#googled Why the Fuck is this happening and one of the reasons could be stress

[ishikawayukis]

as if this month couldn't get worse i got my period a full ass week earlier that i should've lmao

[featherandferns]

daylight - six

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 6 of the daylight series | read part 5 here

content warnings: sexual content (m receiving)

word count: 2.8k.

blurb: seemingly not put-off from your last encounter, JJ comes by your house and studies your photographs. There's one within the mix that makes something click in JJ's head.

“Mimsy, it was humiliating,” you groan through the camera. 

She cringes. “I mean…yeah, that is pretty rough.”

“Ah!” you cry, tossing your head into your hands. 

“What was up? Were you not turned on?”

“Of course I was!” you argue, offended at the insulation that JJ wasn’t sex walking. “I just got all in my head, and the dark and Tyler and–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Mimsy interrupts. You brave a glance at her on the facetime call. “You were thinking of Tyler whilst hot-mechanic-man was going down on you?”

“Well, we never got that far,” you mumble. 

Mimsy silences you with a look. “Why were you thinking of Tyler?”

You sigh and shake your head. Once more, your eyes dart down to the shoebox. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I just felt like I was back in that room with him all over again in December. The confusion and the–”

“Are you sure Tyler never assaulted you?” Mimsy checks. Despite her careless questioning, you know it comes from a place of concern. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” you say. “I mean, his emphasis on consent was honestly one of his finer features. One time I nodded and he went ‘no, no, you gotta use your words’.”

“Condescending prickhole,” Mimsy mutters bitterly. 

Eyebrows raised, mildly alarmed, you say, “well, yes, he was, but he was an consent advocate.”

“Gee, someone give him a gold medal. The bar really is on the fucking floor.”

You click your fingers. Mimsy could get lost in her anti-Tyler spiel easily. “Can we stay on task, please? What the hell is wrong with my body!?”

“Alright, one sec,” Mimsy says. You watch as she types away on her laptop, halfway in shot. “Okay, Google, what have you got?”

Waiting anxiously as Mimsy puruses the web, she makes a ‘eureka’ type sound. 

“Well if it makes you feel any better, apparently around seventeen percent of women aged eighteen to fifty experience vaginal dryness problems during sex. So you’re not a freak - yay!”

“Thank you for that,” you grumble. “What else does it say? Does it say why it happens?”

“Not being turned on enough is the leading cause. Insufficient foreplay type things,” Mimsy reads. 

You shake your head, fingers pressed to your lips in thought. “No, I was definitely turned it on. It was only when he was no longer kissing me and stuff…”

“Is that when the Tyler thoughts started?” Mimsy wonders. 

You nod. 

“Alright, well, other reasons are psychological. Stress, anxiety, that kind of thing. You think that might be it?”

“Maybe,” you muse. Before you can try to expand your thoughts, Mimsy’s phone chimes. She momentarily disappears as she reads the text, and you watch as she gets up in a rush. “You good?”

“Darren hit me up. He said he’ll be here in five.”

“Wait, Darren?” you gape. “Since when were you hooking up with Darren?”

“Like a week ago, at this beach get-together. He’s gotten cuter, y’know? Works out and stuff now,” she grins cheeky at the camera, licking her teeth.

It's times like these that you realise how much your lives are already changing without the other knowing. Most of the time it's easy to ignore, but every now and then the FOMO is relentless and jealousy tries to rear its ugly head. 

“Right, I gotta dash. I need to check I’m nice and clean shaven.”

“T.M.I. Mimsy. We need some boundaries."

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mimsy says before deadpanning: “have fun navigating your dry vagina.”

“Fair point,” you mumble. With that, Mimsy disappears from your screen.

You mindlessly meddle on Instagram, editing your latest post - a picture of the Pogues you took a few weeks ago - and scrolling through the feed. A text notification appears. It’s JJ.

Let me in. 

Frowning, you reply. 

Hello?? 

I’m outside lol. Let me in. 

Frown deepening, you ditch your phone and rush down the stairs. Sure enough, when you open the door, JJ’s there. He’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts, and those same damned combat boots. No cap, messy tendrils of hair sticking out any which way. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I was bored.”

“Oh,” you reply. JJ had never come into your house before. Always picked you up or dropped you off outside. “Well, come in, I guess.”

JJ gladly does so. Wanders through the doorway, hands in his pockets. 

“What you been up to today?” you wonder. 

“Went to Heyward’s with Pope to earn a couple bucks,” JJ says as he eyes up the decor. Most things are unpacked now, having been in Kildare for almost two months. Faux family photos line the mantle of the fire which doesn’t work. JJ peruses them. “You were a cute kid.”

“Thanks,” you say. “You want a drink or something?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, pulling out his flask. You roll your eyes as he takes a swig of what you assume is whiskey. “Where your parents at?”

“Trying to rekindle their romance on a weekend trip to my uncle’s place,” you say. “I was just gonna edit the last lot of photos I took at Kook Club.”

“They any good?” he asks. 

The two of you had worked the latest Gala dinner. It had been to “raise money” for the already pristine, state-of-the-art tennis courts. Whilst they were charging guests a thousand dollars per ticket, you and JJ left with less than a hundred bucks for ten hours worth of work. 

“They’re alright. Rafe and his posse are in the back of a bunch, sneaking drinks, so I need to edit that crap out,” you huff. You start up the stairs and JJ follows. Opening the door, you guide JJ into your bedroom. 

“Ta da,” you say. “My humble abode.”

“Cute bear,” JJ teases, pointedly looking at your well-cuddled stuffie.

You rush to grab him, hiding him under the pillow and nervously laughing when you turn back to him. 

His eyes gravitate to your pinboard of pictures. A collection of your favourites. Friends mostly, with about two of your parents. Lots of Vancouver. The Pogues. JJ. Things you took whilst people-watching. Most of the photos are pictures of the neighbourhood and town. Beaches and trees and people going about their days. Boats bobbing on water and fisherman dragging up crab-cages. Children biking down the street and old couples sat on their porches like something from a Suburbia advert in the fifties. There’s an intrigued slant to his brow as he takes in the world you see. 

Then, JJ plucks one from the masses and holds it with care, something seemingly unnatural for someone so energetic. You can’t help but study him as he studies your picture. It’s one you took almost two weeks ago, of a man that you saw smoking a cigarette outside of a dive bar. There was something about him that seemed so tired and worn, like he’d wasted his happiness on something unforgiving. JJ’s smile fades. There’s an urge to ask him if he's okay, though you’re not sure why. 

He returns it to the board and deliberates over some more. You try and think of something to say but come up with nothing. 

“These are really good,” JJ absent-mindedly tells you, eyes trained on the pictures. 

“Thanks.”

JJ smiles at the one you took of him. It’s a strange smile: like he’s surprised by his own candidness. Then he physically freezes. You follow his trained vision to a picture hidden under layers. Oh no. 

“Is that…”

JJ takes it from the board, careful not to disturb the others, and stares at it for a painful length of time. All you can do is fidget nervously, eyes wide, and watch him piece together the picture. Frowning, he holds it up to you as he turns. 

“When did you take this?”

“Um…”

It’s of him, laughing from afar, standing before a sunsetting sky, the sea in the distance. You try to grab it off him but his reflexes are too fast. JJ holds it above his head, out of your reach. 

“Just one time at the beach.”

“Nuh-uh,” JJ says, a grin starting to unfurl. “You’re lying. When’d you take this? I don’t remember you taking this.”

“Just a dumb candid I got at this kegger one time. It was ages ago,” you hurriedly say. 

And all the puzzle pieces click in JJ’s mind. The grin comes through in full effect and he points a finger in your face. Your stomach sinks through the floor. 

“It was you!”

“W-what?” you stammer.

“You were the peeping Tom at Chloe’s kegger! I knew I didn’t fucking imagine it!” JJ announces. 

No, no, bad, bad, bad. 

“Holy shit! I’ve been trying to figure out who it was and it was you the whole time!”

“Don’t be a dick, okay? I just like people-watching. Clearly!” you defend, gesturing to the pictures. 

“I’m not being a dick,” JJ says, enthusiasm dwindling. He lowers the photo and looks at it again. A smile returns, sweeter this time. “It’s a really good photo.”

“Course you’d say that,” you snort, taking it back. “You’re in love with yourself.”

“Damn straight,” he gloats. He watches you place the photo in your bedside drawer. “Putting that in your wank bank for later, then?”

“Careful,” you snarl, shooting him a glare. He cackles.

ADHD brain in full swing, JJ takes to investigating your cameras. “You ever take photos of yourself?”

“No.”

“Ever had people take them for you?”

“Look, some people photograph well,” you say, gesturing to JJ, “and some people don’t.”

JJ quirks a brow. “Are you saying you’re not photogenic?”

You make a face of ‘well, duh’ and JJ laughs incredulously.

“Oh, bullshit. You’re smoking! You’d take a great picture.”

“Well, history proves otherwise,” you laugh, flopping onto your bed. 

JJ looks back to the cameras. At his extended quiet, you gain the sense that he’s plotting something. Concocting. “What?”

“Just thinkin’,” he hums. He grabs your Polaroid camera, turning to you. “This charged?”

“It’s battery powered, JJ,” you say. “So, yes.”

“Got paper in it?”

“That little dial on the right will say.”

JJ checks and a grin reappears. “Lie down.”

“Excuse me?”

“Humour me,” JJ says, “lie down.”

Rolling your eyes, you comply, lying down like a corpse. “Happy?”

“No, fucking…” JJ poorly  imitates a sensual pose. You giggle. “Give it some effort.”

