having a similar thought, as it turns out,” he murmured, breath catching slightly when Amina ground against him more deliberately this time. “She’s cornered me in my laboratory no fewer than three times this week, you see: my productivity has utterly plummeted.”

The way he whispered those words, his voice so sinful and cunning…

“Oh dear…” Amina tutted. “Well we can’t have that now, can we?” She moved to slide from his lap, fully prepared to at least pretend that she cared a whit about Emmrich’s ‘productivity’ of late. 

He held her fast though, keeping her on his lap with his hands and arms, and the sheer fact of his existence alone. She rewarded him with a satisfied hum and another agonizingly slow roll of her hips, suspecting that she was probably beginning to soak through her thin pants.

His hand dropped from her waist to her thigh and he palmed the expanse of hard muscle there, dragging his fingers towards her hip as he leaned forward and his hot breath washed over the sensitive shell of her ear, driving a small gasp from her as she flinched in his grasp: he had not been idly boasting during that dinner date about his anatomical prowess.

“I fear I wouldn’t have it any other way…” he confided, those artful, nimble fingers of his straying to her waistband and slipping beneath it. He sharply inhaled through his teeth and uttered a soft ‘oh’ when he found her waiting for him, slick and needy. There was a slight tremor in his voice when he said, “She is intoxicating, you see…”

She moaned encouragingly as he swirled a finger through her, clearly enjoying the experience of her arousal alone: she could distinctly feel his hardness against her rear now.

Oh how she longed to ravish him - ride him to completion on this very chair, or on the floor perhaps. Maybe against one of the many bookshelves that lined the room - they had dallied against one the week before, her leg hitched up around his thin waist, pulling him deeper as he set a pace that stole her breath from her lungs and hit angles that caused her to see stars. 

Or she could bend over the railing of the balcony upstairs and feign interest in the curious nature of their environs while he slammed into her over and over again, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips… 

Of course there had been the rather awkward instance a few days earlier where Manfred had wandered in on them both in a state of partial undress: Emmrich’s waistcoat hanging open, Amina dragging her hands through his hair, her own shirt piled in a careless heap on the floor nearby and Emmrich’s hand down her pants as she tried to kick off her high-heeled lilac slippers without removing her lips from his skin. Manfred had launched himself between the two of them with a consternated hiss, clearly interpreting their entanglement to mean they were fighting instead of well… the other thing. The following day, Emmrich gave his first in a series of many lectures to Manfred about the birds and the bees - and reiterated the invaluable virtue of always knocking before entering a room that might have someone else in it.

She was snapped from her musing at the sublime sensation of Emmrich’s finger dragging along the ridges of her walls as he slid the digit inside of her. She let out a small gasp at the intrusion and reflexively clenched around it, hips rocking against his once more. 

“... but I really must finish these letters.” There was a playful, coy edge to his voice as he slowly withdrew his finger and slowly pushed it back in. “This striking woman of mine will need to exercise patience today, it seems…”

Something about being his striking woman in particular sent a jolt of arousal straight through her very soul. She could feel the cool metal of his rings against her feverish skin as he cupped her sex, his thumb brushing almost tauntingly over her aching clit. 

“Please, Emmrich…” she whined, arching up into his touch, making her need plain. 

The demonstration of manners earned her a second finger, but her lover did not deviate from his task as he leaned forward, dipped the quill, and began to write once more. “In good time, my precious love,” he soothed. “Try to relax for the time being - I shan’t take long.” 

“It feels so good though…” 

“That’s wonderful, darling - I want you to feel good.” 

She fell silent, the wind in the sails of her desire to argue stilling as she let her head fall against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, allowing herself to exist in the moment - holding on tight to every emphatic response of her nervous system as Emmrich touched her with a capable familiarity that suggested he’d touched her a thousand times before; the erotic symphony of the quill scratching over the parchment mingled with the sound of his fingers moving within her… her breathy moans… his many bangles shifting gently with each purposeful gesture…

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured eventually - she had lost track of time - kissing her shoulder before returning to the letter. He had to be nearly done, hadn’t he? “So good for me… my sweet Amina…”

She whimpered at his words - the reverent praise tolling something deep within her that was starved and lonely. She writhed on his thigh as he placed tender kisses all over her cheek and crooked his fingers, stroking that euphoric place inside of her that made cognizant thought impossible and made her thighs tremble like she’d been in the training hall all day. He took her apart slowly, casually… effortlessly, and before long she was fluttering around him, cheeks and lips flushed a delicate pink, staring down an orgasm that was about to be everyone in the building’s business - she could feel it: the deep fire in her belly roiling and twisting on itself, going taut, so tense and eager that one more touch could snap it, yielding the most decadent release…

And then he was gone, the absence of his touch keenly felt as her walls flexed and tensed around the sudden nothingness. 

She glowered at him, though her stomach flip-flopped enthusiastically as she watched him taste her on his slender fingers with a dignified poise she should have expected. “That was cruel.”

“Is it cruel to strive to linger in a garden of untold majesty forever, even knowing forever is unobtainable?” He stroked those same fingers gently over her lips and she caught the tip of one between her teeth, flicking the very tip of her tongue over the fleshy pad of it. “I want to savour you, my dear.” He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her scent. “Let me take my time.”

[henrioo]

Luffy is aroace! Just shut up

(catchy title without purpose because it's my post and I can do what I want and I'm really tired and irritated by this speech)

There's something that really irritates me about the One Piece community in general

"Luffy doesn't have sex because he's aroace!"

???? Aroace people have sex??

Like, people talk like aroace people can't have sex or have relationships

And I know there will be people who just like this hcs or like to say this because they are aroace and want to identify themselves and that's ok

But most people who say this are not Aroace and don't even have the slightest knowledge about Aroace people

You know, being an aroace doesn't make you a robot incapable of having sex and falling in love, that's not how it works???

And yes, you can say that he doesn't have sex AND he's an aroace, but you can't EVER say that he doesn't have sex JUST because he's an aroace

This is fucking prejudiced

Seriously, this type of thinking is why the aroace community is so invalid and treated like a joke

And a fact for those who don't know, you can NOT have sex and guess what, NOT be aroace or ace

Because one thing has NOTHING to do with the other???

If you don't think Luffy doesn't have sex or would have a relationship, this is your hcs and it's ok!! You are free to find whatever you want, and also it's ok to have Luffy with hcs aroace, nothing wrong about that!

But don't use aroace as a justification for saying "oh he doesn't have sex because he's an aroace" because like I said, aroace people can YES HAVE SEX

Just do a little research before you start talking shit, people may not want relationships and sex without being aroace

It's not like, oh I don't like sex therefore I'm ace, that's not how it works???

Regardless of what you feel, only YOU can say what you are, if you don't consider yourself any lgbt label, then you are not lgbt

It's just, frustrating, because I see, like, people saying that Luffy doesn't have sex because he's an aroace and here I am an aroace who has no problem having sex and does have a desire for it

Seriously, if you are going to talk about something that you have no place to talk about and is not part of your community, the least you can do is research it, don't be stupid

If you have any questions about aroace people, feel free to send me a message, I love talking about my community and everything it encompasses, because series, the aroace community is much more extensive than you can imagine

But anyway, you author, when you talk about a subject that you don't understand, just research it first, don't come off as homophobic or prejudiced for nothing, ok? :))

[dangermousie]

Lost You Forever ep 37

There are a lot of things going on in this ep but one of them is XY finding it a lot harder to let go than she thought it would be. Her immediate reaction to Jing's family mess was to cut him off and it was pure self-preservation on her part - I mean, she didn't even think to let Jing know his supposedly demure fiancee was an assassin for hire by fifth and seventh kings, which was not only a safety issue but something that may have helped him to break off the engagement before the pregnancy and maybe even after, because she really did not want to fight for him. And it was because she wants to protect her heart at all costs. But I think she is learning that being passive and waiting to be pursued and detaching when there is trouble didn't actually result in self-preservation. She is still hurt and she still hasn't gotten over him (so perhaps fighting would have been worth it, because not fighting led not to indifference but to pain.) And Jing really does look like a ghost and then he sees her and he's in pain if at least marginally more alive but he's just so beaten down.

