#but we're different people now and i get it

[yougavememyopia]

Here's the result from the poll! Sorry, it took long. I lost my progress and had to write it over T-T. Longer than usual to make it up to my lovely peeps. Anyway, here is the confident, popular yandere who becomes a desperate pathetic mess for you.

Popular yandere, who was never alone. Circled with adored gazes and loud chatters, people gathered around him like he was some kind of celebrity. His overstretched smile full of fake glee. Crinkled eyes masking a hollow emptiness. No one would care enough to truly look at him, all too busy talking nineteen to the dozen.

It was so easy to predict them. The mundane topics boring him to death. Nothing exciting ever happened. Gritting his teeth, he endured their ramblings. Endured their dullness. Their stupid problems.

Taps of his pencil slapped the wooden desk rapidly. A practiced, charming grin when he greeted you— his new project partner. The invisible loser at the background whose face he rather recognized.

"Hey there, guess we're partners, huh? What a total unplanned coincidence! Uhh, anyway, you can pick the topic. Nono, please, go ahead. I'll just follow your lead."

His crew strolled passed you in the fields. Always sinked down on the grass with your back against the concrete wall. Blue light reflected on your face, nose buried deep in your phone.

Your lack of a life amused him. Fascinated at how isolated you were, and yet you were beaming. Giggling at your screen while your posture got worse. Not seeming a bit sad about being alone or wasting your time playing on a machine.

Simple enquiring quickly led to obsessive stalking. Justified by stating how he was merely observing you. Interested in your name and your hobbies, what you ate for the day, where you walked when you had no school, how the interior of your home looked like. A bit of curiosity, that was all!

The school project was the key to getting closer to you. Instant refusal to every person coming his way, sweet talking them into grouping together by pointing out their strengths. No objections were made. His judgment very well-trusted. Now you had the idolized annoyance as your group member, exactly like he planned.

FINALLY, he could talk to the nobody persistently invading his mind. The endless thoughts of you giving him heartache. He couldn't get his beauty sleep at night, and when he did, the dreams were all about you. He wasn't normally the type to approach people, not like he had the time to. Every waking moment of his day was stuffed with zealous yet shallow admirers. Everyone loved him. Gawking at his good looks, adoring his style, praising his intelligence.

You didn't even bat an eye.

He was nonexistent to you. Eyes boring into indifference. Frustrated, at how you treated him like he was someone insignificant. People already began to question his strange, out of the blue behaviour. How he stared at the wall without blinking. You were getting the best of him— he couldn't keep his mask on, uncontrollably snapping at people, apologizing as if he was having a bad day. Every day was a bad day. A torturous wait for you to just look his way.

If you didn't notice him anytime soon, he was going to do something crazy.

Thanks to the project, you finally spoke to him. Irritated, sure. But you saw him, a dopey grin on his face when you repeated back his name. Even getting away with patting your shoulder. He greeted you in the hallways the day after, approached you during lunch the next week, and then started to text you like crazy the following month. No idea how clingy he was acting until you pointed it out. Falling more in love with your weirdness and hidden personality.

You acted uncertain towards him. Hesitant that this was a prank. Afraid that you'd become a laughing stock if this progressed any further. So you built a metaphorical wall between you.

Questions after questions overwhelmingly flooded his brain. Your behaviour much different than the way he was used to being treated. Sarcastic remarks and harsh dismissals hurt his poor, sad heart.

He started to crave even the slightest approval from those around him— what did they think of his carefully picked outfit? Or his light makeup and shiny hair? He needed you to drool over him like the rest of the school did, yet you still didn't trust him. Accusing him of being fake, when all he wanted was to befriend you.

"B-but I swear, I genuinely want to be your friend. Please, listen. I can be myself around you. I don't have to be perfect, y'know? I thought you'd understand..."

As you grew more doubtful of his intentions, he became more hopeless. Desperate to change your mind while fighting the insecurity that loomed over him.

You pushed him to completely give in to the urge to follow you home and watch over you from a distance. He'd ask his many connections to keep an idea on you when he couldn't, but since their questions and teasing and judgement would get on his nerves, he settled for a tracking device instead. The digital dot always beeping in the same, familiar spots on the map.

His mind jumbled into a chaotic mess. Your dislike for him beyond his comprehension. All he ever did was be nice, so why did you not give him the time of day? Gifts nor compliments, nothing was good enough for you. He had never did anything like this before. Chase after someone. Love, actually love someone.

For your attention, he was willing to do whatever.He longed to be useful to you. Be at your beck and call at any time like a loyal dog. Everything from your terrible posture to your poor diet to your sleep schedule, he could take care of it. He could take care of you.

In the end, he had no patience, he couldn't stand the wait— he had to ask you out. A spontaneous minute that he wished he could take back. Stutters left his lips while he tried to make the date sound super romantic. Roses, candle lit dinner, moonlight. A perfected plan delivered with anxious jitter. Red face burning hotter than glowing coals and big, round eyes awaited the response.

"Eh... no thanks."

His eyes twitched. You were a loser! A common known label that he hated to use. But how could you turn down the first guy who pursued you? Choosing fictional anime crushes over a live flawless boy pleading for a date. How long were you going to stay in your lonely shell as a kissless virgin?

His determination didn't waver. He was willing to do anything to win you over. Countless attempts turned down due to excuses. Weeks after weeks of him chasing after you. You were driving him insane. Like you were doing this on purpose. "No?!? W-Wha... Why not? You don't want to go outside, you don't want to come to my place, why... Why can't I come to yours? I-I don't care if it's messy or if it s-smells. I actually love it. Um, I just need a chance, please. I need to prove to you that my love is real."

How did he end up being the one begging at your feet? Fingers clenching around your calves, while he looked up with a shameful blush on his face. Embarrassing himself in front of everyone he knew. Their gasps and murmurs ringing through his ears. Humiliation turning his body weak. Hot unwanted tears flooding his vision. He didn't care— he couldn't take the rejection anymore.

"Please believe me, please. It hurts so bad. Ah, I can't breathe. I love you so much. Pleasepleaseplease don't push me away. Don't cast me aside. I want to be with you. I want to be with you..."

He could barely make out your face with the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. His forehead rested on your knee, his head down as if waiting a death sentence. It was getting more awkward the longer he stayed on his knees. Yet he stayed glued to the harsh, cold floor. He'd never felt emotions to this level of intensity before you came. The hurt tightening his chest. A vice grip clamping down to crush his lungs.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you sighed. Feeling bad about the dishevelled flawed mess he turned into. Sweat worked up on your skin from the many eyes staring at the scene.

"You won't stop until I say yes, huh? I guess you proved you were telling the truth. So, fine. Let's get going now... You brought quite the audience here."

"..." His head remained stuck against your knees. Hands shaking against your legs while he exhaled. Not budging at all. The hushed whispers exchanged in the background making your blood boil. "What are you guys staring at? Scram! Go away! Leave him alone."

And they slowly faded one by one. You ran a hand through the soft, silky hair of the needy boy. More attentive to the mess on the floor to care about your surroundings anymore. Sitting on the floor beside him, you lazily wrapped his arms around your neck. A finger pressing his chin up so you could take a good look at him. He sniffed. Eyes all puffy and red. A deprived beg escaping his glossy lips.

"Please... I—"

You cut him off with a small smile. "You can hug me until you're satisfied. I'll be here."

Arms tangled tighter around you. Head tilted in, and you realized what this meant. A hint of anxiety bursted butterflies your stomach. But you went for it. Suppressing the flinch and moving in. Eyes half-lidded when velvety flesh met. Low hum buzzing from him. He pulled you closer and closer. Lips parted while you snaked your tongue into his mouth. A loud moan met your eardrums. Your little theory of him wanting you to take charge confirmed correct.

He melted like butter despite how you barely knew what you were doing. Uneven movements and unsure licks were just met with pathetic whimpers. Each stroke of saliva making him hot and dizzy. You had a way of making him unbelievably sensitive. No clue to why he felt like this was his first real kiss too. Never understanding the fuss about this pleasant feeling until now.

He pulled back for breathe much too soon, and panted against your face. "I'm so glad we found each other, darling. C-can I call you that? Since I'm your b-boyfriend now... Right?"

You didn't answer. He didn't give you a chance to. Another peck was placed on your lips. Desperate tongue reaching to wet your lips while you cupped his face. Hands grabbing your wrists to ensure you keep them there. Determination ran through him; He was going to plead and plead until you finally gave in.

[elyendrya]

I'm something aroace (still getting that shit figured out), but like... special someone can mean so many different things in my experience. I had a special someone, she made me consider things like having kids or getting married when I'd never considered those as real possibilities. But a continuing source of frustration for her was that I treated her like a friend, and we had very different needs. Because even when I had this "special someone", I was still aroace!!

Now I'm embracing being poly and I have several people I'm really close to. I'd also say that while we have something special, I'm still very much aroace. We've had times on a call where two partners were doing stuff together and checking in with me to make sure I'm included, and I'm just building some LEGOs. I'm happily involved with them, but I'm still very much aroace.

One of my partners is also aro!! We cuddle, we go on dates, we tend to each other's emotional needs. We have a very fulfilling relationship. We also lack a lot of traditional signifiers of a relationship because there isn't that romantic element. It looks like an intimate friendship. Because we're still aro.

But also you still don't need to have a relationship at all. If all of my relationships evaporated and I was just left with the friendships, I'd still be happy. I don't need to date people to be happy. Because I'm still aro.

So I guess what I'd say is that even if you did happen to connect with someone, that doesn't invalidate your identity as aro! My experience is that aro people can have fantastic relationships if the vibes are right. Those relationships just look different. It doesn't mean we were wrong. However our love lives look, we are still aro. And that's beautiful to me.

"B-b-but what if ur not actually aro!! What if u just haven't met the right person yet?? Ur still young 🥺"

Than I'll stop using the aro label. I'll realize that I was incorrect and go on with my life. No one's changed my mind yet though. I haven't met that "special someone 🥺🥺🥺🥺" "yet" so I don't care about this entirely hypothetical person.

Aphobes are stupid ngl. Realizing that this label doesn't fit me (which it will almost definitely still fit me as I get older) isn't going to be some world shattering event. I'll move on, I'll accept my mistake. Lol

I'm not ace, but this post wasn't about being aroallo so go wild, I se you aroaces and aces, y'all r cool so you can tag it as ace and aroace

Everyone in the reblogs and comments, talking about how finding the right person doesn't invalidate being aspec are right, I should've said that in the post, but this point has been made on this post by others a thousand times. It's getting a bit annoying. No hate but if it happens again I might turn of replies and if it happens again in a reblog I'm turning those off too.

[kamospeach]

Hey girl, just read your Eren one shot and I was loving ittt. Could I ask for a one shot of Eren x black female bestfriends who have a flirty relationship but Eren finally makes a move when she gets asked out by someone else? #smutty please ☺️

we might share the same brain cell :P

you don't want me to see nobody else .ᐟ

plot: bestfriend!eren is tired of only being best friends.

content warning: pining, mutual pining, jealous eren, oblivious reader, slut shaming (barely), titty sucking, oral f!recieving, fingering, cowgirl

peachy's yap: i've literally thought about this so many times i love best friend eren in every way !

“her? nah she's my best friend."

"girlfriend... i don't have a girlfriend. oh y/n? that's my best friend."

"yeah we live together but we're strictly best friends."

those were just three of the many different statements eren replied to strangers. strangers being people your friends brought the two of you around. your friends themselves couldn't even tell others what you both had going on.

"y/n and eren? well, they're best friends, and uh... they hug a lot."

"yeah they do that often, she always sits on his lap."

"when did he start holding her waist in public? that's new."

"truthfully i've seen them kiss. on the lips!"

all of it was true you and eren did hug a lot even cuddle when it was cold. you sat on his lap proudly in public, especially at the club you wouldn't dare let some stripper twerk on your best friend. he held your waist when you and your friends walked around the mall looking for things to buy.

you did kiss twice though once at a dinner party on accident when you turned to talk to eren and the same when he tried to kiss your cheek. another time when you both were crossfaded in your room you looked over at your best friend. his eyes were low and his pink lips shiny from chapstick and he looked very fuckable.

but even after that your friendship stayed the same and you didn't falter. you were best friends and even promised to be in the next life. and today was just like every other day.