Sighing, as if it’s some great effort, you do as he asks. JJ grins and lifts the camera. With that, you crack up and raise a hand, trying to push the lens away. He snaps a photo before you can. 

“JJ!”

“Come on, come on! Pose it up, girl,” he urges. 

Aware that he won’t quit, you sit up and smile reluctantly with a lopsided head tilt. JJ takes another photo. 

“Okay, gimme something sexy.”

“Sexy?” you guffaw. 

“Yeah! Something for my wank bank.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter. You tug your shirt off before you can overthink it and lean back on your arms, dressed in pyjama shorts and bralette. JJ’s grin takes up half his face. “Happy?”

“That’s it baby, work it…”

At his compliments and praises, you entertain him further. Your confidence blossoms under the lens and you start to understand why people like being photographed. It makes you feel important. Beautiful, like you’re something worthy to be captured. You find yourself grabbing at your tit with one hand, staring doe-eyed into the lens. Another photo has you teasing at showing your nipple, pulling down the lip of your bra.

As JJ continues to snap away, you see his dick getting harder and harder under his shorts. When the camera runs out of film, JJ dumps it on your desk and he practically pounces on you. Consumes you with a heady kiss, a hand reaching up to your jaw, tilting your head to deepen it. You’re obsessed with the way JJ kisses. It’s so forward, unapologetic and proud. Tender and telling, dominating and delicate.

When his hands palm at your crotch over your clothes, your heart sinks. Using all the strength you have, you grab his shoulders and force him down onto his back, on your bed. An impressed, bewildered smile lights up his face. It’s quickly overshadowed with lust.

Now straddling his chest, JJ pulls you back down with both hands, bringing your lips to his. You both grin into the messy kiss. 

“Don’t think I forgot what you said during hot seat,” JJ mumbles out through the kiss. You don’t bother to answer. Start making work of his throat, empowered by the new position. “About your favourite position.”

Your only response is to rut back against his hard-on. JJ stammers out a groan which seems to quiet him. You push his shirt up just as he did yours the other night, and take to praising his toned chest. Lightly trace your tongue over his nipples. Who would have thought JJ was a switch? Not you. 

“Please, baby, fuck,” JJ stammers. 

“You want my mouth?” you tease, rubbing him through his shorts. 

“God, yes, yes,” he begs, eyes closed tight with pleasure. 

You drag it out. Leisurely free him from his shorts and boxers. Take long, slow kisses right up from his calves, guiding your trial with your nails. When you finally take his leaking tip in your mouth, JJ grabs at the sheets with a moan. You go down on him, varying between fast and slow, deep and shallow. Suckle at the tip just to hear the sounds he makes, sat up on his forearms to watch. 

“Takin’ me so well,” JJ groans. One of his hands fists into your hair. “Fuck…That’s it.”

You hum around his dick, grabbing at the flesh of his thigh for purchase as you work him closer and closer to the edge. He pulls you off him before he comes, spilling onto his chest with a shuddering groan. You sit back on your haunches, wiping at your mouth, as JJ sits up. You grab the box of tissues from beside your bed and offer them to him. He’s almost blushing as he takes them, cleaning himself up. 

“Christ, you Vancouver girls are built different, huh?” he says. 

You laugh, flustered. “Well, I can’t speak for all of us.”

“Don’t need you to,” JJ smirks, reaching out for you by your hip bone. “I got the perfect one right here.”

He easily pulls you into his lap with one arm. Dumbs your thoughts with a kiss, tongue swirling deliciously in your mouth. But when one of his hands ventures lower, you pull away with a small smile. He tries to chase your mouth with his but you place a hand to the apex of his neck, keeping him at bay. He frowns.

Tracing the pad of your thumb under one of his eyes, you quietly say, “maybe another night.”

JJ’s reaction mirrors that of a child being told they can’t have a candy bar. “Wait, seriously?”

“I’m tired,” you lie with a laugh. Pecking his lips, you smile. “Worn me out.”

“Barely fucking touched you,” JJ grumbles, disgruntled. You move off him and grab the mess of tissues, filtering them into your bedroom bin. You can feel JJ watching you as you gather the polaroid photos from the floor. “Is this about the other night?”

Your lack of reply is reply enough. 

“That was probably a fluke! I read somewhere that dehydration can cause it,” JJ tells you. You make your way back over with a small smile. JJ reaches out a hand and grabs you by your hip. He leans forward and places a kiss to your stomach through your t-shirt. Looks up at you, innocent through his lashes. “Just let me at you and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“As romantic as that is,” you sardonically say, looping your fingers through his hair and gently easing him away, “I just wanna go to sleep. You staying over?”

“Is that cool with you?” JJ checks. 

“Mhm,” you say. “I’m gonna go wash up, yeah?”

“Alright,” JJ replies, already tugging off his shirt. 

When you’re finished in the bathroom you find JJ under your sheets, scrolling on his phone. You settle in beside him. Your bed is just slightly bigger than a twin. It gives you a good excuse to cuddle up against him. Sighing, JJ clicks off his phone and lays back. 

“You wanna get the light?” he wonders, absentmindedly stroking your shoulder.

“No,” you mumble against his sturdy frame. “I sleep with it on.”

“Oh. Alright.”

JJ coils an arm around your midsection, bending to your form like ivy wills to a building. And how strange is it to think, that as you and JJ fall asleep tangled up with each other, that a box of your ex-boyfriend's things lies under the bed.

read part seven here!

taglist:

@princessuki21 | @psyches-reid | @heybank | @avengersgirllorianna | @rrosiitas | @yourmumstoy | @jjsfavgirl | @void21 | @fictionalcomforts | @gsp420 | @redhead1180 | @wearemadeofstardust0 | @mrs-jjmaybank | @ifilwtmfc | @heybank | @lilyw1235 | @belle101200

[trans-axolotl]

Can I ask what things have helped you learn to live with psychosis?

Sure! It's definitely been a journey for me, so this is probably going to be a long post lol. I'm also going to add the disclaimer that this is about about me and what worked for me--I don't think this is going to be helpful for everyone and I don't think that everyone needs to think about their psychosis/altered states in the same way that I think about mine.

When I first starting experiencing it, psychosis was very disruptive and incredibly distressing to me. Now, at this point in my life, although my psychosis is often inconvenient or annoying, it generally is not distressing or majorly disrupting my life in the way it used to. a lot of credit for this is due to places like Project LETS, the Hearing Voices Network, etc, that let me see for the first time different ways of thinking about and coping with altered states. The medical model was more harmful than anything for me: it left me feeling like i had no agency over my own experiences, and that the only option the rest of my life would be to submit to varying degrees of surveillance and control with no hope of ever having moments of joy again.

For me, the first step for living with my psychosis was to approach my hallucinations/delusions with a lot of curiosity, and to build up my own picture of what my experience of psychosis was like. I started asking myself a lot of questions:

What do the hallucinations/delusions I experience look like? What do they feel like in my body? What emotions do they bring up for me? What's happening in my life when I'm having more frequent hallucinations/delusions? How do I feel when people challenge me on my hallucinations/delusions? Are there people/places/things that my hallucinations/delusions are happening more frequently around? What parts of my hallucinations/delusions bring me distress? Are there any parts of my hallucinations/delusions that I like? Are there things that help making dealing with hallucinations/delusions easier?

The way I wrote these questions out makes it sound like I had a lot of insight about the fact that I was hallucinating and delusion and makes it sound like I was really methodical about this, which is absolutely not the case. A lot of this was me just like, scribbling in journals and google docs about my theories about angels and my favorite angels and lists of poisons and on and on and on. A lot of the most helpful insights were random ones that I found when I was completely delusional, not in the periods when I had insight and was trying to map all this out.

But overall, what I was able to figure out was that in general, most of my psychosis was associated with one of two themes:

feeling unsafe and worried about dangerous threats

feeling controlled and unable to exercise my autonomy.

This made a lot of sense to me, given my own personal history with trauma and the traumatic things actively happening in my life at the time. When that clicked it felt like so much suddenly made sense, and I was able to get a lot more of an understanding of why certain things felt so distressing and urgent. Having a delusion that all my food is being poisoned creates a level of paranoia and stress that is pretty unreasonable and unhelpful as an adult who buys all their own food. Having that same level of paranoia and stress as a child who had to live in a dangerous situation without any control? A lot more helpful and reasonable for surviving. There were so many hallucinations/delusions (bugs/people in my walls/monsters and blood/etc) that I could clearly track all the ways that they did kind of function as a protective strategy for me in traumatic situations by raising my level of alarm and awareness, but now just caused me so much fucking stress.

At this point, it felt like I had a pretty okay grasp on some of the reasons I was experiencing psychosis, and then wanted to think about how I could actually then cope with it. First I identified all the things that weren't working and instead were just making me pissed off and making things worse.

Logical attempts to reality check me just made me feel more stressed, paranoid, and often made the hallucinations worse and the delusions bigger.

Before, this hadn't made any sense to me, but after identifying those underlying emotions around safety and autonomy it made so much fucking sense. People reality checking me, or even me trying to use logic against hallucinations with myself, didn't do anything to validate my emotions or meet that underlying need. Instead it just made me feel like I wasn't being listened to or believed, that I didn't have anyone I could trust, and that I had to be more on guard, which just perpetuated the whole cycle!

