#but good luck to me trying to find posts that fit my expectations

[anemoa]

does one part of a fandom ever bother you so much that you mute the words surrounding it but know it makes up around 99% of posts and thus is going to turn your recs into a desert

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cool for the Summer 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren’t as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Humping it up on hump day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You taste the cocktail and make a face. As sweet as it is, the alcohol is stringent in your throat. You set the glass down as Bucky’s fingers tap on his pint. You glance up, surprised to find him watching you. 

"Don't like it?" He asks. 

"Mm, no, I mean yes. No." You stutter out. "It's good, I just... don't drink much." 

"She's a good girl." Your mom teases. "I always had to push her out the door. Oh, don't even ask about prom." She grabs his forearm and cackles. "You would think buying a dress would be fun. Nope. I think she'd have rather gone to the dentist." 

Your cheeks turn hot. Four years past and you still cringe at the fitting room torture. You look down and fiddle with the cutlery wrapped in a red napkin. You really wish she wouldn't treat you like a child. You suppose at times you might act like one. 

"Those things can be tough. I barely remember mine. Only went so my buddy didn't feel like such a loser," Bucky shrugs. "But look at how far you've come. I'm sure high school is like a blip on the radar. Now the real fun begins, huh?" 

You know he's trying to help and you appreciate. But it only makes your chest tighten. The dread throbs in your temples. Life, it's all ahead of you but you have no idea where to start. 

"Yeah, I... I barely remember." You talk to the table. 

"She's a smart one," your mom praises. "I really lucked out. No teenage angst, no rebellion." 

You chew your lip and pick at the trim of the table. You sound lame. You are and you never minded the safety of that trait. Still, you'd like to be known as more than a boring little bookworm. 

"Okay, here we are." The server rescues you from further humiliation. "Chicken caesar." 

She puts your salad in front of you, "cheese steak sammy and macaroni salad." She lays a plate in front of Bucky, "and the sizzling fajitas." 

Another server appears with a wooden plank, set with a cast iron pan atop it and fixings; tortillas, salsa, guac. It smells delicious but you know it's too early for all that. You'd be even sleepier and you still have to get unpacked.  

"Enjoy," the waitress smiles and struts away. 

You unwrap your cutlery and use the knife and fork to shred the lettuce. You should've known better than to order salad. It's always so awkward to eat with others around to see. 

"Mm, pretty good," Bucky says. "Lauren, how's that extravaganza? Really went all out." 

"Wasn't expecting all this." Your mother scoops grilled peppers into a tortilla, daintily with her fork as her nails shine in the light. You remember when you asked to get a manicure and she said they were impractical... 

She's changed but you don’t feel all that different than when you left for college. Maybe you should have tried harder. Well, it's not like your life is over. Far from. 

"How about you?" Bucky prompts and once more you meet his gaze with a startled blink. You nod and swallow. 

"Good. Just boring old salad." You say. 

"Always chicken caesar," your mother chirps. "Creature of habit. Don't worry. You'll hardly be surprised. By tonight, she'll have one of her books and you won't hear another peep." 

You bite down on your tongue. You're not sure anymore if she's bragging or she's chiding you. Her life is so exciting now. Her hair is highlighted, her nails are filled, and her makeup... she's actually wearing makeup. 

"Didn't think you could work with those." You say as she catches her nail on her napkin. 

"Oh, yeah, I'm not in the ward anymore. Sweetie, didn't I tell you? I do clinicals now. I just show the new ones what to do. Not much hands-on stuff." 

"Uh, I remember. Sorry." 

"Too sharp," Bucky chuckles. "Can't even hold her hand without getting clawed." 

She jabs him with her shaped tip and he grunts. They laugh together and you look around. You're the sore thumb sticking out. Ever the third wheel. Even when you had 'friends', you sat on the sidelines, confused by their inside jokes. 

"It's very good. Thank you." You sit forward and focus on the salad. The sooner this is over, the sooner you can do exactly what your mom expects. Hide with a book. Alone. 

🩵

Home is always a comforting sight but not as much as you expect. A flicker of guilt sparks in your chest. Bucky just bought you lunch, you shouldn’t be so negative. Still, you just want to unwind after a long day of traveling. 

As much as you want him to just go, you would never say as much. Your mom seems happy with him. She even seems healthier. It’s nice to see her taking care of herself, she’s done enough of that for others for too long. 

You get out of the car but Bucky’s too fast. He has you bag in his hand before you can react to the trunk opening. He smiles and insists, “I got it. You lead the way.” 

“Mm, I could nap about now,” your mother calls over the car roof. 

You agree internally. The whole train ride, you looked forward to burying yourself in blankets and leaving the world behind. It would be rude to do so with company around, even if they aren’t yours.  

You follow your mom to the front door and she unlocks it with a yawn. You enter and slip your shoes off on the mat. Things are different. Not too different, you can’t quite place everything. Yet you notice that the coat rack has been replaced with mounted hooks across the wall and the rug at the bottom of the stairs is new. 

“Oh!” Your mom spins, surprising you before you can sneak past her. “I forgot about your surprise!” 

You look at her then over your shoulder at Bucky as he plunks down your bag. You wait for him to respond. He just offers a small curve of his lips. You turn back. 

“You,” your mom taps your nose. “Come on. Ah,” she waves around you at Bucky, “bring her bag with you.” 

Your mom grabs your arm and ushers you upstairs. You can’t resist, too swept up in fatigue and confusion. He follows behind you. What’s happening? 

“Okay. I hope you like it,” she goes to your door and your stomach flips. Oh no, what did they do? She swings the door open and backs up, waving inside, “tada!” 

You hesitate but make yourself step into the doorway. You glance around and your mouth slowly falls open. You blink at the room. Wow. 

It’s not awful, just another change you’re not ready for. Instead of your old rectangle bookcases, new circle ones have been built into the walls; white instead of brown. Your bed is the same but the wood is newly re-stained and the bedding is shade of pink you wouldn’t necessarily choose. A heart shaped rug is spread across the floor and your previous desk has been replaced with one that folds into the wall. 

There is an entirely new piece that stands out. A vanity in the corner. The mirror is the same shape as the carpet and the stool has a fluffy seat. 

“Oh, wow...” you utter as you step further inside. 

“Bucky is so handy! I always wanted to do this but I didn’t know where to start. Oh, just wait until you see his place,” she rambles as she trails you. “He built the whole thing himself.” 

“I had help,” he tuts and sets your bag down. “Tried not to do too much but just added a fresh coat to everything.” 

You’re silent.  

“Sweetie?” Your mom touches your arm. 

“I’m... surprised. That’s all.” 

“She’s speechless, Bucky!” She squeals and claps her hands. “I knew she’d love it.” 

“Heh, yeah. Well, I hope it isn’t too much.” He rubs his neck as he looks around. “You can let me know. I can change whatever you need.” 

“No, no, it’s really nice. Like really. I...” you wring a finger in your other hand. “Thank you.” 

“Lauren,” he sidles past you and nudges your mother gently. “Why don’t we let her get settled in? I’m sure she’s beat from the road.” 

“Right, right,” she beams around the room before she faces him. “Of course.” She glances over at you, “sweetie, let us know if you need anything, okay?” 

“Mom, I’m fine.” You show your teeth sheepishly and hover around the wall. 

Bucky leaves first, your mom following as she cranes to stare at the room. She leaves you with an excited wiggle and you go to close the door behind her. Once it’s shut, you sigh. You weren’t ready for any of this. Somehow coming home has proven even more disjointing than going away to college. 

You plod to the bed and flop onto it. You roll onto your back and let your eyes rove. It is so cute. You would have killed for a room like this in high school, even on campus. Yet it does seem a lot. You’re sure once you get a job, your mom doesn’t expect you to stay too long. 

Maybe this is a good thing. A little less pressure on you to get out but not exactly. With Bucky hanging around, you can’t help but be in the way. You’re not the only one who needs to adjust to your return. 

You can worry about it all later. For now, you need to close your eyes and stop thinking. 

🩵

The afternoon wears on as you dawdle away on your phone. You can barely keep your eyes open as the screen glares back at you. It’s almost six when you make yourself stop the addictive word game.  

You lay listless, trying to urge yourself to get up and do something. You lose the battles as your eyes close and you drift off without realising it. In your subconscious, you’re just as you are in reality. Just lying there, motionless and mindless. 

You wake slowly as pressure squeezes in your pelvis. Your bladder forces you to action. Even with the painful weight throbbing inside, you move without urgency. You sit up slowly, dizzy from the unexpected doze. You stand and shuffle to the door. 

You leave it open as you go into the hall and let your feet guide you. Habit takes down to the bathroom door and you reach for the handle. It turns from the other side and you recoil in surprise. Bucky stops short as he emerges and apologises. 

You stammer as you gape back at him. Somehow after the whirlwind morning, you forgot all that change. In your grogginess, you didn’t see the new walls or the white bookcases or think. 

“S...Sorry...” you murmur.  

You’re consumed in radiating heat as you stare at the stubble along his neck. Any lower and he might be embarrassed. He is shirtless after all. You’ve never been the best at looking people in the face but you have no choice. You examine his silver-streaked hair, slightly tussled, and his grizzly beard with its dusting of white along his chin. 

You step back as he raises a palm and dips his head. “No problem. Gotta get used to each other, I guess. Bad timing, is all.” 

“Right,” you agree dully. 

He looks back at you and his forehead creases. “You okay?” 

You wince. “Yeah, why?” 

“Nothing, nothing. Just... you look... a little out of it.” 

“I fell asleep,” you run your fingers along your throat nervously. The motion catches his eyes. Their startling blue hue gleam in the light. 

“Right. I figured you needed it. Long ride...home.” His gaze flicks up to meet yours. “Sorry you’re stuck here with us boring old people. You probably miss it already.” 

You shrug, “not really.” 

“Not really? What about your friends?” He rests his hand on the door frame and leans. 

“Didn’t... just study buddies. Classmates.” You look away and shift as your bladder aches. 

He clears his throat and stands straight. He steps out of the frame and you jump at his sudden movement. He touches your hip to keep from colliding with you and sidles by. 

“I’ll just get out of your way, baby girl,” He squeezes, his hand lingering for a moment. “Welcome home.” 

He lets go and turns, strutting down the hall as you stand frozen. You hurry forward and shut yourself in the bathroom as you scramble with the sudden agonizing pang. You don’t have time to think, you have to go! 

[bbokicidal]

Slashers - OT8 [SKZ]

Disclaimers : Just a small post I thought would be fun to make. Also - this is all just for GOOD FUN for the month of October and spooky season. These killers are nasty and awful and we all know that - I am in no way saying the Stray Kids members are represented by these slashers (who are fictional characters remember) and I do not mean to say 'they're exactly like these awful people.' because that's just dumb. Don't go thinking that now. C'mon. Common sense.

Warnings : None really, just horror movie slashers included

If you want a part two of the members as other horror movie characters (maybe finals girls/guys or more recent characters?) lmk!

Bangchan : Michael Myers [Halloween]

Honestly mostly just picked this because of his physique and the way I am so wildly attracted to both of them. But I also just think Chan's got that Lowkey scary dad stance down. Also the way he stands back to watch others. Yes, I know it's lovey dovey towards the group but imagine him as Michael just stalking the others?????? (Why's it kinda hot,,,)

He'd spent months planning his first attack. Hours standing, staring, figuring out the habits and movements of his younger friends until he had all of their mannerisms in his head - memorized like the veins in the back of his hand. He knew who was the weakest link. Who he shouldn't target. Who would be easy to mark off the list. Jisung just had back luck being the first name he put down on his notepad.

