#but that fear of people knowing about you and your work and judging is real

[candyheartedchy]

I’m not gonna lie, as much as I want to interact with fandom blogs and join in on the discussions on my favorite shows and characters, the fact that I might make some of them uncomfortable due to being a self shipper make me anxious and sad.

[brontes]

Gonna get in trouble at church because I genuinely don’t think “Christian” media should exist as a genre. I think Christians should write good and even excellent stories about the nature of the human condition and if they truly follow Jesus the evidence of that joy and wisdom and goodness will pervade whatever they make whether they like it or not. Stop worrying about what you want people to learn like it’s a lesson and just say something true and beautiful.

And as an audience, stop being afraid of stories that might not agree with you and seek things that are good and true and beautiful.

[seat-safety-switch]

"Aren't you worried about your brand?" asks Josh, the prototypical hominid who was formed in a vat this very morning. Even though scientists have conclusively proven they don't have souls, it is still not okay to commit violence upon their unpersons.

Back on my first cycle, society actually used real humans as internet marketing experts. It was cruel, for sure, but we had no other options. Initial experiments in training dogs to do it had raised the ire of every animal-rights group from here to Baltimore (inclusive,) but you can always find someone desperate enough to work a dirty, demeaning job. A job like search-engine optimization.

"Can you hop on a call to discuss your content strategy?" begs Josh, possibly out of fear. Judging from the look of his skin, he is probably at most six hours old, and nobody has told him what is going on. Sure, maybe he heard from a couple of the older clones in the back of the U-Haul® on their way to my neighbourhood. Just rumour and innuendo, like a schoolyard gossip mill. If I agreed, he wouldn't know how to hop on a call, or even what one was.

Believe me, I've tried talking to them before. Although annoying, I genuinely am confident that the protos are a lifeform that deserves respect. Same reason I try to help earthworms back onto the lawn after a rainstorm. All life is valuable, and unlike previous generations, none of these synthetic non-people asked to go into such a horrific industry.

Josh can tell that he is losing me. He has never experienced failure before, not since he came out of the basic education creche in the factory. He begins to weep, which is honestly pretty brave of him because I hadn't thought they worked out the bugs with that whole system yet. I am nothing if not sympathetic, so I offer him a way out.

"Do you want to go to the junkyard with me? You can hold the flashlight," I ask. He responds with a tearful look of pure glee. It's always easy getting these suckers to do what you want. Tonight, I'll let Josh sleep in the backyard, but not out in the open. Don't want the neighbours thinking that I'm starting up some kind of e-commerce scam.

[collaredkittyboy]

Well it's come up multiple times today so I'll make a post about it.

I think the popularization of the word "twink" has ultimately been really bad for people in general.

I know it's hard to track the positive and negative effects of language but I don't think it's hard to see how creating a word for a group of people wherein the most consistent qualifying trait is "being skinny" is healthy for people's self image. Obviously people have lots of ideas about what it means to be a twink- gay, lacking body hair, feminine, beautiful, young, white- but the most consistent descriptor I've seen is "skinny." Hell, it's even a body type on Grindr; the size below "average."

So it kind of functions as a code word in the gay community: anyone can say that they're only interested in twinks and they don't have to look shallow by saying they only like skinny guys. It's such an accepted attitude that no one really bats an eye when they hear it.

I'm not even going to get into how it's become part of the larger issue of people turning "top" and "bottom" into gender roles 2.0, but that is closely related, because people with any internalized homophobia can look at a skinny, feminine man and turn off their fag alarms by viewing him as a woman or not a "real" man, and it makes twinks more acceptable to society at large.

No, ignoring all of that, one of the biggest issues is that gay men are taught by society that they are only attractive while they are skinny. Just having the label "twink" reminds a boy that people are looking at his body and judging it. There were countless times when I was growing up that people would tell me, "You're such a twink," or argue about whether or not I qualified as a twink because I had body hair. People around you, unpromted, judge your body and give you a label based on it, and that label has a large influence on whether or not you're seen as objectively attractive. I know many other gay people who say they wish they were a twink so they could be more attractive to guys.

So think, you have all these kids growing up being told whether or not they qualify as a twink, and then we have the gay community as a whole where it's completely acceptable to say you're only attracted to twinks. I think its because of all of this pressure to be a twink (in other words, to have a below average weight) that many of the gay people that I interact with struggle with a negative body image or eating disorders.

I mean, people talk about "twink death" like it's an actual event that makes a gay man much less attractive, and no one thinks that, maybe, it's harmful to tell a guy that the very day he stops being young and thin and pretty, he will stop being attractive and celebrated?

I'm not qualified to speak on fatphobia in physical queer spaces because I don't have the ability to frequent them where I live, but I can't imagine that these aren't issues at social gatherings as well. I also can't speak on my own experiences with weight discrimination because so far in my life I have had a naturally thin body, but I have experienced a lot of outside pressure to be thin that have caused me to pick up unhealthy eating habits to reduce my weight in fear that I could become fat later on. Thankfully that is something that I've mostly been able to work past. I'm not an expert, but idk, I just wanted to rant on my silly tumblr blog.

Obviously it's impossible for a word to be inherently bad. I'm not trying to imply that saying "twink" is a magic word with evil powers. Obviously the real issues at play here are fatphobia and harmful beauty standards and body shaming. But in my opinion, the popular use of the word twink has made it much easier and acceptable to express fatphobia, etc, in the gay community by turning "skinny person" into a "type of guy that you should try to be so you can be attractive."

[plutoispurplw]

Mine

Summary: Spencer meeting your apartment for the first time because you avoided it because of the decoration

Words: 1.8K

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, fingering, fluff, creampie, praise.

A/N: Writing this because my room is the example of fangirl. Btw when I use taylor pics is more because they already have the gray filter and not because I picture Y/N to be like that.

Request are open.ᐟ

➜Masterlistᝰ.ᐟ

When you enter the BAU, you decided to act more serious and stop using a lot of colors like you usually did on your daily routine.

Your personality changed too and you stopped yourself from mentioning your likes and about being a big fan about certain things to not look childish.

That continue even after two years of being with the team and having trust in them, you still choosed to be close about your fanatic side and your love for concerts.

The only person that knew was Penelope and you two had went to concerts together and everything when you both had time.

After you started dating Spencer you had changed with him and decided to be more warm with him and open a lot more, when you two had a date you dressed up with a little more of color, clothes that actually reflected your real personality more.

Of all the things that you had been open about with him on late nights together after making love, there was one that you were scared of and it was your apartment.

Your apartment was colorful and was like the reflected of a teenage girl for most of the people who had been there in the past, past partners and situationships had told you that it was childish and that you should changed it.

You almost stayed at his apartment always, being asleep in each others arms was one of the best feeling in the world that both of you could have feel so being there was common for you.

He had asked you about seeing your apartment a couple of times through your relationship of less than a year but you always had an excuse to avoid that from happening.

For example, a month ago while the team was in a case, he had asked you if he could see your apartment.

"I was wondering if that when we're back, can I go to your apartment?"

"Sorry but one of my friend fought with his partner and now they're staying at my house while thinking about their relationship, maybe in another chance." You made your best effort to make your voice sound nonchalant and casual and not let him know about your lies.

Now, you were sat on your desk writing you reports when you amazing boyfriend brought you coffee. While you were tasting the coffee after not having too much sleep at night, you heard the voice of your boyfriend.

"I want to ask you if today I could go to your apartment, no more excuses so don't try to invent something, I had let it passed many times." He was serious when he said that statement, he had gotten tired from hearing all the excuses that fall from your lips.

In that moment you knew it was finally time to give up and let him see it. "I'm sorry for had been lying to you, in compensation I let you go tonight and I make dinner, what do you think?" Your voice was tired, you stared at his annoyed gaze waiting for his response to your proposition.

"You call me if you want me to brought your anything for the dinner." He said before going back to his desk letting you alone with your thoughts, drowing slowly in them fearing of him being the same as your previous partners

After work, you were back at your apartment cleaning everything until it was almost perfect. You had spent almost a hour choosing what to wear of your actually daily clothes.

When it was time, he was there at your door, with a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. "This are for you and your apartment."

You took them from his hands and gave him a kiss. "Before you see everything, please don't judge me." He denied with his head, and gave you another kiss on your forehead.

You let him enter and he could already notice your decorate style from the entrance hall, it had plants and a painting of a husky with her family.

"You have a dog?" Spencer asked you while seeing the painting of the dog and your family. He didn't ask you much about your family to avoid making you uncomfortable if you had any problem of trauma related to them.

"Yes, is a family dog and she is very cute, I wanted to take her with me but the job makes that impossible." You glanced at the painting again and nostalgia filled your mind, he notice that and gave you another kiss on your forehead.

Your apartment was very different from what he expected, it was the contrary of minimalist but in a good way, everything was at balance.

The living room was colorful, the couch with plants at the side that looked well taken care and a coffee table had a nice vase with flowers and candles with cute forms. The wall behind it was cover with vinyls of your favorite artists. Your television had led lights behind it to make it look cool while watching series.

The kitchen was also colorful, the electrodomestics were of pastel tones. The cabinets, drawers and the kitchen island were of a pistachio green tone.

"I know it too colorful and it looks childish but-" He didn't let you finish your nervous speech about defending your apartment.

"It's looks nice, you made a great job at decorating it, it isn’t overwhelming for me." His voice had an effect on you and you stopped, his hand went to your back and started to make relaxing circles to calm you down. "It's nice that you have vinyls and a record player, the quality is better only on the first play."

"That's why I liked them but I have more cds, they are more cheaper to collect." You went to put the flowers in the vase and when you were done he had already entered your gamer room.

That room had a setup gamer of a lilac color and had figures and a lot of things, posters of series and movies on the walls.

"This is how you spent your free time?" His tone didn't sound in mockery, it was actually curiosity.

"Yes, I like to play videogames normally when I have time, not bloody types or anything like that, more like Minecraft." You lay your head on his shoulder while he was seeing the room.

"What's Minecraft?" He was confused and he looked at you with his puppy eyes, those that had made you fall many times and still worked like the first time he had kissed you or hugged you.

For a moment you looked confused too until you remembered that your boyfriend didn't use technology if it wasn't necessary. "It's difficult to explain but it's a open world game, I show you later."

You two went back to the living room and sat on the couch and were cuddling while watching tv, it felt nice to be with him like this and forgetting about any preocupation or stress about the job, you wished it was always like this.

You move your head and gave him a innocent kiss that carried all the appreciation that you felt for him for not laughing at your apartment, he gave you another of his that had been more intense and that had let you breathless.

You felt how one of his hands travel from your thigh to under your lilac skirt, until the pad of his fingers made contact with the cotton fabric of your panties, he started to rub them feeling how you were getting wet.

You let out sighs at the feeling of him rubbing the wet fabric against your clit over and over again, slowly driving you crazy, you hid your head on the crook of his neck to avoid your neighbors from complaining about you.

"You lied to me for four months straight and you don't feel remorse, maybe I should stop and not give you relief." His voice sounded husky while he whispered against the shell of your ear, his voice making you shiver at the feeling of his breath.

He continued his teasing, your panties were soaked with your arousal and you where getting too worked up, your whole body was burning like a pile of old papers.

"Please Spencer, I want it." You whined against his ear hoping that he would take mercy on you and give you the release that you needed in that moment.

His pace was getting faster and harder with any moment, you were a mess of moans and whines, his lips against your forehead giving you kisses and whispering sweet nothings to you.

"You look beautiful like this, you wanted it too much, don't you?" His tone was half sweet and half teasing, he love to make you feel like this, to make you felt frustrated and then give you what you wanted.

He notice you were close to reaching your orgasm and stopped his fingers on his tracks, you whined and started to move your hips to tried to reach you peak alone but his hands grabbed your hips and stopped your motion.