So for me, I realized that any coping skills would need to be centered around validating my emotions and meeting my underlying need for safety and/or autonomy. Practically, what this looked like for me was making a bunch of documents that are titled things like "Tips for if there's bugs inside of you" "Things you like to remember when you're talking to angels" etc etc etc. I think what really helped this work for me is that I didn't title them things like "how to cope with delusions about bugs" because I know that when I'm delusional, reading something like that is just going to piss me off and make me feel like I'm being called a liar. In those documents I write a lot of affirmations for my emotions and then write out a list of specific coping skills, organized from least chaotic/risky to most chaotic/risky. Nothing gets me more pissed off when I'm in a bad space then people trying to get me to use therapeutic coping skills when I don't want to, so I knew that I wanted to include a wide range of out-of-the-box coping skills. I'll share a few from my list of coping skills for increasing autonomy that I put in my "tips for if there's bugs inside of you document."

eat/shower/sleep/talk to someone in real life/pain meds

redecorate your room

shoplift

cut your hair

work on a project like embroidery or knitting or origami where you have to create something with your hands

choose a random place outside and go there

try some DBT/ACT/RODBT skills and see if they help you feel just 2% better, enough that you can do something else that you hate less like distractions.

distract (talk with friends, watch tv, read)

choose a random place outside and go there

make a lot of noise and kick things over in your room

break things

self harm (following my harm reduction plan)

drugs/alcohol

if i'm doing well enough, i try to first use coping skills that don't also have mental or physical risks for myself, but if i need to, I give myself permission to cope in whatever ways meet my needs in the moment and try to let go of some of the shame associated with riskier coping skills. I also have talked about psychosis openly with my trusted friends who know what kinds of support are helpful and what shit just makes me pissed off and frightened.

Overall, this has helped make psychosis a LOT less distressing for me, and over time also has made it happen slightly less. About half the time these days I have insight that what's happening are delusions or hallucinations which has helped make it easier to remember to cope. These days, psychosis mostly happens when my body is under a lot of stress (no sleep/seizure recovery/not eating/injured), and also sort of acts an alarm bell to me that somethings going on in my life that I might not have noticed, either in terms of my physical health or in terms of stressful situations or emotions that I'm not ready to think about or process.

That's one of the reasons that my psychosis is so meaningful to me, to be honest. I honestly feel really grateful that my psychosis gave me a way to externalize and experience my emotions before I was ready or able to experience them and feel them in my body. I think having hallucinations/delusions helped protect me at certain times in my life while still helping me acknowledge in a certain way that I was so fucking angry and grieving and hurt and in pain. I think that helped keep me alive long enough to get to a point where I could start to process and unpack trauma without it completely overwhelming me, or without convincing myself that I needed to be fine at any cost. And maybe it's strange to say I'm grateful for that, but I am.

so. that's most of what has worked for me. The way I wrote it out made it seem super simple and straightforward, but in reality it was absolutely nothing like that. It was years of a lot of chaos and feeling upset so much of the time and feeling absolutely clueless and my loved ones feeling concerned and writing things down and forgetting that I wrote things down and having the same problem over and over agai. just overall was so messy and not at all a linear process like I wrote about it here. I absolutely still have plenty of times where I just fuck off and forget I've ever thought about coping and just go around with hallucinations disrupting my entire day, and plenty of times it's still stressful.

And also again: this is about me and what's worked for me. My biggest advice for other people about coping with psychosis is a lot less about the specifics of a process or exactly what coping skills to use. Instead I think it's a lot more about approaching with curiosity first, just giving yourself the space to explore your psychosis on your own terms, to try things out, to build your own relationship with psychosis and how it fits into your life, and to affirm yourself as someone who does have agency about how you want to think, talk, feel, and cope with your own psychosis/altered states.

hope that was helpful and/or interesting anon, feel free to let me know if you have any other psychosis/altered states questions!

[livesincerely]

i was just reading back through your writer’s desks and remembered how much i loved the slideshow au! no pressure but do you have anymore thoughts on it? it’s just one of my faves <3

The outline/notes for that one are still in the very early stages but I’m happy to share what I’ve got so far!

00000

He’s waiting for Tony to come back from the bathroom, the next episode of Crime Scene Kitchen queued up on the tv, when his phone vibrates with a text from Jack.

this prod meeting is running long, probs won’t be back until late. Go ahead and watch w/o me

Everything ok?

ya but part of the set got busted during a scene change so I gotta figure when/how to fix it before tomorrow night

I’ll put your takeout in the fridge and save you some egg rolls

and that’s why you’re my favorite

Say hi to Medda for me

of course

“Jack’s not going to be home until late,” Davey announces as Tony wanders back into the living room. “He says we should start without him.”

….

“Dave,” Tony says, sighing deeply. “Why am I looking at a PowerPoint titled, “Jack Kelly + David Jacobs: A Comprehensive Argument for Maintaining Equilibrium.”

Davey pins him with a scathing look. “It’s a Google Slides presentation, you godless heathen.”

“What the fuck?” Tony asks, ignoring him, clicking rapidly through the screens. “When did you even make this?”

Davey shifts in his seat. “I mean, it’s more of a living document, so it’s never really finished—“

“Davey.”

“A couple years ago, I guess,” Davey says. “Give or take.”

Tony squints at the computer screen. “It’s saved on your old university account.”

“Okay, or maybe it was three months into junior year!” Davey admits, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was a stressful semester and I was super nervous about failing my animal science midterm and Jack was out on a date with that PoliSci major that lived upstairs and— And the when isn’t the point! The point is, according to my research, telling Jack isn’t worth the risk of ruining our friendship.”

“What are these graphs even measuring?” Tony asks, staring at one of the slides. “‘Overall Happiness, Jacobs v Others’?”

….

“Well, your math is absolute shit, for one thing,” Tony says, frowning at a graph entitled ‘Art Pieces per Subject’. Davey’s name is sitting in dead last. “There’s no way these numbers are right. Jack draws you literally all of the time.”

Davey frowns right back at him. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Uh, yeah he fucking does,” Tony disagrees. “You’re, like, one of his favorite things to make art of, period. He spends about half his time bitching about how copic doesn’t make a marker that matches your eyes—at this point I’m pretty sure he’s got more drawings of you than actual pictures.”

“I think I would’ve noticed if Jack suddenly started drawing me,” Davey scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s not like he’s subtle when something’s caught his eye. Plus, he lets me flip through his sketchbooks whenever he finishes filling one and I’m almost never in them.”

“Which one?” Tony asks.

Davey blinks. “Which one, what?”

“Which one,” Tony repeats, oddly intent. “Which sketchbook does he show you?”

“What do you mean, which one?” Davey asks, irritated. “The only one! The one he always— it’s not like it’s some big secret!”

Tony stares. Then Tony sighs.

Very quietly, Davey hears him mutter, “…pair of fucking morons.”

…..

“Okay, but, riddle me this,” Tony says. “Why don’t you just tell him? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“What’s the worst that could— I literally just went over all the reasons why that’s a horrible idea!” Davey exclaims. “It would ruin everything!”

“I really don’t think it would, Dave,” Tony says. “You and Jack��� will ya at least think about it?”

“I’ve done nothing but think about it,” Davey says, and to his horror, he can feel his eyes starting to sting. “I can’t.”

“Want me to do it?” Tony offers, and he says it like a joke but Davey knows him too well to think that he’s anything but absolutely serious.

He jolts forward, arms outstretched as if to preemptively cram the words back down his throat. “Don’t you fucking dare, Tones, I am so fucking serious—“

“Okay, okay!” Tony says, holding up his hands in surrender. “I won’t snitch on your neurotic ass, even if it’d make you happier in the long run. My word as my bond or whatever.”

Davey huffs out a laugh, and it’s only a little teary. “Fuck you, my neurotic ass is the reason you made it to graduation, shithead.”

…..

“Hey, can I borrow your laptop?” Jack asks. “Mine’s dead and I left my charger at the theater.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Davey absently responds.

…..

“Davey,” Jack says, voice straining. “What the hell is this?”

“What is what?” Davey asks.

“This.” He turns the laptop around and— oh shit. It’s The Argument.

He feels his blood run cold. “Oh,” he says. “That.”

“Dave,” Jack says, his mouth set in a hard, thin line. “Did you make a fucking PowerPoint about me? About us?”

Davey swallows. “…It’s actually a Google Slides presentation,” he says weakly.

…..