Chan as Michael Myers, my beloved.

Lee Know : Billy 'Ghostface' Loomis [Scream]

The actually scary one who's full of determination and purpose. The one who actually gets the job done. The one who does it and does it well. Also, wildly sexy. So. I think Minho fits Billy Loomis best because he can be cunning, secretive, but also charming and wild at the same time. We love him.

Minho wasn't stupid - not like his accomplice. He let Jisung distract people - be the life of the party while he himself lured Felix out to the garage to get a beer or two. He dismissed himself, saying he forgot something in the house, before coming back only to find Felix frightened at first sight and scrambling to escape the outer part of the home. And he felt little remorse as he watched Felix try to squirm out through the doggy door - his thumb clicking the switch to make the garage door slowly raise.

Minho as Billy Loomis, hehe.

Changbin : Pyramid Head [Silent Hill]

Not a 'classic slasher' because he's not the main villain of the story but EASILY the best pic for Changbin because WHEWIE those arms. Also?? Changbin dragging around a giant knife and just picking people up by their necks? Good GAWD. Pyramid Head Binnie (shirtless,, Binnie,,,,,) is a need for me.

He was just there - existing. Wandering. Dragging his knife around until the ground cracked and broke under the weight as he walked. He was just... there. Until someone appeared - a pretty boy with long brunette hair that fought for his life in this hellhole of a place. Someone for him to wander after. Someone for him to target.

Changbin as Pyramid Head <3

Hyunjin : Chucky [Chucky]

Honestly mainly just picked this one because 1) Hyunjin as a doll would be wild lol, and 2) Hyunjin who looks so cute and precious and like a normal man at first but ends up being a wild fucking mass murderer?? That would be,, actually so fitting because he's such a cutie at first and then gets on stage and it's like WHOHOAH--

Finding his soul trapped in the body of a doll was the last thing he wanted to happen after his death - but Hyunjin found that this doll was a lot more flexible than he expected. He could curl his fingers, move his eyes, talk even. It was just like his body before - only harder to break, and a lot... smaller.

Anyway, Hyunjin as Chucky. Also red hair Hyunjin supremacy, I said what I said.

Han : Stu "Ghostface" Macher [Scream]

The silly one that keeps messing up. The one who works hard but still somehow fumbles it. The one that needs help. The one who really got roped into it just because he's massively gay for his best friend.

After botching another murder and making a pact with his friend to frame the girl for their killings, Jisung dug the blade into his friend before Minho did the same. He clutched his stomach and fell to the counter, only moving to grip the phone as it rang just beside his head. He sobbed out another gasp that his parents would be so disappointed in him - another babble from Jisung that Minho didn't have time to deal with.

Jisung as Stu Macher, aka the gay icon of the scream series, everyone.

Felix : Tiffany Valentine [Chucky]

Definitely did not pick this bc of his hair. (oops) Anyway. Just there for the shits n giggles, does it for the person he loves and adores so dearly. Didn't even initially mean to be a part of it but got pulled into it somehow anyway lol. Also an absolute baddie.

How'd he get here? He wasn't too sure. What he did know was that he was glued to his best friend for the rest of his life now, trapped in the small but definitely not fragile bodies of dolls for eternity. He was happy to be there, if he was honest, just enjoying being everlasting with someone he adored. Even if he was put into the body of a ... woman? Well. Doll-Woman.

Felix as Tiffany Valentine. ~

Seungmin : Jason Voorhees [Friday The 13th]

Seungmin as a reoccurring character who experienced nothing but tragedy in his past and now comes back to his place of 'death' every year to haunt people who get so much as a fucking mile from him. LOOOOVE this idea. Love the image of Seungmin just hovering around a Summer Camp and lurking like a little creeper. Also Seungmin with a machete is too much for me, cannot. I gotta go.

Seungmin enjoyed lurking around the camp if he was honest. He found himself feeling joy in watching the camp-goers wander around so clueless as to the tragedy that occurred in the waters they swam in, playing and having too much for his liking. No - He didn't feel joy in watching them have fun. He felt joy in hearing their screams the following night when he made them aware of his presence; when he showed them the truth that lay in the grounds of that poor Summer Camp.

Seungmin as Jason Voorhees. ;))

I.N : Pennywise [IT]

Not a classic slasher yet again BUT one of the best in my personal opinion. (It's one of my fav horror movies so.) I think Jeongin fits Pennywise because of his teasing nature, the way he finds it funny when he irks his hyungs, etc. I also think he has a relatively short -- temper? Temper might not be the right word. Maybe patience is right. He's impatient and if he doesn't get what he wants, he'll snap. Also the idea of shapeshifter Jeongin?? Torturing people by showing up as their literal living nightmares? Yum yum yum.

Jeongin was hungry. Starved, even. Twenty seven years after falling into a slumber, he'd awoke under a quaint town that offered up so many delicious meal options - which included a very pretty man more muscular than the others - who, conveniently, was a bit of a scaredy cat.

Jeongin as Pennywise !!

-

Taglist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren

[writerze]

author’s note: i haven’t posted anything on here in a longgg time. apologies if the story is all over the place i’m writing this at 2-4am !!

warnings: none, except for my corny ass writing

summary: you’re new at school and instantly gain miles’ attention.

part 2

e!42 miles morales x fem!black!reader

He admittedly had a small crush on you the first time he noticed you.

You were new to the school and you already stood out from the rest of the students. The way your looks and personality gained not only his attention, but as well as your new peers, was almost like a magnet.

Just his luck, the two of you shared a class together.

You sat a few seats to the side of him, unintentionally giving him the perfect view of your profile. Once the class started he tried paying attention, but it was stuff he already knew and had no interest in relearning.

He got distracted, deciding it was more interesting to look at you than whatever the teacher was saying. Miles didn’t notice that he was staring at you for that long, but you clearly noticed the heated gaze from someone nearby.

When you finally looked at him, he didn’t freeze like you expected him to do but only continued staring you down. You broke the eye contact first, leaning so that your braids covered the side of your face. If you could blush, you’d definitely be red right now.

Miles finally put his attention back on the teacher, but his mind only continued to go back to how pretty you looked.

⭐️

It’s been a few weeks since you started your new school and since you noticed Miles’ stare. Neither of you had made any direct contact, but in class or brief instances in the hallway the two of you always made some type of eye contact.

Your teacher’s voice discussing the new project they were assigning the class disrupts your thoughts. You were currently sitting in the class you shared with Miles’. Ever since you first caught him staring at you, you always made sure to look good in class or wherever at school you thought you’d see him. You were hoping that he would make the first move, but at the speed the two of you were going it was never going to happen.

“For the project you need to at least be a group of two or three. No more than that or your project will not count.”

The class echoes with different sounds of content or displeasure, people knowing exactly who their group would be or not having any idea.

You couldn’t help but glance at Miles, who just so happened to be looking at you.

“Begin searching for your partners. Move your desks together if needed.”

The dismissal of your teacher caused the students to rush to get up to find their desired partners.

“Hey! Y/N, do you want to work with me? This seems easy.”

“Y/N!! Work with me, you can come over my house to work on it!”

People you knew of in the class started coming up to you, asking if you’d want to work with them. Most of them being boys that were trying to get at you and a few being girls that thought you were able to get them more popularity.

You weren’t fully aware, but ever since you came to the school you were almost always the student’s main topic. People always had something to talk about when it came to you. It was either the fresh set of nails you had or the new braids you wore or the new pair of jordan’s you had on. One way or another, you were always talked about.

You quickly declined everyone’s offers. “I already have a partner! Maybe next time?” You quickly stood and walked towards Miles�� desk, who had been watching the whole ordeal.

“Hey..,” you took a moment to glance at him up and down. His fresh braids, cool fit, and of course his handsome features made him look so good. You were always confused on why you rarely see him talking with anyone.

“You don’t have a partner yet do you?”

His eyes stared into you, a passive look on his face, as he took his time to respond.

A slight smirk came across his face as he looked you over. “Nah, why? You tryna be mines?”

You couldn’t help but feel as if he had a double meaning behind his words.

A/N: I CAN WRITE WAY BETTER THAN THIS I PROMISE

[ktempestbradford]

Jumping off of what I said in this post about having to dismantle certain toxic ideas about myself, I realized that folks might not know how deeply not being a straight, white, cishet, able-bodied, Christianized male (aka the Dominant Paradigm) in the West messes you up mentally. It's a huge mental health problem that isn't always addressed.

When I started up my latest round of therapy I began to acquire labels for some of the ways I acted or reacted to situations. One day in session I was like: Was that a trauma response? It was, wasn't it? And my therapist confirmed. What confused me is that I didn't think I'd experienced trauma.

The idea I had of trauma was some Major Incident in which something Very Bad had happened to me or near me. Or it was about being in abusive situations, usually at home. The kind of ways trauma is depicted in the media.

Then I came across a Twitter thread in which the person said that everyone needs therapy, especially marginalized people, because the way Western society works, anyone who is not the Dominant Paradigm or doesn't hew closely to it is constantly being harmed by society.

Are you BIPOC? Racism is almost everywhere, and where it is, it's constant. It's also not always KKK-level in your face racism; it's more often wave after wave of microagressions on top of whatever challenging condition you're in due to historical racism. In other words: Chronic.

Are you neurodiverse? Good luck not being overstimulated by allegedly benign activities like going to the grocery store. Good luck not being criticized on a daily basis because you can't act "normal". Try holding down a job that expects you to sit at a desk for 8 hours yet you can't even sit in a quiet environment because the asshole CEO read that open office plans make employees more productive.

Are you anywhere under the LGBTQIA+ umbrella? Welcome to the constant barrage of invasive questions from strangers, invasive laws, invasive religiosity... Once again, an allegedly benign activity (going to the bathroom in public) can be a damn crucible if you don't look like the "right" kind of woman or man. Have fun navigating the medical system when you want affirming health care.

I could go on. Disabled people, poor or working class people, fat people, any people who have been historically marginalized and oppressed all experience this. It is trauma. It is harm. It does affect us. But it's Chronic and Systemic. That's the crux.

Because we have to keep on going even with all this. It's every day and it's not easy to escape. So we "deal with it." Some of us have good coping strategies and or supportive family (bio or found) and that really helps. It doesn't alleviate the overall problem. Thus, we all need therapy (so the OP of that Twitter thread concluded).

I don't know that we ALL need it. And I for sure know that some mental health practitioners and therapy frameworks are quite harmful to marginalized people. I'm very lucky in that I have a great therapist and the treatment I'm getting is informed by my identity and background, not ignorant of it. Not everyone has that or has access to it.

What I do know is that we all need Community. True community offers true support, which is necessary for healing.

We also all need to know that our mental health struggles and our trauma are real and valid, even if they don't look or manifest the way we've been conditioned to recognize them. Don't let anyone invalidate your experience or mental health struggles because you don't fit into a specific, wrongly-labeled box.

And don't let anyone tell you that this society isn't out here traumatizing you, because it is. Society doesn't need to be this way. But here in The (European Colonizer Created) West, that's what those with more power have chosen for the rest of us. And it sucks.

I have nothing but hugs and empathy for all the other people out there experiencing this. The only piece of advice I have is: Find community, hold on tight to each other, be that oasis of Okay that others need and they'll be that same oasis for you. <3

[greatbigbellies]

Do you have any tips for starting a kink blog?