"ren!" you yelled and eren walked to you from your shared kitchen. you laid on the couch wrapped in a blanket watching a scary movie. he stood at the end of the couch looking at you with a raised brow.

"yeah ma," he asked and you pointed at the tv his eyes followed your finger. you could barely hear the tv from where you sat. "what you scared?" he laughed at you and you frowned.

"no i ain't scared!" you defended although you were truthfully scared that wasn't what you wanted. "remember how your fat ass stepped on the remote and it broke yesterday?" you said and he looked around trying to act like he didn't hear you.

"what about it?" he asked still looking at the TV.

"i can't hear it and we haven't got a new remote. so can you turn it up pleaseeee?" you asked and he scoffed turning up the TV and looking at you to see if you were satisfied. you nodded in approval happy now that you could hear the TV. "thank you, hun."

"mhm you're welcome," he mumbled walking over to you and kissing your forehead. things like that were everyday interactions for you and eren. it was friendly and you never thought of it any other way. you watched the movie until eren came into the living room with two plates.

he handed you one and sat directly next to you in the corner of the couch. you lifted the blanket placing it over eren's legs. he grabbed your legs placed them over his lap and looked down at you.

"what movie is this again?" he asked and you scoffed rolling your eyes.

"i don't know it's on a random channel, no remote remember." you playfully remind him to which he scoffs. he promised he would go out today and buy a new remote after work.

since you took today off you sat in your room all day waiting for eren to return. just for eren to come back with two bottles of Don Julio, a family box of Cheez-Its, and a value pack of sour gummy worms. everything but a damn remote.

"you don't gotta remind me every time." he laughed and you shook your head.

"i'll go get it tomorrow." you laugh as a comfortable silence settles between the two as you both enjoy the meal. after you both finished he left to clean the dishes and returned minutes later. he sat down in his previous spot except this time he pulled you in between his legs. you leaned your against his chest looking up at him.

"hm?" he hummed in a questioning tone and for a second you weren't exactly sure what you wanted to say. lost in his green eyes that you swore swirled hypnotizing you into becoming a mute. his fingers rubbed small circles on the bare skin of your thigh. his other hand under your oversized teachers resting on your stomach.

"you work tomorrow?" you asked and he nodded looking at the time seeing it was getting close to his bedtime. he was trying to stay up later so you wouldn't call him an old man but he was exhausted. "can i ride with you?"

"yea, you can." he cleared his throat standing you up and standing up behind you. "finna go to bed," he mumbled stretching as your eyes never left his happy trail until it was hidden by his shirt again.

"can you sleep in my room? i got scared." you now admit to being scared by the low-budget horror film. he obliged as you both went to your room.

the next day was how you expected stressful, tiring, and overall draining. it was going on 3 pm and you only had one client left. you had two appointments and even did three walk-ins you were beat.

you looked across the tattoo shop at your best friend who looked even more exhausted than you. he was finishing up his last client it was his second large back piece of the day along with 3 smaller tattoos.

eren was always the busiest it was his shop and everyone loved his work. although you, connie, annie, and mikasa were good at what you did, it wasn't beating eren's talent by a long shot. you stood up walking over to his station sitting next to him watching him work.

after another 20 minutes, your client arrived, he was a regular client for you. if you were being honest you gave him discounts here and there because he was fine as hell. whenever he called and needed you to squeeze him in you never told him no.

"wassup y/n." he smiled his white teeth nearly blinding you with its reflection of the sun. you returned his smile patting the back of the seat.

"heyyy come take a seat," you said and got started with the process. you were first sitting in silence until he asked about your day. taking the opportunity to rant about your stressful day.

"man if i known that i would've waited until tomorrow or when you ain't have as many people," he said and you shook your head.

"i'll never tell you no, you know that." you send him a bright smile and he returns the gesture.

"i must be your favorite?" he laughed and you nodded slowly still keeping your main focus on his tattoo.

"you might be..." you say and he sends you a smirk. he was getting cocky and you fed into it.

"then let your favorite client take you out?" he looked at you and as much as your body wanted to freeze up from shock. you stayed calm lightly nodding your head. "not for no free tattoos or nothin'. i been liking you for a while and i've known you for three years now and..." you cut him off as he started to ramble.

"i'll go out with you." you laughed trying to lighten the mood. he was obviously a little anxious but you admired him for asking.

"oh ok cool, bet." he nodded to himself and you smiled the whole time you finished his tattoo. you were just happy someone you found attractive thought the same about you.

after that, you both said your goodbyes and you walked over to eren who sat in his chair waiting for you to finish. he grabbed your bag from you and you both made sure everything was good to be locked up. you switched the lights off following eren to his bike.

"what were you and that guy gigglin' bout?" eren asked handing you your helmet and you shrugged.

"nothin', much he asked me out and that was about it," you tell eren and he freezes turning to look at you. you weren't sure why he looked so shocked at that statement so you chuckled.

"what?" you asked getting on the back of the bike and he shook his head. not bothering to say anything to you he just wanted to get home. he sped home going a little faster than you liked your arms wrapping tightly around him.

once you both made it back home eren wasted no time jumping off the bike. he didn't even look back at you and rushed into the apartment. you followed behind him oblivious to his anger.

"what you want for dinner i'll cook," you say and he shrugs his shoulders walking to his room and slamming his door shut. you stood in front of the door in shock, you and eren never stayed mad at each other.

you shook your head going to your room and deciding on taking a shower. you sat your phone on the counter in the kitchen along with your keys and bag. you went and did your regular shower routine before going to cook. when you came out eren was sitting at the island eating food.

"you doordashed?" you asked and he nodded. looking down at your phone and then back at his food. you frowned seeing your phone had lit up meaning you had gotten a notification. you walked over grabbing your phone seeing it was a text from the client who had asked you out.

6:23 pm

it was good to see your pretty face today how does friday at 7 pm sound?

you smiled at the message about to text back until eren snatched your phone. you looked up at him with your eyebrows furrowed in anger. "eat your food." he nodded in the direction of the bag and you squinted your eyes at him.

"fuck we forgot the remote again." you groaned. eren watched your every move you felt him watching. but you ignored it not wanting him to know that you were nervous from his intense gaze. "what's your problem today?" you asked getting it over with.

"you gonna go out with him?" he asked and you turned to look at him like he had lost his mind.

"why would i not?" you say grabbing your food and sitting next to him. he hummed nodding his head almost like you were irritating him. you both ate your food in silence just as you were about to swallow your last bite eren spoke.

"you ever thought about how it'd make me feel?" he asked and you choked on your food not sure what he meant.

"what?" you asked and he sighed looking away from you.

"i'm just sayin' like we best friends and stuff..." you cut him off assuming he thought you both had to sit down and contemplate whether or not you would date this guy or not.

"you expect me to run to you like you're my father and ask if it's that i date him?" you said now getting angry that eren was acting this way.

"that's not what i'm getting at bruh. i'm sayin' like one guy comes and asks you on a date and you just said yes?" he said and you squinted your eyes at him.

"you callin' me easy?" you asked grabbing your empty plate and throwing it away. not only were you fed up with his attitude his words hurt you.

"no ma that's not..."

"don't 'ma' me. you sittin' here callin' me easy and getting mad that someone showed interest in me. i've never had a boyfriend because they're always scared of you. let me have this one please." you practically beg eren. and then there it was again. that swirling in his eyes that was saying everything and nothing at all. you began to storm off to your room but eren asked a question that made your stomach churn.

"have you ever... thought about me? in that way?" he asked you and you blinked in shock.

"in what way?" you asked, you needed him to be straight up and tell you what he really wanted to know.

"have you ever thought about dating me and uh... being with me?" he asked and you cleared your throat. you never thought you and your best friend would be having this conversation.

"yes i have... maybe a year ago," you admitted and he grabbed your wrist pulling you back to him.

"when we kissed? in your bed?" he asked and you nodded slowly.

"i thought about you for days, months really. i hid the way i felt, i didn't want you to know," you admitted to him.

"i've always felt that way about you," he admitted and you looked at him your eyes running over his face. his eyes, nose, lips, everything that made you feel the way you did a year ago. "don't go out with him... go out with me."

you didn't know what to say but you knew you wanted to kiss him. it had been a year since you felt those lips against yours and you needed him. you were standing between his legs as he sat on the barstool in your kitchen. his hands gripped the exposed skin of your waist as you both stared at each other

you couldn't wait another minute to press your lips against his. the softness of his lips and the urgency in his movements made it all the more sensual. your hands ran along his shoulders finding their way in his hair. you took out his bun letting his hair fall as you ran your fingers through his hair.

"have you ever thought of me like this?" you asked referring to the intimate moment you were both about to have.

"so so so many times," he said breathlessly lifting you like you weighed nothing. he sat you on the counter gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. he stood between your legs and went back to kissing you. his hands found their way to your ass and massage the flesh. your hands rubbed the back of his neck playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

he pushed his tongue in your mouth his tongue roaming around your mouth. the kiss was sloppy spit sloshing and swapping between your mouths. he pulled back as a line of spit followed, both of your chests raising and falling at a fast pace.

he grabbed your jaw pushing your head backward and attacking your neck. you whine at the feeling of his teeth grazing the muscles of your neck. he kissed down your neck and behind your ear, you could hear his rigid breathing. his hands reached under your shirt noticing you don't have a bra on.

"no bra?" he asked smirking and you sighed as he pulled your shirt over your head.

"i just g...got out the shower." you stuttered as he rolled his nipples between his pointer finger and thumb. he pulled at them watching your eyes flutter close at the feeling. he roughly grips your breasts fondling them and looking at you.

"put em' in my mouth," he instructed looking up at you through his lashes. your eyes widened at the thought and he nodded letting you know he was serious. he stuck his tongue out as you grabbed your boob placing it on his tongue.

his mouth latched around your breast sucking and lightly biting at your nipple. his hand grabbed your right boob fondling and playing with your nipple until he switched. he sucked so hard that you felt your need cunt clench around nothing wanting him in you so bad. your hands played in his hair pulling him away from your chest.

"why'd you do that?" he frowned looking up at you. his eyes were 3 shades darker.

"i need you..." you whined and he smirked at your neediness. he lifted you off the counter kiss you as he walked over to the couch placing you on your back.

"can i take off your shorts?" he asked and you nodded. he took off your shorts looking at your skimpy panties that were soaked. your juices creating a wet spot on your pretty pink panties. eren spread your legs his nose nudging the spot sniffing your scent.

eren let out a guttural groan and the smell and pulled off his shirt. his body was nothing new to you but seeing him hover above you with his shirt off made it so much more sensual. he unbuttoned his pants taking them off followed by his boxers. he was huge not as big as you imagined but to be fair you imagined him to be 13 inches.

although he wasn't as long as he was in your wet dreams, 8 1/2 inches was bigger than most. he was bigger than most of the guys you followed on twitter. you reached up grabbing his dick and your hand couldn't even wrap all the way around it. you stroked him slowly and he threw his head back his cock already twitching from the feeling.

"let me taste you," he mumbled and you looked up at him with a smile. you wanted to tease him, he was a naturally dominant man. even one second to be a tease was enough to make you feel superior.

"what was that rennie?" you asked in a seductive tone rubbing your thumb across the slit of his tip playing with the stickiness of his precum.

"i said let me taste you," he said louder this time and you nodded. spreading your legs. eren gripped your panties easily ripping them down the middle. your lips and swollen clit on full display your entrance dripping your wetness. "such a pretty pussy... so wet for me." he hummed leaning down to lick a long stripe down your folds.

he sucked on your clit and now and then teased your entrance with his tongue. he groaned into your pussy while he eat you out your body squirming under the feeling. your legs tried to squeeze together trapping his head between them, the feeling so overwhelming.

eren pushed your legs open letting up from your clit. his thumb swirled over your clit and you moaned loudly from the feeling. without warning he pushed his middle finger in fingering you roughly.