One thing hasn't changed - he still is on it like a hawk at the first sign of her in trouble.

I do love how often he's depicted as a supplicant - on his knees in front of her.

When she comes to and withdraws her hand and you can see him trying his damnedest not to cling and failing...

If you want to switch up the flavors of misery have CX, and my heart breaks for him here utterly, as he's marrying a woman he does not love or even know, to solidify his position and to protect XY. It is not any different than when he was pretending to be a playboy chasing those random women and hating it so much - I remember his telling XY he hated their smell and here he is, with another woman and this time forever.

His face in that last cap- I just want to cry. Did I mention that CX is my favorite male character now? He is digging his own grave as determinedly and as knowingly as XL and ouch ouch ouch ouch. By following her insane "romantic love above all" credo, his mother (who literally committed suicide to be with her dead husband instead of raising her freaking small child who was surrounded by sharks!) made sure her son will never even have a chance at love.

The bit with Jing watching XY with XL and this time all he can do is watch in silent despair because he has no right? Ouch ouch ouch.

When he walks into the feast room, he really looks like he can barely lift his feet and it's a miracle he does not trip over the threshold and collapse.

(Oh, the bitter irony since this is applicable to both CX and Jing.)

The chemistry between them is insane and I was rooting for them to kiss (sorry Jing, I still root for you!) but of course he won't let it. XL is determined to march on to his death for his cause and is shutting down any hope/part of him that wants to instead seek love and the future - by lashing out or avoidance or just shutting things down. It's pretty horrifying tbh. They are all so traumatized.

If even Rich Jesus is rolling his eyes at you, you know you fucked up. (I am so sad she didn't live to see the fallout!)

I "love" granny being sooo excited to see the spawn of satan, completely not caring that her supposed beloved grandson (who she drugged into this!) looks like the walking dead.

The fact that he still mourns for the old monster when she keels over - I could never but then this is the gentleness that XY fell for and that had the patience to woo her. Everything has plusses and minuses.

PS I loved this bit so much. She can't let go, can she? The empress of denial and moving on is incapable. How can anyone argue after stuff like this that she doesn't love him?

[izzysbeans]

ok but why are people incapable of accepting that they may have been wrong about someone when a celebrity gets cancelled? like every fucking time someone gets cancelled for doing some shit every fucking comment online is like "i never liked them" or "when has anyone cared about this person" like shut up if no one cared they obviously wouldn't have been famous in the first place

i don't give a shit about Blake Lively either but i can still recognize she was a hit girl especially in the 2000's having been in iconic movies and shows like sisterhood of the traveling pants and gossip girl, and her husband is very much liked by the general public, also i swear to god the internet was worshipping her at ever met gala for her looks two seconds ago and now it's "i never liked her" come on be real for a second you are allowed to like someone when you don't know all the information and then change your mind when you find out that they aren't who you thought they were

or maybe that's too nuanced a take idk

disclaimer: i am not going to claim that all the people making those comments are lying, I'm sure some are genuine, I'm just saying it feels so fucking performative to see most people like a celebrity and then the moment they do anything bad there's this "ah! i knew it! i have such good instinct! I'm always right!" or "i am so above pop culture i have never even bothered myself with the existence of this human, i am a higher being who lives in the moment in real life, i do not concern myself with such low level gossip *laughs like a sailor moon villan*" like i never its freedom of speech but this just such odd behavior idk maybe I'm just a hater

[whippersnappersbookworm]

This may sound like oversharing but I am freaking tired of my mother and her inability to stand up for herself. Like leave standing up to my father and telling him to shut up , she doesn't even stand up to the maid! Our maid literally does nothing she was supposed to do , like she doesn't clean the house properly, doesn't cook the things she was requested to cook . Not only that one time we had to leave my dog alone for three days , the creches were all booked up so we decided to leave her on home with our maid. She said yes and promised to take care of her,my mother even payed her extra but she completely bailed on us and left my dog all alone . My dog was so scared and hungry when we came back ,but my mother didn't uttered a single word, didn't even question her after we get to know the truth from the neighbours , she just paid her the money! Like are you fucking kidding me? Even after that I didn't say anything because she never listens to me but today I lost patience and asked our maid (politely may I add) to get her shit together. And guess what happened my mother got angry with me and blamed me for all of her problems! Like are you serious? How come I become the villain every single time? I am the one who is always making sure that you are ok, I held your hand when you were going through depression even though you never did any of that while I was suffering. I had the chance to leave you and go outside West Bengal to study , but I didn't because I didn't want you to be all alone . I am continuously doing everything I can to help you , I am acting as a parent since I was 11 years old , I never get to enjoy my childhood ,I have to take care of everything in our house starting from bank details to bills because my mother being the youngest child never bothered to learn this. The only thing I ask in return is a bit of love and care but apparently you are incapable of doing that . I am seriously tired of her ...why do parents love torturing us like this? Why?

Idk why I am writting this on Tumblr, I know I will regret this as soon as I calm down but ok ...

[autisticjoshrusso]

What are your favorite Josh headcanons?

its the way that im so incapable of shutting the fuck up about this guy but the moment i get asked directly im like UHHHH IDK. so apologies if this is kind of a mess <3 also i rarely think about cute and fluffy things i am always digging deep into trauma and such so uh yeah these are going to be on the heavier side.

The biggest one is obviously that he's autistic, shocking I know. Who would've guessed this would be a dearly held headcanon of tumblr user autisticjoshrusso. It truly makes me so insane and I'm incapable of like... properly summarizing it in its entirety so I am actually working on going through ep by ep breaking down my thoughts about it. So far there's just this one post, but I am slowly but surely working through a series rewatch and doing this along the way. So. Stay tuned? JKDFHKJ

I think he was very obviously Gay even as a child and that it definitely affected his ability to socialize throughout his entire childhood and adolescence. Like he's very much giving "only had female friends who may or may not have treated him like an actual human person and not their accessory GBF". And he still leans into that "persona" sometimes as an adult because it's an easy way to be liked <3 again its the autism but yknow.....

Speaking of childhood, he's giving only child to me. And I think his relationship to his parents is just... non-existent. He didn't deliberately cut contact, it wasn't any sort of dramatic abuse situation, they just... aren't close? It's that thing where they knew he was gay from the start but also never really knew how to handle it, never being fully accepting but not outright hateful, just a very awkward medium that made it difficult to form a lasting bond into adulthood. They text once per holiday and are friends on Facebook.

This one doesn't really have much of a canon basis but rather builds on my other headcanons, and that's that growing up being a Known Gay led him to well... his own kind of Buck 1.0 era, so to speak. Basically being the favorite secret hookup for every deeply closeted sports bro, which was horrific for his mental health but was like... scraps of attention/intimacy that he wouldn't get otherwise, so why not keep doing it? I like this one because not only does it make the whole trying to avoid a meaningless hookup when he rejoined dating apps thing more meaningful and hurt even more than it already does, but also adds a new layer of substance to his beef with Eddie that I think is really interesting.

The timeline of this show is all sorts of fucked so I've just decided that like... he either just turned or will soon be turning 40, and definitely has some feelings about that because when he was younger he did NOT expect he'd live to be that old <3 Not necessarily in an active ideation way, but more of a passive disregard for his life and just general queer pessimism? I hold that Sue saved his life twice, first in the fire and then by giving him a job that gave him an actual sense of purpose and direction for probably the first time ever. Every time he thinks about the fact he might actually end up being a proper Queer Elder he just?? surprised pikachu meme.

I was going to just do five of these but for the sake of not having all of these be sad as fuck, one last bonus one for you is that I think his main special interest(s) is celebrities and films and pop culture and stuff like that <3 like he WILL infodump about the lead actress' entire filmography before you can actually watch the movie.

