#but our dm started having me keep track of whos turn it is and their hit points

[newengland-alligator]

I cannot believe that all it took for me to start enjoying playing DnD was for my DM to give me a job :/

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

upon his grace 1

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, bullying, 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: You are called to court after the end of the civil war, but find yourself facing many challenges, expected and not. (fantasy medieval au)

Characters: king!Steve Rogers

Note: bro, Idk how I start at point A and get to fucking outer space. Also happy bday to Steverino.

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. 💖

The gardens of Astra Castle are unlike any you’ve seen before. Certainly, you’ve never been to a royal castle previously. Your father’s own hold is modest, still bearing the wooden foundation, whereas the rich lords have poured mortar and built in stone. 

So, it is a great honour to be among the noble women chosen to serve the queen. Most unexpected. As a daughter of a lower house, it is rather unusual, but it comes with the newly set writ tabled at the end of the uprising. That is how your father tells it anyhow. 

King Steven is as newly crowned as he is newlywed. After a lengthy revolt against the previous king, the land has settled, and upon his victory, the new ruler promises the expansion of prosperity to all. The very precedence of his war rested on the greed of the former court and its covetous lords. 

To those who took up his mantle, he has made good his word. To the commoners, he has sent bread and ale, livestock and alms; to the nobles, he has granted titles and lands. You were of the same doubt as your father, however, you expected to be forgotten in the disarray. 

Yet, you were not. You’re there with several other ladies. A set of blond twins borne of a duke and duchess, the sole heir of a widowed countess, and several earl’s daughters such as yourself. Unlike them, you do not wear satin or silk, not muslin either. You have only the dyed linen your mother attempted to enhance with some embroidery around the cuffs and collar. 

“Marcia and Marigold,” the twins introduce themselves as you cluster together in the gardens, grooms and servants bustling around carriages and chests. “Lady Calliope,” they call out the countess’ daughter, “we met prior, yes? Your mother is near Estrela.” 

“She is,” Calliope answers in her stern manner, herself seeming a widow in her black dress. The shimmery fabric makes up for its single tone. 

“Ameri, Dorida, and... Selene,” they point to the other girls, themselves clothed in scarlet, rose, and azure respectively. “We know the earls, your fathers. They gathered at our father’s hold for the battle near Caffre.” 

The twins take turns speak so that sometimes you cannot track whose lips are moving. It is even that they trade off in the middle of sentences. You find yourself almost as lost by their words as your new surroundings. 

“And you...” The twins turn their jade eyes upon you. It is there you have found the only difference in them; they have the same heights, the same hair, the same gowns even, but there is a sliver of grey through Marcia’s green iris. “We haven’t figured who you are.” 

“My father is an earl. In Woodsdam.” 

“Woodsdam,” they echo in unison and share a look. They are perplexed. 

“A minor house,” Calliope provides. “a farmer more than a noble, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“We have vast lands and we tend to them, yes,” you assure. You expect their condescension. Your father warned you for it but he bid that you keep your chin up. The king has given him a mission of his own and so you will represent the family for the time. “We keep our people well and we fed the king’s troops when they marched." 

“Mm, sounds very... common,” Marigold grins and her sister snorts into her hand. 

“We know many lords like us, yes. They work hard amidst their vassals. It keeps the lands strong so that we may better serve the crown,” you return evenly.  

Your mother helped you prepare. She coached you to keep your manners and your spine. The latter is much more difficult as you face these ladies and their bobbles with only a ribbon in your hair and a pair of patched gloves. 

“Woodsdam? I think I rode through it once on the way to my grandfather’s summer castle,” Ameri tuts, “it was little more than a swamp.” 

“It must’ve been the spring rains, perhaps, lady,” you offer. 

“Summer house,” she enunciates, “one travels there in the summer.” 

Your cheek twitches at her barbed retort. Very well. You are not used to their sharpness. Their chittering has thus far centered on gossip and the cost of their new caps. 

“A wonder the pauper’s daughter received an invite. Are you certain you can read, lady?” Dorida snipes and looks to the twins for approval. You notice how they all tend to do so. 

“It was sent to my father, Lord Eldon,” your voice quavers. You are not so strong as your mother bid you to be.  

They cackle at your meek response, “the precious maiden of Woodsdam.” 

You put your head down as the activity all around threatens to swallow you up. You wish the ground would rent and you would fall right through. All your excitement has dissipated to a sludge in your veins. You touch your cheek as you try not to show your embarrassment. 

“The Lord of Woodsdam,” a deep voice startles you as boots approach from behind, “is that what I heard?” 

You stiffen up as the ladies before you hush and blink, almost in tandem. They curtsey as their faces wash over in shock and you turn to face the newcomer. A man in a deep blue vest over black sleeves and grey breeches. He wears belt of gold and a circlet across his brow in a similar hue. It is that which betrays his statues. 

You lower your eyes and mimic the other women, mortified to be faced with new king so informally. You would not think him wandering out in the yard. Still, he has vowed to be unlike the former leige. That he would be of the people. 

“King Steven, your majesty,” the others titter in a messy chant and you murmur your own propriety as you back away. You find yourself still to the shoulder of the king as the other ladies give no room for you to join. 

The vision of him stains your mind. He is tall, with dark blond tresses that extend past his neck, and blue eyes which put his own attire to shame. He has a jaw which looks etched in stone and a bearing which matches his rank. He is tall and broad and a finely built knight. 

“It is an honour,” Marcia says most boldly. 

“You may rise,” he allows in a breezy timbre. “I did hear my wife would receive new ladies. Young ladies.” 

“Your majesty,” the murmur rolls across each lip. 

“It is much needed. We have so many established ladies at court and yet we need to think of the future. Of the next generation,” he declares as he emphasizes his words with his large hand. You watch his garnet ring to keep from so brazenly looking him in the face. 

“Certainly, your majesty,” Marcia and Marigold chime in unision. 

“And don’t worry for there are many young lords as well,” the king laughs galely at the quip which makes the ladies, yourself included, blush. “Ah, then, Woodsdam I believe we were speaking of...” 

You blink and glance at the other ladies. They are cowed, unsure if they were overheard in their derision. You hope as much as they that they were not. It is rather unflattering. 

“My father, Lord Eldon,” you explain, “your majesty.” 

“You? You are the young lady of Woodsdam I heard so much of.” 

“You did? Er, your majesty,” you curtsey apologetically; unnecessarily. 

“Certainly, I did. Your father was a great assistance in me holding counsel with the lower lords. He is very patient. “When not about his duty, he spoke of you oft. Though what matters are more important than family?” 

“Yes, your majesty,” you can’t help a smile, “my father is a very kind man.” 

“Kind and courageous. I’m certain you’ve inherited as much,” the king praises, “and these other ladies. The twins who belong to Mawsley, the Countess of Clovers daughter, and the three earls daughters from the White Plains.” 

The ladies each bow their heads as he proclaims them by their forebearers’ titles. You watch from aside, feeling even more out-of-place. The king recites them all proudly as he extends a finger for each. 

“Allow me myself to extend a welcome to Astra. When you are sorted, my wife shall receive you all and have you acquainted with the grounds. I hope you enjoy them, we’ve had the gardeners at work day and night,” he pronounces, “for now, I must be off, for a king has many obligations and not so much time.” 

He bows and turns on his heel, marching off with his shoulder straight and head high. He walks as a soldier does, not some lord. You’ve seen the difference before, more recently in the aftermath of battle. A soldier is more akin to a farmer, much as your father, whereas a Lord tends to keep his steps tight. 

“Wow, oh my,” Dorida fans herself, “he is rather handsome.” 

“Oh yes,” Marcia and Marigold say, the latter forging ahead, “we met him at our father’s castle. He is ever so charming.” 

“Hm, and the queen would love to hear it, I’m certain,” Calliope intones brusquely. 

“The queen is not here,” Ameri sneers, “so what does it matter? Besides, is it so wrong to state a truth?” 

“He is very elegant,” Selene agrees. 

“Much too kind, as well,” Marigold snips, “Woodsdam? He speaks as if it more than some paltry farmhouse.” 

“You’d never even heard of it,” Calliope remarks. 

“And how had you, hm? You seem the bookish type. Perhaps you should leave the maps to the men. What good will a river or road do for a widow’s welp?” 

“Needn’t be cruel,” Calliope rebuffs. 

“Pity if this is the lot they send,” Marcia shakes her head as the sisters share another cryptic look. 

You keep to yourself. That is all you can do. It is better to watch and learn than to leap and land wherever you might. Your mother always said so and she was your best teacher. 

“Right, there must be some maid who might show us to our rooms,” Marigold stands on her toes and waves at each passing servant. “I tire of the sunlight and boorish company.” 

👑

You have two trunks awaiting you in your chambers. Not as the other ladies who had at least a dozen each. Less humble than your lunger are the rooms themselves.

There is an antechamber hung with tapestries showing wildlife and flora, a table set for two and cushioned bench by the window. The bedroom is draped in similar hangings with a four-post bed and a grand hearth. A desk, another bench, a woven carpet, and fine accouterments on square tables. And a closet for the commode as well and a pot in the far corner of the bedchamber. 

If only your mother and father could see this. They would be just as amazed. You can’t help but admire all of it. To touch the curtains as you approach the window and stare off at the afternoon sky. The gardens are a medley of hues; petals and thorns; leaves and dirt. It’s all so wonderful, you can still hardly believe it. 

Seems those other ladies can’t either. You can’t help but think of their words anon. They said so outrightly what you doubted inwardly. You don’t belong here. It must be so clear to them. 

You lean on the ledge and peer down into the garden pathways. It is almost a labyrinth with how intricately they’ve laid out the hedges. You lower yourself down to your elbows and cross your arms as you sigh. 

Your eyes are drawn from the swaying roses to the dark speck that appears below. You squint at first. From the second floor, it is harder to discern. It is the glimmer of gold in his hair and the defined gait that gives away the king. For an instant, you believe you might be dreaming. 

He walks along one path and to the next. There is another with him. A man with darker hair and a stauncher figure. They speak and stop just as they enter a circled walkway centered by a large vase of flowers. The other man talks, though you can hear neither, and the king rubs his chin. 

You should turn away. They might think you an eavesdropper. Oh, too late! You don’t dare move as the king tilts his head. You wouldn’t want to pique his attention. You cannot tell if he has spotted you. Not until he raises a hand and waves. The other man stops and looks to follow the gesture. 

You stand up straight but before you can flee in horror, you recall yourself. It is improper to turn your back to the king. You lift your hand and return the wave. He dips his head and turns to clap his companion’s shoulder, pointing him onward. 

Oh, you hope he is not unhappy. If you pray, perhaps he will not have recognised you. You needn’t an enemy of the king as well. 

[treeba-rk]

a small collection of shit the tumblr treebark community has tagged about cc!renchanting. Everyone feel free to contribute, many of these are pretty recent (from the infinite pining era), not from old posts!

