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soaps-mohawk · 3 months ago

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I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

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flemingsfreckles · 2 months ago

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Ol’ College Try (18+) Pt. 2

Part 1 HERE

Warnings: smut, strap sucking (slight mention gagging), mention of oral sex (r receiving), strap on sex (r receiving), language

WC: 2.6k

A/N: if you saw this posted before… no you didn’t 🫣 I’m reposting it because tumblr didn’t want to tag it… anyways enjoy

The two of you continued to “practice”, not finding much success in terms of getting you to reach orgasm without the help from Jessie’s fingers or mouth after the fact. You tried using a vibrator, it just got in the way most of the time, frustrating you more when the thrust from Jessie’s hips would bump it from your hand. The two of you had tried using the toy not attached to the harness, Jessie’s hand and arm doing the work, still no luck. Jessie’s persistence never wavered, she offered often to try it and you usually accepted, it was hot watching her fuck you, your body just wasn’t on the same page.

“Would you maybe want to try a different position?” Jessie says as she was kneeled between your thighs as you laid back on the bed, the toy resting on your stomach as once again you had been unable to finish with the new toy. The two of you had stuck with missionary for the most part, or some variation of it, thinking it would be the easiest, as it was what most people considered the basic position.

“I’ve uh, I’ve read that sometimes the girl, or I guess, you, since we’re both girls, if you’re in control it can feel better.” Jessie looks down toward your stomach where the toy rested, aggressively avoiding eye contact with you.

You feel a smirk grow on your face placing her chin between your thumb and index finger and you pull her face up to see she’s sporting a blush. “You’ve been doing research?” You genuinely are asking but your tone comes out as if you’re teasing her.

“Stop.” She shakes her head away from your grip, shying into her own chest. “It’s not funny.”

“No, Jessie, I wasn’t making fun of you.” She doesn’t budge at your words. “Babe, come on, I’m not making fun of you.” You sit up to pull her into your chest. “If anything, it’s sort of hot that you bothered researching for me.”

“I just want to make you feel good. It’s pissing me off that I’m not good at this!” Perfectionist, that was one way to describe Jessie, that’s what made her such a good student, it’s also what made her so good on the football pitch, she worked until she could do something right and then worked harder to make it perfect.

“Babe,” you grab her hands holding them in yours. “I love you, and I love that you want me to feel good, but how many times do I have to tell you, you are what makes me feel good, not some silicone tube.” You gesture to her waist. “You make me feel plenty good without it.”

“Well I want to make you feel good with it too.” Jessie huffs, pulling back from you and sliding off the bed. She undoes the strap with much more grace than the first few times, letting it drop with a thud to the ground. She throws on her shirt before following it with her shorts. “I’m going to make lunch.” She mumbles before walking out of the door, closing it with a little bit of aggression behind her.

Shocked by the way she got up and left, you stare at the closed door for a moment before looking down at your stomach where traces of lube covered your stomach. You roll your eyes, a little annoyed by Jessie’s outburst, frustrated that she up and left you still naked in the bed. Sitting up you slide off the bed and make your way into the bathroom, cleaning yourself up with a washcloth before changing into some comfortable clothing. Jessie turns to look at you as the bedroom door opens and you step out, her expression filled with guilt.

You look at her before diverting your eyes to the floor and making your way to the couch. It’s not long until you feel familiar arms wrap around your shoulders, Jessie leaning over the back of the couch to hug you from behind.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked away.” She says before planting a kiss on your cheek. “That wasn’t nice of me to leave you.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.” You turn to give her a quick peck. “And Jess, I wasn’t making fun of you, and also I think the new positions thing is a good idea.” You add quickly muttering.

You see her eyes light up slightly before she tries to hide her eagerness. “Okay, next time we’ll try it.”

That next time, came the following day. You couldn’t lie you had thought about it all night, more than you’d like to admit. The idea of Jessie putting you in different positions, her strong arms moving you around, molding you exactly how she wanted. The first few times the two of you had tried the toy, Jessie had been timid, worried about hurting you more than anything but as you continued to practice, Jessie became more comfortable, the force behind her thrusts growing, the speed increasing. You knew once the two of you started trying new positions she’d be enamored and likely start to get rougher with you and you couldn’t wait.

You wanted it to feel good, but more than that you wanted to make Jessie feel good, you wanted her to feel satisfied with her performance, you wanted to get the cocky little ego she had back. You loved seeing the smirk on her face after she’d make you fall apart. She still had half a smirk when she’d get you off with her fingers or mouth after trying with the strap but you could tell it was bothering her.

“Go put it on.” You gently pushed Jessie off of you, her head resting on your thigh. Jessie had insisted on making you cum with her mouth first. She had been sick of leaving you disappointed, despite telling her multiple times you weren’t disappointed. She was determined to get you to cum on her strap. Giving her a head start on your pleasure by having you already sensitive after your first orgasm was part of her research. It would maybe make the second one easier.

You watch as she walks over to the bag in the corner of her bedroom, grabbing out the harness and toy. She no longer hid away while putting it on, she knew you liked watching, almost making it into a show for you.

Usually you’d lay down, awaiting her to come over to the bed. This time when she came over you sat up, putting your hands out on her shoulders. “Lay down.” She had her ideas about what she wanted to try, but so did you.

“What?”

“Lay down.” You moved to the side of the bed, leaving Jessie space to lay down. Jessie looks at you for a second, blinking twice before climbing on the bed and laying down. Smiling down at Jessie you swing one thigh over her stomach straddling her waist.

“Oh.” You watch as the realization hits Jessie on why you had asked her to lay down. Her hands come to rest on your thighs, giving them an appreciative squeeze.

“Yeah baby, new positions and all, right?” You smirk down at her grinding your core down into her stomach slightly, letting your arousal dip onto her skin.

You lean down bringing your lips to Jessie’s, kissing her hard, your hands on her chest squeezing slightly. Her hands begin to run up and down your thighs, trailing around to your ass, giving you a hard squeeze. Her hands begin to aid in the grinding motion you had already started, pulling you and pushing you ever so slightly while rolling her own hips up.

You pull back after a couple minutes, lifting yourself up onto your knees to slide back closer to where the harness sat across Jessie’s hips. You hold the toy flush to Jessie’s stomach before sliding yourself even further back straddling her thighs. You look at her, then down to the toy in front of you, then back up to her before you shift again, moving to sit between her legs.

Leaning over the toy you open your mouth, letting a drop of saliva fall onto the toy. You follow down the drop of spit, bringing your lips to kiss the tip of the toy before looking up at Jessie. Lips parted slightly and eyebrows raised Jessie looked surprised by your actions. “Can I?” You ask, looking down at the toy again.

Nodding wordlessly Jessie gives you permission.

You stick your tongue out, swirling it around the tip of the toy. You watch as Jessie’s eyebrows raise at your actions. The silicone slides easily over your tongue, your lips coming to wrap around the tip. Slowly sinking down you take more of the toy into your mouth, for a moment closing your eyes, only focusing on breathing through your nose.

When you open your eyes and look up to Jessie she’s got her bottom lip between her teeth. You can practically see the lust and attraction in Jessie’s face, the way she’s looking down at you, a mix of a smirk and surprise. “That’s, you look so hot.” she stutters out as her hand comes to the top of your head, not pushing you down but just resting her hand on the back of your head.

You let her revel in the visual that you were providing her for a few more moments, working up and down the toy, coating it in your saliva. Feeling a rush of confidence you try to move your mouth further down, accidentally pushing yourself too far, gagging on the tip of the toy and immediately pulling off coughing slightly.

“Are you okay?” Jessie says, sitting up abruptly, her hand now holding tight into your hair holding you up and away from the strap.

“Yeah.” You wipe your chin that had become covered in your own spit. You feel your cheeks start to heat up feeling embarrassed as you look at Jessie’s face that was full of concern. “Sorry, I thought maybe you’d like watching.”

“I did, that was very hot.” Jessie says her hands coming to cup your face, she slowly pulls you up from between her legs so your back straddling her waist, she meets you halfway kissing you passionately.

“I’d take it you didn’t come across that in your researching?” You tease Jessie when she breaks the kiss.

“Shut up.” She playfully rolls her eyes. You give her one more quick kiss before your hand finds the strap between your bodies. You lift yourself up again, moving now so you hover over the tip of the toy. Jessie’s hand comes to grab the base holding it before running the head through your folds a few times. “Ready?” She says as she lets the tip rest against your entrance.

“Yeah, but I got it, you just lay back.” Your hand meets hers taking the toy from her grip. She lets go, reluctantly, and you slowly sink down. You let out a moan of appreciation at the feeling. It was similar to when Jessie had been on top, but something about this felt more filling. It was more sensitive, still feeling the effects of Jessie’s skillful tongue. You don’t immediately start moving, instead leaning down to kiss Jessie’s cheek before moving your mouth to her ear. “Just enjoy the show baby.”