Yeah! I have a few I can share! One size does not fit all but I've certainly learned some things that inform my approach.

Remember above all that it's supposed to be enjoyable. If you start a kink blog and it feels like a time sink or a chore, then it might not be for you, or you could be spending more time on it than you really should. This also means that the time and energy you have to dedicate to a kink blog is going to fluctuate. You might pop off one week and not log into it at all another, and that's okay. You should run it at the pace you enjoy. This also means when you feel a dip in sex drive and the kink stuff isn't hitting like it usually does, take a break so you don't burn yourself out.

Queue is your friend. As are tags. Honestly 1 post a day works wonders, cause you can load up around 15 posts at once and be covered for a couple of weeks. Having a solid and consistent tag system for yourself is also great. You don't need to overload it with specificity, but have some for different kinds of media (writing, video, gifs, audio...) is helpful, and being able to tag different facets of your kink is great for when you OR your followers need to scratch a specific itch. Like for me and my preg kink blog, whether the belly is bare or not, if there are lots of stretchmarks, if it's fpreg, mpreg, or nbpreg... all good things to keep sorted. Also try to keep the meaning of your tags really obvious (that sounds like a no-brainer, but I used to use a tag meant for when clothes were too small for a bump, but it just came off as me complaining that the belly was too small, which actually resulted in me need to talk to an artist to get a block lifted, oops!)

Related to the above, if you produce original content, be it art, writings, audio, whatever, have a tag for that too. Makes sifting through your original stuff and reblogs much easier, and lets people find your stuff even just searching tumblr wide.

LABEL. EVERYTHING. AS. MATURE. If you're running a kink blog, minors should not have any way to see it, and the easiest way to do that is to slap a "sexual themes" label on it. Covers your ass and keeps people who should not be able to look from looking. Even if the kink is pretty innocuous, it's best to play it safe.

Pinned posts are especially useful for kink blogs for setting boundaries, and telling newcomers what they'll see right off the bat. It doesn't need to be enormous, but just a little intro and a list of expected kinks someone will find on your blog helps keep people informed so they know whether or not to follow.

Don't be shy about blocking people. If someone posts stuff that makes you uncomfortable or is being shitty, just block em and move on. On the flipside, respect other people's boundaries, and remember that if you find yourself blocked by someone, remember it might not even be personal and just be a blog content thing.

If you do make kink content involving yourself, like pics or videos, protect your identity. Just play it safe, don't show your face and obscure identifying tattoos. Odds are low it'd come back to be a problem, but they're not 0, so just play it safe for yourself. Both for potential work/career hang ups and to minimize stalking or doxxing.

I'll reblog with more later if I think of it. I know half of this applies to blogs in general, not JUST kink blogs, but other than there being inherently sexual content, they're not that different. Please send any follow up asks if you have further questions, and if you decide to start one, good luck and have fun with it!

[cha-melodius]

Oh my goodness, I've just seen your fic festival request post and am excited to sneak in to participate before it closes. I love your writing and your stories so very much!

My prompt suggestion is... firstprince in Edinburgh, Scotland... in particular, the Edinburgh pride parade (if I may be so oddly specific). AU welcome, canon welcome, makeouts welcome, ahem.

Thank you and good luck wrangling everyone's prompts!

(Firstly, I have to say I love your url and your profile pic! Secondly, this is heavier on the Pride and lighter on the Edinburgh as far as the details go, but I hope it delights. Inspired in part by a tweet shared on tumblr; rated M for dick jokes. Happy Bisexual Awareness Week!)

Something To Be Proud Of

(firstprince, 3.3k, M; read it below or on AO3) read all the fandom fest fics

Henry stares at the carbon copy of the email in his inbox and wills time to go backwards. Just a few minutes, that’s all he needs. Enough time to go back and keep autocorrect from transforming whatever he’d typed after ‘he’ in his pronouns after his name into… that.

Thank you so much for all your help. Together we can make this a truly exceptional Edinburgh Pride. Regards, Henry Fox (he/hung Sent from Outlook for iOS.

How had he not seen it before he hit send on an email going out to every volunteer on their mailing list? How had he not noticed?

Maybe no one else would notice either. No one looks at email signatures that closely, right?

~~~~~

Ok, he’s not delusional enough to think that no one noticed. He had, however, naively believed that everyone would recognise it for what it was and politely ignore his gaff. He gets away scot free for a few days, and then, at the end of an email sent by a volunteer that is mostly as expected, he sees:

Best, Alex (he/him) PS: not sure I did the pronouns right. Does ‘Pride’ over here include being proud of your big dick?

It’s a damned good thing that he wasn’t taking a sip of his tea at the time, or he might be wearing it instead. Once he’s finished choking on nothing and perhaps isn’t quite the colour of a tomato (oh, who is he kidding, of course he still is), Henry professionally answers Alex’s questions about the schedule for the day of the march. He pauses before the sign off, wondering if he should acknowledge the flub or pretend it never happened. In the end, he writes:

Regards, Henry (he/him) PS: Your pronouns look correct to me, but they are, of course, your choice.

He only checks the email about ten times before he sends it. Hopefully, that should be the end of it.

~~~~~

It’s not.

Apparently, Alex has more questions. Apparently the law firm he works for is one of this year’s sponsors and is interested in potentially running a free legal clinic associated with the festival. A noble endeavour, which Henry is only too happy to assist with. He makes a mental note to look into logistics with Kate, the event’s chair, and continues reading. Finding out that Alex is apparently mature enough to be a lawyer lulls him into a false sense of security, though. At the tail of the email, he finds:

PS: regardless of the size of your dick, I’m impressed by the balls it takes to not acknowledge the typo. Then again, maybe it wasn’t? PPS: I’m trying out new pronouns. How do you think (daddy/sir) would go over?

Henry does spit his tea all over his phone this time.

He doesn’t email Alex back right away, but that’s because he has to wait to hear back from Kate. It has nothing to do with the fact that the prospect of dragging this interaction out longer is both horrifying and vaguely thrilling. Henry has noticed that he uses Americanised spellings in his text, which seems to fit with his general demeanour. It piques Henry’s curiosity, even though the thought of actually having to face Alex in person still makes him flush automatically. Eventually he gets an email from Kate that includes additional questions for the firm, as well as telling him that he can pass it off to someone in sponsor coordination. He is, after all, just the volunteer coordinator for the march. This need not involve him.

He still emails Alex back with the questions. And:

PS: Although I support your creativity, I am concerned those pronouns may not be appreciated in a professional setting such as, for instance, a court of law. Just a thought. However, I do suspect they might be rather popular at Pride.

~~~~~

They keep on exchanging emails, even though Henry should have sent Alex’s contact info to sponsor coordination ages ago, even though it becomes clear that Alex is not the one who will be ultimately responsible for the clinic either. On every one, there is a postscript in which Alex makes some kind of joke about the size of Henry’s dick.

do you have to get all your pants specially made with extra room in the crotch

do you have to check your dick as luggage when you fly

have you ever used it as a tripod

is your dick in another time zone

do you call your dick Sir Richard because it’s that prominent

In turn, Henry responds as dryly as possible, which only seems to encourage him. Oddly for someone who is volunteering at the event, Alex seems to have a lot of questions about Pride itself, as though this is the first one he’s attending on any continent. They exchange emails almost right up to the day of the march itself, but if they do taper off, Henry is too busy to notice. Coordinating volunteers for something as big as Edinburgh Pride is intense, and the days tick by before he even knows it.

He’s standing off to the side at the volunteer check-in tent on the morning of the march, going over some last minute logistics with one of his staff, when a voice carries over the hubbub, deep and rich with an out-of-place American accent.

“Sorry, but I was hoping… is Henry here?”

Henry straightens up and turns toward the voice only to find perhaps the most stunning man he’s ever seen standing at the front table. Dark, curly hair, a sharp jaw, big brown eyes with the longest eyelashes Henry has ever seen— he’s actually impossibly beautiful. Unbelievable, really. As is the fact that he’s asking for Henry.

“Hello,” Henry says as he walks over to the front. “How can I help you?”

The man’s eyes snap over to him, and he very clearly looks Henry up and down and swears, “Jesus fuck,” under his breath. Then his eyes come back up to Henry’s face, and he swallows. “You’re not Scottish.”

Henry cocks an eyebrow at him. “Neither are you.”

“Yeah, sorry. I just— need to adjust what you sound like in my head,” he says nonsensically. “I’m Alex?”

Oh.

Oh, Christ.

Henry should have known, because how many other Americans could there be volunteering at Edinburgh Pride? That reality does nothing to help him cope with the situation presented before him, though, in which this is the man who’s been teasing him about the size of his dick for the last month.

“I, uh,” he says eloquently as he tries to pull himself together. There are far too many people standing around watching this exchange. “Hello. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Did your firm get everything sorted with the clinic?”

“Oh,” Alex says, blinking. “Yeah, thanks. Look, I’m sure you’re busy, but I have something for you?”

It kind of comes out as a question, and he’s scratching the back of his head uncertainly, so even though Henry has no idea what’s coming, he nods. Then Alex reaches into his pocket, fishes out something small and round, and places it on the table between them.

It’s a button. A pronoun button, not unlike the one Henry’s already wearing, but instead it reads: he/hung.

Henry’s eyes snap up to find Alex grinning at him with the kind of mischief that Henry honestly should have expected from him sparkling in his eye. “Wanted to make sure you were prepared,” he says with a little one-shouldered shrug. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Then he takes his volunteer t-shirt and saunters off—and Christ those jeans are ridiculously tight and doing everything for his arse—leaving Henry gawping after him. A moment later, one of his regular volunteers, Robin, bustles by, catches sight of the button, and lets out a sound that can only be described as a cackle.

“My god, it’s perfect,” they say. “Did he really make this for you?”

Henry can only sigh, dragging a hand over his face. “It appears so. Robin, can you do me a favour?”

“Make sure you’re working the same stations all day?” they surmise. Henry doesn’t need to look to imagine the knowing grin on their face.

Henry wants to say no. Just because Henry’s already managed to combine the affection engendered by their previous email conversations with Alex’s stunning good looks into a powerfully intoxicating cocktail of a crush—well, that’s on Henry and his poor decision-making.

Instead, he says: “Yes, exactly that.”

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Alex had only signed up to volunteer at Pride on a whim. He’s always complaining that he doesn’t know anyone in Edinburgh outside of his coworkers, and one such coworker—someone that he could safely call a friend—suggested that getting involved in the festival would be a good way to meet people. Alex had tried to explain that he wasn’t actually queer, but she’d just given him an odd look and told him that allies were welcome at Pride too. It had felt a little weird signing up despite her assurances, but also kind of good. He was finally going get out there and have a life beyond his job.

He certainly hadn’t expected to strike up a prolonged email exchange with the volunteer coordinator, Henry. He also doesn’t really know why he kept finding excuses to send him new messages, except for Henry’s responses to Alex’s stupid jokes made Alex imagine him rolling his eyes and trying not to laugh, which only egged Alex on further. It was fun. That’s all.

Nothing about any of this made him prepared to show up to the volunteer check-in tent  today and be plunged directly into a sexuality crisis. But that seems to be exactly what’s currently happening now that he’s been confronted by quite possibly the hottest man he’s ever seen. Alex doesn’t even get it because it’s not like he hasn’t been able to objectively appreciate attractive men before, and blond hair and blue eyes have historically never really done it for him. Even if they are combined with swooping cheekbones, and broad shoulders, and obscenely full, pink lips.

All he knows is that as much as this doesn’t make sense, it also suddenly does. Why he’d felt drawn to sign up in the first place. Why he spent the last month reading about the history of Pride in Edinburgh and around the world. Why he’d gone on a deep dive doing research about different sexualities, brushing it off as wanting to be informed before meeting new people.

Why he was so obsessed with Henry’s dick.

Jesus fuck.

He thinks he manages to hold a short conversation. Somehow he even gives Henry the custom button he brought as a joke, smiling the whole time like he’s not moment’s away from dropping to his knees. He flees the table safe in the knowledge that Henry will likely be too busy coordinating stuff all day and Alex probably won’t see him again. That confidence is shattered when, not even an hour later, Henry shows up at the station Alex is supposed to be working. He’s even wearing the joke button, under his regular pronoun button and next to a little rainbow flag pin. Alex is going to die.

“Oh hey,” Alex says in a reasonable facsimile of nonchalance. “Did you need me for something?”

“Not exactly,” Henry replies. “I’ll be working this station too.”

Yeah, Alex is definitely not going to make it through the day.