Thank you for asking I love talking about my favorite special guy <3 Minor characters are my absolute favorite and I love to come up with deeper backstories than what we're given based on over-analyzing all of their behaviors <3

[the1975attheirverybest]

I’ve been a huge Taylor fan since 2009 and I 100% feel you. I’m sick of her right now. So so tired from May and all the shit that came from (most) swifties. I’m not even joking when I say all of my swiftie friends turned on me and participated in the backlash, even a few that were 75 fans?? It was truly all so performative, because why didn’t you give a fuck before this? 

I’m beyond sick of Maylors too. I liked the idea of them but it’s over, give it a rest. I saw a thread a few days ago that said IILWY is about Taylor, completely disregarding that lyric about a black girl. Realllly side-eyeing the fans that just pretend like he wasn’t with Twigs for 3 years, especially when they might’ve been engaged. That breakup really seemed hard on him. Also people saying It’s Not Living is about her?? It literally has a line about shooting up heroin in it but okay. 

It also upsets me that she didn’t shut any of that shit down. In a way I’ve lost some respect for her. She didn’t have to say anything specifically about Matty but god tell some fans to fuck off for once. 

Sorry for the long message, it just seems like you share some of my frustrations, and I know a lot of others do. 

No, no, I totally understand and 10000% agree with you. This is a safe space for venting frustrations lol.

And, yeah, I was (and still am) sickened by all that shit. ESPECIALLY the twigs stuff. I had half a mind to rant about it on here the other day but I felt like it would fall on deaf ears. I’ve even had conversations with some Maylors, tried to hear them out and see their logic. See if I can offer them mine. It’s like they’re incapable of understanding that matty would sing about anything but love or anything BUT TAYLOR. I’d be like “yeah sure it SOUNDS like a love song but it’s about drugs” they’d conveniently gloss over the line or say “beautiful shoes Taylor is known for her shoes.” IS SHE???!! I’ve never heard that before ever.

I’m so sorry about your swiftie friends. I’ve had the same experience. Though they weren’t 75 fans they just supported my obsession with the band lol. But yeah. Personally, I think Taylor is a great artist and has earned her place in pop history. But other than that…..idk. Especially when it comes to speaking out about stuff. She either won’t, or will do it in a way that comes off as paying lip service. Which is fine. I’m not saying every artist should be an activist. Actually it’d be great if uninformed people stopped performing wokeness and stfu and left it to experts. But she holds away with swifties she could’ve said some passive aggressive shit about being kind or whatever. Idkkk man.

It’s just a lot right now and it’s everywhere even when I don’t go looking for it, it seems to find me lmao. It’s okay though. Things will calm down eventually. I’m sure it also has to do with the fact that they’re both touring right now and in the public eye. Hopefully the weird maylor shit will calm down with time. But yeah I’m so done with trying to respect their pov or whatever. They’ve gone wayyyyy over the line.

[caelumsnuff]

i want to hear your recent opinions ^O^

Thank you for soliciting my opinions lol

So! With the resurrection of the whole “making characters a certain race” discussion, I have had So Many Opinions about the entire situation.

I feel like a significant amount of people from both sides have come at the discussion in bad faith and that’s only caused more tension and halted any meaningful dialogue we could have been having from this whole thing. On one hand we have people who are rightfully suspicious about the entirety of someone’s cast being white/seemingly only making characters poc when they fit stereotypes associated with those races, and on the other hand we have people who did such a thing and refuse to analyze their own mannerisms.

To be very very clear: we are correct to be suspicious when white people do these things!!! But i think where many go wrong is walking into discussions having already let their suspicions turn into assumptions; if you show up to a discussion already having made up your mind about someone, you’re never going to get anywhere! You cannot have productive discussions whilst attacking another person for being racist when you don’t even know if they are actually a racist, they’re only ever going to go on the defensive. And you know, when you think someone may have a little bit of implicit bias, you want to actually get them to analyze and deconstruct those biases, not immediately get defensive and shut down criticism because they feel attacked.

And also, i think it's ridiculous that almost every single white person has just automatically ignored why we may be uncomfortable with a cast suspiciously missing any people of color, or only making characters of color when they seem to fit into stereotypes. They ask "why?" and then disregard any of our explanations. I understand when someone comes and accuses you of something you can end up feeling attacked, but as an adult it's your responsibility to 1) assess whether you're actually being attacked and if you're not, 2) whether or not their assumptions are true. If you want to be an anti-racist person, you should actually be analyzing the things you do that might be born of implicit bias instead of going "nope! not racist! therefore i am incapable of doing something racist!" because thats just blatantly false.

Theres so many reasons that someone could have made every character played by Erik white, the easiest of which being that Erik's white. People associate voices with faces sometimes, and we all know what that white guy looks like, his face is everywhere. I wouldn't be surprised if some people cannot imagine characters Erik voices as looking drastically different than him. The appearance of his characters are supposed to be for you to decide. I can imagine that for some people not being give a face to associate with a certain character they just automatically see Erik or someone who looks similarly.

I also find the idea of looking for representation from random artists in the fandom pretty iffy, especially when its from characters that are all voiced by a single white boy. Please please please, go find and support VAs and ASMRists who are actually POC instead of relying on fan-artists and a single white boy for representation.

All in all just.... treat each other kindly and with grace, do some introspection on your own subconscious actions and decisions, and stop spitting straight vitriol at one another because of something in a fucking boyfriend roleplay asmr fandom. Give others the benefit of the doubt, and give yourself the chance to grow and unlearn some things growing up in a racist society may have taught you.

[alyosiuscreightonward]

Dear Diary. I need to get out of my head. I overthink. I don’t know what is true or false. My emotions are everywhere. It’s very much like attempting to dodge the raindrops. One may have an umbrella but no matter how one tries, you will still get wet.

This is exactly why I am “The Demolition Man.” I destroy everything in my life. I will never have anything nice. I do have my mom’s Baccarat Crystal but it’s in bubble wrap and in a box and it’s probably never going to see the light of day.

I’m having one of those Walmart Temper Tantrums. I want to be told that I am a terrible human being because I have no right to my feelings about him.

These feelings I have, well, I don’t want them. I was just able to make do without having feelings. But since I am a fucking loser who needs to be put down like a patient of Jack Kevorkian. No way wait a minute. Just shoot me in the head or something and let me die right there. Or even better yet, I’ll stand in the middle of the street and I’ll wait to get hit by a car. Or maybe he will get in his truck and just run me down. I’ll be more than happy to jump in front of him so he can erase me.

He will most likely say that he is so very sorry that he reignited feelings that I have absolutely no right to having. I don’t deserve anything. I am told that I have to go and live my life with nothing. All I’m allowed to have are my material possessions and absolutely nothing else. I am not allowed to have feelings.

Just tell me that I suck and I need to shut the fuck up and stop existing. GO!! DON’T!! YOU’RE SO FUCKING ANNOYING!!! Die. Motherfucker, Die.

I’m sure that he is terrified of me. He likes the attention but that’s it. I know that he has other things going in his life and sadly I’m the interloper. I am the person that gets in but was never invited. “I’d invite you but I’m afraid you’d accept.”

I will never know. I’ve got to come to grips with knowing that I am incapable. Yes, I am quite well aware that he has bullshit going on in his life and I can’t be apart of it because he is terrified of me. He doesn’t want to know me anymore.

Are there other people who are throwing themselves at him and he doesn’t know what to do about it because he probably prefers vagina over a penis and testicles. He has a very nice penis and testicles. I’m a fucking Eunuch and my junk is gone. Even if I do have an erection, and I do masturbate, my little two minute thing is not going to bring me pleasure. I don’t deserve it and I don’t deserve that pleasure. I’m a loser.

Does he actually think that it’s going to be one of those hyper-sexualized moments? It’s not a fucking porn. There will be no kissing or anything like it is portrayed in a porn video. That’s not what I want. But does he know that?!

