#i dont know this has always been something that weirds me out whenever people have fair criticism

[starcatcher-psywurm]

I always find it weird that whenever there's very fair and valid criticism of Staff where no ones being overly harsh, that there's people that jump to "You're being unfair, you ask for this and now you want this how do you think staff feels". Staff are a company. Point blank, period. They are not your best friend from childhood, they are a company, it is fine to criticize a product you are playing. I promise you Staff will not spontaneously combust because of people saying "Hey this is bad", these issues people are talking about are a build up of years of this happening over and over.

There are years of incidents of genes not being properly communicated that they are bugged, ever since Aethers came out people have been saying ancients are coming out too fast, art being changed for the sake of "consistency" and not what players want, lack of communication, etc. etc. It would be different if these were issues that had been fixed, but these are still issues. They need to be discussed otherwise how would Staff even know.

Small company or not it's okay to criticize things you play as long as you're not being vitriolic about it I promise.

[freakcliff]

x men tumblr dashboard simulator

bluebabadee

THIS BLOG IS A SAFE SPACE FOR NON-HUMAN PASSING MUTANTS. HUMAN PASSING MUTANTS DNI

10 notes 📌Pinned Post

sparklejays Follow

based on your likes!

every time I see a human talking about "how cool it would be to have superpowers" or some shit like that I loose it a little bit more. do these people realize that being a mutant isn't just fun powers. like even beyond the shit I deal with trying to get jobs or all the relationships that have been ruined once people realized I'm a mutant. abilities aren't just fun and games, I have a friend who can't touch people without nearly killing them, I burned down three buildings before someone finally taught me to control my abilities, and these people are all like "wouldn't it be great to fly to work every day??" just admit that you see us as comic book characters and not real people with real struggles

#actually mutant #jay .txt

276 notes

scamperpamperblog reblogged spocktism

🏙️tilleys-brain Follow

self diagnosing is great and all but most of you people aren't telepaths, you're just hyperempathic

#actually mutant #actually telepathic #hyperempathy #crosstagging i know but some of yall need to see this #tilley speaks #it can be dangerous to go around acting like you know peopels actual thoughts when its just your brain

1,657 notes

oh-you-pretty-things

.

#vent post #sometimes I get really mad at magneto #like I think he's done a lot for mutant rights and stuff #but I'm so fucking tired of everyone assuming that I'm evil just because of my powers #like jesus not all of us are trying to start atomic wars #some metallokinetics just use their abilities to make cool sculptures #but I can't get a spoon from across the room in front of strangers without someone mentioning jfk

3 notes

mutantbuffy reblogged muntantpollscentral

🩻mutantpollscentral

*physical mutation meaning something that is ALWAYS physical, not just something you can turn off and on whenever

#ig my mutation IS technically physical its just not visible to people most of the time so i feel weird claiming that #but like i was born with the tattoo marks #the powers didnt come till later tho #so idk which to pick

668 notes

sploimsh reblogged jesterjuleses

🎹pussy-truck-faggot

HEY! shout-out to people with *weird* mutations. Mutations that don't look cool, mutations that are gross, mutations that are dirty, mutations that you can't tell people about because they always cringe. You're just as valid as every other mutant out there. Your powers don't need to be palettable to humans for you to be treated with respect.

#THIS!!! #rb

5,678 notes

rosetvler

god i am so tired of the hypocrisy in this community. the double standards are insane. its okay to have 'scary' powers but the moment someone's abilities are scarier than like, pyrokinesis you're evil and dangerous to be around. 'acceptance' for you people only means nice mutants who've never hurt or scared anyone ever.

rosetvler reblogged rosetvler

non-mutants can reblog this btw

#srb #actually mutant #getting real tired of this

18 notes

katiedidnt reblogged morelikesexmen

🩻magicsteele27 Follow

okay like. i get that were all about acceptance and pride or w/e but no one in this tag has ever had friends irl i swear. if someone asks you not to read their mind you shouldnt. honestly you shouldnt be using telepathy on people at all without their permission. mutant abilities dont disclude you from respecting peoples boundaries

🌌rosetvler Mutuals

i swear to god you people are such hypocrites. its all 'mutant and proud' until someone has a power you dont like. its always about keeping the humans feeling comfortable instead of thinking about how it feels to never use your powers because theyre breaking 'boundaries' that were made up by humans in the first place

🩻magicsteele27 Follow

dude do you hear yourself right now

🎆jade-the-pyromancer Follow

Hey, I like your point op, but maybe you should stop trying to speak over actual telepaths and let them decide how to use their powers themselves???

🩻magicsteele27 Follow

i. i am a telepath.

#duddeeee telepaths are insane #used to be friends with one SO glad i broke that off before it went too bad

15,678 notes

[3liza]

grim feels very conflicted about The Mailman as a concept because of course as a dog the mailman is his greatest enemy and as a guarding breed he is incensed whenever any stranger approaches the house. but he's also a big goofball with strong socialization training so he puts his hackles up and says "urrrrrrrrr" in this basso rumble without showing his teeth or snarling, but also does a goofy little wiggle dance and anyone with any dog familiarity immediately identifies him as Not Serious and laughs at him. i keep him on a running line on the patio when he's taking the air, so that he couldnt reach anyone on the front walk if he tried, so everyone is safe.

occasionally he will take exception very strongly to a particular person. im not sure what influences this. the other night he came out to the patio with me as usual and immediately let off one singular big Bark, which he only does when he thinks it's important. and he only barks once, he's been firmly trained never to bark serially. grim's barks are like the police stars in grand theft auto. i dont think we've ever seen a 4-bark situation, much less a 5 yet. and i said what the hell man why you barking. and sure enough a Guy detached from the shadows down at the sidewalk under my front walk and started speedily walking away in that "what? i wasnt doing anything" way (if you're in the act of committing a crime, never do this btw unless you are in imminent physical danger. the best way to make the person who "caught" you confused about what they saw is to play it off as completely normal and innocent and friendly. if you cant gladhand your way out of the jam you can always do the speedwalk later). so that was interesting. grim has never barked at anyone just walking by on the sidewalk before, day or night. the sidewalk is neutral territory as far as grim is concerned. something about this dude's behavior really got his attention. maybe this guy was the one who broke my mailbox latch, mail stealing is probably the most common property crime in this area.

anyway dogs are not magic seers and have no sixth sense about people, some of them just have a strong idea about whats Normal and what's Not Normal and will let you know about it. so far grim's ideas about normalcy have been really good. it's a constant process of upkeep with dogs and good manners. you cant just train them once and then let the skills they learned decay, you have to keep reinforcing them. so i gently discourage mailman reactions and reassure grim when he's nervous and then when he makes the right call about something i tell him "you were right, that was weird. good catch".

[leeny-leens]

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

CW: Angst, argument, no happy end it’s a short scene, unedited, not proofread

A/N: One of the promised scenes from the fic idea about the AU where the reader raises harry and has some bad history with Remus, the angst potential is off the charts. Pls dont mind the weird dialogue im still trying to get the hang of writing it

———

“No Lupin,” you snarled, his name venomous over your lips. “You don’t get to try and…and pretend like you care about him now,” his amber eyes, once all soft and sweet whenever they looked at you, were darkened now, an edge of distance swirling in them. “Like you care about me,” you added, your voice barely a whisper. You didn’t expect it to hurt this much, not after all those years. You’d made peace with it, stopped looking for him in every corner, in every goddamned star that shone above you each night. You made peace with the fact that he left, ran away from you when things unraveled and shattered and left you to pick up your own pieces after he’d promised to always be there.

Clearly not, with the way the words gutted you from the inside out.

What hurt more, the realisation you still weren’t over it, or the fact that he was over you?

“Listen, I made choices I’m not proud of-“

“Clearly,” you snarled “Tell me all about it then.” With crossed arms, you fixed your narrowed eyes on him, as if silently challenging him to listen any more excuses. “Go on,” you demanded mockingly “Tell me about all the hardships you went through after you left me in the fucking dust.”

“Would it kill you to lose the fucking attitude and be an adult for once?” His voice was levelled, calm even, betraying the anger that writhed beneath the surface like a snake waiting to attack its prey.

You wanted to throw something in his face, hurt him the way he had hurt you, but you didn’t. Not because you cared about him or his stupid feelings, but because you had pride and call it stupid, but dignity as a mother that you did not want to compromise. Merlin knows how often you’d sat Harry through those conversations, teaching him how to talk to people without letting his emotions ruin his relationships, express himself without being cruel or vindictive. How could you face your son and preach those lessons to him if you did not follow them yourself?

You took a few breathes, willing yourself to calm down enough to be able to face him again without exploding in his face, or worse yet, hexing him to the other side of the room. “Alright then,” you said, your voice thin and strained with the effort it took to bite back the excess venom. “You have 3minutes,” you held up your fingers, as if to underline your statement, “Three minutes for you to explain where you got the nerve to decide things about my son’s life.”

His face contorted with amused disbelief at your words, shaking with sardonic laughter “He’s not your fucking son, he’s James’ and Lily’s son for Merlin’s sake!”

You knew that, all too well of course, who his birth parents were. he did not to remind you that your dead friends, buried six feet under, had merely witnessed one year of that boy’s life. “I don’t see them anywhere,” you spat, internally recoiling at the low blow you’d just delivered. “Oh wait,” your voice rose, as if suddenly coming to a delightful realisation “I don’t see them because they’re fucking dead Lupin, and I am the one who raised him for the last 11 years!”

His fists clenched at his side, knuckles so white the scars on them faded entirely with the flesh. “I ask myself every day why it couldn’t have been you instead,” he growled, his voice low and strained with suppressed anger. He was at the edge of sanity, you knew that, barely hanging on to the last bit of marbles before he completely snapped. A sick and twisted part of you longed for it, to see him break and slip into madness, all at your hands.