~~~~~

It actually turns out to be not as bad as he feared, despite how Henry’s volunteer t-shirt is probably a size too small (never mind that in the context of everyone else at Pride he looks downright conservative) and Alex keeps getting caught staring at his shoulders or his back or his waist. Henry keeps on giving him weird looks at the beginning, probably because he’s expecting Alex to be cracking crude jokes. Too bad Alex is way too wound up in his own head to think of anything at all.

They’re pretty busy all day, but they do get a chance to chat occasionally, mostly small talk stuff about jobs and how they both ended up in Edinburgh. Henry is there for grad school, apparently, and has been volunteering for Pride since he moved out from under his grandmother’s restrictive shadow. In turn, Alex tells him about applying for the law job on a whim, desperate to set himself apart from his parents, and how much he likes Edinburgh (despite the weather). As the day stretches on and the streets fill up, Alex feels himself relaxing into his skin again, undeniably enjoying the festivities as well as Henry’s company.

See, the other thing he never, ever expected is how good it feels to be here. All the people around him loudly comfortable in themselves, and the color and glitter and celebration— it’s amazing, but it’s not just that he’s watching other people be happy. There’s a kind of ecstatic joy that bubbles up inside him at the fact that he’s part of it, one that he feels down to his bones. A sense of belonging that he’s never really experienced before, and that, more than anything else, makes him more certain of his newfound revelation.

Straight people probably don’t feel like this at Pride.

At the end of the day, he’s helping pack up the main volunteer tent when he comes across a table full of pins depicting different pride flags. He dimly remembers seeing them when he’d checked in and thinking that none of them applied to him. Now, he stares down at them and bites his lower lip uncertainly.

“There’s a box for those under the table,” Henry tells him from across the tent, misinterpreting his hesitation.

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Alex says, and Henry’s already turning back to whatever he’s doing when he manages to continue, “Hey, can I— um, can I take one of these?”

Henry stops, his brow creasing as he tips his head slightly. “Of course. That’s what they’re there for.”

“Right, thanks,” Alex says with a tight smile.

He puts his hand out, hesitates, then picks up one with pink, purple, and blue stripes. Stares down at it for another moment before he realizes he’s probably being weird and he’s pretty sure Henry is still watching him. He swallows hard, then pins it to his shirt next to his pronoun button.

No one jumps out to call him out for being an impostor. Henry offers him a careful smile, then turns back to his work like he knows Alex needs a moment to himself. He lets his fingers rub over the surface of the pin, feeling the little enamel ridges, and something settles under his skin, like an itch he hadn’t even been aware of until it was gone.

He feels almost normal by the time Henry walks up to him once they’re finished and everything is packed away in someone’s car.

“Thanks so much for your help today,” Henry says. 

“It was my pleasure,” Alex replies, and means it more than he can say. “I’m really glad I decided to sign up.”

“I realize you may very well be tired of my face at this point, but if you don’t already have plans, I was wondering if you’d like to go get a drink?”

Alex would like to make a joke about how it might be literally impossible to get tired of Henry’s face, but at this point he’d probably fuck up and confess his undying love for a guy he just met. “Sounds great,” he says instead, looking around at where a few of the other volunteers are lingering nearby. “Do y’all usually all go out together afterward?”

Henry coughs slightly and glances down at the ground for a few seconds as his cheeks turn faintly pink. “Well yes, a group of them usually do. But I was actually asking if you wanted to go out with me,” he says. “Just the two of us.”

“Oh,” Alex breathes as his stomach decides to do a backflip. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Spending all day volunteering with Henry was fun. Going on a date with Henry, being the sole focus of his attention, is intoxicating. Alex feels like he could sit here all night listening to Henry talk about his research on queer history, although that’s far from the only thing they talk about. As the night wears on and the pub slowly empties, Alex is buzzing with a few drinks and the euphoria of really clicking with someone, already wondering when would be too soon to ask Henry out again.

Henry shifts slightly so his legs press against Alex’s where they’re tangled together under the table—have been for several hours, actually. He’s playing with the stirrer in his empty glass, and a little teasing smirk sneaks onto his lips as he looks up at Alex.

“So you made me a custom pronoun button but forgot your own?”

“Ah, you know,” Alex replies with a shit-eating grin and a one-shouldered shrug, “thought it would be too distracting, what with how everyone would be hitting on me all day.”

Henry hums thoughtfully, biting back a wider smile. “If you wanted to avoid that, you probably should have chosen some looser trousers.”

“That’s fair. I suppose you had to go for the room in yours.” Alex pauses a beat. “You know, on account of the size of your dick.”

That makes Henry actually laugh and shake his head fondly. “I was waiting all day for that.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Alex says, chuckling along with him. It does feel like he owes Henry something of an explanation of why he was so weird all day. He looks down and licks his lips. “Can I confess something?”

“Of course,” Henry answers with a small, encouraging smile.

“A friend of mine suggested I volunteer for this because I wanted to meet people. Make new friends. But until today I actually thought I was… mostly straight?” Alex admits, trying not to wince as he stares fixedly into his empty glass. “Being part of this made me realize why I always felt a little like I wasn’t my whole self. So I was… kind of going through it a bit today.” He pauses, then adds, “Also you’re so ridiculously fucking hot that you kind of melted my brain.”

Henry laughs again, but it’s softer this time. Gentle. Alex kind of wants to sink into the sound. Henry’s cheeks are slightly pink as he extends a hand across the table, and Alex doesn’t hesitate before he slides his hand into Henry’s and links their fingers together.

“I’m glad to hear that, Alex,” Henry says. “I mean, the feeling like your whole self part. Not the brain melting part,” he adds, and Alex can’t help but laugh with him.

Henry doesn’t let go of his hand as they walk outside, and once they’re alone on the sidewalk he uses it to pull Alex close. He puts a hand on Alex’s hip and Alex has to tip his head up to look at him, and it’s a lot but he’s also pretty sure he’s never wanted anything more than to feel Henry’s lips pressed against his.

“I have a confession too,” Henry murmurs as he stares down into Alex’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been dreaming of kissing you since the very first moment I saw you.”

Alex lets one corner of his mouth tug upwards. “What’s stopping you, baby?”

“Christ, Alex,” Henry breathes, looking momentarily overwhelmed, but then he’s pressing his lips to Alex’s, and Alex feels his blood sing. It’s brief and chaste and leaves him aching for more, but then Henry looks down at him with heavy lidded eyes and asks, “Given your recent personal revelations, would it be terribly forward of me to ask you back to my place?”

“Ask away, sweetheart,” Alex replies, then he reaches up to touch the side of the ridiculous he/hung button that Henry is still wearing for some reason. “I wanna find out how accurate this button is.”

(It doesn’t take long for him to find out that the answer is: extremely.)

[disasterofastory]

The pretty little actress of Rogers + Script (Steve Rogers x Reader)

The pretty little actress of Rogers + Script // Extra chapter for The pretty little actress of Rogers Steve Rogers x Reader Mafia AU Warnings: smut

Summary: Steve helps you with your lines.

A/N: The script part is from here. And this is the third chapter I post today because my kinktober will be busy with another fandom. Enjoy!

"What are you doing?" Steve asks you from behind. Soon, his chest is pressed against your back, and his warm breath fans over the curve of your neck as he leans closer to see the papers in your hands. You let yourself fall back against his body, and he keeps you steady on the chair with his arms around your middle. "I try to learn my lines," you reply, eyes still on the black ink. "And how is it going?" he hums questioningly. You shrug. "I hoped it would go better." "I could help," he suggests after a few seconds. Surprise shows on your face as you lean away from him to look back over your shoulder. "You would?" You ask. "Of course," Steve smiles. "I can try."

"Are you ready?" You ask Steve when you are in the living room, your papers now in his hands. Both of your stand in front of each other in the middle of the room. "Yes," he nods, running over the lines one more time before his eyes find yours.

"God knows what he'll say, Jim," You sigh. Your voice is different. There is a slight despair and sadness in your tone. Steve grunts his answer. "Let 'im. He's come too late, that's all." "He couldn't come before." You shake your head. "I'm frightened. He was fond of me." "And aren't I fond of you?" His arm slides around your waist, pulling you against his body. It's not in the script, but you don't say a word. "I ought to 'a waited, Jim; with 'im in the fightin'." You continue. Your hand rests on his chest. You can feel the beating of his heart under your palm. Steve's voice gets passionate with a hint of anger. His arm around you tightens. "And what about me? Aren't I been in the fightin'—earned all I could get?" Your hand moves up to his face as you gasp. "Did you—?" You shake your head. "Not like you, Jim—not like you." Steve grunts again. "Have a spirit, then." "I promised him." "One man's luck, another's poison." "I ought to 'a waited. I never thought he'd come back from the fightin'." "Maybe 'e'd better not 'ave." He replies grimly. You find it hard to do your part of the scene. Steve's arm around you is firm, and his face is hard and fits into the role perfectly. "Daisy, don't you never go back on me, or I should kill you, and 'im too." Her threat makes you gasp again as you start to tremble. Cupping his face, you kiss him. It's short and soft, but enough to light the fire in your lower belly. "I never could," you breathe out. "Will you run for it? 'E'd never find us!" You shake your head. "What's the good o' stayin'? The world's wide." His blue eyes go back and forth between you and the paper he holds in his other hand. The lines roll off his tongue easily with the right tone at the right time. "Jim, do you love me true?" He pulls you even closer after your question. Your whole body is pressed against his. Your nipples harden at the feeling of his hard chest. "I ain't ashamed—I ain't ashamed. If 'e could see me 'eart." "Daisy! If I'd known you out there, I never could 'a stuck it. They'd 'a got me for a deserter. That's how I love you!" "Jim, don't lift your hand to 'im! Promise!" You are loud and desperate as you beg. "That's according." "Promise!" You beg. You have to force yourself not to smile the whole time you play your roles. Steve is really talented, even though you can feel the hardness in his pants pressing against your hipbone. It's not really professional, but you don't complain. "No fear! Shan't 'ave no need for it like as not. All right, little Daisy; you can't be expected to see things like what we do. What's life, anyway? I've seen a thousand lives taken in five minutes. I've seen dead men on the wires like flies on a flypaper. I've been as good as dead meself a hundred times. I've killed a dozen men. It's nothin'. He's safe, if 'e don't get my blood up. If he does, nobody's safe; not 'im, nor anybody else; not even you. I'm speakin' sober." Your voice softens again. Your hand slips down around his neck. "Jim, you won't go fightin' in the sun, with the birds all callin'?" He grunts. "That depends on 'im."