Your hands come to her chest, supporting yourself as you begin to lift up, starting slowly letting yourself get used to the feeling, getting used to the movement. “Oh fuck.” You whine at the feeling of fullness as your hips meet Jessie’s again.

“You look so beautiful baby.” Jessie says, looking up at you, her hands come up, each wrapping around your breast. She has a dumbfounded look on her face as she watches you, part of her gaze made you feel confident, she was looking up in awe at you. The other part of your brain wanted to shy away from the intensity of her eyes. “So sexy riding me.” She emphasizes her words with a squeeze to each side, her thumbs caressing your nipples letting them harden under her touch.

You shake your head at her action. “No baby, you’re just enjoying the view.” You say taking her hands off your chest and pinning them on the bed beside her head. You keep your hands on hers, keeping her on the bed with your weight. It takes a few seconds but you quickly become comfortable riding her in this new position. You love watching her as her eyes trail down to your chest, bouncing more with the new leaned over angle.

After just a few thrusts at the new angle you can tell it feels different, it feels better, the way the toy was rubbing inside of you was pleasant. “Fuck, this feels good babe.”

“Yeah?” You begin to see a small sliver of cockiness showing through as she smiles up at you.

“Yeah.” You let out a deep moan after responding. “Your dick feels so good Jess.” Jessie groans at your words. The longer you move up and down, the more comfortable you become, starting to speed up. The sound of your skin slapping together echoing the room, accompanied by whines of pleasure from your own mouth.

That is until you accidentally lift yourself up too far, the head of the toy falling out and flat onto Jessie’s stomach. Not realizing quick enough when you go to lower yourself you’re met with the disappointing feeling of emptiness. You let out a noise of frustration before lifting yourself up again.

“Sorry.” You mutter, your hand blindly reaching between your legs for the toy, fumbling around for a moment you feel the slight embarrassment creeping back in from earlier. “This is harder than it looks.”

“It’s fine baby, here, let me help.” Jessie brings a hand onto your thigh, helping to support some of your weight while her other moves to the toy, teasing you with it before she places the head at your entrance. “There.” You sink down onto her again, feeling relieved at the sudden full feeling.

You feel her suddenly thrust her hips up slowly, in time with your own movements. “Jess.” You say trying to warn her, she was supposed to be watching.

“I want to fuck you, please?” She begs looking up at you with pleading eyes.

You debate making her wait longer, but the wide eyed stare you were receiving always made you weak. You couldn’t turn her down especially when all she wanted to do was bring you pleasure. You nod down at her “Okay baby, go ahead.”

Jessie wastes no time thrusting her hips upward, jolting your body and making a surprised scream fall from your lips. She meets each of your bounces with a thrust of her own, giving it more force. She continues thrusting up into you, her speed increasing. “Fuck, babe, so good.”

Her hands come around to your back now, wrapping them around you, she pulls you down so your chest is against hers. You’re now unable to move yourself but Jessie continues to bounce her hips up into you. Digging her feet into the mattress, Jessie angles her hips giving her more leverage to fuck into you. The sound of her thighs slapping your own fills the room.

That’s when you start feeling it build. The all too familiar tightness in your core. You tuck your head into Jessie’s shoulder, panting into her ear. “Jess, Jess please.”

One of her hands now gripped your ass, moving your hips with her strength to meet her equally powerful thrusts but leaving you completely out of control. “What baby?” She says breathlessly into your ear as her other hand comes between your bodies, her finger tips finding your clit.

“Don’t stop, I’m gonna cum.” You bite down on her shoulder as your legs begin to shake and the feeling of pleasure washes over your body. It’s a different sensation, one that feels deeper, more intense as you feel yourself tighten around the strap.

Jessie keeps thrusting, her grip on you is tight as she helps you through the overwhelming feeling. She praises you, planting hot, open mouthed kisses on your neck. When your whines begin to die down, Jessie slows, giving you a few more long thrusts before just grinding up into you.

“Fuck.” You whisper, finally feeling your brain come down from floating in the clouds. Bringing your hands to Jessie’s hips should stall her grinding motion.

“You alright?” Jessie murmurs into your neck where her head still remains.

“Yeah.” You let out a small laugh. “Yeah I’m good, I’m really good.” Pulling your head out from the crook of her neck you look up to see the cocky smile you had been missing. “What?”

“Nothing.” Jessie says defensively before biting back her smirk. You bring your head back into her neck. Your lips plant soft kisses along her neck and collarbone, showing her your affection. She traces soft lines along your back with her fingers and the two of you lay for a couple minutes, just the feeling of each other and the sounds of your breathing.

”Well I think your research was right.” You admit when you finally press yourself up, the toy is still deep inside of you.

“Yeah I think it was.” Cocky smile still perched on Jessie’s lips and she looks at you.

“You want to show me what else you learned from your research?”

“I’d love to.” Jessie gives you a kiss on the lips, letting it linger for a moment as she pulls your bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a slight bite before releasing it. Her hands find your hips and give a quick pat. “Get up and get on your hands and knees.”

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader #jessie fleming smut

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judgeanon · 18 days ago

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So About That BATGIRL #1...

I put this review up in another site, but since folks here on Tumblr seem to be realizing I have a lot of Thoughts about Lady Shiva, I figured I'd transplant it here. So here's how I feel about it. The short of it is that I think it's a strong start with a few small quibbles because I'm not sure how much of Shiva's writing is her being intentionally OOC and how much is Brombal trying to humanize her.

The long is here:

Now, one of Shiva's main issues as a character ever since they finally split her from the League of Assassins (God bless you Bryan Hill) is that, instead, writers have stapled her to Cass. Literally every major Shiva appearance since 2017 has involved Cass in some way. That is a problem not so much for Cass, who gets to have her own stories and series with and without the Batfam (although mostly with), but for Shiva, who doesn't get nearly as much exposure as her daughter. If there's a Shiva comic coming out, odds are it's gonna have something to do with Cass. Well, except for the other Shiva comic coming out this month that's gonna suck shit.

But at the same time, I don't think that means nobody should ever do another Shiva/Cass story, because I still feel like that's rich soil that nobody has had the time, space or desire to really commit to mining. Hill in Outsiders was writing a whole ensemble cast and couldn't linger too long on them. Writers like Grayson and Cloonan/Conrad both teased Shiva trying to reconcile with Cass but never took it anyhwere. A Shiva/Cass story can still be compelling and interesting as long as the writer is willing and able to Actually Write It.

So when literally the first panel of this new issue is Shiva addressing Cass and their relationship directly, I'm already perked up. Right from the get go, you can tell that Tate Brombal is absolutely here to tell a story about these two women and pretty much nothing else, and also that Tak Miyazawa and Mike Spicer are a killer art team. I adore how hard Tak's figures look without (usually) being stiff, thanks to some solid body language and expressions. And Spicer's colors have a cool kind of dark-but-vivid look. The last leg of the issue, with everything illuminated by fire, is especially cool.

Going back to the opening, it's curous how despite this being an issue #1, there's very little in the way of character introductions or set up. There's no slow burn here, no lengthy creeping intro like previous Shiva/Cass stories. And while I can't help but feel that it must be a little awkward for readers unfamiliar with them or their current situation, I think it also accurately reflects one of my favorite parts of the comic, which is Cass' being just absolutely fucking DONE with her mom.

After years of hyper dramatic standoffs and tearful moments of cheap heartbreak, it's fun to see a Cass who has no time for her mother, who's not interested in what she's got going on, and who's confident enough in herself to even be a little shit about it. It's fun and refreshing and fits Cass very nicely.

That not-quite-breakneck but still fast pace keeps up when the Unburied show up after just a few pages of setup and you know, in a couple of interviews, Brombal mentioned being influenced by Daredevil. And this is the page that made me go "Ah, yeah, that tracks." 'cause brother, those are some MILLER-ass ninjas.

Why Shiva fears these guys or thinks Cass can't handle them is not yet explained, but her desperation to keep Cass around does lead to a small but very meaning-heavy moment: the first punch in this series is not thrown into the face of the new enemies, but it's Cass decking her mom in the face and Shiva loving it.

It's an excellent touch and a perfect mission statement about the series. I love it as much as I love the ensuing fight, full of cool moves in big and small panels, but the most fun thing to me is how it's choreographed as Cass fighting her mom almost as much as she's fighting the Unburied. And on top of being a great fight, it ends with a small nod to QUESTION #1 or the 'Tec '88 Annual, in case I was somehow not sold enough already.

And while I still love Cass being so willing to call Shiva out on her lies, it does bring up one of the small gripes I have with this issue: I don't like it when Shiva lies constantly. I think she's best when she's strong and confident enough to not need to lie, when she just lays everything out on the table the way this comic is almost doing. It's good for Cass, as it keeps showing her as someone who has grown to understand her mother, who sees Shiva for who she is and what she does. And it does set up a slightly heartwarming scene at the end.