#omg just call him hes not your ex   #i think about this so much. bro really was just like man that guy was weird. i think i’m in lo— #also this was very heterosexual of martyn. #relationship goals (they are not dating) #I hate them so much I fucking hate them #MARTYN WHEN I CATCH YOU MARTYN #can martyn like get a job #is this real?? #never a boring day following martyn on Tumblr #once again im reblogging the gayest ass mcyt fanart from none other than martyn in the little wood #martyn this is a really gay post to reblog /silly #its the single pathetic bisexual dogboy swag # everyone say thank youse to false #theyre having gay sex in that box. ok! #this is why joel betrayed dogwarts right at the start #fellas is it gay to do Whatever this is #treebark in the eyes of those around them is apparently horrifying #the server has chemicals in the water that turns the fucking ccs gay for Ren diggity Dog #Jesus christ #martyn intheliitlewood what are you doing in my falafal #I almost went full crazy insane treebark fangirl in the tags until I saw martyn inthelittlewood official reblogged it #SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA ENTER YOUR SLUT ERA AND THAT IS FINE TOO #fuckin slay martyn go kiss men Now we just pray he doesn't find the smut artists and find out people assume he's a bottom #he broke into our house and won’t leave :( turns out he’s the one who built the house? i think that’s why we let him stay #‘classic treebark bait’ MY ASS #martyn that shit is straight out of a fanfic #i think martyn can lurk in treebark tag if he wants #martyn once again outing himself as a renboy #shoutout to cherri for the renchanting propaganda god bless #WTF REN YOU CANT DO THIS TO US #they make me homophobic #mans woke up in a cold sweat checked his tumblr askbox wrote That and then fucked off for the rest of the day like nothing happened #the m in martyn stands for manic pixie dream girl #people be normal in the tags challenge: failed #why is martyn writing fanfiction and putting it on my dash at 3 am? #Top 10 Signs You Should Dm Him:#Number 1: you're writing fanfiction in tumblr ask box answers

this is an incredible collection and i am flabbergasted by how you keep track of this. treebarkblr is hilarious

<3 <3 <3

[rbbrbikerthorp]

Graduating Law Student Transformed Into A Skinboi

It’s the culmination of several months hard work; yet I can chalk up another successful transformation. 

As you look at him now, you don’t need me to tell you there’s no way back to the life he once imagined. I have taken away everything he used to be and I have remade him into what will be more appropriate life for him to lead. 

You can see the total adulation, respect and appreciation for what I have turned him into. He knows he’s a skinhead now, no questions, no dissent, no complaints, no regrets - just a proud skinhead.

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

Let me tell you just a little about who I am. I’m a gay skinhead in my late forties, living in a nondescript English town in the Midlands. I’ve been one since my early teens. As a young teen in the Eighties I’d hang out with skins in their late teens/early twenties who used to incentivise me to encourage my classmates to become new members of ‘their skinhead gang’. With any money they’d get from work, whether that was stacking shelves, apprenticeships, or learning a trade, they’d buy stuff like ciggies, lager and cider, on occasions, even tickets to the footy and offer these things around as ‘rewards’ to new lads.

And it worked. Word got around that you could do cool things when you became ‘one of us’. We looked out for one another, and if any of the members got into ‘trouble’ we’d be right there with them. There were what could be described of as ‘terms and conditions’ for members to comply with: DMs (black or oxblood) had to be worn in and out of school, 10 hole, preferably and with coloured laces. Outside it was boots plus black or red Harrington (Crombies were also allowed) over a Fred Perry top along with tight, shortened jeans and heads shaved as short as they could get away with. ‘Start ‘em young and keep them for life’ was our mantra.

Enough of the past, so back to the present.

I had been planning my next project. I had three potential ‘candidates’ to choose from; two would be left to carry on blissfully unaware how close they came to being transformed. One ‘fortunate’ lad would be taken by me and given a completely new life.

Some weeks ago I was in a coffee shop when one of potential lads I’d been tracking entered looking rather flustered. It was a perfect opportunity to take a good look at him. “Around twenty, height five ten, maybe five eleven, footballer’s build, dressed in a sharp looking suit - must care about his appearance - hmmm that bodes well for his future life”. The great thing about making coffees to order is that I was able to more fully assess this candidate - and I liked what I had seen. Eventually he got what he came for - four coffees in one of those egg box-like cardboard trays - and left. I decided this lad would probably be my preferred choice.

To confirm this I followed him discreetly all the way to the five floor building, which happened to be the offices of a law firm. He was way too young looking to be a qualified lawyer, so I concluded he was possibly still in law school, combining his studies with some ‘on-the-job’ work. If I step in, I could save him from a life of tediousness: of clock watching, pen pushing, keyboard strokes and general stress. I’d give him a simpler life as a skinhead. He would be waving goodbye to the potential of a five bedroom house, Mercedes and Rolex, but he’d have a proper job. He’d have proper mates and would live a modest life. A skinhead life. Yes, I decided there and then - this lad was the one.

For the next few weeks I tracked all his moves. Where he went, who (if anyone) he met with, what modes of transport he used and most importantly the hours he put in studying and working.

Two days a week he was not in law school. On those days he would leave his digs around 7:40am, walk to the end of the road and wait for the number 17 bus, which would turn up about ten to eight. Traffic depending, the journey to the main bus station took 25 minutes. He would walk from there to the office, some days stopping at McDonalds to get breakfast, sometimes not. Regardless, he would always get to the office for 8:30.

The end of the day was different and seemed less structured. The lad must have been focussed on his future career because I would see an exodus from the building around 5:30pm, but he was never part of that ‘first wave’ in fact he never emerged before 6 and sometimes it was almost 7 before he’d walk out of the main entrance. When he did leave, like most of his generation, he’s be focussed on his phone, distracted from what was going on around him. At that time of the evening the area was pretty much deserted. As this lad was going to be my next project I needed to see what he did after work. So, like a shadow I followed his movements at night.

I discovered that he didn’t have that many friends. A couple of random nights he’d go to the Pure Gym which was just on the edge of the town centre. sometimes he’d be accompanied but mostly he went there on his own. At the weekend he didn’t seem to do much. Occasionally I’d note him board the bus into town, returning several hours later with one or two shopping bags from places like JD Sports, Hollister or Flannels. I didn’t see him go into a pub or bar, nor did I see him smoke but that would all change when I’d finished with his transformation.

I had all the knowledge about his movements but the next question on my mind was how to capture the lad and how to get him back here without causing too much commotion. I started mulling things over, a thought jumped into my head. My mate Mal has a 1997 Ford Transit van that he says I can use whenever I need to. Perhaps I could use the van as a distraction. I finished putting my plan together and decided on next Tuesday (one of the days he always attended the office) would be the day when the lad would become my boi.

I’d need to get him a few bits to wear. From previous projects I had become pretty good a sizing a lad. I wouldn’t know his shoe size but I’d take a guess. Back home I fired up my laptop to see how quickly I could get stuff. I logged into eBay first and found most of what I needed. I selected the ‘buy now’ option to make sure it could be delivered in time for my new guest to ‘arrive’.

So I had his clobber on order - Tuesday couldn’t come around soon enough.

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

Tuesday night came along and I’d parked Mal’s van on the same street as the law firm about twenty or thirty yards along from the entrance so any security cameras or nosy security guards couldn’t see what was going to conspire.

I checked the time, 5:15pm. Good I was pretty confident I’d be ready for when he emerged from the building after all his colleagues had left.

It got to 5:30 - suddenly there was an exodus of dozens and dozens people. I watched out for him looking in my wing mirrors. Good, as predicted the lad wasn’t one of them. When the rush had died down I needed to time my next move carefully. It was 6:15 and no one had emerged from the building for over a quarter of an hour. I made my move. I pulled the lever, which opened the bonnet on Mal’s van. My pretext for getting into conversation with the lad would be that I was having trouble with the engine and I needed to stand in front of the van whilst someone turned the key. That was something anyone could do.

Sure enough just before half past, the lad emerged with a ruck sack on his back. I’d been standing by the wall looking like I was waiting for a breakdown service to attend to me, but I wasn’t.

I called out to the lad, who as I had seen countless times was looking down at his phone, "Oi mate - I’m 'avin a bit of trouble, can you help?”

The lad looked up, “Erm me, you need a hand?"” he queried

“I’d appreciate it, my van’s playing up and I can’t get hold of the breakdown service. If you could spare me two minutes, I might be able to get it going.”

He looked around and then said “Sure, but I’m not sure I can do any good. I don’t know anything about van mechanics.”

He must have been surprised to see the way I was dressed - DM's. bleached jeans, olive green bomber jacket and beanie hat covering my shaved head.

He cautiously walked towards me, everything was going to plan.

“Don’t worry lad, I’ll take care of the engine. All I need you to do is jump behind the wheel and turn the key but not before I tell you to, okay?”

The lad simply nodded and climbed into the van.

I spent a few moments checking the engine, an engine that in truth was working perfectly. I had pulled the distributor wire, so I knew nothing would happen when the key was turned. Timing was of the essence, because you really can drain the battery if you continuously try to start a van disabled in this fashion.

I spoke to the lad, “nothing appears out of place - go on and turn the key. The engine kind of turned over, but stalled and died. “Shit”.

I kept the charade going for several minutes. Spending a minute or two between each key-turn pretending to fiddle with the engine and then telling the lad to turn the key, knowing it wouldn’t start.

With a frustrated look on my face I came round to the driver’s door and said, “I think I’m going try call the breakdown service again and hope they can get to me tonight” He just kind of nodded at me as I rubbed my hands briskly. “Before I do there’s one more thing I’m going to try that I need your help with,” and before he could reply I continued to speak, “It’s a bit parky this evening. D'you fancy a drink? I got a flask of coffee in the back.”

There was a risk that he would decline the offer, but I’d got him invested in my problem so he simply nodded.

“C'mon then"

The lad jumped out of the drivers seat and followed me round to the back of the van. I got the flask out and poured me some coffee onto two plastic cups. I lifted the cup to my mouth and held it there as I watched the naive lad take a sip  "That's it mate - drink it all down"

“It’s really nice,” he told me, so I poured some out another cup. He took a few gulps more, then the cup fell out of his hand.

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

The lad knew nothing more until he came around later tied to a chair. At first he didn’t know what had happened only that he had a blinding headache. As he became more conscious he could see there was someone sitting across the room from him. He became lucid enough to realise it was me, the same skinhead with the broken down van that asked him for help. The same skinhead with a lit cigarette in my mouth. The lad then realised all his clothes with the exception of his underwear had been removed. He was also fully aware of the ropes that were restraining him. He started to struggle and started to hurl verbal abuse at me. I was mildly surprised; I thought a trainee lawyer might have had a better grasp of English.

I said nothing, I stood up walked over to the lad and stuffed a dirty football sock in his mouth. “That’ll stop you making too much noise. It’s late, I’m going to bed. You’re my ‘guest’ for as long as I want to keep you, g'night”

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

The next morning, the lad was woken by cold water being thrown in has face.

I left the room and came back with a pair of clippers. The lad’s eyes widened, I could see him begin to panic. A muffled "no" came from his sock-filled mouth. The cold teeth of the clippers slid across the middle of his head from forehead to crown, the first clump of hair slipped onto the floor. The lad started to struggle so I said “if you struggle you will get cut now that’s fine with me but you might not like it”. My grip changing aggressively as I worked around his head moving front to back, and all around the sides. I rubbed all over his head, happy with my work I turned the clippers off. The lad now had a zero crop. I walked into the bathroom and returned with a bowl and shaving kit.

I put down a bowl of warm water, can of shaving foam and an old fashioned razor. Again, he started to struggle against his bonds. He was saying something but I just ignored and started wetting his stubble, after-which I worked the shaving foam into his stubbly scalp. Then, more for effect than anything else, I picked up a cut-throat razor. Once again I explained that if the lad didn’t keep still he might lose a lot of blood before he was finished. This time the lad was motionless. I have to say for the duration of his head shave, he really didn’t move a muscle.

The last stroke of the razor was the longest and the best. I wrapped his head in a towel to remove the last bit of foam. Then drizzled some balm and messaged it into my freshly shaved scalp. I took the bowl and stuff back into the bathroom. Happy with my work I sat down on a chair across the room from him. “Now, let explain what is happening to you.  First, I’m only going to release you if you accept these rules. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not move unless I tell you to. You will do what I say without question. From now on until I tell you otherwise you call me Boss. Do you accept these rules boi?” He just nodded - I’m pretty sure he’d agree to anything just to get the stale sock out of his mouth. I carried on setting out the rules, “I’m warning you now, disobey me and you will again be restrained on that chair and you will also get a severe punishment is that clear?”