You threw your head back in frustration until you heard the sound of the zipper of his pants, you open your eyes to see the bulge inside his boxers, you felt how you breath got faster again.

You straddled his lap and pulled his boxers down to let his member free, he helped you and entered you with one deep thrust making almost scream from the feeling of him being deep inside you.

His pace continue making you see stars and touching the sky, the living room filled with your moans and whines along with his groans of pure pleasure.

"You're too tight, so good my love, so fucking good." He said against your skin of your shoulder, his voice sounded breathless just like yours.

That's when the orgasm hit you both at the same time, you screamed his name and repeated like a mantra while he whisper praise against your collarbone while kissing it.

"I think is better if we order take out and take a break." You were trying to recover your breath and he just gave you a nod and caress your back under your cardigan and top.

He nodded and took you in his arms and carried you to your bedroom, in that instant you remember why you didn't let him. When he enter he found three plushies on your bed and doll on your desk.

When he saw that, he just lay you down on your bed and looked around. "I still don't see nothing bad, your room is nice and your entire apartment is nice too my love."

He gave you another kiss on your cheek this time making you giggle a little and pulling him for a hug.

Taglist: @bre99 @hiireadstuff @javierpenasredshirt @pleasantwitchgarden @iniyalovesall @caffine-queen @fab-notfat @khxna

[xxdark-obsessionxx]

I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor.

Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down.

BIG MISTAKE

I was supposed to be asleep five hours ago but I couldn’t until I finished this. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky.

CW: Noncon

Dark themes ahead, please read at your own discretion and keep yourself safe. This is a work of fiction and I do not condone or support scenarios like this in real life

_____________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He had seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were absolutely determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.” 

He grabs the edge of your blanket and pulls it off. His smile grows sappy. “You did go for the red pants like I suggested.” He giggles, staring between your legs. “I wonder if there’s a match beneath them.”

That snaps you out of your shocked stupor. You scramble off your bed, slamming your head hard against your nightstand as you try to avoid Tord’s lunging grasp. 

You lay fetal on the floor, tears in your eyes as you clutch your head. “Fuck,” you hiss.

Tord clicks his tongue. He slowly climbs off your bed, crouching next to you. “My poor clumsy sweetheart.” 

You feel his hands in your hair. 

“What do you want?” you gasp. Fear and pain mix as you start to cry into your carpet. 

His hands stroke your hair. 

“You.” 

With that, you’re powerless to stop him as he scoops you up into his arms. You thrash as he dumps you back onto your bed, pinning you down. 

“I know you're scared but it’s ok. I’ll be gentle, my love. So gentle.”

Your mind can’t wrap your head around what’s happening. Tord isn’t supposed to be tying your wrists to your headboard. He isn’t supposed to be kissing your neck and grinding his hard arousal between your legs. He isn’t supposed to be in your home. 

“Such a good girl, staying still for me,” Tord says softly as he pulls back. He slides your pants down. Disappoint clouds his eyes when he sees your panties aren’t red but it’s deepened when he pulls those down and you’re barely wet.

“It’s ok sweets. I’ll figure out what gets you going. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in needing help.” 

Anger wells in your chest as Tord fishes for something in one of his pockets. How dare he. How dare he parrot your own advice back at you. As if this was a simple therapy session. As if you were the patient and he was the doctor wanting to help. 

“Get off me!” you snarl. “You know this isn’t right Tord. Y-you’re sick! You need help!” 

Tord stops what he’s doing to stare dead eyed at you. He plucks a clean rag off your nightstand and stuffs it into your mouth. 

“Enough of that,” he scolds. “You need this as much as I do. In fact, doctors orders.” 

He grins at his own twisted joke. He fishes through his pockets again and pulls out a small bottle of lube. “Yes, just what my love needs. A good thorough fuck.” 

You desperately try to spit the rag out but your mouth is too dry. You twist and tug your wrists but to no avail. This was happening. Your gentle, sweet patient was going to take your virginity. 

Tord carefully squirts lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together. He parts your folds, humming appreciatively as he rubs your clit. 

“That’s it, my good girl. Get nice and wet for me.” 

You feel sick. Against your will, his crooning and his touches stir up arousal inside you. You close your eyes as he gently fingers you as if he was searching for something. 

A minute later, your eyes fly open as he jabs something horrible. Your pussy grows slick from it, pleasure building in your lower stomach. 

“There it is.”

You shake your head violently. Not there, you try to plead with your eyes. Anywhere but there! 

But Tord merely smiles at you and ruthlessly abuses that spot. Over and over his fingers jab and curl,  rubbing it. You squeeze your eyes tight, small moans making their way out of your throat as pleasure jolts through you.. His thumb strokes your clit and you cum embarrassedly fast. You stare at the ceiling and wish you hadn’t wanted to cum at all. 

“Good girl,” Tord praises. He pulls his fingers out, eying them appreciatively. He sticks them in his mouth and sucks, moaning. “So sweet. But I’m too impatient to try it from the source. You’ll have to forgive me, my love.” 

Panic jolts up your spine as you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. You try to climb up your bed rest but you only achieve getting a little higher up on your pillows. Tord sighs and presses forward. 

“It’ll hurt for a moment but I promise this will feel good,” Tord tries to soothe. He picks up the lube and squeezes more into his palm and strokes himself. 

You hate him. You hate him with all your heart. 

He pushed forward and once again, you squeezed your eyes tight. His hand roughly grabs your throat. 

“Eyes on me,” he snaps. “I want to see how good I make you feel.” 

The fear overturns the pain and you quickly open your eyes. He pushes further in, reaching down to run your clit. 

Tord rocks his hips a little, eyes starstruck as he stares down at you. “You’re getting wetter,” he mumbles to himself. A grin spreads across his face. 

His hips snap forward, setting a firm pace. He stops rubbing your clit to grab under your thighs. He lifts them up and pushes until they’re almost touching your breasts. 

He thrusts harder and- 

You squeal, bucking your hips as he hits that horrible spot. You can’t stop bucking your hips, jolts of pleasure stabbing your stomach and stars in your eyes. 

Tord pressed closer to you, caging you in. He holds your gaze intensely, panting a little. His eyes dart between your face and your bouncing tits. 

Like earlier, you cum fast. This one hits you harder. And Tord doesn’t stop. 

You cum again and he pulls out. “Move and I’ll beat your ass with a belt,” he growls. He pulls out a switchblade and cuts the rope off your headboard. He’s quick to tie your wrists together. 

You find yourself on your stomach, ass up. Tord firmly holds your hips. He enters again, pressing down against you. Caging you against the mattress as he pounds into your pussy hard. By the time you’re cumming again, he finally cums with you. 

You’re crying by this point. Overstimulation has you cringing, your pussy tingling as he pulls out. Once again, you start to panic. Tord had come inside you. You thrash underneath him. 

“Stop that,” he hisses, slapping your ass hard. You cry harder as he does it another three times. And another, until you finally go still. 

You hear Tord sigh harshly. “I need to be patient with you,” he mumbles to himself. He gets off of you and you hear him leave the room. 

He’s back within minutes, holding a wet hand towel. You’re gently turned over onto your back and he softly cleans you up. You can’t look at him. 

“Mrrow.” 

Your heart jolts. Your cat jumps onto the bed, purring as Tord pets him with his clean hand. Traitor. 

“You rest while I pack,” Tord says softly. He leans down to press a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll grab everything you need and love for our new home.” 

He climbs off the bed and leaves the room again. He comes back with duffel bags. Your cat paddles up to you and curls up next to you. He purrs hard as you sob your eyes out.

[syzthefrizz]

Tips for writing dream sequences (from someone who has really vivid, weird dreams on a frequent basis)

My biggest pet peeve with fictional dream sequences is that they make too much sense!! They're too relevant! There's not enough random crazy stuff! That's not always unrealistic per se, but you are missing out on some of the fun ways you can reveal information about your character's mindset, fears, struggles, and future.

Most of my dreams have a goal or objective driving the plot, and it's usually urgent. Ex. "escape the huge storm on the horizon", "find a place to sleep for the night in an unfamiliar town", "find a bathroom". This is especially true of stress dreams.

Everything going on in the dream makes perfect sense to you during the dream. It doesn't feel like reality per se, but you think it is. You're living in a house full of vampires that could eat you at any moment? Seems legit.

Emotions and situations from the dreamer's life can/will find their way into dreams, with varying levels of subtlety. The dream could be about the stressful event itself, or it could be some sort of exaggerated metaphor. Ex. I was worried about whether I was a competent CS major while I was still trying to find a summer job/internship, and I was worried about what my professors must think of me. Such a good student on paper, still without summer plans. I dreamed that I ran into my professors all having lunch together at a restaurant (during a dream with a completely different storyline), and I was wearing my pajamas. They judged me.

Certain things are very hard to do in dreams. This could vary from person to person. For me, it's always driving (the brakes never work right), flying (I can't stay off the ground for very long), and running (it's like trying to run through waist-deep water).

People with PTSD may dream about the traumatic event happening differently than it actually happened. (Take this one with a grain of salt - I don't suffer from PTSD, I just research it sometimes so my blorbos can suffer accurately).

You can have a string of loosely connected or disconnected dream sequences back to back, each with an entirely different plot, setting, etc.

People can have reoccurring themes or plotlines in their dreams, which are often connected to their lives/psyche somehow. I frequently dream about running away from tornadoes and being in situations where there's some catastrophe coming but I'm the only one who understands that there's a problem and nobody will listen to me.

It's common for me to have a dream setting that I KNOW is someplace I'm familiar with, but it doesn't actually look like that place at all. Ex. "I dreamed that we were at my house, but it didn't look like my house..."

Dreams can end in cliffhangers. Sometimes I wake up right before I'm about to eat something delicious.

Sometimes people have dreams about doing things that they would never, ever do in real life, and they wake up feeling disgusted. This is Not a manifestation of their secret desires (*glares at Freud*).

Images are the most memorable parts of dreams. I forget the specific plot points, but I can still picture dozens of liminal spaces my brain has created, even years after I dreamed about it.

Dreams will fade from memory very quickly unless the dream had a strong impression on you, you write details about it down or you tell someone about it before you forget.

If you realize you're dreaming during your dream, sometimes you can control the dream going forward. This is called lucid dreaming. I've done it accidentally a couple times, and it's really hard to "hold on" to the dream and control it. I usually wake up soon after starting. With practice, you can get better at it.

Sometimes a normal/good dream can turn into a nightmare, and vice versa. Most of my dreams aren't really good or bad, they're something in between.

Your subconscious brain is CRAZY intuitive. We can argue over the existence of prophetic dreams (I've heard so many crazy stories), but at the end of the day, your subconscious brain knows things that you don't consciously know. If your character is in love with someone, their subconscious brain will know even if the character doesn't. Relationship problems? Deepest darkest fears and insecurities? Your brain knows. A dream predicted the downfall of my first relationship eight months before it happened, down to the reason why we failed. You can absolutely foreshadow this way. A character might subconsciously know what the consequences of their or other people's actions will be, understand things about the situation they're in, know things about the people they're interacting with, and more, despite their conscious realizations.

There are plenty of ways to make a dream sequence relevant to your story, but don't forget to add in some fun, random details. Character A is secretly in love with Character B? Have Character A dream about Character B confessing feelings to them while in a Vine Nostalgia themed restaurant over a plate of mac-n-cheese. The details are the fun part, and you can get as weird as you want. I once ran into my aunt in a dream, and she was wearing a backpack with a bunch of (fake?) hands sticking out of it, making a fan that rose above her back behind her head like some sort of peacock feather costume piece. I was so freaked out that I woke up. I dare you to get weirder than that.

Not everyone's brain works the same way. I have vivid, random, detailed, memorable dreams on a frequent basis. When I describe them to people they often ask "what were you on?". My roommate only remembers her dreams when they're nightmares. I have some friends who say they don't dream. Other friends have really boring, mundane dreams about their normal lives. Some people have weird dreams but only once in a blue moon. It's a good idea to decide off the bat what kinds of dreams your character has, and how often they remember them.