Of course, that's personal preferrence, and I'm not gonna say this is a bad comic because it doesn't follow my own idea of what works best for Shiva, especially since it's clear that Brombal is writing her with a lot of intention here. But that leads to the other big-ish issue I have with this issue: it's a bit hard to tell, from this story alone, how much of these moments are Brombal building his own personal version of Shiva and how much of it is Shiva, in-universe, acting out of character for the sake of some hidden scheme. After all, Cass points out that twice in the issue Shiva backs down, first from a moral fight and then from an actual fight.

So it's possible that even the constant lying is Shiva playing a role in favor of a grander scheme which will be revealed in later issues. Which, fair enough, I'm willing to see where it goes. But that second moment of yielding does lead to what's maybe my biggest problem with BATGIRL #1, and it's the Unburied themselves.

There's nothing in that initial fight with the Unburied that suggests Shiva and Cass would've had trouble dealing with them. Hell, there's very little to suggest even one of them would've had trouble with them. Now, I'm not suggesting that this issue should've started with the titular character and her mom getting their asses handed to them. But it feels like there's just not enough to these new enemies yet to justify the escape. Ninjas show up, Cass and Shiva beat them without getting hit once, more Ninjas show up and Shiva self-defenestrates herself.

Again, entirely possible that Shiva has something up her sleeve here, and issue #2 did promise to show us the main villain behind them, but as it stands it leaves me with this weird mix of not quite intrigue, not quite disappointment. It's just odd. They could've had, I dunno, a bomb set in the building or some other reason for Shiva to exit the venue like that.

Speaking of odd things, however, I did NOT expect to be reading a comic that brings up Shiva's cult from Puckett/Scott's BATGIRL #25. It's an "Order of Shiva" now though, with chapters and temples and stuff. Which is a bit of a change, since back in #25 they came off more like a gang of fanboys than an order of servants or anything like that. And after being summarily disposed by Shiva in that same issue, they were never really explored again.

So this is Brombal not just bringing back a bit of old lore, but also shifting it slightly, turning it into a more organized group... and then summarily disposing of them one panel later.

Also, I don't know what it is but I *LOVE* this panel. Shiva's face, her "wut" pose, the O.O, it's just... beautiful.

Anyway, once they're in the temple for the last bit of the issue, I start to see a bit more of what Brombal's doing. Like Gail Simone and Bryan Hill, Brombal seems to want to soften Shiva up a little, to make it clear that deep inside, she does have at least a bit of a heart, or enough of it to feel sadness at the wasteful death of people she may feel like she owes something to. Compare it to BIRDS OF PREY #62 for example:

This one is not quite as dramatic or vulnerable, but it's clear that Brombal wants to write Shiva with a slightly more human heart. Which, again, I'm not opposed to but I don't think it's the best thing you can do with her. I prefer Shiva being more detached in regards to death, like the most she'll do is see it as a waste but she's not gonna get emotional about it, she's going to be way more matter-of-fact. Death happens and such. But I think that kind of aloofness often gets interpreted as monstrous disdain for life by writers trying to make Shiva into a villain, and if I had to choose between what Brombal's doing and what, well, what Tom King's probably gonna be doing in a few weeks, I'll take this anytime.

Anyway, I also didn't expect to see the apprentice from BATGIRL #26, having apparently gotten a promotion somewhere in the last 20 years. Good for him! Less good for him is the shitload of arrows he eats two pages later but oh well.

The last couple of pages lead to a nice moment of sheer badassery for both Shiva and Cass and one last showcase of Miyazawa and Spicer's glorious team effort. Those two work really well together and I'm excited to see more of them in future issues. And while we're at it, I gotta give props to Miyazawa for being one of maybe two artists to draw a visibly older Lady Shiva.

His version isn't just aged but hardened by that age, looking stern and determined without having to rely on gritted teeth or angry looks. And on top of all that, he still finds more than enough moments to give her the kind of cocky smiles that bring out the more playful side of Shiva that some stories tend to either gloss over or turn into outright sadism.

Man... I just love to see that momma smile.

Other than that, there's a couple of minor quibbles I have with the issue. There's a funny moment where Cass pulls a Batman on her own mother (who charmingly acknowledges Bruce's influence) but it's undercut by Cass poofing back into existence on the next page. And there's also the weird, almost surreal emptiness of the city around them. Even after a building explodes, there's literally nobody on the streets other than Shiva and Cass.

On one hand, it speaks to the intentions of this run. This is VERY much a two-woman show so far, with no room for much else. But it's still glaring enough to be distracting.

However, it's that intentionality that ultimately wins me over. Even with all my personal little issues with Shiva's characterization, it's obvious from the start that this is a writer who is genuinely trying to write her as a character, who is ready to engage with her and with her relation with Cass on a deeper level than just hero and villain, or good daughter and evil mom.

Brombal, Miyazawa & Spicer have put some meat on the grill, and although I don't think the biggest pieces are there yet... I'm ready to let them cook.

#DC #Comics #Batgirl #Lady Shiva #Cassandra Cain #Tate Brombal #Tak Miyazawa #Mike Spicer #takeshi miyazawa #Comic Reviews #Wu-Tang Clan intro voice: TIGER STYLE #TIGER STYLE

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toskarin · 1 year ago

Note

As someone knowledgeable about MMOs, and given the topic of SAO just came up. If you were to write a .Hack/SAO/Log Horizon style story, what kind of things would you focus on? I personally feel like there are a lot of different elements of MMO culture anyone writing about them could really delve into. So I'm curious what Tumblr user Toskarin would choose.

condensed

back when I played Perfect World, it had some empty spaces. this wasn't uncommon for mmos, and if you can name one older than 15 or so years, you can bet there were vast empty spaces on the world map that existed to pad it

but they were important! sure, they added nothing of obvious value and could cynically be read as existing just to pad travel time, but they also made the worlds feel bigger than you what you were doing in them. and more mysterious.

some friends in my guild and I got a message one day that one member was going to roll a new character and wanted help levelling. a complication: their starting zone was across the sea.

a few friends and I volunteered to swim across the sea to their zone. there were definitely easier ways to go about it, but setting out to do something just to see if it was possible seemed fun

now, they may have changed this since then, but the sea in Perfect World felt strange in a way I haven't seen any game really emulate since. the sky was a dull, and as was the fashion, everything was a bit muted. the sea itself was opaque, and when you swam under it, there was a significant amount of grey-blue terrain that seemed to stretch on forever into the fog

and of course, there was fuck all in it. nothing alive. no monsters until you got close to a shore. just vast empty sea that you swam through, only your friends' characters to break up the odd stillness of it. you probably turned the music off at this point, too, so there was only ambient sound and splashing

this is because you were supposed to fly over it, if you crossed it at all. and because there wasn't really a good centralised source of knowledge on these things, it wasn't really clear if it was entirely empty

the trip there was fine, if a bit boring and lonely. during the trip back, I accidentally clicked on something in the middle of the ocean

now, there weren't supposed to be things there. I had my friends, but I clicked on a monster, and when I swam down to look at it, I saw that it was actually an enormous sea monster

so I pinged one of the guildmates swimming with me and they thought I was lying, so I showed them, and then we repeated this several times until everyone in the group had seen this weird thing that felt like it came from a schoolyard rumour

Ancient Sea Dragon. 99,999,999 health points and none of us could find anything on it posted online. it was pretty common for players to run into it and be shocked, but we didn't know that

so we naturally let the rest of the guild know, got a hunting party together, and spent the better part of a day just whittling its health down

with the benefit of hindsight and documentation of this thing existing now, I can spoil this and tell you it didn't drop anything, but this long down the line, I still think about how deeply surreal it felt to stumble on an enormous sea monster in the middle of what my brain had come to understand as a liminal space. the sea was supposed to be mostly empty, and here was this thing

which is a very long way to introduce what I think is lacking here: we need more of those enormous empty spaces that leave characters with nothing to do but talk and feel completely isolated. sometimes you get to a sprawling castle city and it's completely empty because the players moved on. sometimes the devs threw an enormous monster in the middle of nowhere just to fuck with you, and that was kind of cool even if it sucked

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silverzoomies · 9 months ago

Text

Cunning Linguist

pietro maximoff x reader smut

warnings: cunnilingus, porn with (slight) plot, blow jobs, dissociative identity disorder, dissociation, existential crisis, smut, shameless smut, halloween, canon divergence

word count: 3,990

a/n: i meant to finish this ages ago. but i always overthink shit. i rewrote this several times, and it still doesn't feel worth posting. oh well !! just meaningless filth - same old story, different clothing. i wanted to play with the concept of pietro as an alter in ralph's head. again. lol

he's a little ooc here. but i'm blaming the brain fog. i'm running on three hours of sleep every night. fuck it, we ball. also, not including a tag list because tumblr's system kinda sucks for it. sorry !!