“Been asking the same about you.”

“You’re impossible and the worst person I've ever me.t”

“Well then you haven’t met yourself yet it seems” you responded lightly, eyes never once leaving his, challenging him to argue more, fuel the fire so it turns into an all-consuming, raging inferno that would swallow you both up and reduce you into nothing but mere ashes.

He clenched his jaw, the skin across his face stretching tightly as he fought to keep himself together, and you felt a pang of disappointment when he turned on his heels, storming out of the room to leave you alone. He took all the warmth of him, leaving nothing but ice cold dread in his wake. You quickly sprinted to the door, watching him disappear down the corridor before you yelled after him. “Go on you bloody twat” if he had heard you, he made no effort to turn back. “Leave again, like you did in the past!”

[stick-ball]

I'm still thinking about what Nora wrote in the recent Thea Muldani post, and it has me reeling in the best way possible.

I feel like it could have been an important moment for Thea - when Jean started following her around after joining the Ravens bcs. She was a black woman in that mess of a place and it was *hard* and as Nora said, nobody gave a flipping fuck about her really. No matter the effort she put in.

She fought hard for every little slip of recognition and approval. But still, no matter how good, she was nothing to the others on the team, even people she must've been in some way intimate with, even if in a shallow way. Then, though, everyone knows Kevin and Riko, and how above everyone else on the team they are. The standing is written plainly on their cheeks, so that no one forgets it, and the number on her jersey is far, far from theirs.

But then, there's the third guy. None of them really knew much about Jean before he joined them in his freshman year, did they? Maybe im forgetting something, but to my knowledge from all we know, Jean was not a celebrity kid, but a dirty secret for the Moriyamas. So, there's this other guy, who has a number 3 appointed to him by the Master himself, and from all possible people to follow, he is there right at her heels whenever he can. He did it bcs she was that good, and he wanted to get pointers to assimilate with the teams work smoothly enough to not get more punishment than he already was receiving but, Thea doesn't really know this does she? Not about the punishment and most likely not about the fact they do think she's good enough to be noticed by the perfect court either. It's not riko who's noticing, but it's still something, isn't it? So yeah, I think they must be maybe not friends exactly, but in some weird way, it must be some kind of landmark for them both. Maybe that will turn into a kind of friendship years later in a healthier setting?

But again, imagine the mess of that: Jean is always with Riko and Kevin, except when he's following the girl everyone around is trying to put "in her place". And he matters in some way, he must, because standing is everything in the nest, and he's right after the sons of exy.

I dont think it makes Thea "stand a bit taller" or feel stronger or whatever, bcs she knows she is strong and talented and is worth being here. Or at least she tries to remember that her belief in herself is what got her here. Her faith must come from within. But everyone still needs the recognition of all that hard work. To not burn out. At least every once in a while, especially in a place so devoid of it as the Nest. And maybe Jean was the person to first show that recognition to her, without even knowing it?

[firefly--bright]

sound//waves

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern a.u.

summary ; each sound has its own shape, something tangible for you to feel. jean's shapes are weightless but important, and you find the importance of your own shapes through him. warnings ; reader being self-conscious of her voice :') idk what the trope is here. pining idiots who don't realise they're both in the same boat, also brief alcohol consumption a/n ; hehe,,, this fic was a pretty long time coming i think? but its for @/samepictureofjeankirsteverday on instagrams celebration for hitting 1k days!! so congratulations!! its also inspired by her own fic, quietude on ao3 :) pls give it a read its SO CUTE and i loved it sm <333 congratulations again :33 ALSO i have never done karaoke before so im sorry for any,,, errors. i genuinely dont know how they work and ive watched only like 2 animes with a very vague karaoke scene </3 just pretend that every inaccuracy is For The Plot taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic-again , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable, @candleohappiness , @zombiefiedskeivy

masterlist is in pinned post ✿ enter my taglist ✿ requests for headcanons are open! ✿ playlist to listen to while reading! (it has a couple karaoke songs wink wink) ✿

right tile art credits ; @ppushable on tumblr!

you'd always been conscious of how loud your voice could get. 

a little annoying, you thought, because whenever you got excited about something, your voice would jump through octaves, creating an exponential curve on a graph. when you were with friends who knew how to make you laugh, your throat would make a weird sound - stuck between a guffaw and a choke of self-conscious laughter - if it was particularly funny. and your voice was always stuck between the contrasting spaces of either being too loud or too quiet, never really being able to gauge what was required when. 

you'd rather listen than talk. your voice would work around the right people, your mouth having a mind of its own, spilling contents you didn't agree to, but you'd regret the sound of it later. secrets would lie, open, barren, self-aware, in a disgusting pile of weird decibels on your table, in the space between you and whoever had to bear witness to it. you always cringed at the sound of your own voice after hearing it back in video, wherever it was captured. 

you grew up quiet, never growing used to using your voice until you were a late teenager. not knowing the importance of words until they were said, until after the reactions were met. 

and then you met jean. loud, boisterous laughter filled the room as he shouted the rules of the game, clearly drunk, at a party you couldn't remember the importance of, and you were next to your equally as loud and agreeing friend who shouted cheers and another one, her other half, she had loudly exclaimed, her twin, really, and you could hear the resemblance in the way they both chanted a cheer of “jean! jean! jean! jean!��� continuously as the guy wearing a button-up shirt that was now soaked with wine with a bottle of the liquid held a considerable height away from him, drinking with twitching lips and shut eyes. He stopped with a spluttering cough, unashamed still, a large, cocky grin plastered over his lips - plump and red with the tint of the wine. Then he let out a loud whoop and you wondered how he didnt feel the guilt of being loud weighing down on him. Maybe it was the alcohol, you assumed, taking a cautious, controlled sip of your own. Sasha and connie soon joined him, and along with their arm came yours, linked in between sasha’s tight grip.

Introductions were made, voices inclining louder to be heard over the music. “Sash told us about you,” jean shouted, a surprisingly inviting smile on his intimidating face, and you joked around, “yeah shes in love with me!” jean all but nodded with an approving smile, and the rest of the evening by pounding music that you could feel your heartbeat on, and you don't hear jean’s presence until about two weeks after it all.

He was quiet then. Suddenly his face went back to being intimidating, and his voice was heard through a groan the first time you heard it after the boisterous party. “Marc, can you please-”

Marco continues about his day, and then you add on with your unfamiliar voice shrinking under the sounds of the cafeteria that was quickly filling in with tangible shapes of voices. The rest of them have to lean in a little closer to you to listen, and your voice shakes against your chest at the bearable effort just to talk about your mundane and frankly low-grade joke about stagnant coffee that you couldnt even remember after you said it, but somehow made them laugh.

“Oh hey!” marco spoke from beside him after he spotted your head approaching them from a distance, his voice a happy, upbeat version of it’s usual quiet and important self. You waved to them with a smile, not uttering a word until you were at their table. With sasha beside you, you let her do the talking at first. Consonants loud, slight country accent clear as the day above you, she spoke about the “boooorrriinnggg” lecture she just had to attend, her back slumping against the seat. Your face rested consciously on your palm, an unintentional look shared between you and jean that said mostly nothing but quiet and secret amusement. His eyes were pretty, speaking a thousand, weighted words against his lids, all of which were heard clearly by you. Hes a stranger, really, nothing more than a name and a scruffy but pretty face, but that didnt stop the bounds of familiarity working their way through the shared space between you. Marco snorts from beside him, and pushes his remaining fries to the brunette. Sasha hums approvingly, comforting, the waves travelling to you safely. Undisturbed, just how youd prefer them to be, and her voice floats above your body, letting it settle there, with you looking at it’s gentle remnants.

“Ackerman’s classes are always a terror-shock,” jean spoke, now, directly to  you, eyes on yours, and you had to stop yourself from being consumed by the tidal waves of sound - his voice, low, warm, joking, natural as if your presence was just enough for him to find comfort in.  

You laugh along with him and your voice - a hungry animal of itself - involuntarily, becomes more itself than you’ve ever found it to be. Which is a shock, but then sasha rests her head on your shoulder, asking you, “when’s your next class?” her voice vibrating on your shoulder, travelling through your bones. Your voice - the hungry animal - or whatever it gently became, replies with a, “in a couple minutes.” 

“What block?” jean asks, and marco checks his phone for his own calendar. 

You hum even if you don't have to think, “block-b. Just a bit of a walk.”

“I have class the same way. I can walk you,” he says, casually, picking his back up from the ground beside him, his knee knocking into yours for a moment. He doesn't apologize. You get up next, picking up the remnants of the trash left on your table and follow him.

His voice is a constant after that. Surprisingly, his voice becomes something you reach out to, the tendrils of waves asking you to stay a bit longer, to shed your coat, to give him your bag to hold. Gentle commands that all but fuel your hungry voice, lungs soaking into whatever has become of his laughter mixed with yours. 

“Karaoke night!” sasha shouts, entering the apartment with no remorse of her voice being louder than the howling dogs at night. You exchange a natural, knowing glance with jean who stands next to you in the kitchen, handing you a spoon. Connie follows her in, and his presence is just as loud, the shape being a little sharp against your palm, just enough to remind you that this is your friend. His bag flops against the table and he groans with each joint that moves in him. 

“Im going to sing the best songs-” he starts, but jean is quick to cut his voice off, as usual, “-you’re going to sing CPR by Cuppcake you crazy bastard, im going to hit you-” “im not going to sing that! I have taste and dignity and-” “-you have a will to make us suffer.” jean states, and the two of them go back and forth while you hand marco’s cup to him in the living room. “Thanks,” he says, whispered among the background, his lips pursed with an attempt of hiding his laughter. 

