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notjustjavierpena · 2 months

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Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Haven’t written about these two for a while! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Joel finds an excuse to get out of watching the Olympics but only so he can go upstairs and find you getting ready to go out while listening to the summer’s biggest album.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, basically pwp, dad’s best friend, age gap, immorality kink, dirty talk, groping, fingering, possessive behavior. pet names, Daddy kink, unprotected piv sex, rough sex, anal threat, creampie, y2k vibes, brat summer

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58023772

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The TV is loud in your father's living room as the Olympics are on but Joel can concentrate on nothing but the thought of you being upstairs even if he had looked forward to seeing the competition in gymnastics this afternoon. He is here because it is tradition to watch whatever sports are on during the summer with your father, his best friend, but nothing feels the same since he started seeing you behind his mate’s back.

Carefully, he shifts his weight on the leather couch cushion, the heat of Texas making the material stick uncomfortably to the slightly exposed skin of his thighs. It creaks as he changes his position, leaning forward to grab his near-empty beer and sneak a look at your dad out of the corner of his eye. He tries to figure out if he knows that Joel has had his face buried between his daughter’s thighs just yesterday but he doesn’t even flinch, too absorbed in the intricate routine on the screen.

He leans back again and takes a long sip of the bottle in his hand, emptying it in case he has to think of a reply to a sudden question about you. It doesn’t come but instead, he receives a raised brow.

“You sure are thirsty there, Miller,” he says with a gentle grin, playful and normal in everything he does so that Joel may relax a little more. He laughs with embarrassment in return, a blush of guilt that he hopes is taken as shame creeping up from under the neck of his t-shirt.

“Hot day,” he answers simply. He covers up his train of thought with a conversation, “Did you see that landing? That was something else.”

Your father seems satisfied with that answer to the degree where he turns back to the television, “And that dismount. They’re gettin’ better and better each year.”

Joel follows his line of sight, fixated upon the tight suit of a female gymnast, and chuckles under his breath. He puts the bottle back on the coffee table, knowing he is no better than that; he can almost hear your soft laughter from upstairs as you chat with someone on the phone, can almost feel the warmth of your gorgeous body against his. This push and pull between what he should do and what he wants to do is slowly driving him to insanity.

Your father slaps the armrest in excitement as another woman does her routine without faltering, “Did you see that? Gold medal for sure.”

“Yes,” Joel lies like he has gotten so good at lately, for the first time in his entire life not very interested in sports, “Best thing I’ve seen so far, think you’re right.”

He is more busy with thinking about how to act in case you make your way downstairs, wearing a cute sundress and smiling at him like you always do but still in a way that it took him way too long to notice. He hopes you might give him the thrill of making an appearance soon.

During commercial break, your father gets up from the couch to get more beers from the kitchen and Joel has time to glance towards the stairs. He cranes his neck to see if you are standing at the top but he is left disappointed, left to imagine what you are doing upstairs in your childhood bedroom with the Hello Kitty computer mat. He remembers the way your tits were pressed against it the first time he fucked you and shamelessly hopes he’ll get to have you in this house again just once before summer ends. Perhaps today? No, he shouldn’t want to do anything with you in this house.

Time passes. Nothing happens. It’s with relief and disappointment that he concludes that he won’t see you, with a smile as he is handed another cold beer to not quite quench his thirst.

“Five more routines to go,” your father says with his glasses resting on the tip of his nose as he looks through the program on his phone, “Sprints later. Always exciting.”

“No volleyball?” Joel hates himself for joking with a wink.

“Not watching women in tiny shorts, are we?” Joel nearly jumps at the sudden sound of your voice, blushing at his own distasteful joke, “Didn’t know you were a pervert, Mr. Miller.”

“Mind your own business, you,” your father tuts with his eyes on his phone. It takes a moment before he glances over the back of the couch, giving Joel’s own eyes a second to stare at you while he clenches his jaw at the sight of your white sundress, tied in around your waist. You look radiant, pure, and forbidden. He wants to reach out to touch the bit of your thigh that peeks out.

“Another shitty day for women,” you roll your eyes teasingly and nudge him playfully in a way that sends electricity through his entire being. However, Joel tenses up at hearing you use foul language, an inside rule between you that he cannot tell you that you’ve broken.

Your father says your name in disapproval and glances apologetically at him, “Where did you learn to talk like that? Sure as heck ain’t from me. The kids you’re hanging out with tonight?”

Joel’s grip tightens on the couch as you giggle sweetly, the sound enchanting him to the point where he thinks of everything off-putting that he can come up with so his cock might flag again. He hopes it doesn’t strain against the loose fabric of his shorts. You are doing this on purpose, teasing him relentlessly now that he can do nothing about it, and he is so turned on that it makes him feel ill.

“Oh, you old man. You can’t keep me in line anymore. I’m over 21; I can do whatever I want,” you stand behind the couch and wrap your arms around your father, kissing his cheek from behind. Joel looks at the way your ass sticks out, quickly catching himself ogling when your father’s eyes fix on him with embarrassment.

“She’s incorrigible,” he says with resignation, patting the hand that you rest on his shoulder. Joel can only imagine what would happen if your dad knew what he was thinking about.

“I can imagine her being her own boss,” he laughs to make himself feel less like a creep but doesn’t quite succeed when your dad joins in.

“Why are you here?” Joel hears him finally say.

“I’m not drinking tonight,” you begin, pulling back a little to look at your father properly, “Can I borrow the car?”

He frowns for a moment but then nods, “Alright but be careful.”

“Always am, thank you, Dad. Love you,” you peck his cheek again to feel him smile, stretching to your full height. The wind blows in from the door to the garden and Joel catches a sniff of your perfume as you leave the living room, “I’ll go change now. See you, Dad! Joel!”

You disappear upstairs again and the atmosphere shifts significantly. Your absence sends him into small talk with your father, going over the usual topics of work, sports, and family. He tells your dad about a big upcoming project, that Sarah’s doing well at college, and that he actually never really cared much for cycling despite it being a massive hit each time the Olympics are held.

“Actually, I might head up for a sec,” he says when thoughts of you have raged long enough in his mind, making him shift in his seat before pushing himself to stand. He is too curious about seeing you, too desperate to have you alone, “Nature’s calling, and I can’t wait for the commercials.”

Your father chuckles, eyes still glued to the television where they are handing out medals, “Sure thing, Joel. You know where it is. Tell my offspring to get out if she’s barricaded the door.”

Joel nods, giving a relieved smile, and quickly makes his way upstairs. His heart pounds with the anticipation of the moment ahead. As he reaches the top of the stairs, he hesitates briefly, listening for any sound of where you might be, and sure enough, he hears the faint hum of music coming from the bathroom and walks towards it.

Without knocking, he opens the bathroom door and finds you in front of the mirror, applying makeup to a song that he has never heard. The sight of you makes his erection come right back; you have changed into a pleated miniskirt that stops way above your knees, making the skin where your thighs meet your ass peek out. Above the waistline, he can see the waistband of your pink underwear and he has to adjust himself in his shorts.

“Where the hell are you going looking like that?” He demands to know, shutting the door behind him with a click. The music fades to the background as you wiggle your hips automatically.

You look up from your lips, catching his eye in the mirror, and smile sweetly while applying lip gloss. The color makes your lips seem plumper, the shine most likely to accentuate your cupid’s bow if you were to stretch your lips around his cock. You look away again, purposely acting like a brat, “Out with friends. No boys allowed.”

“Seems like you’re dressed to impress someone,” he retorts. If you were to check him out again, you would see the way his eyes are going down your intoxicating figure. He stops at your ankles, knowing how you would be standing on your toes if he touched you between your legs, before going all the way up to your face again.

You snap the lid of the lipgloss closed with a click and place it on the counter. You grab the edge with both hands, still looking at him through the mirror, “Did it ever occur to you that I might be dressed to impress you, Daddy?”

Joel does a sharp intake of air at hearing his nickname. He takes a step closer and you allow him. Without a second thought, he places his hands on your gorgeous hips and squeezes until your giggles make the upbeat song sound like garbage, “You’ll have me thinking about you all night with this skirt, kiddo. I’m not sure I’ll have it.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’ll feel your menacing presence all night?” You grin playfully, making a show of arching your back the way you sometimes do when he hits the right spot inside of you.

“I should run behind you to make sure you don’t expose your pretty pussy to strangers,” Joel lets his dominant hand slide down your thigh until he can clutch the fabric of your miniskirt. He pulls it down roughly to stress his point, covering you up as much as he can.

“You’re pulling it the wrong way, Daddy,” you tell him with a bratty grin, chewing your bottom lip to play innocent, “Don’t you want to have a peek? I’ll let you see up under it.”