Pietro recalled the moment his consciousness came to light.

Agnes waved her spooky hands in his face, as though she were taunting him. She muttered incantations under her breath. The words of which Pietro didn’t recognize as English. After implanting sentimental memories in his mind - based on stories of Wanda’s childhood - she sent him off on his own. Like letting a dog loose, free to roam.

Pietro’s mission? Find Wanda, have a gabfest or two, extract information. Or something along those lines. Pietro hadn’t paid much attention while Agnes yapped about it. Why focus on that, when the mystery of his own sentience piqued his interest instead?

He was given an easy enough job to do. No problem-o. Pietro had a talent for pestering people til’ they cracked. That’s what Agnes told him, anyway. He wasn’t too sure why she wanted him to play undercover rat. It had something to do with magic. Pietro knew that much. There was some kinda witch-on-witch rivalry in the works. But unfortunately for Agnes - and maybe fortunately for Wanda - she might have to take a raincheck on her duel of the sorceresses.

Pietro could be a bit of a dipshit. Was he stupid? Not so much. He had brains where it counted. He could be crafty. Even sneaky. But his expert level slyness didn’t make him any less of an idiot. Pietro couldn’t refute that factoid about himself. Around Wanda, he forgot how to function like a normal person. Which he blamed on the fact that he wasn’t a normal person. Being brutally honest with himself; Pietro technically wasn’t even a person at all.

More like a conceptual incarnation of human sentience, really. Simple enough.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it, though - Pietro carried the irksome flaws of a human. Often, he acted thoughtless when he didn’t mean to. Without filtering himself first, Pietro unapologetically spoke his mind. He’d drop fourth-wall breaking quips here or there. Sometimes, his careless habits made for entertaining slip ups. Perfect for sitcom shenanigans. Other times, his blunders resulted in pain. Lotsa pain.

Halloween night, Pietro found himself whisked away by a forceful wave. Conjured by Wanda’s potent magic. The same power Agnes wanted her wiggly witch fingers on. After going aerial in a wild whoosh, Pietro got up close and friendly with some Halloween decorations. But, hey, what’re a few broken bones between pseudo siblings, eh?

Wanda sure had a helluva temper. She quickly banished Pietro from ever setting foot in her house again. Talk about a major bummer. Pietro suffered a huge loss on that front. One part because he’d have no choice but to crash with Agnes again. Ninety nine parts because he’d miss his troublemaking nephews. Those fun, lil scamps.

Tough luck, Quickie. Try and do better next time.

Honestly, he’d prefer if there wasn’t a next time. If Agnes wanted to make small talk so bad, she could do it on her own. Calling it quits for the night, Pietro wandered off to a Westview bar. To his surprise, he found the place still in operation. And despite Pietro’s memories - vague imagery of Busch beer cans crushed under his fist - he hadn’t had a beer since his consciousness manifested. Shit. Did he even like beer? Whether he cared for it or not, a subconscious instinct drew him to it.

He assumed that instinct was none other than Ralph himself. The poor dude wanted to drown his terror in alcohol. And after all the twisted shit Agnes put Ralph through; who was Pietro to deny him one of life's simplest pleasures?

The mellow atmosphere of the bar oozed Halloween spirit. Kinda unnecessary, in retrospect. Considering Wanda never stopped by for a drink. Why bother sprucing the place up with her wispy magic, if it never saw any use?

The bartender’s clever quips reminded Pietro of Cheers. Another totally bonkers concept. Pietro had memories of watching Cheers, sure. But he couldn’t decipher if they were Ralph’s or not. For all Pietro knew, they might be a part of the ‘dead brother’ package deal. False memories, meant to give Wanda someone to relate to. Making him liable to tear down her defenses when she least expected it.

But why did Pietro get the sense he was more of a Frasier guy anyway?

Sitting at the bar on a rickety stool, Pietro spun around to satiate his boredom. He cradled a beer, inhaling all of it in a single beat. Superspeed really did have its ups and downs. Consider quick consumption a positive. As far as negatives go…well…inebriation was completely unattainable. Sucks for Ralph. As Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer, he tuned his ears to a radio broadcast. On a shelf amidst dollar store Halloween decor; a radio droned old fashioned tales of wicked witches. Subtle.

Outside interference interrupted the broadcast. Voices intermingled between buzzes of static. Whispering soft, but panicked mantras of 'Wanda? Wanda, are you there?' Pietro narrowed his beady eyes. His ignorance of the world outside Westview should’ve stayed intact. But whatever the reason, he knew exactly where those voices came from. Why he carried such knowledge was anyone’s guess. Maybe Agnes let too much her own insight slip into his psyche. Whoopsies. Oh well. Shrugging, Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer. Deja vu.

Bored outta his mind, his thoughts explored elsewhere.

Pietro dreamt of something a little more down to earth. He remembered a cutie-pie neighbor new to Westview. A ‘next door’ kinda type, with a quirky sorta charm. They had no idea why they were in the city to begin with. Pietro knew these details, only because he gathered the what’s what on just about every person in town. It took him all of two seconds to do so. Zip around. Observe. Make mental notes. Report back to Agnes. Spill the deets.

Anyway, about you…

Call it a crush, loneliness, or even instinctive lust; whatever the case, Pietro thought you were cute as could be. You didn’t remember how you got to Westview, or where you even came from. One day, you woke up in town, and found yourself wearing unfamiliar clothes. Threads evocative of decades long past. But hey, it happens to the best of us. Pietro was well-acquainted with feelings of confusion and alienation. That mingled sense of being both lost, and born anew.

For crying out loud, he was the very materialization of sapient awareness itself. Agnes forbade him from that knowledge as well. But again, Pietro credited his oopsies and ding-dongs to her shoddy miracle work.

Whenever you questioned the reality around you, the world only stifled you into silence. The everyday citizens of Westview seemed so content with life as it was. Acting as if you had nothing to worry about. Wanda’s sitcom setup was nothing beyond sunshine, rainbows, and television tropes. But Pietro could see the unspoken terror hidden deep in their eyes. The truth Wanda kept hush hush.

Just thinking about it was enough to give Pietro the heebie jeebies. And if his intuition was anything to go by - it never proved him wrong yet - you had a bad feeling about Westview too. Way to go! You caught on even quicker than he did. Which was kinda nuts, if he thought about it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fastest at everything? ‘Cuz speed was his middle name or something. Or…well, it wasn’t. But it could be. Who’s to stop him from seizing his own destiny at this point?

Pietro Speed Maximoff.

Eh, maybe not.

In Westview, you had no friends or family. And much like Pietro, on Halloween night; you found yourself at the bar. He caught your curious gaze from down the counter. You were dolled up in a scanty, witch's dress, leaving Pietro to wonder why witches were such a recurring theme in his life. Looking too much like a manchild goober, he spun around a few more times in his seat. His sneakers kicked against the stool’s railing. No matter what, he couldn’t sit still. He thought he might be embarrassing himself. But his antics appeared to make you smile even brighter.

Tilting your head, you shot him a look of familiarity.

You weren’t familiar with him, though. But there was a chance you saw him appearing and disappearing around town. During his impromptu stake outs, more than likely.

Bringing your drink to the seam of your lips, you stifled a playful giggle. It was obvious you were gawking at his costume. Arching a brow, Pietro grinned into the rim of his beer bottle. To be fair, he looked supremely ridiculous. The blue tights under his cut-off jean shorts rode up in the crotch a little too much. He dipped his head, staring at the frayed edges of his shorts. Yeah. It was clear he did the job cutting them himself. A hasty one too. Since he was too eager to pull pranks with his nephews.

Damn. Pietro missed those kids like hell already.

The dirty blond hair/ear-things atop his head bounced every time he knocked his neck back. As Pietro downed yet another beer, he lost track of how many he drank. A dribble of it plummeted into silver. Creating a sheen against the lightning bolt duct taped diagonally down his shirt. Pietro sighed and pursed his lips.

His outfit was an all blue ensemble. Garnished with a spritz of silver here or there. Quicksilver. His hero name, apparently. Pietro knew he’d never live up to it.

A bit of friendly conversation later, and the air between the two of you shifted. Your playful look morphed into something a little wanton, the more Pietro acted in silly ways. Holy shit. Seriously? He hoped he wasn't misreading your signals. Because really, your attraction was too good to be true. If you honestly wanted him, where should he proceed from here? How much freedom had Agnes even allowed him? And furthermore - if Wanda’s happy, dream town ran on a curated schedule; what if credits rolled just as the two of you finally got handsy?

Maybe sitcom rules didn’t apply to conscious manifestations of witch hocus pocus? Wishful thinking on his part.