You smile back at him, but your laugh isnt hidden. You turn around, hands on your hips, exclaiming, “okay! Karaoke night in three hours. Then we go to mitras’ and eat something good.”

Sasha agreed with a mouthful of food and a muffled voice, and you reeled from the fact that you could project your own voice into the apartment with such force. You’ve always been loud, and your mouth always ended up working by itself, spilling contents you didn't agree to be spilt, and you grew quiet again with the consciousness of it all. You never knew how to strike the right balance between quiet and loud.

But then you met jean, who was looking at you, his mouth drawn between half smirk and half amusement, brows raised only slightly, enough to keep you questioning.

“What?” you asked him. Cornered him, really, and your voice was meant to be sharp but ended up being soft around it’s edges, a happy smile accompanying it, and jean’s smirk widened, just by a bit. He shrugged. “Nuffin,” he said, voice half-hidden and half-proud under the food he was chewing. 

Chips. Barbeque, the ones you bought especially for him, the one sasha was hoarding. You narrowed your eyes at him in faux suspicion, but let it go only a bit after, turning your back to him as his voice travels to you without hinderance. “Sash, stop eating th3e damn-” “i’ll do whatever i want to!” she says, turning her back on him as well, facing the marble countertop of the kitchen with jean’s - now her - bag of chips, crinkling under her fingers as she dug through them, feeding one to you.

Karaoke was set. Three hours timing, as you said - a little too loud, unconscious of it being that way - and your shoes squeak over the floor. There had been a significant wait, but connie’s rambling had done you good. “For once,” jean said, voice barely heard over the sound of all the other occupied rooms, “he’s useful.” “that’s not what you said last night.” connie says, but his voice is octaves higher than jean’s and impossible to ignore. You open the door to the room with a smile, and marco groans. “Guys, keep it in your pants for one night.” “im not the one-!” jean starts, but sasha clamps his mouth shut with her hand. “If you're not going to sing, i don't want to hear your stupid, neighing voice complaining,” she said, a murderous tilt in the sound, something you didn't want to mess with.

Sasha in a bad mood wasn't sasha at all - a learned fact that had been taught very unfortunately to you - and you tried your best to get her moods up with whatever means necessary, hopping next to the big screen and detangling the wire of the microphone as marco scrolled through the song options, humming under his breath. A round of lemon sodas was immediately ordered, and jean left a seat for you in the corner of the couch facing the screen, an unsaid determination to get you to sit closer to him. Connie slung his arm around marco’s shoulders and, like the demon on the former’s shoulder, guided him to choose Copacabana by barry manillow.

“Wanna duet, beautiful?” he asked you, hand flat open for you to hand him the mic. You raised your brows with a smile, “you cant handle me, springer.” even if in reality, it was you who couldnt handle him, his voice ten times louder and unashamed than yours, something you admired.

“sash! Connie’s challenging you!” you say instead, smile poisoning your sentence, making it irregular. “hey! I never said-” he starts, but sasha bounces off her seat to your voice, hugging your arm, taking up the challenge and squinting at connie with vitriol. “You're on, baldie.”

Connie’s not a competitive person. He’d never cared about grades, about being first in class, about races, in board games - it was all just that to him. A game, something to have fun about; an admirable trait if went unpaired with the rest of his jokes. But he liked doing things out of spite - a revenge that flowed so deep that he had to do something drastic. 

Even before the music turned on, before their cue, they'd started their serenading, making marco wince with an adoring smile as he grabbed sasha’s outstretched, inviting hand.

You made your way back to jean, as you always found yourself doing, licking your lips against the cold of the AC blasting in the room, the floors shaking under the weight of your beating heart to the thumps of the song, rhythmic and out of tune. Marco sang well, you knew this, but his voice got lost under the competitiveness of sasha and connie, shouting over each other and clambering over the lyrics as they ran away from the screen, still getting the words wrong. 

You laugh, sitting down, stealing a chip from the bowl jean held in his lap as he flipped through the book of remarks strangers before you had written in the same room, their handwritings messy and intoxicated with the extensive - and expensive - cocktail menu, hearts littered under the praises of their time. 

“I wonder if they added it,” you said, almost shouting as he leaned in as well, head ducking near your mouth to hold your words in his heart. Impossibly close, his cologne masking the smell of the leathery couch and the stinge of cold air, and he lifts his head, a curious glint in his eye only enhanced by the rotating, artificial, lights that played their colours on the wall along with the trapped soundwaves. “Wanna check?” his lips upturned into a smirk, a pink light bouncing off his hair, then green, then a blue, the same colours in the same order projecting onto you and the adoring afflictions of his voice were not lost on you.

Jean chuckled, the sound hiding under the unbearable symphonies, pointing his finger at one of the notes. “Someone wrote-” you had to lean in close to hear him, afraid that you wouldn't catch the waves woven so delicately and carefully for you, that you'd miss them, somehow, “-that they are sad that… oh shit, thats connie.” the note, scrawled with a blue ballpoint pen, complained about how there was a lack of the sonic movie soundtrack on the machine. You laughed, your shoulders shaking under the now weightless time, a physical proof of your smile. Jean held it in his heart, woven carefully, as if it would slip away somehow.

 

Something to do. Together, like a secret, because really, how else would he say it if not like this? Like the shape carved itself just for you, smooth and soft. How else would he say something unimportant so close to you, his hand encircling your shoulders, arm resting on the back of the couch, voice the only thing you hear even if the loudness of the setting is all too present and all too distracting. Because that’s what this was, even with the distracting and present and loudness of the setting, he asks you, and his words form their own shape and fall into your lap, a gentle, warm question with round edges, easy to hold in your open palms that eagerly closed over it to not let it go.

Your heart beats to the thumps of the song. Your teeth ache with the sweetness of his voice as you nod with the same glint in your eye, and the unsaid but well-heard command is enough to get him standing up and walking to the machine, checking and flipping over the songs that offered themselves, his white shirt tinted against the moody lighting, the old bracelet you made him hanging over his wrist with a poorly tied knot that somehow withstood the test of time and weather and temperatures of his warm body. His hand scratched the back of his neck, and the present song was almost coming to an end, not that you were paying attention to it, but it was hard to not remind yourself of the moment you were in when the moment included him, the same ground he stood on being the same ground your feet rested on, the same room his voice held and clung onto also being the same room your own voice was in, floating to his, something you found it doing a little too often.

Your name was spoken on the microphone, brightly, with a wide smile, something you hadn't been used to until you met sasha. Your eyes met hers, crinkled at the ends with a smile wider than her heart, as she pointed at you, “your turn! jean-boy, choose something!” met with another shared and important - because all of them were important - glance with jean, eyebrows raised, affection rippling over his features, and you relented, hopping up to the microphone as she handed it to you.

“Oh, but when i asked you to, you didn't sing? I see how it is," Connie said, teasing smile on his lips. Marco shook his head with a smile as you shrugged. “You dont pay the rent,” you said simply, and the opening to cant take my eyes off of you by frankie vallie clung to your clothes, spreading a wide and knowing smile over your face, glancing at jean again. Again.

Sasha watches. Seeing it play out - not rehearsed, a little clunky, your shoes creaking under your weight as you hop to the beat, looking at jean who, in turn, looks at you, and sasha watches. Your voice hums out the tune before you sing it, before the lyrics start rolling in, impatience staining your tongue because of excitement, and she watches. Connie gulps down his drink from the corner of the room and tries getting up, but marco pushes him back down with a gentle and forceful hand, “dont,” his voice says, lost again, and connie doesnt ask why. Sasha hands her microphone to jean, clunky and unrehearsed, and he takes it without reluctance because he could never refuse being near you. 

Your shoulders shake without effort or thinking, and the usual hesitance that comes to jean so easily, like habit, almost disappears, finding solace in god knows where but he’s just glad its not there right now, with you. Brilliant smile, voice usually small and a little uneasy now grows with the swell of the song and he cant help but not sing. His voice is nothing but background and really, all he’s doing is humming into the mic just as you were moments before, and he sees everything. Your voice makes it hard not to notice you, stark against the background of the four walled-room, head bopping to the beat. It's hard not to notice when something so tangible and breathing and beautiful is in front of him, singing, smiling towards him, looking at him like you do with your eyes all shiny and almost sparkling under the shitty lights, he thinks, how can someone make a karaoke room feel like a shrine? 

He's not poetic. He knows this - out of the two of you, you find more of the metaphors, the small but noteworthy variables with the phrases and words - but he’d turn into a poet just to make one of the songs you like to sing so much. Humming under your breath, kept there until future and important use while making coffee, lost lyrics that you couldn't remember building up at the back of your throat as your hand flew across the your computer’s keyboard but even then he’d choose your inexperienced and unpracticed voice over a well made concert. 

Your lips shine with the light, and he forgets how to breathe. His mic floats somewhere near his mouth, he’s sure of that much, but everything else is lost to him. Your voice becomes his guide, wavering a little at the higher pitches, careful of the lyrics. You mess up once, laugh it off, shrugging your shoulders, and your smile is etched onto the speakers, making their way across the room and into his ears and, god, he can feel it. The beat doesn't matter to him, his heart finds the way of your voice and beats to it. As soft, as careful, unhesitant and unrestrained until the three minutes and twenty-four seconds of the song are over. And all he did was blink.

You turn, handing the mic back to sasha, connie’s standing applause met with a wide, unbashful grin and a little bow, faux pride in your posture. 

Jean all but follows your footsteps only a little ways from sasha, as she chooses another song of her liking, and his eyes are on you, adjusting the sleeve of your shirt that had folded up. You look at him, lips moving under his gaze, sound travelling and only a little delayed because jean thinks about your lips for too long. “You have a good voice,” you remark, smiling, and he blinks. Thank god the place is only dimly lit because his face feels red, heart pumping dangerously close to his chest. 