“Daddy can’t promise only a peek,” he replies, making a point of his words by letting his bulge graze your ass. You push back into him to allow him whatever he wants without saying it explicitly, earning a moan that’s loud enough for you to reach for the small Bluetooth speaker and increase the volume a little. Your father must question the noise but he hopes that he simply thinks you’ve gone to your bedroom instead, letting the door stay open.

“What the hell is this garbage music?” Joel asks as he steps back to allow you to reach back effortlessly. You reach behind you to grip the hem of your skirt, lifting it with deliberate slowness. It is a teasing gesture, more about the act itself than the reveal of your lacy underwear that clings to your cunt and gives him the perfect outline.

“Stop sounding ancient,” you tease, shifting your weight from one foot to the other to strut your ass. You’re leaning forward a little to be more appealing, so easy to push forward so you have to grip the sink.

“You’re making it sound like a problem, Princess,” he replies with a chuckle. Yes, he could shove you down onto the counter but he chooses to finger the crotch of your barely-covering panties. You don’t seem to have predicted that he would actually dare to touch you in your father’s house, so you fall forward when he pulls your underwear to the side and sinks two fingers into your wet slit. He smiles tauntingly at you in the mirror, “Don’t act like you don’t cream yourself over older men like me or we wouldn’t be in this mess together.”

“What are you doing?” You ask with your glossy mouth hanging open. He turns his wrist to press against your g-spot and sure enough, you’re already on your toes with a filthy moan tumbling out your mouth. He admires the way you always manage to look stupid and cute when he touches you, and he notices that whenever he doesn’t pump his fingers inside of you, you fuck yourself onto them.

“I ain’t doing nothing,” he says casually and slowly drags his two fingers over the spot that belongs to him, the spot he always searches for and likes to stay on. The song is horrible for fucking but it’s loud enough that you can’t be heard downstairs and quiet enough that he can hear the wet squelch when he goes a little faster, “I’m just giving you something to remember me by when you’re showing your pussy to the whole world.”

“That’s not… Joel,” you say his name and he almost believes that you want him to stop but then you arch your back just how he likes and he slips his thumb between your folds to rub your clit. He has your cunt in an iron grip, flicking his wrist repeatedly to see beads of slick threatening to drip onto the tiled floor.

“Nuh-uh,” he sternly says and halts just a few seconds, “You don’t get to call me that when I hear you use your potty mouth around here. Who do you answer to?”

“You, Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whine and earn added pressure to your clit. You keen but then the song ends, and the both of you hold your breath for a moment. Courageously, you whisper, “He’ll hear.”

“Not if you shut your mouth,” Joel barks quietly back, relieved when another annoying pop song comes out of the speaker. He catches the pout on your lips in the mirror, the fake offense on your face that has his dick throbbing in his shorts. He needs to fuck you soon, hasn’t got a long time to do it before your father will get suspicious of what he is up to, but he won’t shove his cock in you before you have begged him to do it.

Then the line comes with a breathless moan, “You shouldn’t be doing this.”

Oh, so that’s the card you want to play to get fucked. He pushes his fingers deeper into you until his knuckles brush your ass, avoiding your g-spot altogether, and practically lifts you on his digits. Your whole chest lays down over the sink and counter, your whole weight on your front instead of on your toes. It must hurt but not more than a dull ache when he pays attention to your clit as he does it.

“I sure as fuck shouldn’t but I didn’t think I’d find you dressed like a little cockhungry girl in here,” he tuts and abuses your perfect cunt. God, it sounds like he is splashing with water by now.

“I-I should be with someone my own age,” your voice shakes, your walls start to pulse slowly around him. It becomes hard for you to continue your chastising, ”God, you feel so good, Daddy.”

“Yeah? Ancient Daddy should pull out his fingers and fuck you while you’re on the verge of coming for him?” Joel mocks. He pushes down and drags the pads of his fingers against your front wall on the way out. His fingers are white with your creamy slick. He smears it over your quivering slit, talking softly while you are almost cross-eyed, “I need you, baby. Daddy has to do it even though it’s wrong.”

“No,” you protest but don’t mean it. You look back at the sound of his shorts being pulled down, whimpering feebly as his hard cock comes into your view.

“Yes, sweetheart, I gotta,” he holds the base of his cock in his hand, slowly dragging the tip through your messy folds. He pushes against your ass first, chuckling darkly when you tense up and shake your head. He teases you, “No? That’s not where you want it? Don’t want to get ass-fucked with your old man downstairs? This skirt surely tells me you like taking it up the ass.”

“N-no,” you let your head hang between your shoulders, exhaling shakily, “I want it in my pussy, Daddy. Please. Until you come inside.”

Joel gives in when you ask so nicely. He presses the head against where you need it the most, slowly letting your warm walls engulf his length while you release a relieved breath. He growls from low in his throat as he buries himself deep inside, touching where his fingers have been just moments before.

“You sure change your mind quickly, baby,” he points out after starting a rough rhythm that makes his thighs smack into your ass, the crotch of your panties straining against your cheek that bounces in rhythm with his thrusts. He settles his hands on your hips, dragging you onto his cock as much as he spears you onto it, “First you say no, and now you wanna get bred? What happened to my good girl?”

“I know it’s bad but it feels so good,” you pant softly, nearly sounding animated with how you moan and groan. You’ve reached to grope your tits through your lime green top, caressing yourself greedily as you are drowned out by some lady singing about Von Dutch, “Don’t stop, Daddy, please don’t stop.”

“Fucking hate this song,” Joel grumbles breathlessly while he keeps a steady pace, nudging something just right inside of you because you fly forwards, “Don’t tell me you’ll go out dancing to this.”

“I’ll come to it,” you groan, sucking in a breath as you start to squeeze around his girth, “Gonna come.”

“Give it to me,” he demands with heavy breathing. He lets one of his hands slide up your spine until it sits on your neck. He tilts his hips forward so he can pound you, rewarded with a squeak that he finds adorable.

Suddenly, the room goes completely quiet. The both of you turn your heads towards the speaker, noting at the same moment that its battery has run out and the possibility of getting heard has upped dramatically.

None of you say a word. Joel even tries to stop his heavy breathing, putting pressure on the back of your head when you squeeze him by wriggling slightly. He makes a quiet noise of disapproval, “Stop it.”

“We aren’t done,” you whisper with a wounded whimper. You try to fuck yourself onto him, “Daddy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he bites, listening for potential footsteps that could lead to his doom. Instead, he hears your father cheer in reaction to something on the television. Should he? He can’t go downstairs again with a raging hard-on and there’s no way in hell that he is jerking off in here alone like some perverse madman. He makes a decision.

Leaning down over your very still frame, he catches onto the tears that have welled up in your eyes and whispers, “I’m gonna fuck a load into you and you’re gonna be quiet all the way through, got it?”

You nod frantically. Joel’s hand on your hip tightens and he pushes to stretch to his full height again. He bottoms out inside of you, “If you can do that, I’ll let you come on it, okay?”

You nod again, pushing back eagerly to impossibly swallow more of him. With determination and efficiency, he draws back and slams into you with all the muscles in his neck straining to keep quiet. You feel like you have been molded into a perfect sleeve for his cock, like he couldn’t imagine that anyone could ever live up to what you are giving him right now; cheeks bouncing, spine arching, and walls clenching as you teeter on your high.

You come with a tiny whine that he’ll allow and he comes right along with you, high on the danger and the fact that you belong to him so desperately. He manages to just sound like he is doing a sharp intake of air, hinting at a growl, before he fills you with his warm seed, each pulse of your soft muscles milking him dry.

It is a dangerously addictive sensation. He pumps in and out of you until he is too sensitive, slipping out of your used cunt so he can see the drip of his load. He stumbles backward, tucks himself, sticky and overstimulated, back into his shorts, and watches you pull down your underwear and move to the toilet to not spill all over the floor.

You sport a lazy little smile, satisfaction all over your face. It dawns on him what he has done - the deprivation of it - so he tries to distract the feelings of disgust that he has towards himself, “Why are you going out anyway?”

You are both still panting. He grabs onto the sink to steady himself, feeling old as he leans against it while you pee, your knees falling inwards so you look innocent compared to what you have just done together.

“Getting a tattoo,” you reply with a dirty little smile.

That surely changes Joel’s train of thought. He straightens a little, “Of what?”

“Don’t know yet but I’ll tell you where,” you reach to point to your hip bone, measuring about an inch with your thumb and index finger. You beam girlishly at him and he feels his chest tighten with affection, “Right here. Cute, right?”

“Cute,” he manages to say as his mind automatically imagines it right there on your hip but the word comes out a little rougher than intended. He is let in on a little secret that only a few will be allowed to see. Perhaps, he’ll be the one who gets to be the very first to see it, or maybe the one who gets to be the closest.

You finish, wipe yourself, and wash your hands. Then once again, you are close to him but this time it is chest to chest. You link your arms around him, leaning close, “Perhaps I’ll get something that reminds me of that one time I hooked up with Joel Miller, my dad’s best friend.”

“Dangerous game you are playing,” Joel reaches down to graze the spot on your hip with his thumb. He is so into you that it is ridiculous, smirking as you bat your eyelashes at him and filling him with youthful energy that he remembers from crushes in his teenage days. The idea of you marking yourself for him has his head in a spin and has his cock stirring again.

“What can I say? I’m a brat,” you shrug with a grin and when you both hear your father shout at the TV again, you grin with your tongue in your cheek. Yes, you are.

“Oh, babydoll, you make me wanna kiss you,” he almost growls as he leans into you, eyes focused on your cute glossy lips as he tries to capture them despite knowing that he won’t be allowed to touch them.

“Nope, not the gloss,” you tease and gently push him away on his chest. When he tries again, you hold your hand over his mouth and he groans against your soft fingers like from not getting his way. You grin, eyes shining with affection, “Now get out so I can clean myself up. And don’t tell my dad about the tattoo.”

“Fine,” Joel gives you one last lingering look, squeezing your hip before pulling away. He leaves the bathroom reluctantly, stepping backward as he walks out the door to keep his eyes on. You roll your eyes at him without being able to stop smiling.

When he is out in the hallway again, he heads back down the stairs and into the living room. He pats the back of the sofa to make himself known in the room once more, startling your father slightly.

“There you are,” he says, watching Joel walk around the sofa, “What took you so long?”

“Got talking with your kid,” he answers as casually as he can muster. However, your father seems to be completely disinterested in whatever he has been doing upstairs.

“What? Oh, yeah. At least you got her to turn off that awful noise she calls music. Come on, you’ll miss the final run,” he says obliviously, and so Joel joins him in the chair opposite his couch to make sure he doesn’t smell how he probably reeks of sex.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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growling · 4 months

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*average self-proclaimed safe space tumblr blog voice* I soooooo support people with schizophrenia that must be so hard to you anyway I just saw some weird looking woman talking to herself right outside my house im fearing for my life should I call the cops. Yeah dude I support all the adhd havers in the chat just try to pay attention when I talk to you it's not that hard it's like the least you could do to show some regard for the other human being in front of you. Like it's fine to have memory problems but why did you forget this one thing in particular that was important to me do you like not care or anything you should try harder. I am one of the only real mental health advocates to still exist in this world I hear your struggles that being said I hope I never get to meet one of those irl sociopaths or people with aspd whatever they call them now they're so freaky and they can blend into society so well you might never know if you're actually face to face with an actual socio i mean person with aspd in the store absolutely one of my biggest fears what if they torture me in their basement. I absolutely empathize with all the people in here suffering from delusions as long as they like, don't actually show it or have one concerning me that'd be highkey uncomfy leave me out of this dude im not talking to you until you get help, anyway my fav character from my anime just presumably died but i still think they actually survived im sooo delulu lol. We should push for more wheelchair accessibility in our cities I agree but like it's so difficult to tell how many people are actually disabled and who are actually faking it, like, ummm why did that "wheelchair" "user" guy stand up just now cover blown lmaoo…. Yeah I support people with facial differences but I still have a right to be disgusted you can't control my emotions anyway can you tag your selfies as #body horror this deeply triggering to me. Speaking of triggering can you also pleaseee hide your scars or at least warn us beforehand jesus do you know how many people genuinely do not want to see it. Here is my extremely fast strobing lights and flashing gifset #epilepsy. Yeah I loveee girls with bpd beautiful princess disorder am i right they're so interesting the stigma sucksssss i'd love to get to be one's favourite person as long as they don't actually have any of those weird or violent symptoms or don't go into any of their "episodes" near me like that's a bit dramatic….. I deeply feel for those who had underwent narcissistic abuse from the hands of an npd I think my shitty ex boyfriend was a narcissist too tbh #surviving narcissism here are 10 signs you are dealing with a narcissist and here's a tutorial on how to trigger a narc crash to epically own them anyway does anyone else think we should start enforcing mandatory castration of all the newly diagnosed narcs like you know what happens when they reproduce right. But I am willing to support them as long as they go to therapy to get that fixed it's just you know. Anyway sometimes hospitalisation is fine if they're genuinely a danger to themselves like what do you want them to go live on the streets or actually get help?? I support all the people dealing with being a professionally diagnosed disordered system and I think it's sooooo terrible how literally 99% of the youth population nowadays is purposefully faking it for attention I did my research (1 minute google search, 2 minute r/fakedisordercringe scrolling session and consulting a single system that agrees with me). It's just not believable to me that there's really that many people with it isn't it supposed to be rare… Also are we really sure all those alleged people in their heads are really real or just their imagination maybe all of them are actually faking it huh food for thought. I am very uncomfortable with nonverbal high support needs ppl actually having sex like consent is supposed to be explicitly verbal only and, are we really sure they can even consent arent they like basically children. You can't call me ableist I'm literally autistic

#mine #actually autistic #actually npd #actually plural #ableism #sanism #npd stigma #bpd stigma #pluralmisia #<- gonna add on to these later i am. bad at tagging warnings #i needed this off my chest like. can these people stop #dont know how comprehensible this is im bad at articulating myself #long post

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royalarchivist · 8 months

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Ramon had a cute idea for the Huevitos (members of Fit's community) to fill the #ramonbday tag with art and kind messages so he can show them to Fit for his birthday (February 1st), so here's my contribution! I have over 800 Fit-related clips, so it was hard to choose just a few fun moments from stream :'D

Even though the QSMP server won't be open until February 3rd, we still have a few more days to share messages, art, etc. – so if you'd like to post something for Ramon to potentially include in Fit's birthday surprise, make sure to post it by January 31st and use the tag #ramonbday!

[ Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

–

Fit: I can't believe I'm a homosexual now.

–

FitMC 2023 - 2024 Highlights

–

Vegetta: Leonarda, give me the picture.

Fit: Leonarda, you should give him a picture.

Vegetta: It's for saving your life!

Fit: [Picks up the photo she dropped] Oh, now I have it. [Sees its a photo of Vegetta and Melissa in their stripper outfits] Oh. Oh my.

–

Fit: It's a life experience Tubbo, you know? Aren't you glad you–

Tubbo: "Life experience" deez nuts, you bald bastard.

–

Fit: Ok, I'm looking through the bars– There's like, yeah–

Pac: [Falls off the wall] AAAAA–

–

Fit: [Dumping his wild cats in the Bakery] I'll just– I'll just release them in here. Screw it. What's the worst that could happen?

[The next day]

The big cats are still, uh– [Sees the cats mauling the Baker] Oh my god. They do NOT like the Baker

–

Jaiden: Fit, you're just a guy, right?

Fit: I'm just a dude. I'm just like– I'm just like the generic RPG protagonist. Like, human male, warrior. Like, it's– I'm as vanilla as you can get

Fit: Sneeg– shut up, I'm doing gay roleplay right now!

–

Fit: Tubbo, if you want to disable mines, you are disrespecting the entire Hispanic community.

–

Fit: What are you doin' staring at me, Baldy? Yeah, you think you're hot sht?

[The Binary Monster shows up]

Fit: OH, FCK–

–

Fit: The oldest anarchy server in Minecraft.

Fit: The youngest gay roleplay server in Minecraft.

–

Fit: [While playing "Hide and Seek" with Ramon] If he moves, then I know that was the spot.

Ramon: [Stares at him as the Metal Gear Solid "discovered by an enemy" vwing! sound plays]

Fit: [Cackles] WHERE YOU GOIN' BOY? WHERE YOU GOIN' BOY?

–

Fit: To be a turtle in the Arctic, you hate to see it. Yeah, you know this turtle is... not so different from me. It's living in a place that's trying to KILL it.

–

Tubbo: [To Pac] Just lay down. [Starts Casualonas-ing] This is for you.

Fit: [Immediately equips his weapon]

Tubbo: This is for you, king.

Pac: [Laughs] Fit - you see this?

Fit: [Shoots Tubbo, who starts screaming] I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Uh-

Tubbo: Ok, ok, well he–

Fit: Misfire, misfire, misfire!

Tubbo: He wasn't- he wasn't- OW OW OW!

Fit: Misfire!

–

Fit: Sometimes- it's not about doing the right thing, Phil – it's about doing the more entertaining thing. Right?

Phil: PFTTTTT–

Fit: They banned my ass. They're like, "Why are you talking to Pac like that?" That's unacceptable on this family-friendly Christian Minecraft server (TM). Like– "We can't be having any of that." "Can't be having any of THAT."

–

Cucurucho: [Slowly turns to stare at Fit while Pac is talking to him]

Fit: [Silently starts cracking up]

Pac: Ok Cucurucho, I'm gonna be waiting for your response

–

[Fit putting up art that Ramon drew]

Foolish: Boo it if it's bad!

Fit: Heyyyyyy! That's actually –

Foolish: Oh! Wait, that's– That's actually pretty good, what the fck.

Fit: Ramon, you weren't supposed to actually try. This is incredible!

[They both laugh]

–

Pac: Yeah, yeah! I was–

Tubbo: Everyone goes through their dick phase.

Fit: Yeah...

Pac: Yeah, everyone does.

Fit: Oh? Oh– is that so, Tubbo? Yeah?

Tubbo: Everyone- everyone–

Fit: When did you go through your dick phase? [Laughs]

Tubbo: I'd argue I'm in my dick phase right now.

Fit: Uh, you know, speakin' of spruce– you know Bruce Lee, right?

Phil: Yeah?

Fit: If Bruce Lee was a plant, he'd be Spruce Tree.

Phil: [Disappointed grumbling]

Fit: [Laughs]

[Fit gets kicked off the server]

Fit: [Laughs even harder]

#FitMC #Morning Crew #QSMP #ramonbday #Fit #Ramon #Edited #Subtitles #AT LAST #It always takes forever to write the transcript of these subtitles #hopefully I didn't miss too much #anyways. I do have so many frickin clips it was hard to narrow it down #I love the wii music it really is the perfect background music for these kinds of videos #Portfolio

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intervex · 2 months

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What Pride Flags Mean, Part 1: Gender and Attraction

Welcome to the latest installment of my autistic hyperfixation on flags! I wanted to figure out a common language of Colour X means Thing Y. Like how pink is consistently used for feminine.

Having a common language for flag meanings matters because it improves cognitive accessibility of flags. ♿️💙

But I didn't want to be prescriptive about what colours should mean what. Just because I think Thing X should go with Colour Y doesn't mean everybody else would.

So this turned into a descriptive, empirical project. I gathered a data set of 2060 pride flag colour choices to figure out what are the most common colour-meaning combinations. Some of the results:

And here are the abstract modifiers: these are modifiers that were generally shared between the genders and the attractions. For example, black is used to indicate having no gender as well as having no attraction.

Click here for tables with okLCH values, hex values, definitions, and notes - I've put a more detailed write-up on my Wikimedia Commons userpage. (Mediawiki supports sortable tables and Tumblr does not.)

METHODS-AT-A-GLANCE

To make the figures above, I assembled a data set of pride flag colours. It contains 2060 colour choices from 624 pride flags, representing 1587 unique colours. Click here for a detailed description of how I gathered and tagged the pride flag colours and tagged them.

For each tag, I converted every colour to okLCH colour space and computed a median colour. OkLCH colour space is an alternative to RGB/hex and HSL/HSV. Unlike RGB/hex and HSL/HSV, okLCH is a perceptual colour space, meaning that it is actually based on human colour perception. 🌈

In okLCH space, a colour has three values:

- Lightness (0-100%): how light the colour is. 100% is pure white.

- Chroma (0-0.37+): how vibrant the colour is. 0 is monochromatic. 0.37 is currently the most vibrant things can get with current computer monitor technologies. But as computer monitor technologies improve to allow for even more vibrant colours, higher chroma values will be unlocked.

- Hue (0-360°): where on the colour wheel the colour goes - 0° is pink and 180° is teal, and colours are actually 180° opposite from their perceptual complements.

The important thing to know is that okLCH Hue is not the same Hue from HSV/HSL - the values are different! (HSL and HSV are a hot mess and do not align with human colour perception!)

You can learn more about okLCH through my little write up, which was heavily influenced by these helpful articles by Geoff Graham, Lea Verou, and Keith J Grant.

You can play with an okLCH colour picker and converter at oklch.com

🌈

MORE RESULTS: COLOUR DISTRIBUTIONS

Back when I started tagging my data, I divided my data into five main chunks: Gender qualities (e.g. masculine, androgynous), Attraction (e.g. platonic, sexual), Values (e.g. community, joy), Disability (e.g. Deaf, blind), and Other.

I'll talk about Disability and Values in future posts! But for an alternate view of the data, here are the full distributions of the colours that were placed in each tag.

They come in three parts: tags I created for Gender, tags for Attraction, and tags from Other. The abstract modifiers are spread between the first two, though their contents transcend Gender and Attraction.

Some distributions have a lot more variance within them than others. Generally speaking, major attraction types tended to have the least variance: sensual attraction is really consistently orange, platonic is really consistently yellow, etc.

Variance and size do not correlate. Many of the smaller tags are quite internally consistent. I don't have a ton of tags in "current gender" but they're all the same dark purple. Xenine/xenogender has a whole bunch of entries, and there's a really big spread from blue to yellow.

Some tags, like intersex as well as kink/fetish show there are a small number of different colours that are very consistently used. Whereas other tags like masculine show a very smooth range - in this case from cyan to purple.

Overall I'm pretty satisfied with how things wound up! 🥳 It makes sense to me that an umbrella term like xenogender would have a lot of variance. What honestly makes me happiest is just how many tags wound up 180 or 90 degrees from their opposites/complements. 🤩

Not everything lined up nicely (the opposite of drag is .... neuroqueer? awkward.) 🤨 Some things lined up in hilarious ways, like how initially I had the opposite of kink/fetish being Christian (amazing.)

But as a whole, there's a lot of structure and logic to where things landed! I hope this makes sense for other people and can help inform both flag making as well as flag interpreting (e.g. writing alt-text for existing flags). 🌈

I'm hoping to post the Disability and Values analyses in the coming days! If you want to learn more, my detailed notes along with tables etc are over on my Wikimedia Commons userspace. 💜

Everything here is Creative Commons Sharealike 4.0, which means you're free to reuse and build on my visualizations, tables, etc. Enjoy!

#lgbt #lgbtqia #mogai #mogai flag #mogai flags #lgbtq flags #lgbt flags #lgbtqia+#vexillology #flags #colours #oklch #colour nerdery #colour theory #colour science #cognitive accessibility #design

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hypnoneghoul · 2 months

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Ain't No Hope In Hell

WC: 3k

Relationship: Zephyr/Rain

Tags: Disabled Characters, POTS Rain, Fainting, Semi-Public Bathroom Sex, Transmasc Rain, Non-Binary AFAB Zephyr, Cunnilingus, Minor Gender Dysphoria, Tail Sex

T4T Zephyr and Rain fuck in a disabled mall bathroom after the water ghoul has a fainting spell. That's literally it.

Notes: Commission for @everybodyshusband!!! Also tagging @ominousposting because we talked about these two deserving such action a while ago :3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

The bond that Rain and Zephyr share confuses many. They don’t spend much time together and when they do it’s either to sit in silence for hours or fuck viciously for just as long.

Sometimes one follows the other.

Still, despite it seeming so shallow and even toxic to outsiders, the two ghouls need each other. They understand each other in a way that no other ghoul ever could. Their relationship is in their hearts, minds and souls, not so much in anything that’s on the surface.

And like this, Zephyr and Rain love each other fiercely.

One of the things neither of them would ever be accused of enjoying that they do enjoy when together, is going out. Not to clubs, bars or anything like that; what they like is simple dates like going shopping or to the cinema.

Today they decided to take a train that leaves every hour from a station a few minutes away from the Abbey and go to a mall. They didn’t have any big shopping plans, just mindless browsing, so to speak. If something would catch either of their eyes they’d get it and be pleased, but they’d be as content to leave with empty hands, only having spent that time together. They can also get some food in there, maybe dessert, too—that’s the thing Zephyr and Rain love about malls; there’s everything there.

Well, maybe they are not very fond of the amount of humans they inevitably encounter every time, but that can be overlooked.

And they are having a great day, indeed, until Rain starts feeling unwell.

“Zeph? Think I’m gonna have a spell,” he mutters, blinking hard as his head sways on his neck. The air ghoul reaches out to grab his wrist and turns it to see his watch. His pulse is going one hundred and fifty beats per minute. “Can we go find a bathroom?”

It definitely isn’t anything more dangerous than his usual episodes, so they should be fine without professional medical assistance, but it needs to be taken care of nonetheless.

“Yeah, of course,” Zephyr says, “it should be just around the corner, are you gonna make it or do you want to switch aids?”

“I–I’ll make it,” the water ghoul breathes shallowly, leaning heavier on his crutch, “just gonna go slow behind you.”

“Alright, puddle. Alright, let’s go.” Zephyr grabs their wheels and rolls on slowly, looking over their shoulder every five seconds to make sure Rain isn’t doing worse. The walk lasts both a second and an eternity, but finally the big accessible bathroom’s door latches behind them and Zephyr only has a second to throw their leather jacket on the floor (of questionable cleanliness) before Rain slides down the wall and passes out.

The air ghoul does not worry, he’ll wake up in a few moments, as always. In the meantime they watch as the other’s glamor slowly slips and rummage through his backpack for a salty snack and some water.

Soon enough Rain opens his eyes.

“There you are, puddle,” Zephyr chuckles. “Was starting to grow bored.”

“Sure you were,” the water ghoul groans, sitting up slowly. “How long was I out?”

“Whole…” they check their watch in a theatrical manner, “two minutes.”

“Hm.” Rain makes grabby hands when he sees the air ghoul holding his replenishment set ready and they can’t help but shake their head at how adorable he is while still so out of it. He’ll feel better once he munches on a few nuts from his obscenely salty mix, though.

“You think you can get up already?”

“Why?”

“I want you off that nasty floor,” Zephyr scoffs, “and in my lap, preferably.”

Rain rolls his eyes but gets to work on standing up. Thankfully this bathroom actually is accessible—unlike many fakely advertised ones—and there’s a lot of things he can hold on to to stand. It works, albeit the water ghoul still gets dizzy and there’s black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He grabs Zephyr’s hand in the dark and flops down onto their lap. “C’mere, puddle.”

“That is more comfortable,” he sighs, leaning back against the air ghoul’s chest. They place a little kiss on Rain’s neck, just under the gills that escaped his glamor when he was out cold. A pleasant shiver runs down Rain’s spine at the gentle touch and his fins ruffle. “Gimme more, Zeph.”

“Greedy,” they hum but oblige nonetheless, putting their mouth over the water ghoul’s gills and kissing them softly. Rain groans and lets Zephyr appreciate their neck for a little while longer before he can’t take it anymore; he needs their lips on his. He tangles his fingers in the air ghoul’s hair and pulls them away from his neck and up, to kiss him. He slams their lips together and they both moan into it, getting more desperate with every second. They only part to catch a breath.

“Have we ever defiled a disabled mall bathroom before?” Rain asks, panting, as he leans down and rubs his nose up and down Zephyr’s neck, breathing in their fresh summer scent.

“I do not believe that we have,” they answer as they continue to grope the pretty water ghoul in their lap.

He hums thoughtfully, “Do you reckon it is time to do so?”

“Absolutely I do,” Zephyr breathes before tangling their fingers in Rain’s hair and pulling him up to seal their lips in a kiss even more heated than before. Their teeth clank together and they both try to shove their tongue down the other’s throat in a battle for dominance. Even though it’s obvious who is—and is going to stay—in charge. It’s always Zephyr; the only one for whom Rain always subs.

The next time they need to pull away to breathe, Rain notices something on the wall.

“Why was I laying passed out on this filthy floor when there’s a perfect bench right there?” Rain scoffs and throws his hands up dramatically; the princess that he is. There really is a perfect bench right there; albeit a foldable and rather unobvious one.

“You were already going down,” Zephyr shrugs. It is the truth, there was no time, but the truth is also that they didn’t notice it earlier, either. “You know I like to see it.”

“Oh, do you now?” Rain scoffs at the air ghoul’s poor joke. Or a flirting attempt.

“How could I not?” they seem dedicated to making him blush impossibly more, now. “Who wouldn’t like to see a pretty water ghoul between their legs, hm?”

“Are you attempting to make an offer, you old tit?” said water ghoul laughs. Both ghouls are well aware of how the half-affectionate, half-insulting nickname sounds without context and even though it does not get much better with it, the situation improves slightly when one is aware that it originally came from the bird tit and the facts that Zephyr’s feathers in their fully unglamored form are a similar color to that of a tit. The fact that it’s a rather loaded homonym just adds comicality that both Zephyr and Rain love.

“Depends,” the older ghoul shrugs. “Are we in a rush?”

“Not at all. It’s hours until the last train back home leaves.”

“Well, then…Do you want to go down?” Zephyr winks.

“If I can kneel on your jacket.”

“Such a princess, aren’t you? I’ve got a better idea.” Zephyr lightly shoves Rain off of their lap before getting up from their wheelchair and walking over to the bench. They unfold it, look it over and press on it to see if it’s reliable for…more than sitting. It’s rather high, but that will only make the air ghoul’s idea work even better.

“Hop on, puddle,” they pat it in invitation, “today’s my turn to get my mouth on that pretty cunt of yours.”

Rain can’t stop blushing even hotter at that, but he follows the other’s command. As he situates himself on the edge of the bench, Zephyr returns to their wheelchair. They bring it as close to the bench as possible, sit back down and lock the brakes so they don’t just roll away mid eating Rain out.

“As much as I wish I had that skill, I don’t think I can fuck you with my tongue through your jeans,” they tease with a wink, patting his thighs.

“Oh, shut it,” Rain grumbles but does indeed start to fumble with his pants. He drops them down to his ankles but Zephyr tuts and shakes their head. “What?”

“I want my head between your legs, puddle,” they purr, “I need full access.”

Once again the water ghoul mutters something unintelligible under his breath, as if in protest, and yet still obeys Zephyr's every word.

His pants are all but ripped off and thrown across the bathroom to land in the sink—hopefully dry—and the air ghoul wastes no more time. They grab Rain’s thighs, spread them and lean in to nuzzle their cheek against his soft skin. The water ghoul’s lower legs end up hooked over Zephyr’s shoulders and their feet on the back of their chair. A rather solid position, if not for the bench under his ass. His back and hips will hate him for it later, no doubt.

Zephyr throws him one more look before descending onto his cunt and licking a fat stripe up his folds. As always, what they start with is a way to indulge themself more than the other—they love having delicate, wet skin under their tongue. They also love seeing how easy it breaks, but that’s for another time.

The water ghoul instinctively puts one of his hands on Zephyr’s head, digging his fingers into their scalp and pulling on their white as snow hair. They groan against his cunt, but not in protest. Lucifer only knows they grew their hair out just to get it pulled more and, oh, does Rain deliver every time. His tail wraps around Zephyr’s arm when they grip his hip.

Zephyr licks between his folds, up and down to flick the tip of their tongue against his clit and then goes back down to tease around his hole. They prod at it and Rain thinks they’re about to really lick into him when a wave of unpleasantness hits him. He curls in on himself slightly.

“Zeph, wait, uh–” Rain breathes out, tightening the hold he’s got on Zephyr’s hair. They pull away immediately.

“What’s wrong, puddle?” they ask with concern in their voice.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, just…” he bites his lip, “don’t put it in today. Please?”

“Yeah, of course,” the air ghoul smiles at him knowingly, with deep understanding. They’ve been there. “I’ll suck your pretty cock instead, what do you say?”

Rain only lets out a rather undignified grunt as a response as he throws his head back against the wall.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Zephyr smirks and dives back down to take the water ghoul’s t-dick into their mouth. They start out light; swirling their tongue around it and petting it gently with the appendage. Rain is already so lost in it he can only whine and whimper; thankfully the bathroom is all solid walls, or else someone would definitely be calling in an emergency.

He’s pulling on Zephyr’s hair harder and harder with every lick over his cock, losing his mind even more when the air ghoul really starts doing what they’ve promised; sucking him off. Rain all but wails the first time Zephyr hollows their cheeks and sucks at his sensitive t-dick. It’s maddening.

At some point Zephyr grunts and takes one of their hands off of Rain’s thighs to move it down and fumble with their zipper, desperate for some kind of stimulation themself. They manage to open their pants, wiggle a hand inside and rub their own wet cunt. Rain only notices when the air ghoul’s moan vibrates through him.

“Zeph–” he pants, “Zeph, lemme–”

The water ghoul can’t really articulate what he wants, overwhelmed with pleasure. He unwinds his tail from Zephyr’s other arm and shoves it down their pants along with their hand.

“Oh,” they moan as they pull away from Rain’s cunt. They squeeze their eyes and rest their head against the water ghoul’s thighs, breathing heavily as he rubs their clit with the tip of his tail.

“Good?”

“Yeah, get it–puddle, get it in deep,” Zephyr begs and their shaky voice makes Rain whimper.

He obliges—once he collects himself enough to focus—and pushes his tail further down their pants. He finds the air ghoul’s slick hole and pushes in, slowly sliding his tail deeper and deeper until he all but runs out of it.

“Fuck…” they swear under their breath and follow it with a whine and it’s like a song. Zephyr returns to sucking Rain’s dick as if they want to slurp his soul out right through it and the water ghoul himself does his very best to stay focused enough to be able to fuck the other steadily with his tail.

There’s no rhythm to it, but neither of them cares; it’s all a blur of moans and whines and groans as they pleasure each other the way they know the other likes best. That’s the thing about them; they just know things, understand each other like nobody else.

Rain’s eyes cross when the air ghoul trails their wet tongue down, past his cunt to lick at his taint and tease his ass. Just for a moment, to make Rain soaking wet all around; they don’t go further, but Rain moans as they’re taking him apart piece by piece anyway. If Zephyr had access to the base of his tail, too, it’d all be over in seconds. Alas, their position makes it impossible.

There’s something about the softness of the skin in some places that makes Zephyr lose their mind. Another rather peculiar thing about them.

The air ghoul drags a smooth fang up the inside of Rain’s thigh—both a threat and a promise, but only for when they’re back home. They’re both wrecked and the fact that they’re in public escapes their horny minds entirely, it’s the instinct that keeps Zephyr in check.

“Do that…your tail, the–that thing you do…” they groan and even though it’s not much information, Rain knows exactly what to do.

“Lean back, need–need space.” He pulls his tail out of the air ghoul’s cunt and twists it tightly around itself, only leaving the spade out on the bottom. When he slides it back into Zephyr, it’s like a perfectly textured thick dildo with an attachment to stimulate their clit. Rain presses the flat tip of his tail against it and the air ghoul folds in on themself in pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s good,” they moan and start rolling their hips slightly, riding Rain’s tail as much as possible as they return to the task at hand; the delicious, soaking wet water ghoul cunt right in front of their face. And making it even wetter.

It won’t take much more and they both know it; it’s just a minute after Zephyr puts their mouth on Rain’s cock that he cries out a warning, “Close…”

“Uh-huh,” Zephyr hums in acknowledgement and nods slightly. The water ghoul can only assume it means they are nearing their climax, too. Still, the air ghoul is focused solely on Rain and making him cum his brains out. They double down their efforts and the noises falling from rain’s lips gain in volume.

“Yes, yes, yes–I’m–c–cumming, Zeph, oh,” he moans—the loudest and most wrecked of them all—and the air ghoul can feel slick gushing out of him to drip down their chin and onto the godforsaken bench. Rain’s entire body goes rigid as waves of his orgasm wash over him; including his tail. The makeshift dildo becomes impossibly thicker inside them and Zephyr groans in a nearly pained manner as they’re thrown over the edge, too.

Rain sags forward, falling face first into Zephyr’s chest as they lean back in their wheelchair. The both of them breathe heavily for a longer while, slowly coming down from their highs.

“I hate you, you old tit,” the water ghoul murmurs at some point, making Zephyr laugh.

“I love you, too, puddle,” they reply with a grin, patting his back.

Once they deem themselves composed enough again, they get up to clean the mess that they’ve made of each other. Putting both their glamors back in place and adjusting their clothes and hair so as to not scream with their looks about what they’ve been up to in that bathroom, they get ready to go.

“I don’t even want to know for how long we’ve been blocking this bathroom,” Rain grunts, a little disappointed in himself.

“Don’t worry, puddle,” Zephyr reaches out to pat his hip reassuringly, “it’s not a busy day and I’ve seen another one not so far from here, I’m sure we didn’t cause anyone inconvenience.”

The water ghoul hums in acknowledgement and finally unlocks the door again. To his great relief there isn’t anyone waiting. They leave the bathroom and decide to visit one more shop that was on their agenda; Rain feels alright now and one more won’t hurt anyone. After that they check potential trains that could take them back to the Abbey and start making their way to the station.

“We should have a list,” Zephyr proposes at some point.

“Of what?” Rain asks, genuinely curious.

“Places we defiled,” the older ghoul clarifies and Rain snorts out a laugh, “and places we have yet to defile.”

“I’m down,” he giggles under his breath, “but only if we write it down on a piece of paper that I can hang on the fridge in the den.”

“You got it, puddle,” Zephyr grins. “My requirement is that we put Primo’s closet at the very top of the been there, done that part.”

“Ah…” Rain sighs dreamily, “that was a glorious time, indeed, dear Zephyr.”

“Absolutely it was, dear Rain,” the air ghoul agrees. “Whose next, Terzo or Copia’s?”

“Secondo’s. Let’s go chronologically.”

“I love your brain, puddle.”

#scheduled #hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #rain ghoul #zephyr ghoul #hypnone's disabled ghouls #hypnone's commissions

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turtletaubwrites · 7 months

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Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1

Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2679

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)

A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄

I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time.

You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body.

The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.

“Hello, how’s your day going?”

A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard.

“I-I’m well thanks. How…”

“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”

Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.

‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’

How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?

‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’

I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.

‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’

I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!

You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously.

This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate.

But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone.

Please fix me.

This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.

“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.

He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon.

As long as he can fix me…

“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”

Hands.

Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room.

Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down.

Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers.

The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you.

As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.

Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes.

“May I look at your form, miss?”

‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”

Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table.

He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking.

“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”

“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”

His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen.

But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately.

“Why are you favoring that hip?”

“Oh, it…”

Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.

“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before.

“And your right knee?”

“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“N-No. None that I can recall.”

His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.

“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”

His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.

“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”

“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”

He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.

“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”

“Did you used to have longer hair?”

“What?”

“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”

“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.”

Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment.

“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”

“Okay.”

The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside.

He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.

“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”

Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to.

“Doctor?”

“You can take a seat.”

Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement.

He stood, towering over you as he came close.

“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.

“Do you consent to me touching you?”

His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.

Those fingers…

His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you.

“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders.

The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.

“It has.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”

You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.

“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.

“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.

“I’m sorry, doc–”

“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”

His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please, call me Law.”

He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him.

“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”

“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”

He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.

“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good.

“How does that feel, Y/N?”

“Fine.”

He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises.

“How’s this?”

“Fine.”

He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay.

“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”

“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.

“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”

“How’s this?”

“Still fine.”

“You can go further?”

“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did.

“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”

“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit.

“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”

He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.

“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”

Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.

“Yes, they do.”

His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax.

“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”

“I…”

“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”

He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him.

“Why are you–”

“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”

His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.

He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.

Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.

“Do they believe you?”

“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”

“How’s this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright, last push.”

Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.

“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face.

“No.”

He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.

“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”

“Can you fix it?”

Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions.

“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”

“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”

You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”

A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.

That can never be fixed.

The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.

“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”

There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.

“I trust you, Doctor.”

“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

Part 2

#cw dark content #cw yandere #cw doctors #trafalgar law smut #eventual smut #trafalgar law x reader #one piece smut #reader insert #fem!reader #x reader #turtletaub fics #one piece x reader #trafalgar law fanfiction #fic requests #use of y/n #cw chronic pain #cw medical #smut

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hillbillyoracle · 2 months

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So I saw this screencap earlier

And I thought it was a great chance to talk about something.

A lot of progressive folks are familiar with the fact that right wing circles use feminine as a derogatory term and that there's a real cost to that for women.

What people are less familiar with is how it hurts men - queer and straight, cis and trans.

And I'm not shocked given how common it is in left leaning spaces to be reactionary (read: dismissive or outright harass) when men try to talk about these what these issues look like for them.

When men talk about how they've experienced toxic masculinity and anti-feminine bias, in addition to the usual right wing responses, I'm starting to see a bunch of supposed feminists and trans/queer allies harass them as well - saying they're hurting women/feminine presenting folks by "centering men", dismissing their concerns as made up (even when there's research to back it up), "why aren't you talking about what this is like for cis and trans women instead??".

I've seen trans men accused of being TERFs or being liars (by other trans people even - wtf) when they talk about their experiences of allies actively excluding them from trans spaces or harassing them for using T4T tags. I've seen men be accused of lying about publicly accessible clinical research that shows men make up 75%-77% of suicide cases - or worse suggest they deserve it. I see posts about how men's complaints "aren't unique to them" and dismiss them because women also suffer things those authors assume are the same (even when the research contradicts this).

And here's the thing:

When you assume feminine=good/safe/gentle and masculine=bad/unsafe/enemy - you're parroting a conservative talking point.

There is no way around this fact.

A big part of what underpins child rearing being "the woman's domain" in conservatism, is the idea that men are inherently dangerous and therefore shouldn't really be around children without women present.

The reason why they blame women for abuse and rape - because they believe men are inherently dangerous and if a woman trusted them then it's her fault.

Part of why women have been effectively banned from many trades and careers for so long is the assumption that being around that many men presents an inherent danger to a woman.

"But!" you might be saying, "This person is clearly talking about men engaging in open conflict as good here!"

Yeah because conservatives see politics as an inherently male/dangerous/toxic sphere and uphold it as such.

I could go on and on really.

All of this is to say - please be more thoughtful in what you consume, comment, and reblog.

There are experiences specific to being masculine. Erasing that is one, a dick move, but two, particularly violent toward those talking about trans masculine, minority masculine, disabled masculine, and queer masculine experiences.

All privilege comes at a cost. Listening when people talk about that cost is key building a new more fair reality. Seeing the privilege is not worth the cost makes fervent allies. Want more allies? Don't be a dick to people having that realization.

Push back against the assumption of woman=good and man=bad when you see it - especially in community spaces. The amount of times I've seen domestic violence services only available to women is insane...

Do not let identarian politics blind you to the fact we're all human and working toward our own liberation should not come at the oppression of another. Believe me, those with real power would much rather you stay raging out at men in a similar class with you than directing your efforts at them.

The right wing wants you to believe it's either/or. Fuck that - it's both/and.

#been having more feelings about this lately #I wish there was more room for genderfluid folks #in this conversation #I've passed as male #I've passed female #I've not passed as either #it grants a unique perspective #and yet we're largely erased #anywho #please make and boost trans masc posts #only making reblogging trans fem posts #plays into that women=good and men=bad dichotomy #the like/reblog rate in this post #versus trans/queer posts more generally #is night and day #which kind of proves the point

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anistarrose · 3 months

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You added an "image description" to my post - now what? (FAQ)

[Plain text: "You added an 'image description' to my post - now what? (FAQ)". End PT.]

While I'm literally always willing to answer (good faith) questions about image descriptions, alt text, and online accessibility writ large, I also know lots of people have social anxiety about sending DMs, doing IDs "wrong," or just not knowing what IDs are for in the first place. Hence, this FAQ.

If I added an ID to your post and/or asked you to do so, and you're confused about any aspect of that, this is where to start. You can absolutely still reach out to me, I just thought I should consolidate as many answers as possible.

"What is an ID and why does it matter?"

IDs are a description of the content of an image, and can range from a transcript of a screenshot of text, to a description of a detailed piece of art. They should be in plain text, and placed on the line immediately following the image (unless it's alt text, more on those pros and cons later).

IDs are primarily for blind and low vision people who use screen readers to navigate the internet — but help others too, including lots of neurodivergent people. Check out this post (link) and the notes for more examples (dyslexics, migraine sufferers, people who can't interpret expressions, people with slow internet...)

IDs are important because without them, the Internet really sucks for people who need them. You probably don't realize how many undescribed images circulate on tumblr every day, with no way for a lot of disabled people to engage with those posts.

A blind person talks in more detail about all of this here (link).

"I reblogged your ID, is that enough?"

It's not that I don't appreciate it, but editing it into the root post and then reblogging that is much more impactful, for a variety of reasons. It means people who need IDs don't have to dig through the notes for them, it means that Tumblr can't glitch by failing to load the notes and make the ID functionally disappear, and it means all people who find the post in the tags or on your blog will be sharing the accessible version.

To explain visually, the best thing to do is something like this:

[ID: two mock-up Tumblr posts to illustrate adding an ID from the notes to the root post. A blog named "your-blog" posts an image of text reading "something cool you posted" with the caption "check out this cool image I made!" In the notes, the blog "image-describer" reblogs with an ID, which is highlighted. This version of the post is labeled: "original post, reblogged via ID writer."

The second version of the post is from "your-blog" again, where they've added the ID directly under the image, with the same caption below the ID. This version is labeled "updated root post, with ID copy-pasted. End ID.]

"My caption/commentary first, or ID first?"

Include the ID right under the image, followed by your caption or commentary. Unless you're putting your commentary before the image itself, a sighted person will see "image, commentary" in that order, so to ensure the post flows the same way, use the order "image, ID, commentary."

Commentary frequently assumes that the reader has seen the image, after all! A person might not even realize the image is described if the ID is buried too deep, because they might lose patience and skip the post. Or, to explain visually:

[ID: two mock-up example posts with an ID, one formatted well and one poorly. They both start with an image, which is just the text "screenshot of a tweet or something." The first post includes the ID immediately under the image. Below, it continues: "commentary blah blah blah get a load of this guy can you believe it." The post is labeled "Like this!" in green with a check mark.

The second post includes the commentary first, then the ID after the commentary. It's labeled: "Reads awkwardly, deprives screen reader users of immediate context" in red with an X. End ID.]

"I want to make a change to the ID, is that okay?"

Yep! If you want me to change it on my blog too (whether it's characters' pronouns, some typo, etc), just message me.

"What if someone else adds an ID to my post? Would they also be okay with me editing it into the original post like you are?"

Almost certainly! I can't speak for everyone, but I've literally never met an ID writer who wouldn't be okay with it — because we all have the shared goal of maximizing accessibility. If you're unsure or nervous, you can always include credit, but most people are even fine with going uncredited.

"I put your ID in the alt text, is that enough?"

I will never tell you not to use alt text when the alternative is an undescribed post, but I really strongly suggest putting it in both the alt text and the post. Some people who use screen readers prefer the flow of alt text, for good reason — but it's also poorly implemented on Tumblr, and it can glitch and disappear on reblogs, in drafts, or just apropos of nothing.

Moreover, when a low-vision person or anyone else wants to read the alt text directly, Tumblr's display options aren't great. (Unless you use XKit Rewritten's AccessKit, which I will always plug, but that's not an option for mobile users.) Long alt text often extends off the page and gets cut off. Tumblr used to use a terrible eye-straining purple background for it, and could always do that again with no warning. It's just not ideal.

Here's a visually impaired person talking more about the pros and cons (link).

It seems we're in need of a compromise, so what can you do? One option is to include the same alt text as image description (placing the ID directly under the image as always, because remember, flow for screen readers is important). I like to lead with "ID from alt," in order to clarify to screen reader users that they can skip the ID, and help differentiate it from the other option I'm about to describe. This should be self-explanatory, but here's an example of a post I did in this style (link).

Option two is to include a short description in the alt text, and a more detailed explanation in-post. This can let screen reader users instantly know that the post is described, and decide whether they're interested enough in it to stick with it, but it maintains an in-post description for others to benefit from too.

Example of me doing this in a post about IDs (link)

Example of my mutual describing art like this (link)

Also, it's the style I follow throughout this exact post! Take a look!

As usual, the ID is directly below the image in all these cases. This means screen readers move immediately from the alt text to the full description, and the post flows the same way it would for a sighted person.

If you're here because I wrote an ID for you, it might be easier for you to put it in the alt text and the post body identically, and that's perfectly fine! But if you're confident writing one short sentence for the alt text and including my ID in the body, you can always go for that too!

"Do I need to keep the brackets or the words 'image description/ID' in the alt text?"

Nope, no need. Brackets are purely for the visual distinction, and most screen readers preface alt text with something like "Image" that fulfills the same purpose as the "ID" label. It's not the end of the world if they're there, but it's redundant, so feel free to remove them.

"Can I put the ID under a read more? Or in small text?"

Please don't. Read mores are glitchy, and oftentimes have to be opened in a new tab. Accessibility that requires jumping through extra hoops isn't accessibility. And worse, if you change your URL or get deactivated, that read more link is usually just gone for good, and the post is undescribed again.

Meanwhile, small text, italics, colored text, and so on aren't good for low vision people or others who read the IDs directly — such as with increased font size — for whatever reason. If you want the ID to stand out visually even more than with brackets, an indent is fine as far as I know. And remember, IDs always go immediately below the image!

"Why do you sometimes copy italics and stuff as plain text? Is that a screen reader thing too?"

Same reason IDs shouldn't be in small text, italics, etc — because of sight readers with low vision. Font in weird styles, or in a fixed size regardless of device settings (to my knowledge, this includes headings) isn't very accessible, so I try to provide an accessible transcript.

Colored text is sometimes even inaccessible to sighted people using certain Tumblr themes! If Tumblr gave individual users the option to disable small text and colors on their dash, then I'd tell you to use them to your heart's content, but as it stands, they're not very accessible.

"Okay, I want to make my blog more accessible, but I don't feel capable of writing IDs on my own. How can I get help?"

Good news, this is my absolute favorite question! I strongly recommend the People's Accessibility Discord (invite link here, please let me know if it breaks).

It was created for this exact purpose of crowdsourcing IDs (and answering questions about them). I talk about it more in this post (link), where I also describe an alternative if you're like me and have massive social anxieties about Discord servers.

TL;DR: ask in the post if someone can add an image description, and edit it in once someone does! If you've read this far in the post, you're clearly an expert on how to do that.

In that post, I also recommend OnlineOCR (link) and Google Lens to extract text from images and save you typing if it's just a twitter thread or something. I would always spot check the text, adjust formatting, and remove superfluous characters, but it usually saves you lots of time when you might not normally have the energy to describe something.

Lastly, a lot of description blogs take requests! I don't unless I specify otherwise, because I easily run out of spoons, but @accessible-art is a great example of a blog that does this for non-fandom art, and there are lots of fandom blogs out there that do similar.

"I want to learn how to write image descriptions for my posts! Do you have any resources?"

This is my image description masterpost (link). I get a little scared about linking it because it's long, and a lot of the linked posts are long, and I don't want to overwhelm people — so please, start with the first few links to get the broad strokes, and then feel free to treat the rest like a index. That is, peruse it if you're looking for answers or advice on a specific topic!

While learning, keep in mind that different ID users want different things out of IDs, and that's okay. Some people, including many blind people, care quite a bit about color, but others don't, and that doesn't mean either is wrong about the types of IDs they prefer versus ones they find unnecessary.

Blind people have a massive range of lived experiences, and all the other people who benefit from IDs broaden that range even more. Generally, no one involved wants huge walls of text, but some people prefer super-minimal IDs, while others prefer a nice handful of (relevant) details. It's stuff like the difference between "Two characters hugging in a cozy-looking house," versus "Two characters hugging with their eyes closed, both smiling. Their house looks cozy and cluttered, with warm lighting."

Neither of those is objectively wrong, and there will be people who prefer either. Nor is it wrong for you, the ID writer, to make a subjective judgement, such as on the "cozy" mood. You don't want to misrepresent things, but subjectivity is usually unavoidable on some level, and therefore fine. Likewise, you don't want to let the ID get so long it's a slog to get through (here's an example of what NOT to do), but if you're describing a complicated image like some art might be, it's okay to add some details. Just start with the important stuff and general idea first.

The purpose of an image also matters. With memes, shorter is almost always better, and excessive detail is annoying (post with examples). You don't need in-depth detail to appreciate most quick jokes. But on the other hand, art is often shared for the purpose of appreciating the details. This post goes into detail about how context matters, and how longer IDs make sense for art sometimes. It puts it better than I could, so I really suggest reading it if this is something you're wondering about! Key word: not length, not brevity, but "relevancy."

In my opinion, IDs are easiest to learn by doing, but also by starting small. If you want to build up your "description muscles" and confidence by just transcribing tweets, that's perfectly fine — and also, the path that myself and a lot of people I know have followed.

Lastly: follow some described blogs! Check out how other people do it! Writing IDs is an art, and though it has a few hard do's and don't's we've gone over, we've also gone over how it's subjective. Everyone brings a slightly different style, with a different level of lengthiness, and it's great to learn from multiple sources. Here's one list of blogs like those (link)!

"Why would this matter if I know I don't have any blind people following me?"

Consider the cycle of inaccessibility (link). If no one ever accommodates blind people, then of course you're not going to see them on Tumblr, in fandom, or in whatever internet circles! And blind people aren't the only people who need image descriptions — again, consider this post, especially this addition (link).

Worst case scenario, even if you have no one who can benefit from IDs either following you, and no people who need IDs would follow you even if you included them, you're still helping people who do maintain accessible blogs to do so — and moreover, normalizing image descriptions in general.

"I don't think blind people would be in this fandom. I mean, there's a huge visual component!"

Described comics and webcomics exist. Audio descriptions for TV shows and movies exist. Disabled people who find creative ways to play video games exist. People who watched a playthrough of a video game by a person who happened to read out the dialogue, and give descriptive commentary on the action, also exist. People who lose their vision over time, or gain other reasons to rely on IDs over time, also exist.

#accessibility #image descriptions #long post

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buddierecs · 1 month

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aly's recent reads - pt. 1

hi, i have been reading some amazing buddie fics recently so i wanted to make a list of them all for you guys! i will probably start doing this whenever i feel the need too :) these fics are mixed rated, so please check the ratings and tags!

loves a game, wanna play? by: 42hrb "in the aftermath of chris leaving for the summer, buck convinces eddie they should apply for love island together." word count: 57k rating: mature important tags: reality tv au - love island, humour, flirting, idiots in love, getting together, season 7, pining, social media time makes you bolder (children get older) by: sevensoulmates there’s a new resident moving into the suite across from buck’s. “what’s his name?” buck asks. “eddie diaz,” nurse corra tells him. “hey, you know eddie is also a retired firefighter." eddie diaz, new recruit, a voice echoes in his mind. “huh.” buck says. "never heard of him." word count: 26k rating: not rated important tags: future fic, old age, memory loss, this will make you cry!!

i think if you're lucky by: colonoscopys "evan hits him with his car" word count: 19k rating: teen and up important tags: royalty au, different first meeting au, firefighter!eddie all my little words by: youbetsya "eddie: did you just send me an email?? buck: yeah lol eddie: why… i dont think you’ve ever emailed me actual words before. just stuff to print when your printer is broken buck: did you read it? eddie: not yet too busy trying to figure out why the fuck you’re emailing me buck: just read it dude 🙄" word count: 11k rating: teen and up important tags: texting, season 7, idiots in love, getting together, eddie diaz's mustache in love with every song you've ever heard by: timeshareindestin "how a conversation about tardigrades results in buck grappling with a disability he's suppressed, getting hearing aids, and realizing that the family he craves has been there for him all along. in that order." word count: 19k rating: teen and up important tags: character study, disability, getting together, coming out, hurt/comfort, angst, hard of hearing!buck loose-tongued, in love by: wenttoafortuneteller "the one where buck, drowsy and delirious on pain medication, confesses his love to eddie without realizing it." word count: 4.4k rating: teen and up important tags: love confessions, miscommunication, fluff, angst, getting together drift past the flowers by: dylanesthetics "buck and natalia get engaged, and eddie flees the state about it. a petty email correspondence ensues." word count: 45k rating: teen and up important tags: email correspondence, friends to lovers, slow burn, idiots in love, mutual pining, minor buck/natalia paralyric narcolepsy guy hates buckley & diaz by: eightpackdiaz "paralytic narcolepsy guy is forced to listen to buckley and diaz talk to and about each other in his unconscious presence over the years. he insists he fucking hates them. but then he also accidentally helps them get engaged" word count: 5.4k rating: teen and up important tags: outsider pov, narcolepsy, idiots in love, getting together perfect to me by: fallingthorns "eddie has bad posture, buck is a mouth-breather, and the rest of the 118 all have a thing, too" word count: 5.4k rating: teen and up important tags: team as family, bickering, humour keeping score by: arcanaphora "after getting dumped, buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. all's fair in love, war, and trivia." word count: 23k rating: mature important tags: vacation, fake dating, gay disaster!eddie diaz, mutual pining treat an opportunity like it's treating you by: daisies_and_briars "after losing his leg as a result of the fire engine bombing, buck is presented with the opportunity to have a service dog donated to him." word count: 12k rating: teen and up important tags: service dog, amputee!buck, hurt/comfort, angst, pre-relationship jeep talking by: daisies_and_briars "a ride in the backseat of buck's jeep with buck and eddie in the front gives chim new perspective on his brother-in-law's strange dynamic with his so-called "best friend.' and chim is sick of them being so oblivious." word count: 2.2k rating: teen and up important tags: chim pov, humour

an inch away from more than just friends by: allyasavedtheday in which buck has a clipboard and a list and is about to romance the hell out of eddie diaz. word count: 9.6k rating: teen and up important tags: fluff, falling in love, romance, feelings realization brojobs are normal, maddie! by: mihaly "buck and eddie are the most oblivious idiots on the planet and literally everyone knows they're in love but them." word count: 43k rating: explicit important tags: idiots to lovers, oblivious!buddie, mutual pining, mutual masturbation, size kink, daddy kink, phone sex, oral sex, anal sex save a horse, ride a mustache by: bisexualbuckley "eddie gets a mustache. buck goes insane. there's some miscommunication. mustache smut ensues" word count: 7.1k rating: explicit important tags: horny!evan buckley, misunderstandings, oral sex, face-sitting, praise kink, anal sex, come eating, top!eddie diaz, bottom!evan buckley, riding

#buck x eddie fic #buddie fic #buck x eddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic rec #buddie fics #911 abc #911 show #911 fandom #buddie 911 #evan buck buckley #buddie smut #buddie fanfic #buddie recommendations #buddie recs #buck x eddie fanfics #buck x eddie smut #alyfavouritefics

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