“You’re telling me this is nothing?” Jack demands, incredulous. He tilts the screen back to show Davey the current slide, which is just an enlarged photo of Jack’s handsome, smiling face, surrounded by a halo of red arrows and the caption, ‘JUST LOOK AT HIM,’ written in boldfaced text. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Maybe we can stop looking at it now,” Davey says, loudly. He leans over the back of the couch, making another panicked grab for his laptop, but Jack dodges out of the way, clicking to the next slide.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

this happened a while ago but i still feel conflicted about it. (tw: mention of germophobia, mention of suicidal thoughts) and this might get very long, so sry about that.

am i (18, F) the asshole for not wanting to try on shoes?

i know that this must sound super weird, but basically i have a pretty extreme phobia of germs and my dad (60s, M) took me spontaneously to a shoe store to buy new shoes.

now i’m also autistic, so this spontaneous change of plans was already pretty stressful for me, but i tried to hide that and pretended to be okay with that.

the thing is that i had only one “clean” pair of shoes (like clean on the inside, not the outside obviously) and like those got dirty/muddy when i was on a walk with a friend and it rained really extremely. the evening after that, i spent like an hour trying to get those shoes clean again bc otherwise i don’t know if i could’ve forced myself to ever wear them again. i did everything i could and even sanitized them like 5 times (i know it’s excessive but it still didn’t feel like it was enough). i can make myself wear them again now but it takes a bit of (internal convincing everytime and like even if i only had them on for a few moments, i change my socks and shower afterwards everytime because i just can’t handle it otherwise.

and basically my dad doesn’t really understand my mental health because i’m not good at explaining it (when i talk about this irl i always end up in tears, no matter how hard i try to suppress that and then i end up feeling bad for crying and then i spiral), but he still noticed my discomfort with my current show situation. that’s why he wanted to buy me new shoes, and rationally speaking, i was very grateful and thought it was a good idea. but emotionally, i was very distraught from the change in routine and i knew that this store was very small and that it’s basically guaranteed that all of the shoes there have already been tried on by someone.

i know that’s technically normal and not a big deal, but it’s honestly really disgusting to me and i don’t want to try on shoes that anyone else has ever worn (and especially not if i don’t know who wore them or when or how clean those people’s feet were). i knew my dad wouldn’t understand that reasoning, so i tried to just say that i don’t like the shoe brands that store has or that i want a different type of shoe or that i don’t like the design etc etc.

and then we came across the exact type of shoe i was already wearing but in black (mine were like dark purple) and my dad was like “great, you like black and you already like the brand and that specific model!” and i obviously had no excuse anymore for why i didn’t like that one. so i just admitted my actual reasoning for saying no to that and all the others.

my dad ended up opening every shoe box and i was right that all of them (in my size) had already been tried on. i really wanted to just force myself to look past that and try one on anyway, but i just couldn’t make myself do it.

i was on the verge of a panic attack tbh (i get those a lot from this phobia), but i managed to kinda keep it in check. my dad and i ended up leaving the store but i could tell that he was really annoyed and so i apologized but that seemed to only annoy him even more.

the car ride home was at first pretty awkward, then it developed into an argument where i tried to explain my phobia but i think i only made it worse on accident bc of the emotions and then we were just kinda silent at each other for the rest, until he tried to make some small talk and i fucked up (because i can’t control the tone of my voice very well due to my autism and i was still emotionally messed up), so then he got a bit passive aggressive again.

when we arrived at home, i hid in the living room (no one really ever goes there currently) and had a bit of a meltdown. i was really spiraling- like suicidal thoughts and googling for a painless suicide method because i felt like such a pathetic disappointment and failure of a daughter and human being. eventually after like half an hour, my mom came looking for me and found me sitting there, sobbing in the corner. she asked what happened and bc i felt really ashamed i didn’t want to tell her, so i said i’d explain later.

i wasn’t really able to stop crying completely that whole rest of the day. like i got some moments where i was outwardly calm, but on the inside, i wasn’t able to really calm down at all until the next day. usually my mom is pretty understanding of my phobia but not of me crying, so i was very surprised when she completely took my side after she heard what happened from my dad’s perspective.

by the time, i had stopped “hiding” in the living room, my dad had already fully calmed down as if nothing happened, but i still felt (and still feel) really bad about it, because i know he only had good intentions and i messed it up completely. my mom told me that he had offered that i could just look up some shoes online and he’d order them for me instead of going to an in-person store for that again, but i’m not sure if that was really his idea bc it sounds more like something my mom would propose. i do like that idea, but because i’m not sure if it was actually his idea, i haven’t said anything to him about it. i just feel really bad that my parents didn’t get a normal daughter, because i feel like my mental illness makes everything harder than it has to be and they don’t deserve that, but i don’t know what to do (therapy is unfortunately not an option currently).

What are these acronyms?

[chaisshitposts]

moonlighthope lied?! Jesus :(

I don’t know what to say. I feel so hopeless now since she lied… I thought her photos were real too. Someone google searched them to be safe and apparently there were no matches so it seemed legit.

I don’t understand why the hell she would lie. I had so much hope for the void state and was so happy for her. now it’s all gone again….. . I just want to cry.

i have no idea !!! ^^;; i don't wanna spread misinformation when i don't even have proof myself that there was untruthfulness on her part, i believe her tbh but ig i can understand why folks have their reservations about certain things that were said—

it's unfortunate that this happened, ye, but ya shouldn't use other people's situations to hinder yer own growth. the void's real, 'cause the void is you.

are ya real? cause if ya weren't, ya wouldn't be sendin' in this ask to me rn. it's ok if yer disappointed or sad, but imma need ya to take a step back afterwards and remember that anythin's possible so long as ya make that true to yerself. just cause somethin' ain't workin' for someone else doesn't mean it ain't gonna work for ya, that's just not how life goes.

i think the only reason why folks are so funky 'bout this situation is cause of the picture proof, when in reality we got plenty of void success stories from anonymous folks or other blogs in general. plenty of people have succeeded to tap into their god state, not just this one person, she ain't supposed to be put on some kinda pedestal simply cause she may or may not have accomplished somethin' that ya haven't yet experienced.

but heres whatcha wanna do--- create yer own proof. ya don't need proof from nobody besides yerself, cause at the end of the day, ya wanna live on creative mode so yer gonna have to take the steps ya need to take in order to take that power back. i don't give a fuck if ya say it's hard at first, yer just gonna have to keep goin'.

don't be sad, use this as motivation to create the truth and the proof ya want and crave. the world is yours to craft however ya want it. when ya have yer dreams and look back at yer spilled tears and moments of stress like this— yer gonna forgive yerself for doubtin' what ya could do in the first place. what you're feelin' right now ain't gonna be permanent unless ya decide to fall back into the victim mentality.

here's a hand ✋, imma pull ya outta that hole you're tryna fall back into. it's time to stop lettin' life beat yer ass and take control over it again, and I don't care how many times ya fall back in that hole, ya better crawl yer ass back outta that fuckin' ditch and keep goin.' stop letting life happen to you and stop accepting what ya don't want.

[riverstixxelf]

I love the SPN fandom but honestly it’s so stressful sometimes 😭

For example earlier today I googled “Misha Collins girlfriend” because I heard a rumor that he has a girlfriend, I couldn’t find much besides stuff talking about Vicky so I scrolled down and saw a tumblr post saying something about Misha being attracted to men (which I don’t necessarily disagree with, but I don’t want to tell another person what they are) and women so I clicked on it and it was a huge post (like, a couple paragraphs) talking about some strange things. I don’t remember exactly but at one point the user brought up the “fact” that Misha makes jokes about women and sex?? As in making jokes at the expense of women… and I was like… are we talking about the same Misha here? He DOES make jokes about sex but I don’t recall him ever making jokes at the expense of women. Only thing I can think of is that one story about one of his earlier acting jobs and he didn’t know the “no tongue rule” but that was mostly at the expense of himself. Then I scrolled and found another post that was pretty disturbing…

Someone had screenshotted a regular instagram caption that Jensen posted just talking about how he just got done traveling, he wanted to take a nap, something like that—nothing sexual about the post at all or anything that would suggest that—and someone captioned it with something talking about him and Misha rubbing their [babymakers] together??? I audibly laughed out loud because wtf 😭😭

I don’t want to shame Jenmish shippers (I say Jenmish because Cockles is just a… very interesting name), even though I think it’s the slightest bit strange to be shipping real people… but again I never want to put anyone down for anything because I myself have said some stuff about Jensen and Misha that might suggest something between them.

Another thing is just the amount of hate for various cast members. Mostly the hate I see is for Jared and Misha; J2 fans who hate Misha, Jenmish fans who hate Jared, etc. There’s a lot of love in this fandom but ohmygOD there’s so much hate too. I guess that’s true for any fandom, but it’s so tiring sometimes.

Also, in this fandom, you’ll get hounded for any opinion you have. If you don’t like destiel, you’re homophobic. If you do like destiel, you’re also homophobic for some reason because queer bating or whatever… for the record i’d like to state that I am a proud destiel shipper just fyi. But I see so many people take it to the extreme, make little things into big things or something along those lines. Same thing with cockles shippers I was talking about earlier. I feel like I have a pretty neutral viewpoint on stuff regarding destiel; I see most things how they are, and I make my assumptions based on CANON things. I don’t say “Dean and Cas are definitely fucking”, I say “Dean and Cas love eachother but they cant express it, because Cas wasn’t even sure what love was and Dean’s highest ideal of love is family, which is why he says Cas is like a brother to him”. Now, if you don’t agree with me, guess what… that’s okay! If you don’t think destiel exists, that’s a valid point, and i’m not gonna dox you just because you have a different opinion than me. Because that’s just it, it’s an OPINION.

I could get into Sam haters and Dean haters and stuff… but I’m tired. Actually, you know what, screw it. I WILL GET INTO IT!!!

I’ve had a few experiences with Dean haters especially, and most of the time they just ADORE Sam and thinks he’s done nothing wrong. Let me clarify that I don’t hate Sam- like- at all. Then again, Dean haters who happen to be Sam stans have warped my view on Sam a little, but I won’t let that get in my way of honest judgment.

Sam. has. done. bad. stuff. DEAN. has. done. bad. stuff. Please don’t compare their trauma, they both have their own issues, one isn’t better than the other.

I might be biased because I relate to Dean so much (like a crazy amount it’s not even funny…), but for the millionth time in a row I DO NOT HATE SAM. I saw someone saying how Dean was the cause of almost every single world-ending event that happened in SPN… like honey no. Another person replied to their comment listing all of the world-ending events… and guess what… Sam was the cause of most of them!! Does that make him a hate-worthy character? No!!

I don’t know what point i’m trying to make here. I just think there’s so much in-fighting within the SPN fandom and as much as I love being in the fandom sometimes you just gotta have a break from all the drama. If you made it this far… go outside or something don’t pay attention to me i’m chronically online.