This is all because I wanted to actually talk to someone last night on my way home but I think that when I called him, he saw my number and bitch slapped me. So therefore I am so fucking needy and I don’t deserve to have him in my life. LOSER!!!

YOU DON’T DESERVE ANYTHING!!!

Apparently when I get the smallest amount of attention, I’m picking out China patterns? I’m sending out invitations?!

I think of the lyrics, “It’s silly of me, to think you could ever be my guy.” Deniece Williams is on the money with that song. Or even better yet, GWAR said it best, “I’M SICK OF YOU!!”

“Dreams welcome.” BULLSHIT!! I’m my own worst enemy and I’m just the living embodiment of being the best example of “Inner Saboteur.” I’m the Demolition Man.

He probably won’t break it to me gently. He will just drop me and go on with his life without me in it. I bet he’s sorry that he ever met me. I’m sure he hates me. I’m sure that he wants me dead. I just ruin everything!!

I’m sure that he will say, “You don’t deserve anything. You’re a loser. Just please go the fuck away.” Now I’m sure that this conversation will never happen. Because I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve to have feelings and he’s going to make sure of it.

He will squish me like a bug. He will most likely cut off his ankle rather than scrape me off the bottom of his shoe.

I brought this on. I just wanted to hold him in my arms. Now, I’m going to accept that I’m a loser and I don’t deserve anything. I’m just old and ugly and stupid and just another loser who exists and I don’t deserve to exist.

I’m going to tell you one last time. I did not want these feelings. I hid them away for years. Years. I denied them. I had not been with another warm body for more than 20 years. I went around and checked myself. If I had a feeling, I went about to get rid of them. I see it now. We don’t deserve each other anymore.

“What were you thinking?! Jesus H Fucking Christ, insert government name here. That was your biggest mistake to think! Get the fuck over it and disappear!!”

[c0smicfern]

idk how to phrase this exactly. i know what i want to write, but it's hard to write it out coherently when the conceptualization part of my brain & the... word forming part of my brain aren't talking to each other. basically, i know i've been a bit rampant with the internalized ableism lately. it's a nasty habit that i can get into, particularly when my functioning is as dampened as it is now. got super overstimulated at the grocery store and nearly had another *something* in my car. when i finally managed to calm my brain down, i knew i still wanted to listen to music on the ride home, even if at 1/4th the volume i normally do. realized that the playlist i had been listening to while driving around wouldn't do my brain any good, esp since there's a bunch of hard rock & metal in it. i also remembered that i made a playlist specifically for that very situation the last time i burned out. i was just... struck by the amount of compassion & self-care i was capable of showing myself not very long ago. made me feel... guilty ig. bc i haven't been doing that so far during this burnout. i called out from work today, but i nearly made myself go in. i feel like that definitely contributed to the catatonia this morning. i identify more with the logical & volitional parts of my brain, but it's like the other parts pushed back against us this morning so hard that we completely shut down. like, 'yeah, you think we're going in? nope. you're not in charge here right now.' i need to remember how to love myself like i was capable of doing during the last burnout bc so far? this one has been *so much fucking worse* & that's almost assuredly bc i've been denying that i'm burnt out & trying to go on as i had been only a week ago. it's definitely been pushing others away as well. it's probably hard to believe that i love autistic people when i'm seemingly incapable of loving myself as i am rn. i wasn't expecting to burn out again so quickly or really... at all, ever again, but it happened. the only way i'm going to be able to recover & not push people away is by being the person who made the recovery playlist that i listened to on the way home from the store.

edit: i'm also. a bit closer to accepting that i'm probably autistic. for two reasons, mostly. first, i literally don't know what else it could possibly be at this point. second, my intuition has been scary accurate about these things, historically. while my logic has driven me astray more times than i can count. it's cold & calculating, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it's going to be a more accurate way of arriving at conclusions. i'll probably end up doubting it again when i come out of the burnout, but it seems irrevocably true right now. i really don't know what else could be causing these issues. i think, maybe, i was just better at finding patterns in people's behavior than some other autistic people. i do remember being much less socially attuned as a kid & teenager. to the point that i may not have been looking up how to read social cues or tell what people are thinking, but i probably picked up on it from studying interactions irl. that's my working theory bc, while autism as an explanation seemed really unlikely in-between the last burnout & this one, it still makes more sense than *anything else*. it's not c-ptsd, it's not the depression, and it's not schizophrenia. moreover, my few experiences with involuntary violence make me feel like it's almost assured. i got *very good* at masking & keeping my shit together bc my presentation of it is highly atypical & i'm *usually* very low support needs. obviously not rn. in fact, i kinda regret not asking my fiancée to pick up my meds for me, but i digress. those skills are something that i'm going to have to rebuild if i want to, but i feel like being that high-masking probably contributed to these burnouts. i ended up holding so much shit in that i feel worse than i ever have. it's going to be a struggle to continue accepting the reality of the situation when i finally break out of this again & continue using my disability aids, but it's important so this doesn't happen *again*. with my luck & executive functioning, it probably will, but it may not happen for years if i take *slightly better* care of myself. anyway, that's it. i'm probably autistic. i've hit two burnout periods in the span of one year & i literally *Don't Know What Else It Could Possibly Be*.

[lovingperfectionsblog]

Flinch

Max Verstappen x Reader

Requested: Yes

Heyyyyyyy, loved the new max fic! I was hoping you could do a max X (famous) Reader where the reader went through physical and verbal abuse from her parents as a child. Now they've been dating for a while and Max knows she isn't super close to her parents but doesn't know why. And like something max says/does in an argument just triggers her accidentally and she just huffs out of the apartment (not a breakup, just a let's do this later) and max is super pissed cause he doesn't know what he did. Then reader comes back very late at night and Max is sleeping in their room but wakes up when he hears the door open and he goes to check on her and she's just sitting on the floor with her head between her knees and her back to the couch and her shoulders are shaking so max thinks she's crying but she isn't making a sound, and this is where he feels like something is truly wrong (cause he's never seen the reader cry before). Then he walks towards her, and even though he's super silent, she hears his footsteps and she just immediately stops crying and puts on a tough face which makes max suspect her childhood was worse then he thought.  He goes and sits and asks her what's wrong and she finally tells him the truth and he comforts her and tells her that he'd never do anything to hurt her.

Summary: Max discovers the abuse his girlfriend had been subjected to as a child after he messes up.

Warnings: Abuse, talking about historic abuse, language.

Word Count: 2448

Authors Note: So this request has been sitting in my inbox for far too long now and honestly I really did want to write this one but truthfully this was a difficult one to write, albeit cathartic because a lot of this is based on my own experiences and the realization of that flinch when you experience when you are in an environment that you are actually safe in is a gut wrenching feeling. So if you like this I am glad, if you don’t, that’s okay, it was helpful to me. If you ever face any abuse or you aren’t even sure you are facing abuse, please reach out. You are not alone (as cliché that may seem), but you are not alone and there are ways to get help and there are ways to make sure you are safe, both mentally and physically, and speaking from experience, all it takes sometimes is doing the thing that everyone tells you is wrong but truly is the best thing for you. Please please be safe and always speak out against abuse and always make sure you are safe, physically, emotionally and mentally. You are loved and cherished and most importantly you are seen.

Also to note, I based a lot of this on the guilt and fear around what you experience and the tactics learnt to survive environments. I hope it is okay and I hope everyone likes it and has a wonderful, safe day <3

_____

“Max, I said I am done talking about this” your voice was low and cold, no longer willing to entertain the argument that Max had started through one of his bad moods.

“And I am not” Truthfully neither of you even knew what this argument was even about at this point, but it was in full swing with Max only gearing up.

Max wishes he could stop, Lord knows he wishes he could stop but once he was in one of these moods it was like his entire brain shut down and all he felt was anger, not thought it, felt it.

He hated that this was your first fight, over something that he couldn’t even remember but the first fight had to happen didn’t it and Max was not about to lose it.