Outside the bar - in an alleyway too uncannily clean, like a set straight out of Hollywood - Pietro beckoned you in with kisses. Technically, he played the role of Agnes’s deadbeat husband. And if that were the case, did kissing you count as cheating? Shit…was Pietro committing adultery right now?? In the midst of macking on your sweet lips, he pressed a palm to the wall next to your head. Pietro pretended to do so for balance, as he devoured you with his mouth and tongue.

But unbeknownst to you, he cracked an eye open. Just to double check for a wedding band.

Nothing there to prove he ever got hitched. Go figure.

You giggled coyly into his lips, letting a soft moan ease through your teeth. Bringing your hands up to the hair/ear-things on his head, you toyed with them. Your pretty voice teased him, as you played with his hair in gentle strokes of your thumbs.

“Ooooh…such a good boy, huh? Fast too.” You cooed, the same way one might praise a puppy.

Oh. Fuck yeah. To hell with sitcom tropes and bogus wives. Agnes scared the ever-loving shit out of Pietro anyway. He had no semblance of a domestic connection to her. Not that she gave much of a damn herself. With how often she threw insults his way. Agnes always used Ralph as her little punching bag, before hijacking his body for her own gain.

No wonder your simple praises got his proverbial tail wagging.

A chuckle hummed in the back of his throat, as Pietro purred into your lips, “Speed’s kinda my middle name, y’know?”

You snorted one of the dorkiest laughs he’d heard since cognisant birth. And with a sudden spark of primal urgency; Pietro felt something else spring into transcendence down below.

Sifting through Ralph’s sidelined psyche, Pietro came to realize how much of a recluse he was. The guy never seemed to get out much. In fact, Agnes might’ve even been his first partner. If one could classify her as such. So, really, Pietro was doing him a major favor. If Ralph knew he planned on using their body for some frisky fun - on an otherwise lonely Hallow’s eve - surely, he’d give his brain roomie some thanks.

Pietro’s hands were vascular like a wired-up machine, clad in arm-warmer paws. Grabbing hard onto your curvy hips with them, he pulled you in closer. He sought the friction of your crotch against his. And after some seriously sloppy making out, Pietro dropped you an invite to his place.

Or…Agnes’s place.

Uh…or…was it technically Ralph’s? Shit, this sitcom roleplay sure gave way to some mental gymnastics.

You didn’t expect Pietro to zip you off at superspeed. Moving abruptly fast, he brought you straight to his disaster of a man cave. Laying you back on the futon, he gave you little time to adjust over the blankets. The wrinkled fabrics reeked of pot, in desperate need of a wash. You got as comfy as you could on the skunky sheets. Blinking your needy gaze up at him, you tugged his white belt, pulling the band undone. Pietro grinned lazily, colliding his swollen lips into yours. His primal instincts left him wreckless with want.

Burying his tongue in the cavern of your mouth, he brought with him the flavor of cheap booze. As you tasted him, you moaned, shucking his dumb jorts down his hips. A sizable swelling twitched in his tights, squirming under muted blue. Your eyes bulged in their sockets, cartoonishly wide. The way you whirled your tongue across your lip gave off a vibe of animalistic hunger. As though you were eager for an all dick dinner. With Pietro as the appetizer.

And the main course. And the dessert. He hoped you'd rate him five stars.

Restaurant metaphors aside; this was the very first test of his capabilities as a lover, after all. If he couldn’t live up to his superhero name, maybe he could make a name for himself in other ways.

Pietro Speed Maximoff. Quicksilver. Cunning Linguist.

But first…he really should satiate your hunger.

One, generous tug downward, and Pietro’s - or Ralph’s - slightly above average length sprang out. Bouncing in your face in mesmerizing oscillation, his cock appeared pulsating and roused. Thick veins weaved like threads through his shaft, akin to his vascular hands. His balls bulged in his tights, his jorts hanging halfway down his thighs. Pietro took his blistering cock in hand. Aching for the kind of stimulation Ralph never got, his desire painted him so flush and ruby red.

Since you looked so delighted at the sight before you; Pietro gave his cock a few strokes. He played with himself for your viewing pleasure. And as his firm grip tugged his shaft, the world pulled suddenly back. It was as though Pietro viewed life through a third person perspective. Metaphorical cameras fixed their lenses on the two of you, in an all too human position of closeness.

The weight of a cock in Pietro’s hand felt both familiar, yet weirdly foreign. Combine that with the sight of another living, breathing body below him; and his nerves buzzed uncomfortably. Frenzied in such a way that matched the quick pulsing of his heart. Focusing instead on your fluttering eyes, Pietro weaned himself out of dissociation. Your hands braced his hips, thumbs circling the fabric of his tights. The gentle gesture brought chills throughout his body. Inching forward, you teased his bobbing cock with a flick of your tongue.

Wet heat grounded him in reality. Upon racing to the forefront of his own mind; Pietro’s breath hitched with a husky groan. He held your head, massaging his fingers in your soft hair. Cute mewls spilled from your lips as you flitted your eyes shut. Swirling your tongue over his cock’s puffy head, you lapped any tearful pearls of precum. His thickness sank between your plush lips, and Pietro’s own lips parted for breath.

Of all things to happen on Halloween night, getting his dick sucked wasn’t on the docket.

Not that Pietro had any reason to complain. This? Wicked awesome. Ralph was really missing out.

You drew lazily back just to lap his balls over his tights, staining fabric with slick saliva. Rolling the tip of your tongue up the underside of his dick, you giggled in that dorkish way again. Pietro’s teeth pulled his lip as he tilted his head back. His dick twitched, throbbing while the heat of your mouth embraced him fully. He moaned, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. You pumped his cock at the base, teasing his veins with your tongue.

Pietro’s brows turned inward. You suckled his head like you longed to guzzle anything he could give. He sank his fingers deeper through your hair, holding on tightly as he rutted his hips. With each slam of his weeping tip into your throat; he hoarsely grunted. You really did try your best, just for him. Even as tears spilled down your cheeks and your lips began to swell. Plush and puffy, circling his slick length. Pietro kicked up the speed at which he rutted.

Fighting his instincts, he was cautious enough not to choke you. Or, he wanted to be cautious. He braced his hands on both sides of your tear stained face, his arm warmer paws soft against your cheeks. Sinking his dick even deeper between your lips, he accidentally went balls deep. The wet fabric of his tights smothered your chin. You sputtered on his cock, which made your throat wring him so tight. As your tongue curled, sliding under the thrum of his veins; Pietro cursed. Playful chuckles and shameful apologies fell from his lips.

Bitter heat coated your tongue in sweltering jets, thick and explosive down your throat. Pietro’s groin twisted in a blossoming surge of pleasure. And as he ruptured your esophagus with his sticky load, he found himself that much more grounded. As if such a bombastic nut somehow tethered him to reality - securing Pietro from any further derealization.

Righteous. His first big O since Agnes blessed him with the gift of consciousness. Significantly more electrifying than any sad, jerk sesh Ralph had in the past. And since you so humbly took him like a champ - giving Pietro a most euphoric experience; he saw it fit to return the favor ASAP.

Neither Pietro - nor Ralph, it seemed - had any experience toying around with partners. But he did have a vague knowledge of how to do so. Thanks to the backlog of not-so-safe-for-work memories deep in his subconscious. Raunchy porn, mostly. Magazines. Tapes. Jesus, Ralph…why’s there so much dirty stuff in there, huh? Lots and lots of it. Pietro would have to do his own research later.

He gave you no time to prep for his oncoming nose dive. Perched on your knees, coughing and clearing your throat - you found yourself abruptly resting on your elbows. Your upper back pressed into the futon. Pietro lifted your hips, using his strength to hike your thighs over his broad shoulders. As you parted your swollen lips to protest, blinking your reddened eyes; Pietro pulled your panties to the side. He kept the soaked lace pinned under a thick thumb. Burying his lips in your cunt, he lapped up your honeyed heat.

A sudden addiction, triggered by something carnal, overtook him instantly. Pietro became hooked on your fragrant flavor, swirling your cute bud in high-speed circles. He worked your stiff clit like a microscopic joystick, flicking wet heat in a spastic whirlwind. Alternating between drawing patterns, and sucking your precious pearl hard. Pietro so easily made you squeal - even without any prior experience - until you scratched your fingernails deep into Ralph’s sheets. Kissing your cunt, he let his thirst take over, and dove deeper.

The tune of his name melting through your moans made him wish the night would last forever. A small fraction of him hoped Ralph would never take over again. If consciousness offered rewards this scrumptious, Pietro wanted to stay sentient into eternity. Not to be selfish or whatever, but he almost considered playing minion for Agnes again - if only to secure the lifespan of his psyche.

Your supple, pussy lips parted as he wormed his tongue through your slick walls. Smooth, bumpy heat squeezed the fuzzy ridges of his tongue. In milliseconds, your fluttery love gushed over his taste buds and leaked down his chin. Tears teased the edges of your eyes. You cried whines of sugary bliss. Pietro’s thumb kept your panties pinned, his other hand locked around your thigh.