"you like that baby?" he asked with a raised brow and your head was thrown back as you moaned loudly at the feeling. he didn't get an answer from you so he pushed in a second finger. you whined at the pressure of a second finger. "you keep ignoring me i'll add a third." he said deeply and you pushed your limits thinking there was no way he would.

he fingered you vigorously so fast that you could hear your juices sloshing. your cunt tightened around his fingers. loving the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you. since you didn't answer eren did as he said he would add another finger in. you squealed he was stretching you so good and the feeling was overwhelming.

"m'close ren." you moaned feeling that feeling in your stomach.

"tell me how much you love it then i'll let you cum." he said and your voice was giving out from your moaning and screaming. "c'mon ma just three words." he taunted you while he fingered your wet, needy pussy. he ground his hips into the couch getting harder by the minute watching you leak all over the couch just from his fingers.

"i love it ren fuck!" you yelled and he smirked as your body gyrated from the orgasm begging to be released.

"cum for me baby, cum for your best friend rennie." he said as you let go cumming hard, your cream coating his fingers as your body shivered from the pleasure. "gooood girl," he said pulling his cream-coated fingers out of your cunt. he pushed them into your mouth as you sucked and slurped your cream off his fingers.

he pushed them down your throat making you gag on all three of his thick digits. you smiled at him as he leaned down kissing you. his tongue dancing with yours as he tasted you on your tongue. you sat up pushing him down on the couch. he leaned against the back of the couch as you straddled his waist.

"you sure?" he asked and you nodded wanting to show him what you could do. although you never had a boyfriend didn't mean you never had sex. you wanted to show eren what he had been missing.

you planted your feet on the ground lowering yourself onto him. he moaned in your ear and you whimpered at the way his cock stretched you. he was way thicker than those three fingers he used earlier. you lowered yourself fully onto him until your ass met his thighs.

your eyes were closed and your body ground into his, enjoying the feeling. after you adjusted to the size you began to ride him. your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands gripping your waist.

"fuck baby you feel so good, so wet, fuck." he groaned as you fastened your pace bouncing on his cock. you couldn't slow down you couldn't take it slow, not with the way you felt every inch of his cock stroking your insides.

"mmm ren." you moaned leaning your chest against his kissing him biting on his bottom lip. your pace slowed a little until eren moved his grip to your ass helping you ride him. still kissing you roughly while he moved you to keep the same fast pace.

his big hands almost covering most of your ass, he slapped one encouraging you to ride him faster. he watched the way your beautiful brown ass rippled from the force.

"you're doing so good ma. make us cum." he tells you as your knees got tired and he grabbed you. "you tired baby?" he asked whispering in your ear.

"mmm mhm." you whimpered out and he nodded. eren turned around so you both were lying the length of the couch. he planted his feet fucking up into you. "ren!" you yelled feeling him roughly fuck into you. it was extremely loud the sound of your bodies colliding and your yelling out from eren's rough thrust was enough for the two of you to get noise complaints.

"you close baby? i'm close." he rambled loving the feeling of your walls clenching and unclenching around him. "play with your clit." he demanded. you listened not in the mood to defy him. you rubbed your clit vigorously watching eren bite his lips as sweat ran down his forehead. his hair stuck to his forehead and his broad shoulders tensed as he fucked up into you with immense force.

"m'cumming ren." you moaned loudly and he grunted.

"me too cum with me ma." he said as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you whimpered out in pleasure. "fuck i love you shit," he said and your eyes widened as his warm cum filled you up. his dick twitching and pulsing as his seed painted your insides white.

"y... you love me?" you asked still sitting on his cock as your mixed fluids dripped down his dick and his balls. your body automatically grinding into his at the feeling of being full.

"of course i do i've told you that so many times," he said giving you a confused look and you shook your head.

"no that was as friends i mean do you love me like a lover?" you asked and he smiled at your explanation.

"i never meant it as a friend," he said and you pouted at his statement and you nodded in satisfaction.

"then i love you too rennie."

[siri-ike]

Clone Danny long post

The footprints lead Alfred out of the room and to the right but quickly dried up on the short hair carpet.

Alfred checked every room to the right of Danny's. He had to have left the family wing. 40 minutes of searching later, Alfred was about to go down yet another hallway when he heard faint music and metal clanging. He walked closer to the sound until he could make out some words.

🎶I- can hear the sound of violins🎶

🎶long before- it begins🎶

The gym. Someone is at the gym. He told Dick to relax. This is the opposite of relaxing. He stops for a moment outside the door to gather himself. People listen to empathy more than anger. When Alfred pushed the door open and looked down at the workout area, he didn't see a disobedient clown. No. Instead, he was forcibly dragged back to 1989, staring at a 13 year old Bruce doing chest presses. He always looked the most at ease when he was at the gym. The rest of the time, he would be looking for his parents' killer or discovering seacret organizations. Alfred used to cherish the time Bruce spent at the gym because he knew it was the closest he could get to calm. Shortly, Danny put down his 3 kg weights and addressed Alfred.

"Morning, Alfred. Breakfast already? Thought I had more time." He sounded like Bruce, more than just his voice. Danny had his own way of talking, but this was all Bruce.

"Young Master," best not to object to his perceived reality, whatever that may be. "It's almost seven in the afternoon, not morning." The sun would have spoiled that for him anyway. "And dinner will be ready in two hours."

"Oh, ok. I'll be there at nine then." Danny simply went over to the next station in his routine. Right as he sat down on the floor, something seemed to dawn on him. "Alfred? Did something happen to me?" He asked innocently.

Alfred remained frozen, staring at the young boy. "What would give you that idea?"

"I woke up in a different room than usual, I had to switch down all my weights, and the files in my father's office have been moved. And then you came in looking like you've seen a ghost." Ever the detective.

"Nothing gets past you. I'm afraid you had a rather bad fever and spent a few days in bed. I would like to examine your health, but it can wait. Let's say, eight-thirty? Before dinner?"

"Kitchen at eight-thirty, got it."

Alfred left the room and braced himself on the door. He thinks he's Bruce. He probably thinks it's the 80s or 90s, too. It's a good thing most everyone is out hunting down clues and/or committing extreme acts of violence.

Danny had changed into an all black suit (bowtie and kerchief included) before coming to the kitchen at 8:27. Hmm, he does like to be punctual. His temperature and heart rate were normal, for once he didn't have bags under his eyes, which responded in time to light. But, he was definitely younger than he was when he arrived. Dick wasn't imagining that.

"Can you tell me your name, age, and today's date?"

"Bruce Thomas Wayne, 12, almost 13, today is November, uh," He struggled a bit. "17th? Maybe a bit later, 1988." He avoided eye contact. "Just so we're clear, I wouldn't have known today's date even if I hadn't been sick."

Alfred smiled a little, remembering how much he used to care about getting good scores on everything. "I'll be sure to include that in the report." He retorted sarcastically, earning a small grin back. "Now go wash up, dinners almost ready."

As per routine, Alfred started by bringing out the helthiest dishes. They all knew it was a trick to get them to eat vegetables, but no one was ever willing to wait. Danny was so hungry, even the brussel sprouts were appetizing. Now if Alfred could just stop staring at him and actually put the container on the table.

"Alfred?"

"W, what?"

"Are you OK?"

Danny had combed his hair when he'd asked him to wash up. This was Bruce. This was the boy Alfred raised. The one who had fallen asleep in his arms every night for months because he refused to be alone in the dark. The one who used to "forget" to tell Alfred about the handfuls of peanut butter in his pockets, ruining thousand dollars dress pants on six different occasions. The one who wanted to keep street cats knowing full well he was allergic.

"Do you need a day off? Or maybe a week?"

"What? No. I'm alright master Bruce. Just, uhm, glad to see you have your appetite back. That's all." Keep it together now. He set down a steaming glass dish full of baked carrots, sweet potatoes, bell peppers, onions, brussel sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, and mushrooms.

Danny took as big a serving as he could fit (vegetables can only go in the top right on his plate), making sure not to let the butter run too much. The next dish was steamed turnip. Crap. Another vegetable. Can't mix them. Can't put it somewhere else. The only option is to finish the baked vegetables fast.

By the time he finished his quarter of a turnip, six more dishes had already shown up. How many people does Alfred think live here?

At 21:11 Dick walked into the dining room. Dressed in a plain shirt and pants. The two boys looked like they were going to entirely different events.

"Hello." Danny invited. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"This gentleman is detective Richard Grayson." Alfred interjected. "Master Dick, would you care to join us for dinner?"

"Oh, where are my manners? Here, have a seat. There's plenty of food."

The dinner after that was awkward, but nice. It's good to have some company once in a while. Ever since his parents died, it's just been him and Alfred.

He did wake up late in the afternoon, so it shouldn't be such a surprise that he got to stay up and watch his gray ghost VHS tapes way later than his usual bedtime. Only interrupted occasionally by Alfred, making sure he's keeping all that food down. He had to have been really sick. He doesn't even remember throwing up recently.

He must have dosed off at some point because he was awoken abruptly at some horrid hour of the night by an ear pierceing scream. He hurried to its sorce in the family wing where he saw what looked like another Bruce, except this one had white hair and wore a black onesie. He appeared to be melting into a glowing green sludge. Bruce knelt down and grabbed the boy, who stopped screaming. Opting to bury his face in Bruce's chest instead.

Alfred came just as the gruesome scene was over. 4:50 am, same place, same time, every night. Alfred had hoped something had improved when the screaming stopped early. But rather than the typical gorey mess, there was Danny, inconsolable and covered in slime.

"Wh, wh, ah?" Who was that? What was that?? Why was that???

"Master da- Bruce." At lightning speed, Alfred was on his knees and holding Danny. "Come on, you don't have to be here." He tried to lift him up, but Danny resisted.

"...Why do you have the carpet cleaner?" He accused. "Did you know this would happen?"

[love-byers]

boyfriends who defend and reassure each other <3

"Wait, this is Will's fault?!" 1x01

"I'm the only one acting normal here! I'm the only one that cares about Will!" 1x01

"Will could've cast protection last night, but he didn't. He cast fireball. [...] My point is, he could've played it safe, but he didn't. He put himself in danger to help the party." 1x01

"She pointed at him, at his picture. She knew he was missing, I could tell." 1x02

"Maybe it's his ghost, maybe he's haunting us." "It's not his ghost." "And how do you know that?" "I just do." "Then what did they pull out of that water?" "I don't know! All I know is Will is alive. Will is alive!" 1x04

"Hey! Hey! Hey, Troy! Hey, Troy! You…you think this is funny? […] I saw you guys laughing over there. I think that's a real messed up thing to do." 1x04

"Now she's going to let him die in the Upside Down--" "Shut up!" 1x05

"I'm gonna get you home, okay? I'm gonna get you home." 2x02

"Maybe...maybe that's good." "Good?!" "Just think about it, Will. You're like a spy now. A super spy. Spying on the shadow monster. If you know what he's thinking and feeling, maybe that's how we stop him. Maybe all this is happening for a reason." "You really think so?" "Yeah, Yeah I really do." "What if he figures out we're spying on him? What if he spies back?" "He won't." "How do you know?" *grabs his hand* "We won't let him." 2x05

"Closing the gate will kill him." 2x09

"It's a cool campaign it's really cool!" 3x03

"What if you want to join another party?" "Not possible." 3x08

"I don't think Mike is gonna like that you're lying to him. And he doesn't deserve that, and when he finds out he's gonna be mad." 4x02

"Seems like you've made it super clear you're not interested in anything I have to say." "That's just not true." 4x02

"I was being a total jerk to El, I deserved it…" "No. No, you didn't deserve anything." 4x04