“Max, either you talk calmly so we can discuss the actual issue, or we drop this until you have calmed down” you weren’t willing to just encourage a screaming match because at this point it seemed like you were going around in circles and Max was too angry to listen to any reason.

“The fucking issue is you never fucking support me, or is that something you’re incapable of doing, just tagging a long with the little rich boy for the ride of it all?” the words felt like dirt in his mouth. He knew that realistically you were in the only person in this god forsaken world of his that actually truly did give a shit about him truly, that you actually really did love him, but he was angry, and he wanted to hurt someone, he wanted to hurt you.

“Max, I’m sorry baby, I’ll try harder next time, I didn’t mean to not support you, I’ll do better from now on” you knew you weren’t wrong, but this was the next best option and the sudden fear from Max’s continuous screeching was overwhelming you and backing you into a corner. You were now doing what you had to in order to survive. What they had taught you to survive.

Placate. Agree. Retreat.

Just say okay, just say sorry, hide.

“NO! NO! NO FUCKING SORRY’S NOW Y/N!” Max threw his hands up in the air in frustration, hitting the wall next to him.

And you flinched.

Silence filled the entire room. The entire argument completely over in a second from Max’s actions.

You flinched.

Retreat.

“I have to go” the room suddenly suffocating you.

Max suddenly terrifying you. Too man memories resurfacing from your childhood and if you didn’t get out of there now then Max would find out about it all and that was a conversation you weren’t entire ready to open up about.

Truthfully, if you never had to open up about it then you never would. People don’t exactly understand the type of childhood you had and eventually you get tired of explaining it for them to just turn around and still question why you refuse to let your parents into your life.

And no one had ever seen you flinch.

No one had made you feel vulnerable enough to flinch and you were angry that he had. You were angry that he had made you feel safe and broken down those walls only to do this to you.

In his defence, he didn’t know, and he didn’t need to.

Just. Get. Out.

Max could do nothing other than watch you leave. He didn’t try stop you. He didn’t try and make you stay. He just watched. Entire body frozen, hand still supporting him against the wall.

Every ounce of anger in his body was suddenly replaced with a mixture of shame and confusion.

Did he just make the woman he loves flinch in an argument?

The guilt suddenly consuming him entirely. He had hit the wall and made the woman he planned on one day marrying fucking flinch.

He needed to change. He was never going to do this again. This anger he was done with. This uncontrollable rage needed to go. He needed to do whatever he could to make sure you felt safe. He was never willing to see that fear in your eyes again. A fear he fucking caused.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Maybe he was the monster people thought he was.

Maybe he was his dad after all.

No. No. He was never going to be his father. Never. He was going to be better, and Max did not care what parts of himself he needed to kill off in order to make sure you felt safe around him. To make sure you never had to worry again in his presence. Even if he had to kill off any of the anger that spurred on his driving, it would be worth it.

He was not his father and he needed to be better for you.

Once Max had recovered from the shock of what he had done he was pulling out his phone and making arrangements. First, therapy for his anger issues and realistically, all the childhood ones he faced. Secondly couples’ therapy. When he said he was willing to do anything, he meant absolutely everything. Lastly, he was booking a week away for the both of you. Anything to try and get you to forgive him. Anything to make up for what he had done to you.

_____

Max felt sick as he lay in bed waiting for you to come home, if you were even going to come home.

If you were ever going to come home.

He had been unable to sleep at all and had done nothing but lay in bed checking the time for what felt like hours. In truth it was hours. You had been gone for hours and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where you were. He didn’t know if you were safe. You hadn’t taken your phone, just your wallet and house keys. Just those two. Maybe he should get up and check again if you’d taken anything else. Any indication of where you were or might have gone or when you’re coming back and yes, he should probably go and check again.

What was the time? 1:23am.

He needed to know where you had gone. You were smart. You wouldn’t put yourself in danger, would you? You looked so fucking scared of him. Max couldn’t dwell on the look in your eyes for too long or he was sure he was going to get sick, but he couldn’t stop his brain replaying the flinch. Again and again and again and again and noise and flinch and noise and flinch and noise and flinch and now you were gone, and he had no idea where you were and this was all his fault.

He distracted himself by reciting his apology over and over again. In his head and then our loud. Practicing his movements as he lay there, making sure to never raise his hands to high or too quickly. Admonishing himself when he by mistake did.

God, what was the argument even about. He’d lose every single argument from this moment onwards if it meant you never looked at him with fear again and –

That was the front door. Fuck, that was the front door. Relief mixed with shame was an emotion Max had yet to ever experience but my god he was glad he was experiencing the relief part of it right now.

Max was up instantly, making his way towards the lounge where he assumed you were, seeing as he had yet to hear you move any deeper into the house towards him. He got to the door of your bedroom and paused, simultaneously terrified of scaring you further and terrified of what he might find.

Eventually he made he was through the dark house, slowly as to not frighten you, expecting to find you getting ready to make your way to bed but instead he found you, small and enclosed on yourself on the floor in the dark living room.

You sat with your back leaning against the couch, head against your knees as you hugged your legs closer to you, shoulders shuddering every few seconds and Max was confused, but the longer he stood there watching, the more it dawned on him, you were crying.

The sight was so odd to him because as Max wracked his brain for what was happening in front of him, he realised that this was the first time he had ever witnessed you cry and in that moment his heart shattered.

Max took a step closer, hesitant but protective nevertheless, intent on only comforting you now. He must have stepped to hard because in an instant you had shot your head up and were wiping away the tears before turning to look at him. In the moonlight Max could already see a small smile plastered to your face.

“I’m sorry for waking you baby, go back to bed, I promise I’ll be there soon” you immediately began remedying the situation, nervous that any hint at emotion would make him angry.

‘Remember, remove any emotion, then he won’t punish you’ A trick they had taught you to survive.

“You were crying” it’s all Max could say. God was he that socially inept that he couldn’t think of more to say when he just witnessed his girlfriend crying for the first time, ever.

Like, this was weird right? He wasn’t being absurd, how had he never seen you cry before?

“No, no, baby, I’m fine, I promise” you tried your best to reassure him, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself than you already had.

“I’ve never seen you cry before” why had he never seen you cry before?

“I don’t cry my love” your voice was sickly sweet. You wanted this conversation to be over with. You wanted him to go back to bed.

“That’s not- that’s not healthy” Max made his way over to you, sitting in front of you, placing his hands on your knees, realizing how puffy your eyes, how long, how deeply you had been crying. This wasn’t some fight, this was more, “why?”

“Why what?” there was trepidation in your voice.

“Why don’t you cry?” Max had never tried to be so gentle before in his entire life, but he wanted you to know this was safe, he was safe, you were safe.

You were at a loss for words. Why don’t you cry? You couldn’t exactly tell Max the real reason, but how he sat there, looking at you, begging you to be honest, maybe for the first time ever about this all, maybe you could tell him.

“My dad” you opted to tell the truth, no matter how painful this may be, but if anyone understood, it might be Max, or it might not be and he could leave, but it doesn’t matter anymore, you already started.

“Your dad?” you’d literally avoided any and all conversation about your dad since Max had known you.

“I didn’t exactly have the greatest childhood” you let out a dry chuckled and it made Max’s throat grow dry, he opted to not interrupt, hoping that if he didn’t you’d continue talking, carry on opening up to him about parts of you he had never knew even existed up until now, gently rubbing your knee, letting you know he was here, but you had space.

“I just, he was so” fuck, were you really about to do this. You could already feel your throat closing up, why did you have to be a throat crier?

“God, he was so abusive and I just, I couldn’t do it anymore and as soon as I could I just got them out my life. He always just, I was never good enough, I was always the problem, he just and then he would shout, and I was always so scared. Every time he got home I’d run upstairs to just stay out of his way, everything was always my fault. He was always shouting, and I was just always scared, and my mom always taught me, ‘don’t you dare show emotion, just say you’re right and I’m sorry, and then stay out of his way, it will only make him more mad if you don’t’ and then one day he just, it hurt so much and I just, and then you shouted and raised your hand and hit the wall, and it was just like” a sobbed wracked through your body and suddenly you couldn’t breathe. Gasping through the sobs, tears streaming down your face.