That's it for now, but I might make a part two if I think of more things to add. Feel free to reblog with your own personal dream expertise!

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write hcs for how everyone would be at a carnival?? Thank you<3

The Best of All Amenities (All x MC/Reader - Carnival/Amusement Park HCs)

I'M BACK MOTHERFUCKERS >:D

Hello my beloved Anon, I hope you have an awesome day/night! <33 Thanks for letting me write this for you, and I'm sorry for the extreme lateness of this. I'm on my knees right now forgive me Anon raaaa.

Btw I'm getting back into the habit of writing so cut me some slack for this one. I'm also not experienced with carnivals at all so I apologise for potential inaccuracies my dear. </33

Post-Completion A/N: I just realised this said carnival instead of fucking amusement park I'm so done. I tried to make it work for both I'm sorry Anonnie. i'm sorry but have this anywayy because i've never been to a carnival and don't know what the hell goes on there and also I am kinda silly and if this is inaccurate I apologise

T.W.: Mentions of vomiting.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Amenities: something that helps to provide comfort, convenience, or enjoyment. 

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Brittney is a walking carnival let's be real.

Like her hair screams classic circus-tent except the white and red is pink and blue.

Would get cotton candy and judgmentally eat it while surveying the rides.

Y'all would be going around looking at everything.

She's probably gonna try to not get on anything because she's shitting herself at the thought of getting on a coaster frfr "not bothered".

Will carry iced coffee around, she somehow has an endless surplus of coffee. It's genuinely terrifying.

You both will wander around and gossip, along with judging the outfits of everyone else like it's a fashion strip.

Will get angry af if the line takes too long.

Will get on at least 1 ride out of spite, ends up almost vomiting. "Never again."

Y'all are paparazzi tho like shit's crazy with how many photos you both take of each other. shame it ain't the kinky kind

Deryl would go berserk. Like this boy will literally lose his marbles from joy.

If you invite him to any gathering, amusement park, carnival (hell any park at all), this boy will be dragging you everywhere.

Indecisive about where to go.

Very indecisive about what to eat. he'll harass you for food teehee

Is the type to get really excited about rollercoasters, until it's your turns to go on one.

In that case he'll start panicking.

You'll have to convince him he's not gonna die.

Will be quaking in his boots from fear.

Don't worry he gets on the ride anyway. Especially if he gets one from you after.

Will just be having a blast despite the terror tbh.

Will not go into any haunted house tho.

Like he will sprint out of there.

You'll have to run after him so he won't get lost lmfao.

Will expect emotional support from you after.

You both have a massive ton of fun tho prepare for more bedroom edition fun later.

Jess will be sceptical.

Don't get her wrong, she'd love to go.

But she's shy and a massive homebody.

and can't socialise to save her life

When you both get there, she'll be overwhelmed by the amount of people.

Sorry broski you're gonna have to do the talking.

Will be scared af of the rides, will clutch onto you for dear life.

May be the type to silently vanish and reappear because she's a midget often caught up in staring at venues and looking at things.

Will be the type to just cling to you tbh

She's either glued to you or unstick so hard and fast she'll teleport to the other side of the planet.

You'll probs take photos tbh, she does have an internet influence.

Y'all will be discussing each others' fav idols and celebs over desserts.

And of course loving each other's company and hopefully bodies.

Crowe will be happy to go wherever with you.

So he'll def be willing to do anything at this entertainment complex.

Yáll are probs gonna grab some snacks and take more mellow rides tbh.

He doesn't seem the type to like really violent ones.

Will probably be the type to just observe you go on a ride.

Will also take photos. He wants to admire you remember this day. <33

Will hold your drinks as well.

Will just serve as your porter and server let's be real.

He'll def go on the more chill rides tho.

Will even let his hair down to feel the wind. >:]

and also so you can pull it ngh

10/10 hair pulling sesh would do again yeehaw

You both have an epic day together. Time for an even sexier night

Hyugo would have already been dragging you places.

So when he stumbles upon the existence of this place, you bet he's taking you there.

Y'all are gonna be fucking parading around.

He's gonna just *point* somewhere and you're going.

Like it's not even a question or a debate.

He'll have a maniacal grin on his face while doing it too.

i'm scared send help

shawty getting a tad cray cray here

You're going on a ride hehe and he's gonna stare ahead very intently, grip the steel bar and have a very spoopy grin on his face.

Has a blast.

Y'all go everywhere, you make time for everything.

He'll shoot people in the line to make sure you have time teehee

y'all wont get arrested cause his daddy's got money

Oh. And candy.

You both eat all the candy.

You both also spend like 2 hours vomiting because of how much candy you had.

10/10 would puke guts out again.

But you both genuinely just have a blast. Shame it ain't a blast of smth white and sticky.

Geo will spawn at the venue with the most monotone expression ever. he's still shocked you invited him teehee

Will recoil at the sight of the massive crowds, will probably drag you off somewhere quieter.

Alas there aren't that many 'quiet' places to go to, so he'll grow to tolerate it (because of you and only you).

Will be the type to order food that he knows you like felt like getting, gives it to you anyway.

Will not be caught dead going on a ride, the screaming irritates him too much.

Unless you beg enough, then he'll do one of his choosing. (it's the most violent one because he wants you to stop calling him a scaredy-cat).

Will be dead silent the whole time, gets off unfazed AF (he'll be hiding his nausea dwdw).

Will also probably hide his face because...his influence, his reputation, (his beautiful sexy face), the fucking paparazzi.

Will probably try to make you go somewhere else with him after, like a cafe or smth, somewhere 'peaceful'.

Does enjoy himself though, will probably not admit it due to...pride.

Only thing is; nowhere's more peaceful than your bed teehee

Sol literally will be squealing with joy if you ask him to go anywhere with you.

This man is too down bad to live.

May or may not buy ice cream so he can watch you sensually lick it.

This bastard will 110% enter any form of haunted house just to see if you'd (hopefully) cling to him.

Will end up clutching your hand either way. <333

Everything is on him, like. E v e r y t h i n g. even you!!

You can't pay for anything, 'tis illegal.

Will be the type to just sit on a ride and hold back a smile because he's not bothered to scream like everyone else (he hates it when people do that, will probs wear headphones for the noise), so he'll just sit there and quietly rejoice.

Will bring his own food beforehand, in case you both don't wanna spend money on the stupidly expensive food there.

Is genuinely happy af tho, this guy will do whatever you want, win whatever you want.

Also will threaten people to move out of the line if they're holding it up or something.

Has no shame.

And that's okay.

Because the shameful things he does in the bedroom is more than enough to balance it out. ;)

You both have a banger time tho. *claps approvingly*

[vesppperoro]

can i request angel dust x a protective overlord reader?

Angel Dust x Overlord!Reader

Includes: Angel Dust, Valentino, Overlord!Reader (male)

Warning: Valentino is a warning

A/N: overlord reader breaks his contract real?!!! Anyways. Angel is GAY so I made the reader masc. I hope that doesn’t make you too upset. I tried to make the form as vague as possible so you can imagine your own demon form.

Power. You rose to power more than 10 years ago. Going from a lowly pornstar to an overlord in the matter of a few months. You owned many souls and had your own territory that involved your own porn studio.

You were also a dancer. You owned the souls of your strippers, dancers, and your pornstars. You took very good care of your souls, but you did have to show who was in charge every now and then.

After the sudden appearance of the radio demon, your comrades fell. He disappeared for the 7 years you built your reputation.

Now, you were at the Hazbin Hotel for quite a minute. You had your own territory, yes, but you also enjoyed staying at this place. It was free and you got to help out.

At this place, you met some interesting characters. Charlie Morningstar, the princess of hell. She was the one who founded the hotel and she was very sweet. However, she was awkward socially.

Vaggie, Charlie’s girlfriend. You learned she was a fallen exorcist that the princess found. She was levelheaded and almost always spoke for her girlfriend as the voice of reason.

Husk, the bartender. He was under contract with Alastor. You recognized him as a former overlord. He was stubborn, but he had a good heart.

Niffty, the maid. For a little thing, she was creepy as hell. She loved climbing you and killing bugs.

Sir. Pentious, a snake inventor. He took care of these little egg things that you found weird, but it’s hell. Who is anyone to judge.

Alastor, the radio demon. Everyone knows him. You were the only old overlord he didn’t kill. Maybe it was your matching power, or your presence. You didn’t know.

And finally, Angel Dust. You knew him as Valentino’s little toy boy. That moth guy ranted about him during some Overlord meetings. It’s good to finally put a face to the name.

He was very flirtatious. He even flirted with you. He showed you one of his movies and it almost made you sick. The true fear in his eyes that went unedited, the pain he seemed to be going through, the moans of agony. You could tell he didn’t like it. Why was he showing it if he didn’t like it?

You didn’t want to push on it. You just hung out with him more. You had even told him about your studio! “You should come work for me, darling. I’d give you way better perks.” You smiled and offered. His look of distrust and fear made something snap inside of you. A parental instinct? No. An instinct to protect him. You knew you had to.

After that exchange, you hung close by him. You two became very good friends! He even ended up confessing his love for you and you accepted gratefully.

It took a few months before he opened up, but he eventually did. Angel told you about his situation. His contract, how Val had treated him, his movies, and other things. Not all at the same time, of course. You pieced them together from bits of information he has told you.

Even if you didn’t show it, his situation enraged you. You wanted to kill Valentino, just as Alastor killed the overlords before him. You tried to keep your cool. You did your best to comfort your boyfriend, but you devised a plan. A plan to help Angel Dust out of his situation.

Valentino had come to you about collaborating with him on a porn project. Originally, he wanted you to star in it but you refused sternly. Today was the day you had to arrive at his studio. Angel had been gone the whole day, so you assumed he was there.

After stepping out of the limo that took you to your destination, you looked around the place. You were guided inside by a guard of sorts. You had to show your ID and shit to people at the front before they allowed you into the studio.

Before walking in, the moth man himself came out to greet you. “So great to see you, mi querido..~” He spoke, picking up your hand and kissing it. Your smile let down for a moment and you slowly dragged your arm away. “Valentino. Bring me to the studio already. You’re 15 minutes late.” You said between gritted teeth. “Right this way, el cariño.~” He pulled you inside of the studio.

As soon as you stepped in, the smell of sex hit your nose. You expected it, obviously. It’s a porn studio. But this strong? Does he even clean? You shook it off and tried to ignore the smell. You took a look around the studio and noticed some workers staring.

“Alright. Hello, my name is Reader. I will be working with Valentino on this project. I hope you will have me.” You introduced, bowing your head to the group. You heard some whispers before many just nodded and smiled at you.

Your eyes turned to the door that opened. It was Angel Dust. Your face turned red at the slutty outfit he was in and you waved. “Is that the star?” You questioned. You didn’t notice the slight snarl on Valentino’s face. “Yes.” He took a puff of his cigarette and blew red smoke off to the side.

“Alright. Let me see the script.” You walked over to one of the Hellhounds by the massive pink bed and took the script from his paws. Hands? You didn’t know. You skimmed over the script and you stopped. Your head slowly turned to the moth man and your expression dropped.

“We are NOT collaborating with a script as bad as this. Also, non con? We aren’t doing that.” You ripped the script up, much to Valentino’s dismay. “I will be working on a new one. Expect a better one by tomorrow.” You sighed and shook your head. The look of fear your boyfriend gave the man made you pissed off.

“Angel, may I see you for a moment?” He said, falsely sweet. Before Angel could reply, you stood in front of the moth demon. “You can say whatever you want to say out here.” Your eyes darkened as they scanned Val’s body. You could tell he was hiding his anger, but you could care less. “I’d like to have a word with my star, in private.” He fumed silently. You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Angel, darling. If anything happens, please let me know.” He said nothing and turned to his room.