[oh-saints]

Would you write a fluffy imagine for Benji Pavard? Like having a little french session and he kisses reader after they get something right? <3

ahjjsskdkl 🤯🤯🤯 oh to be taught by ben.........

but hope you like it nonny! <3

lesson

French is notorious for being a hard language to master and knowing this, your boyfriend is more than happy to provide an extra motivation for you…

benjamin pavard x you

tw: google-translated French words so pls cmiiw

wc: 0.8k

note: this was fun to write but also the hardest bcs I’ve forgotten the French lessons I had during high school. damn, so old. but anyway, I happen to write this during my layover so this is not yet beta-read.

request still open until tonight & you can submit them here!

it was a rather slow day for ben.

having won another Bundesliga trophy, thomas tuchel granted his players a cut to their slacks for this entire day—knowing his players must’ve celebrated wildly at their favourite local pub till the wee hours in the morning—before continuing another rigorous session tomorrow.

so ben decided to surprise you at home with some of the pastry delicacies you’d come to love from his favourite bakery—which was rather hard, finding an authentic French bakery in munich—and your favourite tub of ice cream. your choice of hangover remedy was odd, he found at first, but now he couldn’t ask for anything else to cure his buzzing head.

ben was expecting you to be sprawled in your working station—which happened to be the coffee table in the living room—with sheets and papers and numbers all over the place, as usual, so he was the one getting surprised at the only sight of your laptop and your hair was not tied in a pucca bun. the latter would’ve meant you were dealing your work with stress and that would’ve been something he could take on well by now.

“gauche means left…” you spoke to yourself as you jotted down the meaning. “droit means right… so that means c'est à gauche du four?” (it’s to the left of the oven)

“c’est à côté de four sounds better, no?” (it’s next to the oven)

you were startled at ben’s voice, the owner placing down his shopping bag at the kitchen island. you panicked instantly—not because you thought it could be somebody else, but that would mean ben just found out about your little secret. the one that you’d been working on since you started dating him six months ago.

“ben!” you jumped to your feet, albeit standing awkwardly because you weren’t ready to reveal the reason why you were enrolling yourself to a French lesson. “I don’t know you’re coming home early.”

“coach dismissed us early,” ben chuckled at your weird stance, noticing your nerves, so instead of getting his usual welcoming embrace from you, he was the one who pulled you to his arms. “too many of his players left their heads at the club.”

fuck your initial thoughts, your mind was being taken over by your favourite scent—ben after showering with a bit of his perfume spray—and your favourite kind of warmth exuding from your boyfriend’s body. naturally, you hugged him back, your hands trying to reach one another at ben’s back.

“never thought you’re picking up French, ma chérie,” he placed a well-positioned kiss on the crown of your head. “tu t’en sors?” (how are you managing?)

“pas trop, non,” not really, you replied and ben smiled wider, despite you not being able to see them. for someone who was previously confused about left and right, you were doing better than average in accent and simple phrases like this. “can you help me out?”

“thought you’d never ask,” and when you flashed him those eyes that reminded him of a lost puppy, he was a goner. he didn’t think he could ever say no to that, so cute he could die. instead of dying, though, he kissed your lips. “what topic are we covering today?”

“I’m having troubles with directions...” you said sheepishly as you sat back down, him following suit. “you know I’m generally not good with them too.”

ben laughed because you were right. you and maps shouldn’t belong in the same room without assistance. but he pecked your cheeks anyway. “but I’m already proud of you figuring out how this whole feminine and masculine thing, just so you know, okay?”

a praise from the native certainly uplifted your mood again. you were on the verge of breaking down before ben stepped into the house because god damn, that was difficult. if you weren’t planning on giving him a surprise for their 1st anniversary, you would’ve given up.

but later, you realised that it was rather ben’s preferred method of teaching. he never scolded you if you got any of the pronunciations or the articles wrong, he just corrected you gently. whenever you nailed a difficult word, you’d always get praises from him. and whenever you figured out a sentence on your own, your boyfriend would always add a kiss at the end of his praise.

“bien joué, ma chérie!” well done, my love and followed by a peck, was the most common form of his praise.

but there was also times when he was truly blooming in joy and proud as you aced a more complicated sentence, both by structure and by grammar, on top of not getting confused between left and right. that was when he slipped in a longer sentence because he knew you love his kisses so much, anywhere everywhere.

“félicitations, mon amour,” he whispered after giving you a longer, deeper, more deserving kiss before diving in again for another peck. “tu l’as bien mérité.” (congratulations, my love. you deserve it.)

you really should’ve asked for his tutelage in the first place instead of subscribing to duolingo if this was what you’d get every French lesson.

[infiniteglitterfall]

How are you holding up? I ask because I'm only, like, addressing antisemitism that leaks to my dash with every term related to Palestine I can think of blacklisted. And i'm like. Barely crlinging to fragile sanity. I hope you are better equipped to handle the stresses of this ongoing disinformation campaign. You're doing good and important work, which you must know, but I want to re-emphasize it.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3

i swear to god I thought there was a way to reply privately to asks, but apparently either there isn't or I don't have the patience to find it again.

I think that you're describing how most Jews with any connection to social media feel.

The good thing, in a way, is that researching and fact-checking is my major coping mechanism. Researching and rebutting and arguing with people until I understand everything well enough to be pithy about it. Creating ways for other people to defend themselves and to push back. Doing the research to know when I'm right helps me a lot.

I'm probably as well-equipped for this as I can imagine being (that's not really true, I should be talking to people more about it and using 12-step tools to deal with it and gosh some therapy would be nice), and like... there have still literally been times when I've been triggered for an entire week by this shit.

Most notably: the time when I saw a clip on my TikTok fyp from some podcast where some journalist fully got all dressed up and prepared to go on camera, to say that she could imagine there were a few individual rapes on Oct 7 -- although she wasn't aware of any -- but that certainly there was no evidence of systematic rape, and that saying there had been systematic rape was dehumanizing propaganda.

Like. If you can't even take one minute to google whether there had been individual rapes before you go on camera. And you haven't heard of them two months after the fact. Then you don't know enough to talk about this, period. That makes you the very opposite of an expert on the subject. And yet, that is who gets platformed. Ignorant randos who have no personal connection to any of this.

I literally knew there had been gang rapes by Hamas within the first week of the massacre. Because I cared enough to do a search for eyewitness testimony of the massacre, and I found an interview on PBS immediately.

Or, more accurately: it was because it slowly sank in that the attack had been MASSIVE. 22 kibbutzim leveled in one day, hands-on, without an airplane or mortar shell involved. All those people killed the way you would kill a horde of zombies: burned alive, or shot and then mutilated, or cut up and then shot. Like they needed to double-tap, to make sure no one was coming back around.

Two years of planning. Almost half a billion dollars in funding from Iran. Detailed guides even to the dentist's offices and kindergartens and grocery stores they were invading.

And it was very plain to, I think, nearly every Jew on earth that this was an attack aimed at Jews. Even before any recordings of attackers saying "I'm inside with the Jews" or "I killed 10 Jews with my own hands" even came out. Even though everyone else was denying it from the moment it happened.

And I felt compelled to learn more about what happened.

To KNOW.

To bear witness.

Even before it became apparent started to seem like the rest of the world would rather die themselves than bear witness to us. Even before it became apparent that Hamas had been telling people Israel would commit genocide in response before its fighters even left that country.

A reasonable person, imho, would ask why the fuck Hamas would commit such atrocities if if thought Israel would respond by killing every Palestinian in Gaza.

The Palestinians in Gaza are certainly fucking demanding to know why the hell Hamas thinks it gets to start a war on them, why its leaders get to hide out and evacuate their families while demanding civilians bleed and die for it, and why it doesn't goddamn turn itself in and give back the hostages.

But anyway.

But that's the thing. I looked it up because I was compelled to. I identified with the people attacked. I needed to know what had happened to us.

That's something outsiders would only do if they were allies.

We know, now, that we don't have allies on the left.

I've seen post after post after post, hundreds and hundreds of comments, on Jewish Reddit, asking if other progressives are okay. Asking, "how are you dealing with rejection by the left??" Asking if others are also shocked and confused and betrayed. Talking about how many friends they've lost who went masks-off antisemitic. So many people who've had to end long-term relationships when their partners went masks-off.

There's usually at least one politically conservative Jew in the comments laughing wryly and going, "wow, you really thought you were safe?"

Sometimes they ask why we're on the left if everyone there wants to kill us. Then we defiantly point out that it's not any different on the right. Or that we're not going to abandon our political beliefs for anyone.

Anyway.

I didn't even watch the podcast clip past that moment.

I ragequit. I went to the file of eyewitness testimonies I'd already put together, after weeks and weeks of denial. (And by "file," I mean "draft in gmail, because it saves automatically, and it's easy to find, and i don't know why it's better than google docs or dropbox paper, but it just is.")

I took the clearest, most authoritative ones and put them into their own document -- which i did make in dropbox lol.

I duetted the video, or whatever the fuck the one is in tiktok where you just take 5 seconds from one video and the rest is your own. It's not duetting. Idk.

It was the middle of Hanukkah. I recorded a video where I read each of however many testimonies I had, and lit a candle before each one. It was almost 10 minutes long, even though I made them as short as I could.

I didn't post it.

I was triggered all to hell for a whole week. I was staying up till 3 or 4 in the morning, researching horrifying rape testimonies, arguing with people on the internet, then sleeping too little and too late, then doing it again.

Watching myself lose a whole week to this. Knowing I couldn't do anything about it. Half-angrily, half-numbly thinking about how I couldn't afford to lose this much job search time, this much unfucking-my-life time. How I couldn't afford to have people I didn't even know fuck up my life even more.