Next minute you felt Max grabbing you and pulling you close to him, instinctively wrapping your arms around him as you buried your face into his neck, sobbing all the while, gripping onto him for dear life and he didn’t reject you, he didn’t scold you, he didn’t blame you, instead he cradled you, held you close, kept you safe and he told you how much he cared, how he was there, how much he loved you.

And most importantly he told how sorry he was. For everything. For your childhood. How he wasn’t able to protect you from your dad then and how he had made you think he would ever do anything remotely similar to the abuse you had experienced before. Especially for how he had made you think that.

After what felt like hours just sitting there and crying and talking and crying some more and him telling you how sorry he is, how he is going to change for you, how safe you were now and about every single therapy session he was going to and you two were going to go to in order to fix this, Max eventually picked you up and carried you to bed.

After getting you changed and tucking you into bed, pulling you close to him and letting you drift off to sleep, he suddenly couldn’t.

His mind was a mixture of relief that you had finally opened up to him and trusted him enough, relief that you felt safe enough to finally cry and anger at what you had experienced, at the abuse you had suffered and most importantly what he had done to you. How he had never seen it, how he had just subjected you to it all over again.

Even as you slept he kept whispering to you, how sorry he was, for everything and how much he loved you and God he promised he was going to change if it was the last thing he did.

Because at the end of it all, he still made you flinch.

[ms-demeanor]

My friend says not to vote in the upcoming election because our liberal establishment is no different from fascism and because Trump's policies are merely an extension of existing policies (like the ICE concentration camps that were established under Obama). How would you, being a leftist like me and my friend, respond to this attitude?

When I was in high school there was one cataclysmic, catastrophic, Very Important school board meeting.

It was a perfect storm of religious freedom, LGBT Rights, and Holy Shit You’re Talking About Taking Daycare Away from Students Who Are Parents.

The first thing, religious freedom, was exceptionally stupid but I think it’s a great example of how shitty the suburb I lived in was and what we were dealing with. Basically the D&D club that I started was accused of being Satanists and the Campus Christian Club was trying to get us shut down for worshipping satan. (I live in the fucking WORST part of LA County, I swear). The defense for the D&D club was pretty simple: If we’re worshipping satan as an on-campus activity at lunchtime we have every right to do so just like the Campus Christian Club an in fact if the Campus Christian Club got us shut down for practicing a different religion they’d made a very effective argument for shutting down their Praising Christ on-campus lunchtime activity.

The second thing was ANOTHER conflict with the Campus Christian Club - this was more serious. This was “High schoolers shouldn’t be exposed to deviant lifestyles and therefore we need to shut down the Gay/Straight Alliance.” At that point the GSA was also very new and I was also the VP of it. Spoilers: we were allowed to continue existing and we had speakers come in from time to time - we had grownups who talked to us about dealing with homophobia and resources for what happened if your parents kicked you out; we had a trans woman in her 50s come and talk to us (in 2003!) about transphobia and dysphoria and how to cope. The adviser handed out a packet to all of us that had the suicide hotline number right at the top, I know at least three people used that number the first year. The defense for the GSA was actually another handy-dandy page out of the ACLU handbook: The Campus Christian Club’s definition of deviance is something they have a right to hold but not to impose on other people - if you ban the GSA based on being ‘deviants’ you are imposing someone else’s belief system on us so knock it off unless you want to be a fun LA Times story.

The third thing didn’t have ANYTHING to do with the Campus Christian Club and was much worse because it had to do with funding and teen moms. The third thing was “The district believes it’s a waste of money to continue to pay for childcare at the district continuation school; if you can’t afford childcare you should have thought of that before becoming a teen mom, good luck getting a babysitter while you’re trying to finish high school.” Four of the students from the continuation school had showed up with their children and their defense of the daycare program was basically (and understandably) “What the fuck you fucking ghouls we just want to finish school and it’s one fucking daycare provider on campus you already have to pay the insurance for childcare providers for other schools in the district what the fucking fuck.”

The D&D Club, GSA, and Childcare for Teen Parents Program were all allowed to continue existing.

By one vote.

By someone who had recently been elected to the school board.

By four votes.

Four people went out and voted that November. Four people filled in a bubble on a ballot.

The GSA did fundraisers to pay for STI testing and suicide prevention. My friend Michelle graduated on time with her daughter waiting in the crowd. Knowing that adult trans people could survive and exist and thrive and love themselves was lifesaving information for a few kids in the GSA.

Four votes. If four people stayed home that’s a hundred fewer STI tests, that’s wondering if Michelle would ever be able to get a job when she didn’t have a diploma and couldn’t hire a babysitter. That’s three dead queer kids and another two homeless.

And it didn’t happen. Because four people filled in a couple of bubbles one night in November.

Voting is not activism but it is by no means useless. If your friend is incapable of distinguishing fascism and liberalism that sounds like a them problem and it sucks to be them; that amount of nihilism is hard to carry around.

People who criticize leftists for “electoral apologism” or whatever for voting are the “yet you participate in society, curious. I am very intelligent” comic

Yeah, the system’s shitty. Yeah, it sucks and should be overthrown. But it’s not overthrown YET so we may as well take advantage of the few areas of harm reduction the system allows. Voting doesn’t mean you STOP doing direct action or that you stop pushing for change, it just means you’re doing the single easiest real-world thing to alleviate suffering. And if it doesn’t work who gives a fuck - you did the bare minimum and it cost you a small amount of time.

Vote and then go hand out food in the park or cut the valve stems off a cop car if you’re feeling angsty about conceding to the system.

(also FUCK, you have no idea how much I hate having to defend the Obama administration but please go talk to a trans person about whether it is easier or harder to get healthcare in their state under Trump or under Obama. I fucking hate liberals but I don’t think that they’re actively interested in overturning Roe V. Wade. Fuck this political purity culture and go learn about harm reduction.)

[skalidra]

I’m a big fan and hoping to trouble you for advice. If writing complex or dysfunctional families, do you ever have readers who get *too* invested? As in, pushing for character bashing and a protagonist to just burn bridges? I’m glad I got an emotional response and ppl resonate with the conflict, but I’m trying for shades of grey here. It’s uncomfortable and I feel like I’ve misrepresented or poorly conveyed the story, and folks who are so avidly invested will be disappointed :(

Yes. Yes oh my god.

So, this is slightly different but this issue is actually the reason that I stopped writing the Jason in Arkham series, and eventually shut down comments on it entirely a few weeks ago.

For those unaware, JiA featured Jason having, as the name implies, a real bad time in Arkham, and no one noticing for too long (for a variety of reasons) so you had a highly traumatized Jason when he did get rescued. (And I was going to go into the recovery, and etc, but...)

People hated Dick in that story. Hated him, and screamed at him in the comments, and were vindictively gleeful about his pain when he realized that he'd messed up, and so on. No one seemed to care why he made the mistakes he did, or about how things looked from any perspective except Jason's, or the explanations of how he (and anyone else, but they didn't get the same vitriol) could have let something so awful happen.

Being the writer, I knew all those explanations, and it felt like every time someone came in looking to crucify Dick, I had to gather up all those reasons and go defend him. It was exhausting. It sucked. Every time I saw an email about a comment on those stories I hoped it wouldn't be yet-another person raging at him. It killed all enjoyment and interest I had in writing that series.

So I shut it down. It's the one thing that I've decided, even though it's not 'done,' that I'll never go back to. And a few weeks ago, after yet-another 'but why did you stop???' comment from yet-another person incapable of reading the numerous answers I'd already given in response to other comments, I finally turned off the comments on those stories entirely. I'll never have to talk about, think about, or engage with that series again, and honestly I'm relieved as fuck about that. I wish I'd done it years ago.

So, ask yourself a few things. (Little bit of guesswork here, because I can only infer what your story is about.)