“For the rest of you, I’ll order you guys some food while I think of how to proceed. What do you guys want? It’s on me.” You heard a mixture of ‘pizza’ and ‘burgers’. You decided to get both. You pulled up a chair and sat near Angel’s room. A loud thud made you jump out of your seat. You slammed his door open and saw the gruesome scene at hand.

Angel was on the ground, nose bleeding and clothing torn. He looked like he had been roughed up. At the sight, your demon form immediately flared. Your hair rose and your eyes turned a dark red. Your pupils dilated and your claws sharpened as well. You grew a bit in size and your voice boomed throughout the room.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Your voice was demonic. It sounded like many voices. Maybe the voices of the souls you owned too, but who knows. You grabbed Valentino by the scruff of his neck and threw him out of the room. You crawled out of the room and pinned him to the floor. He was probably into it, if you really thought about it, but you didn’t care.

“NEVER. AND I MEAN NEVER. TOUCH ANGEL LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN OR I WILL RIP YOUR DICK OFF.” He nodded aggressively and you backed off of him. You ruffled your hair and transformed back. “You have him under contract, correct?” You questioned, staring at the bruises that were starting to form on his body.

“Yes?” He pushed himself off of the ground and brushed the dirt off of his clothes. “Give it to me. Or else.” Your eyes darkened once again as you snarled at the moth man. He hurriedly made Angel’s contract appear and you grabbed it from him. You ripped it up, effectively ending his contract. “Reader..” The spider demon stared at you in disbelief.

“Do you want a contract with me so this doesn’t happen again?” You asked him, cupping his face gently. “…I’ll think about it. Thank you.” You gave him a gentle kiss to his cheek and led him out of the studio. “This collab is over. If any of you want to come work for me, my address is on that paper.” You pointed to a card you placed down earlier and walked out the door with your boyfriend.

Bonus Scene

As you arrived back at the hotel, Angel brought you to his room. “I found this new movie I thought you’d LOVE.” He said happily, pulling Fat Nuggets into his arms as he went to grab the movie he spoke about. “You can tell me about your little meeting while we watch it, darlin’. ”

“It was about the same as it normally goes. There was one interesting part, however.” You picked up the popcorn you had made and placed it in the middle of the bed. “Oh? What happened, sweet cheeks?” He started the movie and walked over to you. He sat beside you on the bed and leaned on your shoulder.

“Y’know that girl Velvette?” You leaned back against the pillows as he placed his head onto your chest. “Yeah. She’s part of Val’s group, right?” His hands made its way to your arms as he held them. “Yeah. Her. She made a theory that Carmilla killed that one Angel. It was interesting, to say the least.” You shrugged and placed your arms around Angel’s body. He laughed at your words.

You two then sat in a comfortable silence. Fat Nuggets squeezed between the two of you and laid there. You gently pet his head, along with Angel’s. As the movie progressed, Angel Dust seemed to be thinking of something. “Darling?” He spoke up. “Yes?” You looked down at his beautiful eyes and kissed his forehead.

“Thank you.”

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "How you're changing and how to find mental peace at this moment"

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to find out what you may be working on or doing in order to feel more at peace with growing and changing and all the confusion and instability it brings. it is supposed to help you see better how you're reaching the latest best version of yourself. this reading was suggested by an Anon (thank you) and the song "teenage dream" by olivia rodrigo.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life. readings do not substitute real life experience nor professionals/doctors advices.

(photos found on unsplash)

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pile 1

Pile 1 you are probably changing something about yourself, very likely how you see yourself and how you let others see you. You maybe felt restricted somehow or unsafe in certain situations, but now you're looking at them under a different perspective. It feels like you're being born again. In general, it seems like you're healing (and probably you've been working a lot already on yourself) a side of you, especially your heart/relationships. You're balancing the pain and realizing what you really deserve for you. You're closing with a cycle of huge distress and discomfort in relation with others and how you got used to be treated by them. You're working on your self worth successfully. Maybe you're also bringing closure to a hurtful past relationship of any type (take your time with that, and remember to give yourself breaks and do things for yourself and try new stuff as well if/when you feel like). You're probably slowly working on standing your ground, on communicating your needs and on letting yourself be seen with no fear. You're balancing your thoughts and actions, especially when it comes to letting others know where you stand. You're focusing on healing your heart and on giving yourself and your own needs the right amount of attention.

Keep talking and being yourself with others. Sure, let them know where you stand, but remind yourself that too strict boundaries (despite understandable, seen what you had to go through: it takes time and some mistakes to find a new positive balance in communication and relationships) may be counterproductive. To find your people, the ones that love you and support you and help you when you need them to, you also need to let them in and let them see you. You need to tell them about yourself and your needs. Especially tell them if you need time to get adjusted with new situations. Don't be afraid of being judged, it won't happen again: people will love you and show the same affection you show them. Be curious about them too, about their passions and fears, about their lives and details (ofc maybe do not start off with deep stuff or act like a creep but... yeah try to find a path that may take you there, to a deeper and healthier relationship). Give but remember to receive too. Relationships need to be balanced also when it comes to how we show interest in the other: especially if you've been through tough relationships you may now be trying to *unconsciously* test others and how much they care for you by always waiting for them to take decisions and include you or show interest in you, but if you don't ever show them your interest in them or ask for their support or propose something first, they may just get bored and leave. Or they may consider you too independent and stop showing interest in you, since you can do everything on your own (that's the actual message you send them everytime you say you're fine and nothing's wrong). You're not a burden for being human and needing others: don't deprive your friends/people from the joy of helping you (the same joy you may feel when helping them). And ofc it's fine to be reserved (you're trying to save yourself from experiencing pain again), but too much of it can be damaging as well and actually bring more pain too.

song: youngblood | 5sos

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pile 2

I'm not sure you're aware that you're changing or in what ways. I think you may just feel something is different but you cannot really see how cause everything actually feels the same as usual. Maybe you have only gained a different perspective on something or maybe you've just outgrown something, a situation or even someone (maybe your old self too). It's no problem anyway: the more we change, the less we're aware we do, so keep staying there: you're probably just being made ready for something else and right now you need to just wait and recover (change takes away a lot of energy). I think you're also more confident in you, more aware of what's going on around you, and even more inside of you. Maybe you're also starting something new, a new endeavour, or new studies or a new hobby and it's helping you gaining more confidence too. Maybe it's a new way of living, a new workout routine or a new diet, or doing therapy/taking care of your mental/spiritual health. You're taking good care of you, you're being more self focused and more in tune with yourself. You're also trying to make your wishes come true in some ways, showing your inner child as well that they can rely on you and that you can help them and yourself. You're feeling bolder and rsponsible of your own life and happiness, and of where you want to go.

Not sure you really need to find mental peace, but maybe you do anyway. There may still be moments of uncertainty, of feeling lost and not knowing where you're actually going despite deep down you know you're in charge of it. Keep staying and checking inside of you, taking care of you, connecting and talking with you. Also with your inner child. Let them help you sort out things from the past that you still need to heal (if you do and when you do, go at your pace). Try to not let the pain and self doubt, the uncertainty and anxiety distract you and make you spiral. It's understandable ofc, but it's something you have the power to deal with (take a break to distract from the possible panic attack and then, when you feel, get back to that trigger/emotion and check the reasons or what it wants to show you. If you need, ask for guidance: don't do it alone if it's too much). Be honest about your feelings and emotions, forgive yourself cause you did what you could and if you can/need to, forgive others too: many times people try to give us what they imagine we may need but they just do it in a way that's not the one we actually need (cause they either cannot give in any other way or cause of their own traumas). Many times we feel left out cause we expect from others things that they cannot give us or that they don't know we need in a certain way: communicate, ask. And if they cannot give what you need in the way you need, get it from other people and from yourself too. And communicate with your higher self and let them guide you as well. Give to yourself first and foremost: show you can have what you want in the way you want. Others will follow your guidelines.

song: halo | beyoncé

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pile 3

You're probably starting a new cycle in your life. Even if now you cannot really see it all, I do think you can already feel it coming in whatever way (different for all of you) and even get infos about it: dreams, signs, symbols... I think things are going to take a good turn and whether you're feeling more relaxed or "hyped" about it, you can indeed feel positive about it and like, sit in the passenger seat and let things unfold. Whatever goal you are trying to reach, it will unfold in the best way for you. Set your goals, write or meditate/pray about them. I think your Guides want to give you back or give you some type of recognition for what you have done, be it self work or anything else. There's still a hint of surprise for you, so just let it all be without trying to control the whole process. Congrats pile 3! "You'll shine the brightest"

This seems like a huge change from the past, and it may require you to take a few more steps in the unknown and heal some more parts of you before the new cycle can actually start. Especially, you may need to put some light over your emotions and change how you deal with them. There may still be demons hidden inside of you, espcially yelling in your mind, trying to cloud your thoughts/judgement and block you from moving forward towards your dreams. Remind yourself those are still parts of you that need lot of love and appreciation. Do not let them scare you, but talk with them kindly. Be compassionate and supportive of yourself in the meantime: changes are never easy to go through, and they may get scary; even if you're advised you can let go, your mind may think otherwise out of past/old mental patterns. Find ways to ground yourself, maybe talk with people you know you can trust. Stay open to discover different truths while letting in your darkest sides too (do not be scared of them). Keep working on you and on your healing and remember that healing doesn't mean absence of triggers but knowing how to react to them properly without letting them take you over and block you. Not to mention that triggers may get tougher the closer we get to closing a cycle so be patient with the process but in particular with yourself. Do not isolate, especially not from your Guides. Remember to get a new/different result sometimes we need to do something new/different. Do not let this "new/different" scare you and block you. And also do not let the past and how much pain still brings you (and your inner child), block you as well. You may feel tired and in need of a way out especially when things get particularly tough and stressful: just be patient please and don't give up. You'll get there, trust that you will make it. Please hold on strong for now and take care of you if things get too heavy, give yourself time to unwind (or nap).

song: feel good inc. | gorillaz

[luveline]

Hi Jade! Congratulations on 40k (deserved deserved deserved!!!!!)

Can I plz request some KBD Steve and Reader for 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐞𝐛 ?

Maybe they’re on a rare date night and they love getting to be alone together but they do miss their babies!

tyvm <3 kisses before dinner —dad!steve and mom!reader go on a date (for a little while). 1.3k

"Are you sure I don't look really stupid?" you ask as Steve opens the passenger door.

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," Steve says simply, hand out to help you from the car. You smile and take his hand. You've done it hundreds of times, but you remember the first. 

"Woman," you correct without irritation. You've been together for almost ten years and you have four children. Four. "I don't think many people would say I'm a girl anymore."

"Ah, but you're my girl," —Steve laughs as you laugh, pulling you from the path of the door to close it and lock it— "so forgive me. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. 'N' I love white on you, as you know." 

You laugh more at his formal talking and fold your arm between his. Robin has made it so you can wear a white dress without fear of stains, agreeing to have your four girls for the day. Though day is a gentle term, because you don't expect anybody to be able to cope with children that aren't theirs for more than a few hours. You suspect you'll have four or five hours (Robin is well-trained and, more importantly, extremely loving toward your children) before one of them has a meltdown from missing you. 

Dove is the likely perpetrator. "She's really moody lately," you say, knowing Steve will get exactly who you mean as you begin walking from the parking lot and down the street to the coffee shop. 

Sure enough, he covers your hand where it rests in the crook of his arm and says, "She's in her terrible twos. But maybe you should be spending a little more time with her." He isn't judging or criticising you, just making an educated assumption. "Heather steals all your attention." 

"You can call her Heather as much as you like, but it isn't her name," you say, nudging his chest. 

"Can, will, is. I think she just misses you." Steve sees you squinting in the sun and offers his sunglasses. You lift your head and let him slide them up your nose, more for his touch and attention than a real need for them. It's a surprisingly sunny day in late September, the wind blowing warm on your bare legs and arms. "You know you're her favourite." 