And the bitch of it all is that the tone of the discourse makes me strongly suspect that if we said, "hey everyone needs to walk it back, you guys are deeply fucking up the mental health of pretty nearly the entire Jewish community," people would just respond by angrily telling us anti-Zionism is not antisemitism, mockingly saying that's what Zionists deserve.

Thanks for asking <3

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Multiple Orgasms (2) Masterlist

part one

All The Weights In The World (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: Dan doesn't understand why being made fun of his dick size turns him on, it just does. Thankfully, he has Phil who doesn't question it.

Birthday Surprise (ao3) - MaeTaurus

Summary: Phil buys Dan a new toy for his birthday and throws him an extra special birthday party.

Can You Milk A...? (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: "Men can be milked."

- actual Phil at 5:58 in The Final Google Feud video

...and this fic is based on that lmao

Cops and Robbers (ao3) - phandomsub

Summary: Phil has always been open with Dan about his kinks — except for one.

Dan's Surprise (ao3) - MaeTaurus

Summary: Phil invites someone to join them for a scene to surprise Dan.

Feel the Heat (ao3) - cockwhoredan

Summary: two british boys can’t handle the weather in florida. (maybe fucking isn’t the best way to cool down, but they do it anyways.)

Give Me More (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Who knew a lazy morning full of fluff and cuddles could turn into edging and overstimulation so quickly.

Give Me More (ao3) - notreallythatuseful

Summary: "'Sometimes I can come just from this,' Dan confides, the twitching of his hand revealing the way he must be curling his fingers inside of himself. 'Most times more than once.' His hand flies up to his cock, beginning to jack himself steadily. 'Phil, when I – when I see you, will you make me come, please? I want it,' he says, so genuine and so needy. His back arches off of the bed, twisting down desperately onto his fingers."

Or, Dan's a virgin who can come over and over again, and he and Phil see each other in person for the first time.

Happy Christmas, Daddy (ao3) - MaeTaurus

Summary: A few days before Christmas Dan finds himself tipsy, lonely, and horny. He creates a Tinder profile where he meets Michael, a nice guy who enjoys bossing Dan around and giving him various tasks to do for him. But who is Michael? And what happens when both Dan and Phil's family Christmases are canceled?

Prompt: Christmas Tinder date! Dan isn't expecting much - Tinder's a place, as he's known, for pervs and slightly too desperate singletons (hey, that's /not/ him, thank you very much - but well, it's Christmas and anything can happen ;)

I can't get enough of you (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Phil wakes up feeling extremely sexually frustrated and no matter how much he gets off it isn't enough.

Luckily Dan was more than willing to be Phil's human sex toy.

Kaboom: How to Talk Dirty in the Bedroom (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Phil slips up in a gaming video and nearly exposes their sexual relationship. The content raises questions in Phil's mind, and he learns a thing or two about what Dan likes when he has the nerve to ask. Phil takes on a new persona when they make love that night.

King of Erotic Massages (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Phil is too stressed, Dan decides to give him a hand... among other things.

let our bodies make memories (ao3) - symmetricdnp

Summary: The tour's starting to kick into gear, and Dan and Phil enjoy one of their precious days off at home.

Mafia Baby (ao3) - Do_it_with_the_Howell_Lesters

Summary: Phil is the head if the city’s most powerful mafia, and Dan is his baby. Phil is ruthless, and feared. Dan is soft, but crazy, and most importantly, he is Phil’s. God help anyone who disrespects Phil’s baby.

Magic Shop (ao3) - your_starless_eyes

Summary: It made sense that Dan would need time to recover from the tour, just the same as Phil. It was logical reasoning.

How was he supposed to know? How was Phil supposed to know that it was, in fact, a bigger issue than he could imagine?

Make It 3, Just For Daddy - elliesfics

Summary: Dan has just moved into Phil’s apartment and at 18 years old he’s certain that he’s found the friend of a lifetime! Phil couldn’t agree more with that statement. Unfortunately, ever since Dan moved in, Dan developed a habit of getting off at least twice a day. The problem- he didn’t think Phil knew. Phil of course, has reached the point of being able to predict exactly when Dan would reach his high, though doesn’t have the heart to let Dan know that he can hear every last moan. But what happens when one night Dan, in what he thinks is private lets out a filthy secret.

Pain in the Neck (ao3) - prettymalfoy

Summary: Normally, Phil loved Dan's snakebites. The younger got them when he was 16, before he met Phil, inspired by the cool looking emos on MySpace he aspired to be. Phil had never known Dan without the piercings, had only ever seen pictures of him before he got them. They were a part of Dan, and Phil loved them. Normally.

aka Vampire Phil

Ready to Let Go (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrosepetals)

Summary: Dan doesn’t want to go to India in February, just before Valentine’s Day, with his increasingly homophobic parents. He doesn’t want to be a lawyer, or settle down with some pretty girl one day. Dan wants to spend Valentine’s Day with Phil. He wants to be an entertainer. And he sure as hell plans on marrying Phil one day. But more than any of that, Dan just wants be himself. He wants to be happy. Sequel to Too Tense to Be Undone.

Sensations (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Sure Dan and Phil usually kept their sex life fairly vanilla, but sometimes they’d play rough and Dan was a screamer and Phil loved taking control.

Sweet As Sugar (ao3) - prinanalogicality

Summary: Dan gets a reward for being such a good boy.

the blindfold he wears (ao3) - moonalive

Summary: dan edges phil and phil is blindfolded.

Tiny Dan (ao3) - MickythePhanTrash

Summary: I totally wrote this instead of my social essay. Dans tiny Phils big, Dan rides him and gets fucked like the twink he is.

Toying With You (ao3) - AmberNotes, mollieblack

Summary: Dan thought it’d be a fun idea . . . Something to spice up the dreary routine of life. This is what led him to the remote controlled vibrator, figuring it could add a bit of excitement to his day. One problem. Dan drops the remote. And Phil has no idea what the small plastic oval he finds on the train is, but he likes clicking the button and turning the dials.

Where You Belong (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: Dan had always wanted to be in a D/s relationship, but he doesn’t know how to sub properly. That was until he met Phil.

wind me up, watch me go (ao3) - silentdescant

Summary: Dan cleans out their sex toy collection and Phil makes plans for using one.

you were a bad idea (and a good fuck, too) (ao3) - cockwhoredan

Summary: Essentially, Dan’s twenty years old and still masturbates like a sixteen year old boy who cums his pants just from hearing the word ‘boob’. Maybe, he thinks, it's not such a big surprise that he’s finally turned to Grindr after all this time, being the sad, desperate fucker he is.

[joellesolo]

Neurodivergency is wild, everyone.

The neurodivergent urge to NEVER throw anything away, even if it’s broken/torn/ruined in some way, JUST IN CASE it comes in handy.

I have a pajama rotation I have lived by for over five years, and my Thurs-Sun top between showers is this super comfy HU lounge tank. Well, a couple years ago it got a hole in it, so, I went to the HU site and replaced it (and in hindsight, should’ve bought like five of them). Fast forward to now, there are like, five dime sized holes in my current replacement tank, and I was spiraling (because that’s all I’ve been doing lately 🙃) because I can’t really sew, and I can’t just BUY a new shirt that’s a totally different texture (because I did that for my Tues-Thurs pj shirt and it’s been a year and I STILL don’t like the new one, too thick) so I googled how to sew and it was not going well, so I posted on facebook whining about the neurodivergent routines and clothing rotations I have, honestly just hoping someone would offer to fix my shirt for me 😅 (side note: I did try to find the actual shirt, first on poshmark with no luck, then on HU with no luck, then I found it on a super sketchy site which was cool except it was super sketchy and the link wouldn’t even open on my husband’s phone when I sent it to him so, that was a no go 😞)

And, someone commented explaining they totally get it!! and had knowledge of sewing and was trying to ask me about the fabric, if I could patch it, etc., and I’m like, no, it’s pretty lightweight, I don’t have any other shirt that’s similar otherwise it would solve my problem ha, and while they’re trying to talk me through it I get hit by this random thought:

“Wait, what if I saved the original one?? I don’t like to throw things out! I always save stuff! I could use the original as scrap fabric for patches!!”

So I went digging through three boxes of old clothes in my closet, was about to admit defeat, then thought to check my pajama drawer, and, it was the second shirt from the top. SECOND FROM THE TOP. It’s just been hanging out in my pajama drawer for two/three years, I didn’t toss it even though it has a hole! 

And I was like, perfect! I can just cut up this one and then patch the other one and don’t have to worry about different textures! And then my brain took it one step further and went, wait a minute, the old shirt has ONE tiny little pea sized hole, the current shirt has five dime sized holes... why not mend the shirt that’s in better shape instead of cutting it up and trying to fix five fucking holes?!

So I threw it in the dryer with a dryer sheet (because it smelled like stale drawer) while I showered, and now I don’t even care about fixing it because it’s my SHIRT and it’s the proper day and it fits just right and is super lightweight and I will worry about mending it when the hole gets bigger (or when someone offers to do it for me 😅) 😂

So, yeah, that was a crazy/chaotic two hours of pure stress for no reason. And DAMN I hate my brain sometimes (like needing a pajama rotation!) but DAMN I love it sometimes (like saving a holey shirt!) and it was just a wild ride.