And with his last line, he drops the papers to cage you against him entirely. He kisses you vehemently and roughly. He bites into your lower lip, demanding entrance to lick into your mouth when you moan at the light sting. "It's not in the script," you state against him as you gasp for air. Your lips are already swollen and burning. "I think it should," he pants, leaning back to you again. "Oh," you grin teasingly between his kisses. "You think someone else should kiss me like this?" Both of you know it's a joke. Whatever happens on the stage stays on the stage, but Steve still growls with disapproval. "Hell no," he replies. His large hands slip down to your ass, groping the soft flesh before hauling you up to curl your legs around his thin waist. "You should only kiss me," he rasps. "These lips," he continues, biting your lower lip again to pull on it, "are mine." "Yours," you hum. "And these tits are mine to play with." He let you fall on the kitchen counter. Legs spread open. His thumb ghosts over your nipple through your shirt. You nod and mewl the whole time. Steve makes you dizzy and desperate for more. "And this pussy..." His expression is firm and determined. You have to hold onto the counter as he frees you from your jeans and panties. The fabrics fall to the ground carelessly. His dark gaze is already between your legs. Your wetness is smeared on your inner thighs and glints under the lights. "This sweet, tight cunt is mine to taste and fuck." "Yes," you moan. His hands slide from your knees to your hip to pull you to the edge. The marble is cold under your bare bottom. "Tell me, Sugar," Steve orders. "Tell me whose pussy this is." "It's yours, Steve," you reply immediately. You would say and do everything he wants. "And don't forget it."

Steve falls on his knees in front of you, putting your legs over his broad shoulders with ease. The new position gives him a great view of your slick center. Your clit throbs and aches with need and impatience. "Please, Steve," you cry. Your hips push up on their own accord. "I need you." He doesn't answer. His long fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, keeping you in place, and without any warning, he dives into your pussy. He feasts on your wetness while his home is filled with his grunts and your moans. Every lick and swirl of his tongue makes the coal in your stomach burn more. Your thighs around his head tighten, but Steve doesn't complain. If he has to go like this, he will go as a happy man. His plump lips seal around your clit, sucking it as if his life depends on it. The sudden, almost painful feeling sucks every air from your lungs and every coherent thought from your mind. You moan and wail under his attack. "Steve," you cry out his name. Your arms shake as you try to keep yourself sitting. "SteveSteveSteve." He growls in approval, licking a long stripe on your burning pussy. "Cum for me, Sugar," he says. "Make a mess on my face." And you do. The moment his attention is back on your clit, you cum. Your eyes close shut, your lips fall open, and your throat is hoarse from screaming and chanting his name without pause.

Your hands find Steve's shoulders when he stands up between your legs. His face is wet with your juices. His eyes are still dark and ready for another round. "What," you pant. "What happened to you?" The words are slurry and barely louder than a whisper. Your whole body trembles and twitches from the remains of pleasure striking through you.

Steve smirks at your airy question. The confession of him getting a hard-on every time he sees you play is for another time.

[olderthannetfic]

I feel a lot more excluded and isolated in fandom than I used to back when I first joined around 2015.

I know it was actually just luck that I happened to choose to follow a handful of people who made fandom feel this way, but there was this always such an inclusive vibe back then. Fic writers made it a point to kind of, invite their readers to stand on an equal footing with them. I remember the 'popular cool kids cliques' being writers and artists, but also including people who didn't make anything themselves. Very occasionally they'd make original posts but mostly their 'role' in fandom was just to talk to and support the people who made stuff, and they were still in all the inner circles.

Like there was an active effort to spread the message that you can be a part of the community, and your presence is important too, even just as an audience member - if you at least actively participate in the conversations sometimes. And I feel like it's fully turned back around now. Nobody wants mostly lurkers around anymore, public spaces are shrinking in favor of discord, and nobody is interested in trying to make friend with the rando who occasionally drops in to say a lot of nice things about your fics but who isn't good enough with people to try to get a conversation going.

Idk I just keep seeing fandom events or even polls where people will just hang out and chat and it's very clear that even if the event is fully unrelated to writing only writers are welcome and it makes me feel like shit. Making friends is never a walk in the park for me to begin with but now I feel like I have an extra obstacle to clear. I miss the feel I used to have of fandom being less cagey and ashamed and more welcoming.

TL;DR I wish I still had or could make some new fandom friends lol

--

2015, huh?

The bad news is that making friends was always potentially hard for the entire history of the world and will likely continue to be so aside from pockets of luck. The good news is that nothing has changed so radically since 2015 that you couldn't get lucky again.

I gotta tell you, as someone who gets approached a lot, has almost exclusively fandom friends, and loves people... Being expected to do all the work is a big, big turn off.

I'm always happy to see people who actively participate in conversations. That's not lurking.

I'm terrible with usernames or remembering people online as individuals if I haven't seen their actual face, but I do remember a lot of people who comment regularly here. There's someone I talk to all the time in private now whom I met through comments and who's one of my more treasured online friendships.

But if people truly are "mostly lurkers", I'm going to forget who they are. If someone is bad with people and therefore expects me to get every conversation going… well… that's pretty exhausting.

I think the biggest keys to friendship are finding people you're already naturally compatible with and then consistency. You have to find people who are a good fit, and you have to show up if you want them to know you care.

[sugurushimura]

Either I made this up or this definitely was a thing but I remember reading one of your posts about what higuchi's childhood was like and the economic situations of the time. at the end of the post you suggested you might expand on it in the future so I was wondering if you had any fresh thoughts on the topic?

yes, i mentioned this briefly in my higuchi analysis! @mikami also talked about this topic before here, and i recommend giving that post a read since it's a large part of what got me thinking about the circumstances of higuchi's youth in the first place.

i'm not a huge expert on the japanese economy, especially from before i was born, but i do have a few more thoughts on this. higuchi was born in 1972, at the very tail end of the japanese economic miracle. the 1973 oil crisis marks the end of it, but the japanese economy withstood the impact and remained strong (from my limited understanding) until the asset price bubble burst in 1992, which just so happens to be the year higuchi turned 20.

so higuchi grew up during a very strong time for the japanese economy. since he's from a wealthy family, i imagine he would have lived well even if the economy had been worse; what's more important imo is that times were good and the higuchi family was optimistic. since the japanese economic miracle started in 1955, depending on his parents' ages, it's possible that they didn't even remember a time before the miracle. (personally i think his father is older than that, but ymmv.)

higuchi grew up in a financially optimistic environment and had the idea that his bright future was not just a possibility, but a certainty. as he went through his schooling, i think he always had the idea that it was all stupid and not worth putting effort into since he was going to get a cushy corporate job when he grew up anyway. he was a mediocre student; he had enough resources to ensure that his work was passable, but was only rarely motivated enough to do particularly well. higuchi jiro, in my mind, was always a strict and cold man, and while higuchi never exactly fell behind his peers, he certainly fell short in his father's eyes.

more than academic success, i think higuchi focused a lot on his social standing and what his peers thought of him. unfortunately, he struggled to find somewhere he fit in. despite being a rich kid, the idea of rebellion was always cool to higuchi, and deep down he longed to be special and rebellious in a way that you can never fully be when you're trying (however halfheartedly) to live up to higuchi jiro's expectations. the other rich kids who he hung out with only tolerated him; every counterculture movement he brushed shoulders with rejected him. his luck with women was never very good, either; the few relationships he had in school were mostly shallow and ended unceremoniously. by the time he graduated, higuchi had grown into a somewhat lonely person thirsting for approval and belonging.

eventually he graduates and goes to university for the customary degree before setting out for an office job. i really don't think there was any significance in picking political science except that it's generally employable and seemed more interesting to study as an 18 year old than business or a similar degree did.

i've grown fond of the idea that at some point between high school and yotsuba, higuchi decided to quit college and flee to the states before very quickly being robbed of his illusions and returning to japan. i've tossed it back and forth, and i think what happens is this: the economy crashes in the middle of higuchi's college years, and he realizes abruptly that getting a job might be harder than he thought, and that the job itself will almost certainly be more difficult to maintain. he grows angry at the world for seemingly fucking him over right before he could've benefited from the economy as a working adult, and it occurs to him that maybe all this work won't be worth it in the end. in a moment of anger and desperation, he books a plane ticket to america, embarking on what was supposed to be some sort of glamorous soul-finding journey. this doesn't go as well as he'd hoped, and ultimately he returns to japan with a man his father hired to find him. this unpleasant, embarrassing experience resigns higuchi to the corporate life he'd planned on previously.

so ends his life as a child and begins his life as a childish adult, and so cements a strong "i deserve better than this and everyone/the world is out to undermine me" complex. i guess that's what happens when you don't get the future you feel you were promised.

[kizzywh]

Ever After (Spencer Reid x Reader)

This switches between two points of view.

Content Warnings: suicide attempt, mentions of self-harm, mentions of kidnapping and torture, some angst, happy ending. DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST IF IT WILL TRIGGER YOU. FANFICTION ISN’T WORTH YOUR MENTAL HEALTH. 

Your Pov

I’d never expected to make it this far. Working in the BAU had been a dream come true. That is, until it wasn’t. I loved the team, even Hotch, who sometimes made himself impossible to love. But the person I loved the most was Spencer Reid. His dorky outfits, and the way he brushed his brown hair from his golden sun drops of eyes. Brown didn’t begin to do Reid justice. He was like an autumn day, like leaves in a puddle, after a rainstorm. The way his lips quirked into a soft smile, usually directed at something stupid I had said. Those lips that I could’ve kissed a thousand times. But I never did. He was the first person I wrote my note to. I left it on his desk, in a small brown envelope, tinged with sadness, but sealed with finality. There was only so much one person could take.

The last case had almost killed me. working on a case where I looked so similar to the unsub’s usual type, y/h/c hair, y/e/c eyes, it was a recipe for disaster. But I thought I could help. Get on the inside, destroy the unsub from the inside, out. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

~ 2 weeks earlier ~

“Guys, it’s the only way. None of you look like his type, and it’s the only way we can stop him from hurting more people.” I said, leaning back from the table in the round room. It was a local case, meaning we were all in our usual office. A pleasant change from taking the jet, I’d admit. I could see Spencer almost visibly balk at my suggestion, and he was quick to try to shut me down. “Absolutely not, y/n. it isn’t safe.” He stated, almost pleading with the room to agree with him; but of course, everyone knew just as well as he did that it was the only way.

“I don’t like it, but I cannot see another way to handle this case.” Hotch had finally sighed, a frown briefly passing over his darkened features; before he’d agreed, and you had soon found yourself in a local bar, taking in the view, with a small microphone on your stomach, with a gps in it, so you could immediately get back up. The team had stayed back in the round room. Somehow Garcia had managed to find glasses with a microscopic camera in them, so they could see exactly what I was seeing. I knew who I was looking for. Mysterious, charming man, with the social skills to charm whatever lady he wanted, and I could say that I was looking good, thanks to the makeover provided by Emily, JJ and Pen. Morgan had wolf whistled the second I walked out, in a tight-fitting red dress, and my hair curled. Even Hotch and Rossi looked impressed. Reid however, refused to meet my eye, almost choking on his words as he wished me good luck. Typical Reid.