Forlorn looking he nodded again.

“Now listen to me. Your old life is over. You have been chosen by me to become a skinhead. I will turn you into a proud skinhead, eventually you will be inked and then pierced to my specification but in the meantime you are going wear skin gear.” Today you begin a new life with me. Now, the first thing I need is your signature on a few pieces of paper…you know just to make everything legal”. I handed the lad a pen but he didn’t take it straight away, “now I’ve told you there is an easy way with you accepting the new life I’m offering you or we can do it the hard way. It doesn’t bother me - now sign the documents or you’re going to take one hell of a beating.” Reluctantly the lad took the pen I was holding and signed his name on the papers and handed them back to me. [The signed papers would give notice on his rented flat, would inform his lecturers that he was quitting law school and he was resigning from his placement at the law firm].

I wheeled a mirror into the room so he could see his denuded head. “You look like a man now and I bet you feel better don’t you?” Not knowing what else to do, he simply nodded back. I reinforced my previous statement of intent, “so you’re my new project boi and when the time comes to leave me you will leave as a skinhead. A booted, inked and pierced skinhead, living by the skin code.” I finished my monologue and left the room to go make myself a drink and so that he could mull over what I’d just told him.

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

I came back into the room about half an hour later. “It’s time to begin boi.” Pointing over at five pairs of black boots with different coloured laces I told him the first lesson will be how to look after your boots.

In my hand I had some black polish, what he realised was the work shirt he’d been wearing and a shoe brush. I dropped them by his feet and said “ok boi get over here and start shining the boots”. Understanding the previous warning I’d given him, there was no way out of this. He stood up from the chair walked over to where the boots were lined up. He timidly asked me “which ones Boss?” I was pleased he called me Boss without any prompting, ”all of them,” I responded. “Start with the ones in the middle, the ones with the white laces boi.”

He picked up the boots I’d instructed him. He opened the tin and dipped the rag into the black polish. He spent the next few hours shining all five pairs of boots. Every time he looked up to say he was finished, i would shake my head and give him a slap.

Now I know a thing about retraining lads, especially lads from good homes who tend to have a natural obedience because of their upbringing. I carefully balance the use of ‘fear of pain’ and ‘reward’. So long as the boi lives in fear of me and the pain I could inflict upon him, I can focus him on being rewarded for complying with my orders.

I looked at him, totally focussed on the boots. I thought about what might have been for the boi if I hadn’t decided to take him under my wing, I’m pretty sure that in his head he had his life mapped out ahead of him - someday becoming a partner in a law firm earning three-maybe four hundred thousand a year, marrying and having two or three kids. I step in and disrupt that to give him a new purpose, a more worthwhile purpose and a the opportunity to work in a proper job. Perhaps as a labourer, a refuse collector, joiner’s apprentice - who knows? What I do know is that he never, ever thought of being a skinhead; but soon he won’t be able to imagine life as anything else.

In all it took four hours of polishing the five pairs of boots before I said, “that’s enough for a first effort. You have one more pair to do later, they’re the ones you’ll be wearing!” I could see him shudder. “Now let’s get you dressed proper.”

I handed him a black Fred Perry shirt with yellow trim. “Put it on boi.”

He took it without questioning me, “yes, Boss.” He slipped the black polo over his body, I’d guessed the right size because it fitted perfectly. Next I told him that skinheads didn’t wear ‘poncy’ underwear, they go commando or wear a jock. “You are going to wear a jock and in time you’ll find out why.” I grinned, he had no idea about that devious part of my plan. I passed it to him and he looked at it - clearly he’d never worn one to play sport. “Take yer pants off, throw ‘em over there and put that on.” I remember he turned a shade of crimson. “Look boi, you ain’t got anything different to me, just get to it.” He saw me ball my fist, so he dithered no more and put the jock on.

You’ll wear that day after day untilI tell you to take it off. Next I told him to get the white football socks and put them on. Now for your bleachers. They’re gonna feel tight but that’s the way they are meant to be. This was the part I was looking forward - seeing the boi in tight bleachers, which I’d had cut so they barely went over the knee. And him seeing himself shaved and wearing skin gear for the first time.

I watch him stand up to pull them on. They were very tight and left nothing to the imagination. He told he felt they were too tight and felt weirdly short. I told him it’s how they are supposed to be. He was about to sit down when I told him to stay standing. I walked over to him and attached a pair of yellow braces to the waist of his bleachers at the back, over his shoulders and clipped them to the front.

“Nice - you’re looking the part boi,. but there’s something missing...”

“Are you going to make me wear a pair of those boots?”

“Haven’t you forgotten a word boi?” I clenched my fist again.

“Sorry....I mean BoSS, are you going to make me wear boots BoSS?”

“No, you have to earn  the right to wear your boots, boi”

Pointing over to the wall, I instructed him to look at himself in the mirror. I told him he was well into his journey to becoming a skinhead.

I was surprised to see a bulge growing in his bleachers. “Interesting”, I thought. I felt that things were progressing at the right pace. I turned and left the room, leaving the lad to his thoughts.

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

Breaking down a lad and rebuilding him as a boi in the desired image isn’t easy. If he was going to be a skinhead, he would have to behave like a skinhead and to believe there was no other way. To do this I ordered him to shave his head with foam and a razor every single morning. He would have to wait for me to inspect his work, only when I was satisfied would I allow him to get dressed. He would spend his day looking like a skin: wearing bleachers, Fred Perry, braces and football socks.

He still wasn’t allowed to wear boots. My goal was for him to learn the importance of boots to a skinhead: a highly visible sign that the wearer doesn’t give a shit about what anyone else thinks of them, they look menacing, and says ‘don’t mess with me’ because if you do, you’ll be the loser. I wanted him to beg me to wear the boots I’d got him, and I knew it would only be a matter of time until he was begging for permission to be booted. Until then on the occasions when we needed to go out, I made him out on some old workie overalls and on his feet he’d wear a pair of cheap and nasty black canvas plimsoles (remember the ones you might have worn in school?). 

I didn’t know what his orientation was. In doing my research I’d not seen any evidence of girlfriend, or a boyfriend for that matter. I guessed that he might be so focussed on career, that he had suppressed any sexual urges or thought he’d wait ‘till the right person came along; then marry and have kids. Well, I had other plans. I wanted a boi to have ‘fun’ with and when I decided the time would come to let him leave he’d have absolutely no interest in women and he’d be looking for a skinhead partner or follow in my footsteps, finding ‘a lost sheep’ to convert into a proud gay skinhead, swelling the skinhead ranks.

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

I returned to the room, “ok boi get over here.” He walked over towards me. “It’s time for you next lesson boi, you’re going to learn the art of bootlicking; you’re going to worship my boots. Boots are going to be the focus of your world and you don’t stop till I say. Get to it and I want to feel your tongue pressing hard.” Every so often I’d say “stop” and the boi would think he had done, but it was just to allow me to get a drink or go to the loo. I’d return and tell the lad to continue. I wanted him to get used to the position, being subservient (for the time being) and fully compliant with my instructions. Growing to love the taste of the leather, eventually becoming addicted to it. “Good boi”, I’d say every so often.

After a couple of hours of kneeling at my boots I told him, “that’s enough for a first effort now start on the other one”. The boi’s shoulders dropped but he did not say a word just started on the my other boot. After two more hours of bootlicking I allowed the lad to take a break. I got him some food but I made him eat it sitting on the floor by my boots.

The routine created for my new skinboi was expedited day after day. I would wake him at 6am in order for him to shave his head. I’d check the shave was to my satisfaction. Then he’d dress: black Fred Perry shirt, white football socks, bleachers, white braces. Then it would be down to work polishing all the boots in the morning, worshiping my boots in the afternoon and sometimes going outside with me dressed in full skin-gear and him in workie overalls and plimsoles. The monotony and repetition was wiping away his old life, soon all he would know is being a skinhead.

I also introduced him to the ‘joys’ that only a man can give another man. "Boi, Get over here, and get down on your knees." I watched my boi nervously get down on his knees. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward so his face was in my crotch. I held him there so he can revel in the joys of his Boss’ scent. After a few minutes I told him to unbutton my bleachers. He was reluctant at first, but I was insistent. He knew I could meter a severe punishment, so using his fingers in he starts undoing the buttons, one by one. He looked up into his eyes knowing what was about to ensue. He opened his mouth to speak, but I said, "Ssh.. boi.. this is a necessary part of your training." He takes hold of my waistline and pulls down my bleachers, forcing my jock down too. He doesn’t break eye contact with me as my tumescent manhood strikes him on the chin. My balls are big and hang low. All he can do is stare. I’m pretty lucky, at least 8 inches long, and thick enough that his hand will be able to wrap around it, but only just.

With my hand still on the back of my head, I say to him “open up boi.” He hesitates, but seeing the expression on my face, he complies. I know he’s scared about what is going to happen. He was probably thinking about that ‘normal’ life of wife, kids and career. But looking at him, I can see there is some level of arousal. I now enter his now willing mouth. The underside of my manhood rubs against the top of his tongue as he lets it rest in his mouth for a few seconds. I pull his head forward so I can force myself deeper into his throat. It's half way in before he gags on its length. Laughing, I pull out, "Pretty big eh? Don't worry. We'll work on that.” I put it back in his mouth and he begins sucking again. It isn't long before I notice how turned on he is by all of this. Something must have clicked in his mind. Perhaps he wasn’t sure of his sexuality. Perhaps he was naturally submissive and was finally responding to the changes I was making to him. I’ll never really know. He is now sucking with vigour; even trying his hardest to take me in his throat and make his Boss happy.

"What a good boi. You like sucking your Boss’ dick don't you?"

He nodded. I could tell from looking into his eyes he was happy he was making his Boss happy. I smiled, “you’re going to be getting as lot of practice from now on boi. In fact when you finally leave, you’ll have no interest in women anymore - that’s if you had any in the first place. A skinhead like you is going to be into real blokes, who love aggro, sp[it, piss and hard sex. Now get up.”

I stand him up, turn him around, and walk him over to the sofa. “Strip,” I order. He hesitates for a moment, but seeing the expression on my face, he obediently takes off his Fred Perry, drops his bleachers, and pulls down his jock. What i assume to be his untouched hole is fully now exposed to me. I lean him into the sofa, putting his knees up on the cushions and face into the backrest. As I stand behind him I’m pretty sure he can feel something rubbing on his bum cheeks. I’m pretty sure he knows what it is. My hands are exploring his arse, rubbing and massaging all over. 

Then I do something he wouldn’t be expecting. I lean forward and bury my face in his arse. I’m ravishing his hole with my tongue, and I know he will have never had a feeling like this before. He’s now moaning into the cushions as my tongue explores my hole. Satisfied with my work I pull back. I hear a squeak of disappointment, but it doesn't last long. The next noise that emanates from the lad is a ‘yelp’ in response to me sliding a finger into his wet boi hole. His bum clenches as I slide my finger in and out.

“How does that feel boi?”

Breathlessly he responds, “it feels amazing. Don’t stop. Please.”

I reach around him and start jerking him off my, using the precum leaking out of the head I keep a steady pace in order to distract him from what I’m about to do. I insert another finger into his hole, then a third. I know he could have never dreamed about the pleasure he’s experiencing at this point. I kept this up for ten, twenty, maybe thirty minutes - I can’t remember. When I gauged that he was almost at the point of no return I asked him a question. 

"Are you ready for me to finally mark you as mine, boi? 

At this point I knew he didn’t want this ‘world of pleasure’ I was giving him to end, so he vigorously nodded .

“Do you want to screw your tight little virgin boi hole? Speak."

"Please. Yes. I need your cock. Please take my boi hole," he whimpers.

I rub the head of my cock against his hole. His hands reach behind him and with both hands he pulls his cheeks apart giving me full access. Slowly, I push forwards applying pressure on his hole. Then, the pop. I’m in.