So here are the shirts, the original on the left (you can tell it was in a drawer cuz the fold lines while the one on the right was on a hanger 😂) and a picture of me being so damn proud of myself for essentially being a hoarder 😅

And if you ever, EVER, happen to see the Her Universe Jedi Napper Yoda Lounge Tank in a Medium on poshmark or ebay or any of those sites, please let me know so I can snatch it up 😂

[ciaossu-imagines]

Hi. I recently discovered your blog and I love it. The HOMRA playing Monopoly headcanons made me chuckle a few times, especially since I could perfectly imagine it all happening. If it’s not too much trouble, could you do some headcanons for Bandō helping his s/o through their period symptoms? Like mainly pain and feeling really down for no reason. It’s just tiring for them because they know they can’t do anything about it, so some comfort could be nice. Thanks in advance and have a wonderful day.

Aww, that’s really sweet of you to say, anon dear! Thank you for the compliment and the cute ask! Periods can be killer and I love imagining these types of situations happening because it should be one of those common-place and cutely domestic things that are happening in every relationship where one (or both) members get their periods! I hope you’ll enjoy the headcanons!

Bando knows nothing about periods when he first starts dating his partner, especially since I think it’ll likely be his first serious partner. He’s so ignorant of what’s going on when his partner and the mood swings or the sad moments they have are really going to fuck with him. He’ll end up taking it really personally at first. Did he do something? Are they sad because of him? What did he do; just tell him so he can fix it…

His partner will really have to be very clear to him what’s going on, explaining that they’re on their period and they’re in pain so they’re a little cranky or they’re feeling really sad and that this happens a lot with their periods and it’s nothing he had done to cause it. But he still doesn’t really understand.

And that not understanding kind of really affects Bando because I think he’s the kind of person who hates being ignorant about anything, especially when it comes to his partner because he’ll want to be able to know and understand everything when it comes to them because they are a pretty big part of his life and other than HOMRA, will be the thing he cares about the most and having that understanding and that bond will really matter to him.

But he has a lot of pride as well and he’s definitely going to play off his overreaction to it all as just a joke or no big deal and he’ll pretend he understands it all completely. But, legitimately, he pretends but then I can definitely see Bando going home and spending the full night googling stuff like ‘period sad’, ‘period pain’, ‘how to stop period’, ‘how to get rid of period pain’, ‘how to make girlfriend happy on period’, and, just because he’ll kind of be really interested in this particular thing, ‘can you have sex on period’ and ‘will sex help period pain’.

Could he just ask his partner what would make them feel better on their period? Of course! But is he going to do that? Fuck no. It’d be admitting he didn’t know what to do and Bando really wants his partner to kind of admire him and think of him as someone who can solve any problem.

He takes so many notes and tries everything he can think of to help his partner with their period. He’s trying every trick or tip he read on the internet, with varying success, and he’s so lost whenever one of them doesn’t work because the internet told him it would so why isn’t this working? Why doesn’t his partner feel better? He’s just so nervous and so stressed out those first couple of months until he figures out exactly what makes his partner feel better when they’re on their period.

Once he knows, and if his partner is at all regular in their cycles, he definitely starts getting all the things he knows they’ll want ready the week before their period is supposed to start.

He’d be so down for cuddling during his partner’s period if that helps them at all and he’d try to make them feel better with compliments but he’s so, so incredibly awkward with his words so his compliments come out making zero sense or kind of sound not at all like compliments so his partner will have to really understand who Bando is and the intentions behind the words.

As much as he tries to be a good guy to a partner who’s on their period, I still feel like he wouldn’t want to go out and buy his partner’s tampons or pads because he finds it really embarrassing and a little emasculating, even though he knows logically that it’s not. But if he is ever forced to do so, you know Bando is that jackass calling or texting his partner, being all ‘so what size pussy do you have? Like is it regular, super, what?’. He really does not get the markings on all these boxes. Is this some sort of secret language that all menstruating individuals have?? Because it’s all Greek to him.

Also, he will very much kind of freak out if his partner leaves a bloody pad or tampon in the garbage without wrapping it because that kind of thing will kind of gross him out, though he gets better at being less grossed out the longer he’s with a partner. Still will always low-key gross him out though.

[writertothemaximum]

hiii i just wanted to say that your writing makes my day and it has always been delightful to read some of your pieces to the point i'm re-reading them ;o;;

do you mind if i ask what your writing process behind one shots and longfics are?

;w; omg thank you so much, the fact that you are taking the time to reread makes me so happy, I always wonder which pieces of my writing stand out to people more than others...It's useful info for me to continue improving, as well.

My process of writing longfic and oneshots is relatively similar, but with a few key differences!

(More under the cut)

For writing program, I just use Google Docs, but I have it a bit customized so it looks like this:

The main thing that helps me is the dark mode, and the endless page, because I only post online, so page view doesn't really help me, much.

Either with longfic or oneshots, my inspirations usually come from art that I see, but I always try to think of a distinct "theme" whenever I write anything, and have every single point connect back to that "theme" or idea, no matter how trivial it is. This theme can be literally anything, but usually it's something like "I want to write about the different ways people handle loss of control" or "I think fingering buttholes is hot, so I'm going to try and make it as hot as I possibly can, so that other people can understand how hot it is."

I see characters as tools to tell a good story, and regardless of how much porn is there, it still needs to be a good story, you know! If you just wanted senseless fucking, why would you read it when you could go watch porn? I need to give the reader that reason.

I also really like to write themes that subvert expectations, or force the audience to see a new perspective that they might have not otherwise considered. My femdom works as an example of that, as I would often read femdom self-insert fiction I felt was......."wrong"? idk, it wasn't hot to me, and it didn't feel like my kind of femdom. So I put my skills to where my mouth was and! I think it turned out well!

So once I have that theme or general idea (and by this point, it's usually pretty easy to select/create the characters that fit that), I make a rough outline. For oneshots, this is usually just in my head, unless there's a really specific scene in mind? But for longfic, I plan out....a lot. Not everything, but my outline for Niki's (Morbid) Kitchen was around 5.5k before starting so uh.

My outline usually consists of bullet points so, it'll be like this:

-This is the location/conflict

>chara does something

"Hey, you should probably use this dialogue"

-this happens next (oh no)

Or something along those lines.

Then, after that, I just fill it all in!

Occasionally, I will write without an outline but uh...yeah it can get messy, so I prefer to use one.

I've been told that I edit as I go, and I usually reread as I write. I hate completed drafts sitting there, so I often miss a lot of stuff when I do a light proofread, so I apologize for any typos you've seen. Feel free to point them out in my comments or in an ask here.

When it comes to the prose itself, I write in third person limited, past tense so uh—Third person, but also from a character's perspective. I like to see it as them telling me the story.

Additionally, something that helps me a lot is to think about "Show, not tell," so if a character is stressed, instead of just. saying that they're stressed, they will cross their arms, their heartbeat increases, and they start saying meaner things. Something like that.

I like to think about how I, or people I know would react to a situation, and also what reaction would help connect best to that theme I decided at the beginning.

If you don't already know, I am working on a longfic called Niki's (Morbid) Kitchen, featuring Niki as a cannibal and Hiiro as a budding yandere. If you'd like to read it, you can here:

Well, I hope this gave you some insight, and thank you again for reading!

[fishbrainrot]

The room is messy. All the things he's been using recently left somewhere in the chaos. This morning he was still telling himself that he could find everything, that there was some method in it. But looking ferociously for notes that should be in the desk's drawer because they always are but somehow now they mysteriously disappeared, Charlie started to doubt. Or maybe it was a matter of takeout boxes growing in a pile next to the couch. He should throw them away. He should have thrown them away at least a week ago. The smell is unpleasant, but at times like this, he doesn't seem to care. His life is a mess. Probably bigger than the room itself. He barely sees the floor just like he barely sees himself in a year, month, or even a week. Dealing with such mundane problems is tiring, and he is so exhausted already. He'll do it tomorrow. Tomorrow he'll sort out everything, the new job included.

Does mom know? Did she see everything on the news? He isn't even sure how big the whole thing is. Probably he should google it, check if the problem escalated, what kind of shit he needs to deal with. Thinking about it makes him dizzy. Maybe he should call home. It's been too long, if he won't do this, they will. And a battle is easier if you're choosing the time and place. Too bad, he's more of a writer than a fighter. A pale smile crawls on his lips. A terrible rhyme and it's not even true. He hasn't written anything in a long time. Maybe he should. Especially now, when he's about to lose the job. No one can stop him. Well, maybe bills can. You've gotta pay for a living, and writing shitty articles about the supernatural usually isn't enough. But maybe going back to research he'll feel excitement again. Maybe he'll find answers. And maybe he'll even move on. He wasn't sure if he wanted though. No mysteries - no thrill, nothing to chase, nothing to cherish. Only awfully cluttered house smelling like old food and mold. And boredom. Endless, aimless boredom. But it's a problem for the future. Now, he has to pay his bills.

The phone vibrates somewhere deep under two blankets. He never used an actual ring, always only vibrations. No charming person has ever made his heart flutter as much as the sudden noise of phone ringing. He hesitates. Vibrations are running through his skin in rhythmical waves. Stress crawls onto his neck.

"Hey," his voice is more hoarse than he expected. That's what you get after days of silence, talking only to a delivery guy. He tries to clear his throat.

"Charles! It's been a week. Are you alright?" Mother's worried, he hears it in her voice. But there's also something cold in it. He's not sure if she's angry because of the silence or the interview. His stomach twists in anxiety.

"I'm fine," he lies as always. It's easier to hide things from her. Fewer questions, no judgment, and a reasonable amount of freedom. Hopefully, she'll never find out.