"Do you ever worry that it's 'cos I don't see her enough? I mean, I'm home now, but that's only for another month. What if… like, what if I work and she grows up missing me so much she resents you?" 

"Do you think that's gonna happen?" Steve asks genuinely. 

"No. I dunno." You turn his face to yours in the middle of the street. You've changed a lot over the years. Being pregnant does that, but so does ageing, and living. Steve looks at you like you're charming, like the fact of your existence alone could make him laugh. You look at him the same. "You know, you get more handsome all the time." 

You kiss him. Steve closes his eyes and follows your lead. He bumps the sunglasses with his enthusiasm, and his kiss grows softer in apology. 

"She'll be okay. But you need more time together. And Avery needs more time with me, and Bethie needs less time in my lap–" 

"I can't see that happening," you say. "She's your pest." 

Steve hears the fondness in your voice and presses his hand to his chest, leaning back. "My girls," he says. 

You pass him back his sunglasses and look around. You and Steve have a favourite coffee shop slash smoothie place that serves all manner of hot snacks. You would've gone for lunch, but you promised Bethie you'd make her special toast (French toast) and might have been too greedy about it. Steve is a slammer for food even now, his metabolism doesn't slow, and you figure he'll have grilled cheese with his smoothie or a cup of soup. 

You didn't tell Steve you couldn't manage lunch, he just knew. He can read your mind these days. You love it more than you can explain. 

"Nice flowers," you say, pointing at the florists. 

"They don't have your favourite ones ever," Steve says, hand on your shoulder to hold you out of his line of view. "They're nice though, the white ones." He points at a bucket on the low sill. "Do you want those?" 

"No, I'm just saying they're nice," you say. 

"Come on, let's go get some. I should've got you some anyways, that's the point of a date." Steve offers his hand. You take it shyly, not so secretly pleased at his insistence. 

You stand in the cool air of the flower shop hand in hand, picking out flowers. It starts with Steve trying to buy you flowers, you buying him flowers, and then the two of you spend forty minutes picking flowers out for the girls. Avery loves roses, Bethie isn't picky so long as the buds are impressively big, Dove couldn't care less about flowers and little baby ‘Heather’ sleeps and eats solely. You get Dove a small bunch of pink peonies and decide to share your bouquet of white flowers with the baby. Steve gets a mixed bouquet and doesn't protest. 

You have too many flowers to take with you to the coffee shop. You both refuse to admit what's happening until you're back in the car. 

"Are we really doing this?" you ask. 

"Why, think we should've bought flowers for Robin?" 

"I think the thank you movie tickets and the chocolates and the five minute hug you forced her into was thank you enough, but maybe we should've." You beam at him. "I mean, are we really going home? We didn't even make it to the coffee house." 

"We could take these home and put them in some water and come back…" He scratches a hand through his hair. "I miss them more than I thought I would. We've been glued together for a month, and I can't stop worrying about the baby." 

"I miss them too," you admit. 

You and Steve get drive through, and you kiss and murmur stupid shit at each other in the car outside of Robin's house for a perfect ten minutes, until Avery throws open your car door to scream hello. 

"I'm so happy you're home so early!" she shouts, scrambling up the foot well and straight into your lap. "Did you have fun at your date?" 

"Well, we were late leaving the house because I realised Dove's been drawing pictures on my button downs, and I almost crashed the car and scared mom half to death because the sun was in my eyes, and we were distracted looking at flowers for years and now we're home," Steve says. 

"So yeah, we had fun," you say. 

Steve leans over to kiss you. Avery laughs and shoves her hand between your faces, "Guys, I think Aunt Robin needs help, the baby won't stop crying and crying and crying and Dove tipped her drink all over Beth's pink dress. I think on purpose." 

Robin is very very sorry, and she didn't even call you guys, so why are you back? But she's grateful to be released. Not nearly as much as the girls are to see you guys. 

Robin is a great aunt, but you have clingy kids. 

"Mom!" Bethie shouts, pointing down at her sodden dress with a wobbly lip. "Look." 

"Aw, sweetheart, I see it. I put spare clothes in your bag, let's go get changed, okay?" 

You and Bethie leave hand in hand to clean up. Steve juggles the three remaining children dextrously, the baby against his chest, Dove's shoulder under his hand, and Avery crowding his other side. He's barely in the living room. 

"Hello," he says, kissing one little head after the other. "Hi, honey. You okay?" 

"Did you at least have a good two hours?" Robin asks sympathetically. 

Steve nods happily. "We did. Really. Next time I think we might even make it to the coffee shop." 

[inbloomwriting]

If I had you II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. Reader thinks it's the easiest thing in the world. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Notes: This is inspired by the song "a daydream away". It's 5.2k words of pure friends-to-lovers sweetness.  Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. It’s a chore to love him, the real him not the overly confident golden boy he portrays on the pitch. Just look at his track record, that just proves his point. Sure his mom loves him, he never questioned that, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for her. He’s convinced he’s made her cry more than once with yet another stupid decision. Then there’s his father who loves nothing more than to belittle him and lay out all his flaws for him and the world to see. And if even your own dad doesn’t love you, how can you expect others to. 

So maybe that’s the reason he doesn’t let anyone close enough to even begin to love him. Sooner or later they’ll figure out how much of an effort it takes and that he, of all people, truly isn’t worth it. 

And maybe, perhaps, that’s also the reason he doesn’t allow himself to explore the feelings he harbors for his best friend. He tried to deny them to himself for so long. Tried to pass it off as pure, unfiltered friendship. That’s bullshit though. He knows the feelings are there and there is no use in denying them. That doesn’t mean he can ever allow himself to act on them though. He’d just fuck it all up, the way he usually does with everything he touches. 

The shiny hardwood floor feels cold and smooth as he sits leaning against the kitchen counter, legs stretched out before him. A smile is permanently etched onto his face as (Y/N) talks about something that happened at her work today. He should listen, it’s probably a fun story judging by the way her giggles make her stop talking every few seconds. He should listen but he is so enamored with her that he can not pay attention to anything else. In a perfect world, in a world where loving him was easy, he’d lean over and kiss her. He'd kiss her silly and she’d kiss him back and life would be sweet and it would make sense. In that perfect world, she would love him back the same way he loves her and it would be easy and he’d deserve her. 

But that is not the world he’s living in. That is not his reality. Just a beautiful daydream he allows himself to escape to every once in a while. Loving her in a daydream is safe. It’s secret and quiet and there is no hurt there and no rejection. 

“Why are you grinning like that, huh Tartt?” 

She asks before taking a sip from the beer bottle clasped tightly in her hands. It’s an unusually hot summer’s day. One that makes it impossible to do anything but sit on the floor in as little clothing as possible and drink one cold drink after the other. Even if that means getting a little tipsy on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Nothing. Just happy to have you here. Missed you.”

“We didn’t see each other for a week and you already missed me?”

He misses her the minute she leaves. It’s like his heart isn’t complete if she isn’t there but he can’t really say that can he? Friends don’t tell friends things like that. And a friend is all she is. His best one but still. Telling her any of this could jeopardize their friendship and Jamie doesn’t think he could handle life without her. Not when a week already felt like torture. 

“Well yeah, I’m proper shit at cooking. I need you to feed me.” 

“Oh, is that so? Thought Mr. Bigshot footballer could get free food at any restaurant he fancies.”

She’s teasing but never mean and never hurtful. That’s something he cherishes so much about their friendship. His feelings, his fears — all of it is safe with her. There is no hurt or pain or fear. Just her and her friendship and warmth. And a pair of open arms ready to catch him whenever he stumbles and falls.

“True. But some fancy place in Mayfair will laugh at me if I ask them to make me dino nuggets, won’t they?”

Her laughter, he decides then, is his favorite sound in the world. It makes everything feel alright even if it’s just for a fleeting moment. He needs to keep his feelings locked up in that beautiful daydream because he can never lose this melody her laughter creates. And anyway, he wouldn’t even know what to do if he ever really had her.

— It’s not like she’d say yes anyway.

“You’re probably right about that,” she says and leans her head against his shoulder. And though it’s muggy and hot and he’s sure he can feel their skin stick together, he doesn’t shake her off. She’s part of his heart already, might as well melt into one completely. “You want me to make you some nuggets?” 

“Nah,” Jamie replies and places a soft kiss on the top of her head. Friends kiss friends on the head all the time, everyone knows that. Right? "That's okay. Already had a Kebab with Roy earlier.” 

“You guys are becoming friends then? Should I be worried I’m gonna lose my best friend status?” 

Jamie lets out some mix between a chuckle and a scoff. As if anyone in all the world could ever replace her. What a ridiculous thought. 

“Well he doesn’t make me nuggets, does he? No alphabet soup either. So no. Not yet.” 

The little shake of her fist she does in victory makes him grin even bigger. He must look like a damn fool. 

“I should probably get going sometime soon, I need to finish up some work and do laundry and do all that boring adult stuff that’s waiting for me at home.” 

There are lots of things he should be doing instead of sitting on his kitchen floor on a Tuesday afternoon getting half drunk on cheap beer and half on his overwhelming love for her. He’s sure there are a bunch of texts and emails waiting for him to sort through. Keeley might be popping a blood vessel soon if he doesn’t answer her about that brand requesting to work with him on some ad campaign. And he will get back to her — soon. 

Right now it doesn’t matter. Right now all that matters is him and (Y/N) and their little corner of safety and — home.

“But I don’t want to.” 

“Yeah, me neither. Just want to sit here with you and — “ 

“ — hang out?” 

“Mh. Hang out.” 

That was not what he wanted to say but none of the words ghosting through his head are meant to be spoken out loud. They are his to feel and think and keep hidden and quiet. 

“Good, we can hang out a little longer I think.” 

And he’ll take what he can get. All the precious minutes she grants him he cherishes. 

Right now could last forever and he wouldn’t mind at all.

Not as long as he’s with her.

Some early 00s pop song is blasting from the speakers of the bar. Everyone’s in good spirits and drinks are flowing freely. 

(Y/N) is leaning against the bar talking to Colin, laughing about something he said, radiating joy and happiness. 

She loves his friends, his boys, his family. Jamie loves that she loves them so dearly, so fiercely as if they are her own family. At this point, they might as well be. She remembers all their birthdays, drops by unannounced with cookies for everybody, cheers them on louder than anybody else. Hell, she even gets Roy to smile and that’s quite something. She’s as much a part of the AFC Richmond family as she is a part of his life. 

“Jamie-Jam-Jam what are you sulking over here for,” her voice cuts through the crowd and the music as she slides into the booth next to him. She looks gorgeous in the hazy neon lights. Then again, she always looks gorgeous. 

“Not sulking. Just — thinking.” 

“About what?”

You. He’d say if he was honest and not such a coward. You and how much I adore you and how hard it is not to tell you any of this and fuck up our friendship. 

“Was considering getting me nipples pierced. I’d have to take them out though and I imagine that would be quite annoying.” 

“Probably,” she agrees and nods her head before adding “It would look sick though.” 

“Right? I reckon it would.” 

She laughs at that and once again it shakes his entire world. Like little earthquakes inside his heart. 

Her voice is quieter after her laughter subsides, soft and gentle, and with the loud music it feels like her words are only meant for him. “I like this,” she says almost wistfully.

“The song? Who’s that, Rihanna?” 

“Not the song, silly boy. This — “ she gestures around the room towards all their friends, dancing and laughing and having the time of their lives. And then she motions to the two of them, secluded and safe inside their own little bubble. “escaping our busy lives for a moment.” 

“Lot of journalists would disagree with you there, love. That my life was busy.” 

“They don’t know you like I know you.” 

There’s a sincerity in her eyes, a warmth, something he can’t quite explain. It’s familiar and foreign all at once. 

“No one knows me like you do. You had pity on Jamie Tartt, messy little prick from math class. They just know Jamie Tartt, the footballer from Richmond.Still a prick but now with better hair.” 