“Yeah?” he asks, as if he needs confirmation. Really, he just wants to hear your voice again.

You hum. He leans in to hear it as if it's something more important. It is, to him, every molecule that's disturbed by your voice to reach to his ear is something that he needs to be accounted for. He’ll make a home there, he thinks, where your voice lives in between the atoms, the shape it makes mid-air, just for him to hear.

“HORSEBOY THIS ONES FOR YOU,” connie shouts in the already loud speaker, making jean wince, connie pointing his finger between jean’s brows, a scowl on the latter’s features. The starting notes of “my heart will go on” start playing, and jean groans, head tilting upwards, catching the way you laugh softly, and turning to you incredulously. 

“Y’know your bald head is shining like a disco ball right now?” he says in retaliation to the now belting-his-heart-out connie, his hand making a fist over his heart, eyes screwed shut, pinch between his eyebrows, knees bending at an almost-painful angle that will most surely make them hurt later, with marco doing the background vocals, eyes closed, and… was that a tear? 

“Jesus, and then? what did he say?” sasha’s voice loudly asked, uncaring for any sleeping neighbours that would surely be jolted awake by her, coercing you to tell her more about the terrible group project you had just gotten out of last week. “He said he’d just give the work to someone who owed him a favour.” you said with mild but mostly dissipated annoyance.

Marco winced from in front of you, legs crossing two steps at a time. Jean scowled, turning his face to yours from where he climbed beside marco, “what the fuck?” to which you could only shrug with pursed lips. Sasha’s arm was around your shoulders, her fingers tracing comfortable shapes on the cup of your shoulder. 

“Wait, who owed him a favour?” connie asked from behind you, two steps under yours. You spared him a glance and shrugged again, “no idea. And then, of course, he told me, last minute, that they couldn't do it and he didn't have the skills,” you put air quotations around the last word, clearing your throat for dramatic effect, “to complete it himself.” 

“What the fuck does that even mean-” “what a fucking dick,” “god, im so sorry,” jeans voice was the first one you heard, followed by sasha’s, and then marco’s. “I wish we could still guillotine people.” connie spoke up just after you crossed the last step, marco’s shoes squeaking to a halt before your door. You fished your keys out of your pocket, opening the door to its jingle.

“Guillotines are for rich people, dumbass,” jean said, rolling his shoulders back as if the sentence itself burdened him.

“of course you’d say that, you french fuck.” connie spoke, wiggling out of his coat the second he stepped through your door. Sasha went headfirst for the couch, collapsing into the cushions without any plan to remove her own coat. Her soft snores soon filled the apartment - a trait both her and jean shared. The two could fall asleep anywhere and anytime, state of their body be damned. Jean had told you, after a long nap, his voice a low hum, that he had insomnia as a kid. He didn't know how he grew out of it, but it ended up with him on the opposite side of the sleep spectrum - unable to wake up unless shaken very violently. He asked you to slap him awake once, and when you hesitated, connie stepped in with a loud smack to jean’s cheek.

Marco stretched out his arms while walking to sasha’s room. “Im taking her bed.” he says, a tired yawn stretching out at the end of his sentence. Connie groans, “where will i sleep?” he asks, looking at you with a smirk, “if only a beautiful girl with a pretty voice tells me i can use her room…oh, if only,” he sighs, placing the back of his hand on his forehead. 

“Yeah. if only, you bitchless moron.” jean says, and you shake your head with a smile. 

“Do you think women are bitches, jean?” connie asks, the hand on his forehead finding itself on his chest, gasping. sasha ‘s snores break through his sentence.

“No! I.. i love women. I mean, im not like, im not… like a slut or anything, but-” “sounds like something a slut would say. Fuckboy.” “I respect women!”

“Ladies, ladies. Stop fighting over me.” you say, walking towards your room without sparing either of them a glance, expecting jean to follow you. “Cuddle with marco, con, I know you want to.” 

Connie groans, again, a little too dramatically to be taken seriously in the first place. There’s no malice hidden in his voice, none of the usual complains you would've found, “fine. If you say so. See, jean? This is how you respect women.” 

“Youre only saying that because she’s pretty.” jean says. You try not to let it get in your head as you enter your room, your door creaking open. “Night, marco!” you whisper-yell across the hall, even though sasha’s eyes wouldn't open even a peek with any amount of sound. “Goodnight!” he whisper-yells back from across the hall, only a couple steps away from the door of your room. 

Jean and connie’s voices are still arguing about something, but you're too tired to make their words out, all of it becoming gibberish. You clear your throat - a sound that’s enough to get them to stop. “Goodnight.” 

“Hey, wait-” jean speaks, and connie snickers from behind him.

Your room is silent, save from the irregular sounds of the cars passing downstairs, gravel under their rubbery tires. Everythings been said and done; teeth brushed, face washed, pillows fluffed (by jean’s persistence). You collapsed onto bed, leaving enough room for jean to squish into, the sound of ruffling blankets and the plush, squishy pillow under your ear. He lays on his back for a moment, before facing his body towards you, the deliberate motion creating squeaks of spring from the mattress. Everything has its own sound. Jean’s hands tuck under his head, and you resist the urge to laugh at his position. He sees right through you.

“Whats so funny?” he asks, whispers, really. You're not sure why. Maybe it's the overwhelming silence, the inability of breaking the warmth that crosses across both of your bodies, sharing the same blanket.

“You look funny tucked in like that,” you say, imitating his hushed voice. Maybe it is too important, you think, to talk about things that are funny in the moment for no reason but to keep your heart steady against the faraway but present sound of his - just one of those sounds that didn't need to be heard to know it was there for you.

His sigh turns into a laugh. You're both laughing at nothing, soft puffs of air, carbon dioxide overlapping carbon dioxide. Sounds are science, right? This felt a lot like poetry. Maybe they all merge together, and Jean speaks up before you can think more about it, “do you think Connie is spooning Marco right now?” 

You laugh a little more. “Are you jealous?” “that we’re not…cuddling?” he asks, a little unsure, but with a small smile anyway. He's hesitating. You know him enough to know the way his voice - though soft and pliable right now, gaseous against your palms, shape unreadable - sounds when he's unsure. You shrug. “Are you?” you don't know if the whispering is making you bolder or if you're just tired. You’ve always been a little conscious of your voice, a little too in your head about needing to be soft, uncaring if your sentence goes unheard. It doesn't matter as long as youre peaceful, as long as your voice doesn't disrupt disrupt disrupt.

His cheeks go a little red. It's how you know you’ve got him. Your smile turns softer, a little more understanding. “I…okay,” he says. You're both not sure what he means by it, but you can't help but marking it as important, just as everything he’s said to you.

“Your voice is…really pretty, by the way.” jean states, eyes not meeting yours. His lips form a thin line after saying it, as if he’d been wanting to keep it a secret, as if the fact that it somehow got out was a fault. You don't have much to say to that, though, so the sentence lays there, between the space of the pillows, between the blankets. It’s weighed, careful but untamed, and it lingers there for a moment, soft and pliable and unconscious. 

“I mean… like everytime i hear your voice its… its nice. Not just when you're singing. I like that too.” he rambles, voice still a hush, words still soft and pliable - putty-like, shapeless but you catch them and you don't let them go, let them seep into your skin and against your bones and into your bloodstream. “When you pick up the phone, or when you're humming something. I know it's… i know you think it's not meant to be heard. But I hear you. And i… I like hearing you.” he says. He likes hearing you. He likes hearing you. The words don't have shape. They wave over you, not tidal, not forceful, but like the same warmth of the blanket that rests over your shoulders, crinkled at the edges, a little worn out as if he’s been saying it to himself before giving it to you. 

God, and youve always been conscious of your voice. So when you speak next, its a surprise to you when its not the same whisper he was speaking in, instead only a bit higher than it, enough to contain only bits of your voice, the carvings on the roof of your mouth and the back of your throat and behind your teeth have no use hiding, now, because your voice projects forward just enough. Just enough because he thinks your voice is pretty.

“I… i like yours.” you say. Your eyes slip a little shut, and you feel more than hear him shift towards you, his arm crossing over your waist. “Its beautiful. Peaceful. Even when you're…insulting eren.” you sigh into his chest. His breathing holds you just as his arms, and his warm chest stutters a bit as if he’s taking a deep breath, something that tickles the parts of your hair that are near his nose. Every sound has its feeling, every sound creates waves and its on you to make them twice more meaningful as they are despite the words they hold, and even as jean gives you wordless reactions to your senseless but meaningful words, they're all accounted for. They're all just as important, just as held as everything else he’s said because its him.

“Thank you. For speaking to me. For letting me hear you.” you say with finality, no room for argument. As if he’d argue you. His lips press to the top of your head, unmoving. His palm covers your ear, making the soft sounds of his breathing muffled, but his thumb traces shapes of his sound against your ear. 

It tickles a little, but you hear the movement clearly. 

Sound waves, importance given to them. By you and by him. 

✿

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for leaving a DND campaign abruptly?

Some backstory: I had joined a DND game about 5 years ago right after breaking up with my toxic ex at the time. Me and my ex were both trying to be cordial at this time and ended up both joining a DND game run by a mutual friend.

In our first session, I had noticed my ex made her character be a parody of me that she made look like an awful person. She then kept dm-ing me during our sessions to tell me how to play my character better and other general backseat gaming stuff.

Very quickly, maybe about a month in, I contacted the DM about leaving the campaign due to wanting to distance myself from my ex. She was very upset I wanted to leave and offered to kick my ex from the group instead. I declined saying it would only cause more drama. The DM agreed to let my character go off at the end of the activity we were gonna do that session so it would make sense story-wise.