He smirked into your pussy, deep chuckles burning hot on your mound. And since the position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable; he allowed you some reprieve. Pushing you past your breaking point at light speed, Pietro bashed the sopping slickness of his tongue into your clit. You trembled, shuddering through powerful waves of orgasmic intensity. White-hot flashes of light flooded your vision. Under Pietro’s zippy tongue, your sweet pussy quivered.

Totes mcgoats. If he learned anything tonight - aside from the obvious lessons in subtlety; Pietro now understood why the everyday man lost his doggone marbles over puss.

After your first release, he eased your tired body into the futon. Your back met cozy blankets, engulfed in that skunk weed scent. Before you relaxed, he edged you even longer, drawing out your pleasurable suffering. Pietro sank his fingers deep into your heat, pumping the length of them inside you. His digits curled perfectly, finding every spongy spot that made your core burst with a desire to cum again. His tongue teased your swollen nub until you grabbed at his hair. You mussed the funny looking ear things atop his head, pressing your palm into his forehead to try and push him back.

You begged him to stop. Pleading in disoriented whimpers, your noises went straight to his limp dick. A few more hot, wrathful waves of pleasure later - he finally stopped. Only after your cunt erupted in one more, wet burst. You leaked like a fountain into his lips, soaking his chin, even making a mess of his makeshift costume. More than worth it. Pietro sat up on the futon, admiring his handiwork. He wiped his mouth with one of his arm warmer paws. Your mouth fell agape as your lungs begged for air. More tears sparkled on your flushed cheeks, mirroring the twinkle of your pussy. Pretty as a rose in a rainshower.

With your sluggish arms, you gestured for Pietro to climb over you. And once he did, you pulled him into a lazy kiss without a single care. You paid no mind to the taste of your sweetness on his lips, or the scent of your musk on his chin. Sleepily blinking, you bravely asked if you could stay the night. Too tuckered out to even consider a long walk back home.

Pietro could just as easily speed you over to your place. But even at the risk of his not-wife catching him in bed with someone else - he felt too adverse to loneliness. Besides...your company brought him more delight than he ever expected of anyone. Settling into the futon, he popped on Ralph’s old TV set.

Cheers was on. Pietro snickered to himself, rolling his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, snuggled up against Pietro’s strong form. He’d changed clothes at some point in the night, finally foregoing the tights. Oh, and he lended you one of Ralph’s shirts too. A Grateful Dead t-shirt, of which you were very grateful. Hah, “You don’t like Cheers?”

Pietro shrugged, sipping a beer. A Busch beer. He scowled at the taste, curling his lip.

“Eh. More of a Frasier kinda guy.”

#peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x you #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #wandavision #txt #sorry for dropping this in the main tags !!

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lyraeon · 1 year ago

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A while back I learned something important from my therapist, and since I was trying to recount it anyway to share with a friend, I thought I would bring it to y'all as well.

We have all had at least one of those days where we've stayed up way too late doing something fun but we just don't want to stop doing it. Logically I figured that's just because "well yeah I don't want to stop, I have to go to sleep then to work and those suck compared to it."

Except then that starts happening often and you feel bad about always staying up every night, but then you feel worse and get more stressed because you know you're doing something you're "not supposed to", but because you're more stressed you want more fun time... endless cycle.

But as I was talking about it all and told her I thought I was self-sacrificing, the therapist had a very useful question for me:

"How do you normally know it's time to stop having fun? Like you know it's time to finish work because your shift's over, you know it's time to stop doing the dishes when they're all done or the washer's full, what is your signal to stop having fun?"

And I had to search for a while to answer.

"When the activity is done" - okay sure, but many games and books and series, or doing your own creative thing, "done" may take days upon days or even be non-existent.

"When I had to pass the controller" - obvious and easy one! If you knew you had a finite turn then the defined end is readily there, and you're also prepared for it! But requires pre-arranging the limits.

"When I got in trouble for it" - ding ding ding, we found the big problem.

When you grow up with "fun" being a forbidden activity you're only allowed to do after everything else is done to 100% perfection, then you learn to sneak it in where you can fit it. And you need that shit, seriously - you cannot get through life without some source of enjoyment, some tiny glimmer of joy among the tedium.

Many of us learned to read under the covers, or to play our gameboy in the bathroom and hide it under the sink, or that we could get away with running around the backyard for another 20 minutes if we just learned which intonation of "come inside" was the actual trouble line, or whatever other ways to cram in as much joy as we could before the hammer came down, for whatever severity that meant in your house.

And so that feeling of "I shouldn't be doing this, I'm going to get caught, but if I'm going to get in trouble anyway I might as well get as much out of this as I can" becomes part of what you expect to feel when you're having fun. And you only know how to stop having fun when you feel that way when you get in trouble for it - and in absence of anyone else controlling your behavior, that means the bad guy becomes either whatever task pops up to remind you responsibilities exist, or your significant other pointing out it's really late and they wish you'd come to bed, or your boss yelling at you for being tired all the time... or it becomes you.

If you don't learn that fun isn't a forbidden activity, if you stay stuck in the mindset that it's something you have to cram in in secret and hide that you're even doing? It becomes so so easy to hate the voice of reason in your head that's trying to encourage moderation and we're going to regret this tomorrow.

And that escalates. You keep being too tired the next day. You keep feeling even worse when you sit down to enjoy yourself the next night because now you're already tired, so stress gets to you faster, and now you feel guilty about how late you're staying up so you're not really enjoying playing your game or scrolling Tumblr or whatever anymore, you're just nervously glancing at the clock, "have I spent too long yet? How much longer can I do this before I get in trouble?"

Even though now you're in your 20s or 30s and it's been a decade since the last time anyone else told you it was bed time.

Learning that you're allowed to have fun isn't easy; guilt and shame are emotions that run very, very deep. And neither is learning to have a healthier relationship with saying "okay, that's enough for today".

For one, you have to stop threatening yourself. "Tomorrow is gonna suck" and "You're going to regret this" and "we're going to get in trouble at work" don't work. You already feel bad, you already know it's gonna suck, so why wouldn't you try to cram in one more hour now while it's not the day that's going to suck yet? Punishment is not incentive.

Because by now you're in a situation where sleep is a horrifying punishment that ends any fun, but you're not enjoying your fun anyway because you're tired all the time on top of feeling ashamed for doing something fun, and you're spending the entire time beating yourself up for being an idiot with no self control who can't even handle going to bed on time like a normal human being...

etc etc etc.

You will hear a lot of people give advice on how to get rid of the idea of having to "earn" sleep or fun or happiness by doing "enough" other things. To learn to accept that just being alive is enough reason to "deserve" to do those things. That will work for some people, but for others it just ends up one more thing to scold yourself about, especially when you're already in the habit not of denying yourself entirely but instead of doing it and feeling guilty the whole time.

But learning to set limits ahead of time, so that you're not anticipating some unknown time that a nebulous authority figure is going to finally have their horror monster timer run out and leap out at you but instead know when and what to expect? Holy shit it helped.

Don't get me wrong, it hella felt like depriving myself at first, like I was being grounded, and I looked at my phone beeping saying it was bedtime quite often and got annoyed.

But then I stopped treating fun as something that had to wait until the end of the day and everything else had to be done first. It is way easier to stare down sleep and go "I don't need you", especially if you have any kind of insomnia making the idea of being in bed a dreadful one on top of it. It is harder to say that about dinner, or calling a friend, or walking the dog. Plus then the day isn't over yet, so giving up on your fun isn't also accepting that as the defining moment of the end of your day!

So you have to start practicing looking for places to squeeze in a little more fun - "I've got an hour before dinner, that's perfect to make some tea and watch two episodes." "My favorite youtuber just put up a new video, why don't I take a break to watch it before I finish this homework?" "I need to go grocery shopping tomorrow anyway, and if I leave an hour early I could go kick around the bookstore first."

And once you do, fun starts to feel less shameful.

Don't get me wrong, if your issues run deep enough it still does sometimes. But when you get to have these moments of joy that you don't feel the need to hide or apologize for and where punishment isn't part of the routine, then fun stops feeling like something you have to dig your claws into for fear of having it taken away from you once someone catches you with it. And that means that finishing a level and glancing over at the clock is something you do because it actually managed to click a satisfaction switch in your head and you wondered if it was a good note to end on for now, instead of something you do with your breath held and the berating words already cycling in your mind.

I am not offering this advice expecting it to work for everyone or be easy or anything like that. I am someone with Depression, ADHD, and pretty severe PTSD sharing a technique that one therapist told me that really happened to click for and help me specifically, in case it might help someone else be a little nicer to themselves today, too.