"And nothing happened recently that you'd like to talk about?" She knows. Anxiety in cold needles pierces his neck. Fuck.

"No," his voice is calm, seemingly indifferent.

"Are you sure?" She knows.

"Yes, mom."

"Why are you lying to me?" There she goes. "I've seen it." How? Last year she couldn't even find a fish recipe online. Anger starts to rise in his chest. Cold and bitter. "Tom found it on the internet." The only thing his brother should be looking for is his own place to live. "Tell me they've manipulated the video."

"I don't know." A wide smile stretches his lips. Nervous and nasty.

"You don't know." She's getting angry. He doesn't want this but there's a quiet voice deep down his chest that craves an argument. One thing's sure- he'll regret that later.

"No. Not really a thing I'd like to rewatch."

"Well, those are your words. Why even say it if you regret it?"

"I don't." Not exactly true. "I'm just ashamed," he admits eventually. It's a weird feeling to be ashamed of something you believe in. It's the part of himself Charlie hates the most. His life would be easier if he could hold his head high, confident and unapologetic. Choosing his own discomfort is easier than bearing the displeased eyes of others. It's the shame that grows deep in his soul.

"As you should be. Did your boss say anything?"

"Not yet." And the waiting is the worst. When there's no distraction he remembers about it.

"Oh, God. Okay, if they fire you, we'll find you a nice, respectable one for a change. It'll be fine, sweetheart. You just-"

"I like my job," he'd like to sound sharp but his voice comes out completely flat. The same old talk. Like a broken record.

"You're meddling with dead people's things, honey." She's so condescending and she doesn't even realize it. Or maybe she does. He's not sure what would be worse.

"I'm looking for evidence."

"Which is-" He's patiently waiting for her to find the right word. "Courageous? But also creeps people out. That's why you're still alone."

"I'm not." How many times he's got to relive this conversation? Is it some kind of purgatory? His thoughts are slowly drifting in a different direction.

"You need someone to spend your life with." Preferably a smart, hardworking woman who loves sports, doesn't mind him being quiet or distant, and dreams about a terraced house at a reasonable price where she could raise their two children. Right. What a dream.

"I'm managing." He'd love to be right at this moment. He's not. But there's an unshakable belief in him that it's gonna be fine. Eventually. He doesn't know how but he's getting there.

"You're about to lose your job." He can't respond to that. "How old are you, Charles?"

"Twenty-nine," the answer bearly leaves his throat. It's not a battle he's going to win. Not this time.

"And you're still looking for ghosts, vampires-"

"Unexplained events."

"Right. It's time to grow up."

"Have you-" He hesitates. The right question can change your life, it worked for him so why not for others? Maybe if he could turn his thoughts into a coherent sentence, she would listen. Maybe after all those years, they could understand each other. But his head feels like a busy hive, buzzing with shattered ideas and memories. He could start with that summer when he saw it for the first time, in aunt's old shack. With the overwhelming fear that makes you freeze because there's nowhere to run. With the need to explain what's happened. The fear it'll come to never leave you again. The mysteries, the thrill of a question no one could answer. But simple explanations are usually right. What's the easiest way to explain what he's seen? Losing sanity. He has to say something. And she can't think he's going nuts. "Have you ever loved something so much that you weren't able to stop?" He thinks about the excitement, the natural happiness that research brings. That's the only thing he's ever been good at. Asking questions and searching for every dumb detail. That's how he's got himself into this mess.

"No." For a moment it's quiet. He thoughtlessly listens to gurgling pipes, allowing the disappointment to sink in.

"Alright then." Maybe there's no right question.

"No, please, do tell me." She's mad but now he feels empty. There's no angry voice.

"It doesn't matter." He's so tired.

"Get over yourself, son. Let me know what they'll say. Remember, we love you." He hangs up. Once again there's only the smell of mold, the sound of water running in the walls, and exhaustion. His thoughts run to the past, to the moments he can't forget nor explain. It would be nice to focus on something else, let himself rest but when this train is running, it's impossible to stop. Eventually, he'll fall asleep. Tomorrow will be better. He'll get up and throw away the boxes, maybe even clean up a bit. This he'll manage. He'll manage for sure.

[moondonky]

By design

U ever wonder If it's all done on purpose, what are the odds,, u might say whats wrong with these people, how could that happen, can u believe this.. I wouldn't it's all psychological, its all programming, it's all influenced.. it's all depopulation in one way or anouther, payed promotion as if it's style or fashion or what's cool, algorithms decides what's trending, and those who go against are targeted and isolated, that' becomes the ick, that's toxic, ur not allowed to be dangerous why there are no warriors left, but u can be pretty as shit, viewed as smart for not working, that's for peasants, u just need to get rich and famous, u just need to take those risks, act like this, fake it till u make it helps if u suck dick act bitch, and while ur busy doing that what u not doing is starting families and working saving for a home, advancing in a career, paying into social security and being a service to better ur communities, but it's cool and okay to smoke weed and game, tho they get cheated on because it's attention women have been programmed to crave for the same reason, to break the family, why theres so many single mothers they queens that can always do better, isn't that what memes and reels always say, maybe a couple of them will find that unrealistic standard, maybe in the meantime get a dog or cat or anouther expense cuz that helps when ur already broke as shit, living with roomates like kids, to bad theses credit scores arnt as high as these body counts lol, live above your means and u won't afford retirement, ain't no peace of mind with a 50k sub prime car loan payment on top of 3 4k rent, and again can u afford to have a child, sounds like stress, and that dude that knows all this and works hard he's a asshole depressed workaholic he's a cismale incel according to Google even tho he's the one that can actually raise a family that fucking slave peasant lol he still got balls he can't wear tight pants n shit, and it's by design it's the algorithms, its what ur influencers and idols get paid to promote, do sum zans yanno shoot em up.. there making and programming people to fail and its by design, no wonder the struggle is so real..

Effin millennial why not, mgtow I'm blind to what people think and all there labels, I eat 30 steaks a month just because they don't like that, I have three cars cuz they don't like that, I sleep on the floor cuz I guess u need a headboard, I buy every dip in crypto because fuk the system, I always drive over the speed limit cuz I'm not a self driving robot or an old person, I sleep with a shotgun I call her my purse, I don't buy toys and video games I buy silver cuz of the constitution,, I like cops just not fat ones, I like military and war just not mercenaries, u give me one good reason and I will punch u in the face, I'm stubborn af I'm at every protest just to hear sum yelling, 4th of July is the only holiday I actually celebrate.. cuz bang bang bang I got a mustache and a Mohawk mane,, praise God and fuk china, no rest for the wicked, bitch ass sock chewing hooooeeez lol

[letstrywritingmaybe]

Starting to think me being productive is the reason for my sports woes, so maybe I should stop writing. Meanwhile I finally wrote snow on the beach for midnights. I’m gonna chill for real though and read my books I got from the library that I haven’t touched yet

Update: I know I said no writing. But I just have to note googling lawyer from reading through emails to make sure they’re not divorce lawyers as an idea. Group chat convos that are not fandom related can also lead to great inspo

Update 2: still very much stuck on this ship and got no reading done. It hasn’t even been a full day. Good news is I wrapped all of my Christmas presents! And I have no desire to write so I guess I’m still going strong on the no more writing and see if that ends my sports woes. Will still be doing my regular updates though. And while I’m here, I reread my green card au today and it’s so self indulgent, I’m so happy I wrote it. I was kinda stressed while writing it and I wasn’t super happy with the ending at first, but when I went to reread it today I was like you know what? This reads like a shitty drama, and I’m okay with that. I mean I used to watch terrible dramas all the time, and I liked some of them. They can’t compare to the really good ones, but they have their moments. So yeah. I’m glad I wrote it and included American references cause it’s what I know

Update 3: I know I have no business saying shit cause I’ve written it before, but idk if I could see them cheating tbh. At least not in canon, which kinda gave me an idea that’s semi similar to a fic I read before… but I digress cause I’m still on my own writers strike. I think I’ve been ruined by the summer series and the vampire diaries, I’m really not fond of brothers fighting for the same person. Even if that person is my queen, it’s just so messy! So awkward too once you get past the initial stuff that people find intriguing about love triangles. Best case scenario in my eyes will always be the person they fight over doesn’t choose either and the brothers are cool again. But that never happens. I’m very family oriented so it just makes me sad to think that it fucks everything up. I know I’ve written about messy ship drama, but I don’t think I’m fond of reading it. Even when I’m writing it myself I’m kinda just like why is this happening? I don’t enjoy the process, but sometimes the story calls for it. Cause my fics write themselves and have a mind of their own. Idk I would just rather it be a non family member fighting for my queen. Plus in the context of shinshi versus CoShi, shinshi wins every time for me. I like when they both take the antidote or they both stay as their shrunken forms. I like when they’re equals. It’s literally the reason why I’ve never written a ShinAi fic despite it being popular. I hate the idea of it. I’m such a hater of the canon ship that I hate them even getting a shot for like ten years while my queen doesn’t get to move on. That’s so unfair. I would much rather she get to date and try and fall in love with other people too, instead of just waiting for him to turn around and realize he loves her. *sigh I just read some fics and I’m having mixed feelings, so I’m venting here cause I’m not an asshole who says mean shit in comments. Easiest way to get on my shit list is to hide behind screens and spread hatred, we get enough of that irl

Update 4: I was onto something about not writing to end my sports woes! My pens won!!! And we scored TWO Power Play Goals!!!! And a shortie!!! And it was big Jeff Carter!??!!?? Alright, I guess I should never write again. But to celebrate I will probably post the last chapter of devour so I can wrap up another wip