#i wonder if i should start tagging posts of me talking again even if its corny | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stop-talking · 6 months ago

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Breakdown of the @joshsbimbo controversy.

@mike-schmidtten already made a detailed list of every reason why people are upset with you, "lamb", but I'm going to quickly go over it all anyways because you obviously didn't get the memo.

Extreme trigger warning for this entire post, I'm going to be talking about rape, SA, assault, violence, abuse, incest, stepcest, pedophilia, substance abuse, and probably a lot more.

First of all, you tagged this fic where Mike literally rapes the reader as "cnc". That is not correct.

I mean, if we look at the definition of CNC, it says "this type of scene does not encourage ACTUAL rape. All proper scenes are done after much negotiation between of-age, consenting adults."

But I don't need to explain that to you, do I? You know what CNC is. You said yourself MONTHS ago that you tagged your fic incorrectly and NEVER went back and fixed it.

Mike's next point was that you make it impossible for people to "steer away" from their triggers when you don't tag your posts properly.

And as an example he used this post of straight up incest porn between Mike and his little sister. All completely out in the open, tagged under "#mike schmidt" and "#mike schmidt x reader" for all to see.

He followed it up this this. A plea for you to, at the bare minimum, tag the major triggers in your posts and hide it under a "read more" section.

Let's take a look at how you responded to that very reasonable request.

Oh. You DM'd him the word poop and blocked him.

Instead of reblogging to respond, you actually deleted your origional post so your followers couldn't see the criticism of you as easily. I wonder why? You made your stance clear, though. "I should have put more warnings on my work, but it doesn't matter anyways because it's all fictional." But then, immediately after, you started relogging an account that makes photoshopped foot fetish content of male celebrities for some reason...?

(I censored the feet myself because its just weird) Oh, and weird AI pictures of him, too.

There were worse ones, but I didn't screenshot everything, and you deleted these posts just a few hours after reblogging.

You followed it all up with this now-deleted post about how you wish you could make your notes private. Again, I wonder why? If it really is OKAY to sexualize incest, rape, and abuse just because it's fictional, why would people be scared to support you? Why is no one willing to publicly like your posts, or speak out in your favor? Even some of your biggest supporters (@leah-hutcherson @teenagedreamsss @cuteskunkz @renaissancebewbies) who continue to like (some) of your posts, still haven't come to your defense. If writing about fictional rape, abuse, and incest really and truly wasn't harmful, why would you need to hide?

Once other people started catching wind of what was going on, you responded in some... interesting ways. Like here, in response to this ask (from a person who is a minor BTW). You switched up your story from "I should have tagged my work better" to "everyone hates me now because I forgot to put warnings on ONE story" (which was just blatantly false, as you had been posting other triggering things at the time with no warnings whatsoever.)

It was absolutely ridiculous of you to claim you put warnings on your work when I could scroll down two posts (back before you deleted this) and see a post about Mike beating his kid.

Like... please show me where exactly the warning is?

Then, when this person, (another MINOR, btw!!) posted after reading Mike's breakdown of your behavior, your responded by DMing them a slur.

I don't even know what to say to that. A minor. A slur.

But as much as you like to INSIST your work isn't for minors, you sure seem to interact with them a lot.

This person who reblogged your masterlist? They're a minor.

^^ You can't say you don't want minors to read your work without actually taking all precautions possible to prevent them from seeing it. (Tagging your content, blocking ageless accounts, NOT REBLOGGING MINORS!!!)

Yes. This person is also a minor. Which makes, what, the 4th minor you've interacted with in the past few days? At least from what I can tell.

They also hate you btw so I don't even know why you reblogged them.

FINALLY, this user commented under one of your posts in an attempt to get you to AT LEAST tag your posts correctly if you're going to write triggering shit. (Which was the same think Mike asked you to do, if you remember, but he got "poop" and reblogs of foot fetish posts as a response.)

But then it looked like you either blocked them or removed their comment, so they tried again.

You ignored this message, then apparently posted this?

So they tried again (being much nicer that I would have)

And you finally responded (and still got blocked anyways because your posts are DISTURBING and GROSS)

I doubted you'd actually fix your page, because again, you ignored the same request when Mike asked, and in the past admitted you tagged your fics wrong but just never bothered to change it.

But surprise surprise, you actually went through with it and added trigger warnings to your content.

Though, I'm still not sure "non-serious" is an appropriate tag for a post where mike beats you to death...??

Look. I appreciate that you're at least TRYING now, but it was a fucking FIGHT to get you to do the bare minimum. What I, and apparently 84% of people actually want you to do is delete your account.

(This is from @mike-schmidtten's breakdown post from a couple days ago)

I know you want to PRETEND that just because something is a work of fiction, it doesn't have negative real-world effects, but that's just not the truth.

A lot of people were hurt when you posted things without trigger warnings.

And even now, as you continue to post fetish content for rape, incest, and abuse, people are still being hurt. MINORS are still being hurt.

Yes, obviously, if you post something on the internet, you can't completely 100% control who sees it. But you don't even seem to TRY.

(Dming minors slurs, letting minors reblog your masterlist, letting ageless accounts interact with you, reblogging minors, answering asks from minors, etc)

People, minors, CHILDREN, are raped and abused by those closest to them every day. It's disgusting and horrifying to think about, but it's the world we live in.

You aren't "helping people cope" by writing these stories. You're normalizing abuse. And allowing the most vulnerable people to read it.

You're taking actual things that have happened to real people, and sexualizing it for others to get off to. It's immoral, disturbing, and disgusting.

To my followers, if any of you support this kind of content, you are NOT welcome on my page. Please unfollow or block me and go seek help.

And to you, lamb, I hope you come to your senses and either delete all of your rape & incest fetish content or delete your account entirely.

At the end of the day, you KNOW you're in the wrong. Or at least some small part of you does, or you wouldn't have been afraid to reblog Mike's post and respond defending yourself directly. And you wouldn't be afraid to reblog mine either, which you undoubtedly will.

I know you used to follow me, so maybe you'll take this all to heart. But probably not.

I won't block you. (for the next few days, at least). I'll be here if you want to try and have a civil discussion. But just know I will NEVER agree with the sexualization & glorification of violence and abuse.

#PSA #anyone connected to this person DNI

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dragonstailbutch · 6 months ago

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Hey sorry i am trying to like. find examples of what you mean when you talk about mra stuff and (trans)misogyny in forcemasc content and tumblr search has betrayed me once again, can you explain?

(sorry I normally wouldn't ask but I wanna make sure I'm not perpetuating anything!! Also fucking tumblr search!!! it is ridiculous!)

so ive been sitting on this ask for months since ive got it. i want to do it justice and try to take it at face value that its being honest in asking.

The thing is, theres this trend and a weird amount of effort to be like force femme, to be forceful and like its something to fearful of and give in to. But we cant do that, cause all that does is reinforce the idea that being a man is a toxic thing. I saw this post the other day where a transman talked about like, the whole "raised as a weapon" thing, the violence and horror of being a man and raised that way versus how they felt growng into it as a transman. How they wanted to reclaim that phrase or something? i could be misremembering.

But that was never the intent of forcemasc. It wasnt actually about being a dude, literally *forcing* someone who was unwilling into masculinity, none of the posts that i made that started the community (and yes i, a transfem butch woman, started and made this community and some of yall need to get over yourselves) were ever about that, it was intended to be a soft mimic or even a call to forcefemme.

i was all about making it soft and tender for a reason, cause if i didnt i was only reinforcing the toxic masculinity narrative, "men fighting in the mud" "men are dominant and cool" " to be a man is to be forced into masculinity and to be disgusted with the feminine" or whatever. When masculinity isnt about just men, and being butch isnt just being masculine. masculinity should also be sensitivity, not domination. i wanted it to be better, show a better side of what masculinity could be, what being butch is.

Ive spoken before a bit too, about the tags people used and added to forcemasc, and really maybe i was wrong in ever naming it forcemasc. people used and still use tags like autoandrophilia, autoandrophile, androphile, autogynephilia, androphilia, and autogynephile. Ive seen so many people with urls and tags and posts calling themselves transandrobros, literally calling themselves MRAs, as if that was something to be proud of, as if they dont understand that they arent fighting for their and our rights, they're fighting for cis-mens rights by using those names and terms, not transmascs/transmens rights. I can understand ignorance, but weve talked about how the words you use have history, especially those like the tags i mentioned and androphilia and androphobia and others, all of them have roots in deeeeeeeply misogynistic and transphobic people and history.

Literally all of these are awful and are phrases that arent and wont be reclaimed because theyre history is one of pain and hurting trans people, one of coercive 'help', literal forced detransitioning and reinforcement of MRA and terf narrative that men are both good and the worst creature alive and that to be a woman is to be disgusting and the purest thing all at once. That to be a transwoman is sick and we shouldnt be trusted.

Im trying to be very kind, not scream and rage, not because i dont desperately want to, but because if i do, as a butch transwoman, ESPECIALLY cause i claim being butch, people wont listen to me no matter how much of what i say is meaningful. one of the reasons why im doing this NO, instead of in anothr day or two, is that im coming to terms with the fact that the situation will just get qorse, not better without words.

Part of why im still sane is that ive gotten a couple asks here and there about how my posts and creation of the community has helped them and its so wonderful to see that, genuinely so amazing to see people recontextualize and love themselves. its wonderful and im so fucking happy about it.

i personally made this space so i could love myself, who i am as a trans person and my body, and i knew that other people needed and wanted that for themselves too and i wanted to help, share this love with more people. That to be hairy and chubby and masculine and butch was a nice thing. But to me it feels like it was coerced into being a thing for Men. A thing no longer for me or people like me who share the butch culture and name to no longer enjoy cause people unfamiliar with kink and tran history have decided that masculinity and butchness are the exact same thing. Id say people should go be a bear, but you wont learn their culture either and thats cruel and insulting to bears.