But this departure did not happen. after that conversation she vague-posted onling about how people dont want to be her friend. She then purposefully kept extending this part of the plot, just so I wouldnt leave the game and could realize it could still be fun. I told her outright I could not do this anymore after 3 more additional sessions and telling me she'll get to my character's exit soon. I always felt like an ass to the other players in the game for leaving them abruptly but I could not do it anymore.

Fast forward roughly 4 years, the DM tells me she is going to make a new campaign and would like for me to join since my ex was no longer in it. I agreed as I had missed playing DND a lot.

For the past year or so I have been in this campaign and it can be fun at times but I still feel out of place. This new session is a direct continuation of the previous campaign's storyline and regularly references it. Now, as far as I know my ex's character has not been referenced at all but I am constantly reminded of this situation whenever they mention a character's name I don't remember (because honestly I don't remember her characters name nor do I want to). I know I said to not bring her up around me but I don't quite trust this friend to keep her word. Simply because I don't think she ever remembers anything I tell her out of a place of... just not caring.

The DM and I just don't quite mesh that well. I don't really like her DM-ing style of making it up as the session happens. I don't like that she will constantly decide what my character is doing, even if I ask to do something, she tells me to roll to see if i can, i can get a nat20 and she will still decide what my character will do next based on what she thinks is funnier to her but makes my next action harder to accomplish.

I have dm'd her to talk about the progression of my character arc (after she constantly implys in session my character is the comedic relief and doesnt have any character development) and she'll go ooo and aaa (literally all she would say) but never actually implement anything I recommend.

I kept saying to myself it will get better in time. I have voiced my wants for my character, and they are ignored. In session, my character actions are essentially decided for me no matter how I roll the dice. It feels weird to be around half of the party bc they spent 4 years in a campaign with my ex who played a parody of me. esp hard after the DM keeps making me be the comedic relief even though I keep trying to play more seriously. other players constantly joke about how my character is gonna be the one that gets them all killed etc because of actions I dont necessarily decide.

Now as mentioned before, DM is also known to vague-blog about how "her friends secretly hate her" at any moment as well. This has happened before after I tried to "real talk" with her a handful of times over unrelated topics too (even if she initiates this conversation)

Given everything above, I want to leave this DND game after giving it a try for a year (really giving it an opportunity to improve). We left off with my character running off alone to get supplies for the party. I was thinking I could make a statement saying I had some personal things come up and I need to leave the game abruptly and leave it to the DM to decide what to do with my character.

Now I feel like I may be the AH because: I am leaving the game abruptly for a second time technically. I would contact the DM on how to make it make sense for my character to depart, but I feel like she will do the same thing as before with the previous campaign and keep putting it off, especially after ignoring my character growth ideas for a year in this current campaign. I also feel like I may be the AH because in character my group does need those supplies, but there is nothing stopping the DM from controlling my character to deliver supplies within the first 5 minutes of the next session.

[eph3merall]

2024 sturniolo tumblr appreciation post <3

i joined tumblr this summer during august something i believe, starting off as finding authors i enjoyed reading and stayed anonymous in some writers' inboxes before finally starting to write. i recently reached 1k followers and it has been suchh a dream to find mutuals and talk to some of the people who enjoy my writing :)

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@sturnioz ; cas !!!! we dont talk muchh, save for me appearing in your inbox a lot, but you are quite literally the sweetest ever. youre one of the people i was inspired by to create my own blog on here, and it was literally one of the best ideas ive ever made. i adore you soo much and you are one of the first blogs i was introduced to on this platform. immediately fell in love with your writing and personality, i know you are just the sweetest in real life. wish i could eat you out whenever you have a bad day or something idk but that isn't possible so i just wish for you to take it slow and not push yourself. i love you <3

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@cvnntagious ; rory i have soo much to say about you. you are so incredibly funny and i kinda fell in love with you the second we started talking. youre the cutest ever, and your writing is phenomenal. it never everr feels awkward to keep a conversation flowing with you, which is a very occurring problem i have with literally everyone i know !!! but its like i can kinda just not think whenever i talk to you and you have no idea how refreshing that is. sometimes i feel like things i say will get made fun of by who im speaking to, but it never feels like that with you. i feel like youre the most cunty (pun not intended) person ever in real life, truly. i wholeheartedly believe we would be great friends <3

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@55sturn ; my star babyy :( it always baffles me to look back to the ask you sent when i followed you back, because i was thoroughly obsessed with your works (and forgot to follow you) so i was kinda like huhh because you seemed so out of my league if that makes any sense. i want to kiss you because i know you dont always feel the best but i wish you take everyday slowly and care about yourself always. you are one of the first people i go to when i come up with something new to write about, because your opinion is genuinely so important to me honestly. the way your brain works is so fascinating to me (not in a weird way </3) and i hope we can have soo many more conversations in the future about whatever comes up. im incredibly awkward sometimes, but i hope u dont mind :)

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special shoutout to all of my mutuals whether we became moots more recently or not. i dont think i can tag everyone because i dont think i can check who im moots with </3 know if i didnt tag you, you are included and i love you !!! @darksturnz @phone4pills @clairomatt @ccxsturns @cupiidk1lls @mattslolita (im aware kiwi doesnt have access to tumblr rn)

i hope everyone has a good new years. i adore every single one of you !!!!

much love, vi 🤍

[eustasskidagenda]

hello im so excited that your ask box is open and youre taking requests! i dont request things often, so this might be a but of a weird concept, and i apologize if its too detailed. however the idea literally wont leave me alone. orz;;

maybe eustass kid has a crush on a somewhat reserved reader whose slow to open up and he hasnt quite realized thats what hes feeling until they stop on an island and meet readers childhood friend. they show a whole new side of themself with said friend by laughing openly, making stupid jokes, being much more physically affectionate. basically reader acts close with an old friend and kid gets jealous about it.

i dont mind if you do a oneshot, drabble, or headcanon, im just curious about your thoughts on this :3 thank you so much and i hope you have a great day!

Hello dear anon! Sure, I'm always happy to write for my pookie. It was fun to write, and it makes me smile a bit because Kid is such a mess, I love this angry tulip. Hope it will match your expectations. ☆

☆Kid with a s/o slow to open up

CW : g/n reader, a bit of cursing but fluff overall

WC : 700

Kid has always been loud. Whenever he's angry, he needs to shoot at someone. What can he say? His heart is filled with emotions, boiling and exploding like a thousand sparks. That's why you're a mystery. Always calm. Not letting others know what's on your mind. What makes you so quiet? He can't tell. 

Just like the moon and the sun, you are polar opposites. And yet, as the sun always chases the moon, he's always looking after you. And he's everything, but not discreet. Asking loudly for almost all of his crew what they think about you and why you are so reserved. 

Sure, he's used to introverted folks. Killer is one of them. But here's the difference: he can second-guess every word, thought, and breath of his best friend. He could probably achieve all of his sentences. And even through the mask, Kid could also guess the exact expression on Killer's face. 

Killer, who is likely aware that Kid has a small crush on you.

Kid is genuinely frustrated. Loudly frustrated, obviously. He needs to feel in control of everything and hates when he doesn’t have a full-understanding. Usually, he fails to notice reserved people because he's taking all the attention. But there's something about you: your slight smiles, the flash in your eyes, the way you're always listening to others but never talk about yourself. He can't tell why, but it keeps his mind alert. 

Perhaps you pose a bit of a challenge. Kid would never give two flying fucks about you if you were easy to see through. He's always looking after you because you're still a mystery. Sure, at the beginning, it was just to try to figure out who you really are. But now, it turned into something bigger. He hasn't noticed it yet, that’s all. Kid sucks with feelings. Feelings are actually something he hates because they make him feel weak. It puts his loved one in danger. Showing your weaknesses to enemies is a foolish move, Kid knows that perfectly.

However, everything is about to change. He decided to stop on that island for the day. For the first time, you asked to avoid robbery or harming anyone around. 

"Ugh, we're pirates, y/n" Kid doesn't want to look like a nice guy. He's a tough, rude pirate. He has a reputation to uphold. For him, the only good way to open a path is by violent means. Kindness? For what? If he's still alive today, it's because he toughened up and decided to never show mercy to anyone. 

"Fine, fine, I won't kill those people." Heavy sighs. But he wants to understand. He needs to understand. And finally, he's about to understand. 

Because suddenly, you're smiling heartily and running towards those scumbag strangers. What. The. Fuck. It's like seeing the sun after an eternity of blizzards and grey clouds. You're a bright light, a true sunshine. A burst of joy. You're joking, laughing, talking, and talking a lot. You never said more than two sentences in front of him, and now you're chatting endlessly with those strangers and hugging all of them. 

He's pissed off. Are those random people with terrible sense of style and ugly make-up better than him? The great Eustass "Captain" Kid? No way. 

"Guys, here's my captain, Kid. Kid, here are my childhood best friends."

Kid's face is a mess of angry scowls and boiling with frustration when they say hello. Why aren't you smiling as warmly when you're with him? Why is his heart pounding so hard, almost painfully in his chest? And damn, is it the cold or are his cheeks completely red? 

Poor Kid is both flushed and flustered. His first reflex is always exploding when he feels something. "Do you have a problem with me?" Barking through gritted teeth. 

He's ruining the happy-shitty mood and he doesn't care. 

So now, try to explain that you don't have a problem with him. Good luck, he's very stubborn. But once he's more or less calmed (because he's still pissed off), he still can't understand why his heart is racing at the sight of your soft, warm smile.

He wants to see that side of you more often. He wants to be part of those privileged people allowed to know the real you.

Yes, maybe he has a crush on you.