Before he knows what’s happening, her hands take hold of his face and gently rest against his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. Really look at her.

“I never had pity on you, Jamie. I thought you were funny and exciting and infinitely cool. That’s why I wanted to be your friend. And I was right! About the funny part, not the cool part.” 

“Obviously.” 

“But I never took pity on you. I don’t think you realize how highly I think of you. Now let me get a sip of that drink.” 

He’s still in some sort of haze brought on by her words when a groan coming from her shakes him from his thoughts. Her face is all scrunched up in disgust as she places his glass back on the table. “Ew, what the fuck is that?” 

“I’m not sure, honestly. Barkeeper said she’d mix me a Jamie Tartt and I was like fuck yeah, a drink named after me.”

“It’s disgusting. Did you shag and dump her at some point? Like, is she mad at you for some reason?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman before in my life … so yeah maybe.” 

Shaking her head with a smirk on her face she grabs a hold of his hand and pulls him out of the booth and towards the bar on the other side of the place, the one with the older male bartender with the impressive beard.

“You ever had a thing with him?” she asks as she leans against the counter, trying to get the man’s attention.

“Nah, I’d remember that facial hair.” 

From then on the night tastes like tequila and beer and it feels like a warm hug. She doesn’t join in on all his drinks, stops herself after a beer and a shot, but she does join him in all the other shenanigans. Like when they make up ridiculous backstories for strangers and have a laugh about some corporate douchebag trying desperately to get with some woman who clearly has no interest in him. 

“Henry from accounting.”

“Nah, that’s Charlie from HR.” 

“Well, either way, Maisie from South Shields is not interested.” 

He could stay here forever, laugh the night away. Drunk on happiness, on love — and also on quite a lot of booze. 

“Come on, Jamie-Jam, “ she says and hands him his jacket. She’s all gentle hands and gentle eyes. “Let me give you a ride home.” 

“We’re going home?”

“I think it’s time. Think someone had a little too much.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He is but also not. He’s sorry for being a burden — again. He’s not sorry for letting himself enjoy a night of unadulterated happiness with the people that mean the most to him.

“No need to apologize, Jamie. I’m glad you had fun. Now come on, silly boy. I’m tired.”

And when they step out of the place and into the night, all sweaty and hair a mess, he thinks that of all the things his eyes have ever seen, the best by far is her. Then and always. 

London passes by in a blur as (Y/N) drives them towards his house. All the bougie buildings and the iron fences and the trees in the parks, it’s all one kaleidoscope of color, a smudge of light and shadows. 

It’s not like he can really focus on that though. Partly because all he can think of is her and partly because he’s absolutely wasted. Mostly her though. Definitely mostly her.

“Did you have a good time?” his voice slices through the comfortable silence.

“I always have a good time when I’m with you, silly boy. Did you?” 

He rests his cheek against the smooth leather of her car seats and regards her with an infinite sense of wonder and adoration. In any other situation, this position would be deeply uncomfortable but he’s numb to anything but the beating of his heart and the strings that pull him towards his best friend.

“Obviously. Had my best girl with me. “

“Keeley?”

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “Keeley? No you numpty, you!” 

“Me?”

“Why would you think I was talking about Keeley?”

He wishes he could see the look on her face. This is not a car conversation. 

“Uh, she’s the only real adult relationship you ever had and you had a poster of her on your wall. Makes one think things. In fact, I believe that poster is still up.”

Jamie can’t help but scoff at her words. Not in a dismissive way necessarily but this whole conversation seems so silly to him. Yeah, he loved Keeley in a way and yeah she’s still one of his best friends but never has she come close to (Y/N). Keeley hardly ever got to see the real Jamie, the one that didn’t hide behind this larger-than-life footballer persona. (Y/N) met him before that persona even existed.

“Stop thinking things then. You’re my best girl, always.”

He still can’t see her face since she is looking at the road in front of them, but he can see the smile pulling the corner of her lips upwards, and for the moment that’s good enough for him.

Her car comes to a stop in front of Jamie's house but while he drags himself out of his seat, she stays put. 

“What are you doing, love?” 

“Dropping you off?” 

“Are you not coming inside then?” 

“Do you want me to come inside? We spent pretty much all week with each other, I thought you might be sick of me by now.” 

A ridiculous thought if he’s ever heard one. He could never get sick of her. They could be glued to each other for the rest of eternity and he wouldn’t mind one bit. 

Even in his drunk state of mind though, he realizes that’s not something he can tell her. That crosses out of friend territory. So he just chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Do I want you to come in? What a dumb question is that? Of course, I do. I have a bag of those disgusting spicy crisps waiting for you in my kitchen.”

“In that case —” 

10 minutes later they’re sitting on his couch, her legs across his lap, munching away at those god-awful crisps as some overly dramatic American home renovation show flickers across the TV screen. 

In moments like these, love lives here. In these walls and on this couch. And it’s terrifying because thinking about love also makes him think of the possibility of losing it. But every once in a while, Jamie lets himself feel a tiny bit of it. Just enough to keep him going. 

“Hey Jamie,” she speaks up, her face only illuminated by the light coming from the TV. She’s wearing his shirt and he wills himself not to focus too hard on that because that will cause images to ghosts through his mind that he can’t allow himself to ever think about. Images that cross every line ever drawn when it comes to friendships.

“Yes, love?” 

“You’re my best boy too. Not sure I ever told you.” 

He doesn’t answer, not in words at least. But he squeezes her legs as they rest on him, and he hopes she knows. Oh god if only she knew. 

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. (Y/N) knows he thinks so because he let it slip once or twice when he was drunk and his words were all jumbled and his mind was all hazy. 

And every damn time it breaks her fucking heart. Because loving Jamie Tartt is the easiest thing she ever did. It comes as natural as breathing. It feels like a nice ray of summer sun on her skin, sizzling and exciting and warm.

Loving Jamie is a gift.

Now if only there was a way she could make him realize that. But every time he lets himself be even a little vulnerable he is so quick to cover the cracks with stupid jokes or misplaced arrogance before a real conversation can happen. 

She needs him to realize it though. To understand that loving him isn’t difficult. Because how can you tell someone you love them and make them understand just how much they mean to you when they deem themself unlovable? 

Turning her head to the side she looks at his sleeping face. Somewhere between Fixer Upper and House Hunters, he fell asleep, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He’s snoring something awful but she still thinks he’s adorable. Jamie has a mischievous, lovable quality to him that just makes you open your heart to him whether you want to or not. Yeah, sure, he’s let people down, he’s done shitty things, but he’s trying. He’s learned and he’s changed and the price for being young and stupid and cocky should not be a life spent questioning if you deserve other people’s love. 

Jamie Tartt is not hard to love. But loving him and not being able to tell him because he doesn’t love you in quite the same way, that’s just fucking cruel.

The air is loaded with static. Everyone is on the edge of their seat. (Y/N) is huddled in between Rebecca and Keeley, holding their hands and nervously biting at her lip. Emotions are running high as Richmond is playing Manchester. Correction — they’re not only playing them, they are kicking their asses.

It’s 2-0 for Richmond and they’re already 1 minute into the 3 minutes of additional time. If Manchester doesn’t get a miracle, Richmond wins. The thought of that makes a fluttery feeling spread in (Y/N)’s stomach. If this is how she feels, she can only imagine what Jamie must feel like. 

1:30

2 minutes

2:30

3 minutes.

“Blow the whistle. Come on. Blow the fucking whistle.” 

And as if he heard her pleading, the referee blows the whistle giving Richmond their win. 

Laughter and cheers and songs fill the air as every Richmond fan is on their feet celebrating a win they so desperately wanted and that the team fought so hard for.

The win Jamie fought so hard for. 

She tries to find him across the pitch but there are too many people, hugging and celebrating, too much noise. She just hopes he knows how proud she is.

And she hopes that somewhere out there his dad is watching. Sees him win, with the team he doesn’t approve of. Watches him succeed and be the man he never was and never will be.

She hopes somewhere deep in the inky black pit that is his heart, he finds a glimmer of pride for his only son, even if it comes entirely belated.

Jamie has won quite a few matches by now and it’s always a great feeling but some wins stand out. This is one of them.

His heart is filled with gratitude and pride, and his entire system is flooded with adrenaline and utter euphoria. He’s positively buzzing as the team gathers in the hallway leading toward the locker room. Some of them have been whisked away to give short post-match interviews — as if there is much to say other than how fucking awesome it feels to win — while the others are waiting for them to come back so they can all meet up at the locker room for some after match briefing. 

“Superstar, you did it!” 

Her voice carries through the hallway above the rest of all the noise. Like a siren calling out to him, she can’t hear anything but her, it all shifts into the background.

She weaves through the crowd like a fucking goddess in blue. He always thought she looked good in the Richmond colors and seeing her with his name on her back never fails to make his heart shutter with delight. But there’s something about today that makes this even more special. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline of winning. Of making his mom proud and proving his dad wrong. Of proving himself wrong. Maybe it’s seeing her in his kit, with his name and his number smiling that radiant smile of hers. Maybe it’s a combination of all these things. But something makes his brain short-circuit for a moment. Just a fleeting moment but long enough to make him push through the crowd until he’s standing in front of her, matching smiles on their faces. Just long enough for him to softly place one hand on her waist and pull her closer, so unbelievably close. Just long enough to cradle her face in his other hand, gentle and careful, like the most precious thing in the world. Long enough for him to place his lips on hers in a kiss so sweet, so long in the making, it feels surreal. It feels like he’s still stuck in his saccharine daydream.

And then reality snaps back and he pulls away, opening his eyes to a smiling (Y/N) staring back up at him through curious eyes.

“Silly boy, what was that?” 

She doesn’t sound upset, in fact, his delusions might even make him think she sounds delighted. 

“I — “ 

“Jamie, locker room. Let’s go, boy!” 

Ted’s voice calls out to him all full of glee and jubilation. The guy sounds even more chipper than usual and that says a whole lot. 

Pulling away from her feels like having a bubble suddenly popped. Every what-if that has been clouded by post-win euphoria suddenly bears their ugly head again. Sometimes Jamie wishes his thoughts weren’t so fucking loud all the time.

“Go, your coach is asking for you. I’ll see you at the after-party. We’ll talk then, yeah?”

Only they don’t because, for some inexplicable reason, Jamie avoids her like the plague.

Everyone is gathered at the bar for celebratory drinks, it’s a private function, just the team and family and associates. Spirits are high, everyone’s excited. And all things considered this night should be magical. Only it’s not, because once again Jamie refuses to let himself be loved.

Rejection tastes bitter. It’s sharp and metallic. Rejection also tastes quite a lot like tequila.

The salt, the lime, the liquor — it’s supposed to make her feel better. It’s supposed to mend the cracks in her heart, if only for a night. 

It doesn’t do any of that, it only makes her fucking sad.

How foolish of her to believe that he’d feel the same, that he’d finally pick up on the hints she’s been dropping for over a decade and reciprocate the feelings. Maybe they never stood a chance anyway. Maybe —

No, actually fuck that.

He can’t do this, it’s unfair. You don’t kiss someone, not like that at least, and then ignore them for the rest of the night. Especially not when that person is your best fucking friend.

Bumping against people left and right, she makes her way across the room to stand next to a smiling Jamie deep in conversation with a pretty girl, who (Y/N) is quite sure is the sister of one of his teammates.

“I need to talk to you.” It’s not a request. Not this time. This conversation has been a long time coming. It’s time, she thinks, to finally be brave. One can only swallow down their feelings and emotions for so long, until they come bubbling to the surface like a fucking volcano rolling over Pompeii. She just hopes that once the dust settles there will be hope instead of death and destruction.

“Uh, kind of in the middle of something here.” 

She can’t stand this part of him. This fake, unbothered cool guy who has no empathy for her or anyone other than himself. She hates it mostly because this is not the real Jamie, just some cardboard cutout version of him.

