#im so sorry to all the people scrolling on those three tags that have to see this

[pencil-n-pen]

TONGUES AND TEETH

₊˚ʚ 🌲₊˚✧ . °🍂 ೃ࿔*

jackson! joel miller x fem! loner! reader

masterlist | ko-fi

summary: Joel refuses to acknowledge the part of him that aches to be a protector. That is, until you come crashing into his life.

cw: canon-typical violence, reader had a rough go of things before Joel, nightmares, medical inaccuracies (oh the horror!) uhhh reader has a broken nose and it gets set, unspecified age gap, daddy issues but we all saw that coming and it’s vague, as an ellie lover and defender until the day i die, it pains me to say no ellie-au IM SORRY I COULDN’T MAKE IT WORK bella ramsey as ellie they could never make me hate you

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort as always, age gap, nightmare comfort, honestly just two messed up people loving each other

a/n: proof that i will find a way to write an eldest daughter fic for any fandom/universe

not officially writing for him !! just had this idea

another long(ish) fic. if you're here from my masterlist, now would be a good time to go pee, get some water, and maybe a snack or two :) same things for those of you scrolling. i see u

title taken from tongues and teeth by the crane wives (GO LISTEN TO THE CRANE WIVES !!)

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚🦴⋆｡°✩

Jackson living isn’t all Joel thought it would be cracked up to be.

Don’t get him wrong- objectively, it’s great. Running water, electricity, a clinic- three hallmarks Joel was sure he’d never see again. Not since the outbreak.

So by all means, he should be content. He goes out for hunting parties and patrols. Has his own house. Has a permanent place to keep his boots and his knives and guns and a bookshelf to make his way through. He has a bed. He has his brother.

But he’s restless.

Joel spent a long time walking. Searching. Surviving. You don’t quite slip back into easy civilian life just like that, no matter how perfect the conditions are.

At first, he solves this problem but going on more hunting parties, more patrols. He stays up late doing guard rotations and helps out his brother with projects when he can.

It doesn’t solve the itch, though. That sharp little thrumming, just beneath his skin: the need to protect. To have a job. To have something or someone to look after.

He denies this part of himself as much as he can, because he’s not that man anymore. Not after Sarah. He’s not. You don’t stay somebody dying to help and protect when you kill people. Because they’re still people, under the fungus. Under the parasite. Their brain’s still work. They still feel pain and anguish and fear.

He’s heard them cry before. Hunched over a corpse, body acting with somebody else at the reins, faces covered in blood and gore crying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

So Joel isn’t a protective guy anymore. Had to take out those parts. Replace them with solitary and meanness and a distinct lack of sympathy.

It’s turned him into an angry thing. Like a gaurd dog; snarling, circling an empty pedestal it refuses to acknowledge is there.

He knows Tommy see’s it. Try’s to involve him in things whenever he can, invites him over to dinner. Hangs out at his house. Makes sure Joel isn’t alone-alone.

So Joel really, really should’ve seen it coming when he and the scouting party find you in the woods.

You’re just as surprised to see them as they are to see you. They thought they were tracking a deer— although some of the tracks and patterns of disturbance in the underbrush didn’t add up.

They’d entered a clearing, guns poised, just to see you, handgun leveled at them, perched in a tree. Way higher up than Joel would’ve dared.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” You’d hissed, voice carrying on the wind and rattling just like the leaves on the tree you’re in. How you managed to scale a tree that high in a busted pair of Doc Martens and lugging a backpack clearly full of supplies is beyond him.

But he doesn’t need medical credentials to know you’ve clearly had a rough go of things.

You’re young. Not young-young, but young. Dressed in clothes clearly pilfered, you’re wearing a thick brown jacket that probably would’ve belonged to a construction worker or something like that. It’s a few sizes too big, and the cuffs are frayed and there’s a hastily sewn patch on the elbow he can see. Your face and hair is littered with tree and other plant debris- though if this is a new addition from your tree climbing escapade, he’s not sure. Your nose has dried blood crusted under it, your lip is split, and there’s a cut above your eyebrow. Your knuckles and hands are equally torn and split, old and new scars and scrapes littering your skin.

In short: you look rough. And feral, in that way that cats that live outside a little too long and a little too far away from people end up looking.

“I said stay back!”

He remembers, abruptly, that you’re probably scared out of your mind and the rest of the scouting team is still pointing their weapons at you.