He yelps, “ow, ow, it hurts, no! He tries to rise up. But then I place a hand on his back, forcing him down.

"Shh.. boi..give it time, The pain will go - you'll learn to love it"

I keep the head of my hard pole in his hole for a few seconds without moving it to get him accustomed to it. Very slowly I start to move back and forth. I’m very steadily stretching his hole more and more. But then I notice a change in the noises he’s making.

I spoke up, “see boi, that initial pain begins to get replaced. Replaced by this, full feeling and eventually that makes way for an unbelievable pleasure. A pleasure only a man can give you.” I rock back and forth, putting more of my cock into his tight arse, When I pull back he’s started to push back; he’s moaning each time more is pushed inside him, until finally I feel my sack up against his arse.

"You like that boi? All of your Boss is in your arse. And my what a tight one you have boi."

"Ohh.... It's so good," in his state of ecstasy is all he can summon up.

I begin pumping back and forth, pulling out to the point to where the tip of the head is all that is left in his arse and then pressing all the way back in. 

"Tell me you like it boi. Tell your skinhead Boss what you want me to do. Tell me now boi!"

"Boss yes!.. You feel so good inside me. Please don't stop. Please. Please fill me with your pure skinhead seed"

I pick up the pace to the point where I’m pounding his arse. I continue to penetrate him over and over again. I’m hoping to reach that special place every male has. I tell him to turn around because I want him to be looking at me when I deposit my seed. I start again, pumping in and out, over and over. His eyes roll back into his head as I go all the way down. I can tell he’s experiencing a new feeling. Soon he’ll be at the point of no return. The point where man sex is all he desires.

"You feel that boi? I’m massaging your prostate"

"Oh my god Boss. That feels so good. Please don't stop."

I’m thrusting into his arse, back and forth, slowly at first then picking up the pace. He grabs his cock and starts jerking it. 

"Yes!” he says, “please keep going. don’t stop!"

I keep pumping away, when I hear him say, “I’m going to cum.” I pull his hands away. “You have to ask permission to cum boi.” I say sternly.

“Please may I cum, please Boss?” he begs.

“I’ll let you cum when you tell me what you are boi.”

“What, what do you mean?” he queries.

“Tell me what you are boi, tell me you’re a skinhead! Tell me you’re going to live your life as a proud, gay skinhead. You’ll spread the word and convert others to the skinhead life.”

“Yes, I will,” he responds, eagerly.

“Not good enough boi, tell me what I have turned you into, now!”

Breathing heavily as I continue to plough in and out of his arse he responds, “oh, okay. I’m a skinhead, a gay skinhead. I proud, gay skinhead. I’ve been shown how to live as a skinhead, how to dress in skin gear, how to polish and lace my boots correctly. How to shave my head. How to live my life... from... now on as a skinhead.”

“Yes boi, you are a skinhead. For now you’re my skin boi. There are some final changes I have to make to ensure there’s no return to your old life. Now cum for me.” 

Streams of cum land on his chest. I feel his are clinches around my cock as I keeps pumping away, reaching the point of no return. Marking him, filling him with my essence. I look deeply into his eyes and can see complete bliss.

I slow down, then pull out. Our lips meet and lock together. 

To reinforce his new gay skinhead life, we repeat these sessions, day after day. Me on top and him on the bottom. Because I want him to convert others to the skinhead life, I need to allow him to top. So in some sessions we switch and he gets to experience what it’s like to penetrate another man. We always shag in skinhead gear and our sessions get more exciting as he gives himself to this new life I’ve created for him.

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

A couple of weeks later, I woke up to find my boi had got out of my bed early and was already in the bathroom. I opened the door to find him shaving his head. I smiled at him and he smiled back: success!

I waited for him to come downstairs wondering how he would be dressed. Sure enough he walked into the room, with the exception of a pair of boots he was dressed in his skinhead gear.

I looked up, “hello boi, what are you?” was all I asked him.

“I am a skinhead Boss, living by the skinhead code” he replied

“Good boi.”

Quickly, I made a call to a friend to book a four-hour appointment.

I came back into the room, "boi, get the black boots with the white laces, and put them on. Lace them as I’ve shown you. 

“Yes Boss”, he replied excitedly.

We’re going into town to make some final changes to the way you look. We are going to make sure everyone knows what you are. Tell me again, what are you boi?”

As he laced his boots he repeated his mantra. “I’m a skinhead, BoSS.”

“Yes boi, and after today there is going to be no way back. Now, get a move on and finish lacing those boots because we have an appointment booked.

I watch closely as he ladder laces his new black boots. I’m admiring the skin boi I’ve created. In the next hour he will begin the final part of his transformation. He will stay with me for some time so that I can fully reinforce his skinhead training. When I decide he’s the finished article, I will  tell him to go find himself a partner, perhaps a normal lad he can transform into his own skinboi perhaps someone who is already leading a skinhead life. 

As I look at my skinboi standing in the doorway, I start thinking about what my next project will be...

[dailyadventureprompts]

what do you think of a campaign in the style of games like Left 4 Dead and Vermintide(fighting through hordes of enemies while completing a series of objectives)?

DM Tip: Against the Horde

Friend, let me tell you the tale of the time I was playing in a game where the DM decided it would be a great idea for us to fight 200 zombies. This wasn't because we were the appropriate level, that many zombies amounted to a challenging encounter for a party twice our strength, 200 just felt like a nice round number that would appropriately communicate the idea of a horde.

That fight (and the five hours it took) was one of the most valuable lessons in dungeonmastering I ever received, because it showed me nearly every problem that emerges from d&d's combat system when you put it under stress.

To set up the stakes, it saddens me to say that there were none: the zombies emerged in a village we had never heard of and would never go to again for no reason what so ever. This was in no way part of or relevant to any plots, before or after. It was purely an excuse for the dm to have us fight 200 zombies and that fight had no bearing on anything. We didn't even get XP for it.

Now let me share what I've learned:

Like all of its other systems, D&D combat is not fundamentally fun or meaningful, it becomes fun and meaningful when the combat is used to tell stories the party already has stakes in. Sure, it's enjoyable to throw some dice around and roll big numbers but if you're going to do that without a story attached you might as well be playing a boardgame with more refined mechanics like Heroquest or Gloomhaven

The base combat system of d&d is fundamentally clumsy, which makes sense given that it's a bastardization of wargame rules from before they invented fun. "roll to hit vs ac, roll damage vs hp" might've been snappy back when creatures and characters tracked hp and damage in 1s and 2s, but as the numbers bloated combat slowed to a crawl. Not only does a player now need to wait 10-40 minutes between their chances to do anything, that chance can be entirely wasted by a bad to-hit or damage roll, especially when you don’t have an ability to buff your damage.   Because d&d operates on the concept of attrition and we were forced to fight so many zombies, our entire party was down to making basic attacks after the first few rounds. Our turns became almost meaningless by the end: whether or not we hit, it generally took 2-4 swings to down a single zombie, and then another shambling corpse would take its place. This is to say nothing of the damage they were doing on us, or the healers desperately trying to keep everyone up when it became inevitable that they’d be downed again before their turn came around.

People who complain about players steamrolling encounters or that modern classes feel like “superheroes” have failed to recognize that cool and borderline overpowered abilities are what save the game from being a slog. Combat lasts about three rounds because that’s about how long it takes for the players to burn through their reserves of cool shit and start having to throw rocks at their opponents. Fighting on an empty tank can be poignant once or twice a campaign, but if it happens every time you roll initiative people are going to start tuning out. This is why the professional games have big fights sparingly and generally reserve entire episodes for them.

It is likewise the DM’s job to set up cool and borderline overpowered opportunities within the combat space to supplement the party’s own, just like it’s their job to come up with interesting challenges for the party to overcome. That’s just a standard of good combat design, and while smaller fights can be simpler, it should be equally mandatory for big fights to have just as much thought put into the party’s options as the enemy team’s composition.  

My most important lesson that campaign taught me is this: No d&d is better than bad d&d. I could have skipped that session and spent five hours doing anything else and i’d have been better off... I likewise could have skipped that campaign and have been spared the grand finale where the DM pulled that sort of shit again, running an “epic” multi-unit fantasy LOTR style battle where we got to watch as they spent 95% of the time smashing different armies together like single player warhammer.

I want to say sorry to the Asker for stumbling into one of my old war stories. Figured it’d be a good baseline to have while I circle back to the more specific advice: It’s fine to have a setting where enemies are everywhere, but prolonged combat vs overwhelming numbers of foes simply breaks the game. L4D and Vermintide are game systems that are mechanically built to feel good engaging with that many foes (and have the benefit of computer processing powers) where as D&D works best on small scale skirmishes.

Art

[mycrofts-umbrella]

Hiii! 28 fem here, I'm **not** replacing anyone, just looking for anyone who would be interested in more stories with me. I have more time to write so if you are 21+ please don't hesitate to send me a dm! Most random stuff but willing to do original characters as well! I love talking ooc, it helps keep me engaged and I love plotting and collaborating! Can do some days of rapid fire responses, other times it might take a few days. I know real life comes first and I will always be patient so no worries. Would love to hear from you!

Here are some of the fandoms with pairings/tropes I like:

**Spock/Kirk** - Wholesome sci-fi adventures, potential for shorter procedural missions, would ideally want to expand and write other members of the enterprise as needed (such as Bones, Sulu, Nyota, Chekov, Scotty, Nurse Chapel, etc.), would play/write either characters

**Charles/Erik** - Friends to Lovers to Enemies, would do either post xmen first class cherik or would do older versions of them, darker themes, I would prefer to write Erik in this because I don't think I can do the optimistic Charles justice, we need to plot further with this one cause I would be down for lots of ideas

**Deadpool/Spider-Man** - slooooooow burn to even get to friends then maybe 🌈, would mainly start as Deadpool and Spider-Man running into each other doing work/patrols in the city and mexican food, prefer to write as Deadpool but would be willing to write Peter

**Deadpool/Wolverine** - post movie, Logan has nightmares, differences in their timelines, Logan visits this universe's version of the X-Men. Would be open to writing either.