“Too bad, that'll have to wait.” 

She doesn’t give him another second to resist or shake her off, just grabs onto his arm and pulls him through the crowd and towards the exit.

The nightly London air feels cold against her skin, making her shiver as goosebumps appear on her arms.

“What the fuck is going on with you?”

“What the fuck is going on with me?”

He can’t be serious.

“Yeah. I had something going there. She was well fit too.”

The urge to smack him across his stupidly handsome face is seriously fighting her desire to kiss him again right about now.

“Good for her but you owe me a conversation.”

“(Y/N), I — “ 

The way he rolls his eyes so dismissively, so suave and cool, it’s like a dagger straight to the heart.

“No, you know what — fuck you, Jamie. I know you have a hard time letting people in completely, and I get that that’s something you have to work through on your own time but the way you're treating me right now is really shit. You can’t kiss me like that and then run. I’ve been waiting for that fucking kiss for over a decade.” 

“What?” 

He looks at her with the signature Jamie Tartt look of confusion and innocence. Like a damn puppy or something. And if she wasn’t so annoyed, so hurt, maybe she’d find it endearing.

“I’m in love with you, Jamie. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. I’ve been in love with you since I was sat next to you in class and you asked me if Pythagoras was that French guy. I’ve loved you when you were just a chaotic teenager. I’ve loved you when you won your first game and when you lost. I’ve loved you when you signed your first contract and when you made a complete fool of yourself on that ridiculous tv show. And I love you now. So to think you finally picked up on it and reciprocate my feelings was — I was so happy, Jamie. Only for you to completely ignore me for the rest of the night. I don’t deserve that. Not from you of all people. “

“Will you let me talk?”

“No, I’m not done yet.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I love you, Jamie and I know you think I shouldn’t and that you don’t deserve it, but guess what? I don’t care. I love you anyway and I am not asking for permission to love you. That’s not how it works. And I don’t love you despite your flaws, I love them too. Even your stupid 2003 looking haircut and your ridiculous clothes that make you look like a male Bratz doll sometimes. Sorry people in your life made you feel like you had to earn it just because they couldn’t see how phenomenal you are. Just you, Jamie Tartt, messy little prick.” 

Silence wraps around them like a thick blanket as a moment passes, then two. Jamie raises his eyebrows in question.

“Can I?”

“Yes, you can!”

“Jesus, alright. Stop yelling at me.”

“Well, I’m upset!”

“And I’m sorry about that. I never meant to upset you. Ever. I just — do you remember that one birthday, I think I turned 12, when me dad showed up and he was just being his usual asshole self and he made me play against him and then yelled at me in front of all the guests when he won? “

She sure does. Even at 12, she wanted to put her tiny little fist straight between Mr. Tartt’s eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You sat with me when I went to my room to escape. Refused to leave my side. Called my dad a wanker and you made me laugh. Then you got me a piece of cake and we ate it on my bed while watching Spongebob.” A smile plays on his lips as he reminisces about that day.

“I was 12 and I didn’t know a lot but I knew that night that I was in love with you and I immediately promised myself I wasn’t gonna do anything about it. Losing you is the scariest thing I can think about and my track record with people is pretty shit, honestly. So yeah I didn’t want to even risk fucking up with you. Rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.”

“So why did you kiss me earlier after all?”

“For one, you looked so fit in blue, with my name on your back. I was full of adrenaline and just so fucking happy. I uh — I think my mind was telling me that it’s finally time to be brave for once.”

Hearing him say it, it’s something she never expected but always hoped for. She’s played this scene out so many times in her dreams and yet she doesn’t know what to say or do now that it is actually happening.

“So what now?”

“Well, if you let me, I was gonna kiss you. Because if you think that other kiss was great, this next one is going to change your life.”

As those words fall from his lips, (Y/N) can’t get close to him quick enough. Pulling him towards her by the front of his shirt. Closer and closer until there is no room left between them and he gently nuzzles his nose against hers. 

“Jamie Tartt?” 

“Hmm?”

“Change my life!”

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thought so. And maybe a part of him still does and always will. But kissing (Y/N), his best girl, the fucking love of his life, it feels quite easy to let himself be loved. 

Feels as easy as breathing. And for once in his life, the reality is so much sweeter than the daydream. 

[konigsblog]

I’d like to direct those sending hate to people simply writing dark content to holding adult video sites accountable if they want to achieve some kind of moral victory.

There have been multiple instances of sites like 🌽 hub taking genuine footage of rape/SA and refusing to remove it even when requested multiple times by the victim. Some of their heavier ‘consensual’ bondage vids etc have been said to involve deliberately pushing expressed boundaries by female actors that have do things they didn’t originally agree to for fear of loosing their job. These are real people- their experiences are REAL and have a lasting physical, social and mental effect.

Ghost, König etc are not real. Y/n, is a reader insert of course, but you are never in genuine danger. Everything you ‘put yourself’ into in these fics, can stop at the press of a button. You can hate it, hate the author and never interact with them again- problem solved (If only y’all would do that). In real life? A SA/rape survivor has lived through it, suffers from it forever and might have the disgusting burden of having to see their assaulter in the flesh at work, home etc.

To insinuate that a piece of fanfic that can be ignored, that you CHOOSE to engage with is as equally abhorrent as the real act is disgusting. It’s downright offensive. It’s a great discredit to us victims and shows you don’t actually give a damn about us at all.

You’ll be silent when it’s time to hold a harmful industry accountable/silent in the face a thousand men saying that 🌽 actresses ‘deserve it’ but will continually send hate to what is a largely femme community for typing words on a screen that you could avoid so easily. Yeah, I know why, there’s a word for it starting with M :)

On that note, most of these people are dead silent on other fandom issues which proves it’s vendetta, not justice based. They don’t actually care about making it a ‘safe place’ (which is impossible, that’s no one else’s responsibility but your own). Not a peep about racism, for example- can’t be assed making fandom more accessible and less exclusive to POC, gotta go out of their way to harass authors though!

You don’t have to like dark content, or even the authors. You can have limits, disdain bad tagging practices, question respectfully why someone might want to read/write such content, but don’t you dare use victims as a scapegoat or insinuate that you are in any way justified if you choose to harass or bully. Do better; focus your energy somewhere actually productive and deserving of criticism, or shut up and move on.

I agree with absolutely everything you said. These are the same people that consume pornography via porn sites, then sit and complain about people having rape fantasies and consuming dark fiction (key word: fiction). They care more about people's kinks and fantasies and decisions in the bedroom (where both parties have consented beforehand), then they do about the REAL rape tapes on porn sites. It's not just rape either, there's a lot of incredibly fucked-up, illegal, and sickening things on these sites that I won't get into. People have their trauma published, profited off of, and are violated for money, and these sites never take these videos down either.

They care too much about their comfort character being portrayed in a way they don't agree with to focus on the poor souls who have had their trauma uploaded online – and to make money off! Are the COD characters real, or am I missing something? They're fictional characters. Just because you don't agree with a headcannon doesn't mean that everyone else also disagrees. It doesn't determine their morality. And honestly, do I really think these hateful and spiteful people are victims of some form of assault? No, I don't. Because victims of SA/rape (who cope differently) filter things out to prevent themselves from getting triggered. I don't think that these hate anons are actually triggered by the content I upload and just want to judge others for coping differently. They just want to seem more moral – as if your mortality depends on your coping mechanisms/fantasies are. If you don't want to watch a video, you wouldn't choose to watch it anyways. You wouldn't force yourself to watch the entire thing, then come to the comment section and cry about how you're not interested in the topics featured in the video. You watching that video was a decision you made, a choice. You wouldn't take a kid to a horror film that's clearly 18+, then scream at the film directors for creating it in the first place. If you're not the intended audience, then don't stay. There is an audience of people who do enjoy dark fiction, and just because you don't, doesn't mean that it can't exist. The world doesn't only revolve around you. It's selfish and small-minded.

You get taught about fiction and non-fiction in Primary school, and yet here we are, have to tell adults (or at least people who claim they're 18+) the difference between the two. If you can't draw a line between fantasy and reality, then you shouldn't have access to the internet. That's irresponsibility. It's people wanting to be saviours, act as if they have the moral high ground because they disagree and think that it makes them a better person, when it doesn't. If anything, them constantly harassing innocent writers is worse than what they try to portray us dark content writers as. These are the same people wishing rape, death, and doxxing towards writers who have done nothing but be respectful and give out warnings before a story. Dark fiction writers have more empathy and sympathy than these puritans who think they're on top of the world for coping differently, because we actually understand that there are different mechanisms to cope after being sexually assaulted.

I will never apologise for writing what I write. I refuse to walk on eggshells around these anons simply because they can't act mature and manage their own triggers. These people won't bother reading the articles that I've linked countless times, or listen to this entire post. Because they're narrow-minded, that's what narrow-minded folk do. They don't hear other opinions or think for a second, that maybe, just maybe, they're being disrespectful. They claim we're romanticising rape by writing it, but don't bother learning what romanticising actually is. I've said countless times that rape is a disgusting, violating crime that deserves years of punishment. I don't describe what these characters do as IDEAL or something to WANT, if anything, I describe them as horrible people because that's how I see them. They're in the military for God's sake...

When they send hate to an author's askbox, do they think for a second about the effect it'll have? Victims go through years of self hatred and disgust after being traumatised, and when they find a coping mechanism, do you think they want to be told that they deserve to be raped again, or that they're disgusting, or that they're supporting the vile crime? Of course they don't, because they don't support victims at all.

These people are too illiterate to read this entire post. If anything, it'll go right through them. In one ear and out the other. Am I also responsible for the media they consume? As in, horror films? Will I hold their hand and cradle them, rock them to sleep because they don't want to take responsibility? That's life. You have responsibilities. You can't just drop them because you feel like it and then put it on a writer's shoulders because YOU weren't thinking.

And sure, I can see how dark fiction can possibly affect reality. But, that's not my responsibility. If someone is has the urge to rape someone, that's an issue on their behalf, caused by mental illness. I can't control what people do, just like how film directors can't control the effect that their work will have. If people get themselves off to my content, that's not my responsibility. Writers and film directors aren't responsible for the effect it'll have on others, because there are a plethora of factors that can change a reaction towards certain content, like mental illness, for example. Mental illness plays a huge factor.

[ellecdc]

I went to get my teeth checked today and kept on thinking abt how Lily would be a great dentist. Gentle hands, nonjudgmental, would be so accommodating to any requests or requirements you have like noise cancelling headphones or something…. And she would be soooo against the trend of recommending treatment purely based on cosmetics rather than need. Like we have doctor Remus how about dentist Lily 😂😂

you know what? this was so cute that I had to write it - also, the conversations between reader and Lily are real-life conversations I've had with dental hygienists so be nice to me, I'm still recovering hahhaah

dentist!Lily Evans x reader who goes for a routine checkup

CW: written with a fem!reader in mind and references to a medieval woman accused of witchcraft but should be gender neutral/no pronouns used otherwise, reader has a brother for plot purposes, reader had braces growing up for plot purposes, reader has a bar on the back of their teeth for plot purposes, also.....reader doesn't floss DON'T JUDGE

You were lying back on the large vinyl-covered dentist chair pondering what exactly it was about dentists that caused so many people anxiety.

This was obviously a distraction, though, as wondering why dentists were so fear-inducing was far more comfortable than thinking about how anxious you felt right now.

You supposed that as a species, humans were wholly dependent on their mouths; it was how they ate, how they emote, a method of air intake, and also how they communicate. For hunter-gatherers, an injury to one's mouth could very well have led to dire consequences.

Of course, something happening to one's mouth wouldn’t necessarily leave them completely helpless in today's day in age with modern medicine.