He makes the motion for them to lower their weapons, and he lowers his own, raising both hands in the universal “we come in peace” gesture.

You don’t lower yours, but your grip on it is looser.

“We’re from the Jackson settlement,” He shouts, hoping you don’t hear the gruff anger in his voice that Tommy always complains he needs to work on. “There’s running water and electricity.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Your hands have begun to shake on the gun, ever so slightly. “So what’s your guys prerogative, huh? Cannablism? Religion? You planning on burning me at the stake? Or did you have something else in mind? I am a woman.”

Joel takes a step forward but stops when a bullet hits the ground right where his foot was about to be.

“If you take one more step you’re gonna find out exactly why I’ve survived alone this long.”

“Look,” He says, dropping his hands to his hips. “You can shoot us, and one of us will shoot you, and it’ll all be fine and dandy—“

There’s a chorus of whispers behind him.

“Or you can stay in that tree and not shoot us, and we won’t shoot you, and that’ll also be fine and dandy.”

He turns, jamming a finger in the direction of the settlement. “Jackson’s that way. Go or don’t go. I don’t really give a shit, but you look like you could use a bandaid.”

He jerks his head, and the rest of the party follows his lead, leaving the clearing —and you— behind.

—

A few hours after he returns, somewhere in the late evening when twilight is starting to set in and the crickets are chirping, Tommy knocks on his door.

“There’s a girl here for you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Someone asked for me?”

“Well, not so much as for you. Her words exactly were “that gruff, mean looking asshole,” but I got the picture.”

He sighs, deep in his bones. A small part of him —the part that’s still connected to that dog, still circling— had hoped you would show up. However, it’s hopelessly overshadowed by the sheer exasperation of it all.

He’s silent save for non-committal grunts and hmm’s the way over to the front gates where the evening rotation’s guards have you standing between them.

You’re slightly worse for wear since the last time he saw you in that tree. Your jacket as a new rip in it, and your nose is sluggishly bleeding again. Up close, he notices it’s a bit crooked.

Gonna hurt like a bitch to set, He thinks absentmindedly.

He slows as he approaches you, hands in his pockets and shoulders back.

“See?” He huffs, gesturing with one hand behind him. “Not cannibals. Or whatever else you’re worried about.”

Your face is hard set as you look around. “That remains to be seen.”

“Hello!”

Joel looks back to see a pregnant Maria waddling over, a concerned Tommy at her side.

“I told you I’d handle it—“

“And I told you I’m fine. Now,” She props her hands on her hips. “Who’s this young lady now?”

You (hesitantly) stick out a hand to shake and introduce yourself.

She shakes your hand with a smile. Leave it to Maria to be able to read people with such ease. “I’m Maria Miller. I’m one of the settlement councilors. The golden retriever fussing next to me is my husband, Tommy, and the angry looking bear next to him is his brother, Joel. I understand a scouting party found you?”

You nod, eyes flicking this way and that, cataloguing the area.

“I’ve been on my own for… awhile. I don’t have any supplies to offer, but I’m smart and strong. I’m willing to work in exchange for a place to stay.”

Maria hums, assessing. “I’m sure we can work something out. You’ll need to come with me to speak to the rest of the council, for our safety and yours.”

You tighten your grip on your backpack but follow Maria and Tommy, only sparing one backward glance at Joel.

He spends the rest of the evening trying to forget the look in your eyes.

—

He fails spectacularly.

This doesn’t mean, however, that he’s anywhere near pleased when his nightly reading-as-a-poor-attempt-at-normalcy routine is interrupted by a knock on the door. One that sounds suspiciously like Tommy’s type of knock.

Only he hears two voices as he walks up to the door, and the other one isn’t Maria.

Joel opens the door with a glare already fixed on his face.

“There have to be other places.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “It’s only temporary. The council agreed to let her stay so long as she’s watched by a trusted Jackson member, and well. You vouched for her.”

“And when exactly did I do that?”

“In the woods, when you met. You told her where you were from and how to get there. Honestly, Joel, you’re getting off light here. Some of the council members were not happy you told a random loner —no offense— where to find us. Kind of defeats the whole point.”

You huff a quiet “None taken.”

He can’t help the way his body tenses. “So this is a punishment?”

“Yes and no.”