Soon, a tall man approached, with a drink in hand, and sat by my side at the bar. “You are quite possibly the most beautiful woman in here, what is your name?” he asked, pulling out the full charm. I made sure to gaze into his eyes, so the team could see his face, before replying, “Bea.” The team had agreed I go with a fake name. It wasn’t worth the extra confusion. We chatted for a while, and I had to admit he was charming, easy to see how he had seduced so many women. He offered a drink, and I took it, knowing I’d watched the bartender pour it myself. It was safe. Or so I had thought.

He took the time to introduce himself. “Daniel, my lady.” It would’ve brought a blush to my face, except I knew what he was, and it almost repulsed me, but I had to play into the act. Laying a hand on his arm and laughing at what he said seemed to do the trick, because soon he was asking if I’d like to get out of this flashy bar. I nodded, making sure to keep an eye on him, as I followed him to the car. I was nervous, but I knew the team were right with me. They could extract me as soon as I had arrived at the unsub, or Daniel’s, holding location.

I begin to feel very sleepy as I get into the car, almost tripping on the step, but soon I am seated, and I felt so out of myself, that I didn’t notice the car lock turning, leaving me alone, in his car, with a monster himself. Trying to force my eyes open, I try to make conversation with him, acting flirty, but mostly, I almost forget why I am here. I am so tired.

When I awake, I’m tied to the ceiling, hanging by my wrists, and I almost cry out in pain. My glasses are gone, and a blurry figure falls into my vision. “You thought you were clever, eh y/n? you thought I wouldn’t guess your little game? Well, now your friends back at the bureau get to see what I can do to you, and there’s no way they can find me now.” That was the last of it I heard, before blows from a blunt object start hitting my body, and I fall unconscious again.

~ Back at the Office ~

“Guys, we have a problem. y/n’s tracker is going off in a parking lot, but her camera isn’t working, and I have no sound, I don’t think its connectivity issues, but oh my god, I think something is wrong.” Penelope almost shouted as she ran into the bullring. The team looked up, and Hotch was first to stand. “What do you mean it isn’t working, where is she Garcia?” hotch frowned, before going to the board. “The last coordinates, what are they for?” Penelope was close to tears, “it’s just a carpark, I’ve sent the coordinates to your phones, please find her. Please.” She sobbed out, before running back to her office to keep checking for any signs of life.

Emily was furious. She almost lost her mind when she found out y/n had disappeared. “We should’ve sent someone with her. Where the Hell is she and what is he doing to her?” she fumed, as JJ just slumped down in her chair, and even Derek couldn’t form a sentence or something clever to say. Spencer however, nearly broke. Y/n was one of his favourite people. She always got him his morning coffee and lent him books he’d finish within about ten minutes of being given them. They were like twin flames, and he adored her. Of course, he couldn’t tell her that. He got up and walked away, over to the kitchen, biting his lip so hard almost drew blood. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t feel, he was just numb. She had to be okay. She had to be.

The team could see spencer spiralling, and Morgan and Rossi were soon on the way to y/n’s last coordinates, while the rest of the team gathered in the round room. “So, what do we know about this guy anyway?” JJ asked, pointing to the board, expecting Spencer to reply instantly, but he just whispered after a brief pause, “rape, torture, murder.” Those three words were killing him. Who knew what they were doing to her?

“Guys. GUYS. We have a feed, it’s coming from a proxy server so I can’t triangulate it right now, but its y/n. I’m sharing it to the board now.” Garcia piped down the phone, staying in her office to try and keep herself calm. And sure enough, there was y/n on the screen, hung from the ceiling, while the unsub looked into the camera. “You thought you were so clever, sending Agent y/n in to see me? well. Boy, do I have a show for you.” He smirked, before walking over to y/n and tilting her chin. “My, she is truly remarkable, I am going to enjoy this.” He laughed, taunting the camera. A call came in from Morgan and Rossi. “Are you seeing this video of y/n?” Morgan yelled down the phone. “It’s being sent to all our phones.” And sure enough, it was. All you could hear was Y/n refusing to cry, as the unsub cut into her with various knives, and soon it was too much for her to handle. Her screams filled the round room. Penelope was sobbing, and so was JJ. Emily was so angry; she almost threw her paper on the floor. Hotch just looked pale, and Spencer, he almost threw up.

“Garcia, triangulate it NOW.” Hotch ordered, and Penelope obliged, sobbing through her tears, before shouting out some coordinates. “Go get her guys. Please.” Before hanging up and sitting in her office, her heart breaking.

Reid was the first in the car. He was furious, but he was terrified. The camera feed had cut off almost at the same time Garcia had read out the coordinates. Who knew what they’d find. “Right, when we arrive, the priority is taking down Daniel. He could hurt the rest of us otherwise.” Hotch ordered as they pulled up.

Your POV

I didn’t know how long I had been in this room, all I could smell was blood, and sweat, and I was in agony. I couldn’t stop the tears from falling, it was pain, it was torture, and he just wasn’t stopping. “Now, they think they know where we are y/n, so let’s give them something to see when they get here huh?” Daniel grinned, before continuing to cut and beat me. I didn’t think I could take much more. I heard vaguely the slamming of car doors, and I heard. “Daniel Carter. Put the knife down, and step away.” it was hotch. They had found me.

Then I felt the coldness of a blade against my neck. “If you shoot me, your precious agent dies too.” Daniel laughed coldly, pressing it almost deep enough to draw blood. I tried not to move; I was too exhausted to. The last thing I heard was a gunshot and felt the sharp graze of the knife on my neck, and Daniel drop to the floor next to me before I slipped back into a world of darkness.

Spencer’s Pov

Almost barging through the house, to the basement where y/n was, I could feel the tension in my head. She had to be safe. She is all I have. Pointing a gun at Daniel, I can see her hanging there, and it takes all my strength not to push that son of a bitch out of the way and get her down. I don’t know how much blood she’s lost, but judging by the floor, it seemed to be a lot. Finally, Emily manages to sneak behind, and shoot Daniel, and I push past them all, reaching for y/n, and fumbling with the restraints, before Hotch helps me gently remove her, and I carry her, bridal style, cradling her, shouting for medics. She opens those beautiful eyes and smiles at me, and I beg her to stay with me. she’s so cold.

~ Present Day~

Your Pov

I had made a full physical recovery, but mentally, it had destroyed me. I had nothing left to give. That’s why I had written the final note to Spencer. He had to know how I felt, before I was erased from this life, like the blood from a crime scene. Sitting on that lonely bridge, in the moonlight, I felt a sense of peace. This was really happening, I couldn’t fix my brain, but right now, I felt peaceful, calm. As if the last moments of my life were destined to be some calm ending to a tumultuous tale. I can hear owls in the distance, calling for their families, and I briefly recall the lack of my own family. Maybe it was just the way I was, maybe I was just unlovable, unfixable.

Spencer’s Pov

I was surprised to see a note on my desk, but I immediately unsealed it. Then froze. Y/N. she was going to hurt herself, commit suicide. There wasn’t time to call the team. I knew where she’d be. She thought I didn’t love her, and that she was going to be alone, she couldn’t heal herself from the wounds that that monster had inflicted on her. I ran for my car, driving well over the speed limit to the bridge, pulling up a few yards away, so as not to startle her into something impulsive, before beginning to walk toward her, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. There was something almost angelic in how she looked in the moonlight. “y/n. y/n, listen to me.”

Your Pov

There was a crunching on gravel, and as I look up, its Spencer. I cursed myself for choosing a bridge about which we had talked. He liked the architecture, the simple, almost British cobblestone bridge. I liked that it looked like something out of a fairy tale and thought it fitting that this would be the never after of mine. The moon bounces off his messy brown curls, and it almost makes me sigh. He never fails to look handsome, not even in the pale, watery light of the moon. “y/n. y/n, listen to me.” I heard him say, before he gently holds his hands up, walking closer. “You don’t have to do this.” He states, trying not to scare me, I note. “I do spence. I can’t do this alone.” I sob, shuffling closer to the edge. He panics, before breathing in, and walking to within touching distance. “I care about you, y/n, please, just listen to me.” but I can’t. I have to go now. I push forward, ready to fall into nothingness. But something, someone, is pulling me back. Spencer. He grips me tightly, falling to the path side and lays on the ground, clutching me close, I try to resist, but I can’t. I lie there with him, listening to both of our heavy breathing, and noticing those dragon puffs of air that only happen, when the air is crisp. He pulls us up to a sitting position and holds me by the waist.

“y/n. no. You’re not doing anything alone. I am here. I got your note, and I KNEW what you were going to do. Do you think I don’t love you? You couldn’t be more wrong.” He whispers against my hair, his lips pressed to my head gently. He reaches a slender hand to point at the moon. “You see that?” I nod, following his gaze, as he keeps an arm around me, holding me to him. “That is what we share. You are my moonlight. We are like the sun and the moon, constantly orbiting each other, sharing the same sky, somewhere. I love you; y/n. believe me. from the moment you walked into the office on your first day, almost tripping over my satchel and spilling your latte in my lap, I loved you.” He whispers more, stroking slow circles on my shoulder. I laugh at the memory. It hadn’t been one of my proudest moments. Even hotch had cracked a smile at it.

The breeze picked up, and spencer shivered, pulling me closer, and instinctively, I rest my head on his shoulder. “Spencer. I love you.” I mumbled, and he turned me to face him, smiling down at me with those golden eyes, almost hinted with silver in the moonlight. He’d never looked more angelic, and I told him that, his lips quirking into a smile, my favourite dimples on his cheeks. “I love you too y/n.” before softly, his lips brushed against mine, I kissed him back, shyly. This was what kissing spencer Reid was like? It was… magical. He gently increased the pressure of the kiss, cupping my chin with one of his hands, and I almost melted. I was hurting. And part of me didn’t think it would go away anytime soon, but I knew, and spencer knew, that he was never going to be far from me again.

The bridge had turned out to have a happily ever after, after all.

[businesscasualart]

i luv ur work, can I see a smal snippet of any fanfic ur working on👉👈 here’s a treat as payment🧁

AWWWW THANK YOU SM! I've posted so little work, I didn't expect anyone would care too much for my work, art or fanfic, as opposed to just like, my affinity for providing content for obscure characters and ships. <3 You are SO sweet, I'm crying TvT I'd love to share, it'd be an honor, treat or no treat as payment! Thank you for the treat tho XD

Okay, so, context: I've been in fandomless hell for a few months now. I can rely on the fact that I'll be bouncing back to and around the DC fandom every few months, but I'm absolutely directionless rn. The last thing I got working on is yet another Young Justice, Psimon/Devastation fic as always. I DO intend to write something else eventually, but I love Devapsimon <3

A friend requested this one RIGHT before I fell out of the YJ fandom into this period of nothingness. Now...you see...they don't watch YJ, they dislike superhero cartoons. They do know I love YJ tho.

I...don't...like...Omegaverse...BUT YOU SEE, MY FRIEND uh...got pretty big into it...in the Normalest way they could...If you don't know what it is, don't Google it.

My good, dear friend...requested of me...that the third fic I ever write...be a lil Psimon/Devastation Omegaverse fic for them and they PROMISE they'll pay me...somehow...presumably with a fic they'll write bc I KNOW they don't have money. SO FOR LIKE, three months, between fandomless hell, writing what I don't know, and KEEPING THIS THING PG-14...I've been writing that!

Maybe I'll convert it into a sickfic before posting it to Ao3! Bc I am so unsure about writing omegaverse and my abilities doing so. AND IT IS PRETTY MUCH A SICKFIC, I'm taking a very mild-hurt/comfort, mostly nesting, sickfic approach with it! I hope it's still enjoyable despite my long breaks writing it. I have to do some serious editing but rn I'm just trying to get it done! Wish me luck!