**Harry/Hermione** - my preference would be to start sometime during deathly hallows after Ron left and Harry and Hermione are still dealing with the Horcrux, and writing either is good with me

**Hannibal/Will** - MURDER HUSBANDS 4EVER, post fall, (or I also have very many ideas for this ship, oh man), I would loooove to play Will for once in my friggin life but I would also understand that your sweet soul could not handle Hannibal and I have experience writing hanni

**Lestat/Louis** - set season 2 finale, during the hurricane, sweet *sweet* depressing vampire cuddles while mourning our daughter crying blood, but I get that's a LOT to start so also start of s3 rockstat era, Louis doing Lestat's makeup, would write either, genuinely love these two, tho more experience writing Lestat

**Daniel/Armand** - devil's minion era, or post season 2 TV show devil's minion, Armand IS ALICE au(?), open to writing either (would also do a one shot for Daniel/Louis)

**Crowley/Aziraphale** - I prefer writing Crowley but that's cause I have a very specific view of him and his feelings for Aziraphale, however I do like writing Aziraphale too, post season 2, or lots of different ideas for this one too

**Joker/Akechi** - set p5r term 3, OR Akechi has a palace that they do after Sae’s palace and before Shido’s cause I think Akechi should get to do a patricide, or whenever joker sleeps and goes to the Velvet Room, Akechi is there or they know they are the two tricksters from the start and Joker starts in the metaverse with Akechi and Joker knows about Akechi’s murders but Akechi is his only family until he finally meets the phantom thieves and starts to pull away from Akechi and wants to turn him in

**Lucy/The Ghoul/Cooper Howard** - heterosexuals strike again, post season finale as they track down Kyle McLaughlin and figure out what is happening, would probably prefer to play The Ghoul but I would also like Lucy too so IDK not a hard preference actually

**Hughie/OC** - AU he leaves the boys and lives a normal life and is cherished for ONCE in his ridiculous existence, would be fine with either male or female OC just not starlight sorry Annie January you have a cool name but your powers kinda suck and ur personality is idk I just think him and Kimiko would have been cute 🥰

**Homelander/OC** - again I'm fine with male or female and would prefer to write the OC but am open to it. OC could be someone new joining The Seven or someone he somehow met during his childhood (maybe even Sage or Hughie)

**Tyrion Lannister/Daenerys Targaryen** - rewind a few seasons, take things slower then follow the journey to King's Landing and the Red Keep, maybe when they first met, would write either but have more experience as Daenerys. (Sidenote: I also ship Jorah/Dany and Tyrion/Varys so same thing)

**AU / Tropes** I like and would do with ANY of the ships and characters above or even OCs:

Soulmate AU

Hanahaki disease

Teammates/Roommates

Childhood best friends

Enemies-to-lovers

Coffeeshop (always - one exists in every fandom and ship)

Stockholm syndrome 🕊️

Powers OR (No Powers for fandoms that have supes, mutants, magic, etc. )

Amnesia where person A wakes up and doesn't remember person B but wrongly (rightly) assumes person B is their spouse/significant other or just memory loss of critical moments

If you're interested at all, my dms are open! Thank you! 🖤🫶🏼🩵

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Rachel Connolly:

Earlier this year, I had a bout of what my friends and I term “mental health”. I was always tired. I couldn’t concentrate. I felt burnt out by the volume of communication that social media facilitates. I am 31 and, like many people my age, I’m in multiple group chats on WhatsApp and often find myself added to new ones. I use Instagram to post work and selfies, and to chat with people via the DM function. I use X similarly. (I’m too old for TikTok.) I enjoy some of this. I like talking nonsense with my friends. But I’d started to question how deliberate much of it was. I’d find myself posting a picture of a book I was reading and think, why do I need an audience to read? I began to wonder if, in the cycle of curating, recording and publicising our lives on social media, the things we do that are not seen and affirmed by people online feel somehow less “real”. My work as a writer means I probably get more online communication than the average person. Last year I published my first novel, and I have since noticed the slightly strange way that novels are discussed online. I get tagged in Instagram posts saying that my book is about a messy girl, a sad girl, a distant girl or a cold girl. There is an algorithmic basis to this. The easiest way to attract attention on social media is to talk about a trend everyone else is talking about, or to slot whatever you’re talking about into one of these trends.

So everywhere you look it is Brat summers or trad wives, cottage-core or bloke-core, high-functioning anxiety, parentified children or whatever happens to be the latest term for pathologising your life experience. Everything is flattened, simplified. I worried that being immersed in it was making me think this way too. A friend recently got a “dumb” phone, a Nokia 3210, to use when she’s out of the house. She leaves her smartphone at home like a landline. It has made her happier, she says. I needed a break too, but I was drawn to the idea of spending some time cut off from all communication. A reset, of sorts. I found a weekend-long silent retreat, no phones allowed, and booked myself in. My craving for a break is not uncommon. Social media is such a constant background presence in our lives that it’s easy to forget how recent it is. Facebook, which feels impossibly passé, is only 20. Instagram is not yet 15. Researchers first used the term “digital detox”, to refer to a period of abstention from phones and laptops, in 2012, around the same time that social media was really taking off (chat rooms had been around since the turn of the 1990s without the concept surfacing).

Digital detoxes remained unusual for a time. In 2015, Essena O’Neill, an Australian influencer with 612,000 Instagram followers, made news around the world when she released a statement about quitting the platform. Today, similar moves by celebrities are so common they barely make headlines. Billie Eilish deleted all social media apps from her phone. Actress Tavi Gevinson wrote about using an assistant to manage her Instagram. It has been hard to keep track of the number of times Stephen Fry has quit and rejoined Twitter over the years. These dramatic exits can seem amusing, especially when they’re followed by sheepish returns, but mostly they underscore how addictive and overwhelming social media can be. My silent retreat took place in a large house in rural Devon. I arrived on Friday, one of a group of about 50. We were allowed to speak during registration and, because I had gone there determined not to use reductive labels, I could already sense myself reaching for them. A young man told me he had done several silent retreats before. Ah, I thought, so you’re the type of person who does these often. Then I caught myself. What type would that be?

During the first meditation session, our instructors explained that we would sit and try to embody, rather than think about, the question “What is this?” This distinction struck me as confusing to the point of meaninglessness. But they explained that one way of attempting “not to think” about the question was to resist the urge to answer it. They encouraged us to focus instead on how we felt, on the physical sensations in our bodies. If you have never tried this, I will say that it is extremely difficult. We sat cross-legged for 30 minutes. I stared at a wall. Then we walked in a circle for 10 minutes. Then we sat down again, and so on, for about two hours. Then it was bedtime. I enjoyed the communality of me and the other girls silently working through our evening routines together. I realised that I had never decided to bring my phone everywhere, like an appendage to my body

The next two days were structured around meditation and chores. At 6.30am we were woken by a bell. We did two hours of meditation, after which we had breakfast. Then a break, followed by another two hours of meditation and lunch. My chore was washing up after we ate. Then more meditation, dinner, another break, meditation, bed. If sitting in an uncomfortable position and staring at a wall while trying not to think sounds impossibly boring, I would say it is not so different from the way my days would unfold when I worked in offices, traipsing from my desk to the tea station and back. More earnestly, I would say I could not have imagined how much I would enjoy the retreat, or how much I’d get out of it. Over the weekend, one of the instructors spoke about trying to be more conscious of the labels we put on our experiences and interactions. It struck me that a similar fatigue with the overload of digital communication is probably what draws a lot of people to try a silent retreat. We were all the type of person who is fed up with “types of people”.

On my first morning after breakfast, I went outside. The countryside seemed fantastically vivid. The blackbirds looked as beautiful as anything I had seen before. I watched one, like a dash of ink, flickering against the mottled grey sky, then two sailing as a pair, in tune with each other. I watched a cloud of them, pulsing. It reminded me of a jellyfish. Back inside, from my seat in the meditation room, I could see a tree that the birds would visit. When I was frustrated with the way my thoughts rattled around my head, reviewing unsaid rebuttals to months-old arguments, I watched the birds and imagined the paths they were taking in the world. One of my issues with the task “embody but try not to think” is that the semantic distinction between thinking and feeling is hard to grasp. If you notice that you feel happy or sad, is that a thought? Or a feeling? I found animals a useful framework to try to understand the distinction, as they negotiate the world using senses. A bird might fly north because of an environmental cue, but it does not say to itself in words, “I want to fly north.” I came to understand the task not as emptying your head of thoughts, but rather resisting the tendency to narrate things to yourself in words. I noticed that this interior monologuing would lead me along familiar, superficial trains of thought, to recent memories associated with certain feelings, say, and soon enough back to mundane anxieties.

At night, I would sit outside and look at the stars. The clouds, invisible in the darkness, shifted to expose one patch of stars, then another, making it look like the sky itself was swelling and shrinking. Memories and ideas still came to me, but deeper, more interesting ones than before. It was as if I had cleared the way for them. I remembered that I used to look at the stars when I was a teenager. I used to read about how they’re born, how they sustain themselves, why we see only some of them, how they die. On Monday morning at breakfast, we were allowed to speak again. Some participants had found the weekend hard, they said. One person had cried repeatedly. Others said that eating in silence had made them feel as though everyone was being cold towards them. As they talked, I remembered old corporate jobs where I was always the office loser. People could sense the aura of failure emanating from me, so I would eat lunch by myself, in silence. I got used to it. I didn’t feel I was learning anything valuable at the time, but life can surprise you. Sticking out is not so bad, I realised. This is the message of most children’s books, but one it’s easy to lose sight of as an adult. Other people’s perceptions of you, real or imagined, don’t have to influence how you see yourself. Social media is designed to erase this perspective. Much of the anxiety it fosters comes from forcing you to see yourself, constantly, as relative to others.

[jjtheresidentbaby]

hi hi hi i’ve recently found your little jj stories and they make me happy stim so much 🥺

a request is maybe jj is poorly on a case? she has a headache or a cold and stuff and all she wants to do is curl up in emily’s arms and rest bht it’s a kidnapping case and they have limited time.

maybe she ends up falling asleep at the table? maybe like with a drink in her hand or whilst eating and the group find it super cute then emily gets her settled down somewhere to sleep whilst they keep working on it??

i really wanna start writing agere criminal minds fics but idkkk🥺

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ sickness & sleepiness ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

|| jennifer jareau x emily prentiss

a/n: I’m so glad you like my writing!! and you should totally start writing, my dms are always open if you wanna talk concepts <33

warnings: Jj being sick, pet names, mentions of a case

-

The whole team could tell Jj was feeling sick today, her flushed cheeks, constantly sniffling nose and drooping eyes gave her away, although the sweatshirt and blanket draped over her despite the dry Texas heat definitely made it extra obvious. Emily’s tried to help the most she can, as has Hotch who graciously put Jj on map making duties with Reid as they try to track down a kidnapped little kid.

There isn’t much anyone can do to help Jj, Emily’s already given her medicine and a package of saltines for when she feels ready to eat something. It doesn’t help that Jj’s headspace has come on unexpectedly because of the sickness, Hotch has locked off the room they’re all in for Jj’s sake, but Emily is still full of worry.

She knows Jj doesn’t like regressing while at work nor does she like having a lot of people around while she’s small. She supposes maybe Jj being so caught up in her constant shivering switching to overheating state is helping her distract herself from the teams hovering, which they’re all doing. Everyone’s aware that Emily’s is Jj’s main caregiver, and to get Hotch if she isn’t available, but that isn’t stopping them all from doing what they can to help Jj.

“Honey we gotta go to a warehouse where the suspect might be, are you going to be okay here? We can have Rossi stay back if you need.” Emily’s hand pushes the hood off of Jjs head so she can reach to feel the back of her neck, it’s still warm as it was earlier, she hopes the medicine has kicked in and that’s just from the blankets.

“I’ll be okay.” It’s barely a mumble, an attempt at a smile on Jj’s lips that eases Emily the slightest amount. No crying is a good sign.

“Ok darling, we’ll be back.” Emily dashes out to the svu’s after that, pushing all her worry for Jj down, as best can at least, and starts to listen to Morgan’s ramble of how they’ll be entering the building.

-

The warehouse stunt goes over a little longer than Emily was hoping, though she’s happy the little kid was able to be reunited with their mom with only minor injuries. She’s ready to get back to her own little.

Entering the room the Texas police have allowed the BAU to overrun for the past week instantly brings a warm smile to Emily’s face. Jj’s in the same seat she was in before they left, the package of saltines loosely in her hand as her head lays against her arm on the table. There’s a small pile crumbs and a few crackers look ready to slide right into the floor, Prentiss quickly picks up the package before turning to where Jj’s still dead asleep. Not even a twitch at the team entering the room.

“Jj? Darling?” Emily rubs her hand up and down Jj’s arm, careful not to jostle the girl too much in hopes of avoiding her waking up panicked.

“There you are, we finished the case, we only have paperwork to do.” A lazy smile and a slow blink of half-awake-ness is all Emily gets in reply, she’s okay with it, Jj needs her rest and she has a hard enough time sleeping anyways. Prentiss can’t imagine it’s any easier while sick.

“Hotch said I could take you back to the hotel and Reid will catch up on our paperwork.” Another nod and Emily decides she’ll have to do this the hard way.