“I don’t—“

“Look,” you interject, clearly fed up with the conversation. “It’s not the end of the world. I’m not going to murder you in your sleep and I don’t leave dirty clothes lying around. It’s only for three weeks. Get over it.”

Another sigh threatens to release itself, but he stamps it down, figuring he’s hit his sigh quota for the day.

“Fine. But take her down to medical first. I don’t want her blood all over my house.”

Tommy shrugs. “No-can-do. Maria needs me back at the house. You know where medical is. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

And with that, Tommy leaves, abandoning Joel and you at the doorstep.

Joel scrubs a hand down his face. “Wait there. I’ll grab a jacket.”

The walk to the clinic is awkward and silent, and just when Joel thinks it can’t get any worse, one of the staff tells him that since he’s your assigned supervisor/watcher/whatever, he has to accompany you. To everything.

To your credit, you don’t look very happy about the arrangement either.

Still, you bear through all the exams, a grimace fixed firmly on your face. Apparently (and not surprisingly) you’re malnourished, dehydrated, running a small fever, deficient in several vitamins, have two cracked ribs (most likely, no x-ray machine) and some run of the mill scraps and bruises.

You’re cagey enough on the details of the cracked ribs and nose that the doctor eventually moves on to the fixing you stage of things.

It takes awhile. There are a lot of injuries to cover.

When it comes to resetting your nose, the second the woman pulls out a needle and syringe, you go rigid.

“No.”

The doctor blinks. “This is just lidocaine, it’ll numb the area so—“

“No.”

“You wanna feel all that?” Joel asks, the first time he’s spoken during your entire exam, “It ain’t gonna feel great. Crooked nose like that won’t set with one go.”

“No needles. No numbing.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “What, you got a pain thing or something?”

Your hands go white-knuckled on the exam table. “Fuck. Off.”

You’re shaking, he notes.

Ah, He says to himself. Not a pain thing.

Fear.

The doctor shrugs. “Not like I won’t take the chance to save what we have. You’ll want something to bite down on. Or squeeze.”

You wrap your fingers around your own hand, a pathetic attempt at self-soothing.

He decides annoyance is the emotion he feels at your small movement. Nothing else.

He rolls his eyes as he grabs your hand, maneuvering it in place of your own.

“Good luck breaking it.”

You don’t respond. He wasn’t really expecting you to.

He knows without looking the exact moment the doctor starts resetting things because your grip on his hand quickly turns from barely there to crushing. You make no sound.

The doctor, to her credit, works fairly quickly, though by the time she’s finished a single tear has carved a path through the blood and grime on your face.

He thinks about how someone learns to cry without sound.

The doctor moves on quickly, cleaning and bandaging the wounds that need it and telling you detailed instructions for how to take care of your nose and cracked ribs and what things you should be eating to avoid staying vitamin deficient. It’s all a lot of words Joel is glad he doesn’t have to memorize.

They stick in his head anyway.

You don’t let go of his hand. You’re no longer squeezing the life out of it, but you’re not holding its gently either. When you do finally let go (after the doctor’s left and you can leave) you practically tear your hand away, as if burned. Like you’d left your hand on a stove as it was heating up only you just now noticed it was hot.

He doesn't say anything about it. He figures you're liable to literally bite his head off, or some other violent action close to that.

Besides. This is all awkward enough.

The walk back to the house is just as silent and strained as the walk to the clinic. Only now your breath is just a little more labored. Steps a little shakier. Your hand's twitch at your sides like they're reaching for something, and you don't quite manage to hide the way you look around every now and then, a restless, nervous action.

He knows what you're doing. He was you, back when he first got to Jackson. Granted, he wasn't as twitchy as you are. He kept his distance, stayed mean and scary (as possible.)

He holds the door open for you when you arrive back to the house, because his mom raised him to be a gentleman no matter the circumstances.

You toss him a look of confusion and annoyance but step into the house, looking around the modest living room with something almost like wonder.

He toes off his shoes, sets them by the door, and takes off his jacket, hanging it on the hook. "Shower before you touch anything. You're filthy. And don't think I'm giving up my bed."

"I wouldn't have taken it even if you had," You sneer. "Where's the--"

"Down the hall on the left. You got clean clothes?"

"...I have less dirty ones."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Wait here."

He grumbles all the way upstairs, all the way through picking out clothes that'll fit you well enough until you either wash what you have or find something else.