First, are you enjoying writing the story? (If no, stop. It is not worth it if you're not having fun. Period.)

Is it something you could maybe fix with added tags? A blatant 'Reconciliation' or 'Unhealthy Choices' or something, if that's the way you plan for it to go, or some opposite tags, if not? (At that point, it's their fault for not reading what they were getting into. Rest easy.)

Do the characters' behaviors make sense to you? (It's most important that the story works for you. Everyone has different interpretations and reactions to shades-of-grey situations like that. Sometimes people make shitty choices or fall back into situations that are clearly unhealthy for them from an outside perspective, for a variety of reasons. Sometimes there is no clear 'moral' one in a situation. Sometimes there's no clear cut answer at all. None of these things are unrealistic, even if they may not be what readers 'want' in their specific emotional catharsis.)

If you want to be absolutely sure people understand what kind of story they're reading, you can put it in an author's note, too. People tend to be blind, but at that point they've been warned so like, oh well.

I am personally of the opinion that stories should be for the writer, and everyone else should come in secondary. So, I wouldn't worry about disappointing people, as long as you feel like you've made it relatively clear what kind of story it is. (Fuck people who don't understand. You know, kindly.)

If you still feel like people don't understand, or you're worried that you haven't gotten the balance quite right, maybe read back through what you've posted so far. Take a look from the other side and see if you can figure out where people are getting that intense investment in the outcome from. Maybe there's something small you can edit or add here or there that might help guide people towards that middle ground. Hints of equally messed up behavior on the part of the protagonist, or sweeter/kind scenes to balance out the unhealthy bits of the relationship, or something. Getting that balance can be tricky, definitely.

(I know this is a super uncomfortable thought, but you can also ask people to stop. A 'Hey I know you're invested but this type of comment makes me uncomfortable, please tone it down' could work wonders, even if it can be hard to be confrontational like that. Stating your desires, on your work, is something you are fully within your rights to do.)

At the end of the day, it's your story. What you do with it and how you choose to advertise it are your choice. If people don't like the way it went, they've got a great back button they can use.

(Good luck, Anon. I hope any of that rambling helped. If you want to ask anything else, feel free.)

[snaddyx]