#mental health #PTSD #child abuse /#abuse /#depression #insomnia #long post #unsolicited advice #don't mind me just journaling in public

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generouskittentidalwave · 7 months ago

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Talking about Odysseus after disappearing for months

Ah greek mythos tumblr, one of my first tumblr stomping grounds. Alright ima make this short and sweet on my current thoughts on Odysseus

Ancient greek Odysseus is such a fun character and one of my fav ancient greek heroes that I've studied so hard I know things about him by heart. However it's hard to outwardly enjoy his character with the public as ppl either take things heavily out of context because they don't know ancient Greek and translations suck, and they read stuff about him also heavily taken out of context by those same ppl that paint him as an asshole, abusive, aggressive, womanizer who cheated, which none of these are true, and the asshole part is only half true as it could be seen as an asshole by our standards but back then he was genuinely a good sane guy with the hubris the size of an ox and heavily undiagnosed adhd. Or they see Odysseus as one character which a lot of ppl, even ppl who love his character, do so they claim everything the character has ever done to being one person, both good and bad, when that is furtherest from the truth.

In reality Odysseus is not one single person and never has been. Homer did not create his character, he created an adapted and revised version of his character that many have created before he came along and many have created after him. Even non Greeks created stories about him. The story about Odysseus leaving that one guy on the island? Yeah never actually happened in greek terms, in reality Odysseus wasn't actually there in the story at all and didn't do or say much of anything other than "🕴" the whole time, yet because of that one story ppl blame him for being the main cause of it anyway. Odysseus has never been and never will be one person, you basically find a variation of him that you like and enjoy it and add bits from other stories to it and boom there ya go, enjoy it. That's how it works and always has worked for centuries.

And Odysseus is being brought back and rewritten all over again in our modern era via Epic the musical by taking a character that was created beforehand and adapting and revising said character, just like homer once did, and so did the others before them. And in the future ppl may question the morals of said musical and make another Odysseus to fit their modern time. It's an endless cycle that will repeat itself forever.

If you were to ask me who my favorite Odysseus is? The Odysseus in EPIC the musical while adding a few bits of the Iliad here and there (hoping he makes an Iliad musical one day), it's the one I grew most attached to and love as an adaption. Ancient Odysseus is an amazing one but Modern Odysseus is my personal favorite.

So enjoy your variation of Odysseus and have fun with it as long as you stay respectful to the greek culture and it's original source (aka don't make Odysseus a horrible man and his two rapists girlbosses and label him a cheater, that shit AIN'T flying around here. Period.)

And I hope you all have an amazing day and night! ^^

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kittenfrostt · 2 years ago

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I didn't know where else to ask this but gekko or cypher nsfw alphabet, if you could do both that would also be amazing Ty :>

warnings ;; fluffy smut

art by @/ShkretArt on twt

divider by @/benkeibear on tumblr

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝗚𝗲𝗸𝗸𝗼 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Can’t promise he’s super great at it, mainly because he won’t know what to do. You ask him to get you anything, he’s on it in an instant. He’ll be asking you constantly “are you alright hermosa?? do you need anything? how can i make you feel better?” Just all over the place wanting to take care of you.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your smile, and your eyes. He’s a sucker for pretty smiles, and thinks it looks amazing on you no matter what.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He can be pretty messy sometimes, and he loves the taste of you. He’s practically addicted to it, always asking if he can be in between your legs. He wants it all over his face, such a pussy/cock drunk baby he is.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You’ve definitely made him cum in his pants once or twice. He’s embarrassed about it, and refuses to ever tell you.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very inexperienced. Only knows things he’s seen from porn videos, and stuff you’ve shown him/things you’ve learned together. But trust this boy is definitely an avid learner when it comes to pleasuring you.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves cowgirl, it’s his favorite thing to see you riding him.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

100% more of the humorous type when it comes to things. Cue small fail moments and shared giggles with one another. He just can’t help himself sometimes, he’s naturally a jokester no matter the setting. He just wants to make sure you’re having a fun time, always.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I feel like he’s pretty well groomed. He has some hair down there, and just between us, the carpet totally matches the drapes. He loves spunky colors, why stop at his head? He actually finds it funny.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He has his romantic moments, only sometimes if he’s really in the mood. But he likes to keep things light hearted for the most part. He just likes to show his love and passion for you in different ways.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

More times than he should. He’s not ashamed of it either, wether its alone or with you around.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

MOMMMY KINK!!! He loves to be nurtured. I can also see him having a lactation kink if you two ever decide to get pregnant, he just wants to lick and suck on ur milking tits all day <33 Bit of roleplay for sure, loves overstimulation whether its you or him. Oral fixation, this man can stay between your thighs for hours and not budge. He also loves when scratch or mark him, always giving you back bruises and hickeys in return.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere he can get you alone tbh. It could be in the bedroom, living room, work, public bathroom, you name it. He’ll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Pouting. This man cannot resist a cute little pout even if his life depended on it. He also loves when you wear cute little outfits and lingerie sets, it always riles him up.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s not really a huge fan of things like CNC, or anything super forceful/rough. He gentle, loving, and very playful if anything else.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He enjoys both equally, easily. I’d say he’s pretty sloppy with it at first when he’s giving, but once he gets the hang of it he’ll know just how to make you feel good. When it comes to receiving, he’ll let you do what you please, as long as you’re comfortable so is he.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on what you want him to give to you tbh. If he had a preference, he’d rather do slow and sensual, that way he can drink in everything you’re giving him. Sometimes if he’s really riled up, and lord knows he just can’t resist your begging, he’ll pick up the pace for you.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves them, enjoys the thrill of it. He loves when it's sloppy and quick. As often as you or he wants to, he doesn’t mind. This man always has a need for you.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Oh absolutely. He’s a thrill seeker. He loves to experiment in different things, and he loves when you do it together.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

After some experience, he can quickly build up his stamina. He’ll push himself to the very limits just for you.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any originally, but he’s not hesitant to buy anything you wanna use. He’d love to use toys on you– vibrators, dildos, gags, etc. He’d mainly use them on you, but he also wouldn’t object if you wanted to try some things on him. Anything to please you this boy will do.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He adores teasing, but he’s never mean about it.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He can get a bit loud at times, but he tries to keep quiet so he can hear you a lot better. He’s a very vocal person in bed. He also definitely whimpers.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Gekko’s soft whimpers bounce off the walls, his soft breaths coming out in shaky pants. His hands were everywhere on your body– your thighs, waist, breasts. Touching you anywhere he desired to grab. He was in a trance, watching that pretty little body of yours bounce on top of him. His gaze focused to where his cock continuously disappeared in and out of your tight little hole. “Qué lindo,” He whispered out in awe, willing his eyes to stay open through the pleasure. His head was thrown back at one particular slam of your hips, a loud groan escaping his lips. He could feel your hands run across his chest, your voice barely registering through his ears. “You can do it baby boy, give me one more,” Your soft voice cooed out, insides clenching around him almost painfully. “Fuck– you keep doing that and I’m gonna cum,” He’d breath out in response, letting the pleasure take over him until you both hit your breaking point.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Gekko is very lean and athletic. He’s more on the slimmer side, but he’s very defined. Long legs, pretty little slender fingers.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Probably higher than most. He gets real obsessive with you when he falls in love.

∘₊✧──────────────────────✧₊∘

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sometimes he’ll pass out right after, or at least whenever you go to sleep. He’s usually holding out for you no matter how spent he is.

#smut #valorant smut #valorant x reader #x reader #valorant #valorant gekko #gekko smut #gekko x reader

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olderthannetfic · 27 days ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/765221485179731968/writing-about-my-favorite-characters-as?source=share

I'm really sorry to hear you're going through this, anon. I'm even sadder that it's not an uncommon story.

As another trans writer (trans woman, in my case) that's stumbled into other people eviscerating her works for "fetishizing" and being "het in f/f's clothing" I really sympathize with you, dude. The way I look at it is that you cannot try alter who you are for these people. They will always find a way to dislike you because you are their ideological enemy. They dislike seeing trans men in what they see as their ship tags, not yours, so they will always find something they view as a flaw and flog you for it until you either conform or leave.

I've had a similar experience to yours, though not a literal thread dedicated to me. Ouch. I write f/f and sometimes that features non-op/pre-op trans characters because I am personally non-op after many years on E, and I'm always astounded by how it obviously upsets people that otherwise claim to be progressive. I also tag things extensively and I even include some terminology clarifications at the beginning of smut fics so that everyone knows what they're getting into. It doesn't matter to them. It'll never matter to them what you or I do, so why bother trying to coddle them?

There are readers that like my works, but after walking into a fandom Discord's NSFW fic channel, I saw how many people assume that my fics are written by a cis person or the fabled Dirty Fetishizer. It's one thing to intellectually know this happens and another to see your own work - something that you as a trans person created to talk about some part of yourself - ripped apart as this nasty tripe that no "real" trans person would write or read.