"Listen, the truth is, the last year has been weird, you know? I mean, Max, and Lucas, and Dustin, they're great, they're great, it's just...it's Hawkins, it's not the same without you. And I feel like maybe I was worrying too much about El...I don't know, maybe I feel like I lost you or something. Does that make sense?" *nods* "I have no idea what's gonna happen next. But whatever it is, I...I think we should work together. I think it'll be easier if we're—we're a team. Friends. Best friends." "Cool." "Cool." 4x04

"I should've explained myself, because then maybe Eleven would've taken me with her and things would be different, but…" "No-" "I—I didn't know what to say." 4x05

"Sometimes...I think it's just scary to open up like that. To say how you really feel. Especially to people you care about the most. Because...what if they don't like the truth?" *nods*4x05

"Sorry." "No--" "No, it's so stupid given everything that's going on." 4x08

"See how you're leading us here? You're guiding the whole party, inspiring us. That...that's what you do. And see your coat of arms here? It's a heart. I know it's sort of on the nose, but that's what holds this whole party together: heart. And without heart, we'd all fall apart. Even me. Especially me." 4x08

"He's not going to stop, ever. Not until he's taken everything, and everyone. We have to kill him." *grabs his shoulder* "And we will. We will." 4x09

[ineffectualdemon]

Raising my kid (who is autistic) has made me realise as an autistic person that a surprising amount of communication failure in, at least these, autistic people is forgetting that other people are like separate people who don't share a hive mind with you

Some examples:

- not bothering to give verbal signals of what you're doing when others can't see your actions in a conversation: ie nodding when they have their back to you instead of saying yes or saying "coming" instead of "coming right after I shut down the computer" when you're called into another room

- assuming everyone thinks the same way as you do about a particular aspect of life and being repeatedly shocked, over and over in your life, to find that's not the case

- getting frustrated that you have to actually explain your thoughts processes and context of what you're trying to explain when they should just understand

And I do understand that everyone is a separate person living their own unique lives with many different ways of looking at and experiencing the world...

but also what do you mean you don't understand things that I haven't explained!?!? We share a psyche! What do you mean romance isn't a bit!?!

It's like we have a bit of programming that lets us connect to the hive mind but there is no actual hive mind and we're a little bit disgruntled by that

Now there are probably going to be autistic people who disagree but the people I know personally who are autistic understand these moments. I knew I did it but I didn't contextualise it in my issues with communication until I was a parent and had a kid doing the same shit to me

[screamlet]

“I wish you would write a fic where…” Through whatever contrivance, Buck tries to woo Tommy back through trivia. Maybe he gets Tommy’s team in on it, or the emcee/host - but it’s all Tommy-themed questions because Buck is trying to prove he knows him. Does it work? Maybe it’s all surface level and it hurts Tommy as much as he appreciates it. Maybe he revealed more than he thought and Buck was listening, taking it all in. Maybe Tommy decided to participate against him and inadvertently reveals something or accidentally says he loves him or something. If you would like it, I humbly offer whatever you can do with this premise!

heeeeey it took one million years but here's something!!! i love shenanigans, i hope this lives up to them.

bucktommy fix-it, 2k

---

Tommy's not exactly kidnapped.

He's met in the parking lot at Harbor by Hen, Karen, and a couple of big smiles, and then shoved into the backseat of their car and driven off somewhere. 

"You know, it's been my experience that some people text when they want to hang out," Tommy says.

"So you did ignore my voicemails!" Karen yells. "I knew it."

"It's not personal!" Tommy says.

"I'm taking it very personal," Hen replies. "Like hell you're leaving the Christmas card list again." 

"I'll move."

"Not in this housing market."

Tommy groans because it's true. 

And see, that's a little crazy but a little fun, to know that they care enough to abduct him and take him out for the night. It's then not really surprising that Howie's waiting for them at the bar they used to frequent ages ago, when Tommy was still at the 118. 

"I got the cuffs," Howie announces, a pair of very-real looking handcuffs dangling from his fingers.

"Those better not be for me," Tommy says as Karen pulls him out of the car with shocking strength. 

"Don't worry, they're not LAPD property," Hen assures him. "They're Bobby's."

"Please stop making me learn things," Tommy says.

He's already handcuffed. Howie's living-with-a-toddler sleight-of-hand has gotten unreal. 

It's around this time that one shock wears off and another dawns: this is a scheme and Tommy is trapped.

"No no no no, whatever you're doing—"

"Chim, no!"

The bar's tables have been cleared from the center to make two long tables facing each other. Fine, cute, two teams, it's now clear to Tommy that he has to win Evan back or something with trivia. The difference, though, are the two chairs in the center, where Evan is already sitting (and handcuffed). He turns around, almost tipping the chair over except Eddie catches him. 

"Fine, whatever," Tommy says as he's sat in the chair next to Evan. To make things better/worse (because Evan's so fucking squirmy), their chairs are put back to back so they can be tied together, too. "Oh, we're going full Last Crusade, are we, Howie?" Tommy has to grunt because Athena ties a really, really good knot and again: he wishes he knew less. 

"If you had answered your phone," Bobby says coolly. "If you had bubbled less and texted more—"

Tommy whips his head around and smashes his skull right into Evan's. "Goddamn—you saw that? Why didn't you text, if you were just sitting there watching me type?"

Evan struggles against everything keeping them together, then finally says, "Because you left and you didn't want me! If you wanted me, you would have called! And now we're—" One more hard thrash that gets Tommy in the shoulder. "Kidnapped and this is your fault."

"It's my fault? You wanted me to give up—"

"No I didn't! I said something dumb and you walked out before—"

"No, no, no, we can talk later," Eddie says. "It's time for Buckley-Kinard Feud."

Tommy and Evan turn their heads at the same time. "The hell are you talking about?" Tommy asks. 

"It's time to draft your teams," Hen announces. "I'm hosting, so I'm removing myself from the pool."

"This isn't fair! It's Buck's family—"

"You didn't just call me that in front of everyone," Evan hisses. 

"It's Buck's family against me, I don't have anyone—"

"I'm drafting myself," Howie announces. "Buck, your turn."

"Fine, I pick Maddie," Evan replies.

"Don't sound too thrilled," she replies. 

"Your next pick?" Hen asks Tommy.

"I told you, I don't—"

Bobby comes over to his side.

"You're insane," Tommy says. 

"That's not fair!" Evan yells.

"I met him first, Buck," Bobby says placidly. 

"Yeah, but—ugh, fine, then I pick Athena." Evan turns his head and bumps into Tommy's again. "You better not pick Eddie."

"I'm picking Karen," Tommy says. "She's my friend who's a lesbian—"

He can feel Evan tense against his back, probably out of frustration and a deep, deep desire to slam his skull into Tommy's again. He doesn't know how Evan resists.

"I've been bisexual for like, nine months, could you cut me some slack?" Evan asks.

"You spent an entire afternoon reading me articles and watching videos about the three-body problem and you couldn't fucking bother—"

"Because then I'd know," Evan yells. "I'd know that you and me were too good to be true, and I'd know that it was just temporary, and I'd know that you can't live your whole life one way and suddenly a guy kisses you and everything, everything is different, and your life's completely changed! I'd find something that would tell me it can't happen, it's probably not real, and then I'd realize I was wasting your time because I can never really change. If I looked at us too hard, I'd know it was just—"

Tommy's so overwhelmed, his chest so tight, that all he can manage to say is: "Yeah, it's called biphobia, and if you had asked, I don't know, one of the three gay people in your life—"

"I didn't know what to ask, Tommy! Fuck!" Evan tries to struggle out of their bindings again, but then he stops. "Apologize to me for being such a dick about this." 

The room is tense and quiet, eerily quiet, until Tommy finally says, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? You're right and I'll stop throwing that at you. It's really unfair. It's unfair of me and unfair of, I don't know, the whole world, that made you think this could never be for you."

"That you could be it for me," Evan corrects.

"Sure, whatever." Tommy's voice is nowhere near as light and bitchy as he meant that to sound. "So are we gonna play this game or what? Now that we've got some teams of dubious quality?"

Bobby takes a seat at what is now, apparently, the Team Tommy table. "I know you like fresh pasta because then you can have soft pasta and no one will call you a heretic for not liking it al dente." 

"That's psychotic," Tommy says. "And no one cooks it true al dente, it's always just barely cooked and I shouldn't have to chomp on pasta like a horse to enjoy it!"

Evan says, "And all of you said I was the weird one and he was the normal one."

"Literally no one said that, Buck," Eddie says. "You're both absurd, that's why you're perfect for each other."

"Well," Evan says, "I know you were thinking it."

"You were thinking it, and sometimes thoughts have to make it out of your mouth for people to hear them," Tommy snaps.

The entire room bursts into an uproar and Tommy tries to struggle out of his chair again. "Fine, fine, I'm a huge hypocrite, can I get a point for admitting it!" 

"Yes, just one," Hen says. "Alright, gather up, teams. Bobby and Maddie, you're up first."

"This is a nightmare, this is a nightmare," Tommy whispers to himself. "I crashed my helicopter and this is hell."

"Hey, Mr. Keeping Your Thoughts Inside, we can't hear the question," Howie says.

"You're on my team, you have to be nice to me!"

Howie dramatically pops his piece of gum and says nothing.

"This first question is in the category of fashion," Hen reads off her phone. The TV over the bar has turned on to show a Family Feud style board with four options and Tommy can't believe his vision of hell is this detailed. It's impressive. "Name one novelty apron belonging to either Buck or Tommy."

Bobby slams his hand on the buzzer that someone brought for the occasion. "Tommy has one that says Warning: Fowl Language and it has a rooster on it." Bobby points at Tommy and says, "Sal gave it to you for your fake birthday, which is June 13, but your real birthday is in November."

The room is quiet again.

"You had a fake birthday?" Evan asks.

Tommy looks up at the ceiling. This means that he and Evan's heads are touching and he can't help but lean into it a little. He doesn't go any further, though. "Did I mention I'm like… that there's a lot of things wrong with me?"

"Yeah, these are really struggling to stay in the quirks category," Karen says. "But hell yes, one point! Let's go, Bobby!"

Bobby rejoins the team and Hen strolls down to their side of the room. "Now, Karen: can you name another apron that Tommy owns?"

Karen winces. "Okay, this can be any apron?"

"Any apron," Hen agrees.

"Alright, then I'm gonna say… a plain, utilitarian grey apron that he wears because he doesn't want to use the nice ones." 

Hen says, "Show me boring!"

The word charcoal appears on the board with a (2) next to it.

"Two charcoal ones?" Maddie asks. "Tommy, love yourself."

"Yeah, I think that's the point here and I hate it," Tommy replies.

"Alright, Chim," Hen says. "Name another apron in Tommy's kitchen."

"I think we all saw Buck's lockscreen this summer," Howie says. "Tommy in a sleeveless shirt with a black apron that said Flippin' Awesome and had two spatulas crossed on the front."

"Show me spatulas!" Hen calls out. Another point. 

"Cheap shot," Tommy says. "Evan gave me that, of course you knew that."

"Hey, genius, how do you think people learn things about each other?" Howie asks. "Hen, take it away." 

"Alright, Team Buck," Hen says, wandering over to Maddie. "Name an apron you can find in Buck's kitchen." She turns her head and says, "And don't think we didn't notice he's Evan again."

Tommy turns his head away and whispers to Evan, "Can you make them stop? Please?"

"Sorry, do you think I wanted to be tied and handcuffed to you tonight?" A beat. "Okay, that's not—whatever, I'm suffering here, too."

"Are you?"

Evan huffs. "I'm tired of chasing after people who don't want me, and you don't want me." 

Tommy stays quiet as Team Buck racks up bonus points for Evan's punny apron collection. 

"I thought you'd call or text, or come over," Evan says, voice quieter. "You said, no matter how bad I want to be, so I thought… I don't know. I waited, Tommy. That didn't feel like the end. And you never answered my voicemails, so."

"I haven't checked my voicemail in five months," Tommy admits. "I saw you left a couple the week after and I just—I couldn't. I knew I'd—I'd press play and before you'd even said Hey I would be in my truck on my way to you."