A/N: This is literally the first NSFW anything I've written, so PLEASE let me know what you think! I'd love to improve in any way I can. No real warnings apply to this, there's some light bondage, degradation- nothing too crazy.

~~~~~

The heels of your boots clicked down the hall of the dungeons, matching the pace of your racing heart while you made your way to Professor Snape's office for the sixth night this week. You could have sworn that he was making up work for you to do as a small way of torturing you for merely existing. But you had decided that you would not give up, not this far into working with the potions master. This was your second year as his assistant at Hogwarts and it was already proving to be harder than the last. 

The school year started nearly a month ago. At first, he ignored you much to your chagrin. You thought that after the events of last year, you had finally moved past him brushing you off and sneering at you. That maybe your working relationship could now at least be civilized. You shuddered at the thought of last year - images of Severus limping into your office one night with desperation in his eyes. You had stood from your desk, looking down to see a gash across his leg that was bleeding profusely. You still weren't sure why he hadn't gone straight to Madame Pomfrey to tend his injuries after he had thrown himself in front of Professor Lupin when he had tried to attack students as a werewolf. You tenderly treated his wound with healing magic, potions and salves before finally helping him to your bed. You stayed up all night monitoring him - you knew he would be fine, but you worried. 

After that, he had acted kinder towards you. It was his way of thanking you. But then you left for the summer break and everything had returned to normal when you arrived two weeks before term started. Determined to break through his rough exterior and see that side of him again, you had decided to keep pressing him, continued to be kind to him. You were resolved to become his respected colleague. You hoped to be his friend. And the butterflies you got when touching him, lightly caressing his thigh as you applied a healing salve to avoid scarring - the small grunts he made that didn't entirely sound like they were from pain - electricity shot down your spine and to your core... Maybe you wanted to break through to him in deeper ways. But he hadn't acknowledged anything that passed between you, and now you were back to square one. 

Until you had called him out in front of the second years in class six days ago. He had disrespected you in front of them and you had hit your boiling point. His eyes turned black, angry, and he dismissed the glass with a low and dangerous "Get. Out."  He brushed passed you then, storming out of the classroom leaving you to clean up and teach the next class. You received an owl at dinner that night with a letter scrawled out to you. 

My office, 7:00. Do not be late. 

And it had been so every night since - except tonight. Tonight, the note said to arrive at 9:00. So you did, at 9:00pm sharp, and entered the open door to his office with your shoulders back, chin high. Whatever tedious task you were assigned tonight would be done without complaint. 

"Shut the door," Snape said without looking up from the homework on his desk. 

You did as requested and approached his desk quietly. Sat in the chair across from him. Waited. 

"Sir?" 

Nothing. You sighed and sat back in your chair, crossing your legs. His eyes snapped up from his grading at the sound and lingered on your face before his gaze slowly went down to your chest, your legs, then back up again. 

"It's rude to stare, sir," you leaned forward again and propped your elbows on his desk and smirked. "What do you require of me tonight?" 

"I would like," he finally replied, "for you to transfer the ingredients from those jars to those jars." He waved at the ingredients across his office and resumed grading the papers. You scoffed and didn't move. 

"I believe that is all the instruction you require, is it not, Miss Y/N?" 

"Yes sir." 

"And are you incapable of standing to complete this task?" 

"No sir."

"Then why are you. still. sitting. here?" Each word punctuated, venomous. 

"Because this is a foolish task, Professor." You had spent the past six nights completing similar tasks, and when you had finished one there was another one lined up. It was a waste of time. "Do you not think that I am more than capable of assisting elsewhere?"

Snape slammed his hands on his desk and stood up, the legs of his chair scraping the floor as it flew back. 

"Do not speak out of turn! It may have escaped your notice, but you are my assistant, you are here to assist me." His brows were furrowed together and he leaned over his desk towards you.

"That may be true, sir, but it may have escaped your notice that I am qualified to do more than just silly tasks to pass the time. Why do you insist that I am here as just some fucking girl that you can ogle and abuse your power on. Does the potions master title feed your ego that much, that you feel the need to degrade me at every chance you get?"

Snape's eyes turned dark with anger as you spoke, but you didn't give a shit. You were tired of this, past your limits of what you could take and still respect yourself. If he wasn't willing to work with you, respect you enough to lend you even a speck of decency, then you didn't know where you were going with this. When you were finished talking, he recoiled away from you with a look of disgust. 

"That you have the audacity," Snape replied with a low voice, his fingers dragging on his desk as he began walking around it, "to speak to me in such a way-"

"The same could be said for you, Professor," you cut him off. You lifted your chin into the air as you held his eye contact, but backed away as he got closer to you. With every step you took back, he followed. 

"You insolent little witch!" Snape leaned down to your eye level as he spoke. "Always parading around like you own the place, demanding more respect when you have not earned it!" 

"Have I not?! I've been working as your assistant for a year now, and yet you still treat me like a bug on the bottom of your shoe. And after I helped you last year, I thought-"

"Thought what, exactly? That I would bow to you, my savior?" 

"No. That maybe things would change, that you would be able to acknowledge whatever this tension is between us because I know that there is more to it than just disdain. And you are too cowardly to admit it." You took another step back, turning to the door. "Fuck you, Severus. I don't know why I've bothered."

You reached the door and opened it, prepared to exit, but you heard his footsteps approach you quickly. His hand reached around your head and slammed the door shut, the other arm coming around your other side to lock it. You were pinned in between him and the door, heart beating in your throat, and you spun to face him. He leaned down once again to eye level. You could feel his hot breath against your neck and the smell of him... Merlin, did he smell divine. 

"Fuck you, she says. Yes, that's exactly it, isn't it? Don't you dare act as though I am the only one ogling here, Y/N. Yes, I heard those filthy thoughts when you mended my leg. I felt your desperation seeping from you." He stood straight then and grasped the back of your neck, dragging you beside him back to his desk. "Every day I must suffer those thoughts."

He shoved you towards the desk and spun you around, facing away from him. His hand pushed you down so your face was pressed into the cool wood. 

"Is this what you want, Y/N?" He pressed himself into your behind and you could feel his length against you. "Is this what you have been so desperate for?" You tried to stand back up but he pushed you down again. His belt rattled as he took it off, as he tied your hands with it behind your back. 

"So desperate for my approval, my respect, my cock." He chuckled lowly. You felt your skirt being lifted, exposing your ass to him. Heat rose in your face. "Just lovely," he praised as his calloused hand rubbed the now exposed skin, "and all for me."

He leaned down to your ear and whispered, "Count." 

You tried to turn back to look at him, to ask what he meant, when his hand came down and made sharp contact with your skin. 

"Severus, please," you yelped as his hand came down again. 

"Count!" 

"One," slap. 

"Two," slap. 

"This is what disrespectful witches deserve," he sneered at you as his hand came down again and again. By the tenth slap you were whimpering. "Enjoying this, are we?"

Snape pulled you up by the belt just enough for him to reach around and rip open the buttons of your blouse. His hand went under your bra and pulled your breasts out before he roughly pinched your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled you up some more, giving him leverage to reach around to your heat. His fingers slipped between your folds and began rubbing circles around your clit. 

"Already so wet for me," he whispered into your ear. He nibbled at your neck and earlobe. "I need you to tell me you want this." 

You nodded eagerly, but it wasn't enough. He pinched your nipple hard. 

"Use your words." 

"Yes, please."

"Please what?"

"Please, sir."

He pushed you back down onto the desk and lined himself up with your entrance before pushing his cock in, not giving you time to adjust to his length. You both let out a low moan as he slowly pulled back out, quickly plunged back in. 

"My little slut," he grunted as he pushed all the way into your dripping cunt. "You belong to me." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Tell me." 

"I belong to you." You breathed out. With every pump, your hips hit against the desk and you let out a cry of pain and pleasure. Severus splayed his fingers in your hair before grabbing onto a handful and pulling it. His his snapped into you, quicker and quicker. 

"So tight for such a little slut," grunted out between thrusts. "Is this what you wanted? Taking my cock on my desk, writhing under me."

You moaned back in response, feeling yourself getting close. Teetering on the edge of coming, you clenched around him. 

"You don't come until I say you can come, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." 

You struggled not to as his breathing became erratic as his hips kept snapping against you, his balls slapping against the back of your thighs. He once again reached around to rub circles around your clit. Your hands grasped the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as you groaned from the pleasure. His low moans filled the air, making you throb on his dick even more, your body threatening to tumble over the edge. The heat was rising in your core, the familiar feeling becoming overwhelming. 

"Come for me," he demanded. Your body pulsed with the waves of your orgasm as you climaxed, your walls slamming down around his cock. You cried out with each wave of pleasure.

"Fuck, Severus!"

 "What a good little whore, coming all over my cock," he praised you as you came down from your climax. He kept pumping into you but you could feel he was close. 

He pulled out of you after a few more thrusts, pulled on the belt around your hands and dragged you to the floor. He pumped his cock in one hand, the other on the desk behind you, before streams of cum shot out onto your face and dropped down onto your chest. He tucked himself back into his pants before wiping up his cum with his thumb and wiping it along the inside of your bottom lip, marking you. 

"Clean yourself up and get out. I will see you tomorrow night at 9:00."

[honey-im-hotdog]

You’re My Home

Ronald Speirs x reader

Author’s Note: She may be depressed folks, but she’s still able to write garbage! I am completely in love with this fucker so here’s a little snippet from ONE of my daydream scenarios for Speirs (cause I’ve got three whole ass ocs and daydreams going on at the same time for this bitch, it’s the ✨mental illnesses✨ sis). Enjoy ;)

Obviously this is based on the HBO miniseries, no disrespect to the actual guys.

As always, reader is supposed to be gn+vague, so if you catch any mistakes related to that please let me know.

Word Count: 0.7k I’m incapable of writing anything longer 😭

Warnings: Cheessyyyy, ooc sparky?, me trying to be romantic but failing idk, the wrong use of the word “incite” (I spent like 5+ minutes on thesaurus.com trying to find a better word but couldn’t so deal with it), probably bad uwu

Summary: You tell Ron he’s your home. (Lol this summary is so cringy 💀)

god it was so hard choosing a gif I got too busy just looking at them all and then to top it off he had to look fine as fuck in all of them 😭😭 it’s not fair!!

Germany had surrendered. Victory in Europe had passed by you months ago. You should have been home, but instead here you are, in the beautiful town of Zell Am See, waiting to go to the Pacific. Waiting to go to war again.

You, actually, have enough points to go home; you don’t need to go to the other side of the world to continue fighting in this damn war, not anymore. But how do you leave your men—your friends—behind? You don’t want to stay, but what home are you supposed to return to? What home do you go back to when home has become something new?

“You’ve decided, haven't you?”

You’re currently standing at the desk in Ron’s room, while he sits at the foot of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, and his lips pressed against them. You can tell by the look on his face, a mix of apprehension and determination staining his features. You can also guess what decision he’s come to exactly.

He isn’t looking at you, his solomun eyes cast downwards. You can count on one hand the amount of times he’s shied away from meeting your eyes, so this further solidifies what you’re sure he’s about to utter next.

“I’m staying.” Your breath hitches for a second, but you aren’t really surprised. “The, uh, the men need someone to guide them an—”

“Ron,” your gentle voice shuts him up. It’s the understanding seeping through the single word that finally has him looking up at you. “I understand, honey.” Your smile surprises him.

“Yeah?” You’ve only heard his voice sound this soft occasionally.

You know he’s worried about you, regarding him wanting to stay behind and keep fighting the war. He doesn’t want you to go to the Pacific, but he also doesn’t want to let you go. Not now that you two have finally gotten together, not now after you two spent the last three years dancing around each other.

Not now that you’re finally his.

“Darling,” you cross the room and sit next to him, your body pressing into his side. You start to speak but let out a heavy sigh and take his hand instead. After a beat of silence, you continue, “ever since the rumors about the Pacific started a while ago, I had a feeling you’d wanna stay. As much as I don’t like it. It’s obvious you were made to be in the military,” you add a little laugh at the end, which incits a tiny quirk of his lips in return, before he looks down at your intertwined fingers. “And as much as I hate the idea of continuing fighting, I’m going to stay as long as you will.”

He’s quick to start protesting. “No. You have to go hom—”

“Ron, I’m not going home,” you get his attention again. “There isn’t a home left for me back there. These past three years I’ve realized something: home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling,” you duck your head a little to the side to make sure he’s looking at you, “and that feeling for me is you, Ron. I’ll go wherever you go.” You hold his gaze for a second before adding in a warm whisper, “I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

He whispers your name back in disbelief, but you can hear the underlying happiness in his voice.

“Ronald Speirs,” you begin, moving off of the bed.

“No,” he shakes his head, finally smiling, “no, I’m supposed to be doing this.” He moves to grab something from his pocket but you press your hands over his and get down before him.

“Yeah well, I’m beating you to it, Sparky.” You grin wide and look up at him, “Ronald Spei—”

“Will you marry me?”

“Ron!” You fall back onto your heels with a huff, “that’s not fair!” Your whine draws out a laugh from him.

He slides off of the bed and kneels with you, “c’mon baby, say you’ll marry me.”

“No.” You pout and cross your arms, turning your head to the left.

He moves towards you and hugs you close to his chest, “okay fine, I’m sorry. I’ll let you ask me.”

“No.”

He lets out a chuckle and drops his head onto your shoulder. “Ask me. Please.”

After a second’s pause, you turn to face him. You gently cup his cheeks and ask, “Ronald Speirs, will you marry me?”

“Yeah,” his breathy response comes in an instant. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so freely. “Yeah, I’ll marry you, darling.”