We deserve better You deserve better. Stop falling for the lies and hate. We beg you

#forcemasc #the dragon replies #the dragon speaks #the dragon roars #force masculinization #force masc #force masc founder #forcemasc founder #ask me stuff #ask me things #transmisogny//#im tired #ill probably make a new tag to post new content under #ill also turn off anons #gonna keep asks in general on tho

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horrorshow · 4 months ago

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Can you talk about why you think blocking and moving on is a bad thing? I thought it was a way to curate your space and avoid drama

idk maybe i'm too idealistic but fandom is a much more friendlier, welcoming, supportive, creative, engaging, active, diverse and interesting space when it's treated like a community where people are encouraged to participate and talk about their interests and where there's space for niche or more unpopular opinions without these people having to worry about being blocked and feel unwelcome by the majority of the fandom they are in. i can't stand how blocking everyone you disagree with has become the first thing to do.

you say its 'to curate your experience'. but blocking people does not only curate YOUR experience. you're also forcefully curating other users' experiences. and not for the better.

people say 'i will block you for literally anything' and then those same people wonder why engagement is down, why no one sends asks, why no one reblogs, why rarely anyone talks in the tags anymore and why this place feels so dead and boring and quiet. i wonder why!!!!

people treat real people as annoying ads they can dispose of at their whim. but that's not how a fandom or a site like tumblr works. (besides, if you really care about people curating their own experience you wouldn't block people. you can filter and blacklist and never see them again while still granting them the same freedom instead of actively making their experience worse.)

you say its to avoid drama. but seeing a post you dont agree with is not 'drama'. and blocking is not solving anything except for you personally. fandom was more fun when we remembered that every user is a real person you share a space with, and probably some mutuals as well, so you find a way to live with each other. starting with a restraining order seems a bit excessive and is not contributing to anything. it's not that hard to be respectful and tolerate others and acknowledge people have different opinions and interests and still co-exist in peace. its not that hard to be nice to people and try to find common ground with them and interact with the stuff you DO like. you do this in every aspect of your real life, so why not online?

i hear you say: 'but that requires WORK and i don't NEED to do any of that bc i can just block them'.

yeah, you can try to create your own bubble and only hang out with like minded people but you wont EVER fully achieve that (no matter how much you block, social media WILL keep feeding you posts you disagree with bc it makes them money). social media WILL pressure you into an 'us vs. them' mentality where you constantly feel like everything online is a threat or an argument you have to win and where being mean and unnuanced gives you the most notes and where you don't even see, let alone be able to treat, other users as people anymore bc you don't interact with them anymore other than to block or fight them. that's not how i want it to be online. it's not fun to me. and maybe i'm a pessimist but i think it will eventually be the death of online fandom and sites like tumblr. look at the state of twitter right now. DOES blocking give you a better experience in the long run? i doubt that it does. overall, i think it makes people even less tolerable and more vulnerable to hate and fear mongering, and social media an even more hostile place.

it's everything i hate about social media and everything i want to fight against and WILL fight against. i won't pretend my meager contribution will change anything, but i LIKE to just scroll past posts i don't vibe with and not see every argument online as a personal offense. it keeps me curious. most posts aren't that bad when you know the person behind it. i mean, you do you, i'm not gonna say what you should or shouldn't do bc that's up to you, but i recommend it: free yourself of the block button and bring back supportive user communities based on a shared love for the same thing and focus on what you have in common with people, just like you would do in real life. save the block button for the rotten apples who DO keep trying to pick fights and exclude others.

(which is, now that i think about it, probably the main difference: most people see the block button as a neutral way to prevent worse. but. that's only the case on an individual level. and treating everything online as an individual choice to which there are no further consequences, especially if they happen on a larger scale, is already a loss.)

#i've seen so many posts lately that were like 'we need drama soon bc its too boring' and ?????? are we all just too far gone already??#we used to have graphic challenges and creative events during hiatus where everyone was welcome to participate why would you want drama #have we already forgotten how to entertain ourselves without having to point and laugh at someone #why do we keep treating others in bad faith just to feel better about ourselves #like. the people you have the most interests in common with arent even automatically the people you best get along with #i could go on but im embarrassingly cringe about this already so yes sorry i DO care about online spaces. a lot actually.

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random0lover · 2 years ago

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Hello !! Am I allowed to request for maybe all of 141 (If possible with your schedule !! I undestand if its not !!) or just Price and Ghost (separate) with a reader whos a military kid so theyre kinda just used to them going away for long periods of time with deployment. Bonus points if they werent aware of reader being a military kid till they break down and confess as to how abandoned and angry they feel when they leave :,)) Fluffy Hurt/Comfort thats SFW, please :)) Thank you ^^

TF141 x Gn!Reader That Was a Military Kid

Pairings: John Price x gn!reader & Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst with Comfort, SFW, reader is mean, talk of parental death, crying, reader is called: sweetheart, love, dove. Hints at depression, John and Simon are both big softies for reader, established relationships. That should be it! Let me know if I missed any <3

Things to know: Some hc’s with mini fic parts. Should be Gn!reader as I tried to avoid talking about readers body or anything that could indicate anything other than gn!reader! Also POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡, Also a warning to anyone that decides to follow me- if you do not have your age in your bio or a pinned post I will block you… just a fair warning.

Notes: Thank you for requesting this anon! I loved the idea so much so I hope this does your request justice! I kinda went a little soft with the Price one because for some reason I can’t stand the thought of reader being mean to that sweet man (if you want though send me another request and I can write one that’s more angst filled 😊) although I did bring out the reader being angry in Simons. Another thing, I wrote this for Simon and not ghost but if you want I can write another one that has reader dealing with Ghost but be warned it will be angsty with lots of hurt from both parties! Sorry if the editing is bad I did try though lol and there will be more parts to this!

Tags: @homicidal-slvt (promised I’d tag you so here we are)

Price & Simon (You’re here!), Soap & Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy & König

(I will add the links as I post each part!)

John Price

-I feel like he may have wondered if you were a military kid since you didn’t seem to be phased by him having to leave so often

-There were other things that also made him wonder, like how you always made your bed in the mornings, how schedules were majorly important to you to the point that if you knew you were going to be late, you'd get majorly upset, and how you also seemed to understand military lingo up to a certain point. He never asked though since you didn’t talk about your childhood much so he just figured that if you wanted to tell him that you would -But he started to notice that lately, you started to seem off when you found out he would have to be deployed soon.

John had been awake since the early hours of the morning. He couldn't seem to get much sleep in the few days before his next deployment. He had left the warmth of your shared bed before even the morning birds could be heard outside, hoping not to wake you with his restlessness, but little did he know that you hadn't slept at all.

By the time you stumbled out of bed with bags under your eyes and your mind feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep and your own brain tearing itself apart, it was well past 10 a.m., which wasn’t the most unusual for you, but on the day before John would be deploying it was a little odd since usually you were up trying to help him get his stuff together and would make a huge breakfast since you both weren’t sure how long it would be until he would get to enjoy a home-cooked meal again.

You had hoped to get to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee before seeing John, but he was standing at the fridge, putting groceries away from multiple brown paper bags.

You made your way to the coffee pot that seemed to have a fresh pot being made and got a cup from the cabinet before he started to talk, “I noticed we were getting low on some things so I thought I’d save you a trip to—,” he pauses, causing you to turn to face him, “Sweetheart?”

You were pressing your hands into your eyes, trying to relieve the aching pressure that was remaining consistent behind them, when he made his way across the kitchen and gently cupped your cheeks, “Are you feeling alright, love?”

You didn’t mean to do it, but you flinched away from his hands, taking a few steps back so that there was some distance between you both. You could see the hurt in his eyes before they were overcome with confusion and you hated that he was looking at you as if you were a skittish kitten that would run at the smallest movement.

He reaches an arm out slowly, as if to not startle you.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, pulling your arms tight around you, and try to focus on keeping your breathing calm, like your parents taught you when you were little.

He takes a small step forward so that his fingers are almost grazing your arm but stops when sees you curling in on yourself, “Sweetheart, something is obviously wrong. You're crying, and your body is shaking.”

“Hey,” you finally look up into his eyes, “you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but at least let me help you.”

Your heart breaks from the pain you can see in his eyes. In all the time you've been together, you’ve never pulled away from him like this. Usually, you were the one open about your emotions and what you were feeling while having to coax John into telling you what was going on in his mind, “Please, darling.”

You let yourself fall into his open arms at that point, sobbing into his neck. He presses you against his chest, gently speaking into your ear, assuring you that everything is fine, that he is here for you, and that he will always be there.

You mumble into his neck, causing him to gently pull you back so that he can hear you: “What was that, sweetheart?”

You try to concentrate on the sensation of his calm heartbeat against your chest before finally saying, "My parents promised me the same thing."

He pulls away, puzzled, and you notice him looking at you in the corner of your eye, so you burrow your face into his chest and say, "They were both military. They died when I was 14," you finish, taking a deep breath. “They were deployed together when it happened… They said that it was an accident, that my mom got stuck on a timed land mine, and my dad wouldn’t leave her no matter what.”

"Oh, love." You feel his body tense before relaxing.

He gently grips the back of your neck and pulls you back so that you're looking into his eyes; the softness in them is almost enough to send you running as far as possible so that you never have to feel the type of pain that you did the day that you found out your parents died.

“Love, I'm not going anywhere,” you go to speak but he shushes you, “You are my world, the person I’m fighting for.”

He brings his hand under your chin so that he is gripping it gently and says, “You are the reason I’m still alive. The reason why I feel like life is still worth living and fighting for.”

He tips his head down so that his lips are grazing yours, “I’ll always come home, love.”

You push forward so that your lips are fully pressing against his, then he pulls back, “Why don’t we go take a bath, get you feeling better?”

~~~~

The next morning you wake frantically looking around, hoping that he didn’t leave without saying goodbye, when he walks in carrying a tray of food, “John? I thought you had to leave this morning.”

He smiles gently, his eyes lighting up, “Called Kate, they don’t actually need me for another week, and I figured my love needs me a little bit more than my job at the moment.” He sets the tray down on the bed, and you jump into his arms with a happy squeal, “I love you, John.”

"I love you too, sweetheart," he says as he gently kisses you.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

-So we all know Simon is amazing at reading people, but I don’t think he would know that you were a military kid. He could see all the signs that you may have had a difficult childhood, but he personally knows what it’s like to have a childhood you don’t want to talk about, so he never has and never will question you about your past. -Pasts are a hard topic for Simon in the first place, so I could honestly see him being a bit grateful that you didn’t share the bad parts of your childhood, meaning that he also didn’t have to share his. It was almost a silent agreement between you both to not talk about the negative parts of things unless one of you came to the other wanting to talk about it.

~~~~

Back to him being great at reading people: He could tell that over the past few days, your body language had been changing, becoming more standoffish. Not being as open to cuddling and kisses, not even wanting him to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you, which you usually loved.

He figured that maybe you were just having a few rough days, which was normal for anyone; hell, he knew he had them quite often, and you were always there for him no matter how bad they got, so he wanted to do the same for you.

Today had been the worst day of all, though. You were almost refusing to talk to him completely unless it was one-word answers, which he was able to roll with pretty easily. You would move rooms almost every time he would come in, not even saying anything, just picking up your things and going.

This made him decide on leaving you alone for the most part, other than when he would bring you a fresh cup of tea or was just checking in on you. So he decided on cleaning up the house a little bit, he was going to be deploying again in a week and he wanted to help however he could, knowing that it was a rough transition from having him around to it being an empty house again.

He had just finished cleaning the dishes when he looked at the time and decided on ordering out for dinner, which would hopefully raise your mood a bit and it would also be an easy enough mess to clean up. He found you in the living room watching a movie on Netflix with a blanket wrapped tightly around you and stood in the doorway for a moment just admiring you when you paused it.

When you snap at him, "What do you want, Simon?" Your eyes aren't even on him but on your phone, which is on your lap.

He feels his eye twitch but he keeps himself calm and makes sure that it shows in his tone that your attitude is leaving him unaffected, “I was just goin’ to ask what you wanted for takeout, love.”

You huff and try to pull yourself up from the couch while also trying to unwrap the blanket from around you, almost falling, but Simon rushes forward and straightens you up, but you quickly pull away.

You look at him with fury in your eyes, “Can't you just leave me the hell alone?” Your voice is rising slightly, and your face is flushed with rage. “It’s what you constantly do anyway!”

You can see Simon's eyes widen, but you don't care; the words are just spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them, "You're never actually here when I need you, but when you are, you can't take the fucking hint of when I just want you to leave me alone!"

"Sometimes Simon," you pause, feeling the tears flood into your vision, making the floor blurry, "I wonder why I even stay when you are just going to end up hurting me exactly like he did," you whisper, staring hard at the ground, your chest puffing in and out quickly, trying to pull in air after your large outburst.

The words come out in a whisper, the room becoming so silent that you can almost hear the gears in his head turning, wondering who the hell you were talking about.

You hear him take a step forward on the wood flooring, his voice incredibly soft, “Dove.”

You look up through the tears and see his hands reaching out for you, and for the first time in all the time you two have been together, Simon Riley almost looks scared—not scared of you but as if his world was coming apart.

When his hand gently touches your arm, it pulls you out of your stupor, making you pull away, frantically shaking your head, “Don’t touch me.”

The words come out shaky and broken, but they make him freeze nonetheless, and you can see in his eyes that he’s trying to pull himself together, trying to figure out what he's supposed to do in a situation like this.

He takes a small step back, his gaze fixed on yours, and he holds his hands out in front of him, as if to demonstrate that he is not a threat. "Okay, I won't touch you." He comes to a halt, seeing the fear in your eyes, the look of a frightened animal ready to flee at any moment. "It's okay, love, everything's fine-"

He doesn't even finish his sentence before you're flying down the hallway, grabbing your bag from the hooks by the front door and bolting out the door, slamming it loudly behind you, leaving him standing halfway down the hallway, his mouth slack-jawed, unsure of what the hell just happened.

~~~

After nearly ten minutes of fast walking, you finally slowed down and stopped in the nearest store to clean your face of tear marks and, hopefully, make yourself look presentable. You sent a quick text to Simon, letting him know that you were safe and that you didn't know when you'd be back. You left your phone on long enough to see him read the message and the text bubble pop up before you shut the phone completely off and tucked it into the bottom of your bag.

You spent the next two hours wandering aimlessly, wondering if you'd just ruined your relationship with the only man you'll ever love, when you came across the small Italian restaurant where Simon had taken you on your first date. You remember the way you tried to pay for your half of the dinner, but he quickly slipped his card to the waitress before you could even argue, saying something about how if you decided not to go on a second date with him, you deserved to at least get a free meal from it, and you teased him by asking him if there was a reason you shouldn't want to go on another date with him.

The memories make your stomach queasy, making you want to kick yourself in the back for being so stupid, but you walk in and order your and Simon's favorite dishes and try to keep the food as warm as possible on your walk back to your shared home. One side of you hopes you’ll find him there, not an empty house, and the other side wants to avoid this conversation for as long as possible.

You walk up the steps, and most of the house seems to be dark except for the living room, where a single light is on. You unlock the door and try as quietly as possible to slip your shoes off while also trying not to drop the food.

You make your way towards the living room to find Simon sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. You look over to the coffee table and see bags with your favorite restaurant's logo tied off, trying to keep the heat in the bags, making your heart ache with the fact that he still thought of you after you treated him like complete trash.

He was the first man ever to treat you with so much love. Even while he was deployed, he was making efforts to show you that he cared, like scheduling a delivery of your favorite flowers to show up on your day off with a little note, paying for over a month's worth of your order at your favorite coffee shop, and bringing back little trinkets from the places he was deployed too.

You knew him being deployed wasn’t his fault; it was part of his job. You knew he wasn't your dad and that it wasn't Simon’s fault that the man who was supposed to love you treated you as if you weren't even his child but rather just another one of his soldiers.

It wasn’t his fault that your dad wouldn't be home for months on end; it wasn’t his fault that the last time you ever saw your dad, you told him you hated him for never being home; it wasn't his fault that the day your dad was supposed to come home from a four-month deployment, instead of hearing him come home, there were four hard knocks on the door; it wasn't his fault that two soldiers were standing at the door; it wasn’t his fault that they were holding a folded-up flag with your dad’s military dog tags on them.

It. Wasn’t. His. Fault.

Yet you treated him as if it were. You didn't know which was worse, the fact that he didn't already know about what happened to your dad or the fact that you wished he did so that he could have a reason to hate you for lashing out.

You step into the room, setting the food you got by the food he ordered. “Simon?”

He doesn’t move for a second, then he looks up at you, and you feel your heart shatter for the umpteenth time tonight. “Oh, Simon,” you whisper, moving so that you’re standing in front of him and drop down onto your knees, “I am so fucking sorry. I don't even have the words to tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you… I should’ve just talked to you instead of letting it build up.”

You move your hands up to gently cradle his face in both your hands and connect your eyes with his molten ones, which usually provided you with comfort. Now, though, all you can see is the look he gave you after you yelled at him, “I— I never should have let my feelings bottle up about me being upset about you having to be gone. I know it's not your fault. I knew what I was getting myself into when we made things official all those years ago. I knew what your job would bring before then; I made the choice to be with you. I'll never regret that.’’

You move your eyes across his face, trying to gauge his emotions, but you get nothing.

“Si, baby?” you whisper.

His eyes move away from you. “Who were you talking about when you said I'm just going to hurt you like he did?’’

You look away, your eyes settling on a loose string on his pants. “I was talking about my dad.” You take a deep breath before continuing, knowing that you have to tell him, “H– He was military like you.”

His hand reaches out to gently lift your chin, bringing your gaze to his. “He died,” you continue, “He died and the last time I ever saw him, I told him I hated him because he was always gone. He…I let him go that day without saying goodbye or telling him I loved him, and the next time I saw him, his body was in a casket."

"Love," he says with a gentle frown.

"No, Simon," you say, shaking your head. Just because I’m scared—no, fucking terrified—of that happening again with you doesn't give me the right to treat you that way. I am so sorry.”

He leans back in the couch and pulls you up into his lap; once you're comfortable, he brings his hands up so that one is cupping your cheek and the other trails down your arm to hold your hand. "Dove, I know what it's like to lose family. I know what it can do to you. I understand that pain more than you know. Pain like that is unlike anything else.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink them away quickly before they fall. "You've lost family, too?"

He nods gently, and you can see deep emotions that seemed to have been buried for a long time beginning to surface. “My mum, my younger brother Tommy, and his wife Beth.” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, they are filled with unshed tears. “My nephew Joseph.”

You can feel the back of your throat starting to burn from keeping your tears in, but you push your forehead against his anyway. “Simon.”

He looks into your eyes before whispering, “I wish I could tell you it would stop hurting eventually, but I can’t. I’m not going to lie to you and say I’ll always make it back home to you; that's not something I can guarantee, but one thing I can promise is that I will always try my damn hardest to make it back. I will always fight with everything in my soul to make it back to you.”

Tears are softly running down your face at this point, falling to land on Simon’s hoodie. “I love you so much, sweets. I never want to lose you.”

You let out a choked cry before you kissed him gingerly, and you could taste the saltiness of your tears mixed in with all the flavors that reminded you of Simon. Of home.

“I love you so much too, Si.”

He leans in to kiss you again with a light press of his lips to yours before he pulls away and looks at the forgotten food on the coffee table and lets out a light chuckle, “I see we both had the same idea.”

You let out a shaky laugh and nod your head before snuggling your head into the warm crook of his neck. He runs a large hand up and down your back, slowly stopping at the bottom to rub gentle circles into a spot that usually bothers you. "Well, why don’t we eat, and maybe in the morning we can talk a little bit more.”

Yawning into his neck, you pull back and ask, “Can we finish the movie I was watching earlier? It was just getting to the good part before I stopped it.”

He nods, and you excitedly get out of his lap to get your blanket and the TV remote before he pulls the coffee table closer to the couch so that he can start opening the containers. Once you start the movie, you look over to Simon to find him already watching you with a soft look, and all you can think is how thankful you are to have found a man who loves you through all your faults and you through his.

You were grateful for ever getting the chance to be loved by Simon Riley, a man who truly believed that he couldn’t love and that he wasn’t worth loving. You knew that it would probably take your whole lives to heal from the things you've both been through, but as long as you were together, that was all that mattered.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed this hc for Price and Simon! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. As always I hope you have a great day/night. <3

Requests are open so feel free to send in some! I cannot promise when or if I will write them, but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them easier to write but it's not required. Thanks for reading my darlings! ♡

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softshrimpy · 1 year ago

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How To Woo A Hot Principal

Step 9: Ask Her To Dance

Summary: Working at the weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-workers. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came to Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

Guys its a nice dance! Definitely not a chapter preceding deep plot building.🦐✨

Tags: @variant-2402 @the-bagel24 @eveymay @kimiinou @muffintopxs @h-doodles @bbykens @lilfartbox1 @bigolgay @winterfireblond

(pls let me know if you want to be tagged/ I missed you!)

Chapter 8

Cross Posted on AO3 here

HTWAHP Masterlist

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“I’ll see you later love, have a great day!” You called over your shoulder as you exited Larissa’s office.

You close the door behind you, smiling to yourself. You’re about to make the trip to your car when you run into two of your favourite Nevermore students, Yoko and Enid. The two of them are standing in the hallway just outside Larissa’s office with their arms crossed, staring expectantly up at you.

“Uhm good morning?” You offer.

“Did you ask Principal Weems to the dance?” Enid asks, doing her best to give you what you assume is meant to be a stern expression.

“The dance…?”

“The Rave’N. It’s a dance happening this weekend. Ask her.” Yoko explains.

“I mean I need a few more details but-“

“You have to ask her now!!” Enid urges.

“But I-“

“Please!” Enid pleads, and goddamn it the puppy dog eyes are out again.

You sigh, wondering how you got to the point where teens dictate some of your actions. You turn around, knocking on Larissa’s door before poking your head through. She’s sitting at her desk with her cute glasses resting on her nose again. She glances up at you, obviously confused as to why you’re back so soon.

“Darling? Is everything alright?” She asks, pausing her typing.

“Do you uhm. Would you like to- I mean I ran into Enid and Yoko and they mentioned this dance that’s happening this weekend and I was just wondering if you’d like to go with me?” You ask, suddenly nervous as fuck.

“Dear, are you talking about the Rave’N?” She replies.

“Uhm yeah? Should I not be…?”

“No, no, it’s just…we host the dance and I usually attend only as a chaperone. I wouldn’t want to force you to come along just for me to spend all evening breaking up troublesome teenagers.” She explains.

You make your way over to her, spinning her chair so that she’s facing you. She helps at the movement, looking up at you in confusion. You grab both of her hands before getting down on one knee. Now she’s really looking at you as if you’ve gone mad.

“Larissa Weems, it would be my honour to accompany you on an evening of breaking up horny teens and drinking punch.” You state, grinning up at her.

She takes you in, kneeling in front of her and looking up at her with so much adoration. She pulls you up and onto her lap, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your chin, and another to your nose.

“You’re far too adorable darling” she smiles, resting her forehead against yours.

“Is that a yes?” You grin, wrapping your arms around her neck and breathing her in.

“I suppose…” she hums.

You giggle, pressing a kiss to her forehead before standing from your place on her lap. You all but skip to the door.

“I’ll pick you up at 7 sharp,” you say, shorting her finger guns.

“It starts at 6 darling.” She chuckles, “And it’s on Saturday. You’ll want to wear something white.”

“5:45 it is my fair lady!” You amend, blowing her a kiss as you leave.

——————

You and Larissa made more solid arrangements later in the week. She had explained she would be checking the hall before the dance so it would be better for you to meet her there.

You decided to get her a corsage (because you were fucking in love with her and didn’t care if it was cheesy.) It had an assortment of white flowers in it, you really hope Larissa likes it.

You arrive at the dance about a few minutes early, making your way into the venue while marvelling at the decor. You look around the hall, remembering how Enid had explained the theme was “climate crisis meets extinction event, but in a fun way”, which you’re getting from the abundance of white and fake icicles in places.

However, your admiration of the room is cut short when you spot Larissa. She’s just finishing speaking with the DJ, giving you ample opportunity to stare at her like the work of art she is. She’s wearing a silver calf-length dress, with sleeves coming just over her elbows. She’s paired it with a pair of white gloves that are giving you terribly inappropriate thoughts(you’ll revisit those later). She’s still wearing her signature red lipstick and her hair up, although the style is a bit more intricate than usual. She looks ethereal, breathtaking, awe-inspiring.

By the time you realize you’ve forgotten how to breathe Larissa is making her way over to you, sporting the most dazzling smile. You manage to resume human functioning just as she comes to a stop in front of you. She looks you up and down, taking her sweet time and making your face flush.

“You look amazing. Like, I genuinely forgot how to breathe when I saw you amazing.” You blurt out.

You nearly squeal when she blushes and opens and closes her mouth at your words. You reach up to cup her face and press a chaste kiss on her blushing cheek, grinning up at her like the lovesick gay you are.

“Oh! I got you something,” you exclaim, “here!”

You offer her the corsage, watching her face to try and gauge her reaction. She stares at it, her face giving away nothing which makes you backtrack in case she hates it.

“It’s. I-it was a silly idea. You don’t have to wear it, I can just uhm throw it away. We can just forget I even brought it.” You ramble, lowering the corsage.

She stops you, staring down at the little assortment of flowers.

“Would you help me put it on?” She asks in the softest voice.

You nod, smiling up at her as she holds out her hand for you. You slip the corsage over her wrist, adjusting it to sit just right before squeezing her hand. Her eyes are sparkling, bright with emotion, one that looks almost like…love?

She opens her mouth to speak when you hear a gaggle of teens arrive, taking Larissa’s attention. She glances at them and then back at you, a conflicted look on her face. You squeeze her hands before nodding in the direction of the students.

“Go on, go be the sexy principal you are.” You chuckle.

She sends you a bright smile before heading off to greet the arriving students. You make your way over to the punch table, grabbing yourself a drink while watching Larissa as she chats with the students. She looks so proud and happy, and t warms your heart.

You eventually make your way back to Larissa’s side, essentially attaching yourself to her hip from that point on. She doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, she keeps shooting you the cutest looks between greeting the kids. When Enid arrives (with some boy who you vaguely recognize) she all but squeals at the two of you. The two go off to get drinks(something they’re calling yeti-tini’s which you find rather cute).

“I really thought she would be coming with Wednesday…” you murmur.

“Mmm…I think it will take them a bit of time for those two to stop dancing around their feelings,” she hums.

“At least we figured things out pretty quickly.” You deadpan, earning a snort from Larissa.

The rest of the night goes pretty smoothly. Wednesday shows up sporting a lovely black dress, with Tyler of all people (he’s a lovely kid but you do not see the chemistry there.) You and Larissa are gossiping about the different students when Marylin comes up to you.

“The place looks pretty great! I don’t know what the other Rave’ns have been like but I think we outdid ourselves.” She grins.

“You both really did do an amazing job.” You comment.

“Larissa, you went to school here, didn’t you? Do you remember being filled with joy and hope during your Rave’n?” She asks.

Larissa’s face falls a bit and she glances away from Marylin to look back over the sea of teens.

“All I really remember is disappointment…” she starts, “The girl I asked turned me down for someone else. Gomez Addams, in fact.”

“Wednesday’s father?” Marylin asks.

You’re smart enough to put two of two together and figure out Wednesday's mother is probably the ex-paramour she had mentioned a while back. You can’t help but wonder what on earth possessed her to turn down Larissa. I mean she was a walking-talking goddess.

However, you don’t think to much about it due to Larissa’s downright sad expression. Marylin heads off to go keep an eye on the punch bowl, leaving the two of you alone again.

You grab her hand, tugging her along behind you as you weave through the crowd. Larissa follows you, confused. You lead her into a nearby classroom, close enough that the music can still be heard.

“Darling, I do hope this is not an attempt to seduce me in a dark classroom.” She laughs. “We really should get back to chaperoning-“

You turn around and shush her with a finger on her lips. She stares down at you, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. You grab her hands and place them on your waist then wrap your arms around her shoulders. You start swaying gently, smiling up at her.

“I wanted to ask you to dance but thought doing that in front of a bunch of gossip-hungry teens might not be the best idea.” You explain.

She stares down at you, shocked before letting out a laugh. She shakes her head at you, swaying along to the muffled music.

“Alright, but just one song.” She hums.

“One song with a literal angel? I’ll take it.” You grin.

She rolls her eyes at you, smiling that cute little smile she has. She truly looks like an angel, all dressed in white with her sparkling blue eyes. She truly is the most gorgeous woman in the whole world.

You grab one of her hands and lift it over her head, stepping up onto your tip toes. She looks down at you, amused but ducks under your admittedly low arm in an awkward twirl anyway.

“I’d try to dip you but honestly I have the upper body strength of a twig.” You joke.

She laughs at that, a bright, loud sound that makes your heart flutter and your brain turns to mush. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of making her laugh and smile like that. You want to spend the rest of your life making her happy.

You slow your swaying as the song ends, beaming up at the dazzling blonde.

“Thank you for this darling…” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I know it doesn’t make up for your shitty dance,” you start, “but I would’ve killed myself if I didn’t get at least one dance with the prettiest girl at the dance.”

Despite the darkness of the classroom you manage to make out the blush on her cheeks. You stretch up and press a kiss to her lips. You move to settle back off of your tip toes when she chases after you, biting down on your lower lip. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you flush against her body. You moan into the kiss, allowing her tongue to lick into your mouth. Eventually, she pulls back, pressing one last kiss to your lips. You stare up at her smug, beautiful face, mouth agape.

“What- what was that for?” You breathe.

She simply grins down at you and shrugs, looking far too magnificent for your self-control.

“I’ll see you back inside then.” She hums, using her thumb to wipe some smudged lipstick from your face. “Maybe take a moment to…compose yourself hm?”

And with that, she saunters away, leaving you gaping and flushed in the dark classroom. You decide to go to the bathroom to “compose yourself” as Larissa so aptly put it.

“And she told me not to seduce her in a dark classroom, Gods above.” You murmur.

You’re making your way back from the bathroom when you bump into Yoko, the two of you stopping to chat for a bit. The two of you talk for a long while, she was telling you about all the gossip going on (which you found far more entertaining than you’d ever admit). The two of you are in the middle of discussing the Enid-Wednesday situation when you hear a scream from the direction of the dance.

You both exchange a look before bolting towards the commotion. When you reach the hall you notice groups of red, drenched students running out the doors. When you get inside you notice everything is covered in what you’re praying is red paint. You quickly locate Larissa, who’s standing in the middle of the mess looking both extremely pissed off and close to tears.

You quickly make your way over to her, doing your best to avoid getting too damp. You take her hands, doing your best to help her calm down while making your way out of the ruined dance.

You get back to her quarters and help her change out of the red-stained dress(thank god it was paint and not blood). You get her to take a shower and change into more comfy clothes, telling her you’ll help her sort out all the cleanup and sort everything out.

She’s almost calmed down a bit when her office door is thrown open. You’re about to fight whoever it is when you realize it’s a very freaked-out Yoko.

“Yoko what on earth-“ you start.

“Wednesday ran off into the woods. I overheard her talking to Tyler about it and he said he’s called his dad.” She interrupts.

“What? Why would he call sheriff-“

“It’s Eugene.” Yoko breathes. “He’s been attacked.”

#HTWAHP #larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #wednesday #larissa weems

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satanicspinosaurus · 1 year ago

Text

No Effort Without Error

Tags: hurt/ comfort, established relationship, post-game, Astarion X G/N Tav, they/them pronouns, bard!Tav, BDSM, kink negotiations, scene negotiations, sub Astarion, enthusiastic consent, collaring, accidental triggering, freeze trauma response, trauma spiral self-narration, confusion between abuser and partner, use of safeword, use of safeword by Dom, supportive partner, aftercare, use of mage hand to respect boundaries, Addams family reference, talking through emotions, author tried to do some themes or something, author’s happily married & wants you to know that having severe trauma doesn’t mean you can’t have a happy relationship, author/Tav believes in people’s ability to grow, Astarion is in process of agreeing, Tav started out as kind of a blank slank character and ooops I contextualized them, kissing

Length: 4k

Rating: Mature

Read on A03: here.

Summary: Astarion is accidentally triggered in a scene, after being really excited about trying something new, and Tav provides comfort as they reaffirm their relationship. I’ve tried to tag everything, but if you have questions please just shoot me a message. I’m always happy to try and help people engage with challenging media.

With thanks: To the wonderful @just-a-refrigerator for proof-reading this! It was incredibly helpful during writing to know I’d have a pair of eyeballs to comb this over before it went out. You are amazing and helped me grow as a writer. (And a general thanks to the Astarion Brainrot Discord Server. You all are feral and I love it.🖤)

•── ⋆⋅☾☆☽⋅⋆ ──•

A bard was a solid choice for a traveling companion, Astarion reasoned, if one’s goal was to start living again. He and Tav had spent only a short amount of time in Baldur’s Gate before hitting the road again. They were eager to find out what fortunes and wonders lay ahead of them as they chased a solution to the sunshine problem.

Their time together since the Nautiloid crash had been enriching in more ways than just coin. Tav’s ability to entertain patrons and convince Innkeepers to allow the couple to stay for free was instrumental in keeping them in finer beds. Astarion also never missed an opportunity to joke about Tav’s sword swallowing ability after the crowd finished cheering. In part because the bard never took it as an actual advance.

Maybe that was what made it easy to be in their company. The understanding that one could play a role without it touching something deep or hidden in them. Sometimes, beautiful people just wanted to lay down innuendo without it being leveraged as a secret sign of trauma against them. Tav would just chuckle, as they did today, and escort Astarion to their accommodations.

The door opened without protest. With a quick flick of the wrist, Tav was shucking off layers and handing them to the mage hand they had dubbed Thing. The little clawed creature didn’t seem to loyally return after dropping Tav’s weapons in the corner, instead cheekily hovering by Astarion and gesturing to help him with his coat. Astarion didn’t really buy that Thing was its own being, like the bard liked to claim. But the little helpful gestures it did touched him enough to have even the snippy vampire giving a polite nod of thanks as Thing ferried his coat away for him.

“What do you think of the room?” Tav asked as they pulled off their boots, eyeing them carefully for wear.

Astarion looked around and shrugged. It was acceptable. Probably the best Inn this middling city had. “It has a private bath.” he eventually surmised. “And art that doesn’t immediately make me want to claw my eyes out.”

Tav made a soft sound of acknowledgment. “I might drop off my shoes to the cobbler tomorrow, then. I do not like how this heel is feeling.”

“We should offload some of the plunder,” Astarion added. “It’s been a while and I don’t want to risk anything.”

The new bag of holding was a Godsend really, but Astarion wasn’t eager to overload it and send its contents into the Astral plane. Considering how sticky both of their hands were, it was a real possibility.

“What do we even have in there now?” Tav asked. “Maybe just start with jewelry? I saw some sign in Elvish saying there was a jeweler’s when we came in today. They would give you a good price.”

Astarion snorted. Tav was shameless about flirting their way to profit. They treated it like combat: sometimes, the pale elf would be irresistible and wildly effective. Other times, Tav would draw the spotlight to themselves and handle it solo.

He retrieved the leather bag from the closet, and undid the closure with ease. He tipped over the enchanted leather, bidding it to dump all the jewelry it contained onto the bed. A hodge-podge of trinkets and amulets rained down. Rings so heavy they pressed into the sheets, a fine wrought golden belt of coins, and some uncut gems topped their little hoard of treasure. Astarion had already begun looking through the pieces when, after a small pause, the bag deposited a dog collar with a detailed metal tag onto the bed.

Tav chuckled, “I suppose the bag thinks we could get coin for the tag.”

They picked it up and turned it over in their hand. It was fine dark dyed leather, with matching lambskin on the interior. Something a noble would commission for a beloved pet. Perhaps a dalmatian, considering the use of contrast white stitching and its generous size. It had been a bizarre find, part of a cache they hurriedly pushed into the bag a few weeks ago. They had completely forgotten about it an hour later, when Astarion’s knife found the back of an Oathbreaker and failed to kill her instantly.

Astarion glanced over. “It won’t sell for much,” he said in a fairly measured tone. “Not compared to the rest.”

The lack of lilt made Tav perk up and flick their brown eyes over to Astarion. A few months ago, perhaps, he would have busied himself. Made a show of checking over other items to hide from the thoughts that had bubbled up into his head. But things were different now. The two of them had history. Trust was building.Those thoughts didn’t have to live in the shadows anymore.

It was clear he was thinking of other uses for it.

“I suppose it would look rather dashing on me,” Tav offered.

They brushed aside a few dreads from their neck, enjoying the way Astarion looked over the exposed area with a specific type of hunger. But when Tav brought up the collar to loosely display it, the vampire paused.

“Of course, my dear,” he finally agreed. “But I thought perhaps- I could try it this time?”

Tav lit up at the way a soft blush tinged Astarion’s ears. Neither of them had many direct restrictions on playtime. Both of them were fairly consummate omnivores when it came to that sort of desire. Between them, though, Astarion tended to default to being active and in control. But recently, his need to be in control had given way to a need to enjoy life.

Tav nodded, letting a warm smile bloom on their face. “What are you thinking?” they asked, holding onto the collar for the moment.

“We don’t have any other obligations for the night,” Astarion pointed out. “It could be…fun to have all my needs taken care of for me.”

They had done that a few times, but in reverse. Astarion really could be quite sweet and giving when no one was watching. He was also shameless at times. He enjoyed forcing his love to eat from the ground, then pull the make-shift leash forward to allow them to use their mouth a bit higher up.

“I would enjoy that,” Tav said. “Anything specific?”

Astarion was already tossing the other items back into the bag. He was eager, thinking of the last time he had allowed himself to submit to Tav’s creativity and generosity in bed.

“Feed me, clean me, and bed me,” he listed out. “Tell me when I’ve been good but also don’t be afraid to pull me around by the ring on the collar if I’m not.”

“Anything else if you are naughty?” Tav pressed.

“No kicks,” Astarion added quickly. “I don’t mind a light spanking, but I don’t want to be back handed tonight.”

Tav reached out and offered a hand for Astarion to nuzzle into. They noticed that the elf let his ear brush their hand, and they took up the implicit offer to gently stroke the base- delighting in the little shiver it caused.

“You want to be my beloved pet tonight.” Tav summarized. “You want to submit and to be cared for and to feel how you are the center of my world.”

They could feel Astarion beginning to melt into them, trusting the weight of his head into their hand. Tav kept stroking that delicate piece of flesh and delighting in how it made him hood his eyes in pleasure.

“Unfair,” Astarion whined with no true complaint in his heart. “I think you’ve already started.”

Tav chuckled, as if they were afraid too loud of a sound would spook their lover’s relaxation. “Don’t tell anyone- but I am quite fond of you. It is embarrassing really. It used to be a part time hobby, but I do believe I’ve gone at least to full time now.”

Maybe traveling with Tav was easy, because they brought laughter to Astarion’s world. From gallows humor to little moments like this- where the two of them brushed fingers together and laughed quietly about how absurdly cheesy it all was.

It was a sound that had begun to settle in Astarion’s bones.

“Well, let me strip first, before you start,” Astarion eventually said. “Keep yours on for now.”

Tav rolled their eyes as Astarion began husking off layers. “Bossy little thing,” they laughed, shaking their head theatrically enough their earring tinkled in agreement.

“Oh, but think about how wonderful I’ll be, properly trained,” Astarion said as he struggled to unlace his pants. A clear bulge was making the task more difficult.

“Might have to commission a matching leash then,” Tav mused. “I bet you would look so lovely crawling up to me.”

“Ugh, stop winding me up. At least until I’m out of these damned pants,” Astarion complained like he hadn’t told the tailor to make them this tight. “Damn things look good, but I regret them every time I have to take them off.”

Tav chuckled, but obeyed the request- delighting in watching his lover squirm out of very tight trousers on the ground, his thick thighs working against him half the time. There wasn’t an inch of Astarion they didn’t adore, but in that moment it was hard not to think about how deliciously long his legs were- how many wonderful options they offered for Tav to touch and nibble on.

Eventually, smallclothes went flying. All that was left was one very excited vampire kneeling in front of Tav. The delicious blush on his chest wasn’t even remotely the only visual example of his excitement. But it was glorious to think how that tinge on his pale chest was only possible because Astarion was fed well enough. For Tav to realize that they were responsible for both the physical ability to do so and the emotions that inspired it.

“What’s your word, love?” they asked.

For a while the vampire had sassed them each time they had asked. But now it was just part of the game. It inspired anticipation. Like an orchestra tuning up to let the audience know the show was about to start.

“Goose,” Astarion replied, preening under the nod Tav gave them.

“Alright then, my pet,” Tav said, holding out the collar. “Just lean forward, let me collar you, and we will begin.”

The lining felt pleasantly soft on Astarion’s skin. He helped Tav place it on him by eagerly offering his neck. The bard’s nimble fingers latched it, then slipped between Astarion’s throat and the collar to check for fit.

The second that finger left, moving upwards with its friends to run through his curls with all the affection he knew Tav had for him, Astarion realized how cold the room was.

“Look at you, my good boy,” Tav murmured. They focused on gently using their long nails to scratch at Astarion’s scalp in a way that usually sent tingles down his spine.

His body did move- shaking on little of its own accord. The weight of the collar was pressing down on him, trapping him in his own skin and away from the moment. Something in his brain whispered not to blink, not to look away- something was coming. Something bad. He was trapped, but at least he could have the privilege of watching it hurt him. But only if he didn’t close his eyes.

“Astarion?”

The sound was a little muffled, a little nasally. He needed to respond, right? Those were his the rules. He had to obey in all things; he was his? Theirs? To have your name called was a direct command to look. He needed to look at him them.

But Astarion couldn’t force his neck to turn, to face the situation. To realize the gravity of it all. The knowledge that pain would come, that it would be his fault because he still couldn’t look, turned the fine shivers into full tremors.

“Alright. OK. This is OK,” came the voice. “I’m going to use ‘goose’. I’ll keep you safe Astarion. I promise.”

Dissociation was a thing Astarion still struggled with. This was the opposite of that, somehow. He wasn’t far away, present but not here- safe in a manner of speaking by retreating into his own mind. No, he was nailed to the spot, trapped under the surface of his skin- forced to feel, to accept, but not to act.

He was entombed in his own body. His only company was the fear of being left to suffer.

“This needs to come off,” he heard, the voice sounding like it was coming through gauze. “I am going to use my hands to take this off you, Astarion. You might feel it press on the back of your neck for a second.”

The weight lifted away, the sound of the tag sickly singing as it was tossed to some other corner of the room. He was supposed to breathe, right?

“Do you want me to touch you, Astarion?”

The thought of being trapped, being forced to be complicit in his own abuse, sent a spark of anger up into his mouth. But it was fanned by a vague feeling that he could speak his mind without fear of being slapped down.

“No,” Astarion hissed. “Get away from me!”

He needed space. He needed to feel he was at least as big as the body that trapped him.

“Of course. Of course love, I will not touch you until you tell me to,” came the calm response. “You are shivering. Do you want a blanket?”

Was he? Astarion looked down. His eyes struggled to focus on a hand. His hand, he remembered as he flexed it. Yes, it was shaking. His gaze wandered up the arm his hand was attached to.The forearm was goose-fleshed.

“Yes,” he decided. “I want to be warm.”

The smell of familiar magic- rose oil and iron- filled the room. There were some assorted sounds- footsteps, pillows hitting the ground- and then a familiar shadowy hand presented a quilt it could barely hold in its claws.

“Thing can help you put it on, if you want Astarion,” offered the bard.

Astarion nodded. Thing T. Thing was a familiar, safe sight now. It was always gentle, as it was now, laying the blanket onto his shoulders but bearing the weight so Astarion could sort it out the way he wanted it- creating a barrier between him and the world.

“Thank you, Thing,” he replied automatically.

The room came back to him after a few minutes. It wasn’t exactly fair to say it left, but it took time for his brain to be able to accept and process the world around him instead of hyper-fixating on keeping himself alive. He had to consciously realize that there was ground for him to be sitting on. That the ground probably came with a ceiling as there was no free-moving air.

Eventually, he realized there was also the gentle sound of a violin, singing a song.

It was one with no words Just swimming melodies, occasionally crowned by a happy chord. It helped Astarion remember. He’d heard an elven mother humming it to her child a few moons ago, as the babe cried from the pain of teeth coming in. He automatically focused on it. Tav asked him if he knew it, and Astarion had responded honestly- all of that was lost to him now. But he liked how comforting it sounded.

Weeks later, when Astarion was having trouble resting during the peak of the day while the rest of their temporary party laughed in the sun, Tav sat next to him and, without a word, began playing it.

Maybe that was why traveling with Tav was so easy. They were confident of their own beautiful voice- able to hold a room and charm even frigid, scared hearts that had long since stopped beating to movement. But they were also comfortable around others' painful silence, welcoming it like an old lover- with an open heart and a compliment that was somehow always genuine.

It had worn on Astarion for a long time, waiting for the bard to blink and finally admit they were in over their head- that the would-be savior’s reach had finally exceeded their grasp. But eventually, Tav showed him their own scars. He had lifted his hand to a small one on their right eyebrow and cheek. The first one. One that even Astarion’s clever eyes could barely see.

Eventually Astarion learned they kept their eyes kind and open, not because they didn’t know what danger was, but in spite of it.

Maybe that’s why it was so easy traveling with Tav. Because, somewhere along the way, Astarion had figured out their hero persona had cracks. Cracks they had delicately, skillfully tried to cover. Cracks he could help smooth out sometimes, when someone misgendered them or an enemy carried a whip. Cracks that, deep down, under the near unshakeable confidence performers have, Tav feared made them unlovable. But Astarion could say those cracks were nothing compared to their jovial spirit or clever eyes.

Astarion yearned for those warm, brown eyes. The kind that reminded him of dark soil deep in the forest, filled with all the richness and potential of creation. Speckled with a million curiosities that shallow people might miss by focusing on the strong cheekbones or soft lips nearby. He found them waiting for him, like always, hopeful they could be of any service.

“I want you to touch me, Tav,” Astarion realized out loud.

The bard laid their violin down and tapped the bed, offering the space. “It might do you some good to move your limbs,” they suggested. “But I am always happy to come to you.”

Astarion looked at the ground. Yes, he could move. The walls weren’t quite so close to prevent that. The floorboards creaked in protest as he dragged himself and his blanket over them.

He sank into the bed, deciding to lean on Tav’s shoulder. Maybe it helped a bit to realize this pinned down one of their arms- keeping them close, but less able to respond. It was grounding to remember that so many things were on Astarion’s terms now. Yes, because he was free.

But also because Tav was gentle and would never deny him a single comfort.

Little thoughts began to swim in his head- phrases he could pluck from the ether and begin a conversation with. I didn’t know, please believe me. I am sorry, please don’t punish me. Please don’t leave me. Please promise you’ll trust me again when I say I want this. Please tell me I am not broken.

Please, please, please- a choir of hungry ghosts that had long grown tired of asking to have not been hurt, and instead found smaller and smaller requests to be disappointed on. Until Tav came in with their bleeding heart, and fed them so graciously Astarion could begin to remember they were just specters he carried- and not him.

Astarion didn’t have to bargain with them. He suspected they would always be there. But now he could let them rest and find other things to play with that would nourish his soul.

“I really wanted it,” Astarion finally said, after his hand traced patterns on Tav’s thigh for a few minutes.

“I know,” Tav agreed. “You’ve gotten very good at asking for things and letting yourself have them.”

The bard paused and offered their palm. “May I kiss you?”

They smiled when Astarion granted them the privilege of a hand, bowing their head to press a slow kiss on the back of his hand.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” they said, not having moved an inch. Their breath was warm as they spoke, fluttering on Astarion’s hand.

There was something about the way they said it, that Astarion instantly knew they meant after he had been collared. He frowned, not sure how to take it.

Astarion didn’t want to think the truest core of him was scared. That if someone unearthed him, or that if he let someone dig deep, there would be only fear and broken things to find.

“I don’t know if I want you to think of me like that,” he began. “Like some cold and timid person, half ready to cry when he’s finally, truly naked.”

Tav sat back up, offering for Astarion to reclaim his resting spot on their shoulder or duck under and be held close. The elf chose the latter, enjoying the space between ribs and arms made strong by swordplay and silly acrobatics.

“I do not think of you like that.” Tav promised.

Astarion accepted the answer- a simple negative that painted him as so many other wonderful things that even Tav’s silver tongue couldn’t explain. The bard was so trusting towards him, at times it was infectious.

A thought tickled Astarion’s brain.

“Thank you for using the safeword,” he mumbled. “It’s good to know that it’s not that I wasn’t being pleasing enough for you. But that…maybe me being truly hurt wasn’t something you wanted.”

Tav showed their other hand coming slowly to join the other one- pausing, giving Astarion a chance to defend his space- to deny being boxed in, even by affection, if it was unwanted.

“I hear vampires are long-lived,” Tav eventually said. “I would suspect that given our adventurousness, it will not be the last time one of us has to use it. Even if you never wanted to do anything like that again, I want you to know that you can always tell me to stop.”

Astarion hummed, accepting the point. He chewed on it though, especially the last sentence.

“I don’t think you exactly need a safeword for life,” he retorted.

Tav laughed, clear and bright. “Your passions are too great, Astarion, to be content with what is laid at your feet. That is one of the things I love about you. You go for life’s throat, even if you might stumble in the process.”

There was mirth in their eyes as they thought about some future Astarion couldn’t really see. “I just want you to chase it as hard as you can. You know I’ll be here to try and catch you when you ask for it.”

They stayed like that for a while- Astarion enjoying the way Tav just breathed, their ribs slightly pressing into him with each breath. His eyes wandered, surveying the room. The way Thing rested in the corner, eager to be called upon. The happy trail of his own clothes strewn on the floor. The way the collar rested on the nightstand- far enough away to be safe, but precious enough to deserve a proper spot.

He would have to think later if this was a failure or not. Something deep in his gut churned, insisting it was. Astarion wasn’t sure if he wanted to listen to it. But the way Tav held him in the moment, devoted and without reservation- he knew this was safe.

Astarion leaned to catch his beloved's mouth, to taste their enthusiasm, their softness as Tav allowed him to devour them- trusting him to take the lead and find joy for them both in the fragile, uneasy moment.

Maybe that was why traveling with Tav was simple. Because they knew their love was a verb, and not something that was found in a single heart. It was not something that could be tainted by a single word, or broken by even a terrifyingly, truly unintentional slight.

It was something they did together- even if they sometimes accidentally stumbled in the process.

One of them got to be the first person that hour to say I love you. And the other one got to smile and chose to say it back.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧��˖⋆

Author Notes: Thank you for reading this! As always, I would like to remind you thirsty folks to hydrate a bit if needed. :3 I’d also love to hear if you had any comments or thoughts about this piece. (Good or bad! If something didn’t hit, let me know.) Also- just curious if you HCed which person said “I love you first” (and why) I would love to hear about it. I do have a small follow-up planned thanks to our Discord talking about *boots* that will be in a similar vibe. And one about Tav having their own issues for Astarion to help them on! I didn’t plan to add another, usual character to my WIP list, but this they/them bard!Tav was super fun to write.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #SpinoWrites #kink is cool and fun #author rejects the idea that people are broken #author wants you to keep growing

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captainseamech · 3 months ago

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//*pics the mic* okay this may sound ridiculous at this point, but I’m here to once again talk about High Tide’s unique features because I have nothing better to do. Last time, I talked about his armor and how his spark is protected thanks to his altmode. Now I wanted to talk about something more interesting that is, more often than not, mentioned in most of my threads: High Tide releasing steam.

You may be wondering why the hell do I want to talk about this even though I did a whole meta post about the situation (which you should check btw). In that post, I talked about the circumstances of which he can start to release steam out of control, not how and / or why he does that. And that’s what I’m going to talk about tonight.

As you may know, I mostly use GR from the OVA for aesthetic purposes and I did use him in that study post to illustrate what I meant. Yesterday, I replied to an ask and mentioned in the tags that I loved the nuclear powered sentient robot that is GR (and still do ofc)... which made me wonder how a nuclear powered core can release steam when under pressure and how this is also applied to HT. After some study diving, I got my answer and I’m here to share it with you guys.

There are two types of submarines in terms of propulsion: diesel-powered and nuclear-powered, with High Tide being the latter. His nuclear core type is Boiling Water Reactor (or BWR for short), which works by having its reactor core heat water to turn it into steam and drive a steam engine connected to it. I’m not going to be too in-depth as to how it works because I’m a simple writer, but here’s the article talking more about the BWR for you to read later.

Thanks to this reactor, High Tide is able to control his steaming to get more power and before you ask if said steam is toxic to inhale, it isn’t. Well it actually is, but one of the safety procedures used in nuclear powered submarines with BWR is to have vents that can filter the radiation from the steam to make it non-toxic for plants and operators inside. So yeah, High Tide has a lot of those vents spread throughout himself internally, so you can easily breathe through that. Speaking of safety procedures...

As I mentioned in the same post where I talked about how much steam releasing is considered too much, I did also say this can be mallefic to him. Sure, when he gets mad and needs to cool down after his core spray system (which is exclusive to BWRs) activates in order to stop the generation of steam, therefore cooling him down. He can also activate special fans he has to manually cool himself through ‘breathing’ out of his mouth, which he can also control; but in case he’s exceeding his capability, his Emergency core-cooling systems (or ECCS for short) will activate in an attempt to shut down his core. You can read about all of the safety systems here, it’s quite interesting!

However, if all of that fails due to him non-stop pressuring himself, the reactor will boil to the point of melting, causing health problems to High Tide along the way. He will start to malfunction and have a very negative reaction, as this heat might reach other areas of his body and, potentially, melt his spark chamber and reach his spark, causing him to collapse while leaking a scary green smoke out of his frame and possibly some energon with it, indicating that he could not contain his own radiation no more.

High Tide obliviously turned himself into a dangerous nuclear hazard, and will only find out about this the day he dies to his own core.

#🌊 | outside the ship / ooc #🌊 | through the soul of a sailor / study #[ am I on FBIs watching list yet ]

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corporatefrog · 2 years ago

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╰┈➤ Welcome Back to the Channel part 15; red string of CONSPIRACY

✧.* featuring yn opening up to Kyle about their recent theories : ̗̀➛ notes - I always get nervous when I post written out parts (esp when it's a smau) but I felt like this needed to be in person for the effect. The next part will be mainly written too so get ready! tags - college au, superhero au, smau

series masterlist previous | next

It’s got to make sense. It HAS to make sense. If it doesn’t make sense I’ve spent the past week thinking about it and that’s a week wasted that I could’ve used to do something else or literally anything.

My vision blurred as I stared at the cork board, eyes tracing the same track of red yarn from picture to news article to picture to news article to picture-

It was a vicious cycle that had trapped me for what felt like hours but could’ve been minutes. Or days. Time came and went in no consistent interval. I woke up, went to class, came home and stared at this board until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

I hadn’t made a video in a few weeks and I’d postponed the interview I had scheduled with Fast Pass with no new date set. Another lost opportunity because I couldn’t get my shit together. This is all I had right now. So I had to be right. Even if the theory made me sound like I’d never had a critical thought in my life.

Which it does. Kyle didn’t even respond after you told him. That means no one believes you. It means your theory doesn’t make sense. This is BUTTERS we’re talking about.

Yeah but if it’s wrong, that means those people are right. Even if they’re just spreading hate on the internet to make themselves feel better, they have lives nonetheless. If I assisted someone who’s actively ruining people’s lives, does that make me just as bad as him?

I shake the thoughts away. I’m not a bad person. I may make questionable choices but what college student doesn’t? It’s a part of growing up. So I have to be right about this. But what does that mean moving forward? What do I do knowing one of my best friends is a super villain?

A stinging feeling begins behind my eyes as I feel the familiar pressure across the bridge of my nose that always happens before I start crying.

Why can’t I figure this out? Why can’t I let this go? Why am I stuck-

A knock at the door startles me from my concentration. My head whips to the door as though it would open on its own to reveal who interrupted my time of focus.

“Yn? Hello?” Kyle’s voice sounds from the other side of the door.

Oh fuck.

I looked back to the cork board which took up the majority of my living room.

Why did I buy this again? I wondered, realizing how much space the board actually took up. The once tidy living room had become cluttered with empty coffee cups and takeout containers littered over the coffee table, end tables, and ground. Bits of red yarn sat on the ground from cut up scraps. Other lengths that had connected discarded evidence sat in a pile on a stool, waiting for the chance to be connected to the ever expanding web once again.

“Are you in there?” Kyle’s voice rang through the apartment again.

I can’t let him in here! He’s going to think I’m some hermit conspiracy theorist!

…Well I kind of am a conspiracy theorist.

Deciding to ignore that realization, I lunged for the nearest piece of trash (a 3 day old Chipotle bowl that I just kept forgetting to walk the 3 feet to the kitchen trash) and tossed it into the garbage can. Speed cleaning the apartment lifted a weight from my shoulders, making the small living room feel less claustrophobic.

Wow, I feel better already. Maybe I should open the blind and run a vacuum through real quick- KYLE!

I spun and walked toward the door, fixing my appearance in the 10 second walk to the door to the best of my ability. Even if I’ve been stuck in my apartment for a week and a half, I didn’t want to look like it.

Unlocking the door, I put on my best “I’m totally fine and mentally stable!” face.

“Hey, kyle!”

If I looked bad, Kyle somehow looked worse. The usually maintained curls frizzed into a blur atop his head and his shirt was clearly on backwards with a Fruit of the Loom logo showing proudly at the base of his neck. His eyes darted around the hallway and into my apartment through the sliver he could see through the cracked door.

The fuck is up with him?

I think while also wearing a shirt backwards after throwing away a week’s worth of take out food and diluted iced coffee as though I was any better off.

That’s not what we’re focusing on right now. I’m perfectly stable, duh.

“You good?” I asked, leaning against the door frame to keep him from seeing my conspiracy board.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one that texted me an essay about your theories then called yourself an asshole.”

“Oh those?” I forced out a laugh, waving a hand to brush off the concerns, “Those were just joke, duh! You took those seriously?”

“They sounded pretty serious to me.” Kyle sighed, running a hand through his ragged hair in a way that somehow didn’t catch his fingers in the mess of curls, “Can I come in? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

My eyes darted back into the apartment. The giant cork board stuck out like a neon sign saying “A MENTALLY ILL PERSON LIVES HERE!” I couldn’t let someone see me like this. Texting Kyle in the first place was a mistake. He’ll think I’m not thinking clearly, that I’m not someone to be trusted. The work I put into being reliable yn who’s always there to be a person you can lean on will be ruined. No one will ever trust me again.

But don’t you want someone else to know? Just knowing that someone else sees your stress instead of shoving it down until it spills over?

The thought alone of telling someone about these thoughts, of sharing the burden I’d created for myself, cleared the clouds fogging my mind. He can be someone who will listen. He can be a witness so I’m not the only one who knows that I’m struggling.

I stepped back, pulling the door open so Kyle could step through.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.” I started, hoping to mediate the embarrassment of letting someone into my stress lair.

Kyle shook his head as a small smile tugged at his lips, “It’s no problem, if you’ve ever seen stan’s room-” His sentence died out as he noticed the cork board. You know, the giant one covering my living room wall filled with pictures and newspaper clipping connected by red yarn.

“Oh.” Was all he said.

I shut the door behind him. Kyle jumped slightly at the sound, turning his gaze to follow me as I walked. He doesn’t say a word. Only staring at the cork board, the remains of trash I’d missed on my quick clean, and my own disheveled appearance.

Might as well address the elephant in the room.

“Do you want to talk about the cork board?” I asked, continuing before he had a chance to reply, “Let's talk about the cork board because I’ve been dying to talk about this cork board all day.” Walking up to the board, I pointed to the center where two photos sat: one of the supervillain Professor Chaos and the other of elementary education major Butters Stotch.

“Professor Chaos. His name keeps coming up over and over again. Everyday Call Girl is sending out alerts about this guy,” I move my hand to point at different tweets I’d printed out and pinned to the board, “Professor Chaos takes hostages in a McDonalds Play Place for a birthday party. Professor Chaos attempts to sign himself as the mayor of South Park using a fake charity petition. Professor Chaos hijacks the news station to declare the weather today ‘a 100% chance of Chaos’. This entire corner is just tweets about Professor Chaos!”

Kyle sits down on the couch without a word, eyes still following my every move. I start pacing across the living room.

Why isn’t he saying anything? Is it because he doesn’t believe me?

“So I start to look closer at his actions, his way of speaking, everything that makes Professor Chaos who he is. But it’s around this same time that I start to text a certain person more because we have a philosophy class together.” I return to the board and point to screenshots of text messages.

“Here Butters talks about getting grounded for eating two cookies and here Professor Chaos talks about being grounded for wearing his villain outfit then got grounded for trying to get ungrounded.” I look between the cork board and Kyle, trying to justify my hypothesis with the urgency in my voice, “No one gets grounded as much as Butters. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that!”

“But that’s not even the smoking gun!” I exclaimed, pointing to another corner of the board, “Last week, Butters missed our philosophy class- which he has never done- and when I texted him, he said he was at a showing of Frozen on Ice with his mom in Denver. But when you look at the schedule for Frozen on Ice,” I pause for effect, “they don’t start shows for this season in Denver until next month. Right day, wrong month.”

“But guess what was going on last week? Professor Chaos attacks main street and is tackled by Super Craig. Landing him with another defeat and some pretty gnarly bruises to boot. The kind of bruises you’d need to miss class to cover up.” I finished with a sigh, glad to finally tell someone the monologue that had been racing through my head for the past week.

I brace myself for Kyle’s response. His eyes are locked onto the cork board and my scribbled sticky notes shouting various exclamations of discovery and panic. With a deep breath, he levels his gaze on me.

What is he thinking? Is he trying to find a nice way to say I’ve lost it? Have I lost it?

“Yn-” He begins but I cut him off.

“I know it sounds crazy, okay? I know it sounds like I’m reaching by claiming the only truly nice person I know is the town’s resident fucking super villain-”

“You’re right.”

Kyle’s response blasts through my clouded mind. I physically take a step back as my face morphs from frantic stress to confusion.

“What did you just say?” I ask, shoulders remaining tense as a hand twists into the fabric of my shirt. Kyle sighs, looking away and muttering something to himself. He raises a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes before looking back at me.

“You’re right about Professor Chaos.”

The words I hoped to hear, the words I thought would finally take the weight off my shoulders and release the stress that had gripped my nerves, only intensified the panic in my mind.

“You mean you believe me, right?” I started slowly, trying to clarify the simple language mistake Kyle made.

“No, I mean you’re right.”

Before my mind could begin to wrap around the first revelation, Kyle continued speaking.

“I can’t tell you. I’m not allowed to. I shouldn’t even be telling you this. But I know someone who can, or at least someone who has permission.”

I began shifting my weight from foot to foot, holding back the urge to begin pacing again as I ran a hand through my hair.

“You know how cryptic you’re being right now, right?” I said.

“Yeah I know.” Kyle's leg began to bounce as his own nerves began to peak through, “I’m walking a very thin line and I’m trying not to get us both into major trouble.” He looked up to me, trying to communicate a message I couldn’t understand.

“With who?”

“Someone with a lot more authority than me. Someone who can explain things more if you come with me.” Kyle urged.

What does that even mean? Let’s not forget that he said we were right. How does he know that? Why does he know that?

My thoughts fought against each other to be the one addressed first but with so many questions, it felt impossible to single out one from the mass. Everything was happening so fast. Everything changed so fast. When did the mood of the room become so urgent? Did it always feel like this?

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to pause the thoughts. Nothing is going to get done at this rate. So I need to take the first step forward.

“Okay… yeah.”I started slowly. Kyle nodded and began to stand but I held up a hand for him to wait, “But only if you promise we can get ice cream afterwards.”

Kyle looked at me with an exasperated expression, “Are you seriously using this to get free ice cream?”

This is what he’s surprised by?

I raised my eyebrow at him and pointed to the chaotic corkboard, “You just told me my batshit conspiracy theory was right and now you want me to follow you to an unknown location to talk to an unknown person. Fuck yes I want free ice cream.”

Kyle considered the cork board for a moment before sighing.

“Fine. We’ll get ice cream.”

I muttered a quick “Fuck yeah.” to myself in celebration before looking back at Kyle,

“Okay I’ll get my coat.”

I grabbed my jacket and followed Kyle out the door, not nervous about where I’d be going, but scared that I wouldn’t like what I found.

taglist [reply to be added]: @sula0kin @lacuna-at-dawn @anglettecolours @cocolena@sukisprettyface @feverish-dove @sweetadonisbutbetter @hand-writxen@mishstuff@sophtophie @triphovia @lacunaanonymoused @inkedintothepaper @toodeepintofandoms@mmmaackerel @sillybilly-123@n0tangeliccc

#im begging for someone to understand the pepe silvia references #i even copied a bit of the structure from charlie's monologue in the episode #welcome back to the channel #south park smau #south park x reader #south park #corporatefrog #tfbw #the fractured but whole

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dignityofadog · 5 months ago

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eughhhhh why does my entire life revolve around ollie!!! not that im complaining, of course. if ollie isnt online then im thinking about ollie. if im not online then im thinking about ollie. oh, i did something that reminds me of ollie. would ollie like this? should i show this to ollie? i wonder if ollie does the same things i do. in fact, i wonder what ollie's routine is. that skk pic reminds me of us! ill tag them. i found a silly audio i could send to them. i also saw a picture of a cat. ollie seems to like cats. i should compare him to them. they mentioned they like getting compared to cats. and biting stuff (or themselves, really). ollie really does sound like one. their bedtime is around 11:00 pm. but they live in ireland, which is around 8 hours ahead from where i live, so its usually 3 in the afternoon when they go offline. they get up at midnight in my time, so 8 o'clock there. i try to pass the time but it takes forever. sometimes ill nap or read. maybe masturbate. it gets boring without them. ollie's never skateboarded before; they think its scary. he said they think their height is 5'1, just an inch under me. i like to tease ollie about that. ollie takes really short showers, too (just like him). i also tease them about that. it doesnt seem to like flirting, but when its playful and non-genuine they find it funny, although i try to avoid it altogether. in a discord chat, before they met me, ollie said partner was a term they favored over girlfriend/boyfriend. i think its cute; im starting to prefer 'partner' too. it said they thought about cuddling a lot. ill try to bring it up once in awhile to know theyre not alone in that thought. they bought a plant after we first met. we call each other names a lot, like 'homosexual' or 'gay' or smth about the country we live in. its fun to do that. theyll make posts on the transmasc dazai headcanon. it projects a lot onto dazai, especially 15zai. they like bsd gacha reactions but not the ooc ones yet he stills watches them anyways. the only types he doesnt watch are the videos including youtube shorts. its relatable though. they recently made a strawpage if any of y'all have scrolled so far. ollie is autistic and says they take showers a lot because he doesnt like being sweaty. it said theyre asexual so even if theyre fine with sex jokes, i also try not to bring them up often. he has three dogs in total, four at their dad's home (the ones most popular in being sent to me are ruby and archie; his dad's girlfriend has two other dogs called suzie and max) and one at their mom's (poppy). they call their mom 'mam' which i, again, think is cute. their birthday is december 20th. thats only six days before mine. ollie sends me voice messages a lot and i really like their voice. some words are kinda hard to hear with the dialect differences but its mainly understandable. ollie introduced me to the game pony town a few weeks ago and i really go on there to boop and kiss them. other than that, im not online often. purple, yellow, certain shades of green and brown, and blue are some colors ollie said they liked. i once asked if theyd rate himself out of ten. ollie's answer was '10/10 ofc'. ill think about if i could vent about unimportant things that seem important at the moment. ollie could do the same to me. i wouldnt mind. i find that everything about it is important. it might like this song or this band or this genre. whats his favorite author? should i vc or is it at their moms home? why wont they respond? ollie must be busy. but what if ollie isnt? what if theyre ignoring me? i really do know i need to stop getting caught up in my head. i know they care for me. but even the tiniest bit of thinking they dont like me makes me upset. but then they text me and i get happy again!! i love talking to them <3 it brings me comfort. speaking of comfort, they'll try to make me feel better when i mention im sad, it doesnt help much, but i appreciate the thought. i really do. ollie's kind.

#princeposting #ollie tag #yap session #if u see this ollie js know ily :D #/p #i reached word limit btw

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vanmarkus · 1 year ago

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WIP Wednesday 🧇

Tagged by and posted for the lovely @forthewolves who voted for a snippet from the jealous!Eddie fic, so here we go ✨

“I think I fucked it up somehow.” Buck admitted, trying his best to focus on Eddie's hand over his own, instead of the heavy feeling pulling his eyelids down again. “I pretty much doubt that.” Eddie shook his head kindly and Buck briefly wondered if he was only being so nice about it now, because he thought that Buck wasn't gonna make it. “I did…” Buck pressed quietly. “I must’ve… said something… he was weird after dinner.” “Weird how?” Eddie's voice started to sound a little distant and Buck suddenly thought that maybe he should hear other things too. The fire above or the walls creaking… something. He didn't hear any of it; only his own gargled breathing and Eddie's loud panting were close enough to penetrate his ears. There was a light sensation on his face and he opened his eyes. (When did he close his eyes? Oh, this wasn't good. Where was everyone?) “Hey, hey talk to me. You said he was being weird. Weird how?” Eddie brushed his fingers over Buck’s cheek and he wished, he wished so desperately that he could feel more than a ghost-touch over his numb skin. “I don’t… he was just. Distant, I guess.” Buck breathed, his upper lip sticking to his teeth with the soot and blood over it. “We kissed goodbye at the door and that was it. Didn't even wanna come in or anything…” There was a complicated expression on Eddie's face and Buck wondered if he should ask him to smile, just in case that was the last thing he was gonna see. “Maybe he just didn't wanna rush things. I’m sure he won't be like that the next time you go out.” Eddie reassured him quietly and if Buck could've moved, he would've probably shrugged. “We didn’t even set up another date.” “Don't worry. I’m sure you’ll have time to talk about that after we’ve got to the ER.” Eddie smiled at him fondly and Buck was probably delirious with blood loss, but he thought if there was one picture he could carry over to the afterlife he wanted it to be this one; Eddie with his lips pink and shiny with spit, stark against the dust covering him from head to toe, and smiling at him like he was the luckiest man on Earth, just because he got to be the one to hold Buck's hand while he was dying. Buck started chuckling at the thought, but it turned into a coughing fit. He vaguely registered the warmth of the blood trickling down his chin, leaving almost a pins and needles kind of sensation in its wake.

#buddie #911 #I know you wanted something where he's being super bitchy #but uhh what about some angst instead??#I'll give you the bitchy embarrassingly jealous Eddie the next time I promise 🙏#also how is this already over 10k??#the jealous eddie fic #wip

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owmyfangirlheart · 5 months ago

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Generation 1 Seth/Eden Summary Chapters 32-45

The one where they fall in love.

Long post, Mind the tags

Also written 8 years ago, I made myself angry with this one cause somethings don't make sense to me. I apologize in advanced.

Eden is at college when she starts getting texts from Seth, he had gotten a cell phone like he had promised. Eden and Seth keep in touch through out her time in college and his time in Egypt, often conversing during the night for Eden and early morning for Seth and telling each other about day. Cyndi is teasing Eden about how much she is talking to Seth, saying that she can tell Eden has a crush on Seth now. Eden denies it

Finals come and Eden passes, Eden makes plans to go back to Bridgeport and asks Seth he will be too. Seth tells her that he wont which disappoints Eden.

But back in Egypt Seth's mentor urges him to go back to Bridgeport and see his human. Seth tries to fight it but he goes anyways.

Eden arrives back home and she is greeted by her parents who tell her there's a surprise waiting for her inside, when she gets inside she sees Seth and is overjoyed and gives him a hug but things quickly turn awkward.

Eden escapes to her room to paint where Seth follows her and they talk about how much they had missed each other.

The next day comes and Eden goes to the beach with her family and Seth, where Seth is brooding most of the day. Eden talks to him and he tells her that he still has business in Egypt and he should be back there still, Eden feels bad and he assures her that he wants to be there with her. They watch the fireworks together that night. When Eden gets back home she admits to Cyndi that she does have a crush on Seth now.

Its a few days before Eden has to go back to Uni and Seth is packing his stuff saying he will be getting an apartment in Bridgeport for them both to go back to when they both return from the respective trips. The day comes when they have to leave each other again. They say their goodbyes but not before Seth says to Eden when she comes back he will too, and he will take her with him to Egypt next time.

Months pass once again. Eden and Seth have been talking every night. Finals are quickly approaching. The semester is almost over. Eden goes back to Bridgport after passing her finals and goes straight to the apartment that Seth had rented out for the both of them. They are over joyed to see each other and give each other a big hug. They spend most of the night cuddling on the couch while watching movies until Eden falls asleep.

The next morning they leave for Egypt, Eden is excited when they arrive and Seth leads them to the place they will be staying. Its a creepy house on the outskirts of town with Seth's mentor, Maya.

Maya calls Seth by his ancient Egyptian name which is Seti much to his annoyance.

Since it is afternoon when they arrive they spend most of their time talking to Maya and then in the evening they go swimming to cool off, where they share their first kiss in front of the pyramids and in the water.

Eden wakes up the next morning in his arms and they share a few kisses before they have to get up. Seth goes down stairs and Maya warns him that he shouldn't be getting so attached to Eden because unless he changes her he is putting her in danger of being found out by Jamie and the clan that they are alive and he hadn't changed her yet.

Seth is quiet during the tour of the town the rest of the day and Eden notices and is nervous. Wondering why he suddenly became so quiet.

She is dancing with the locals that night when Seth pulls her aside and apologizes for being quiet, explaining that Maya had said some things that scared him and he let it get to him. He then asks Eden to be his girlfriend officially and she happily says yes.

Maya later explains to Eden that the reason Seth has been spending so much time here is because he has been trying to figure out a way to keep Eden safe without changing her, so he went to her for help.

They explore the pyramids the next day where Seth brings Eden to his parents and his grave.

Once home later that night they are making out when they are interrupted by no one other than Leon.

Leon explains that he ran from Jamie and her clan once they found out that he had lied to her and knew that Seth and Eden were still alive. But he is here to warn Seth that he needs to change Eden or Leon will do it himself.

Seth and Eden have sex that night, and the next morning Seth prepares Eden her last human meal as he prepares to turn her into a vampire.

All four of them assemble in the living room and Seth bites Eden. It takes three days and on the third day she has finally turned into a vampire and its time for her first feeding.

Seth takes her to town to show her how to feed, and she feeds on a local man. He calls her a monster and Eden is hurt. Seth comforts her.

The end of their trip comes, and Eden returns back to Uni.

#ts3 #the sims 3 #Seth Chaytor #Eden Reaper #Maya I forgot her last name #Leon Sikes #Vampires #sim spice #they finally fall in love and kiss #Cyndi Wheeler #I feel like Im treating this like ao3 lol #which I am but ok oh well

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