"And would that have been so bad?"

Tommy drops his head down. "I wanted a clean break so we could both walk away." 

"Tommy," Evan whispers. "No matter how bad you want that to be true… it's not."

Tommy nods to himself. "I'm sorry."

"I should have come after you," Evan says. "I should have broken down your door or, I don't know, hung onto your helicopter like Captain America."

"Yeah, good luck," Tommy laughs. 

Between them, Evan's fingertips reach for Tommy's. They cling the best they can, and Tommy—he clings back. 

"Do you mean it or do you just want to get away from everyone?" Evan asks.

"Well, apparently I can't get away from them." Evan laughs dryly, so Tommy clutches his fingers again. "I mean it. Both of those things. If they take the cuffs off, I won't run. Will you?"

Evan laughs. "Only if you'll follow."

"Then we should make a break for it."

"You got it."

[antifainternational]

This month, we're launching the Anti-Fascist Action Of The Month Challenge, where we call on you to take an anti-fascist action! February's challenge: Show Them Where You Stand! Wear an anti-fascist pin, patch, shirt, or hat. Put up an anti-fascist poster or sign. Fly an anti-fascist flag. Do something to show people that you oppose fascism and stand with the people targeted by fascists.

This action may seem small and insignificant, but it does three important things:

It tells fascists and far-right goons that there is opposition in the area, which may be enough to make them think twice about taking action in your community.

It also lets the people in your community who are targets of fascist abuse and violence that they have allies and supporters nearby who will back them up if they need help.

It encourages other people who feel the same way you do to be open, public, and vocal about their opposition to bigotry and fascism.

But Is It Safe? We don’t know you or where you live, so we’re going to trust you to do what you feel comfortable with here. That said, we asked the member of our own collective who is most frequently out around town wearing antifa shirts or hoodies about his experience. Here’s what he said: ”I’m a uhhh how shall I put this? A larger and more substantial looking individual. I’m also white cis/het. It’s not uncommon for people to mistake me for a cop! So it’s possible that my experience wearing antifa gear has been different because people are less likely to try to mess with me. That said, after wearing antifa shirts, hoodies, pins and the like everywhere, I have to say that the number of people/strangers who’ve reacted very positively outnumbers the negative reactions I’ve seen by 10 to 1! I can only think about two or three times I’ve had a negative reaction, and those times it amounted to nothing more than staring at me disapprovingly.”

OK, So Where Do I Get Antifascist Stuff?

You could make your own stuff! If you’re looking for ideas, check out our photo archive for some inspiration!

If you’re less crafty, you might want to buy some antifascist stuff to display. Best place to get stuff is from a group doing antifascist work and selling stuff to fund their work. You’ll find a list of some of those groups here. Our collective have been selling anti-fascist shirts and hoodies and donating the proceeds directly to specific antifascist groups and causes for a few years now - you’ll find our online shop here. The next best place to get stuff is from businesses run by antifascists and/or support antifascist groups to one extent or another. We have some examples of places worth checking out here. The one kind of place we would not recommend buying antifa gear from is for-profit operations that aren’t contributing back to the movement. These compete directly with anti-fascist groups trying to fundraise but pocket all the money they collect. If you’re unsure where the money is going, ask the place you’re considering buying from and then verify with the group(s) they say they donate proceeds to (if they say that they do).

Send Us Photos!

We’d love to see how you took on this month’s antifa action - if you feel safe doing so, please feel free to send us some photos (we don’t need to see your lovely face or other identifying features if you’re shy/security conscious)! Let us know if it’s OK for us to share the photos or if you want us to keep ‘em to ourselves.

What If I Don’t Like This Antifa Action Of The Month? No problem - feel free to skip ahead and choose one of the other 29 actions we came up with! Or go with one of the 40 actions from 40 Ways To Fight Fascists. Or go completely off-book and come up with your own action!

[xx-emowarz-xx]

Yeah obviously.

But also I have a couple of things to add. You probably didn't mean it this way but I want to make sure we're not putting black employees and punk employees into two separate boxes with no overlap because black people have made a lot of really important contributions to goth punk and emo subcultures which often gets erased. This post is as much about weird black people's right to get body mods as it is about white people's.

The second thing I want to say is that the idea of "professionalism" is based on restrictive conservative WASP cultural norms. This post was made through the lense of emo stuff because I'm moving though the world as a white scene trans person and my own job search is difficult right now and it occured to me that the reason you don't see a lot of older goths is because they probably experienced what I'm experiencing right now and decided to pack it in, and I made it on my sideblog where I post about bands. The post has an angle it's not a generalized statement about workplace discrimination. That being said the reason that people who look like I do get told to clean their act up before they can get hired is because of cultural norms rooted in racism. Tattoos were unacceptable in professional culture before there was punk music, and a lot of indigenous cultures use tattoos in their cultural traditions. Piercings were unacceptable in professional culture before there was punk music, and a lot of African and South Asian cultures have facial piercings normalized or expected in their cultural wear (I don't know the significance I just know I've never met a Punjabi woman without a nose ring). I don't really think I need to get into hair, but saying no weird hair (read no hair unacceptable to the wasp monocultures, be it because it's actually weird or just from a different culture) is one of the primary work arounds racists use to deny jobs opportunities to black people now that racial discrimination is technically on the books illegal. Obviously people with Ta Moko and dreads are gonna suffer under these sorts of workplace dress codes than a white guy with a throat tattoo and pink hair. That said neither of those people are getting hired at a workplace that demands a tattoo free body and a professional haircut and both of them deserve to be able to pay for food and shelter without having to change the way they look to please the sensibilities of the white cisheteropatriarchy and they should probably (hint to white punks here to maybe work a bit harder at being allies to poc) band together to demand bodily autonomy and an end to restrictive work place policies rooted in white cisheteropatriarchy.

People don't actually grow out of their emo phases. People are forced out of their emo phases by employers who get a raging boner over controlling how their employees dress, cut their hair, whether they mod their bodies and so on

[doyoulikethis-videogame-song]

Ask Masterpost 2/1/2024

Fourth edition! I changed some formatting things for better readability.

Summary:

Permissibility of creator-leaked/teased soundtracks (Not allowed)

Proposal of demographics poll

Permissibility of Simlish covers (Allowed)

What franchise has the most polls?

Permissibility of remixes of licensed music (Allowed)

Inquiry about duplicate submissions

Permissibility of pinball soundtracks (Not Allowed) and Inquiry about ports of older games

Permissibility of unused tracks in the game files (Allowed)

Permissibility of roblox game tracks (Allowed)

Highest "I like & I know it" song?

Inquiry about revealing the composer before the reveal

Proposal of demographics poll

"Can we submit 'leaked' soundtracks from games if the creator leaked/teased them?"

I'm going to say no, because there's a broad spectrum of scenarios that could happen in between the 'leak' and the official launch of the song that would technically make the 'leak' not indicative of the final product and of course you don't know that until the final product is released :').

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@pomrania asked:

Is there any chance we could get a poll on what people mean when they vote for that they like a song, or that it sounds familiar? For me, "I like this song" means "I'd want to listen to it again once it's revealed", and "it sounds familiar" generally means "I'm not sure whether I've heard it before but I might have" also sometimes it's "I know I haven't heard this SPECIFIC song before, but I recognize the motifs in it".

Or if that's not something you'd want to make a poll for, then I'd still be interested in seeing what people say for how they vote on things, like in the comments.

I think this would be super interesting to do for a special event or something like that! I've been curious about demographics and other general statistics for a while now. I'm actually starting to have quite a good rhythm with managing the blog now so I may begin implementing the fun side ideas I've had sometime soon (or at least, I hope so, this semester is looking rough LOL)

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Can we submit simlish versions of popular songs, like simlish Katy Perry?

They're remixes for a game so absolutely! I think we already have some in the submissions queue.

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Which franchise/game has the most polls?

It's probably destiny (forlorn, distant stare).

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@haellen-o asked:

Is licensed music created/remixed for video games allowed?

(examples being the version of rob zombies dragula in the original jet set radio. And ludens by bring my the horizon)

It's an official remix for the game's soundtrack, so absolutely :).

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Out of curiosity, how often do you get duplicate requests from different people (or maybe the same person, worried you never got their first response, lol)? I think you've said you have around 7,000 requests, is that after removing duplicates or before?

We honestly have a lot of duplicate requests for popular games, and we've been shaving down the duplicates as we go along and queue new submissions. I think we've cut down AROUND ~1000 duplicates so far (we're not done!) and these are mostly very popular (at least on tumblr) games such as disco elysium, sonic series games, in stars and time, final fantasy, pokemon, tf2, mass effect, hollow knight, legend of zelda, just off the top of my head. The 7000 number was from before removing duplicates.

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for older games where the music is ported to different consoles, would the soundtracks be considered separate if the soundfonts impact them enough, or do they have to be very, VERY different? Like if a game was released on pc vs a 32x port.

Also, if a pinball cabinet includes a soundtrack, is that considered a video game soundtrack?

I would honestly just submit your PREFERRED version (if the soundfonts did differ), and I would put BOTH versions into the reveal, since I don't think this is a common enough occurrence to be significantly obnoxious/unfair for whatever reason. As for the pinball question, last masterpost answered overwhelmingly 'no', so I'm going to say no as well :').

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Are unused vgms allowed for submission? So in the files but never added to the game itself.

If you can credit the creator of the tracks then yes! (provided they're in the files in the final publicly released version and not from a demo/waiting for a future update to be implemented in a live service game/etc)

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are roblox games allowed?

Yes, if you can credit the creator of the tracks and they were made for that roblox game :).

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what song had the highest "I like it and I've definitely heard it before" percent?

I think it is still #100, which was Megalovania from Undertale (85.20%) Correction: It's Death By Glamour, #460, at 87% :)

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@enderlordisadumbusername asked:

are we allowed to mention song composers before the song has been revealed?

Absolutely!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And please do!!!!!! (This will literally only give away the game if you were already familiar enough to know the composer, so it's actually very perfect)

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Would you or have you ever run a poll to gauge how much of a song your followers listen to before voting?

Definitely considering it after learning a lot of people don't listen to the full song or even at least the first minute...

[corpocyborg]

outie mark is about to get the shock of his life because he still doesn't realize that innie mark is a whole person on his own. i don't think o!mark sees i!mark as a tool the way helena sees helly, but i do think he sees him as himself. so he's going to be shocked and distressed to find out how untrue that is in so many ways.

and as for i!mark... the way this is the best possible scenario for him and it's still a sort of death. "we're people, not parts of people" except now he really is a part of a person.

he'll be there but o!mark will be there too. overriding i!mark's preferences in cases where his happen to be more dominant. worst case scenario this will create horrible cognitive dissonance and lead to insanity and then death. best case scenario it'll be so seamless that he won't be able to believe that he ever used to want anything different.

cobel was 100% right. severed employees really did create hell for themselves.

[gatheringbones]

You seem like the kind of person to be delightfully honest about my problem, and the fact that you are already in a successful relationship encourages me; as long as i can remember, i have been trying to make friends and connections but i always fail. If i may refrence a half remembered quote from a book i think you posted, i think it's like they can smell the desperation off me, and the fact that a "normal" "well adjusted" person wouldn't go to bat for them that quickly, like they can see the abandoned autistic kid crawling out my skin. One would think that once i found queer people the problem would be solved, but even then they were the 'cool' party kids having exciting autonomous adventures, so my inability to do so struck even nore of a loser nerve, i think. I thought that this last semester i finally found the person that was as interested in the relationship as me (constant, daily conversations for *months*), but they unexpectedly blocked me and vagued about how I was annoying and that they just used my passion for certain things to start drama. Plus, they had other, year long friends so i shouldn't have expected differently... How can I get over being ignored even by other "freaks", even if we're supposed to stick together or something?

that dream of the discerning/accepting/loving family of lovers and dreamers is a double edged sword. it has existed before, it will exist again, it exists even now— but like all deep trickster magic it’s elusive and multidimensional and not encountering it when you expect and long for it hurts very badly, as you’ve experienced.

you’re in the period of bashing against the jagged rocks while you realize that there isn’t actually a sacred pact based on mutual self interest and adoration between all mad queer persons. that’s part of the magic and it’s one of the only ways you gain access to the higher and deeper spells. your shame and heartbreak and disappointment are context for what comes next.

only truly loving and brave and rare human beings will regard and handle you in the manner you wish to be handled and regarded. being that loving and brave in a world like this crushes and rends and tears a person; they accrue so much damage just for behaving decently and maintaining hold of their compassion and discernment in a world that wants nothing more than to cauterize it out of them, just as it wishes to cauterize the dream of true love and solidarity out of you.