She comes to pull Jj to her feet, allowing the blonde to slump into her side with almost all her weight. Emily brushes the blanket off Jj’s back so it falls into the chair, despite the protesting groan Jj let’s out, if it wasn’t the stations blanket she’d have taken it with them. Instead she grabs Hotchs suit jacket that he holds out knowingly, pulling it over Jj’s shoulders and leading her out to the svu that she’ll be able to sleep in the backseat of.

Jj lays down with a few grunts of displeasure at being in the car, and that Emily can’t stay back there with her as she has to drive. Emily’s just happy she’ll be able to watch over her little girl in full focus tonight.

-

[manicpixxiedreambitch]

Okay so there is this person, right? To protect his/their privacy, I’m referring to them as Mitch. This is nowhere near their actual name. He is a good friend of mine, and I am grinding my teeth in annoyance because they have a boyfriend who is a MAJOR red flag. The boyfriend guilt trips him over everything, forced them to cut off a bunch of their friends, tries to keep them from texting other people, and then it gets WORSE. The dude used to track them on Life 360. He can have the password to their phone, but they can’t have the password to his. HE MONITORS THEIR DMS WITH THEIR FRIENDS. He goes through their phone. Any time they mention hanging out with friends he tries to guilt trip them and say something like “Oh well we haven’t really talked much in three months or whatever but okay” or “That’s fine, I’ll just burn myself out working to keep myself busy while you’re out on vacation with them, but hanging out with them must be more fun” and try to manipulate them into doing what he says. I’ve been trying for MONTHS now to get Mitch to dump him, but Mitch is still hesitant to leave the relationship. Apparently a few weeks ago Mitch did in fact try to dump the guy and the fucking douche nozzle replied with “Oh, you really decided to do this to me on a day I was feeling really suicidal???”

🚩🚩🚩

And so of course Mitch being the kindhearted person that dumbass DEFINITELY DOES NOT DESERVE, felt guilty enough to stay. The guy proceeded to love bomb them like crazy afterwards, too. Three days later I’m hearing this and I’m like “Well he seems happy enough all of a sudden with you he must not be so suicidal anymore. You should dump him now.” And Mitch is like “No because he’s being so nice now!!! And loving and attentive and he has issues but he’s trying to change.” And I am like “Bro you JUST wanted to break up with him. How long has he been telling you he’s trying to change and what changes have you seen?” And Mitch listing a few small things that were the bare fucking minimum like “Oh well I guess he’s not getting so mad. Like the other day I mentioned wanting to hang out with (mutual friend) and he didn’t get mad about it, he just acted a little weird.” And showed me the texts where he got “weird” where he essentially said “We never hang out anymore… but it’s just so much easier with your friends, ig”. BRO WHAT THE FUCK?????? And I’m pretty sure it’s like Mitch has to ask the dude before they even try to think about hanging out with their friends. The guy doesn’t even go to our school. He goes to an entirely different school. And I have this one friend who used to date the guy before and he said the guy was doing that bullshit then, too. And I’m trying to tell Mitch that they deserve someone SO MUCH BETTER. They said that they understand that but they really want their relationship to work. I essentially told them their relationship was more than a couple cracks in the wall or a leaky pipe, it was a whole burning house. And they are still with the guy and it’s so SO frustrating because I can’t stop thinking about how much more they deserve.

I can’t stop thinking about them, and at first I was convincing myself that it’s nothing. I’m not interested in Mitch, I’m just a concerned friend who hates their toxic boyfriend and wants the best for them. I’m just protective of my friends.

…right???

Wrong. Because then the thoughts turned to something different. I keep thinking about how they deserve better. How if they were MY partner, I wouldn’t be treating them like that. I’d be giving them respect and space when they need it, and I wouldn’t make them ask for my permission for anything. And then it proceeded to me thinking about how cute they are and how amazing they are. And then I started having these little daydreams of taking them out on a date.

So, in spite of me saying literally two months ago that despite being bisexual, I have never felt myself attracted to people beyond male and female, I am finding myself developing the smallest, tiniest crush on my trans/genderfluid friend.

What the fuck do I even do with this??????

[renmackree]

For the prompt game - 126 for college!Stiles using Derek's insta DMs as a notes app

I was a Teenaged Mothman part 4 of ???? One day, one day this will be a fic.

Prompt me up!: Open

126. “we’re quite literally fugitives of the state.” - “so no pizza?”

Stiles was laying on his bed with the packet of paper in front of him. He flipped another page open and began circling words in bright red ink and adding little notations on the edge of the paper. He glanced up at the clock, sighing even deeper as he tapped the pen against his lips. It was nearly midnight and he still hadn't heard anything from Lydia on if she was coming home tonight. His roommate had found a new 'fresh face' at the bar and was trying them out before seeing if they were worthy of the great Lydia Martin ride. He had been thinking about just texting her, but the last time that happened the partner she was with had suggested a threesome.

Stiles loves Lydia to death, but no. He was far more interested in someone else right now anyways.

"We’re quite literally fugitives of the state," Steven Dex said on the TV, Stiles' eyes moving to the screen. He had put on one of the Mothman movies (specifically I Was a Teenaged Mothman Too) and couldn't help but smile as Derek Hale's character came on screen.

"So no pizza?" Erik Weizer asked, Stiles mouthing the line along with the actor. 

Stiles tossed the Dissertation from one of their potential candidates to the side and grabbed his phone. While he might not be able to text Lydia, there was someone else he could try. He wasn't sure if the man would even answer, they had only just began texting in some strange turn of events.

SS: Why did Erik Weizer always want Pizza? Did the writers just say hey, that's your one trait? Like pizza and get slammed into walls by Steven?

Stiles went back to watching the scene where Steven and Erik were tracking down where the Alpha moth had gone. It was one of the most quoted Sterik scenes in the franchise and had actually been the part where Stiles himself had started shipping them. He had actually been a little jealous of Jared Ormly who played Erik. To be that close to Derek Hale at ALL times? Yeah, that was the dream.

He heard his phone go off, checking to see if it was Lydia. Stiles jumped up in surprise, seeing Derek had texted him back. He rolled over his bed clutching his phone and kicking his feet in the most awkward and foolish way he possibly could before reading through the texts.

DH: Jared actually said a lot of those lines off the cuff. Most of our lines were improv between the two of us. DH: What movie are you watching?

Stiles grinned, typing back as fast as his fingers could go.

SS: I was a Teenaged Mothman too. 

DH: Gross, that's the one where they used Jello instead of fake blood.

SS: I couldn't eat my dad's Jello salad for a year without thinking about it. He stopped making it because I laughed too hard every time he brought it out. I kept thinking about that stupid line.

DH: "His weakness is the light, quick shine it on his blood?"

SS: That's the one. Do you remember every movie's script?

The phone started to ring, Stiles sitting up and holding it out in front of him with an almost confused look. "Oh my god, who the hell calls in the year 2023?!" The name read "Derek Hale FOR REAL" and Stiles cleared his throat as he answered the phone.

"H-hey, what's up?"

"What was the last line?" Derek's voice was soft, almost like he was trying to keep quiet while talking to Stiles. 

"Uh, Erik just said 'I hope you know what you're doing.'" Stiles looked up to the movie, watching as the scene shifted to a close up of Derek's character contemplating.

"I don't think any of us know what we're doing." Derek was saying the line in almost perfect sync with the TV, Stiles hearing the young 19 year old and the now 30 something murmuring in his ear. "We're teenagers, Erik. We shouldn't have to deal with this. But we will. And come morning, there will only be one Mothman left. It's him or me, and right now, I'm going to do my damndest to make sure it's me."

Stiles whistled low, letting out a chuckle. "Bravo. You're truly a thespian. Such a riveting line."

"I can't tell if you're being sarcastic, but thank you." Derek chuckled. God it was like bells ringing on a clear day and stars falling from the sky. Stiles was a fucking mess when it came to Derek Hale. "It's not the first time you've said that."

"I'll tell you you're a good actor every day. Not many people stick through a series like this and come back from the grave with a new boyfriend."

"I made them write that in to my contract. If Steven Dex is resurrected, he has to end up with Erik." Derek's phone rustled a little and he sighed. "Just like I made them remove my social media restrictions so I could answer you."

Stiles swallowed hard, clearing his throat as he licked his lips. "You.., did what?"

There was silence on the other end for a moment, then Derek sighed. "I couldn't respond to you because my original contract I signed when I was 15 said I couldn't respond to private DMs on social media. Laura thought it was a good idea since underage and in Hollywood, but I really was glad you found me again. I didn't think you would remember."

Again. Found him AGAIN? Stiles wracked his brain, trying to remember when in his whole life he had met Derek Hale. Wait. He met Derek Hale?? Derek Hale knew who he was the whole time???

"Uh, yeah! Of course. I was wondering why you weren't responding but. Glad we could talk now."

"I have to go, we have a press conference tomorrow. Hope you finish your paper."

"Yep! Have a good night, thanks for the call!" Stiles hung up the phone and stared at it, looking over the screen. "When the fuck did I meet Derek Hale?"

[rp-partnerfinder]

Hiii! 28 fem here, I'm **not** replacing anyone, just looking for anyone who would be interested in more stories with me. I have more time to write so if you are 21+ please don't hesitate to send me a dm! Mostly fandom stuff but willing to do original characters as well! I love talking ooc, it helps keep me engaged and I love plotting and collaborating! Can do some days of rapid fire responses, other times it might take a few days. I know real life comes first and I will always be patient so no worries. Would love to hear from you!

Here are some of the fandoms with pairings/tropes I like:

**Spock/Kirk** - Wholesome sci-fi adventures, potential for shorter procedural missions, would ideally want to expand and write other members of the enterprise as needed (such as Bones, Sulu, Nyota, Chekov, Scotty, Nurse Chapel, etc.), would play/write either characters

**Charles/Erik** - Friends to Lovers to Enemies, would do either post xmen first class cherik or would do older versions of them, darker themes, I would prefer to write Erik in this because I don't think I can do the optimistic Charles justice, we need to plot further with this one cause I would be down for lots of ideas

**Deadpool/Spider-Man** - slooooooow burn to even get to friends then maybe 🌈, would mainly start as Deadpool and Spider-Man running into each other doing work/patrols in the city and mexican food, prefer to write as Deadpool but would be willing to write Peter

**Deadpool/Wolverine** - post movie, Logan has nightmares, differences in their timelines, Logan visits this universe's version of the X-Men. Would be open to writing either.