To make matters worse, I saw all that after I went through a rather nasty spate of transphobic anons when the fandom was very young. It was so tiring. I was exhausted. Seeing virulent hate in the real world and then having it thrown in my face for writing characters in a way that people disagreed with was just too much for me.

My way of dealing with this was disengaging from my own fandom, turning off anons on tumblr, and blocking anyone I even felt slightly annoyed by just in case it boiled over into something else. It sucks, but it's how I continue to have fun with writing for my ships. I basically never go into my ship tags on Tumblr now, I curate whose fics I read carefully, and I only hang out in one Discord server that's very small. I still read and comment on others' works when I have the mental bandwidth for it, but I avoid most other writers, especially those I don't know just in case they're part of that -phobe segment, and keep the most vocally unpleasant authors permanently muted for my own sake.

Frankly, it is what it is, as thought terminating as that phrase can be, and I gave up trying with these people/this fandom. You could keep trying to interact with the greater fandom, but you should block the assholes that disregarded your lived experience for your own mental health.

It's an isolating process for sure, but that's why I supplemented it with seeking out other fandom friends, most of whom are trans. Maybe we disagree with headcanons, and in a lot of cases we're polar opposites, but we all stick together because otherwise we're all thrown into isolation. That, and I always try to focus on the folks that do like what I write.

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ketterdamskaelishprince · 8 months ago

Text

lenore and the yellow wallpaper (a ramble)

so this is all one entire big and large ramble session from me, so ignore if you want because this has no actual point, and i also haven't touched the yellow wallpaper since i handed it in with my coursework so i'm bound to get things wrong. this is no high-brow analysis, this is just be rambling. i've finally gotten the courage as well to go on the big scary tumblr and speak so be nice please :)

anyways, now we have that out of the way– i bring you my observation.

so i've been rereading nevermore (because i am deep in the trenches of my hyperfixation on it right now and have firmly planted myself there) and i noticed something in episode 21 that i remember noticing the first time.

just for a recap, episode 21 is when they're facing the dementophobia trial, and lenore has gotten herself sucked into a hallucination. through this, we (presumably along with her) are shown parts of her past, and the fallout of her brother dying. in a long scene, we basically see the attic which lenore is forced to 'rest' in.

sorry if this is like an obvious tell, but my little rat brain was vibrating out of my seat to say this.

well, first off, let me just give you a little summary of the yellow wallpaper. we have this nameless woman (who's married) who's also our narrator, her husband: john who's a doctor and we also have john's sister: jennie. jennie isn't too important in the summary but she exists and stuff and there's loads of journals out there probably that could tell you super interesting things about her role in the story.

anyways, i digress. the narrator has been diagnosed with slight nervous tendencies and is given the rest cure therapy as treatment. she ends up slowly going insane in the attic (?) which doubles as a nursery, and there's this fugly yellow wallpaper, which the narrator comments to be basically like a crime to art and to colour in general. anyways, the more she stares at this wallpaper and the longer she stays in the attic, she starts to see a woman behind the wallpaper– and the short story ends with her ripping the wallpaper off and freeing the woman but then also, the story ends essentially with her throwing herself out of the window of the attic and yeah, suicide. there's like allusions to the woman behind the wallpaper and her being one at the end, but WE AREN'T FOCUSSING ON THAT, i've rambled enough.

anyways, how does this all link to nevermore?

THIS PANEL RIGHT HERE.

idk, the act of ripping off the wallpaper just distinctly reminded me of the yellow wallpaper, and i have no idea if the creators drew inspo from the yellow wallpaper for this or if it was one of poe's works (i'm not heavily versed in all of his works, but i have a collection of his stuff i should probably sift through and read). but yeah, thought it was cute.

i know thematically they probably vary, but there is something to be said that both of them are in a situation where society wants so badly to silence them and punishes their defiance with the diagnosis 'madness'.

i dunno, just a nice little thought. there's also the whole rest cure therapy too, and the fact that they're both in the attics of their homes– and i presume lenore is in a secluded countryside place here like the narrator of the yellow wallpaper is. so, you know– other connections!

also, as a side note–

this bad boy right here? ether? well some ether smells sweet, so i thought maybe (as a very dumb end to this ramble) that maybe, lenore associates the sweet smelling scent of what she used to be knocked out with to the sweet scent of flowers– i have no idea if that's why she hates flowers but i thought that was a fun little mention. food for thought, you know?

anyways, if you disagree that is totally ok, i truly don't know what i'm talking about half the time, but this has been bouncing on my tiny brain for the past few days and i decided i needed to let it out before i start plaguing the people i know in real life with my obsession. and also, friends, feel free to correct me if i'm disgustingly wrong on anything– i love to learn <3

and... yeah, that's all folks. gonna go rot now :)

#nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #nevermore webcomic #lenore vandernacht #lenore is so mad woman luv her very much #the yellow wallpaper enthusiasts forgive me if i sinned with this one #nevermore #i love my little psycho sapphic comic i read every friday !

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valyrfia · 1 month ago

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RE: This ask on fanfic, fandom, and lestappen

(preface with, I love fanfic and fandom, and I've written for very big and small)

I have never experienced such bad fandom etiquette as I have with 1633. I wrote one multi chapter fic for the ship and 99% of ao3 comments I got were people asking when I'd publish the next chapter, which has always been a big no no in fandom. I deleted the fic because it felt bad that people didn't want to engage with what I had written, but, just ask about my update schedule. Also, people changing the date of their published fic to be more recent, so, it appears at the top of the 'recently updated page'! I have never seen this in any fandom before now! AO3 isn't Instagram! If you tag correctly, people will find your fic if they want to read it.

People are pushing 1633 constantly in very public spaces like Twitter, Insta and TikToK, where we know these drivers have accounts and look at comments/posts about them or on their own posts. Just today on Twitter I see Dan Howell (which what a fucking weird intersection of my past and current interests) being asked at a public panel about lestappen, just because he's mentioned liking F1 in the past. I know it gets easy clicks and engagement because it is popular. But, it's so far removed from behaviour that was ever considered acceptable in fandom.

I remember, back in 2013/14 there was a huge backlash to people bringing up fictional ships to actors/writers. There was discourse after every Supernatural or Teen Wolf fan forum/con panel when someone would inevitably ask about Destiel or Sterek. People would argue whether fanon and ships were appropriate to ask the real people behind the show about.

RPF is fine, I have written, currently write and will continue to engage in RPF spaces. But, there are boundaries that you must keep if you are going to engage with it. Tumblr and AO3 have always been considered locked fandom spaces. If a person goes onto these sites and searches themselves out, that's on them. But, it's implied in fandom that you keep to just these spaces or private chats

(personally, I'm sad I just missed out on the livejournal days... I got into fandom when everything was being moved over from there and fanfic.net onto ao3)

I understand younger social media users are used to an algorithm finding content for them. And on sites like Tumblr where the algorithm sucks or ao3, which doesn't have one. You have to search out the content you want yourself. Liking and kudos isn't enough, you actually have to engage in meaningly conversations and comments if you want to make friends. That can be scary! But, it's a soft skill that is slowly getting lost and with it fandom etiquette is going down the drain.

This is like...one of the last big serious ask I want to reply to on this topic because not everyone agrees with me (which, fine), but OP you put a lot of time into typing this up so I will honour that.

I think fandom, much like a lot of other things nowadays, have become less about fun and more about hitting a certain number of likes and interactions. That's why people push Lestappen on other social media even though most of us have explicitly said "can you not, thanks". The changing the date of the fic to push to an 'algorithm' infuriates me and is a personal pet peeve of mine. There's one that's doing that now on the Lestappen tag and I've point-blanked refused to read it literally BECAUSE of the date changing. People will read your fic if they want to, constantly pushing it to the top of the 'Date Updated' list does nothing except piss people off.

I will say I think the fictional ship discourse of 2014 was maybe driven in part by the fact that being gay was still seen as something much more 'novel' than even now. If we think about when marriage became legal in the US and all that...I still think though that it shows a level of self-awareness and self-regulation that we've lost in fandom. As my partner and I often to lament to each other, we've become so individualistic that people have lost the concept of shame. It's an idea that YOU are the exception and something should cater to YOU, instead of the other way round. In the case of fandom, this comes out as people acknowledging fandom etiquette in an abstract way, but still logging into their twitter account (WITH THEIR FACES ATTACHED! WHICH! THIS IS A TANGENT BUT IT BAFFLES ME! WHAT HAPPENED TO DIGITAL FOOTPRINT!) and posting about RPF. Fandom is not an abstract entity, fandom IS the people that interact with it–from authors to artists all the way to those who consume the content.

Also, I also JUST missed out on the lj days–the great migration was happening just when I was getting involved in fandom and I can't help but feel like I missed out on something special.

#asks #enigmabird #fandom etiquette

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