If you study everything you can get your hands on about love and respect and how to care for and nurture other people, you’ll hone some of the skills you will need to recognize these very rare persons in the wild. If you are unbelievably lucky, you may be able to comport yourself in such a way that you earn their regard and trust. More dashing against the jagged rocks will ensue. It will hurt worse than anything you can imagine. You will be reliant on miracles and the whims of a capricious universe.

Have fun, be brave! The way out is deeper into the horror story.

[gnohomotho-blog]

Just a game (part 2) 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

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Pairing: Hwang In-ho / The Frontman x fem!reader

Summary: We're getting there, folks. (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞ ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜) Mostly fluff, need, imagination, fantasy, slow burn. Focus on the f!reader, because you deserve nice things. She's home, receiving odd gifts, some sweet, some...quite the not sweet, the game and plot and trouser legs thicken (I'm so sorry, it's literally 2 a.m. here). In-ho definitely isn't obsessing over you, hatching elaborate plans, thinking of you so hard he'll break another turtleneck. Not saying the f!reader has any specific issues, but if you recognize any, I hope to be nothing but respectful. ♥ Oh, and we have a dream sequence, Freud would be proud.

(This was mainly meant as a "put your feet up and be cozy, read about yourself and feel good" read, the action will come later. Among other things. I'm so sorry, my thesis is driving me mad.)

Warnings: It's the god damn Front Man The usual Squid Game warnings, mdni, stalking, spying, voyeurism, touching, self-touching, sexual themes, sexual almost-intercourse, descriptions of anatomy and body parts, blood, yearning, some terrible references and Slavic folklore. Privacy? In my fic? It's less likely than you think.

Word count: 4.2k

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A cup of tea. A cup. You were watching the cup. Steam rises from it and folds into nothing. Your stomach is churning. Is it stress? You ponder. Seeing the liquid close in on itself as you stir it. Again and again.

"It'll get cold." You say, to no one. You try to breathe. Heart pounding. Head a bit spinny. You look around your room. Dimly lit, warm orange light from a salt lamp. You check your blinds - still closed, still safe. Noise from other people you try to filter out. Why do you jump at every single sound? Why does white noise blaring its head off make for the only atmosphere you can stand? You wonder. You get up. The world spins. The phone lies on your bed. As it has for the last three hours. Unchecked. Your sound is off. It always is. You turned off everything this time. It's just black. You try to think, ground yourself, poems float through your pounding head. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the tall mirrors of your wardrobe. An oddly shaped form stares back at you.

"Jesus Christ…I look…like shit." The mirrored lips curl around your words - but it might as well have been a stranger speaking back at you. You don't recognize yourself, and what you do, you dislike. Like a funhouse mirror. Without the fun. Your long hair falls across your shoulders, curling towards the ends. Your exposed skin is cold and giving a nice exposé of every vein under your neck, driving rivers of blue across your collarbones, your shoulders, your chest. You won't look further. They seem to be drawn to your middle, pooling across your skin. People often referred to you as pale, no matter your actual skin tone. When things got a tad too heavy, you became transparent. It was calming, sometimes. Calming that so much was trying to keep you alive to the point of exhausting itself and sending highways of signals through every vein to keep at it. Your head spins again. More poems. Try to drink the tea.

"Light your candle, one, two, there's a moth…" You know the rest. But the lips fail to speak. You pick up the phone. And almost knock over your tea. Then proceed to fight an urge to fling it into a wall and watch the stains roll down like fresh blood.

Seventeen missed calls from a blocked number - your now ex-companion. A worried message from your friend, no doubt spurred by said ex-companion with an entirely different story to reality. Frowning, you adjust your dressing gown and tie it down to hold everything in and hold you together.

"Hey, Y/N…I know you probably don't want to talk, but I'm sorry things went so badly. I'm here."

You hate yourself a little more. Clara has always been a darling, you…cared for her. A lot. You wish to say "loved", you squint your eyes and wish to say you love her. People are kind. People are always so very kind. And you can't drink a cup of tea. Nor reply. There's also an email. From a set of numbers, no name. You open it, against your better judgement. No subject, only a photograph. Of your door. Your door inside your flat. Which is locked. You didn't ring anyone in. You, of all people, didn't hear any steps on the stairs. You live at the very top floor. And still?! What is wrong with you lately, now of all times?

And still, there is a photograph of your door. With…things? Your shoes were gently placed beside your mat.

"Um…" You knock on your housemate's door - how grateful you are for the economic situation which doesn't permit you to live alone now, you think bitterly as his steps approach.

"Oh, Y/N, how are you? What can I do you for?" Ever the cheerful voice and visage stands before you, half dressed, always flooded with work and hobbies. The room behind him is full of papers and candles, manuals and scripts, and information that probably shouldn't be lying around covered in bird photography snaps. It calms you a tad. You breathe out and uncross your arms. In the back of your mind, you wonder what he's always so entranced with.

"I'm getting there, thank you, Lubo." Your chest falls a tad, you really do feel a bit better, but very on edge. You fidget with your fingers as you speak. "Would it be alright to ask if you could open the main door with me? Something is there and I've been listening to too many IRA anthems to trust it." Because making a joke out of a very serious situation never failed you yet.

"Sure!"

You notice one of the birds on the ground behind him. Gazing at one photograph a little longer, you smile at the birdie and its soft grey feathers, little black dash across its little eyes...you realise you're looking at a shrike. The universe really is sending her best.

════════════════════════════════════════════

You open the door as Lubo endeavours to rummage through the things on your doorstep. It seems to be a very neatly wrapped black box with a pink bow. With a little token of a crow embossed on its side. Heavy, by the looks of it. You half expect your ex-companion's limbs to be soaking its insides.

"I'll take it indoors and disinfect it, ok? Just so it doesn't feel like you've contaminated the flat." You nod, thank him over and over, and feel very grateful for him remembering your slight fights with obsessive cleanliness and parasites. But this looks…clean. You take a knife from your room, the knife that's been under your pillow for good reason. Kneeling, you gently unwrap the box altogether and distance yourself from the thing for a little bit. Breathe. It's just a box. Those never go wrong.

It's…full of…gifts?

Your…favourite flowers, perfectly preserved. No one knows your favourite flowers that well. Under them, resting under jewels of crimson poppies, lies a book of poems, the ones you use to calm yourself down; the ones that make you feel less alone. In the correct languge, even. Next to the poppies, hot water bottles, wrapped, fluffy, still warm. Under them yet, medication you couldn't get from your doctor for the entire month due to disagreements and never being heard, half of them aren't even sold in the country. Bath salts, dark chocolate, tea…there seems to be so much. Your face is caught in a mixture of attempting to frown, being swept off your feet, and deeply uncomfortable with what is basically an encyclopedia of you in a box. You carefully lay the items to the side and begin to notice things you truly need your housemate to not see. You lose your breath for a moment and blush so hard you almost forget both the kindness and terror of the rest of the package. It seems to be divided into care for you and…some other forms of urges. As if. As fucking if.

"Google, remind me to photograph this tomorrow in good light," you say to nothing, "to use as evidence either after this person manages to kill me or before, if the courts move faster than an asthmatic ant with heavy shopping."

Against your better judgement, you carry the box to your room and watch it for a while, as you do other things, but can never quite relax. Surely he can't be serious. Your name isn't Shirley.

There was also a note you now keep flinging on your table and crunching in your hands, neatly written, with no name.

"Dear Y/N,

should you wish to meet someone qualified to help with the attached records, it has been arranged. Be at the coordinates listed between the red and white gift and you will be taken care of. No harm will come to you. You are safe. As right as rain."

Right as rain…that's a part of a poem, that absolute…dear God, fuck, the thoughts in your head are tumbling down at you and you collapse onto the bed, staring at your knees. It's a good thing he somehow didn't include your most loved flowers, since they're all poisonous. One of them you like specifically because it is elegant, sharp, snowy, and beautiful - and all of her body, leaves, and seed pouches scream "don't fucking touch me, if you do, you will die and wish for death the entire time you are doing so". You would very much like to be the flower now. Make someone else hallucinate.

You search the box again and find the beautiful gown, in red, and the gentle white lace undergarments - as kind and gentle and revealing as they are elegant. A little QR code is nestled between the lace.

"Nope. Nope nope NOPE. Absolutely not," you say out loud. Fighting the fact that the nightgown under the two other garments is cozy and light and so very beautiful. And it smells…oddly familiar. With a hint of something else. As if someone knew you loved scents of sweetness, vanilla, caramel, honey, and skin combined with darker, heavier tones that don't usually mix with feminine perfumes. Something lovely and gentle to draw you in, with something far more potent, enveloping, and enthralling to drag you down the lake to drown. And yet. Still. Something else. Something more. You decide to put on the gown and stare into a little crow's eyes. Such a pretty little statue, you don't even remember where you got it from.

"I'm going to be alright. Water is fine. This is just water. We've been here, we've been in the mud up to our noses." You are whispering to yourself, trying to sooth your mind. Metaphores, poems, sooth sooth sooth. You close your eyes, think of beautiful women, barefoot, in the dark of a forest. Glistening lights in their long hair, lights in their gorgeous eyes. Light on their feet, as they dance upon the water and through the marsh. You cannot drown a forest spirit of a woman scorned. They will mesmerize you, dance you, dance you to the end of your love and tether, and pull you into the depths. Then kiss you as you gasp for air.

You undress, eyes still closed, holding the long white gown. You slowly slide into the fabric, which clings to your skin as a lover's touch at the first sign of morning light. Still trying to be as unbothered and confident as a forest Rusalka. You aren't. But the gown smells nice. And it's quite light. Long sleeves, fabric that reveals but doesn't scream. Lace around your chest and stomach, falling down your hips and thighs.

…Kiss you as you gasp for air.

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In-ho was pleased with his gift. Not only the gift, but the message. Upon message. Upon message. He wondered, quite hopeful - yet reserved - if you understood them all. No matter.

You will. Oh, you will. Every word. Even if he has to cling them to your skin, one by one, with his own lips.

To the surprise of absolutely no one except you, perhaps, the small bird brought him all the feedback he could desire. Rather low quality feedback, he thought, as he watched you ponder, watched you crunch up the note, and watched you dress. Instinctively, he looked away as you began to slide your own clothes down. He glimpsed perhaps a strap, perhaps more skin than he first saw…light reflecting off you, sliding down, further down, caressing your tenderness…yet he looked away, calmly resolute to not look back. His gaze remained firmly in the corner of the room, he certainly wasn't fighting - or imagining himself being the photons of light resting on your supple skin. No. It would be unbecoming to watch a lady undress, so vulnerable, so unknowing. Never mind the rest. If you looked up the word "hypocrite" in the dictionary, In-ho's face wouldn't be next to it. It would be on the next page, because he would never be caught. As he looked back, you were dressed, not looking at yourself.