And though you may not have been a hunter-gatherer, you were also decidedly not a medieval woman accused of witchcraft awaiting your trial by ordeal. But the longer it took Dr. Evans to join you - leaving you ample time to consider the various torture looking devices while reclined on this chair that looked like it could sprout restraints at any moment - the more you began to feel an awful lot like a medieval woman accused of witchcraft awaiting her trial by ordeal. 

The sound of the door clicking shut interrupted your spiralling as you tried to sit up straighter in your chair only to slide back down to your original position. 

But perhaps this wasn’t your trial by ordeal; perhaps they’d already gone ahead and executed you and you were actually sitting in heaven’s dentist office because surely the beautiful woman adorned in scrubs standing before you with long, thick red hair which had been artfully plaited away from her face was an angel? 

You realised belatedly that you’d been sitting there with your mouth agape staring at her instead of confirming your name for her.

“Yes! Yes, erm, sorry.”

But the angel - Dr. Evan’s, she introduced herself as but insisted you just call her Lily - simply waved you off and pulled a stool over to sit beside you. 

“No need to be sorry! Between the constant whirring of machines and my penchant to speak a mile a minute, it can be hard to keep up sometimes. So! You’re here for a routine cleaning?”

You nodded dumbly at her as she pulled a surgical mask up over her mouth and nose, mesmerised by the way it seemed to accentuate the brilliant green of her eyes which only appeared even greener when she smiled at you.

“Alright, well let’s take a peek at what we’re working with here, shall we?” She asked as she encouraged you to lay back after putting a bib on you like some nappy-wearing child.

Oh god; you didn’t know an angel was going to be looking in your mouth! You were expecting some grey-haired bored doctor with a superiority complex; now an angel will know you don’t floss!

“Wait!” You shouted abruptly, startling the angel doctor and encouraging her to put some space between you, though she schooled her expression very quickly. “Okay, listen, I’m sorry. But you see, I had braces as a kid, and they put these bars behind my teeth! You know, to keep them from shifting? And they’re great - so great, no complaints truly; they’ve done their job, see!” You paused to bare your teeth at her like some socially awkward chimpanzee. “No shifting at all. But! But, you see, my teeth are so sodding close together now - again, totally fine! - but between that and the glue and the bar, it’s sodding impossible to floss. Oh shit I just said sodding to a doctor! Oh my god I just said shit! I’m sorry! I just don’t want you to think I’m some plebeian who doesn’t care about dental hygiene because I do! But I honest to god, hand to my heart walked around with a piece of floss stuck between my teeth for three days after I tried last so I just...sorry…”

You fought to catch your breath and it took you possibly too long to realise the angel doctor Lily was laughing at you; the mask impeded the smile but the crinkles in the corners of her emerald eyes and the gentle shaking of her shoulders gave her away. 

“I’m so sorry, I honestly thought you were about to tell me you were going to throw up on me - which would be fine! Worse things have happened quite frankly.” She chuckled as she seemed to relax back into her stool. “Why don’t we take a look?”

Burning with embarrassment, you did as you were told and opened your mouth immediately, wondering if it was at all possible for her to feel your jack-hammer pulse through the barely there fingertips pressed to your jaw as she peered into your mouth. 

“Well honestly, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of build up anyway! I wouldn’t have known you’d not been flossing.”

“Wait, really?” You asked then, causing her to move her gaze from your mouth to your eyes. 

“There’s a little bit of plaque but nothing out of the ordinary! Basically what I would expect to see from someone coming in for a routine check up.” She confirmed before taking one of her torture devices (a dental scraper) to your teeth as you watched her auburn brows cinch closer together. “Your teeth really are close together.” She murmured mostly to herself.

“I wasn’t lying.” You defended quickly, earning you a bright and bubbly laugh from the doctor. 

“Sorry; force of habit. I hear a lot of ‘I absolutely brush my teeth twice a day’ and ‘I floss regularly’ when I can easily see that neither of those things are true.”

After she had explained what she was going to do, you spent the better part of the appointment with her fingers shoved into your mouth. 

“I do not envy your orthodontist; you have a very small mouth.”

You snorted inelegantly at that as she removed her hands from your face. “My brother would disagree.”

You were rewarded with another tinkering laugh as she inspected her cleaning. “Don’t worry about the flossing hun; I’d rather you come in and have me do a cleaning for you than to hurt yourself or damage your teeth trying to floss.”

“I’m not in trouble?”

“Even if I did have the authority to scold you, you would not be in trouble. But I hope to see you in another six to twelve months for another cleaning!” She said as she walked backwards from the room with one last (now maskless) smile in your direction.

Suddenly, dentists didn’t seem so scary, and you found yourself rather looking forward to your next appointment.

[osarina]

to the anon - i’m putting it under the cut because i’m not bringing discourse to my dash again. you are right in that you’re getting blocked, but i'm afraid that's where it ends!

i don't know WHERE you get the inclination that you think i think i'm being "cool" by my previous message, i'm sure that you think you're cool coming on anon to act like the selfship police, but i'll entertain your shitty asks one last time. i did not LIE about anything you said, that's a bold and absurd accusation.

i fear that is common sense. if someone does not have their exact age on their account and gives a vague range instead, you're a crossing a boundary by pressing for that exact age range to call them "weird". don't play stupid, it's not "mature" of you.

but quite frankly i don't CARE what you find weird! i am not aging myself back to being 18 again in my fics, i'm portraying the two of us at the stage in our selfship when we would have both been 18. when people write childhood friends to lovers, and the scene includes them being 12, they are not "regressing themselves" to be 12 again to selfship with a 12 year old version of a character. they are creating plot and substance to that point in a timeline and that's NORMAL. that's how writing works. i can write the 18 year old versions of me and dazai from the past in my fics to portray that portion of the story while still being in the 20s! i like substance and background to my selfships.

what about this is NOT judgmental? you come into my ask box judging me for having a selfship with dazai and pressing me about my age while calling it "weird" (that's a quote!) there is no twisted narrative here, you're acting like the selfship police. more than that, you're prioritizing the feelings of someone that does not exist over the feelings of a real life person. comparing someone in their early twenties to finding comfort with a character that is LITERALLY THEIR AGE is fucking absurd. dazai is 22 currently, he was 18 once. i am in my early twenties currently, i was 18 once. ???? i'm going through the timeline of what our relationship would've been like. comparing this to someone who is 50 selfshipping with a 14 year old is INSANE. that is a FOUR decade difference, not a few years. be fucking real right now, i actually can't believe someone typed this out and thought "wow this will totally get her!!"

again - your "simple question", if you put a little thought behind it, crosses boundaries. don't YOU lie. you can play innocent all you want but we all know that if someone doesn't have something explicitly stated - ESPECIALLY when they have an alternative there - it is CROSSING BOUNDARIES to press and ask for it. you can play innocent and stupid, but it's not going to work here, sorry. i'm not going to let you come onto MY blog and disrespect me.

... let me understand this .... dazai left in the spring .... his birthday is in the summer .... dazai is eighteen when he leaves the mafia .... meaning his birthday in the summer passed (and thus spring as well), so he left the next spring ... which means he's been 18 for nearly a whole year ............ regardless of the fact that you just disproved your own point, you sent no source and i'm afraid i'm not going to just take your word because i cannot find ANYTHING on this topic online.

on this topic, i never claimed to be the end all knowledge of dazai, i am not asagiri, i don't know everything and i dont claim to. but continue to get your snide comments in, i hope it makes you happier.

i allow simple questions when they are not rude and disrespectful. furthermore, i am NOT a content creator. i am a person who enjoys writing and enjoys sharing it. this is my personal blog, i don't make money from this. i will repeat - i am NOT a content creator, i don't like that term and the implications/expectations that come along with that. and this ask is precisely why.

this is the end of this discussion. there is one immature person here and it is YOU. you can act innocent and play stupid, but everyone knows that wasn't meant to be a simple question, and your response is even more showing of that. you're not going to come onto my blog - MY safe space - and disrespect me. the moment you ended that ask with "it's weird" it becomes rude and judgmental. if it was meant to be a simple question, you would have cut commentary altogether.

comparing someone who is in their early twenties selfshipping with a character who is ALSO in their early twenties to someone who is 50 selfshipping with someone who is 14 is actually insanity. i will always add substance and backstory to my selfships, just like i do with my fics. if you don't like that, kindly stay off my blog.

and claiming that i'm immature when you're throwing a fit in my inbox over someone selfshipping with a fictional character is more telling of you than me.

i will reiterate one last time that i am not a content creator nor do i want to be treated like one. this is my personal blog that i write fanfiction on. i don't get paid, i don't get sponsorships, brand deals or anything. i write fanfiction for myself and i share for those who might be interested. i'm not going to sit here and be told i'm "bad" at something that i'm not because you have a preconceived idea of how i "should" be acting because you presume i'm something that i'm not. it says right on my nav that this is a personal blog.

you're blocked, this conversation is over. i hope you reflect and realize why you were wrong here and you don't put another writer on here through the same thing.

i hope you have a good life and heal. peace and love.

[writingquestionsanswered]

hey, i love your blog, you’re so kind for doing all of this. kudos.

i was wondering if you have advice on how to not be terrified of sharing your work with the world? i write a lot of fanfiction (and someday hopefully some original stories) but i get so so anxious about ANYONE reading them so they usually end up rotting in my google docs, and eventually i stop writing them because i don’t get the motivation that comes from reader responses

but the issue is i’m not sure how to tackle this anxiety. as someone who has published works, do you have advice for this?

Tackling the Anxiety of Sharing Your Work

For my answer, I'm going to cobble together some bits from previous posts and add some new stuff. ♥

Sharing our fiction with others is one of the biggest steps we take as writers, and it can be scary no matter what you write. But, if you want to be published, it’s a necessary step. As with so many things in life, doing something that requires courage is often just a matter of taking a deep breath and doing it. "Ripping off the band-aid," as they say.

However, there are some things that might help ease the associated anxiety a bit:

1 - Try to Pin Down Your Specific Fears - One of the first things you may want to do is try to figure out what you're specifically afraid of or what's making you the most anxious about the prospect of sharing your work. If you can find the root cause, it might be easier to tackle the associated anxiety. Are you worried people:

will think your writing is bad?

won’t like your writing style?

won’t get your story/characters?

will judge you for what you write about?

will think less of you for writing at all or what you write about?

will blab about your writing to others?

will steal your ideas?

will see similarities between your story and others?

will make you feel tied to a project you might not complete?

I tackle some of these in the writing-related-fears portion of my Motivation master list.

2 - Don't Rush It - If you take the time to properly revise and edit your story, you can be confident in knowing you've put in the time and effort to make your story the best it possibly can be.

3 - Start Small - If you can, try sharing your story first with an "alpha reader," or in other words a trusted friend, family member, or community member who can appreciate your story. In this case, you might say you're not looking for specific feedback but just a general impression of what they liked about the story. This way, it's not about getting constructive criticism so much as getting over the hump of sharing it and getting the little boost of what they like about the story.

4 - Gradually Go Bigger - From there, you might try sending to a couple of beta readers and opening up to a bit more feedback. The great thing about this is not only are you conditioning yourself to sharing and getting the opinions of others, you can potentially use the feedback to iron out kinks in the story if there are any.

5 - Use a Pen Name - You might want to consider using a pen name for anonymity. Pen names have many different purposes, but much like wearing a mask at a party, they can decrease your inhibition a bit because it creates a bit of a buffer between the real you and your writing.

6 - Post and Let It Go - Many writers get around the issue by simply not engaging with reader feedback, and if you're someone who cares what other people think or are likely to be daunted by the prospect of criticism, this may be the best route for you to go. Now, I know that with fan-fiction in particular, reader feedback is often used for improvement. But the truth of the matter is, you shouldn't rely on reader feedback for improvement anyway. Alpha readers, beta readers, critique partners, and editors are a much better metric for where to improve. When you get your feedback elsewhere, you can post your story and let it fly on its own without worrying about what others are saying.

I hope that helps!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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