**Harry/Hermione** - my preference would be to start sometime during deathly hallows after Ron left and Harry and Hermione are still dealing with the Horcrux, and writing either is good with me

**Hannibal/Will** - MURDER HUSBANDS 4EVER, post fall, (or I also have very many ideas for this ship, oh man), I would loooove to play Will for once in my friggin life but I would also understand that your sweet soul could not handle Hannibal and I have experience writing hanni

**Lestat/Louis** - set season 2 finale, during the hurricane, sweet *sweet* depressing vampire cuddles while mourning our daughter crying blood, but I get that's a LOT to start so also start of s3 rockstat era, Louis doing Lestat's makeup, would write either, genuinely love these two, tho more experience writing Lestat

**Daniel/Armand** - devil's minion era, or post season 2 TV show devil's minion, Armand IS ALICE au(?), open to writing either (would also do a one shot for Daniel/Louis)

**Crowley/Aziraphale** - I prefer writing Crowley but that's cause I have a very specific view of him and his feelings for Aziraphale, however I do like writing Aziraphale too, post season 2, or lots of different ideas for this one too

**Joker/Akechi** - set p5r term 3, OR Akechi has a palace that they do after Sae’s palace and before Shido’s cause I think Akechi should get to do a patricide, or whenever joker sleeps and goes to the Velvet Room, Akechi is there or they know they are the two tricksters from the start and Joker starts in the metaverse with Akechi and Joker knows about Akechi’s murders but Akechi is his only family until he finally meets the phantom thieves and starts to pull away from Akechi and wants to turn him in

**Lucy/The Ghoul/Cooper Howard** - post season finale as they track down Kyle McLaughlin and figure out what is happening, would probably prefer to play The Ghoul but I would also like Lucy too so IDK not a hard preference actually

**Hughie/OC** - AU he leaves the boys and lives a normal life and is cherished for ONCE in his ridiculous existence, would be fine with either male or female OC just not starlight sorry Annie January you have a cool name but your powers kinda suck and ur personality is idk I just think him and Kimiko would have been cute 🥰

**Homelander/OC** - again I'm fine with male or female and would prefer to write the OC but am open to it. OC could be someone new joining The Seven or someone he somehow met during his childhood or honestly even Sage or Hughie if it's needs to be a canon character for you

**Tyrion Lannister/Daenerys Targaryen** - rewind a few seasons, take things slower then follow the journey to King's Landing and the Red Keep, maybe when they first met, would write either but have more experience as Daenerys. (Sidenote: I also ship Jorah/Dany and Tyrion/Varys so same thing)

**AU / Tropes** I like and would do with ANY of the ships and characters above or even OCs:

Soulmate AU

Hanahaki disease

Teammates/Roommates

Childhood best friends

Enemies-to-lovers

Coffeeshop (always - one exists in every fandom and ship)

Stockholm syndrome 🕊️

Powers OR (No Powers for fandoms that have supes, mutants, magic, etc. )

Amnesia where person A wakes up and doesn't remember person B but wrongly (rightly) assumes person B is their spouse/significant other or just memory loss of critical moments

If you're interested at all, my dms are open! Thank you! 🖤🫶🏼🩵

.

[saltymcsaltything]

I know I am conditioned by trauma to see red flags everywhere and assume the worst of anyone I don't know and trust because experience has shown that it's the safer default, so it's very hard not to see malice and contempt in the behavior and words of @photomatt

But I am trying to turn that off enough to appeal to reason, because in reflecting on his most recent posts in particular, I think it's possible, however much my instincts scream otherwise, that he's just ignorant of what the trans community experiences and actually can't understand why we see his words and actions as harmful and transphobic.

This entire debacle keeps making me think of the double empathy problem - he cannot possibly understand the truly vile hate and abuse we are exposed to on this site or the lengths even small blogs have to go to in order to curate our experience into something that feels remotely safe. Many of us have been physically and sexually assaulted because of our gender and we are at risk of being murdered. TERFs on this site *gleefully celebrate the deaths of trans people including children* and actively target people with a history of self harm and suicidal ideation. That is the context of trans lives that has him painting us as toxic for mocking him and his overreaction to 'threats' that most of us wouldn't even bat an eye at. I don't doubt that anons and DMs have been sent to him that are far worse than the hammer car thing, but he's still only seeing a tiny sliver of the hate levelled against trans people. Maybe if he considers how what he is experiencing happens every day ending with Y for any trans blogger with a sizeable following and that Tumblr's track record for taking action against that is beyond abysmal, he might snap out of this pattern of centering himself over the user's who have been pushed past their breaking point by the years of failure in addressing biased moderation and complete lack of visible action against hate speech. If he does, maybe there's an opportunity to actually see something positive come from this.

@photomatt, I am going to attempt to put aside my visceral aversion to so much of what you've said and done over the last few days and try to get you to understand *why* you've faced the backlash you have, because it is clear you do not really understand our experiences and cannot empathize with them. And please don't claim that you do, your actions and tone towards us say otherwise and it's insulting to watch you claim allyship when you have contributed to the harm we endure on a daily basis. You need to sit with th knowledge that you have hurt us because of your ignorance, reflect, and start actually listening to us. Stop centering yourself and work to see what your actions, words, and the past and present failures of Tumblr as an organization have done to the trans community. Keep in mind that you admitted to having a contract moderator that was actively targeting us and colluding with others to do the same, and understand that the harm done by that didn't disappear when they were dealt with - if anything disclosing that ripped open gaping wounds, and your actions since have poured salt in them.

I doubt this is worth the effort at this point since you seem to have fully entrenched your defensiveness and your framing of a community in the current political climate that is constantly under threat of actual, life threatening physical violence for the crime of existing as "toxic", but if you have even an ounce of humility and genuine desire to support us, I hope you'll consider taking a step back and reflecting on your recent behavior from the perspective of users who have seen communities they have painstakingly built on Tumblr where we had a modicum of safety repeatedly decimated by disastrous policies and practices, and who have for years been actively targeted by bigots who want to see us erased from existence and openly brag about their attacks. Put yourself in the shoes not of a CEO but someone who's existence is under theat on multiple levels on a daily basis, and then read the way that you, the most powerful person on the platform talks about a member of the community who was the target of a malicious campaign of harassment, mass reporting, hate speech, vile accusations and death threats. Try to see what we see - especially the avoidance of the biggest issue for the community, which is the harassment campaign that TERFs are gloating about in the notes of your posts.

Behavior is communication, and your behavior feels *abusive* given your position of power in the context of what we face on a daily basis. Users desperate for a scrap of hope that the common threats that we are faced with on this platform might be dealt with in a meaningful way saw the most powerful person on the platform focusing solely on the "violations" of a single user who was being brigaded by one of the most vitriolic and toxic groups on the platform. Not addressing the harassment being visited on her spoke volumes - it told us you *do not care* about the harm that is done to us on a daily basis by bad actors, but you absolutely care about whats directed at you and @staff. While I sympathize with line level employees who are caught in the cross fire of the backlash you incited with your ignorance and callous disregard for a community that is routinely traumatized, I don't have much empathy to spare for those in leadership who have a level of power and privilege no ordinary user on this platform comes close to having, especially after witnessing how quickly you will wield that power to protect *your* in-group and yourself from a *sliver* of the abuse the trans community endures on a daily basis. It was sickening witnessing how quickly blogs mocking you were banned when people who have done *far worse* to us for years have been able to do so with impunity under your watch when all it would take us for you to look at a single report of the hate and abuse we report and wield the same ban hammer against people who should have been held accountable *years* ago. Knowing you would do for you and yours but not for us is utterly depressing.

And it's not only the trans community dealing with hate speech, death threats and harassment, but in this instance that was who your behavior was harming when you showed what you were capable of doing to protect your people when the issue you repeatedly failed to address but clearly could have was the *massive* flood of hate that the trans community repeatedly reports but sees scant evidence of any response. If there *is* meaningful action in the background, the lack of transparency makes it meaningless because from our perspective there isn't anything being dive to address mass coordinated harassment campaigns that *should* be easy to mask since so much of it is copy/paste anon hate spammed in asks. You claim standard policy is to not comment on moderation decisions but then decided to make an exception in this instance to, from our perspective, shit on a victim of a targeted smear campaign and make claims about their behavior that did not match the evidence you made available, while invoking law enforcement action against someone who is at increased risk of police violence and then doubling down on how much *you and your people* were being hurt when criticized for failing to address the entire situation and for centering your own feelings over an entire community who's suffering on your platform you fail to acknowledge.

Make an exception and tell us what you've actually done to address transphobic harassment. Not doing so when you made an exception to talk about the victim of one of their campaigns is a bad look and is part of why you are being accused of upholding and enabling systemic transphobia. Sticking to your policy of silence for transphobes but making an exception to talk about a banned trans user looks pretty biased,and given the well documented track record of Tumblr when it comes to bias against the LGBTQIA+ community, it's a really bad look. As CEO you should be sufficiently cognizant of the history of these issues and the ongoing problems with moderation to recognize how easy it is for users which have been conditioned to expect the worst to see this as biased. You desperately need to gain some perspective before putting your keystrokes out there on these issues

Your behavior has hurt vulnerable people. It has made people feel unsafe. You're angry about being called a transphobe, but your actions have harmed the trans community and your inaction in addressing those targeting us looks like tacit approval of their behavior. If you cannot clearly and unequivocally commit to take action against the transphobic harassment we face from malicious users on the platform, then your inaction creates and upholds systemic transphobia. Your intentions and principles are immaterial when the impact is harmful. If that hurts you so much to be called out for upholding and enabling transphobia, *do something about it*

I don't think you can be reached at this point and I am not even sure that assuming your intentions are not deliberately malicious is even reasonable, but I would sure like to be proven wrong for once.

But I won't hold my breath. Long before this situation I had blocked you for your ableist behavior regarding forced animations. Suggesting that disabled users could simply pay for premium features in order to have a safe user experience was a stunningly insensitive take. That comment belied your ignorance of the potentially fatal effects of visually triggered seizure disorders and the widespread prevalence and debilitating symptoms of other visually triggered conditions like vertigo and migraine. Your embrace of the prevailing societal opinion that actually, making disabled people pay more to exist at every possible opportunity is just good business was disheartening and caused me to write you off as a fake ally. All you have done recently is provide further evidence that my suspicions were well founded, and at this point if you don't wake up and start actually working to address your failures instead of becoming defensive and painting people you have hurt as toxic, you won't have any users left on this site but the transphobes you are protecting, inadvertently or otherwise. I guarantee other communities are watching you closely and spotting the sane red flags that the disability and trans communities have. You have a lot of work to do to repair the damage you've inflicted and to start actually fixing the problems that have plagued this site for years. None of us are going to want to support this site financially ever again if you continue to behave like this, so your threats to abandon Tumblr are toothless because people are already leaving. You have a chance to salvage this situation if you are actually willing to do the work, and then maybe you can actually monetize things on here in a way that doesn't alienate the user base so that people are actually happy to support the platform.

If you actually believe in the principles you posted, actively work to uphold them *here* take action to protect and support the trans community instead of stepping on a landmine you easily could have avoided by seeking perspective before responding. Prove that you are actually doing something about Nazis and transphobes - give us an option to report transphobic hate speech specifically and release metrics - reports submitted and actions taken. Hell, release metrics on all of the reports - some of those mass reporting campaigns should be pretty easy to spot.

Please actually give a shit about users. You have a great deal of power and you have welded it against vulnerable people. However justified you may feel in doing so, you're still contributing to harm, and you should rethink the way you respond because it makes you appear vindictive and capricious.

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update - 01/07/2024

Nerdie! Happy New Year! How was your first week of 2024?

….I could have used more sleep, but it wasn’t horrible. Just okay overall. There were a few high points. I'm getting organized in life and in fanfiction.

That's a good thing. You're taking your planning seriously? This is The Way. So what's on the way? *laughs at their poor joke*

Don't abuse The Way like that. It's to be respected! But that did earn a giggle. Anyway...

1. The New Year began with all the Pickled Peñas! The @pickled-pena challenge fics were posted on 01/01 but by using the tag: trickle pickle you can still write a Pickled Peña fic if you so choose until January 31st. All Pickle Peña fics are listed here.

2. I finished my Space smut with feelings series Sard’ika Sessions. 🥰 You never forget your first series. It’s quite special, I feel I represented Din well and bent The Creed but didn’t remove any helmets prematurely. I put in all the feelings I wanted (because smut can have feelings too!) And Din saying the things that I giggled and squealed as I wrote them. 😘 This is The Way. Din had his way, all the ways. 🥰

3. Working on WIPs via the WIP Tag/Ask game which @trulybetty got me into. I thank her for including me. I may need to work on some of those titles.

Pedro characters from the WIP list include:

Dave York (4 from the list - guess which ones)

Marcus Pike (has 2)

Dieter Bravo (has 3)

Frankie Morales (@i-own-loki he's not dying)

Joel Miller (Frankie and he are tied for one each)

Din Djarin (one as well)

New characters to my writing:

Benny Miller (one listed, 2-3 not listed)

Santiago Garcia (two listed)

When I turn my brain off after coming home. I note different ideas or vibes I had. Sometimes there's bullet points, sentences or just a few words and a description. @tinytinymenace also has this same issue.