In-ho frowns for a moment, before he sees the rest of you. Even though it's just a phone screen and the picture quality truly isn't doing you justice, his breath is caught. He shifts and looks around instinctively, only a flicker of the eyes and a small movement of the neck. But he's nervous, nervous to be so exposed. He chuckles to himself just as unnoticeably - he's spying on you yet he's the one feeling exposed..was the chuckle to ease tension? This is just a game to him and you are nothing, after all. No one. He shifts once more and uncrosses his legs, one hand slowly combing his hair firmly away from of his forehead. Nothing. Just as it is nothing that is making the jacket around his neck feel tight. He sees you stand, further away now. He sees your entirety in the white flowing fabric, the lace, the…entirety…of you. His coat needs to come off, and is discarded to the side in haste. The remaining turtleneck isn't much help, but he goes in, now fully enthralled. Positioning himself, he endeavours to enjoy you. Slowly. From the tip of your head to the soles of your feet, remaining fully in control, admiring, never taking, never grabbing. Never…needing. But as he moves down your face, your cheeks, your chin, along your neck all the way to your hair resting on your now exposed shoulders, back to your mouth and lips - he leans into the screen - those supple yet reserved, tender lips whispering gently and curling around words as if speaking to a sleeping lover in the night who is caught in a bad dream, the eyes - damn the picture quality - the eyes that glint, yet resemble dark pools amid features that are…that mean…his heart is fast. His eyes pools of reckless abandon. They flicker to the movement of your hips and tick fast, fast back up top, stopping at the almond curve the nightgown begets your breasts - In-ho's hands twitch as his fingers yearn with a mind of their own, to hear you gasp and squirm and melt under their touch as he teases, cups, and caresses in the gown's place. Tender flowers, waiting to be kissed. As you move, for him, for his eyes only, his mind floods through its inhibitions and begins racing on instinct - yet does so wrapped in cotton; barely subdued. Algorithms, scenarios, plans - ten a second - gather in his mind - resting on nothing but your features, spurred into existence by you, your lips, your form, your movement. He's watching the last flame dance before him in a sea of suffocating darkness, and it is his. Tension grips The Frontman's trousers as he digs his fingers in to feel something, anything, as if to drag himself back, painfully if need be - all this…for a low quality moving picture of you.

You. Your self before him. No adjective does it justice to In-ho, no painter could stroke its surface, nobody could own this moment. Nobody but him. And he cannot reach, reach through the screen, for you, for you mean…you in your entirety, before him, vulnerable, bare, unknowing, both a deity to be worshipped and a form to be devoured and left pleading, barely breathing under him, his grasp, his hot breath, you, you mean…

…nothing to him. In-ho leans back again. He breathes a bit faster, containing himself. As his breath slows and features fall back into place, he straightens the trouser leg and exhales. Your name is on his lips as he does so; he whispers it to himself. A name that doesn't seem to leave his tongue, no matter how many times it wraps around every syllable.

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…you are nothing."

He turns off the screen with one click. "Nothing." He gets up, leaving the phone behind. He is back to his true self - unbothered, cold, empty. A statue of stone. It was fun while it lasted, but the shell he wears gets tired of the falsity imbued in it during these little sidesteps. Little adventures to ease the monotony. Your records lie on the table, next to his glass of dark liquer. He walks over slowly, cradles it, sipping with restraint, and puts it down just as slowly in the exact same place. He goes on with his evening, thinking, it must be said, of nothing. He continues his work, thinking of nothing. Nothing replaces the drabble of his underlings as they update him on the latest games. Nothing is on his mind as he showers, nothing is in the water that glides down his own body. Nothing is in the warmth that he doesn't imagine being replaced nor coming from a different source. The voice of nothing is in the hiss and humm of the shower, nothing sings to him sweetly as it envelops his form. Nothing is woven into his satin sheets, nothing still smells of the perfume he picked for you, nothing is in his bed and pillows and nothing is slowly, invariably, fatally invading his mind. The cologne he uses, the same cologne he rubbed upon certain parts of the gown you now rest in, isn't combining and wildly interweaving with your gentle, warm, sweet, yet heavy scent. Nothing is everywhere and nothing is driving him absolutely stark, staring mad as he lays there - naked, exposed, amid satin sheets, it is nothing that invades his dreams and wraps him in sensations he can still only dream of.

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Barren lands and dusk. No flowers. No life. In-ho is alone. As far as the eye can see lies nothing. He cannot feel his mask. A shape is in front of him, laying there, incredulous. Unfitting its surroundings. As if guided by an unseen hand, he walks up to her slowly and kneels beside her. She is dressed in white fabric, falling across her skin, exposing more than is becoming of such a form. Her hand is resting next to her head, her other at her side. She is peacefully asleep. A gentle humm escapes her lips - she must be dreaming. In-ho glides the back of his hand everso carefully across her cheek, guiding it down her neck and stopping at her collarbones. Her chest lifts in a slow rhythm as her skin touches his. She is his. Is she not? He could...open his hand, and his hand opens. He could place it around her neck, and he does. As he feels her warmth and blood pumping into his hand, he thinks he could squeeze and hold down. He doesn't. The form reacts to his intentions, seemingly, her face frowning in the most unnoticeable way, lips falling from their previous peaceful expression to a worried frown. As if caught in a bad dream.

No, no, no.

In-ho releases the pressure and merely rests his hand on her neck, pushing errant strands of hair away from her skin. They fall around her shoulders and between the fingers of his other hand, which lifts instinctively to cradle her head. Her expression relaxes, and he smiles almost on instinct. Suddenly, her eyes flutter open and gaze into his own, almost unblinking and holding his gaze. The pools of comforting darkness set in an innocent visage drive electrical current through his entire body and In-ho almost has to steady himself against the ground where his hand is holding her head, still. She isn't scared, she only gazes and studies, lays, and rests in his own dark eyes. Her smile mirrors his. As if the two of them were already familiar, already far beyond anything novel. She whispers to him.

"Darling, this isn't your place."

In-ho doesn't think, he knows the voice. The gentle, slow, melodic whisper that he wishes to hear before he goes to sleep himself. Putting more strength into his grip, he places his dominant palm in hers as it still lays beside her head. He squeezes her down. Without thought, his body shifts to move above hers, holding her gaze, now directly on top of her, without touching her body with his. His hands no longer gentle, but firmly holding down. His thumb caresses her cheek as his other hand pushes her palm into the ground.

"It doesn't need to be."

As the sentence barely left his lips, he connects them with her neck, firmly kissing the skin and pulling her into his bite. The taste is intoxicating, and beckons for more. Sweet, tender, pure, intoxicating. Down her neck he plants kisses and barely restrained bites, gliding his touch, gripping her hand and moving his other to her neck once more. He hears gasps and timid moans, and he moves down, lips brushing against her chest and resting upon it. He lets go of her hand and finally grips her, under the small of her back, caressing and squeezing her waist, lifting her body into his. Now he feels her. Now he feels her being react and pressure and squirm, now he feels the pulse of her body directly under his and melting into him. Every movement, every gasp, every beat of her heart - in his control, under him, sinking into him. Her waist lifts against his and he eagerly helps it up, feeling his need against her body, finally, all he needs to do is tear off the gown, take her, make her fully his and hear her cries and moans as he takes what is his. Still in control of himself, he fully recognizes his itch, his need, his voracious hunger. He recognizes it and fully gives into it.

But the dream does not let him.

Something is wrong. The body is colder now, her breathing is slow, her voice no longer caressing him, her being no longer reacting to his touch. The current fizzled out. Pulling away, he sees the damage done - even as her eyes are wistful and her smile still there, it is sorrowful and soft, gazing down at him although broken under him. He sees her neck and chest, her breasts exposed, her skin red with bite marks, red with his signatures. Lines where his grip failed to falter rest on her tender flesh, her pallor a canvas for his need and depravity. For his destruction. He does not want this, he does not want her like this, his mind races and tries to get back in control but cannot. The canvas before him begins to soak through in crimson, blood pools into the white fabric where he lay and pushed and tried to take her. As he watches the gown cling to her stomach with blood, fear drives cold daggers through his back. He is no longer the Front Man, he is himself. Himself before a Front Man ever was. And he is...scared. Still her voice reaches him, doing nothing to alleviate his state, doing nothing to destroy the damn invisible barrier that keeps him from holding her close, holding her together, holding him together.

"Not like this darling, not like this again."

How is she still smiling? How does she seem so cold yet encompassing an utter lack of proximity? Holding her now seems like the most sacriligeous, repugnant thing he could do. His hands shiver lightly, how is he afraid to touch her now? After all that? She is his, his, this is all so incredibly wrong! He doesn't care, he doesn't have feelings for such frivolities, she is a dime a dozen, she is worth nothing, and she is nothing to him; nothing.

And she's still smiling, a little laugh escaping her lips as if she can hear his inner turmoil and has seen it thrice before.

"Taking what you want, never what you need."

In-ho looks down at his own body, which begins to feel cold and wrong. As if missing something vital. He smells copper, his hand feels hot as he touches his chest yet his body grows colder. The last thing he remembers before waking up in a freezing sweat is looking down at his own body, now filled with open chasms wherever it touched hers - gaping empty holes that can be filled with nothing, bleeding him into the ground as she watches on.

In-ho gasps, springs up into a seated position and touches his chest, his stomach - and breathes in relief. As he is composing himself, a new manner of play begins to form in his mind. Between hurried breaths and elevated pulse beats, he plans a new way to play this game and win.

[drdemonprince]

hey,

im a trans woman. ive already gotten a name and gender change court order in my state. i never got my passport updated, though, and im feeling urgency to do that now

but between not-yet-passed state laws that will revert birth certificates, everything going on federally, and thoughts you've posted about giving information to the government

something I've been considering is legally (not socially) detransitioning my gender marker (not my name), so I can have a passport that's valid even if the TSA gets to the point where they see an altered marker and it means no travel

there's a voice that doesn't want to do this, but i think it's the voice that doesn't want me to believe that there's a real threat to my personal security, and it's making it hard to to do a genuinely analytical cost-benefit analysis

do you have any thoughts, please? i know you don't have enough information or the authority to tell me what I, in particular, should do, but any perspective at all you'd like to give?

thanks

We're talking about potentially having a livestream event sometime soon in which we & viewers chat about what decisions they are making to protect their safety and plan for eventualities, so I hope you'll be able to tune in for that, but my short answer would be that it all depends a lot on the particulars of your situation.

Can you get a birth certificate changed in your state? (Even in conservative states, it may be possible! For example, I'm working on getting my birth certificate corrected in Ohio.). If so, you can change that, get your social security card's gender marker changed (which is still really easy), and then potentially get a correct passport.

Do you have a passport already? Have you ever had a passport with your agab on it? These are also important factors. Currently, the trans people who are having the greatest success getting their documents on the federal level are those who have changed their birth certificates, AND who have never gotten a passport with their agab, because it's pretty difficult for the passport office to clock that you are trans if that's all squared away.

Technically you might still be at risk of outing yourself if you have to disclose a name change order, but again, it depends on if your birth certificate is accurate to your current name. If it is, you can probablyyy get away with not disclosing your old name.

Other questions to consider are the typical use cases for when you show your ID. If you travel internationally pretty frequently, you have a completely different set of concerns and risks than someone who mainly shows their ID when they're applying to jobs or going into a bar and don't need it that much in their day-to-day otherwise. You will know your own situation best, and there are no great answers or guarantees of safety in how we navigate this stuff, but some things to consider.

[sassydefendorflower]

I feel horrible to butt in, but I do in fact think there are some addendums to this post.

For one, Margaret Thatcher and other horrible powerful women are not examples of the matriarchy. Or what a potential matriarchy would be like.

Every extremely powerful women, who then used that power to abuse it, did so in a patriarchal structure.

I am not saying that to defend these women. Their choices are their own. Everyone has the same capacity for evil, be it man, woman, queer or not.

I just want to clarify that we legit do not know what a matriarchal power structure would look like. Because from an anthropological standpoint there has never been a large scale matriarchy in the history of humanity (as far as we can tell). There have been some smaller groups and cultures, who have structures we would maybe describe as matriarchal, but none of these cultures are comparable on the large scale of the patriarchy. The power structures in those small groups are often genuinely different, because in praxis what we do know of matriarchal societies is completely different from an imagined reversal of the patriarchy as we know it. But, again, we cannot actually make these comparisons, because the few matriarchal societies that exist are also often very rural, and anti-capitalist. They aren't some strange utopia, they are still humans and there are definitely hierarchies at play, but they are simply not comparable to the large scale of the modern patriarchy as it is inherently intertwined with capitalism, colonialism, racism, and classism.