He silently glowers as he comes down the stairs, thrusting the clothes out to you and turning on his heel when you take them.

"I'm going to bed. Don't wake me up."

When he lies in bed that night, he can't even pretend he's not thinking about you. In his defense, it's less about you and more about the new, strange, stand-offish person he's just supposed to live with for the foreseeable future. All because he had the bad luck of feeling bad for the battered, flighty, loner girl sitting in a tree.

He stares at his ceiling, internal clock (yes, he's old, he has an internal clock. Sue him) letting him know it is decidedly an hour he should be asleep. He refuses to go downstairs, on principle alone. He could get up and go find one of his books, but he knows that if you're anything like him, coming off of however long you spent alone, you're a light sleeper. You're probably awake now, listening to him toss and turn and being unnerved by the unusual silence of Jackson and the particular brand of night-noise it produces. That's what the first two weeks of Joel's life in Jackson consisted of, before he moved in here.

Maria had decided that Joel would stay with the two of them until he integrated in Jackson society. Perks of your brother marrying a council member, he guesses.

So he's not going downstairs. Not going to walk down there just to see a person, an entire person in his house looking like, looking like--

Fuck.

He throws his blankets off and angrily (but not loudly) marches downstairs to get himself a glass of water and the book he knows he left on the table by the couch when he was so rudely interrupted by you. This is his house, dammit, he refuses to be put out by a random girl.

Woman, his brain corrects.

The living room is completely dark when he makes his way down the stairs and he truly, honestly wishes he was surprised when there's a whoosh of air to his right and a knife embeds itself in the wall about a half inch away from the side of his face.

The living room is still and silent.

"I thought they took your weapons when you got here."

"I lied about what I had."

He scrubs a hand down his face, yanks the knife out of the wall, and tosses it back. If you can throw it, you can dodge it.

He doesn't hear any screams, yelps, or grunts of pain, so he assumes you caught it fine. Or at least dodged it.

He makes his way over to the kitchen, grabs the teapot, and takes down two mugs.

"You know they can kick you out for harboring weapons during your probationary stay."

He hears a rustle of blankets behind him. The sound of you stashing your knife, no doubt.

"Are you going to tell them?"

He snorts, filling up the teapot. "No. There's been a knife in my boot since the day I got here."

He hears more rustling, and decides against turning around. He's not quite sure what you've been doing down here all night since it's clear that you weren't sleeping.

He doesn't hear any footsteps, but when does turn around to set the mugs on the table, you're sitting at it, knees pulled up and head resting atop them, your cheek smushed. Now that his eye's have adjusted to the darkness of the living room, he can almost make out your features. They're easier to discern, now that you're not covered in blood and grime. You look... softer. Haloed in the glow of moonlight shining through the gaps in the curtains.

Your face isn't the only thing glowing. The tell-tale glint of a knife --a different, smaller knife than the one you'd thrown at him-- shines from it's spot, resting oh-so innocently on the table.

Joel just huffs.

"No weapons on the table."

He blinks, and it's gone.

He doesn't ask why you're still awake or what you've been doing instead of sleeping. You don't ask why he's down in the kitchen at all.

"What are you making?"

"Tea."

He gently places a teabag in each mug. He isn't really sure why he's doing this for you. You've done nothing but hiss and spit since he's met you.

But tonight, right now, blanketed in the not-quite calm of the night and the apparent unease you both drown in--

It's tolerable. You're tolerable.

So he takes the kettle off the stove and pours the water and places the steaming mug on the table in front of you.

To which you ignore, and snatch the mug out of his hands instead.

"Did you think I put that one," He points to the mug in front of you, "There for giggles?"

You cradle the mug in your hands, seemingly entranced with the warmth and steam. "You might've poisoned mine."

"Maybe I poisoned both."

You take a sip, then grimace when the too-hot liquid hits your tongue.

"You don't look like the kind of person to have built an immunity to poison."

"You also watched me make both beverages."

"So? It's dark. You could've slipped something in. Or maybe it was already in the teabags."

"What use would I even have for you dead?"

You shrug. "I don't know. You tell me."

“You’re a deeply mistrusting person.”

“And you’re not?”

Touché.

Joel remains in the kitchen, leaned against a cabinet sipping your tea, while you stay hunched at the table, sipping yours.

If he removes the irritability and the uncomfortable-ness of everything that involves you living with him, the moment is almost… companionable. Pleasant, even.