[soupdeewoop]

My HC:

So Dorcas, Reggie, and Remus all get together in the library and study. Sometimes they don’t even talk at all, but they love it because of the company. But they’ll also talk about some of the latest gossip at Hogwarts. It goes like this:

Reg: Remus, can you pass me that quill?

Remus: Oh yeah, here.

Dorcas: Did you know that one 1st year Ravenclaw burst his inkwell trying to get a quill out with his wand?

Remus: Amateur, he needs to practice his incantations.

Reg: I think he’s pathetic.

*all of them go back to studying and then every 10-15 minutes a small conversation strikes up*

Sirius, Marlene, and James all head out to the Quidditch practice field and just goof around. They will fly upside down on their brooms and watch as the others cry laughing. Something like this:

*Marlene riding her broom in a circle faster than the speed of light*

Sirius: MARLENE YOU LOOK LIKE A DONUT

*Marlene falls to the ground and gets up only to bang her head on a wall, much like a loony tunes character* James is on the grass dying of laughter, not even able to get up because that’s how hard he laughed.

So, Pandora and Pete head down to the lake and just talk about whatever’s on their mind. I could imagine a conversation almost like this:

Pete: Have you ever thought about why butter flies aren’t made of butter?

Panda: Yeah, I always thought that was sort of weird.

Panda would never make Pete feel foolish or stupid when he says something, but instead she actually adds her own thoughts and inputs to it.

Evan and Lily are both prefects and whenever they’re done with duty, they’ll go to the Marauders’ dorm room and sneak chocolate frogs out and eat them while talking to each other about the shenanigans they went through that day, something like this:

Lily: This 1st year hufflepuff was almost transfigured into a table!

Evan: No way, I think it was the 3rd year Slytherin that probably did that… you know, the one with a shining charm on his Slytherin patch?

Lily: He is so annoying, always talking about how many quidditch brooms he has at “daddy’s mansion.”

Evan laughs at her impression of the kid.

So yeah that’s how I think their conversation goes.

Next, we have Mary and Barty. Mary just does her makeup and Barty watches in awe as eyeliner perfectly laces her eyes. One day Mary notices him watching and asks him if he wants to wear it, Barty nods. Ever since then, Mary always does Barty’s eyeliner. He doesn’t wear is often, but when he does, it makes him feel powerful. She also is his kind of personal therapist? Here’s how it goes:

Mary: Stop moving, love.

Barty: Sorry. Mary: Love, you need to stop saying sorry for everything. You’re perfectly alright.

Barty: Mhm.

Barty looks at himself in the mirror and is stunned with how beautiful he looks. Evan comes back from prefect duty (and eating chocolate frogs with Lily) and practically faints.

All of them have these little things that they do together, most of the time the others don’t even know that they do it because that’s their little thing that they want to keep secret.

So, what do we think?

in a perfect world, this is how they all would have been 😔

ok now how did u type all of this omg

dorcas, reg, and remus are like meannnnnnn. mean meannnnnn. i like mean people so i dont rlly see the problem here like they definitely would get so much done but gossip at the same time like everyone's gotta learn how to multitask like them.

YES omg! i headcannon peter, marlene, and james being childhood best friends so like marls and jam (marls and jam sounds so cool wtf) are already close and sirius and marlene got closer through quidditch and like chaos buddies defo.

why arent butterflies made of butter. pete and pandora on top omggg i feel like pandora is very silly and talkative to like regulus and peter is quiet but it switched up so much like if anyone else saw them they would be like ...guyss.... whats happening..?

evan(s). not lily and even sneaking into the marauders dorm pleaseeeeeeee. they would be amazing honestly, like no shame to remus but my man is just trying to get through school yk? why him as prefect (not that i don't like it but in my mind its funny) evan and lily isn't something i rlly would have thought of yk, but i feel like they're both so secretly unhinged lol.

not mary gentle parenting him omggg neeeeeed. barty will look so stunning in eyeliner on god omg. evan being stunned is so true, i was the eyeliner tube :)

this was so fun omg thanks x

[saintadeline]

Ohhh I am trying so hard not to get mad at people online you have to believe me but that post about bloodborne liking women is driving me a little bit crazy not gonna lie. We can all so clearly see and point out misogyny in ds (um. Im hoping at least) so why can't we ever do it in bloodborne? Even though its the same people? What about bloodborne makes you think theyre feminists all of a sudden. Because it talks about women? Okay, but that's not how that works, a work that disregards women is misogynistic, that much everyone knows, but a work that does talk about women but portray them in a weird light can also very much be. Also whenever people say bloodborne is about women or femininity, a huge chunk of the time what they mean is bloodborne is about motherhood and pregnancy. Which is true, but thats... Not what womanhood is thats not what women are about you can't just reduce women as a concept to birth. And motherhood. And being caretakers. Almost every woman in bloodborne has less agency than their men counterparts, most of them are more strongly abused, shown as complacent and weak and only exist to serve. Even maria has no agency and is constantly driven back to the fact she was gman's apprentice and following he and laurence's orders. She has little identity outside of them in written down ingame lore and the one time she did something outside of them, is the one time she became a caretaker (because all women are it seems). The fact the og lady maria npc even exists is even worse on that part. I'm using her as an example because shes the one people most often take as an example of bb being good about women (look theres a strong female character!) but it's obviously much more than just her, just look at arianna and adella for more than one second. The only npcs i can think of that i would consider Actually Good And Normal About Women are eileen and fauxsefka. And i mean actual npcs im not counting bosses that we dont know much about on a personal level (like rom and amelia)

What I'm trying to say is, i think it's awesome when people have feminist interpretations of bloodborne and i think its a good thing to take those female characters for yourself and its a good thing to make the game as transgender and gay as you want it to be, and its perfect soil for that too, i do it all the time and find many many themes in it by myself, but we can't keep lying to ourselves that it was any good at it on its own. It's soulsborne for fuck's sake it has Always been Really Weird about women and minorities just look at ds look at firekeepers and gwyndolin and many other examples. Bloodborne isnt exempt from that just because men are writing about pregnancy as horror.

[galacticleague]

speaking my truth on npmd because im thinking about this alot. i think the reason it falls flatter than tgwdlm and bf as a musical is that tgwdlm and bf have a running theme — want.

(whole thing undercut)

the cast of tgwdlm want human connection - charlotte wants sam to love her, bill wants alice to love him, mr davidson wants his wife to choke him while he jerks off etc etc, and eventually paul goes from 'i want what anyone wants, money, kids, a partner maybe idk' to - to put it simply - wanting emma (putting it very simply, if i went into detail this post would go off the rails). this switch is what makes him vulnerable to the hive and this want to live and to survive and to be happy with emma is satiated by pokey by giving him the connection he craves via hivemind, this is how it works for everyone. they want to be happy, pokey makes them happy by removing any need to want anything in the first place.

similarly, in bf, the adults of hatchetfield are still miserable and they want to be happy, they have this void within them that they feel they need to fill with products and consumerism. if they buy this stupid fucking doll their kids will love them, they will be happy, etc etc. and this want to be happy is similarly satiated by wiggly via the cult - they have something to worship, or - in lindas case - people who worship them. they have purpose, or at least they think they do, but whether their problems have actually been solved or not - they are still content.

but in npmd, this is less solid. theres that bit where they have to sacrifice what they want the most, but this is near the end. its kind of all over the place, and this wobbliness(?) is sort of just emphasised by the fact that there is no specific lord in black, its all of them. now i loved the summoning when i first watched it because im obviously a huge hatchetfield fan so i like. know who these characters are but as ive seen others say, alot of npmd does rely on knowing hatchetfield lore - understanding injokes. and in hindsight it just... isnt great for the cohesion of the plot.

tgwdlm and bf both have specific themes, specific lords in black, they have subplots but they have a solid throughline that is easier to follow. to me, npmd feels like its all over the place and it just feels kind of...mid for lack of a better word.

i think there were some moments that were just kind jarring? i guess? like if i loved you coming directly after ruths death was really strange, tonally. i wish they spent more time on ruths death tbh she deserved better. richie got two songs and an opening scene. anyways i digress- i feel like whenever i think about it im always like. i just wanted More. which is weird cuz its already like 2 hours long but idk. IDK!!! if i loved definitely felt unnecessary to me- like just conflict out of nowhere. i would have liked more build up to it. maybe im just salty that it took up stagetime that could have been used to grieve ruth but. sorry for the random if i loved you slander i think my point here is that some moments and some subplots felt more tropey, injokey or like fanservice??but not in a sexual way?? - is that the right word to use idk - than actual compelling plot moments. tgwdlm is an incredible work of theatre and uses subversions of tropes to communicate a great story, bf is a detailed criticism of american consumerism and how capitalistic societies force people to rely on products to make their lives better, npmd is. high school drama with ghosts. it just doesnt hit as hard on its own.

i dont want to be one of those "im a better writer, and THIS is how i would have done it!!!! im going to fix this!!!" people so im not going to do that but i think something i would have liked to see was focus on just one lord in black, probably nibbly because i feel like he fits the most and has the least preexisting story. i mean for gods sake, why does wiggly have the most speech time out of all the lords in black again!!! he already has an entire musical about him!!! greedy bitch- well i guess thats kind of his thing. i think i just want to see more of nibbly tbh, he has one nmt story and he only shows up at the very end. anyways that was kind of a side rant sorry gang. there isnt a problem with having a story featuring all the lords in black, but i think it just doesnt quite work in npmd for like structural reasons as well as plot cohesion.

i did enjoy npmd, im not pretending i didnt, but narratively it is the weakest hatchetfield musical and i just wanted to put my finger on what it is specifically. please dont take this as like hate or slander, i am a huge starkid fan, but i think it is important to consume media critically.

also i am not a professional i am a teenage drama and english lit student who likes media analysis and narrative design so just. take everything i say with a grain of salt :)

if you read all this, thankyou and if you disagree please lmk what you think(civilly.i do not want discourse in my notes)!! i could be hugely wrong about this and just need to think more about npmd and id love to see others' analyses!