Well, there are three people to thank for plunge into the York Pit. The first, is @goodwithcheese with her asks to be about Dave which lead me to write 3-4 paragraphs to each ask. Also her end of the year confessional. Which is hilarious because apparently the way I misspelled someone’s name (I won’t say who, I feel embarrassed about it still 😣) was specific to me. It should also be noted, that maybe one of the two people I’ll mention next reblogged it saying they may know who it is and to DM them. So subtle, and I laughed because my reaction was, “How did they know?!” 🤣 The person who pointed out the spelling error was @for-a-longlongtime who should be a PI 🕵️ and had encouraged me to start writing the Dave cat-mouse fic. As for the reblog, that was the sweet @legendary-pink-dot who I’m not sure if it was my spelling mistake or the way I write. Special mention goes to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for her recent Dave York fic Inamorata

So your friends seem extremely observant!

That they are! If you want to learn about physics, keeping track of where body parts are and tantalizing smut you read Adi’s Nothing that I Didn’t Know she’s going to have more and we’re going to need all the hydration. Dot ran the Catfish Pond PhD Degree program in 2023. She knows our dear Frankie “Catfish” Morales exceptionally well, every curl and freckle I’m pretty sure. Both very smart and eagle- eyed ladies. 👀

Sounds like we should check both of them out! They sound like a blast!

They both are! And so is Megan when she and @trulybetty when they aren’t trying to get us all under control and herd cats and organize things. 😅 Or maybe they are with threats usually, but nice ones. You gotta be there.

We don’t know what to make of that. We’re concerned but intrigued.

As am I most of the time. It’s a good place to be. 😎

Making her update long enough, Hornado hooligan departs!

Wait, what does that name mean?

Ask @mysterious-moonstruck-musings and @undercoverpena they know, they’re both menaces. ❤️❤️

Love Nerdie 💕

[jinnify]

mixtape: on track – chapter one. when eyes meet 📝

synopsis. new girl yn had felt the need to stay under the radar ever since she arrived at yonsei uni. the last thing she needed at the start of a new semester was drama. that was until she met minho, and hyunjin had a problem with it.

“hello, my beautiful love!” you heard from down the hallway, yunjin making her presence known not just to you, but to the entire hall. you laughed as she draped her arms around you, hugging you tightly, “hi, my jinnie.” “jeez, can you guys just date already?” you heard jeongin complain from behind you two, making you spin around in yunjin’s arms, hugging her properly. “what do you losers want from me?” you ask, making eye contact with jeongin specifically. “woah? does anyone else feel targeted right now?” 

“we’re just passing by,” you heard a soft voice from behind your locker, hyunjin. “oh. okay,” at this point, you had known hyunjin and the rest of your friends for two months. you were able to get along with everyone and even got comfortable enough to make fun of each other, but there was something about hyunjin that prevented you from being able to do that with him. 

you were sure he was a nice guy. after all he was friends with yunjin, felix, seungmin and jeongin like you were, and they were all sweethearts! well, jeongin and seungmin are less so, but still! those boys wouldn’t hang out with anyone who was an asshole, you hoped. you often caught yourself not being able to look him in the eyes, or otherwise, you felt like you might explode from his gaze alone. this time was the exact same, you only gazed at his lips as a form of acknowledgment. maybe that was another reason you couldn’t look hyunjin in the eye, the man looked like he should be a model!

“we’re on our way to drama club-” “you should come with!” yunjin loudly interrupted seungmin. that boy had the patience of a monk. “i wish i could, guys, but i have a class in about fifteen minutes,” you declined as you checked your wristwatch, “if you guys are still there when i get out, i might swing by?” 

“sounds great, love!” yunjin exclaimed as she hugged you again, “okay, i have to go to the restroom real quick. you guys walk her to class, and then we can go!” you looked between the three men around you, shrugging your shoulders before starting on your way to class, “i appreciate it you guys, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“are you sure?” jeongin and seungmin asked. you simply nodded and turned back around, “sure, i don’t want to keep you guys from yunjin and whatever you guys are doing,” you said with a small smile. as much as you really did appreciate it, you still didn’t want to make the boys uncomfortable by making them do things like walk you to your class. “fine,” jeongin said before seungmin started, “we’ll see you later, right?” you chuckled, “i’ll try! if you guys aren’t there when i get out we can always go out for dinner.”

before you had made it halfway down your hall, you turned back, making sure that the boys had left on their way to drama club. you felt your eyes slightly widen as you made eye contact with hyunjin, who was leaning up against the wall, watching you as you walked to class.

m:ot. – ch. 001

previous | masterlist | next

✉️ notes from nia

we're finally back!! im so excited to be working in this ^^ hopefully this time i can enjoy it also small side note in the first screenshot yn replies with "dm!"

taglist. open

@https-skzology

[thepatchycat]

POV: You've made a big mistake.

(Context and base sketch under the cut~)

So I was playing DnD last night with some friends, and our current situation is that we (four Level 8 adventurers) were trying to track down a murderer and ended up tumbling down a slide into a storeroom at an underground black market. Instead of doing the smart thing and retreating to investigate later with better preparation and maybe even an iota of information about what was going on, one of us tried to snoop around in plain sight. He actually did pretty okay for a while, but he ended up getting caught by the guards of whatever mysterious organization is running this black market; the rest of us came out to fight, and so did the apparent big boss of the market, some dragonborn fellow who was very clearly in charge.

This Big Bad Dragonborn promptly brainwashed me, the party druid, into turning into a giant elk and attacking an ally. Charging into a ramming attack, I crit and took out over half my friend's health, and said friend was then put to sleep by an enemy sorcerer. Down two party members (one of whom had become an active threat) and with our cleric put on the ground by a guard, our business-minded sorcerer tried to negotiate a surrender. Big Bad Dragonborn accepted and had my druid de-wild shape before returning to his side, presumably to be tied up and taken prisoner with the rest.

Our cleric, however, was intent on freeing me from the mind control. An earlier Dispel Magic had not worked, but this second one did, and my little gnome druid came back to her senses right next to the Big Bad Dragonborn who'd brainwashed her into hurting her friend. Pissed about this but lacking a high enough ceiling to bring down lightning, I decided to blast this guy with a Moonbeam.

I love Moonbeam! Great spell, can be cast at higher levels and sticks around with concentration to keep doing damage on additional turns. It also has the handy side effect of potentially revealing shape-shifted creatures, should they fail the save for it (and shapechangers have disadvantage).

The Big Bad Dragonborn failed the save.

...Needless to say, the Big Bad Dragon was extremely displeased with being revealed. Our party is now all unconscious (save for our sorcerer, who wisely followed through on surrendering). I am, not for the first time, very grateful that we have a merciful DM who makes villains* that will take us prisoner rather than killing us immediately.

*Technically speaking, we don't even know how villainous this guy is, aside from apparently running a black market. The vibes are bad but we really have no information. We just came in and started causing problems.

Anyway, inspired by both the entertaining trainwreck of a session and a very cool artbook of dragons my sister gave me for Christmas, I decided to sketch what I imagined the reveal moment to look like, shortly before my druid took a face full of noxious gas that put her to sleep :P

[catierambles]

as referring to my last post, the said fictional situation went as thus...

(under a Keep Reading for choice sake and because the more I write it, the longer it gets)

I have a running, I dunno what you want to call it, RPF? Delusion? In my head where I have a friendship (just a friendship) with Henry Cavill because he started playing ffxiv. If y'all know me, I love this game. I (actually) have a toon on the EU servers (Chaos-Phantom) and the running thing is that he had just gotten into the game, I was hanging around the Limsa aetheryte plaza (as one does) and he came up to me and messaged me in the pink (private DM) saying basically "I'm new the game, I have no idea what I'm doing, can you help me out?" Does it denote a bit of arrogance on my part that he would come to me versus any other player in the game? A bit, but whatevs.

The thing to realize with the ffxiv community is that we (for the most part) love sprouts. The term "sprout" refers to the little icon next to a New Adventurer's (player's) name, it's a little green plant sprout, so the community calls them "sprouts".

I am no different. If you're a sprout and you ask for help either of me directly (it's happened) or in say chat, I will help out to the best of my ability. I will send you links and resources and help you on your journey in this wonderful world that is Eorzea. I'll even ferry you around on one of my two-seater mounts if need be. If you decide to part ways with me after you get your footing, by all means, I hope you enjoy yourself. If you decide to stick around and continue talking with me, that's your choice and I welcome you.

Anyroad...

So he comes up to me and says the aforementioned and myself, not knowing who it is behind the keyboard and mouse because how could I, do my usual and go "Absolutely, my dude, what's up?" And it goes from there. We go from ffxiv in-game chat to Discord just for ease and I basically go "It would be easier to do voice comms, here's a discord server I'm in, if you want to, hop on into voice chat. If you don't have a mic or are not comfortable talking, you don't have to, just listen." Because not everyone does or is.

Some time passes, I get him through the start of the game and he decides to stick around. Just from my personal experience, if a new player finds someone that is willing to help them out with no expectation of getting anything in return, they tend to stick around. Humans are pack animals, we intrinsically like grouping with others, especially if unconditional kindness is shown.

I still have no idea about this little sprout's true identity and when he does decide to share it, I'm basically like "Okay, cool, thanks for letting me know." *screaming internally* He starts posting screenshots of our toons on his insta (with our toon names turned off for privacy's sake) so the cat's out of the bag. The ffxiv community goes a bit nuts with the knowledge that Henry Cavill plays their game and Square Enix is also just tickled.

The internet being the internet, our toon names are eventually tracked down and the more...passionate among his fanbase are all "Why tf is he wasting his time with this nobody? She probably just wants something from him." I don't, but yanno, self-projection, and all that. Someone helping another person with no thought as to reward or personal gain? Unheard of.

Anywho...

With the decline of WoW, ffxiv saw a bit of an influx of new players, it became a big thing. Celebrity media outlets caught wind and I, all of a sudden, found myself with a lot more attention heaped on me than I'm used to. (Good thing I work from home and hardly if ever leave my apartment)

He messages me and is like "Hey, so and so wants the both of us to be on this interview show, you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

"Do you want me to be there?"

"...Kinda, yeah."

"Then I'm there." If a friend wants me to do something that would otherwise make me uncomfortable to do on my own, I'm going to be there because they want me there for whatever reason.

It's the first time he and I will have met in person, but at this point, he's not Henry Cavill to me, he's just Henry, the wee little sprout that could.

We go on the thing, I'm very uncomfortable but pushing through it. And then the interviewer drops a bomb

"So we found your tumblr..."

"Oh, really?" I ask.

"Yes, it's very interesting."

"You don't say." dread rising. They then proceed to pull up some of my thirstier posts about him (which have been few and far between since he and I started playing together, so they're quite dated) basically trying to be all "Aha! Isn't this dramatic and exciting! Oh, the ratings!" After a bit of neither myself nor him saying anything, I just kind of look at the interviewer and go:

"If you're trying to embarrass me, mission accomplished. If you're trying to embarrass Henry, by looking at him, mission accomplished. If you're trying to look like an asshole, mission accomplished." And I get up and walk off stage because fuck them, honestly. Bastards. Henry stays behind and I head back to the dressing room and send him a message via discord.

"I understand if you don't want to talk to me anymore. I understand if you don't want to associate with me anymore. I understand if the thought of seeing me or talking with me makes you uncomfortable. Trust me, I understand. What I need you to understand is that I never, not once, wanted or was going to ask anything of you that you were not willing to give. I didn't have any grand delusions or thoughts about our friendship or our relationship as a whole. I do not, and will not ever, ask anything of you or from you other than your friendship. But now that shit has been laid out, if you would rather not, I understand."

I basically just leave it up to him whether or not he wants to stay in contact, or cut off contact completely.

If you made it this far, congrats, you got to the end.

...I need coffee