So uh

WIP Devapsimon Fic Snippet!

CW: uh, nothing really! There's not even much Omegaverse mention in this part...um...I don't know how to format a fic on Tumblr...there's an abundance of description of RV bunk beds...I can't find a good place to cut off the snippet...THIS IS ALSO VERY LONG FOR A SNIPPET, but this is my longest fic yet.... so uh...long preview! As a treat!

“D…Devastation?” He whispered hesitantly, torn between announcing his presence and not disturbing her rest.

Upon getting no response tried to gently, quietly push past the curtains but the metal curtain rings slowly drug against the metal bar making a screech that resounded in his ears and made him wince. 

He peered into the bunk section. It was darker than the rest of the RV, it took a minute for his eyes to adjust. 

It was honestly shocking how everyone could fit in here, it was a cramped ‘room’. If Baran or Tommy were to walk down the room, both of their shoulders would rub against the bunks lining either wall. Thankfully, the bunks themselves were of a decent size. 

They were built into the wall, like a shelf or cubby. They could hold a thin twin XL size ‘mattress’...well…really more so a foam pad than a mattress. However, the bottom bunk cubbies were decently tall, the larger Onslaught members still can’t really fit lying on their backs or sitting up, but they could fit just fine lying on their sides.

There were exactly six bunks, two on each side of the three-walled room. Additionally, hanging in the middle of the walkway between the two top bunks on the left and the right of the room, was a hammock. Cameron generously set it up when they got the Terror Twins on the team and claimed it for himself. He claims it was to win Tuppence’s favor but Psimon is almost certain it was just regular generosity and self-sacrifice. 

Each bunk had different privacy curtains shielding the inside of the bunks; some decorative, some blackout, some sheer; but a few were left open. 

One such bunk had its curtains open. Thankfully, it was the one with the only small window in the room, on the wall inside the top bunk across from the entrance. It didn’t provide much light, especially since the dusty blinds as well as small curtains on it were drawn. 

There were also string lights lining the room, courtesy of Selinda, to provide a gentle light but they were left off during the day. 

It was relatively clear whose bed was whose. Everyone had a relatively distinct sense of style, or lack thereof. 

Selinda’s was a simple bed with everything in some shade of black and purple. Tuppences lined her walls and ceiling with decor like photos, stickers, and posters. The other mens’ bunks generally looked like the beds had been abandoned for eight years, but Tommy decorated his similarly to Tuppence’s, only simpler; Mammoth’s bed had a king-sized comforter shoved in there and the walls were scratched up; and Cameron’s...well, he had a hammock.

Psimon’s bunk was by far the most organized one but it doesn’t stand out. All neutral colors, made up neatly. He had two pillows, but only really used one. He, like a few others, had small organizers hanging on the walls. He never had many personal, sentimental items to bring on these missions, so he mostly kept business related papers, pens, a tablet for work, and the like up there.

Each set of twins shared the bunks on two walls and Cameron...had a hammock…so Devastation slept in the bunk under Psimon’s.

Her bed was also simple and mostly neutral tones, but messier…usually. She had two or three more blankets and pillows than usual, all strewn about, along with a couple clothing items. It was notably more crowded.

Psimon had no idea how Devastation would be comfortable in that mess, and perhaps she wasn’t, because she wasn’t even in her bed. 

She sat on the filthy, old carpeted floor next to her bed, leaning halfway into the bunk, her face buried in her arms. 

“Devastation!” Psimon gasped, dropping to his knees next to her, nearly dropping the bowl in the process. He set it on the floor next to him, placing a hand on her back and the other on an arm.

Her hair was taken down but not brushed, left messy and tangled. She had also changed into her nightwear, striped shorts and a sleeveless top. They seemed to have been a lavender-type color, but they’ve lightened and grayed out over time, as well as developed a couple of small holes in seams here and there. 

“Oh, Devastation…” Psimon, voice quiet and full of concern, never finished his sentence.

He struggled to pull Devastation upright by her shoulders, pulling her to rest against him so he could see her face. Once he managed it, her weight nearly knocked him back onto the floor but she seemed to regain enough awareness to somewhat support her own weight and not throw it all on him at once.

Her eyes were glazed and distant when they fluttered open. She furrowed her brow and her eyes slowly moved to look at Psimon, in an attempt to figure out what was happening but before she could, he laid his hand over her face. 

He kept moving his hand around her face, to both of her cheeks and to her forehead as if they’d yield different results, but the results were clear. Devastation’s skin was impossibly hot, hotter than before, even in the short time that had passed. It was wet with sweat and flushed all over from her own body temperature. 

Her glassy eyes finally found Psimon’s face, despite his hand’s frantic search for a more reassuring result. Her mouth hung open slightly, as if to speak, but she only took in short, ragged breaths. 

“Oh…Oh Devastation…”

[breelandwalker]

hello! I am very new to witchcraft and your blog has been very helpful to me as someone who does not have anyone i know to look to in real life :)

I have a question, is it okay to just,,, try things out in your craft sometimes because they make sense to you or it feels right? i dont mean saying that this herb means this because i say so, but like lighting a certain type of incense while you do spells not because its supposed to help with the intention but because it calms you. Today I enchanted a necklace for the first time after doing research and reading a lot about what other people do in their craft and did just that along with lighting some candles and opening windows despite no one mentioning that. i know this example is small, but there are a lot of things that i want to do because they make sense to me, but at the same time I don't want to make things up. i see people saying that its about intention and good to write your own spells and all that, but is that something i should be doing when im new to witchcraft? it's just really hard to tell if I'm doing things right sometimes.

sorry for such the long ask, thank you for your helpful posts :)

This is a good question and a good object lesson.

When you're first starting out with witchcraft, and even later as you go on, there are plenty of pre-written spells to try out and lots of correspondences to learn and tips to follow. However, it's important to remember that your craft is still your own. It's not going to be an exact match to anyone else's, and that includes using things in ways that make sense to you but may not match generally agreed-upon usage or correspondences.

This isn't to say that we should ignore common sense or cultural boundaries or safety measures, of course. (And good on you for including that from the start.) But part of learning magic and developing your craft is figuring out what works for you and what doesn't. Sometimes that means adapting a spell you found online or in a book to suit your needs and purpose. Sometimes it means using unconventional materials or using different correspondences than you'll find in a volume of Cunningham.

It may also mean creating your own spells, which is a fantastic exercise that I recommend to any witch of any experience level, including complete beginners. Even if they're clunky, even if they don't work, even you just write them as a creative exercise and never cast them, spellwriting is a great way to learn how magic works and how magical workings are put together.

It's not so much a matter of doing things the right way or the correct way as finding out how and why things are done at all, and from there, deciding which bits you want to do and what you're good at. So unless you're part of a dedicated tradition that has Rules about how these things should be done and is giving you formal instruction on the process, experimentation and experience are going to a big part of your education.

Dabbling is encouraged. Test things out to see what fits. If it works and you like it, learn more. If not, there's always another topic to explore. Making things up, testing theories, and seeing if they work a time-honored part of Finding Shit Out.

We don't learn to paint by expecting to produce a masterpiece overnight. Sketch. Practice. Make a mess. Try again. Find your style and don't worry about how it looks to someone else. The only person you have to impress is yourself.

I'm glad the blog is helping. Hopefully it will continue to do so. If you have more questions, my inbox is always open.

Best of luck to you, witchling!

[i23kazu]

say no to this

warnings – mentions of abuse in passing, it's not descriptive. also diluc cheats on you. honestly i'd tag this as suggestive because there's a bit of IMPLIED sexy times in this one but i didn't write it in!

characters – diluc x fem!reader [can be read as gn!reader if you'd like, but feminine terminology (wife, mother, etc) is still there]

a/n – the second part of my hamilton au! all lyrics go to lin manuel miranda, i don't take credit for any of it. i had to rewrite some parts of the song to fit the au! please reblog if you enjoyed this! the song is "say no to this" from hamilton :3 link to series post.

There's nothing like summer in the city, Ying thought. Someone under stress meets someone looking pretty – there's trouble in the air, even you can smell it. Our dear Ragnvindr's by himself: I think I'll let him tell it.

( diluc's pov )

I hadn't slept in a week – I was weak, I was awake. You've never seen a bastard orphan more in need of a break. Between longing for Jean and I was missing my wife – that's when Miss Donna Reynolds walked into my life.

The girl said, " Mr Ragnvindr, I know you are a man of honor. I'm so sorry to bother you at home, but I don't know where to go, and I came here all alone."

Reynolds added, "My husband's doin' me wrong. He's been beatin' me, cheatin' on me, and mistreatin' me. But suddenly he's up and gone, and I don't have the means to go on."

I sighed. The Reynolds family was a notoriously broken one – James Reynolds was a gambler and a drunkard, a wife beater, even. Donna Reynolds took the brunt of it all.

Therefore, I offered her a loan and offered to walk her home – I was luckily she lived close by, otherwise I wouldn't have offered in lieu of the mountains of paperwork that welcomed me in my abode. Once we were out on the streets, Donna tapped my shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing – you're too kind, sir."

I felt a deep pity for her life, and gave her thirty bucks that I had kept away.

"I live a block away," she said. "This one's mine, sir."

Donna walked up the steps to her home, breath trembling. She placed her hand on

Then I said, "Well, I should head back home. Goodni-"

What I wasn't expecting was the matriarch of the Reynolds family to grab my wrist tightly, and pull me into her house.

"Mrs Reynolds, I really should be going-"

"Just follow me, Diluc." Donna turned red, and led me to her bed.

(WAHOO SEXY TIMES WAAAOW i'm not writing this shit.)

That was when I began to pray. Archons, show me how to say no to this. How do I not know how to say no to this? Barbatos, she looks so helpless. (And her body's saying, "Hell, yes.)

No, show me how to say no to this.

I don't know how to say no to this!

In my mind, I promise you, (Y/N) – I'm trying to go, but all of a sudden her mouth was on mine, and I don't say no.

I couldn't say no.

On my account, I wish I could say that was the last time – I know, I said that last time, but it became a pastime. A month into this endeavor with Donna, I received a letter from a Mr. James Reynolds, even better. It said:

"Dear Sir, I hope this letter finds you in good health And in a prosperous enough position to put wealth In the pockets of people like me down on their luck You see, that was my wife who you decided to-"

Fuuuuuuuu-.

"Uh oh, you made the wrong sucker a cuckold So time to pay the piper for the pants you unbuckled And hey, you can keep seein' my whore wife If the price is right, if not I'm telling your wife."

I hid the letter and I raced to her place. I screamed, "How could you?" in her face, but she said;

"No, sir!"

Donna was half dressed and apologetic: a mess, she looked pathetic, she was crying.

"Please, don't go, Diluc!"

"So was your whole story a setup?" I asked angrily, throwing the letter into her face.

"I don't know about any letter!"

"Stop crying, archons, dammit, get up!"

"I didn't know any better!"

"I am ruined! My career is ruined." I wanted to tear my hair out in that moment.

"Please, don't leave me with him helpless!" Donna was sobbing into my lap.

"I am helpless, how could I do this?"

"Diluc, please – just give him what he wants and you can have me!" I don't want you.

"Whatever you want, if you pay, you can stay! Please!"

Barbatos, show me how to say no to this. I don't know how to say no to this.

But this situation's helpless, right? Who am I to deny a person in need?

"There is nowhere I can go!" Donna cried. I couldn't think straight anymore, and I kissed the girl on my lap.