[smute]

[body image & ed tw]

let me preface this by saying that i have very loving and supportive parents. they were open-minded and willing to learn when i first opened up to them about my struggles with my body image and disordered eating a few years ago and my dad still walks on eggshells whenever these topics come up. and even my mom, who has her own issues wrt food and dieting (matrilineal family curse inherited by gay only child lmao) is always mindful of my... baggage. ever since that Big Talk back in 2018 neither of them has ever commented on my weight again (a once common occurrence) or on what/how much/how little i eat. that alone has made a huge difference in my recovery and i know that other people in my situation have to exist in much less supportive family environments, so i feel extremely grateful.

anyway. what i really wanted to say is this: last week my mom told me that my jacket looked nice on me, and i haven't been able to stop thinking about it.

the thing is, a few years ago, when i was slowly but surely en route to passing a certain weight threshold, both of my parents stopped complimenting me on my appearance. and this actually predates the Big Talk. im not saying that they synchronized their timing, and this wasnt something i noticed right away anyway, but once i started paying attention to it, it became quite obvious.

i mean my dad never really complimented me, he mostly just used to say those awkward things that straight men say to other straight men about broad shoulders or whatever, you know, things that could in a pinch be construed as a comment about athletic performance and provide plausible deniability. but my mom used to call me handsome all the time (even during my fatter periods) the way moms do, she used to compliment my outfits and my sense of style, she would never shut up about my height (which i used to be very insecure about) and how much she liked going out with me ("being seen on a tall man's arm" as she put it lmao) and she would even ask about my dating life and like. potential partners and all that. but one day she just stopped.

its hard to explain in a way that doesn't sound super weird. it's not like i was so eager to receive compliments from my parents. but like i said, once you notice it, it becomes really hard to ignore. and it's one thing to notice how the world's perception of you changes as you go from "chubby but it can be ignored" to "undeniably and irredeemably fat". but it's quite a different thing to observe that change in real time in the eyes of your parents—the two people in the world who are supposed to love you unconditionally.

i don't doubt that they do. love me, i mean. i don't believe that they're secretly ashamed of their fat son and only pretend to like me out of some sense of obligation. i do feel loved and supported and both of them regularly tell me how much i mean to them and that they are proud of me. but that's what makes this such a mindfuck. its really nothing more than a minute detail. and yet it is huge. i can tell that, in their perception, i went from "our son the eligible bachelor" to "our fat son whom we love but who unfortunately stretches our definition of an attractive young man''. and like. so what? right?

but now im in a place where i hear that innocent compliment from my mom about the jacket and immediately know that this is the first time in 7 years that she has said anything positive about my body, and with that context it suddenly becomes so much more than an innocent compliment

anyway. i dont know what i was getting at, if there even was a point to this, but sometimes it's the things you don't say.

[smalltestaccount]

okay i think ive come to the conclusion that i dont really fit in with most other trans women, like personality wise, and thats okay. Like i think recently a lot of trans women, not just on tumblr, have been making me think i have to be kinky and bizarre or something, be blasé about transitioning or gender roles, or even just like be okay with some borderline harassing behavior. Its okay if that is you (except the harassing behavior some of yall need to work on that), but like thats not really me. Acting this way just makes me feel bad. Just ignoring that Im a total straightedge, that im like a 1 on the Kinsey scale now. Ever since i was like 11 my biggest desire is just like being a normal cis girl. I always am happiest embracing basic American femininity, and i only just re-realized this after after it helped me get out of a depressive episode (along with antidepressants and an increased estrogen dose). I don't care if im "enforcing gender roles", because i fucking love female gender roles (in modern American culture) cause they make me feel like not-a-piece-of-shit. Also i don't strictly adhere to many anyways. And i just don't think terfs would have any issues with cis girls who love the color pink, flowers, being boy crazy, and dreaming about being a mother. So like why should I feel like its wrong to like that stuff? I don't think there is anything wrong with it. And you know if you don't have that relationship with gender that is fine, you need to do what makes you happy, that's why feminism exists. I'm just saying I don't want to pretend like my personality is something that really just makes me uncomfortable.

I dont like when people here imply being a trans woman entails being sexual cause like i just want to be normal and that stereotype is harmful, especially to transgender children who are really likley to be targeted for some kind of sexual abuse because theyre trans and being trans is already sexualized more than it needs to be. Adults can navigate that to some extent, but not kids; I couldnt really navigate that when i started transitioning in middle school and im lucky it only stayed online. Trying to even somewhat fit in with tumblrs idea of trans women has made me encounter tranny porn on my dash and whenever i post images of myself I'm followed by gross accounts that just reblog that stuff . A lot of trans women don't hate it, because sex work is very much as part of the trans community. But honestly, seeing trans women be treated in those ways just makes me feel bad for the actresses and sick about myself and very dysphoric.

Im not saying that you cant express kinkiness and hyper-sexuality, because I dont want to dictate how you act any more than i want you to be dictated on how I act. But I also want to encourage thoughfulness in what you say. Saying you, yourself, is kinky and weird, is not that same as saying trans *girls* are kinky and weird. In the same way I'm not going to reblog tradwife content, I don't think its productive to make an "all tgirls be kinky" post. You shouldn't try to paint that image of other trans women.

As its the first day of june I'll just tie it up by saying that not all trans people fit into one personality and if you want to show support its best not to suggest trans women all act a certain way, and please don't think talking about "gock" is a good way to show support. This isn't a "kink at pride" discourse post in the very slightest cause I don't, and never have, given any shits about that, cause I've never been to pride. This is just me talking about how I fit into the trans community.

Im Alexa and I'm going to reblog and post shit i like, not what other people like or expect. That Includes not doing tummy tuesday cause i really only briefly did it out of fomo and peer pressure. And please don't say things about me that you wouldnt say about other women

[jake-g-lockley]

I'm back :D

OKAY so I have TWO prompts you can feel free to pick from whichever you want!! if one has already been written/requests then thats okay (its mainly why i picked two jUST IN CASE!!!!!)

How aboutttttt the cutie pie moon boys with either prompt #15 or #21?! I DONT MIND EITHER WHICHEVER WORKS BETTER FOR YOU (im so indecisive and they're both so cute?!?)

THANK YOU LOVELY!!!

Poison Tree (Moon Knight x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be Tagged?

Prompt: the spider-man meme where they're all pointing at each other but it's a conversation like *i said i didn't like you like that because you said you didn't like me" "but i said i didn't like you because you were literally in love with someone else" then "i only said i was in love with them because you didn't want me!

A/N: Heya lovelyyy!! Thank you so much for the ask, I switched it up a tiny bit but I hope you like it ehhehe.

Warnings: everyone here is an idiot istg, a touch of angst, them not being able to say what they need to say, seriously; they have three people in their head and they’re that dumb? AHAHAH, light allusions to smut.

Word Count: 2.1 k 

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Buying things was something that plagued you like a weird disease that never went away. You didn’t have this type of luxury when you were younger, your mother always forced you to save whatever money you made and scared you into thinking that you would not have a single cent on you when you truly needed it. Funnily enough, when you started earning your own money, you gave in and started to spend on things that your mother would frown upon.

You stared up at the shelf of books before you, sighing frustratedly as you gazed at the beautiful new covers. You cursed yourself for walking into the new luxury bookstore that opened in the mall, your mother’s voice echoing loudly in your head. You screwed your eyes tightly and tried to imagine something that would pull you away from both the thought of buying the book and the sound of your mother’s grating voice.

You were laying down on the couch, your body aching deliciously from the weight of something covering you. Your hands were preoccupied, carding through soft curls as large hands squeezed your sides. You were smiling down at the person who was cuddling you close and the person looked up at you, big brown, doe like eyes meeting yours.

“You know I have those books in my flat?” a voice pulled you out of your little daydream making you gasp as you whirled around and your eyes met the same brown eyes you were imagining. 

Steven Grant was smiling at you, his lopsided grin matching his curls that flopped to his forehead. Steven always looked comfortable and you always had the inevitable urge to squeeze him. Oh, how you yearned to press your nose into his chest as you hugged him close. You faked a scowl and Steven’s grin got wider as his hand shot out and gripped your wrist.

“If you behave, I’ll let you borrow them someday.” his voice twisted your insides as he pulled you away from the shelf.

Your heart swooned whenever you were around Steven. He and the other two were your poison tree, the bunch you had intended to stay far away from but couldn’t get enough of. He gently pulled your book bag off your shoulder and slung it on his own as the both of you walked to the cafe that the both of you hung out at on a weekly basis. You’d mark your student’s exercise books while Steven did his research on the ancient artifact he was writing about.

At times, you’d feel his eyes on you and you knew it wasn’t exactly Steven looking at you anymore

“Hi, Marc.” you said, without looking up from what you were marking.

“I still don’t get how you do that.” The deep Chicago accent makes you shiver slightly.

“Your posture changes, dummy.” you said, earning a chuckle from him.

“How are the kids doing this week?” he asked, leaning forward to take a look at what you were marking. 

“Pretty good actually, their grammar is getting better and I think they enjoy my classes.”

“I’m sure they do, princesa.” came the beautiful spanish drawl. 

“Now, what did I say about switching mid conversation.” 

A long pause greeted you and you finally looked up from the book you were marking to see Jake staring at you with a satisfied smile.

“That it’s rude?”

“Mhmm.”

“I made you look though.” he winked at you and your insides turned into pure mush.

Outside, you rolled your eyes and casted your eyes back down onto the exercise book, holding back a grin of your own. 