Again, I am not saying this in any shape or form to relieve any women of guilt or the responsibilities for their actions. There is no such thing as a better sex (hell, we really need to reconsider gender as a whole, if you ask me). But.

The patriarchy is sooooo deeply ingrained in our culture - in most human cultures existing right now and throughout history - that we genuinely don't know what a matriarchy would look like.

Hell, in Cultural Anthropology, if you create a genealogy and it is a matri-linear society, do you know what that means? It means that inheritance moves from the BROTHER of the mother to the BROTHER of the daughter (we are talking the inheritance of goods here). We generally assume that there isn't a single group of people where mothers can pass there belongings directly to their daughters as the main line of genealogical inheritance (and if there are deviations from this they are statistically irrelevant). There is bi-linear inheritance, of course, in which the parents equally pass everything down to their children, but that is a relatively recent development, and still always something that happens within a patriarchal society.

An example of a powerful woman (be it the Chinese Empress Dowager Cixi or Margaret Thatcher or Angela Merkel or... you get the idea) will never be an example of what the matriarchy would be like. Because we're thinking of power structures within the confines of what we know: the patriarchy.

And, yes, people who argue for the simple role reversal of Women in Power and Men At The Bottom, are obviously wrong. But they've also obviously never engaged with the theory. Such steep power structures and rigid hierarchical step-ladders would obviously be bad. But any conceivable matriarchy wouldn't be that. Because from the few we have seen throughout history and even right now... we know you always have to answer the question: what do we do with the babies?

And that is a question not easily or logically answered by a simple role reversal.

(and I don't want to equate womanhood with the ability to give birth - truly not. But, statistically speaking, women are the people birthing the most children, and as such, any society in which women are "in charge" the way we observe power structures within the patriarchy, also has to answer the question of what these "women in charge" will do with the possibility of childbirth.)

I am not arguing for the goodness of women. I am arguing for the admittance that we just genuinely don't know what a matriarchy would be like.

(not that is should be our goal to find out)

The power structures of the patriarchy have been historically so all-encompassing for most of us, that we genuinely cannot divorce even the thought experiment of a matriarchy from it.

And this Not Knowing should be part of the conversation.

just so we're clear, replacing patriarchy with a matriarchy would be just as bad because it's the same exact thing. it's a power structure. it lends to systemic abuse.

equality doesn't mean "one gender is better than the other". equality means all genders are on the same playing field. no one gender is better, or worse, than the rest.

women are not inherently kind. women are not inherently charitable. women do not inherently have other peoples' best interests in mind. women are not inherently gentle and nurturing. women are not inherently smarter or dumber than any other gender. women are people, and that means that women are varied. chasing men of that pedestal and placing women there instead will create the exact same problems.

you can run around saying "women are just better than men" but you're doing the exact same thing that's being done to you right now, and that's not how you collapse the structure. you're just taking the same abusive power structure and painting it pink. enough. equality means we are all on the same level. equality does not mean one gender is superior to the rest. got it?

[yesimwriting]

omg irl (personally) i would get so fed up with armand like... nothing's ever straightforward with you... there he goesss with his ulterior motives.

I love how you describe Louis' worry in the latest chapter, because as anon requested, it is the crashout of all crashouts BUT its so sublty written and kept between the lines (big kudos to you) because Louis is not burning and killing 20% of the vampiric population like he did in paris BUT there are hints/implication present that he absolutely would do something much worse to protect and/or avenge bestie reader.

And it really shows during the part after the phonecall when he's thinking to himself. Him repeating Josh's name like a mantra??? Girl his last victim was in the year 2000 but im sure he's willing make sure josh will never use both of his wrists to operate a car ever again lmao. Also, being an english speaking foreigner, i'm usually able to keep my accent at bay but i know damn well that Nola accent was HEARD through that damn phone. This reminds me of that older brother vibe ask of yours you wrote before. We all know he booked a flight arriving after sunset so he can personally drive and pick her up from the airport. Also stand as close as possible by the arrivals so she doesn't need to carry her luggage with a broken wrist.

His worry over the medication that makes her drowsy??? Omg Louis loves her so much its sickening what the hell. I need to see Daniel catching bestie in 4k, casually snoozing peacefully with Louis bc she feels so safe and i need daniel to snap a picture to blackmail louis with it later. (the 70 year old senior is louis younger brother confirmed by jacob anderson himself lmao)

The one hundred thousand over set price for her painting reference???? So Louis doesn't even know, I wonder where armand is keeping the painting. I also wonder what his intentions are with reader. Like... what are his feelings, is his interest romantic, platonic, sexual or something completely different.

Now bestie reader is so gen z and i know for a fact the people in this generation will see bullshit from miles away. (we've been trained by social media) I love the idea of armand being the manipulative gremlin that he is and reader just seeing straight through it. She's a baddie we know damn well she will CLOCK HIM the second he tries to shift the playing field. And I know he'll like it too. Just look at him and Daniel. (rip non book readers, devils minion will give you whiplash)

SIDE NOTE: i love the moment in the show when armand is retelling his story of the trial in paris and Daniel questioning how tf a five hundred year old ancient did not have the ability to stop his own coven. Daniel's smug face and the deadpan "Or what?". Daniel GO GET HIS ASS.

Daniel and reader would get along so well.

side note nr 2: i apologize for the bomb i just dropped in your inbox.

omg what a fun ask <33

i love armand, but in real life i'd be so over the theatrics of it all 😭 like yes you're playing chess and we're all playing checkers we get it!! no one will think you're less mysterious if you just answer the question omg

thank you for mentioning the louis thing! i'm glad you liked how i set it up bc i wanted his worry/frustration to be apparent but i still wanted it to feel in character. ik he's not opposed to greater crash outs (like the paris thing for my girl claudia ✊) but i also think that even when he's upset he understands time and place to an extent. like claudia's very intentional killers deserve worse than a guy who has done something relatively minor to reader on accident. however, it's still important that he very much would do the same if not worse for bestie reader if something actually bad happened to her, so i'm glad you read it that way!!

the josh thing pls 😭 i almost didn't have bestie reader give the guy a name bc she knew how he'd react. also i think that while louis isn't chill with murder, knowing that it'd be so easy to hurt someone who he thinks deserves it isn't an easily dismissible thought. i don't think he's jumping to hurt/kill everyone that's wronged bestie reader, but i do think it's an intrusive thought. the wrist thing 😭 i can see louis reacting like that if he was right there, but i feel like louis would only plan out violence if someone seriously/intentionally hurt reader.

this is going to sound off topic, but bare with me for a second. i haven't delved into this yet, but friendships can be just as complicated as romantic relationships, and while i'm committed to louis and bestie reader always being completely non-toxic, that doesn't mean their dynamic is simple. a major thing that complicates their relationship is the way that they worry over the way the other perceives them.

bestie is worried that louis perceives her as fragile and therefore fleeting and unworthy of long term attention. she's scared of being seen as a hindrance and as a burden. louis is worried that one day everything will click for bestie reader and she'll realize that he's a monster. so he's doing all he can to not demonstrate violence in front of her.

anyways, all this to say that he's not going around attacking people partially bc of his values but also bc he doesn't want her to associate violence with him.

also, total side note but this dynamic is actually what leads to reader and armand bonding. louis loves her so much and the thought of losing her is so distressing that sometimes he censors himself a little too much or treats reader like she's extremely fragile. armand doesn't. yes, this is because it's easier to risk losing someone that isn't the your emotional support human, but also bc he genuinely thinks she's capable of handling it. he'll tell her every (non-incriminating) vampire story ever in full, gory detail and reader is fascinated.

the accent comment is killing me 😭 ik that nola accent was HEAVY over the phone. reader felt those words in her soul.

and yes he’s AT that airport and he’s happy about it too lol.

also yes louis loves her sm 😭. ofc he was worried about her all alone on drowsy medication. that's the light of his life! what's he supposed to do if something happens to her? go back to only talking to his companion and occasionally a journalist accidentally moonlighting as a divorce lawyer??

also omg daniel and reader interactions are a need!! daniel being described as louis's younger brother is so important to me here omg. i love daniel and louis's relationship sm, and i just know daniel is ready for someone else with common sense to be sitting in. daniel looks at bestie reader like that one meme that's like 'you're the only bitch in the house i ever respected'.

the picture concept is so cute 😭 might have to write that into a scene bc i can see daniel seeing louis and reader asleep and at first being like ? and then taking the picture to bring it up later.

YES THE PAINTING REFERENCE i'm so glad you noticed!! i was so excited for it lol. i mentioned this in another post briefly, but i think armand's lowkey disgusted with himself for purchasing the painting bc it's a physical representation of the fact that he finds reader interesting. even before louis, before he knew her, he found something about her interesting, and bc he thinks reader has dismissed him, he wants to pretend that he's never thought about her at all.

i don't want to spoil where the painting is (it's not a major spoiler lol) but armand still has it and it is somewhere secret.

omg armand's intentions with bestie reader 😭!! i'm going to give you a short answer and then a long answer bc his feelings for her evolve slowly.

short answer: he has a really intense hate-crush on her. she's so beloved and perfect and basically the sun personified. he wants to consume her soul, he wants her to not exist, he wants her live forever, he wants her, he wants her to be just as obsessed with him so that he can calm down. she's an affliction. she's a blessing. he's going through it.

long answer: at first, he resents her bc she's taking up all of louis's attention and love. then, he starts to wonder what is so perfect and wonderful about her that has louis absolutely enraptured by her existence. then, he tries to win her over for his pride, and then..well...it spirals.

there's also the underlying benefits of getting reader to care more about him than louis bc then louis can't leave him without losing reader (most delusional and unrealistic part of his thought process tbh).

as far as end goals, he's a little lost bc all of this was an accident <3. it gets to a point where louis and reader are so intertwined, armand thinks he deserves to be with both of them. he's entitled to a matching set.

bestie reader's gen-z-ness being the reason she can see through everything armand says 😭. omg. in my head, she likes louis and armand together so when she realizes something is up she's like oh no. bc she obviously has to tell louis but she's not happy about it. lowkey on a subconscious level she doesn't want to not have armand in her life so she's like :(.

still calls him out tho bc she's loyal and also bc his lies are so egregious it's hard not to. i can picture her being lowkey sneaky when armand mentions saving louis, like feigning confusion and asking something like "just so i'm clear, isn't lestat also technically a powerful vampire? and wasn't he also in the building?" just to start something but also as a way of sending louis subliminal messages to lock in and open his eyes.

also i can see daniel realizing bestie reader knows something is up and looking at louis and being like "come on...i know, armand knows, even the girl that was really happy to be talking two minutes ago and now can't stop staring at the floor knows..." 😭

omg and armand liking being called out. this is for sure when his obsession with reader peaks. also, this hasn't come up yet, but i picture bestie reader as being very perceptive and when she argues with armand over small things she accidentally clocks him with next level reads that she'll never know how accurate they are. i'm talking reads so accurate, louis is immediately stepping in between them bc he thinks it's so over for her just for armand to let it go. (might need to write a drabble featuring this)

armand's love language to reader is not killing or torturing her for calling him out. it gets to a point where louis is like ? girl i've seen you kill people for implying what she just directly said?? if louis ever notices that something is going on with armand in relation to bestie reader it's bc of a suspicious lack of attempts to physically hurt her fr.

(also total side note, but bc you mentioned devil's minion, i just needed to say i love devil's minion era sm.)

omg in response to your side note, i LOVED that moment so much. "or what?" had me gagged. on the GROUND fr.

daniel and reader would get along so well. two divas coming together to maximize their joint slay. they're sitting around the penthouse giggling over the vampire drama like they're the immortal ones 😭.

also,, never apologize for sending me a long ask!! i'm currently very hyperfixated on iwtv and this was so fun for me! if anything, i'm sorry for how long this response was 😭💗