To tell you the truth, when her body's on mine, I don't say no. I can't say no.

Say no to this, Diluc.

Yes.

"So?" James Reynolds smirked, in my mind. I could picture that gleeful grin of that man when I give him the money.

Nobody needs to know. I'm sorry, (Y/N).

wahoo sorry i put this story on hold for so long!! hope yall enjoyed and dont worry the next part will definitely be better <3 please reblog with tags and comments :") i wont tag this with the astronetwrk tag because this is suggestive ueueue

[clovercoin]

CloverCoin Artpack 2024 March + Updates

[PATREON POST + ART PACK] Hey everyone... I see March is rounding the corner to being over and I realized I never actually make an official patreon post yet. A lot has been happening on our end / IRL. We recently found our we might need to move this summer... But thanks to a lot of back and forth between us and the new landlord we got a lease extension for 1 year to prepare our savings and safely move out to another place in town or around this town we are currently living in. After a lot of discussion between my husband and I, we're really struggling to find rental single family homes that fit our disability needs AND budget. Rent bubble in our area is about 70% more than our current rent which... is mind blowing. But we are determined! With further discussion we think we agree, we'd like to buy a house to make sure our needs are met and that we can take care of our senior dogs without having our lives uprooted without notice. So our belts are going to be really tight over the next year while we try to scrimp and save every penny to go towards our goal to purchase a house next year. That is scary but also so exciting! Wish us luck, we're going to need every lick of it to pull this off. ~~~ Other worse news... The reason why I've been struggling these past few weeks. My family has been reaching out to me and it's official. My mother has a terminal cancer diagnosis. I do not live near her, so I would like to budget a trip out to see her at some point this summer. We don't have any real time lines yet until we see how to reacts to chemo treatment. She's just started that this month. So that's been a weird tangle of emotions and talking with my siblings about what we expect out of all this. How we each can help in what ways we can. One of my older sisters is taking control of talking with the doctors and updating us since my mother is extremely avoidant about talking about her illnesses. At this time I won't be taking any time off from working and doing adopts/commissions. We need the money more than ever, even just to go fly or drive up to see her. But I will update on patreon/discord when I'm taking a week or so off to visit her. ~~~ More middling news? Our two senior dogs, Ollie and Junior, have been having little health scares this year. Feels like 2024 just started and so much has happened! Ollie has been diagnosed with a heart murmur and is on medication now to help treat it. Diet and life style changes as well to help him stay fit. Junior may have had a small seizure or stroke, for 2 days he was not able to stand or walk which really scared us. Both have been to the vet multiple times this year and are being watched VERY closely. I just hope nothing happens to them before we find them a new house to live in. (knocks on wood) ~~~ I myself am having some medical issues but... Just with everything going on I just haven't had time to assign myself with a new clinic and new gp. My new health insurance won't let me see the old one anymore and it's EXTREMELY disruptive to my whole life. So there's a chance my body might get a flat tire in the future, but I'll try to manage it accordingly. To end it all on a good note, I did finally finish my very last tooth filling / replacement and after a year and a half of constant dentist visits, my mouth is all fixed! Hooray!!!! Now we just have to tackle my jaw and TMJ problems haha. ~~~ I think... that's the big items of what's going on. Why I've been really absent online and for updates. Life just kinda had a weird downpour on us, but we're sorting it out. We signed a new lease. Prov is working very hard at his new job. The future is really scary for me right now and I'm really struggling. Please be patient with me while we go through these big life changes at this time. I'll be opening up new commission slots soon to start a monthly income to help with house savings. If anyone has pending commissions with me or trades, please never hesitate to DM me/poke me for updates. I've been a lot more disorganized more than usual lately and I am happy to give any updates or refunds as needed should anything come up that I can't handle. Sorry bout the long read everyone, but thank you so much for skimming through and keeping up with what's going on in my life. I've been desperately missing art more and more every day I spend away from it, so I look forward to sharing even more art with you all! Thank yo everyone for all your support! AJD . ART

[boredgramlin]

Nvm I'm posting it. It will also be on AO3 and Wattpad soon.

This is an Akatsuki modern AU fanfic. Although my ocs are the main characters I will try to focus on the canon characters mostly. The map and locations are the same as the Naruto universe's, except there is no ninja stuff. Clans however exist, they're kind of a giant family.

I gave each character some modern world style and status, as well as my headcanons of their sexualities and gender. Just keep reading and you'll see ;D

1st chapter - The first encounter

- Akane get your butt up and move, we're gonna be late! - Miyako yelled from downstairs.

- Calm down, I'm on my way! - her friend yelled back - And we're not late, we still have time!

- No we don't! The journey to the school takes half an hour and we barely have 25 minutes left!

This was the point Akane realized her time perception has fooled her again. They were going to the camp of their new high school, and it would have been very unfortunate if they didn't arrive on time.

- Damn it!

She quickly put her trainers on and grabbed a hair tie from the drawer to put her long red hair up with.

- Bye mum! Love you!

- Akane wait! At least take on a sweater! - her mother called after her, but she was already getting inside the car.

- Nevermind... - Yumeko sighed - Take care.

The engine started and they departed. After quickly checking if they got everything they need, the girls started to gossip about the latest episode of the Percy Jackson series which had been one of their favorite topics ever since it came out. Miyako loved the Underworld scenes more since it fit her style and Akane was more fond of the ones portraying the Camp. But they both agreed on the Grover scenes being the best.

To their luck, Miyako's stepfather, Ibiki was a fast driver.

They managed to get to the school being only 5 minutes late instead of 10 or 15.

- Told you we'd make it - Akane grinned, looking at her friend.

- We might have, this time. But you'll be late from your own wedding girl - Miyako rolled her eyes.

While she and Ibiki got their packages out of the car, Akane ran to inform the teacher they are here and intend to go to the camp with their new class.

- Good morning Guy sensei! Sorry for being late! - she apologized, panting.

- You arrived in the last minute but just in time! - the man gave her a broad grin - Get on the bus, I'll take care of your luggage.

- Thank you very much.

A sigh of relief left Akane and she gestured to her friend to join her.

-Man, that's a lot of people!

The bus had about 50 seats and they were almost all taken. Most of the students were giggling, joking and talking with each other. Though there were some just playing on their phone or nervously looking around, they obviously had no friends in the newly formed class yet.

- Wow, I didn't expect this many people... - Miyako muttered too as she saw how crowded the place really was.

With no free seats left next to each other, they had no other choice but to search for any place they could find.

- Hey Ane, do you wanna sit with me? - a tall, kind of shark-looking guy asked as they walked by his seat.

- Kisame? What are you doing here?

Akane was taken by surprise, but she was happy to see her old friend from water polo trainings there. She nodded and quickly sat down.

- Nice to see you again carrot head.

- Nice to see you too shark face - she smiled mischievously, then looked back up at Miyako who was still standing.

- You need a seat too? - Kisame asked the dumb question.

- Yeah it would be nice. I don't feel irresistible urge to stand through the whole three hours of the journey - Miyako confirmed with a sarcastic tone.

Kisame nodded in agreement, and after a few minutes of thinking he called out to a gray haired guy with black hoodie that had a writing on it, saying "Keep calm and shut the fuck up".

- Hey Hidan, can she sit with you? - he pointed at Miyako.

Hidan looked up from his phone and upon seeing the girl, a vicious grin appeared on his face.

- There's always room next to me for a beauty like her - he winked.

Miyako's expression screamed "Help me" but there was nobody to rescue her and no other free seat nearby, so she finally sat down, accepting her fate.

Akane was about to start nagging Kisame about how he ended up in the camp of Will of Fire High school when he said he was going to go to the Riptide Secondary Technical School. But then the teachers got on the bus too, and Gai sensei started to read the names out loud from his checklist. Most of the students' talking died down to listen to him but a few needed their peers reminding them to raise their hand.

- Momochi Zabuza.

- Here - a tanned boy near them answered.

- Unfortunately - Kisame added, whispering.

- Nagaki Miyako.

- Here...

Miyako desperately tried to avoid eye contact with Hidan, who on the other hand was making a huge effort to be noticed.

- Hinoro Akane.

Akane was zoned out for a minute, she barely realized they were calling her name.

- Oh yeah right I'm here - she quickly raised her hand too.

The list went on and on, at the end however a name caught her and her friends' attention as well.

- Uchiha Itachi.

- Here - a voice with a bored tone answered from the front of the bus.

Kisame, Hidan, and a blond boy gasped at the same time upon hearing the infamous family name.

- Uchiha? Aren't they that incredibly rich family?

- Yeah they are - a girl with purple hair, sitting behind Akane agreed.

- Uchiha Fugaku is a lawyer and councilor at the town-hall. And you know how good friends they are with the mayor...

- Fucking politicians - Kisame grunted.

- Yeah. But hey, if he's that rich and famous, why didn't he go to a fancy private school? What is he doing here?

- Maybe he's just spying on us - Zabuza guessed.

- He's better not, or else he's gonna have to return to his precious father beaten up - the shark gritted his teeth.

- Hey calm down, just because he's the child of Fugaku doesn't mean he's like him. I'm not like my father either and neither are a lot of us.

Akane attempted to calm Kisame down, and she was successful. His muscles relaxed and he let out a frustrated sigh.

- You're probably right. Sorry - he turned his gaze away nervously.

- Still, what is he doing here? - the blonde boy didn't want to give up until the question was answered.

- I don't know Deidara, why are you looking at me?!

- Because you're the girl and you're the only one I know here Konan! - he retorted.

- Well then... why don't we get to know each other? - Miyako suggested gently.

The whole group went silent for a second. This was a logical and quite obvious possibility.

- That is... Actually a decent idea...

The bus made a left turn and soon it was speeding on the main road, towards the highway passage. By the time they reached the highway, the small group was already familiar with each other's names and hometown.

Kisame and Zabuza were obviously from Kirigakure. Konan, Yahiko and Hidan from the Land of Rain, Deidara from Iwagakure. The boy's name sitting next to him was Obito, or Tobi on his nickname. He was quite antisocial at first but became the silliest guy once they've started chatting. He introduced his friends from Konoha, Itachi and Iruka, who were sitting on the seats behind him and joined the conversation soon. This made the "Leaf gang" the biggest in numbers, as it included Miyako and Akane too. Zetsu, probably the most quiet person you can ever meet was sitting next to Zabuza and reading some kind of book about plants. He was hard to include in the conversation in the beginning, but with Tobi, his attitude changed too and started participating.

- By the way Kisame how did you end up here? I thought you were going to the Riptide? - Akane asked once they were done with the introduction.

- Yeah right, it's one of the best schools around here based on the grades average. How'd you get in? - Zabuza teased.

- I'm good at biology, okay? - Kisame glared at him angrily.

- Yeah right you know the reproduction of sharks very well.

- Shut up.

- No.

- Asshole.

- Fish.

The argument would have went on if the three girls didn't end it with a firm "Guys, shut the hell up".

- It's been only like 20 minutes of you being near each other and you're unbearable already, hm - Deidara grunted.

The two just rolled their eyes like they were seriously offended, but a few minutes later they returned to talking with the others. Despite their quarrels with each other they were fun to be around and could undeniably crack the worst jokes known to mankind.

- Hey, look! - Hidan suddenly pointed at something, looking at it through the window - That big concrete whatever isn't supposed to be there, right?

All the members of the new friendgroup looked at the direction he was pointing at.

- No... Please not... - Zetsu whispered in genuine shock.

- There's no way...

To be continued :3