“So, how is Mr. Daniels?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked back at Marc who was now leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed in front of him. You didn’t get why he would always ask you about the math teacher, you only called Mr. Daniels cute once in your life. 

“He’s good, I guess.” you took a sip of your coffee and bowed your head, not letting Marc see what was clearly written all over your face.

For months, you have been trying to get rid of the feelings you felt for the three men. They were absolutely beautiful and had personalities that fired up your very being, but an unfortunate incident stood between you and them.

Flashback

You and him were a little too close, you could see all of the little details of his face. You and him had demolished a bag of doritos and the empty wine glasses made the both of you giggle incredulously. You didn’t know who you were looking at, the alcohol muddling your brain as your eyes zeroed on the doritos dust at the side of his mouth. 

“You know I was thinking of asking Dylan out, the tour guide at the museum.” Steven’s voice burned a hole through your heart and you smiled, hiding the pain that coursed through you.

“You should.” you whispered, trying your hardest not to let your heart betray you.

“Jake suggested for me to take her out to that steak shop.” he leaned back into the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. 

“And what are you gonna eat there, silly.” you stifled a giggle.

“I dunno, bread, salad?” 

You tried to laugh the best you could despite the achy feeling at the pit of your stomach. 

End of flashback

“How’s Dylan?” you asked. 

“She’s alright.” Steven said softly. 

“Hmm.”

Your eyes caught a couple behind Steven and you smiled gently as one of them kissed the other one’s knuckles.

Jake noticed and turned around too, turning back to you with a grin and plucking the red pen out of your hand before suddenly taking your hand in his. Your heart blazed when you felt his lips on your knuckles and your breathing stopped for a second, his eyes shining with mischief. You quickly snatched your hand away from him and you could note the change in the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Hey, you know I was just joking, it didn’t mean anything.” he said quickly. 

It didn’t mean anything.

“Yea, I know, Jake , you don’t like me like that.” you said before you could stop yourself.

Jake’s thoughts raced as Marc and Steven panicked inside his head. They weren’t supposed to like you like that but they do and they wanted to stand on top of the table that you both were at and scream that fact at the top of their lungs.

You couldn’t mark anything anymore, with the way he kept reminding you of your failed love life. Your failed, unrequited love for them. You snatched the pen back from him and tapped the book in front of you, thinking of your next move. You quickly grab your phone and text one of your friends, Sam. Code red, the code you always used to get out of situations you didn’t like and you were feeling really uncomfortable with the energy you had created. 

A few minutes later, to your pure relief, your friend called you.

“Oh, umm, I have to go, Sam is stuck in a … situation.” you say as you frantically shove your stuff into your bag.

“Right, let me help you with that.” Steven said, standing up, a worried look on his face.

“It's okay, I got it.” you gave him a reassuring smile and tucked a five pound bill under the coffee.

“I’ll see you.”

“Yeah.” Steven rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if he had said anything out of the way, his heart pounding as he watched you walk out of the cafe.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You woke up hours later to a knock at your door. Your face was wet and you checked your phone for any messages, absolutely shocked to see about 14 missed calls from the boys, another five from your best friend and dozens of messages. You flung yourself out of bed and ran to the front door

You opened it to see a frantic Jake standing outside, his hair a mess. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you close, mumbling something into your hair in spanish.

“Shit, I thought something happened when you didn’t answer your calls. I called Sam and she couldn’t get a hold of you.” Jake’s voice was bubbling with tears and you looked up at him in shock. 

“Jake, I-” suddenly, his lips were on yours and you felt yourself being lifted off your feet.

The kiss was as frantic as he looked and you became putty in his arms as you tried your best to steady yourself. You pulled away and stared at the man in front of you, only to see Steven’s eyes staring back. Your hands came up to touch your lips and you couldn’t help but touch his lips too. 

“Sorry, fuck, I know you’re with-” you cut him off with another kiss and you felt all of your worries wash over you.

Your hands grip his face and you hold onto him until the both of you are out of air. 

“Fuck, what about Dy-” you pulled away and started to say, but Marc pushed you against the wall and caught your lips with his again, wordlessly asking you to jump as he gripped your hips hard. 

You jumped and wrapped your legs around his torso, your bodies sandwiched together. Your hands carded up his curls and you pulled on them for purchase, causing him to groan against your lips. 

“Wait, Marc, Jake, Steven, what’s happening.” you pull away, your confusion creeping up the satisfied feeling that you were feeling. 

You couldn’t tell who had control of the body as they pushed their forehead against yours, just holding you against the wall. 

“I don’t know,” you heard Steven’s voice whisper as he ducked his head lower.

Your hands were still in his hair and you pulled him closer.

“Put me down.” you whispered after a while and unlocked your ankles.

Their eyes were casted downward as they tried their best to not look at you. You pulled them to your dining table and busied yourself with making a cup of tea, chewing at your swollen bottom lip, wondering what had just happened. You wanted to feel it again so bad, the passion they pushed upon you was so fiery that you wanted nothing more but to have it course through your veins again. You sighed as you pushed the cup of tea in front of them.

“Whoever is fronting, could you please just explain what happened?” you calmly asked. 

When their eyes met with your’s, you could clearly see Marc’s sadness and it crushed your heart.

“We’re sorry we springed on you like that.” he whispered. “The truth is, I- we are in love with you.'' The last bit of his sentence came out like it was a harsh secret, clawing its way out of his voice box. 

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Fuck.” was all you could say as you swallowed down your own tears. 

“But we know that you don’t feel like that for us, so you-” he continued. 

“Wait, who said that?” you cut him off, your heart thudding in your chest.

“You did.” Steven mumbled. “Just now, we only said that we didn’t like you like that because you made it clear how you felt about us.” 

“But- but I only did that because you have feelings for someone else! You know? The woman you are dating!” 

“We only said that because you said you found the math teacher at your school cute!” Marc slammed his hand down, making you jump. “We’re not dating Dylan!”

“I was joking, you dumbass! Oh my fucking god!” you slammed your hands down and stood up, pushing Marc’s chair back and straddling him without another word.

You kissed him like you meant it, putting your soul out there so that it would meet theirs. All the anger you felt was channeled back into the kiss and you wanted them to choke on their own passion with the way you pressed yourself against them. Marc sighed against your lips and melted away, letting the body switch frantically between Steven, himself and Jake. When you finally felt satisfied you pulled away and gave them a small smile.

“You boys love me huh?” you brushed their fringe away from their face and looked into the eyes that held the only three that you would hand your heart to. “Well, I love you too, cowards.”

“Hey, watch who you’re calling a coward.” Steven’s hands gripped hard at your hips as he grinned up at you, leaning in and kissing you softly. 

After a while he brought his lips next to your ear, he whispers “This coward won’t let you borrow his books until he makes you forget your own name.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, wondering what awaited at the top of the poison tree you managed to climb up on. 

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

Taglist: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @excitedcurtain864 @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @spookyysilverr @bubblezuku

[1996harvest]

nottemdude brainrot....

under 18 dni // nsfw rambles ahead // dont like? block me

tagging just for reach since i have no mutuals yet,,, (i'll stop tagging after a few posts i proomiisseee)

this is a tamer post that covers a lot of non-nsfw headcanons as well but expect my posts to get a bit... heh.... 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 as i continue posting LMFAO

ugh all day today i could NOT stop thinking about dude & nottem. just imagining dude bending nottem over a table and making nottem take him raw, causing nottem to leave scratches in the wood <3 nottem wouldn't be very vocal, letting out totally-super-manly grunts unlike dude who i'd imagine is very comically vocal purely to piss off the neighbors

realistically dude is not that good of a performer, but a guy can daydream, right?

also, in the game (and the comics, for those who didnt know they exitsed) nottem is shown to be some big manly man (see: that frame in SUBSCRIBE OR DIE where he's... shirtless... for some reason????) but im of the opinion that hes a big sissy when it comes to dude. i like the headcanon that he became a mass murderer because of dude, and that hes actually just a big dude fanboy lol :P nottem being such a big fan would freak the fuck out of dude at first, but he'd probably stop caring after like, an hour of this emo freak following him around and begging for attention like a sad puppy.

so, obviously, since he's just such a big fan of dude, he would love to serve! i'd imagine him being at dude's beck and call for whatever... always on his hands and knees ready to serve (even at inopportune times or places) (scratch that, ESPECIALLY at inopportune times and places. dude's probably into some weird shit like that) i dont know whether he'd be more into praise or degrading, probably a mix of both depending on the day.

when they first meet, dude would be his friend at first, but both men being abhorrently touch starved it would go from "friends" to "friends with benefits" pretty quickly. they'd call each other boyfriends if nottem wasn't so internally homophobic, he'd probably say some shit like "dude is the only guy im gay for, so im basically not gay at all" but is also the same type of guy to be REALLY grossed out if a woman after flirted with him. dude would probably use that fact to tease nottem, forcing nottem say he's gay while fucking into him like a rabid animal or calling him things like "my girl" and other feminine nicknames to get him worked up.

(alternatively instead of being an asshole, he just calls nottem fem nicknames because nottem likes them better than masculine ones, for whatever reason that may be! whether its a gender thing or just something he enjoys :-)~

i really want to write a fanfiction about them but recently whenever i write smut, i really hate how it comes out... but ill be honest these two have been stuck in my mind for the entire day!

if anyone has any other nottemdude scenarios (fluff, smut, angst... mix of all three, i dont care!) feel free to leave them in my inbox (wink wink nudge nudge)

also guh this is my first post on this account so im a bit shy :pleading_emoji: but i'll probably get more graphic and writer-esque as i get used to this or as people leave feedback!

i'll try not to spam the tags toooo much lol just tagging for reach since im new and i need mutuals :broken_heart: