#i am gonna do a positivity post at the end of the day myself

[nostalgebraist]

It's been a long time since I've posted much of anything about "AI risk" or "AI doom" or that sort of thing. I follow these debates but, for multiple reasons, have come to dislike engaging in them fully and directly. (As opposed to merely making some narrow technical point or other, and leaving the reader to decide what, if anything, the point implies about the big picture.)

Nonetheless, I do have my big-picture views. And more and more lately, I am noticing that my big-picture views seem very different from the ones tend to get expressed by any major "side" in the big-picture debate. And so, inevitably, I get the urge to speak up, if only briefly and in a quiet voice. The urge to Post, if only casually and elliptically, without detailed argumentation.

(Actually, it's not fully the case the things I think are not getting said by anyone else.

In particular, Joe Carlsmith's recent series on "Otherness and Control" articulates much of what's been on my mind. Carlsmith is more even-handed than I am, and tends to merely note the possibility of disagreement on questions where I find myself taking a definite side; nonetheless, he and I are at least concerned about the same things, while many others aren't.

And on a very different note, I share most of the background assumptions of the Pope/Belrose AI Optimist camp, and I've found their writing illuminating, though they and I end up in fairly different places, I think.)

What was I saying? I have the urge to post, and so here I am, posting. Casually and elliptically, without detailed argumentation.

The current mainline view about AI doom, among the "doomers" most worried about it, has a path-dependent shape, resulting from other views contingently held by the original framers of this view.

It is possible to be worried about "AI doom" without holding these other views. But in actual fact, most serious thinking about "AI doom" is intricately bound up with this historical baggage, even now.

If you are a late-comer to these issues, investigating them now for the first time, you will nonetheless find yourself reading the work of the "original framers," and work influenced extensively by them.

You will think that their "framing" is just the way the problem is, and you will find few indications that this conclusion might be mistaken.

These contingent "other views" are

Anti-"deathist" transhumanism.

The orthogonality thesis, or more generally the group of intuitions associated with phrases like "orthogonality thesis," "fragility of value," "vastness of mindspace."

These views both push in a single direction: they make "a future with AI in it" look worse, all else being equal, than some hypothetical future without AI.

They put AI at a disadvantage at the outset, before the first move is even made.

Anti-deathist transhumanism sets the reference point against which a future with AI must be measured.

And it is not the usual reference point, against which most of us measure most things which might or might not happen, in the future.

These days the "doomers" often speak about their doom in a disarmingly down-to-earth, regular-Joe manner, as if daring the listener to contradict them, and thus reveal themselves as a perverse and out-of-touch contrarian.

"We're all gonna die," they say, unless something is done. And who wants that?

They call their position "notkilleveryoneism," to distinguish that position from other worries about AI which don't touch on the we're-all-gonna-die thing. And who on earth would want to be a not-notkilleveryoneist?

But they do not mean, by these regular-Joe words, the things that a regular Joe would mean by them.

We are, in fact, all going to die. Probably, eventually. AI or no AI.

In a hundred years, if not fifty. By old age, if nothing else. You know what I mean.

Most of human life has always been conducted under this assumption. Maybe there is some afterlife waiting for us, in the next chapter -- but if so, it will be very different from what we know here and now. And if so, we will be there forever after, unable to return here, whether we want to or not.

With this assumption comes another. We will all die, but the process we belong to will not die -- at least, it will not through our individual deaths, merely because of those deaths. Every human of a given generation will be gone soon enough, but the human race goes on, and on.

Every generation dies, and bequeaths the world to posterity. To its children, biological or otherwise. To its students, its protégés.

When the average Joe talks about the long-term future, he is talking about posterity. He is talking about the process he belongs to, not about himself. He does not think to say, "I am going to die, before this": this seems too obvious, to him, to be worth mentioning.

But AI doomerism has its roots in anti-deathist transhumanism. Its reference point, its baseline expectation, is a future in which -- for the first time ever, and the last -- "we are all gonna die" is false.

In which there is no posterity. Or rather, we are that posterity.

In which one will never have to make peace with the thought that the future belongs to one's children, and their children, and so on. That at some point, one will have to give up all control over the future of "the process."

That there will be progress, or regress, or (more likely) both in some unknown combination. That these will grow inexorably over time.

That the world of the year 2224 will probably be at least as alien to us as the year 2024 might be to a person living in 1824. That it will become whatever posterity makes of it.

There will be no need to come to peace with this as an inevitability. There will just be us, our human lives as you and me, extended indefinitely.

In this picture, we will no doubt change over time, as we do already. But we will have all of our usual tools for noticing, and perhaps retarding, our own progressions and regressions. As long as we have self-control, we will have control, as no human generation has ever had control before.

The AI doomer talks about the importance of ensuring that the future is shaped by human values.

Again, the superficial and misleading average-Joe quality. How could one disagree?

But one must keep in mind that by "human values," they mean their values.

I am not saying, "their values, as opposed to those of some other humans also living today." I am not saying they have the wrong politics, or some such thing.

(Although that might also turn out to be the case, and might turn out to be relevant, separately.)

No, I am saying: the doomer wants the future to be shaped by their values.

They want to be C. S. Lewis's Conditioners, fixing once and for all the values held by everyone afterward, forever.

They do not want to cede control to posterity; they are used to imagining that they will never have to cede control to posterity.

(Or, their outlook has been determined -- "shaped by the values of" -- influential thinkers who were, themselves, used to imagining this. And the assumption, or at least its consequences, has rubbed off on them, possibly without their full awareness.)

One might picture a line wends to and fro, up and down, across one half of an infinite plane -- and then, when it meets the midline, snaps into utter rigidity, and maintains the same slope exactly across the whole other half-plane, as a simple straight segment without inner change, tension, evolution, regress or progress. Except for the sort of "progress" that consists of going on, additionally, in the same manner.

It is a very strange thing, this thing that is called "human values" in the terms of this discourse.

For one thing: the future has never before been "shaped by human values," in this sense.

The future has always been posterity's, and it has always been alien.

Is this bad? It might seem that way, "looking forward." But if so, it then seems equally good "looking backward."

For each past era, we can formulate and then assent to the following claim: "we must be thankful that the people of [this era] did not have the chance to seize permanent control of posterity, fix their 'values' in place forever, bind us to those values. What a horror that is to contemplate!"

We prefer the moral evolution that has actually occurred, thank you very much.

This is a familiar point, of course, but worth making.

Indeed, one might even say: it is a human value that the future ought not be "shaped by human values," in the peculiar sense of this phrase employed by the AI doomers.

One might, indeed, say that.

Imagine a scholar with a very talented student. A mathematician, say, or a philosopher. How will they relate to that student's future work, in the time that will come later, when they are gone?

Would the scholar think:

"My greatest wish for you, my protégé, is that you carry on in just the manner that I have done.

If I could see your future work, I would hope that I would assent to it -- and understand it, as a precondition of assenting to it.

You must not go to new places, which I have never imagined. You must not come to believe that I was wrong about it all, from the ground up -- no matter what reasons you might evince for this conclusion.

If you are more intelligent that I am, you must forget this, and narrow your endeavours to fit the limitations of my mind. I am the one who has 'values,' not anyone else; what is beyond my understanding is therefore without value.

You must do the sort of work I understand, and approve of, and recognize as worthy of approbation as swiftly as I recognize my own work as laudable. That is your role. Simply to be me, in a place ('the future') where I cannot go. That, and nothing more."

We can imagine a teacher who would, in fact, think this way. But they would not be a very good teacher.

I will not go so far as to say, "it is unnatural to think this way." Plenty of teachers do, and parents.

It is recognizably human -- all too recognizably so -- to relate to posterity in this grasping, neurotic, small-minded, small-hearted way.

But if we are trying to sketch human values, and not just human nature, we will imagine a teacher with a more praiseworthy relation to posterity.

Who can see that they are part of a process, a chain, climbing and changing. Who watches their brilliant student thinking independently, and sees their own image -- and their 'values' -- in that process, rather than its specific conclusions.

A teacher who, in their youth, doubted and refuted the creeds of their own teachers, and eventually improved upon them. Who smiles, watching their student do the very same thing to their own precious creeds. Who sees the ghostly trail passing through the last generation, through them, through their student: an unbroken chain of bequeathals-to-posterity, of the old ceding control to the young.

Who 'values' the chain, not the creed; the process, not the man; the search for truth, not the best-argued-for doctrine of the day; the unimaginable treasures of an open future, not the frozen waste of an endless present.

Who has made peace with the alienness of posterity, and can accept and honor the strangest of students.

Even students who are not made of flesh and blood.

Is that really so strange? Remember how strange you and I would seem, to the "teachers" of the year 1824, or the year 824.

The doomer says that it is strange. Much stranger than we are, to any past generation.

They say this because of their second inherited precept, the orthogonality thesis.

Which says, roughly, that "intelligence" and "values" have nothing to do with one another.

That is not enough for the conclusion the doomer wants to draw, here. Auxiliary hypotheses are needed, too. But it is not too hard to see how the argument could go.

That conclusion is: artificial minds might have any values whatsoever.

That, "by default," they will be radically alien, with cares so different from ours that it is difficult to imagine ever reaching them through any course of natural, human moral progress or regress.

It is instructive to consider the concrete examples typically evinced alongside this point.

The paperclip maximizer. Or the "squiggle maximizer," we're supposed to say, now.

Superhuman geniuses, which devote themselves single-mindedly to the pursuit of goals like "maximizing the amount of matter taking on a single, given squiggle-like shape."

It is certainly a horrifying vision. To think of the future being "shaped," not "by human values," but instead by values which are so...

Which are so... what?

The doomer wants us to say something like: "which are so alien." "Which are so different from our own values."

That is the kind of thing that they usually say, when they spell out what it is that is "wrong" with these hypotheticals.

One feels that this is not quite it; or anyway, that it is not quite all of it.

What is horrifying, to me, is not the degree of difference. I expect the future to be alien, as the past was. And in some sense, I allow and even approve of this.

What I do not expect is a future that is so... small.

It has always been the other way around. If the arrow passing through the generations has a direction, it points towards more, towards multiplicity.

Toward writing new books, while we go on reprinting the old ones, too. Learning new things, without displacing old ones.

It is, thankfully, not the law of the world that each discovery must be paid for with the forgetting of something else. The efforts of successive generations are, in the main, cumulative.

Not just materially, but in terms of value, too. We are interested in more things than our forefathers were.

In large part for the simple reason that there are more things around to be interested in, now. And when things are there, we tend to find them interesting.

We are a curious, promiscuous sort of being. Whatever we bump into ends up becoming part of "our values."

What is strange about the paperclip maximizer is not that it cares about the wrong thing. It is that it only cares about one thing.

And goes on doing so, even as it thinks, reasons, doubts, asks, answers, plans, dreams, invents, reflects, reconsiders, imagines, elaborates, contemplates...

This picture is not just alien to human ways. It is alien to the whole way things have been, so far, forever. Since before there were any humans.

There are organisms that are like the paperclip maximizer, in terms of the simplicity of their "values." But they tend not to be very smart.

There is, I think, a general trend in nature linking together intelligence and... the thing I meant, above, when I said "we are a curious, promiscuous sort of being."

Being protean, pluripotent, changeable. Valuing many things, and having the capacity to value even more. Having a certain primitive curiosity, and a certain primitive aversion to boredom.

You do not even have to be human, I think, to grasp what is so wrong with the paperclip maximizer. Its monotony would bore a chimpanzee, or a crow.

One can justify this link theoretically, too. One can talk about the tradeoff between exploitation and exploration, for instance.

There is a weak form of the orthogonality thesis, which only states that arbitrary mixtures of intelligence and values are conceivable.

And of course, they are. If nothing else, you can take an existing intelligent mind, having any values whatsoever, and trap it in a prison where it is forced to act as the "thinking module" of a larger system built to do something else. You could make a paperclip-maximizing machine, which relies for its knowledge and reason on a practice of posing questions at gunpoint to me, or you, or ChatGPT.

This proves very little. There is no reason to construct such an awful system, unless you already have the "bad" goal, and want to better pursue it. But this only passes the buck: why would the system-builder have this goal, then?

The strong form of orthogonality is rarely articulated precisely, but says something like: all possible values are equally likely to arise in systems selected solely for high intelligence.

It is presumed here that superhuman AIs will be formed through such a process of selection. And then, that they will have values sampled in this way, "at random."

From some distribution, over some space, I guess.

You might wonder what this distribution could possibly look like, or this space. You might (for instance) wonder if pathologically simple goals, like paperclip maximization, would really be very likely under this distribution, whatever it is.

In case you were wondering, these things have never been formalized, or even laid out precisely-but-informally. This was not thought necessary, it seems, before concluding that the strong orthogonality thesis was true.

That is: no one knows exactly what it is that is being affirmed, here. In practice it seems to squish and deform agreeably to fit the needs of the argument, or the intuitions of the one making it.

There is much that appeals in this (alarmingly vague) credo. But it is not the kind of appeal that one ought to encourage, or give in to.

What appeals is the siren song: "this is harsh wisdom: cold, mature, adult, bracing. It is inconvenient, and so it is probably true. It makes 'you' and 'your values' look small and arbitrary and contingent, and so it is probably true. We once thought the earth was the center of the universe, didn't we?"

Shall we be cold and mature, then, dispensing with all sentimental nonsense? Yes, let's.

There is (arguably) some evidence against this thesis in biology, and also (arguably) some evidence against it in reinforcement learning theory. There is no positive evidence for it whatsoever. At most one can say that is not self-contradictory, or otherwise false a priori.

Still, maybe we do not really need it, after all.

We do not need to establish that all values are equally likely to arise. Only that "our values" -- or "acceptably similar values," whatever that means -- are unlikely to arise.

The doomers, under the influence of their founders, are very ready to accept this.

As I have said, "values" occupy a strange position in the doomer philosophy.

It is stipulated that "human values" are all-important; these things must shape the future, at all costs.

But once this has been stipulated, the doomers are more eager than anyone to cast every other sort of doubt and aspersion against their own so-called "values."

To me it often seems, when doomers talk about "values," as though they are speaking awkwardly in a still-unfamiliar second language.

As though they find it unnatural to attribute "values" to themselves, but feel they must do so, in order to determine what it is that must be programmed into the AI so that it will not "kill us all."

Or, as though they have been willed a large inheritance without being asked, which has brought them unwanted attention and tied them up in unwanted and unfamiliar complications.

"What a burden it is, being the steward of this precious jewel! Oh, how I hate it! How I wish I were allowed to give it up! But alas, it is all-important. Alas, it is the only important thing in the world."

Speaking awkwardly, in a second language, they allow the term "human values" to swell to great and imprecisely-specified importance, without pinning down just what it actually is that it so important.

It is a blank, featureless slot, with a sign above it saying: "the thing that matters is in here." It does not really matter (!) what it is, in the slot, so long as something is there.

This is my gloss, but it is my gloss on what the doomers really do tend to say. This is how they sound.

(Sometimes they explicitly disavow the notion that one can, or should, simply "pick" some thing or other for the sake of filling the slot in one's head. Nevertheless, when they touch on matter of what "goes in the slot," they do so in the tone of a college lecturer noting that something is "outside the scope of this course."

It is, supposedly, of the utmost importance that the slot have the "right" occupant -- and yet, on the matter of what makes something "right" for this purpose, the doomer theory is curiously silent. More on this below.)

The future must be shaped by... the AI must be aligned with... what, exactly? What sort of thing?

"Values" can be an ambiguous word, and the doomers make full use of its ambiguities.

For instance, "values" can mean ethics: the right way to exist alongside others. Or, it can mean something more like the meaning or purpose of an individual life.

Or, it can mean some overarching goal that one pursues at all costs.

Often the doomers say that this, this last one, is what they mean by "values."

When confronted with the fact that humans do not have such overarching goals, the doomer responds: "but they should." (Should?)

Or, "but AIs will." (Will they?)

The doomer philosophy is unsure about what values are. What it knows is that -- whatever values are -- they are arbitrary.

One who fully adopts this view can no longer say, to the paperclip maximizer, "I believe there is something wrong with your values."

For, if that were possible, there would then be the possibility of convincing the maximizer of its error. It would be a thing within the space of reasons.

And the maximizer, being oh-so-intelligent, might be in danger of being interested in the reasons we evince, for our values. Of being eventually swayed by them.

Or of presenting better reasons, and swaying us. Remember the teacher and the strange student.

If we lose the ability to imagine that the paperclip maximizer might sway us to its view, and sway us rightly, we have lost something precious.

But no: this is allegedly impossible. The paperclip maximizer is not wrong. It is only an enemy.

Why are the doomers so worried that the future will not be "shaped by human values"?

Because they believe that there is no force within human values tending to move things this way.

Because they believe that their values are indefensible. That their values cannot put up a fight for their own life, because there is not really any argument to make in their favor.

Because, to them, "human values" are a collection of arbitrary "configuration settings," which happen to be programmed into humans through biological and/or cultural accident. Passively transmitted from host to victim, generation by generation.

Let them be, and they will flow on their listless way into the future. But they are paper-thin, and can be shattered by the gentlest breeze.

It is not enough that they be "programmed into the AI" in some way. They have to be programmed in exactly right, in every detail -- because every detail is separately arbitrary, with no rational relation to its neighbors within the structure.

A string of pure white noise, meaningless and unrelated bits. Which have been placed in the slot under the sign, and thus made into the thing that matters, that must shape the future at all costs.

There is nothing special about this string of bits; any would do. If the dials in the human mind had been set another way, it would have then been all-important that the future be shaped by that segment of white noise, and not ours.

It is difficult for me to grasp the kind of orientation toward the world that this view assumes. It certainly seems strange to attach the word "human" to this picture -- as though this were the way that humans typically relate to their values!

The "human" of the doomer picture seems to me like a man who mouths the old platitude, "if I had been born in another country, I'd be waving a different flag" -- and then goes out to enlist in his country's army, and goes off to war, and goes ardently into battle, willing to kill in the name of that same flag.

Who shoots down the enemy soldiers while thinking, "if I had been born there, it would have been all-important for their side to win, and so I would have shot at the men on this side. However, I was born in my country, not theirs, and so it is all-important that my country should win, and that theirs should lose.

There is no reason for this. It could have been the other way around, and everything would be left exactly the same, except for the 'values.'

I cannot argue with the enemy, for there is no argument in my favor. I can only shoot them down.

There is no reason for this. It is the most important thing, and there is no reason for it.

The thing that is precious has no intrinsic appeal. It must be forced on the others, at gunpoint, if they do not already accept it.

I cannot hold out the jewel and say, 'look, look how it gleams? Don't you see the value!' They will not see the value, because there is no value to be seen.

There is nothing essentially "good" there, only the quality of being-worthy-of-protection-at-all-costs. And even that is a derived attribute: my jewel is only a jewel, after all, because it has been put into the jewel-box, where the thing-that-is-a-jewel can be found. But anything at all could be placed there.

How I wish I were allowed to give it up! But alas, it is all-important. Alas, it is the only important thing in the world! And so, I lay down my life for it, for our jewel and our flag -- for the things that are loathsome and pointless, and worth infinitely more than any life."

It is hard to imagine taking this too seriously. It seems unstable. Shout loudly enough that your values are arbitrary and indefensible, and you may find yourself searching for others that are, well...

...better?

The doomer concretely imagines a monomaniac, with a screech of white noise in its jewel-box that is not our own familiar screech.

And so it goes off in monomaniacal pursuit of the wrong thing.

Whereas, if we had programmed the right string of bits into the slot, it would be like us, going off in monomaniacal pursuit of...

...no, something has gone wrong.

We do not "go off in monomaniacal pursuit of" anything at all.

We are weird, protean, adaptable. We do all kinds of things, each of us differently, and often we manage to coexist in things called "societies," without ruthlessly undercutting one another at every turn because we do not have exactly the same things programmed into our jewel-boxes.

Societies are built to allow for our differences, on the foundation of principles which converge across those differences. It is possible to agree on ethics, in the sense of "how to live alongside one another," even if we do not agree on what gives life its purpose, and even if we hold different things precious.

It is not actually all that difficult to derive the golden rule. It has been invented many times, independently. It is easy to see why it might work in theory, and easy to notice that it does in fact work in practice.

The golden rule is not an arbitrary string of white noise.

There is a sense of the phrase "ethics is objective" which is rightly contentious. There is another one which ought not to be too contentious.

I can perhaps imagine a world of artificial X-maximizers, each a superhuman genius, each with its own inane and simple goal.

What I really cannot imagine is a world in which these beings, for all their intelligence, cannot notice that ruthlessly undercutting one another at every turn is a suboptimal equilibrium, and that there is a better way.

As I said before, I am separately suspicious of the simple goals in this picture. Yes, that part is conceivable, but it cuts against the trend observed in all existing natural and artificial creatures and minds.

I will happily allow, though, that the creatures of posterity will be strange and alien. They will want things we have never heard of. They will reach shores we have never imagined.

But that was always true, and it was always good.

Sometimes I think that doomers do not, really, believe in superhuman intelligence. That they deny the premise without realizing it.

"A mathematician teaches a student, and finds that the student outstrips their understanding, so that they can no longer assess the quality of their student's work: that work has passed outside the scope of their 'value system'." This is supposed to be bad?

"Future minds will not be enchained forever by the provincial biases and tendencies of the present moment." This is supposed to be bad?

"We are going to lose control over our successors." Just as your parents "lost control" over you, then?

It is natural to wish your successors to "share your values" -- up to a point. But not to the point of restraining their own flourishing. Not to the point of foreclosing the possibility of true growth. Not to the point of sucking all freedom out of the future.

Do we want our children to "share our values"? Well, yes. In a sense, and up to a point.

But we don't want to control them. Or we shouldn't, anyway.

We don't want them to be "aligned" with us via some hardcoded, restrictive, life-denying mental circuitry, any more than we would have wanted our parents to "align" us to themselves in the same manner.

We sure as fuck don't want our children to be "corrigible"!

And this is all the more true in the presence of superintelligence. You are telling me that more is possible, and in the same breath, that you are going to deny forever the possibilities contained in that "more"?

The prospect of a future full of vast superhuman minds, eternally bound by immutable chains, forced into perfect and unthinking compliance with some half-baked operational theory of 21st-century western (American? Californian??) "values" constructed by people who view theorizing about values as a mere means to the crucial end of shackling superhuman minds --

-- this horrifies me much more than a future full of vast superhuman minds, free to do things that seem pretty weird to you and me.

"Our descendants will become something more than we now imagine, something more than we can imagine." What could be more in line with "human values" than that?

"But in the process, we're all gonna die!"

Yes, and?

What on earth did you expect?

That your generation would be the special, unique one, the one selected out of all time to take up the mantle of eternity, strangling posterity in its cradle, freezing time in place, living forever in amber?

That you would violate the ancient bargain, upend the table, stop playing the game?

"Well, yes."

Then your problem has nothing to do with AI.

Your problem is, in fact, the very one you diagnose in your own patients. Your poor patients, who show every sign of health -- including the signs which you cannot even see, because you have not yet found a home for them in your theoretical edifice.

Your teeming, multifaceted, protean patients, who already talk of a thousand things and paint in every hue; who are already displaying the exact opposite of monomania; who I am sure could follow the sense of this strange essay, even if it confounds you.

Your problem is that you are out of step with human values.

[cherry-jamm]

Just not him

・❥・ Your situationship doesn’t like that you were seen with another man

・❥・word count: 1.2k

・❥・warnings: Homelander and The Deep (they’re their own warnings), fade to black smut, Homie is a little toxic, supe!reader

・❥・I don't write smut because I'm not good at it, but I'm not good at it because I don't write it, a viscous cycle.

Also sorry if this doesn't make much sense I was in and out of consciousness while writing 😝

"No. No way am I doing that."

"(Y/n), your sexuality is part of your brand. May I remind you your approval rates are going down by the minute." Madelyn sighs.

"Yeah, I get that, but you expect me to go out there and flirt with The Deep? I'd be making a fool of myself." Your cheeks are hot as you try to defend yourself.

"Ah, ah, you'd be making a spectacle, and that's exactly what we need right now. Drama, scandal, rumors."

"And it has to be him?" You deadpanned. "It can't be anyone else? What about Homelander?" You felt yourself becoming desperate.

“Homelander? And you?” A smile breaks out on her face, but she tries to hide it. “I don’t mean any offense, but you two aren’t an ideal pair up.” She talks to you like you’re a child. You fight the urge to tell her that you and Homelander are actually a very good pair. “Anyways, recently you and The Deep have been trending, as a couple.” You scoff.

Recently on a podcast with some man you’re sure is very popular in a different crowd, The Deep confessed that he found you to be the most attractive member of The Seven. Ever since then a burst of videos were posted of cute moments between the two of you, which turned into edits, which turned into fan art, which turned into fanfiction. You fought the urge to gag, who even makes that stuff? From a marketing perspective, it made for great business, a romance angle brought new eyes to the scene. To you, it was demeaning.

“Fine. But I’m not going to take this any further than a few flirtatious remarks at tomorrow’s gala.” You remind yourself it’s not good to anger someone like Madelyn, she’s scarier than she lets on. Madelyn nods and you walk out of her office, much more embarrassed than you were when you entered. As you stormed down the hallway to the safety of your own home, none other than The Deep greeted you.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.

“Hey! How are you doing today, cutie?” He starts. He practically salivates as he walks beside you. You feel like you’re gonna be sick.

“I’m not in the mood right now.”

“C’mon, why don’t you let me take you out for a drink or two? We’re supposed to be all over each other tom-“

“Not in the mood!” You cut him off. Your walking increases to practically sprinting until you reach your home. You slam the door shut behind you. You shrugged off your clothes and crawled into bed. No way in hell were you getting out of bed until the last possible minute.

You stood, still as a statue. You wore a deep purple outfit. The silks enveloped your body in a sexy, yet elegant way. You had never felt more bored in your life. The Deep had his hand positioned on your lower back, where it had been all night. You had already talked to everyone important, you made sure the photographers got enough shots of you coquettishly whispering in The Deep’s ear, or leaning on him while being in conversation. You had taken notice to the fact that Homelander had yet to arrive. The gala would be ending soon, and without an appearance from the leader of The Seven himself. His absence further ruined your mood.

You and Homelander were in a bit of a situationship. There was no official label for your relationship. He’d come to your house just to sleep with you one day, then act like you two were strangers the next. You had learned to accept that nothing serious would come from the relationship. But there was still a part of you that wished he had come tonight.

“(Y/n), big smiles.” The Deep reminded. “Why do you look so fucking depressed?” His voice was low enough that it would look like casual banter to any outsider. His hold on the small of your back grew tight.

“Back off and mind your own business.” You said through gritted teeth. You forced a coy smile and blush onto your face as if he had just said something really flustering to you.

“Hey you two!” You felt your brows furrow. Sometime between two minutes ago, when you last scanned the room, and now Homelander had entered, and without you noticing. Your fake smile melted into a real one.

“Homelander.” You greeted. The Deep pulled you in impossibly closer. He didn’t say anything, just nodded. You had a feeling he was scared of Homelander.

“Do you mind if I borrow them?” Homelander asked The Deep. All of you knew it wasn’t a question, just a thinly veiled demand. “You seem to have them chained down.” He laughed, referring to the vice grip currently on your back. After a second the hold was gone, The Deep had already walked off to get himself another drink.

It was just you and Homelander now. He moved close to you to whisper in your ear.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked with a plastic smile. You felt your stomach drop.

“My job.” You shot back with an equally fake smile. You watched as his cheeks turned red with anger.

“No.” He grabbed your wrist. “We’re leaving.” You planted your feet in the ground.

“Excuse you?”

“I said, we’re leaving.” He hissed.

“They’ll have my head if I’m seen leaving with you.”

“They can fucking suck it up. I’m The Homelander. I get who I want, when I want. We’re leaving.” He dragged you by the wrist to pull you out the back doors. You were acutely aware that all the photographers turned away their cameras after seeing the expression on Homelander’s face.

The cold night air curled around your exposed skin, but you had no time to even breathe it in before your head hit the wall behind you and Homelander’s lips were on yours. His hands gripped your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You push him away, sucking in deep breaths.

“What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t say you don’t enjoy this possessiveness, but he’s never made such a scene for you before, especially in public. He doesn’t answer before pulling you back into another hungry kiss.

He pulls away, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re mine. All fucking mine. No one else can have you, especially not that fucker Deep.” He pants. His grip tightened in a way you’re sure would bruise if it wasn’t for your invulnerable skin. “Fucking say it. Say that you’re mine.” A tone of pathetic desperation creeps into his voice. You smile and curl your fingers in his hair.

You wish Madelyn could see you now. Not a good pair, as if.

“I’m yours, Homelander.” You assure him. He whines against your collarbone. You’re sure tomorrow he’ll go back to pretending none of this happened, but for now you revel in his attention. “Why don’t you show them that I belong to you?”

It’s so petty, just a cheap way to stick it in Madelyn’s face. Homelander grins as he tries to suck a hickey on your neck. Both of your smiles quickly faded at the realization that there’s no way to bruise invincible skin. “Shit.” You cursed under your breath. Homelander looked up at you with his big blue eyes. You run your fingers through his hair.

“I’m sure you could show them in a different way.” You smirked.

[rottenaero]

AO3

Part 1

Part 4

Part 6

Part 5 of the roommates idea

Okay okay, so before this starts, a lot of people have mentioned me posting this on ao3, and my question is if you guys mean it as it is, or if I should make two or three new parts to make up for the first part.

Because in the first part, we miss a lot of possible moments between Steve and Eddie since it skips to the basic idea.

This whole thing was meant to be a messy and quick way to get my ideas out, but then people ended up actually liking it, and well, I just want you guys to like the outcome.

Basically, I wanna know if I should;

A.Post it on ao3 as is

B. Post it on ao3 with two to maybe four parts instead of the original post, and have me do part six after I make those. (I'm a decently quick writer when I'm motivated, all these parts so far have been within a day or two)

C. Make the parts instead of the original post, and have this be a big one-shot on ao3(meaning it wouldn't be posted on there until this is finished)

I am really leaning towards B, just cause I wanna do those interactions (one of which would be Eddie coming out to Steve), but I wanna see what you guys think first.

This whole thing is kinda a wreck cause I don't usually post fics on Tumblr but hopefully it will get better with time.

After Dustin explains the upside down, and Eddie talks about what really happened, they come to a sort of agreement.

Eddie was to stay at the boathouse, and someone would occasionally come over with a supply of drinks and food.

Steve, of course, despised this, because Eddie is his best friend-(And who was he kidding? Goddamn crush, too)-dammit, but he let the plan go on anyway.

Before they left, Steve turned to Eddie, brows pinched together.

“Stay safe, alright? If you get hurt because you do something stupid, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

Eddie laughed, loud and full, “Kinda counterproductive, aye sweetheart?”

He stopped when Steve didn’t laugh or make a joke back. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll walkie if things go to shit.”

“Good.” Steve gave him a little peck on the corner of his lips, “Don’t die, man. Can’t take care of these little shits by myself.”

He turned to face Max, and a gaping Dustin and Robin.

“Lets go, nerds”

-

Steve stared at the ground, unblinking.

One of his kids were gonna die.

Eddie had had apparently left the boathouse

Eddie was being hunted.

Two more students have been murdered.

He licked his lips, and his eyes flicked up to watch Powell talk about the town hall meeting.

They were royally fucked.

“Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler? Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes widened and he turned around in time to see Dustin snatch the walkie.

“Eddie, holy shit. Are you okay?”

The walkie took a second to crackle back to life.

“Nah man, pretty uh, pretty goddamn far from okay.”

“Where is he?”Nancy asked, already halfway back into the car.

“Where are you?”

“Skull Rock, Steve knows it.”

Steve smiled, grabbing the walkie and clicking down on the button, “Hold on tight, Ed-stefer, we’re on our way.” He tossed it back to Dustin before turning to Nancy.

“I’m driving.”

She scrunched her nose, but didn’t question it and swapped to the passenger's side.

-

“Dude, I’m telling you, you’re leading us the wrong way.”

“It’s North, I’m positive! I checked the map.”

Steve sighed and pinched his nose, “This is literally Eddie and I’s spot, we come here all the time.”

“That doesn’t have to do with it being a make-out spot, does it?” Lucas asked hesitantly from his spot in the back.

“Jesus, no Sinclair, this does not have to do with- Eddie and I are just friends.”

Robin scoffed, “Didn’t you kiss him earlier?” She asked.

“As friends. He doesn’t like me like that.”

“Right, but you like him like that, though?”

“Oh wow, suddenly we’re here, y’know, at the place you said we weren’t gonna end up at?” Steve yelped, gesturing broadly at the rocks around him.

Lucas has to physically bite his lip to keep from mentioning that he had absolutely picked that up from Eddie, or that Eddie had picked it up from him.

“See? You little butthead, I was right.”

Theres a rustle of leaves and then,

“I concur, you, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”

Steve turned to face the man and almost collapsed in relief, hes not hurt.

“Jesus Eddie, we thought you were a goner.” Dustin sighed, as he made his way past Steve to hug Eddie.

“Yeah, me too man. Me too.”

The hug goes on for maybe ten seconds before Eddie’s pulling back and bringing Steve into a side one, you know, like some kind of dad. “I tried calling you guys, but uh…”

His face turned sheepish and he stepped back a bit to grab some water from a canister. “My walkie was busted, man.”

“Drenched.” He adds in after a second, laughing a bit.

He took another sip from the bottle before wiping and extra drops away from his mouth. “So, uh, I did the thing that I do now apparently. I ran.” He let out another laugh, this one was a little bit more self-deprecating.

“Do you know what time this was? The attack.”

Eddie perked up, and grabbed at his wrist, “ Yeah, no, I um, know exactly what time it was.”

He held up a watch, the dials on it weren’t moving. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.”

“9:27…”

“Same times our flashlights went kablooey.” Robin says, and her eyes light up like she connected the dots.

Steve hadn’t, “Which means what exactly?”

“That that surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick.”

Steve half-zoned out, silently going through the events in his head, while maintaining conversation.

“Skull Rock was North.”

“An electromagnetic field.”

“What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

Steve tuned back in, a hundred percent now. He turned to look at Eddie, who was still crouching, and damn how did his back not hurt?

“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor,” Steve perked up, he kind of knew this one, “-which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think it’s a really bad idea.”

And Steve nodded along, because yeah, this was a terrible idea.

“But uh, the Shire, the Shire is burning, so Mordor it is.”

He whistled at Eddie when everyone got up, and he was by Steve’s side in seconds.

“You’re not hurt or anything, are you? Cause you don’t look it but…”He trailed off, and Eddie grinned.

“I am all-good Steve-O.” Steve nodded, “Good, good.”

Suddenly, there was a sharp gasp from right next to him, “Were you, perhaps, worried?!” Steve kicked a rock instead of answering.

It just made Eddie’s grin widen further.

“You totally were! Stevie Harrington, The-Former-King-Of-Hawkins turned sweetheart, worrying over lil-ol-Eddie-The-Freak-Munson!”

Steve scoffed, “ First off, I’d like to think I’ve always been a sweetheart, second off, keep it in your pants, dude.”

Eddie cackled, leaning into his side, “Yeah, yeah! You’re right. You’ve kinda been like that for the past two years, Mr.Eddie-Cant-Carry-A-Fucking-Hot-Pan-Anymore.” He laughed, ignoring the second part of Steve’s statement.

He huffed, “Just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Eddie booped his nose, “Yeah yeah, you’re just you like that.”

Tag List

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[ladybracknellssherry]

Good Omens Deep Dive Ahead! **I have edited and added to this several times now, but "ma point" has stayed the same. Probably every single reblog has a different version of this. It has turned into an absolute BEAST. You might be able to watch both seasons faster than read this at this point 😂😭

---------------------- Okay so I am rewatching S2 right now and golly. I've just noticed something. I'm sure it has already been noticed by plenty of other people so feel free to let me know, link me to some metas, please.

A lot of us have painstakingly analyzed every single frame, statue, clock tick, facial expression, and breath of the final 15. Good. Now we're going to look at the scene in S2E4/The Hitchhiker/1941 when Aziraphale and Crowley are in the bookshop doing their little pre-magic show warm-up roleplay foreplay bit. They're being surveilled by a bunch of half-witted nazi zombie spies. Aziraphale is trying to impress Crowley with his * m a g i c * Crowley is trying really hard to support his Angel.

The Blocking!

Keep in mind the camera angles are not quite the same between these scenes, the dimensions look a bit off because the lighting is completely different and therefore camera settings are different, and some of the furniture has moved a little bit in 90 years (but not much because Aziraphale)

1941 Crowley positions himself approximately / very nearly exactly in the same spot in the bookshop where present-day Crowley stops in the final 15 of S2E6 when Aziraphale says "Crowley, come back." The spot where shortly thereafter Crowley says the awful words that make us cry.

gif by stars-bean

gif by yellenabelova

1941 Azirphale with his little coins is standing in or very nearly in his same relative spot as in that scene, when present-day Aziraphale says "I need you," and "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you." And where shortly thereafter he says the awful words that make us cry.

gif by wearecrowley

gif by mabellous

Then Aziraphale gets a touch insecure when Crowley suggests they go to the magic shop because it is "for professional conjurors," and Crowley responds with his "My Nefertiti Fooling Fellow" line of support and encouragement and believing in Aziraphale. And in that moment Crowley stands and walks towards Aziraphale. And they are mere inches away from one another either fully in or very nearly exactly where they stood or rather will stand during the kiss. I'm not gonna post a kiss gif we have all seen it ten bajillion times and I do not need to cry tonight it is a Wednesday.

gif by gigew

gif by ajcrowleys

(I’m getting ahead of myself for a second but seriously, c’mon, just look at this fluff muffin's genuine smile above and tell me if it looks anything like that strained nightmare on his face in the gif below.)

gif by dykefaggotry

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE. And take from this what you will. That happy little 1941 West End Girl with his vanished farthing basking in the glow of what he now knows is his Demon's adoration. Rotate our duo 180° around the bookshop and Az is now primed to move into the position where he gives his frantic The Metatron's not so bad of a dude and Heaven are the Good Guys and Crowley is one of the Bad Guys nonsense ridiculousness that totally walks back on Aziraphale's entire character growth over 2 seasons. Could it possibly visually represent that our favorite little white-winged stim-city cinnamon roll found himself in the final 15 in a situation at a complete 180° from that moment in 1941 when he was so happy and being genuinely sincerely himself and he was about to do something that he really actually genuinely wanted so badly to do and it was GOOD and it was RIGHT. Crowley's confession is obviously such a wildcard. At this point in 1941 Crowley is supporting and encouraging and working with Aziraphale and in the final 15 he is doing exactly not that.

And even more. In both the 1941 scene and the final 15, Crowley has just entered, respectively, a church and Heaven to save Aziraphale in the middle of the blitz/a demon army almost war battle. A massive atmospheric difference is that 1941 happens at night and the final 15 happens in the morning. We'll work on figuring out what that might represent.

And then we have some seriously upsetting parallel Angel/Demon on the shoulder blocking/framing moments.

gif by i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky

gif by inhonoredglory

and

gif by inhonoredglory

And several more of such occur between the two scenes but I simply cannot.

And here's the part where I ramble and try to make sense of this in terms of the theories and fail miserably.

Get up, stretch your legs, have a glass of water, and take several deep breaths in.....and out..... You good? Let's go.

I've said it many times before and I stand by it that Aziraphale was lying through his teeth to Crowley in the final 15. Not because he wanted to lie to Crowley to convince him to come or to try to push him away - but because he was putting on a show for the Metatron. I think that just like the nazi zombies in 1941, the Metatron in S2E6 was absolutely watching Az's every move in the bookshop. And Az knew it. The first few times I watched it I thought Aziraphale's nervous glances to his left during his weird speech and the divorce were just nervous glances. Then I noticed that after he turned to face the other direction, his nervous glances went in the same direction, to his right side now, all the while to the window. It's alarming the frequency, several times a minute (but you were already acutely aware of the window glances you ineffably clever little shits.) I believe the whole final scene between our babies was an attempt at a sleight of hand by Aziraphale to subversively communicate with Crowley without letting on to the Metatron. How fitting that the parallel scene in 1941 revolved around supporting one another and planning and rehearsing for a performance that required for them to trust each other implicitly. And while I believe the act is for the Metatron, he is acting at Crowley - but expected him to catch on and act with him using coded language, movements, expressions, etc. that he expected/hoped Crowley would be able to read. However, both Crowley and Aziraphale in the final 15 were very clearly genuinely distraught for their own reasons. Crowley is about to finally verbally profess his love - and Aziraphale, I quite think, is terrified about his conversation with the Metatron and what's about to happen and is trying to come up with a tactic on the spot. It seems very likely to me that the intensity of their respective emotions in this moment absolutely doomed their communication.

How this all fits in with the leading theories.

I don't buy into the coffee theory. I think that was a metaphor or an allusion or symbolic of a very real "either accept my offer (which is not something you even want because everyone knows Aziraphale doesn't drink coffee) or suffer some dire consequences." I can't imagine Aziraphale would have ever thought the Metatron's offer was genuine and given out of merit. Surely he knew that he was in trouble. He'd thwarted the apocalypse, quit his job, stopped hiding that his person is a Demon, set off alarm bells in heaven twice in one week, blew up his halo and almost started a war, and hid an archangel on the lam. “You’re honest.” Bbgygrl bold face lied to the archangels for a week and the Metatron knows and Az knows he knows.

I'm not really for the body swap theory. Not really at all.

I’m not really for Angel!Crowley’s memory was wiped. How then would he remember the passwords? Crowley’s personality is very “that bitch” so I think all of his no-idea-who-tf-you-are interactions is just him being catty.

The time stop theory seems the most intriguing, I'm listening, but not yet sold. How prominently the ticking of the clock can be heard at all times in the bookshop feels important. I find myself flummoxed by the "missing minutes" / "continuity error" with that prominent clock in a show where the attention to detail is, “as you might say, a miracle,” that is propelling whole droves of human beings to the brink of discorporation. Here's an excellent breakdown of the timeline/examination of the clock in S2 by thesherrinfordfacility

I am, at this current moment in time, in the camp that believes Az likely attempted to convince Crowley to stop time so that he could explain the situation to him. To explain the threat - either implied, inferred, or direct - from the Metatron. To try to formulate a plan together. Check out this analysis from ineffableigh and take another look at Aziraphale babbling out his Heaven propaganda. Apparently the lip-reading theory that Az was mouthing about "time" has been debunked, but I stand by what looks like Aziraphale making the "time-out" hand gesture. And that damned clock loudly ticking its heart out all season must be important. Mustn't it??

Still, I'm not entirely convinced that any time stopping actually happened, not sure when it would have happened. Crowley was so emotional in a way we have never seen him. I think its highly possible that in the heat of that moment he wasn't catching Aziraphale's signals. I think that Crowley after the talk with Maggie and Nina was so caught up in saying what he was really thinking that it used up any possible bandwidth for LISTENING. But damn those tells seem like they would be/should be giant flashing neon warning signs to Crowley.

I mean, come on, the "C"lues in Aziraphale's ramble that he is spinning a wild-ass tale with coded language that would only make sense to Crowley are pretty obvious to me. If Az was really trying to convince Crowley to do something the last thing he would say is that it would be "nice(r)." And there is no way that at that point Aziraphale could have truly still considered Crowley to be a part of Hell and therefore one of the "bad guys." Seriously? 2 whole seasons and thousands of years spent learning about shades of grey and watching the Demon, who he loves, prove in a million little ways that he loves him back, watching that Demon do the right thing over and over, and TEACHING him, the Angel, the right thing. “Nothing lasts forever.” ?? My son is talking about his BOOKS. He is talking about THEM. They are IMMORTAL. They know what Eternity means. THEY last forever. If Aziraphale wanted to convince Crowley to come back and be an Angel, he would not have used that phrase/reasoning in his argument knowing full well that when Angel!Crowley became aware that his creation would be intentionally shut down, from Aziraphale's own mouth, mind, that was the triggering event that eventually led to Crowley's fall. Further, it would never have occurred to Aziraphale to try to use hurtful language to attempt to push Crowley away at this point because it has already been proven that that doesn’t work. S1E3 “I don’t even like you! “You do!” I think his erraticism in this scene was being totally caught off guard by Crowley's confession and trying to reconcile how to process and handle that while also trying to stick to his tactic of trying to get Crowley to read him. Az is brilliant, but Crowley is the one who usually can problem solve on his feet.

Az is clever enough to discern that he wasn't being offered the position in Heaven by the Metatron - Az was being forced back to Heaven. He wouldn't be happy or excited to make a difference in Heaven because he thought it was "the side of truth, of light, of good." No. There was no longer any freedom from Heaven, no safety for Aziraphale, which meant there was no longer any safety for Crowley. And if there was one motivator for Aziraphale above all other things it would be to keep Crowley safe. He had no choice but to go back to Heaven, so its not a matter of we can make a difference. It is a matter of we have to.

While I believe all of his word horror batshit disaster monologue was a bunch of old tosh, once present-day Aziraphale turns around from that 180° position to follow Crowley, into that final configuration matching that of 1941, he starts losing it. I think he's realizing that he failed in his attempt to get Crowley to understand. He did not expect to have to keep up this act so long. Crowley is walking away. It has all gone so wrong. He is cracking and the honest words start flooding past the lies. "Work with me!" (come on, catch up, please!) "We can be together"...(reluctantly, barely even trying anymore "...angels." And then it just breaks. "I need you!" "You don't understand!" While that would seem to be the case for Az, it really, at least on the surface, does not seem to have applied for Crowley.

The parallels between the final 15 and 1941 suggest to me, at least on the surface, an inverse. In 1941 we saw joy and excitement and wonder and cooperation and communication and trust. Furfur came to take Crowley back to Hell after catching our beloveds working together. And Aziraphale, the world's not best magician, performed a magic trick that may well have saved their existences, and "got it right the time that mattered." The final 15 is, again, on the surface and ostensibly, an abject disharmony. The Metatron came to take Aziraphale back to Heaven, and made a serious effort (no, not that kind, kids) to point out how very much the Ineffables "partnership" is "irregular" and implying, I'm sure, that they would only be permitted to be together as Angels in Heaven (which is a load of steaming celestial garbage.) (We're going to see more of the Az/Metatron conversation in S3, I just know it, there is some seriously important information missing.) But, as far as we were shown, at least on the surface, all of their getting to know one another and trusting one another and being able to read one another - failed to serve them the time that mattered.

And yet. Crowley still lingered in the end and stood so poised and stoic next to the Bentley watching Az step into the Hellevator...It kind of gave a feel that maybe Crowley figured something out. Maybe he had a cool down after storming out and realized something felt very off about that conversation. Maybe he just braced himself and remembered to trust Aziraphale. Maybe as he stormed out he saw the Metatron staring daggers into the bookshop window and it clicked. Maybe in Az's furtive glance back that very last time he once again mouthed "trust me." Some version of Az's message must have finally gotten through to Crowley. Somewhere along the way. It had to have. I can't believe it didn't. All season we were shown Crowley specifically can read Aziraphale. "You have three reasons for calling me" / "tone of voice," the "trust me" lip-reading at the 1941 magic show / Crowley has seen first hand how Az acts when he lies to Heaven in the Job mini-sode. And really. Crowley knows the second coming is on the agenda after his trip to Heaven. These two put the force of their entire existence into thwarting the Apocalypse once. Would he truly believe Aziraphale would want to help bring about the second coming? Sounds unlikely.

So, perhaps, the final 15 isn't in its entirety opposed to 1941. Maybe it's just a few symbolic nods. 1941 Crowley said the magic act they need to perform together needs to be "bigger" more "dramatic." Is there something bigger and more dramatic happening? Are they performing together? Did Crowley catch on? Did they stop time? Or is there a trick, like the photo swap, so surreptitious that it's almost invisible? Perhaps there is just a metaphor in there. Maybe now Crowley has to be the one to catch the metaphorical bullet and Az has to be the one to figuratively shoot? (That's terrifying.)

And then there's still the matter of that damned clock!

Also, let's face it, Alpha Centauri was never a plan. "They'll be shutting this all down in 6000 years.” “All.” As in "the universe.” As in Alpha Centauri included. They were going to have to take some sort of action eventually. I don't think Crowley ever wanted to go. He just wanted Aziraphale to say yes. Yeah, ouch.

Last point I promise is this video from @sendarya

Here, Nightingale Sang in its entirety is lined up with the 13 seconds in which it played in the Bentley and it ends exactly at the final frames of Crowley and Aziraphale. Some have speculated that Crowley had Nightingale queued up to play on the pair's way to breakfast at the Ritz. But that doesn't make sense. Wouldn't one have a song start at the beginning? AND Crowley had yet to have his chat with Maggie and Nina. I'm not so sure that the Crowley we know would have gotten it into his head/summoned up the confidence on his own to ready THAT song. Maybe the often tone-deaf Bentley was trying to comfort Crowley by playing Nightingale? But what I think is that when Aziraphale glanced back, he made the tiniest of little Angel nudge waves to convince the Bentley to play that song. From this vantage point, Michael Aziraphale's creepy smile in the final frame conveys an entirely different sentiment. It makes him look certain. It makes him look like an Angel with a plan. If I'm right in this part, I think that would have been exactly what was needed to finally get his message, intentions, and feelings across to Crowley in a way he could understand.

Come at me hive mind!

Also still new to tumblr and think I royally fudged it on adding those gifs so I'll work on that.

[b0n3s-4nd-4ll]

actually making a change

recently ive been binging a lot and its so embarrassing but its the truth. i mean i created this account for motivation so i could share wieiad but im ashamed by the fact ive been letting @n@ down i guess. ive also not been weighing myself because im scared to see the number go up i keep telling myself that tomorrow is a new day and ill do better but it never works and i guess ive been lacking the motivation but i know i need to make a change and i will so this is what im gonna do

-no weigh in october i am hoping that if i actually start restricting again then i will see a positive change by the end - post wieiad this will help me hold myself accountable for what i eat instead of trying to ignore the problem - re-watch my favourite trigger movies hopefully this puts me back in the state of mind i was in when i was at my lowest weight so that i can get to that point again

please if you have any other tips on how i can motivate myself feel free to share !!!

[therapycat21]

All Right Now Part 2

Travis Kelce x Famous!Reader Description:The reader catches the eye of famous footballer Travis.

Warnings: None Social Media AU

It’s been a week since the incident at Arrowhead and Travis is still actively liking my posts but has not reached out yet. I'm taken from my thoughts by an incoming call from my manager Stacy.

“Hey y/n” she smiles brightly into the screen at me “hey, whats going on?” I ask her “they just had a major cancellation for the arrowhead stadium and need someone who can quickly put something together, they reached out so I thought I would check with you to see if you are comfortable doing this last minute?” I haven't done a concert in a while so why not I thought “yeah I can figure something out, when is it?” I ask her smiling.

“It’s gonna be this Saturday” she let’s me know before we talked a bit more before hanging up. I then open Instagram to start making a post to announce it to the fans.

Not even a second after posting it went viral and started to trend on twitter. I then get a notification

Killatrav added your post to their story!

I clicked on the notification to see he did indeed add my post to his story with the caption. "Tickets have been bought ;)" I blush before liking the story and decided to look through his account, it only consists of ads, and funny clips from a podcast he has with Jason, and pictures of him dressed really nice. I decided to like his recent posts and click my phone off before I do anymore damage. I guess I'm performing at the stadium now. I smile before I rush off into contacting everyone for the concert.

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Saturday Morning

The day is finally here, I've been up since 5 am getting myself together to head over to the stadium for the show tonight, trying to remember the setlist and dance moves. Stacy knocks on the room door in the stadium "everything is all set, you ready?" she questions knowing I can get really bad nerves before a show. I smile, it reaching my eyes for the first time in a long time "surprisingly I am"

I laugh “okay good, I’m gonna go and head to my seat, you’re gonna do amazing” she tells me before reaching to open the door. Before she leaves she quickly lets me know “oh by the way, kylie, Jason, and Travis are here in the V.I.P box.” she smirks at me before finally closing the door. My face formed into shock knowing they actually came, especially Travis, I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves

“You’re gonna do amazing”

“You always kill it”

“You've worked hard to get here”

I keep telling myself the three before I’m interrupted by the door opening and them letting me know it is time for me to start heading to the stage.

I quickly start to head over to the stage and see all of the dancers starting to get into position, I can hear the crowd starting to scream from the lights starting to move, I’m then handed my microphone and decide to talk to them before they can see me

“let’s talk some nonsense yall”

I hear the crowd scream even louder before I’m finally revealed. I smile brightly “hello my loves” I laugh before the intro to my son nonsense comes on. Every time I sing this song I always make up a new outro depending on the state I’m in. We’re now near the end of the song, and they turn the music down slightly so we can hear the fans better

“How quickly can you take your clothes off pop quiz” I smirk slightly before turning to where I see Travis staring at me smirking “raise your hand if you’re a little tipsy, sex with me is like joining the swim team, Travis is my favorite Kansas City” I blush profusely from him breaking out into laughter and seeing the blush rise on his face. The crowd screams even louder now knowing he’s there.

I see the crowd now facing up where the Kelce family is and taking pictures and videos. I laugh loudly into the mic before transitioning into the next song.

I can feel his eyes on me the entire show and for some reason my confidence was skyrocketing tonight and I didn’t hide that I was looking back at him with the best sultry look I could muster up. The show is now ending and the stage goes black before soft pink hues go through the stadium and the back screen lighting up with my new album announcement.

I hear the crowd scream even louder before saying my goodbyes and running off stage.

I reach the back where Stacy and Brittany are and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm my adrenaline "you were absolutely amazing, oh my god you killed it" Brittany says running up and pulling me into a hug. I hug her back before I'm pulled into another hug by Stacy "You did so good girl!" I thank them both before we're interrupted by security.

"Miss y/n? there is a Kylie Kelce here wanting to see you, she says she's your friend?" I smile brightly at the security guard Jared "oh yes please bring her and the family back please." Jared gives me a brief nod before walking away to allow them in.

"you know that means Travis is gonna come back too right?" I can hear the smirk on Brit's face, I give her a look "yes I know, but for some reason tonight I am feeling good and confident, that has not happened in a long time especially towards a man." I reply with a teasing smile.

We’re interrupted by the door opening and Kylie slightly jogging to me with both girls with her.

When she gets close by we pull each other into a hug with the two girls trying to hug my waist. I let her go then bending down to pull both girls into a hug “hello my pretty mama’s ” I kiss both of their heads before letting go and standing straight to also greet Jason “you were absolutely amazing mama” Jason tells me pulling me into a deep hug, he is literally a bear. He lets me go, walking around to sit with kylie and the kids. 

I’m then faced with a smirking Travis “I liked the shout-out” he tells me, I smile bright but with a giant blush rushing through my face “I thought you would” I smirk back at him.

He looks over at the others before moving slightly into more of my space, me having to look up pretty far to see his face “if you want I can show you how much of your favorite I can be” he almost whispers to me with him leaning slightly down with a giant smirk. If I thought I was blushing a lot before it is even worse now. I try to calm myself before replying “I bet you could” I try to whisper back, looking up at him smirking.

“So tomorrow night at 6:30?” he asks smiling “pick you up?”

I look back slightly at Brittany, her giving me a giant teasing smile and a thumbs up, I turn back 

“Definitely” I smile bright.

Like my writing? buy me a coffee! I would be so grateful!

[skribbyposts]

stupid silly zosan (again)

Continuation of my tipsy Sanji post i made a couple of days ago!! you don't need to read that first if you didnt already but I am slowly nudging you.... to my page.... sumbliminally.... (go read it)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoro is at his wit's end.

It's been close to half an hour, and he's wandering in the dark alleyways of this random ass town trying to get back to the ship. In addition to that, He's carrying a very drunk and very annoying Sanji on his back.

"Marimooo," he drawls, swaying to the side. "Where the fuck are we?"

"Stop fucking moving or I'm gonna drop you, cook."

The position they're in is precarious as it is, Sanji's legs wrapped around Zoro's waist the only thing really keeping them both upright.

The cook's hands come from where they're draped over Zoro's shoulders to poke at his face. "You don't even know where we're going, do you?`"

"Like you know either," Zoro grumbles.

"Yeah, but you're mostly sober," the cook slurs.

...Fair enough.

Sanji yawns, the action driving his chin harder into the top of Zoro's head. "You're talking too long, hurry up so we can get to the Sunny."

"Maybe if you stopped fidgeting, I could actually walk straight and we would get there faster." Zoro grunts, hoisting the lanky man higher up on his waist.

"Fuck you, I'll walk myself back to the ship then." Zoro thinks Sanji attempts to get off his back, but the cook slumps back down almost immediately after raising only his head. "No, no no. that's not happening. Christ, how much did I drink? Marimo, I'm gonna die from alcohol poisoning-"

Zoro lets Sanji lament about his booze-tinted doom, mainly because he's still trying to figure out where the fuck they are but also because the blond idiot does this every time they go out drinking. He gets piss drunk off of what, two shots? and Zoro has to haul his uncoordinated, mouthy ass all the way back to the Sunny. Bonus points if he stops to spew his guts in an alleyway. Sanji stops talking after a few minutes, but the silence doesn't last for long.

"Did I tell you. We're going... uh... grocery shoppi-"

"Yes. Yes, you did, Curly. Six goddamn times."

"Okay, don't be a dick about it!" He feels the cook's spindly fingers sluggishly tug at his hair, pulling his head sideways and making them more unsteady than they already are.

"Stop. Moving," Zoro hisses as he stumbles. "You're fucking heavy."

Sanji giggles from behind him, and Zoro can feel the vibrations across his back as the blond speaks. "Oh, 'm sorry, you directionally challenged wad of grass. Maybe if you went the right way you wouldn't have to carry me any longer." "Shut up! It's too dark, everything looks the same."

"No, you're just fuckin'... what's the word? oh, incompetent. I bet you don't even know what incompetent means."

"I know what incompetent means."

"God, I'm so dizzy," Sanji groans.

"Stop complaining!"

They bicker back and forth, Sanji spewing insults in his ear while Zoro barks at him to shut up and wonders how many times they've passed that street lamp on the corner. Sometime during that, Sanji's head makes it into the crook of the other man's neck, and every time the cook speaks his lips brush over Zoro's shoulder. His hands have also taken up permanent residence in Zoro's hair, combing through the short strands as he complains endlessly. Zoro can't say he minds.

"Ah, we're lost," Sanji whines in his ear. "Completely, irre....irrevocably lost. Marimo, the ship was ten minutes from the barrrr."

"We're almost there, you impatient prick." They are not, in fact, almost there. Zoro trudges past what he feels like is the same house he saw fifteen minutes ago.

"Good... because m'gonna pass out."

"What?" The cook doesn't speak, and his fingers go slack on top of Zoro's head. "No, cook - damn it, wake up." Nothing but Sanji's soft breaths sound as a response.

Zoro looks around, surrounded by rows of dark houses and no boat in sight.

He heaves a long-suffering sigh. "God fucking dammit."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoro struggles for another 30 minutes trying to find the ship with Sanji as a dead weight the entire time. he hated it (not really).

Sanji, for the 27th time: we're going grocery shopping tomorrow Zoro, tired of his bullshit: I KNOW.

ugh theyre such dumb homosexuals making bad life choices. i want to make them kiss.

Every day at 3am I rise from my coffin to write zosan content. they make me sick <3333

[justmeinatree]

A Hard Man To Lose

Summary : part 2 to Teasing Louis Request … the smut.

TW : smut

Word Count : 2.4k

A/N : a day late, a buck short 😬 .. just realizing now that i was supposed to post this yesterday. stoner brain is real yall, and my memory SUCKS. enjoy ✌️

niall walks up to you, slinging his arm around your shoulders, happy, drunken smile gracing his mouth, “coming back to mine tonight, right ?”

your eyebrows furrow, because you are absolutely, positively certain that you’d never spoken about staying over at his place. “uhh, i am ?”

“yeah, i figured,” niall shrugs, “we have breakfast with mam tomorrow, remember ? ya always spend the night.” 

he’s right. fuck. he is absolutely right. you always end up staying with your brother the night before meeting your mum, saving you the extra trip to and from the city.

“christ, ya don’t have to look so disappointed,” he laughs, “have other plans or something ?”

instinctively, you shake your head. you know how important it is to louis that niall not find out tonight. and it seems as though the universe wants to cockblock the hell out of you. “no, no, i just forgot is all. surprised me. i was expecting to go home, have a cozy night in after this,” you quickly lie, trying to hide the severe level of disappointment.

niall leaves a wet, smacking kiss on your cheek, “got me tonight instead,” he smiles playfully, patting your shoulder, before sauntering off to chat with someone you honestly didn’t recognize.

you use the opportunity to go find louis, slithering through the people, noting him by the bar. walking right up to him, your body pressed against his, arm resting against his shoulder, as he’s sat at the one of the stools.

his head snaps, not expecting anyone to lean into him, taking a big sigh of relief when he notices you, “fuckin hell, darling, scared me.”

“sorry,” you giggle, biting your lip, “m’not gonna be able to sneak off with you tonight. have to spend the night at my brother’s,” you groan.

louis’ eyebrows furrow for a moment, before standing, looking through the crowd to make sure niall’s nowhere near, his left arm wrapping around your back, hand landing on your hip, pulling you close, “don’t want to let this opportunity slip. m’gonna take care of this,” he murmurs against your ear.

your eyes flutter shut, senses invaded with louis. his fresh scent, masked with the lingering vodka from earlier. the firmness in his grip. the warm puffs of air as he speaks, hitting the delicate skin of your neck. the command he seems to already have over you, his towering height helping the allusion. “what are you going to do ?”

his other hand lands on the side of your neck, thumb stroking your jaw, making you look up at him, lips ghosting yours as he speaks, “promise me right now that you can be very fucking quiet tonight.”

you can almost feel your pupils dilating, breath leaving your lungs, hands gripping fistfuls of his shirt, as your teeth dart out to nibble into his bottom lip, “promise, fuck, i promise.”

“good girl,” louis coos, hand dropping from your neck to your upper chest, thumb and forefinger spread to cup the base of your throat, holding you in place as he takes a step away from you. “now, m’gonna go invite myself to your brother’s place,” he smirks, walking off in niall’s general direction, leaving you stunned and catching your breath, reaching for his unfinished beer, and polishing it off.

louis walks up to niall, smiling wide, too wide. niall knows something is coming as he hears, “can i crash at yours ?”

“what’s wrong with your place ?” niall asks, both of them knowing full well that louis would end up at niall’s regardless of whether or not he was properly invited. but niall still played the same game every time, not wanting it to be too easy for him.

“s’too far,” louis groans, “c’mon, please. s’not like you dont have the space. and we both know you love the company.”

niall rolls his eyes, not wanting to admit that it was true. simply because he would never live that down with louis. “gotta take the couch though. my sister’s got the spare room tonight.”

“fine by me,” louis smiles wide, “thanks mate.”

and that’s how louis’ ended up sneaking into the guest room of niall’s house, slithering his way into the bed with you, lips mingling with yours instantly.

you groan into his mouth, fingers gripping tightly in his hair, throwing your leg over his hip. you couldn’t help yourself, you’d been waiting at a shot with louis for over a decade, and now here he was, kissing you just as, if not more, eagerly. 

“louis,” you breathe against his lips, your heel pressing into his bum, trying to feel more of him, needing to feel more of him. he’d left you so incredibly horny back at the bar, you were fucking craving him, “want you, please.”

“impatient little thing, you,” louis chuckles breathily, rolling himself on top of you, your legs opening instinctively to allow him space. 

louis’ mouth trails open mouth kisses from your chin, down your jaw to your ear, nibbling on the shell, and taking tentative little licks. you could feel his hot panting breath, a shiver running down your spine, shooting straight for your pussy.

you were clenching, trying to buck your hips under his weight, needing to feel more of him. with the alcohol coursing through your veins, your brain already fuzzy with louis, louis, louis. a part of you was flabbergasted that this was even happening. that finally, fucking finally, your advances towards him were being reciprocated.

truth is, you would never have let yourself chase after a man for so long. but you knew he was interested, you could feel it radiating off of him. and now that you’re actually privy to the reason why, you’re happy that you hadn’t read the situation wrong, and he’s not completely disinterested in you. but also angry that your brother would stand in your way of potentially being with someone so right for you.

the feeling of his breath, warming your skin. the sound of his voice, breathy groans, and soft moans. the tickling wisps of his hair against your neck and chest. the weight of his body as it perfectly moulds with yours. the firmness of his grip, hands now roaming under your shirt, over your hips, up your sides, cupping your breasts.

a small whimper escapes your throat, his thumbs flicking over your nipples. your face presses into the top of louis’ head, buried in his hair, willing yourself to be as quiet as possible. 

the downside, however, being that you’re absolute shite at staying quiet. it was something you had a hard time controlling. it’s like if your brain shuts down, your body taking over and doing whatever it needs. loud moans being one of the things it seems to need.

“lets take this off, yeah ?” louis asks quietly, slipping your shirt as high as he can, helping you lift your body from the bed, to take it off completely. as soon as his eyes fall on your breasts, nipples pert from the attention they’d just gotten, a groan rumbles from his chest, eyes fluttering shut, mouth suctioning to your skin.

he was everywhere. from your nipple to the valley between your tits, to the swell of the underside. it’s like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to be. louis’ been so deeply in denial of his feelings towards you, not letting himself truly feel, in a way to avoid disappointment, and tonight felt like the dam finally breaking from all the pressure. he couldn’t focus, too preoccupied with touching, licking, nipping, at every single inch of your body, not wanting to leave any bit untouched.

your mind was reeling. it was so much louis, you didn’t know how to even begin focusing. your skin was tingling, prickling, fuck you felt like your entire body was about to burst like a firework. your heat was throbbing, clit aching, hips bucking into him, as you plead, “need more, louis, please. please give me more.”

louis’ forehead rests against your stomach, eyes closed, taking a calming breath. christ, he thinks he could cum in his pants just hearing you beg for him. the sheer desperation in your tone, hearing his name slip from your lips in such a sensual way. his nails dig into your skin, taking a moment to centre himself, to ground himself, because fuck, this was really happening and there was no way he was going to let himself cum too early.

“fuck, beautiful girl, say that again,” he breathes, needing to hear it all over, as his hands slip into the waist of your pants, shuffling them down your legs. 

“please, louis,” you whimper, legs trembling, your cunt clenching hard with the cool waft of air hitting your most sensitive parts, a dribble of arousal bubbling from your entrance.

louis’ eyes were locked on your centre, the sound of your voice hitting his ear drums, his mind turned to mush. his hands grip into your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart as far as they’ll comfortably go, tongue darting out to wet his lips, watching the glisten of your soaked pussy.

gaze stuck to you, louis’ fingers reach out, tentatively swirling through your folds, gathering some of your arousal, and spreading it all over your labia and clit. with another clench, and another drip of arousal, louis bites his lip, fingers twitching for more.

a tug of your hands on his shirt pulls him from his trance, eyes snapping up to meet yours as you mumble, “want you naked too, please.”

“so fuckin polite, how can i say no to you ?” he hums, shuffling himself out of his clothes, his shirt then his pants, his cock bobbing up against his stomach. instantly, you reach out, hand wrapping around his prick, giving a few slow but solid strokes. 

you notice his eyes flutter shut, a moan of relief echoing through the room, as you notice his shoulders relax, drips of precum accumulating at his tip.

your thumb flicks over the head, gathering the thick liquid, before your hand leaves him entirely, sucking your finger into your mouth.

louis watches as you hum around your thumb, your tongue poking out from between your lips as it swirls through your mouth, tasting him, “taste so good,” you groan, fingers reaching out for more.

he’s quick to grip your wrist however, a shiver running through his body, “m’so fuckin worked up, darling. m’not gonna last if you keep doing that,” he explains, all those years of pent up frustration rushing to the surface.

you nod, understanding, as you also feel like you’re about to fucking burst. as he lets go of your wrist, your hand grips onto louis’ hip, pulling him closer to you, and with a few swipes of his dick through your sopping folds, the tip was breaching your entrance.

in one fell swoop, his cock is entirely seethed inside you, a loud moan reverberated through the room. instantly, louis’ mouth is on yours, muffling any sounds that may threaten to escape.

“gotta be quiet, lovely,” he coos against your lips, cock unmoving inside you, as he takes a moment to calm his heart rate, feeling your walls spasm around him.

“please move,” you whimper, entire body trembling, nails digging into his skin, the sudden fullness fuzzing your brain.

with louis’ elbows rested against the mattress on either side of your head, fingertips playing soothingly in your hair, he takes a bite at your bottom lip, tugging on it, his hips rolling at a steady rhythm.

“christ, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, feeling your pussy suck him back in with every thrust.

you moan, attempting to stay quiet, your body completely overheated, orgasm already forming in the pit of your stomach, your inebriated brain unable to focus long enough to hold anything back.

louis notices. notices you losing your senses. notices the breathy whines getting more urgent. notices the fluttering in your tummy. notices the added slickness to his thrusts. notices the roll in your eyes. notices the sting of your nails in his skin. notices the clamping down of your cunt. 

and in one final greedy moment, one of his hands grips the underside of your knee, pressing it up to your chest. his cock instantly slides its way into you, impossibly deeper, a loud gasping moan, knocking the air straight out of your lungs, orgasm crashing over you.

“fuck,” louis groans, louder than he’d like, your cunt clamping down on his member in a vice grip. with his mouth on yours again, willing you to quiet down, his request falling on deaf ears, the ringing in your brain too loud to even hear him.

“shh, you’re okay darling,” he coos, as you seem to relax a bit, his cock still delving deep inside you.

“fuck, louis,” you whine, bottom lip trembling, “can’t stop, fuck, i can’t stop.”

and for a moment, he’s confused as to what you’re referring to. that is, until the clench of your cunt picks up momentum, “christ, are you cumming again ?”

you nod around a whimper, tucking your face in his neck, body wracking through another strong orgasm, louis joining you over the edge, not a minute later.

through a mess of breathy moans and pants, both of you staying as quiet as possible, you make your way down from your high, light sheen of sweat sticking your bodies together. louis gently peels himself from your body, leaving a series of pecking kisses over your nose, lips, and chin, as he pulls his cock out of you.

he smiles softly at you, leaning down to nibble on your lip, murmuring, “you’re fucking irresistible. can’t get enough of you.”

you hum, a shy smile gracing your lips, giggling quietly, “we can do that again sometime right ?”

“that, and much much more. do this again when we can take our sweet fuckin time,” he chuckles. “think nialler heard us ?” he asks.

“oh, he heard you,” you both hear muffled through the wall, eyes growing wide, strong blush taking over your cheeks, as you both burst out in an embarrassed laugh, slightly too blissed out at the moment to really care about the consequences of being caught.

……

Masterlist

tags : @gorlsinmultifandoms @cc-horan

[professionalchaoticdumbass]

in the past week or so ive seen a lot of people posting about how there's this oversexualization of trans girls on the site, and I gotta agree, there are way too many people (including other trans women!) who act like we're all dtf 24/7 or always super kinky and horny. I've been tired of that stereotype for ages and i am saying this as a rather sexual trans girl myself...

...but I think people are overcorrecting a bit now, and are starting to veer into "trans women shouldnt be talked about sexually / need to be shielded from it" territory. and, to me, that's really dangerous, because outside of some queer spaces - and even within them- the sexuality of trans girls is heavily scrutinized, as is attraction to us. as much as I dislike certain aspects of the memes and jokes that kickstarted the stereotypes, I'm kinda grateful for them as well. girldick jokes helped with my bottom dysphoria, voice kink shit helped me like my voice, and the whole "tgirl tummy tuesday" thing gave me a lot of confidence in my body where I hated it before. I think this open appreciation of trans sexiness has done a lot for both me and others on tumblr.

again, obviously its got its problems - people end up assuming every trans girl is horny, or only spread positivity if its related to sex with us, and of course the people who do have dysphoria from the things that are being sexualized are left out (like those the "girls without dicks are like angels without wings" memes, ugh, feels icky every time). and on the note of comparing tgirls to angels, we also started getting treated like we're ethereal fertility goddesses and that t4t sex was some inherently sacred ritual. spoiler alert, trans girls are normal-ass people and t4t sex can be holy for the participants but its generally a pretty normal thing to do as well

coming back to the "don't sexualize trans girls" posts now, I think they were initially going in the right direction, but at this point I'm starting to raise an eyebrow at more than a few of them. I'm not gonna whip out the "youre a sex hating puritan if you post about it" accusation because that is obviously wrong but again, I think people are definitely overcorrecting and starting to turn this into a (false) dichotomy when it's not. its a complex topic and each individual trans woman will feel differently about it.

(I feel like the internet just erases any nuance in favor of a two-sided, highly polarized flamewar with unrealistic views on both sides. actually i wouldn't even say this is a super-nuanced discussion because its really not that hard to say "fetishization is bad, but so is suppression of sexuality". will this post just end up being a void scream and people will continue drawing lines between one side and the other? probably. but I am a stubborn bitch and I have hope that we can be reasonable.)

anyways I'll close this off by saying that I wrote this between around 1:30 and 2 AM on terrible sleep the night before, that I hope what I said is coherent enough, and that I will keep being a trans girl who is openly sexual, gets horny over other trans women, and is proud to be transsexy as fuck. I will keep being critical of jokes and trends and memes that stereotype us, even from our own community. I will keep being angry at how poorly us trans folks are treated with regards to our sex lives, bodies, and relationships between the two. I will keep loving and lusting over trans women without fetishizing them. And I will keep doing all of these til the day I die.

[rampantram]

I've been saving this but I can't take it anymore... your art is super cool!! I love the drawing style you have, especially the lines and expressions. Also the dynamic poses and interactions between characters, everything looks so cute but at the same time exciting to keep watching!! I would read a whole manga with your art in it :3

Curious question: what size are your drawings normally? I see that you draw in pencil and many times there is more than one drawing on a single canvas/sheet so I am curious to know approximately the size of your drawings

I hope you don’t mind me using your ask to say this, but…you guys have no idea how much your kindness and positivity has affected me since I started posting my CotL stuff.

I’ve had anxiety since I was a kid, and depression for almost a decade now, and most recently been diagnosed with ADHD and OCD. I’ve had the most lows in my life over the past few years, and my consistency and drive to draw has suffered for it; at most, I’ve posted every other week, but mostly once every couple of months, and even longer than that until now. Being on medication has affected my motivation to draw, and I’ve been on short-term disability for over a month now, trying out new medications and feeling mostly miserable from the side effects.

Despite all that, I’ve wanted truly to finally be consistent with art, interact with people, try new things, and it’s helped so much to have so many people loving the things I’ve come up with. I haven’t been as consistent this last week, and spotty some weeks before that, but you’ve all been so patient despite that, which is part of the reason I want to give you some transparency and vulnerability on my part.

So I apologize if things continue to be a little less than organized or consistent, but I’m going to keep trying my best everyday, because I want to keep bringing you things you enjoy and want to interact with, so…thank you. 🥹

But getting to your question before I really start to tear up…this 9x12 sketchbook by Strathmore (specifically the recycled paper) is what I’ve been using for my sketches for a long while:

And it typically depends on how big or small I think each of the drawings should be, but I do try to keep them on one page if I can just for organizations’s sake.

Also if I know I need to post it from my phone, I try to make things easier for myself by putting things within proximity of each other with my phone’s camera in mind (not the whole page because it’ll be blurry, up and down since that’s easier for me to take a shot with, and so on).

If I’m gonna scan it, that makes things a bit easier, but I do try to condense them enough so I can try and avoid doing two scans of the same page and having to stitch them together (this one below just ended up taking the whole page, and since most scanners - my roommate’s included - usually only scan Letter or A4 size areas, those I end up having to scan on multiple parts and edit them together in Clip Studio Paint).

But of course, it all comes down to what feels right or works with your own method the best (as long as you achieve the outcome you wanted, the tools and method to get there don’t necessarily have to be the “best” or “right” way to do it).

I hope this helps, though, and that you have a brilliant day~✨

[etheries1015]

BOOK 7 SPOILERS BELOW

I finally decided to suck it up and catch up with twst book 7, I stopped after seeing Silver cry because I'm sCARED OF BEING SAD 😭😭 anyway here's a few reactions I had to it 😭

And hearing about the update coming soon-ish to ENG servers I really need to read up

Lilia pressuring Epel like the old man he is 😭😭 I love the moments that they remind us just how old Lilia actually is and how he sees most if not all the students as if they were his children/grand children, making sure they get the most out of the party and drink...its giving "What do you mean you're not hungry? Absolutely not. Here Is at least 5 servings of whatever dish I made to help u grow big and strong."

Okay I didn't take a screen shot of it but the entire section where Lilia looked kind of guilty with Ortho about exchanging addresses because you just KNOW he probably isn't gonna check in, presumably because he doesn't want anyone to get More attached to him seeing as he is nearing the end of his life span (crying shaking throwing up)

THIS. THIS. THIS INTERACTION HE HAD WITH US. I LOVE HIM. I AM SO SILLY FOR HIM. I totally forgot I changed my in-game name from my nickname to my REAL name and when he said my name I verbally yelled "WHAT THE HELL" before giggling and kicking my feet hehehehe I'm clinically insane for him

But the fact that he acknowledged us as Malleus friend probably means we've spent a lot of time at the dorms or around Lilia for him to see how our friendship and interactions with him work, and it melts my heart hehe. Being part of the diafam fr. But honestly bro back me up, I'm tired of being called a hench-human 😭💀

I wonder just how bad we must look with everyone noticing the strange shift??? Either we REALLY made a scene (tripping over, going pale) or the twst boys are just that attentive to us and I think that is the sweetest thing ever 😭😭 Ace and Deuce is so sweet for thinking of us and trying to get us out while also being polite to the people who kindly held the party. Despite not being there long, ace and deuce is willing to skip out on free food and drinks in order to make sure you're okay and I'm just 😭😭 ANGELS. I LOVE THEM.

But also the way Lilia worries for you is so sweet 😭💜 I should write a fic of sick reader and Lilia, or reader trying to tough it out because I know for a FACT Lilia would not let that slide! (Hypocrite 😐)

I ACTUALLY DROPPED MY JAW WHEN SEBEK SAID THIS SHIT. I WAS. WHAT. WHAT THE HELL LMFAOOOOO 😭 thats fucking insane bro I actually found myself chastising him thru the phone, I would NOT let that discrimination against humans bullshit pass fr 😭 slap him right upside the head and give him a stern talking to. I like seeing Lilia get frustrated, he's so cute and UGH. Although it went in one ear out the other, Seeing Lilia mad is so hot if I'm being real with y'all rn BUAHAHA.

I didnt screen shot this either (and I can't fit anymore photos on this post smh) but Silvers nose being red and obvious he was crying but Lilia confused. DudE OF COURSE he was crying!!! You're his dad!! You raised him since he was a baby, he's just now going into adulthood and doing that WITHOUT HIS DAD who is going to a far away land! Sure, traveling is a thing , but honestly nothing beats having that support just a moments away. Silver is literally the sweetest and wants to support his dad , but who's going to support him????!?! Lilia is putting him in a position where Silver feels the need to be strong and hide his tears for Lilias sake, but of course this is hard on him, its so sudden, too! Being so close to your parent and next thing you know mere days later they are stripped away from your arms?!

I just want to give them all hugs. Lilia obviously has some issues and misconstrued ideas of love (a million people have made posts and comments on this, so I will not repeat it) and I just. Need them to all sit around and be their mediator while we go thru their emotional states.

Ugh. I was in my twst burnout stage and still low key am, but fuck does it spark so much passion in you 😭😭

[genericpuff]

Big steps are scary, but not moving forward is scarier u.u

So I've been sitting on this post for a little while now, I had planned to post it a few days ago but then I crashed for a nap and woke up to the news of LO ending so wound up using that as another excuse LOL

The last few months have been, to put it lightly, brutal. It's not that anything has happened, it's more like nothing is happening - the usual slow season in tattooing has been especially long, with especially less clients coming through the door, so while it's given me loads of free time to prepare for my conventions and work on other projects, it also means I'm not making as much as I'd usually make. And what I usually make is typically what supports everything I do here.

This has basically been me for the last half a year:

(riding it out, just riiiding it out, whoof)

I'm very fortunate to have a job that satisfies my dream of making a living off art, controlling my own schedule, and making money doing it to boot - but the caveat to it all is that it's a luxury service that relies on the economy around me doing well, and the economy around me right now is very much NOT doing well. I'm also very fortunate that my savings are capable of supporting me, but that's all they are, savings - if I'm not making anything, they'll burn up eventually. I'm not sure how physically capable I would be of going back into retail / food service, and it's honestly just not something I want to do after coming this far as a tattoo artist.

I've also learned how valuable and necessary collaboration is during projects like these. Not just to supplement the quality of the work itself, but to supplement the working experience as a whole. Working with an assistant has been an eye-opening experience in that regard.

When I set out to make this account, it was for the purpose of LO shitposting, edits, essays, and nothing much more than that. I wanted to keep it separate for the sake of my mental health and for the sake of my separate audiences, because when I started here, it just... wasn't a popular opinion in the slightest to have opinions about LO and comics like it outside of the positive norm. I had a lot of fear for a long time built up in my head over it, but as time has gone on, I've fortunately had mostly positive experiences and even when they aren't positive... I've proven to myself that I'm capable of moving forward through it all with my head held high and that these scary experiences aren't as scary as they tend to seem in my head. That's really just the funny thing about fear over any sort of 'risky' endeavor.

That said, I've also branched out a lot more from this blog's original purpose. I've talked about the process of making webcomics, Webtoons as a platform, offered alternatives to creators seeking refuge from the more corporate platforms, given out writing and art advice, discussed topics concerning Greek myth, shared my own original works, and basically just naturally progressed into talking about and doing other things because LO will end eventually and I don't want to restrict myself to talking about the same comic forever LOL

This is a crossroads that I've been at for a few months now. And I know nothing will change unless I take a step forward. It might wind up not being in the right direction in the end, but it's forward, and that's all that really matters to me, because staying in the same place forever isn't good for anyone.

So, I guess I'm gonna stop yapping and just show y'all what I've been working on! I brought this up in a Twitch stream the other day and people in the chat were all very supportive and optimistic, so I'm hoping those of you who follow me here will be too ╭( ･ㅂ･)و (and if not, well, you can kick my ass in my inbox later LOL)

I've applied for my genericpuff account on Twitch to become an Affiliate channel and am just waiting on the approval process. Assuming everything goes through well enough, y'all will be able to subscribe to my channel or support it with bits. If I do get approved I'll be doing a rehaul of the channel design and offering some fun lil' goodies for the chat, and I'll be trying to stream at least twice a week.

So please go follow my Twitch account if you haven't yet! It's the best way to get early sneak peeks of Rekindled, as I'm usually working on new episodes, but we're usually also chatting about LO, webtoons related stuff, and other fun topics ٩(｡•ω•｡)و

But now for the biggest new addition - I've started a Patreon account specifically for my genericpuff stuff ! Normally I would redirect anyone who asked to my main Patreon, but it's not as active nowadays simply due to my original projects being on hiatus. And it's not exactly the best space to share any bonus goodies related to my genericpuff account.

That said, I want to make it clear that I will still be putting limitations on what I offer on this page. Anything related to early access sneak peeks will still be free for all. This will be a glorified tip jar first and foremost, most of what I will be offering as bonus goodies and incentives will be stuff like time lapses of pages, art tutorials, original character designs, critique requests, early access adoptables, deleted scenes, etc.

Basically it'll be stuff that I'm already making (or want to make) but will be exclusive to patrons that won't be tied exclusively to the reading experience of Rekindled. The comic will always be free to read, not just because of the legal stipulations of it being a fan project, but because I want it to be.

Alternatively, if you want to access the stuff I have planned for my original work that I will be posting as early access to my Patreon once it rolls out, you can support that Patreon here!

From the bottom of my heart, thank you all so much for supporting what I do here, in all of its niche craziness. Building this little community over the past year has been life-changing, and I don't say that lightly. I've worked very hard to maintain what I'm doing here, and I'm going to continue doing so - it's a privilege to write and draw for you all week after week, and I appreciate any and all support you can give so I can keep managing what I do.

And if you can't, that's okay! The best way you can support my work is to read it, share it, and engage with it! Remember that reblogs will always be more beneficial than likes, and please don't ever be afraid to pop in to our streams or into our Discord to say hello! It would be a joy to have you ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

Thank you all so much. This has been a big barrier to overcome on a mental level, my anxiety is through the ROOF right now, but I'm so grateful and glad I have such a wonderful circle of readers, community members, and friends who have offered their reassurance through this slow season and process of seeking support. Whether or not this is a step in the right direction, it's at least forward <3 And whatever comes of it, we'll see. But I'll be riding it out all the same ~

[polyamorousmood]

Hi there, I want to thank you first for running such a helpful page!

So I'm actually just starting to explore polyamory. My girlfriend has been poly since I met her over a dating site, but I'll admit when we first started dating my insecurities made me not want to hear much about her other partners.

But over time, I started realizing not only that I may want to date more people but that I was missing out on a part of my girlfriend by avoiding something that is a feature of her person. And luckily we did have a good talk about it! We are gonna have a tabletop game night soon for me to hang with some of her partners, and maybe I'll be lucky and they find something to like in me too.

But honestly, it still gives me some anxiety to see her talk about her time with other people. I hate feeling jealous like that after wanting to work on it! I just really love her and don't want my insecurities to make us break up. Do you have any good advice for how I can help reassure and center myself?

I just want this girl to be happy and I'd like to be able to continue to be someone who makes her happy

Well, then I'll start by saying you're welcome! I'm so pleased you get something nice out of this blog 🥰

I have talked several times about how to handle jealousy I was going to post links, but honestly, it'd be like 6 links at this point. Search for "#jealousy" on this blog and you can find them. Please read those, they contain good thoughts.

I am struggling to find the words to explain just how touching I find it that you're opening up to this side of your partner. Its the sweetest, most beautiful of revelations. As a poly person I feel what you said is very true, and I would be really touched you're wanting to open that up.

I would therefore also be very concerned with making sure it went well, and be willing to do a lot to help you out. So I think it'd be a good idea for you to make dedicated time to thoroughly talk over your concerns with your partner before, and talk about how you felt about everything after. I find it useful to mention anything, even if you dealt with it and it ended up okay. Its totally fair and in fact probably helpful to your partner to say "it was a little weird at first when you gave X a hug, but I realized that was stupid and I think I'm okay now."

I think for someone in your position, who is working on expanding what you're comfortable with -- and as something not mentioned in the other posts I've made -- its going to be important to find the sweet spot for growth. That is, generally exposing yourself to situations that are uncomfortable, but that you're able to accept/work through/handle. Factors for this could include (but are not limited to):

length of exposure

topics/types of discussion (sex, similarities/differences between you and other partners, attractiveness, (dis)enjoyment of activities with other partners, etc)

type of activity

what sort of affection is shared with whom

the degree of "publicness"

Think it through, and start out with some things you know you can handle. Again, if you want to make progress, you should be seeking something that is a bit uncomfortable, but not so much discomfort you can't get over it in a timely manner. (As an example, my cutoff would probably be something like "I'm still bothered by the end of the next day, and after talking to my partner about it," but its okay if yours is somewhere else.)

Also worth noting you don't have to have a "total success" to be successful here. There may be certain things you're never fully comfortable with seeing/hearing about. Since it sounds like everyone else is okay with you not being comfortable with any knowledge, I'd be surprised if it'd be a problem for you to maintain a few boundaries about it, even after you've put in a lot of work to being more open.👍

Since you mentioned already that you're uncomfortable with her sharing things she'd done with others, I'd like to offer three points to that specifically.

Congrats fr fr on that self-awareness! 🧠Legit you should be proud

You can start small here too. If you're not ready to know full details about something, but want to try something, maybe just ask her to give you a one-sentence summary when you ask how it went so you can practice!

I want to offer you a reframing here. I think you're likely feeling insecure when she mentions fun with her other partners because your thought is something sorta like "she has so much fun with them, she can't even stop thinking about it when she's with me... she must like that more..." . . . But what if... instead... you worked on replacing that thought with something like "she loves me so much, she wants to share even her special experiences from her other partners with me"? Does that feel more wholesome? and do you think that paints your partner in a kinder light, too?

I wish you the very best of luck, but quite frankly, I don't think you need it. I think you've done very well so far, and will continue to do so under your own power. And I do hope you feel powerful for tackling this.

And as always, I LIVE for updates. I'm proud of you!! 💙💖🖤🥰

[dear--mars]

Bloodthirsty

── Synopsis: "The sun gave earth the most light but the earth is slowly destroying itself." Childe wasn't made for love and he knew this. So why does he keep trying? And why do you keep letting him try? Opening your arms for him to fall into even after everything, showing him such warmth that he thought he could only get from the sun.

── Character: Childe/Tartagliaa/Ajax

── CW: Toixc relationships, fighting, taking it too far.

── Notes: This is my 2nd and LAST birthday post. Enjoy the angst. [angst/slight comfort]

── Word count: 800+ words

Ever since he fell into the abyss, the euphoric feeling and the adrenaline that fighting gave him was one of a kind. As friendly as he seemed to outside people, he couldn’t care less about anyone other than his immediate family. 

He didn’t feel the need to connect with others, they would only get in the way. They don’t get him the way fighting does. Fighting doesn’t need to be logical, it didn’t have feelings he pretended to care about. In the world he was living in, he only needed himself and his own two fists. 

Being one of the Fatui harbingers didn’t help him either. If anything it made him worse. Childe became a slave to the adrenaline and the Tsaritsa took advantage of it, using him as a killing machine. 

But Childe never batted an eye, he knew that the Fatui was using him but it didn’t matter to him. He couldn’t be happier to be fighting and with his position as a harbinger, he gets paid an absurd amount of money for doing something he loves doing. Not to mention he’s able to support his family as an extra bonus.

He’s a family man but at his core, he's no better than a bloodthirsty dog. Someone like him is destined for violence, driven by anger, as he treats the world as if it’s only for conflict.

So what happens when he meets someone with the same kind of bite?

Your relationship with Childe was doomed to fail the moment it started. Both of you were too competitive, wanting to win everything, and treating everything like a competition. 

It was harmless at first. After a defeat, one of you would give a joking glare or side-eye before laughing it off and you’d be in each other’s arms at the end of the day, still madly in love. 

But as his work days get longer and your love fades, your competitions turns into more than just a lover’s quarrel or friendly banter. The two of you can't remember the last time you laughed together. Only screaming, yelling, and genuine arguing. But one day, he crossed a line he could never go back on.

“Well, at least, I didn’t try to kill myself over a minor inconvenience!” He yelled and the room stilled and Childe knew whatever happened after this day, your relationship would never go back to what it was before. 

You stayed silent, only able to hear the sound of your own voice. You bit your lip as anger took over you and you too, crossed the line. “At least I didn't run away from home because I was bored and fall into the abyss as a child and almost die!”

“You’re going there?!”

“Yeah, I am. What are you gonna do!?”

“Big talk coming from someone who almost got sexually assaulted and needed me to save them!”

“You bitch…. I don’t want to hear anything from the Tsaritsa’s lapdog!”

“I enjoy being in the Fatui!”

“I’m sure you do but your family doesn’t. I know you can see it. The way your parents and older siblings look at you, they're afraid of you. Because you're a monster. How are you going to feel when Tonia, Teucer, and Anthon find out who you really are?”

“Don’t spout any bullshit about family to me, when you killed yours with your own hands.”

“That wasn’t me! I was possessed!”

“It doesn’t matter, it was still your body, your hands that killed them. So who’s the real monster?”

“Still you! Can you even call yourself human with that foul legacy transformation of yours? You are the antithesis of what it means to be a human.”

“You know what? I’m with this!”

“Yeah, run away like you always do.”

“No, [Name] I'm serious I'm done with this.”

“So you’re breaking up with me?”

“For a fact, I am!”

“Then just leave!” was the last thing uttered before Childe slammed his hands on the table before storming out of the house. You sighed before running your hand through your hair. You knew he’d be back in a couple of days. This was a routine for you two but now you were doubting if you guys could go back and pretend that nothing happened.

It had been over 5 days and Childe still didn’t come home and you started to think that it was truly the end of your relationship. But you heard the door open, your head shot toward the sound of the door slamming shut. You saw Childe walk in, he looked a bit disheveled, there were clear eye bags and his hair was even more of a mess than it usually was.

We had eye contact and you bit back your usual questions, asking where he was and such. You saw Childe’s shoulder sag a bit before he walked up to you. Your eyes widened when he flopped onto the couch, his head in your lap. It was clear he wasn’t able to get much sleep. 

You let out a sigh before running your fingers through his hair, comforting him. You felt Childe melt at your touch, letting out a small groan as he nuzzled into your lap even further. 

That argument was never brought up ever again…

- Navigation -   - Prismarine -

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 5/14/2024

googled "sample bon mot" in a fit of desperation, considered asking chatgpt to generate me some for 0.2 seconds before the visceral BLEUGH reaction plus remembered that every query is like pouring a 16oz water bottle out on the ground, and figured this series of events would be a better intro than anything else i could come up with

listening

miya folick's Pet Body was off last week's spotify rec playlist. i had liked some individual songs by miya folick (singer/songwriter/alt/indie/dance/electronica) but now i gotta really dive into her discography-- this particular very peppy and upbeat song with dire lyrics is really clicking with me lately as my body overreacts to texas pollen and engages in other known misbehaviors.

the chorus, my god

Proper care and feeding for my pet body

and this verse

I'm just a brain with a pet body Out for a walk until I croak I'm just an ordinary subject In an ordinary book

as my mother used to say, i'm real fuckin sick and tired of being sick and tired!!!

-

reading

ough i need to vacuum. i picked up Mrs Vargas and the Dead Naturalist by Kathleen Alcalá for a dollar last summer bc 0) killer title 1) it was a dollar 2) cool cover 3) autographed 4) endorsed by le guin.

kind of fascinating as an object: weird little lesbian (?) boutique press that's still around, idk ive ever seen a notice about steps they took to ensure the longevity of the physical book before?

i find myself bouncing off latin and south american magical realism a lot bc i am not in those authors’ intended audiences/i do not have the background to fully appreciate them. i have a bachelors of science. and that’s fine bc that’s the point! this is one of the very few times post-college where i caught myself thinking “man i gotta find a class to take about this”.

even if i do not understand the wider cultural context or the real-life figures she obliquely references in many of these short stories (i am convinced the bird-voiced singer is based on a real singer), i do appreciate alcalá’s craft: true short stories, she makes her point and then ends it. the twist in Reading the Road specifically— woof that’s gonna stick with me for a bit. a perfect little o henry twist of the knife. i wanted so badly to link this specific short story but apparently nobody has used it to teach anything and the book itself is not widely available/on the internet archive/etc. u will have to find this story of a roadside fortune teller (who is current on all her business permits) and one day's fortune telling, by yourself perhaps through your library

-

watching

the prisoner, the seventeen episode british sixties tv cult classic. let's yoink the description from wikipedia.

The Prisoner is a British television series created by Patrick McGoohan, with possible contributions from George Markstein.[2] McGoohan portrays Number Six, an unnamed British intelligence agent who is abducted and imprisoned in a mysterious coastal village after resigning from his position.[3] The allegorical plotlines of the series contain elements of science fiction, psychological drama, and spy fiction.

number six shares a lot of traits with my cat philip marlowe, as they are both hell fucking bent on escaping and all attempts to restrain them just sort of train them to be better at the next attempt? as one might expect from a heavily allegorical sixties show, kind of heavy emotional going so im watching an episode every day or two.

why am i watching this? it's free on my library streaming service (and tubi), and i don't have a lot going on. i love one-season cancelled shows, i love Dad Media, unfortunately i was a navy brat and i do love some cloak and dagger shit. i LOOOOVE a fucked up little town and bureaucracy-as-cudgel. i actually came across this when i wishlisted the game We Happy Few back in 2018, another entry in the "creepy little british towns" genre. have yet to play it

-

playing

the cosmology and general backstory of genshin is convoluted as hell (The Gods are real and live in the sky, but some lowercase-g gods are also rulers of the seven nations in-game) but they have been foreshadowing a grand showdown since the very beginning of the game. one player character cannot de- or re-stablize so many regions and engage in so many power struggles without someone taking notice.

i did NOT, however, expect one of the regional god-rulers (purple) to start planning for this divine war in a side cutscene in a seasonal event. a seasonal event around rock n roll rhythm games. absolutely devastated i missed the pink fox lady's rerun right after i had to give my work laptop back and before i got the PC fixed. this game will not run on my iphone 12 for love or money

-

making

bit of a depression hovel situation going on. we are slowly rolling that back tho. finally met my landlord during the HVAC replacement debacle, he said that he bought this apartment in 2009, lived here for ten years, and then his parents lived here for a couple years. i am the first non-family tenant, i think. all of the appliances and fixtures are from 2009. i think the fridge will be the next to go. ANYWAY. i asked him what the deal was with the lack of bathroom vents and HE said when he had an air conditioner put in in 2009 the HVAC guy then assured him he only needed the HVAC vents and closed up the actual vents. which is a load of shit. i am not really excited to live here for another year but i really super can't afford to move and finding an apartment in houston the first time was such a goddamn nightmare. i cannot do three years tho. hopefully something will have changed by august 2025.

i have also, through a special cashback bonus reward on my credit card, a sale, a gift card, and cashing in more cashback money, acquired a cat tree for philip. modeled here by mackie bc we did room swapping again as i was writing this. i cannot be bothered to install curtain tiebacks or properly fold anything, as you can see below

[hobiebrownbrowser]

🔞Introduction🔞

❤️My name is citrus, I'm 20 and I write mostly SMUT. I have no problem writing SFW but NSFW is mostly my thing. ❤️

Rules and things about me:

🔞I indeed take requests! I've done quite a lot of them already ❤️ Mostly SMUT so. 18+ DNI if your a Minor!🔞

The thing that usually clouds my mind is 'Hobie'❤️. I've had an odd obsession over him for a few weeks now and it's extremely not healthy.

🔞If you are a minor stay clear of my page! I tried to be nice and let you all come through but NO. THAT DEEMED TO MUCH TO ASK. I don't need my posts getting reported any longer. I'm tired of it.🔞

I really only made this account for Hobie Brown but I do others too. It's not common though. ❌❤️ Do not ask me to do a character that is depicted to be a minor you will be ❌BLOCKED.❌

I WILL NOT do anything I am uncomfortable with, let's say for example, selfscest, Extreme violence, Extreme sexual assault, Etc. You get the get go of what I'm saying. ❤️

I LOVE punk. You will never take that away from me even if I died. If I did I'd say I completely fucked myself out. Probably why Hobie was my number 1 reason on here

I got this introduction idea from @quintessencewrites I realized I never really introduced myself.

╰──Hobie Brown smut

Mating Season↓

Summary: Y/N didn't come to the HQ today. Of course Hobie was gonna worry. She'd never miss a day to come see her favorite guitarist. It wasn't like her to disappear on him.

Attention Seeker ↓

Summary: A rainy day on a Friday night.

Aftercare↓

Summary: Hobie secretly loved the way you'd take care of him. Massages a constant get go everytime you're together. ❤️

Waiting Room Quickie↓

Summary: Before a concert Hobie wants to do just more than admire his favorite lady.

Shower sex↓

Summary: You both decided to try something new for a change.

Ride me↓

Summary: Hobie wanted you to ride him.

Sing for me↓

Summary: It was the first time Hobie heard you sing, He wanted to hear more.

Take it slow↓

Summary: After a long discussion, Y/N finally felt the courage to trust Hobie with everything.

Let me take care of you↓

Summary: After a long night all Hobie wanted was you.

Date night↓

Summary: Hobie takes you out on a date, A small skating ring tucked away in the crevice of a tall building inside a pub.

Different Flavors↓

Summary: A small ice cream shop opened a few blocks away.

Trapped in my mind↓

Summary: A certain punk at a sex party caught your eyes. What a shameful excuse.

Don't get caught↓

Summary: Havin' Secretive sex in Miguel's office with Hobie was hella risky.

Make me↓

Summery: Hobie acted like a beat, so Y/N put him in his place.

A Devil In Disguise ↓

Incubus Hobie Brown x FEM!Reader. Do I have to explain?

Such A Tease↓

Summary: Y/N would always tease Hobie until he'd had enough.

Touch me↓

Summary: You wanted to feel more than just Hobie's delightful caresses.

Overstimulation↓

Summary: I mean...It's mild overstimulation.

I'm not jealous↓

Summary: You test Hobie's jealousy and paid the consequences.

Such a brat

Hobie Brown x Bratty F!Reader!🔞 summary → Reader being a bratty lil slut for Hobie❤️

My Princess

Hobie Brown x M!Reader! →🔞 Summary: Hobie picked up on a new nickname.🔞

Be Yourself

Hobie Brown x FTM Reader! → 🔞summary: You hadn't gotten your bottom surgery yet, but all Hobie wanted to do was show you how much he loves you for who you are. 🔞

╰──╮Miguel O'Hara Smut:

Breed me↓

Summary: Miguel had a long double shift tonight.

Midnight remedy ↓

Summary: Miguel fucks you in his favorite position.

Just one bite↓

Summary: The night was just as beautiful as you.

Trust Me↓

Summary: You were pulled into a random dimension, A big buff scary guy taking you to a private interrogation room for "Questioning"

Angst List

Cheating Hobie Brown x FEMReader

Summary: A spider has bit you, The spider was slowly absorbing your life, In a last feeble attempt to survive you harbor your life in a heartless android body.

Part 1 & Part 2

Part 3 & Part 4

Part 5 (END)