It… soothes that nervous part of him. Not the sad nervous. The angry nervous. That built up crack of anger.

There’s another person in his home that is neither attempting to perceive his problems nor actively attempting to kill him. Your belief that he might poison you aside, you still accepted the tea.

He firmly believes that Tommy isn’t right about the loneliness thing though. His brother being right is just a world Joel can’t live in.

Besides. It’s too early to tell anything anyway.

—

Unfortunately, the following few days do not go… terribly.

That isn’t to say they go well, though. Since he’s looking after you (read: making sure you’re not an axe-murderer or something) he’s not allowed to go out on scouting or hunting trips. Or solo guard rotations he’s come to covet.

It’s boring, and having you around is strange.

It’s interesting, when he gets bored enough, because if he focuses hard enough he can guess what events happened to you based on your reactions to certain things. He’s pretty sure you were drugged at some point based on your reaction to the doctor with the lidocaine. You’re general skittish and flighty nature can be easily attributed to the conditions in which everyone in the world is living in, but your particular brand of distrust and aggression says that humans, not the infected, have been the ones to hurt you the most. Your general unease in open areas or areas with not easily accessible exits leads him to believe that there have been several extremely close calls in several points of your survival.

He knows you’ve been shot before, but that one was an accident. He’d come downstairs, rubbing bleary sleep from his eyes and accidentally stumbled across you changing. Well, finishing changing. He’d quickly closed his eyes and turned around, and thankfully you hadn’t startled, but he had caught a glimpse of the stretch of skin not covered by the long sleeve undershirt you favored. On the left side, just above your hip and a few inches towards your bellybutton, there’s a jagged, raised, circular scar. Still pink.

He knows you have a very slight, very subtle limp. He’s not sure what causes it, but he knows you have one. It tends to act up when you do a lot of strenuous exercise for an extended period of time. Some days you wake up and it’s worse. On those days, you’re a little more mean, and a little more skittish.

He’s yet to see you actually, legitimately sleep.

He’s starting to think you haven’t, since arriving.

Which is insane, because it’s been four days.

The bags under your eyes are horrific, even to him. You’ve gotten clumsier and clumsier, your attention span and memory are terrible, and he thinks you might’ve started hallucinating, if the times he’s seen you staring off into space with concerned, fearful, or twisted expressions on your face and mumbled rambles he can’t make out are anything to go by.

On day five, when Joel comes downstairs in the morning and the knife you throw at him bounces harmlessly off the wall and clatters to the ground and you just stare at it, eyes foggy and unseeing, he decides to talk to Maria.

“I don’t really care,” He says, because he has a reputation to uphold dammit, “But I’m not sure how much longer she’s gonna last, and what she’s gonna do when she wakes up.”

“Mmm,” Maria hums, hands clasped on the table and staring at Joel with her best ‘I don’t believe you don’t care’ look. She’s really perfected it, “Well the truth is, she can’t go forever. It’s fear keeping her up now. Happens a lot with the loners that come in. Especially the women. She’s afraid that no one’s there to watch her back and terrified she won’t be strong enough to fend off any attackers.”

Maria looks at her hands. “The fear is exacerbated by the fact that the council took most of her weapons.”

“You knew—“

“She was lying? Of course I did. So did several of the other members, I’m sure. But she’s not a threat. She’s scared.”

He thumbs the thin scar on his cheek from the knife came just a little too close to hitting the mark when he sneezed in the kitchen. “She’s got a funny way of being scared.”

“Fight or flight, Joel. She knows flight isn’t an option.”

“Why are you lobbying so hard in her defense?”

“I’m not. I’m explaining her actions. Also,” She gives a knowing smile, “You’ve started to care. Otherwise you wouldn’t be coming to me about this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He grouses. “So what am I supposed to do? Just wait for her to pass out?”

“You could. It’ll happen eventually. She very clearly doesn’t have that many hours left in her. That’s probably freaking her out more. Or, you could subtly show her that she can sleep around you. She needs to know that she’s safe from whatever it is she’s running from.”

Joel keeps his eyes locked on the kitchen table, tracing the grain in the wood with an absent-minded finger.

“I know you pushed for her to stay with me.”

“The council wanted a punishment that fit the crime.”

“Look, I appreciate the thought—“

Maria’s expression flattens. “Joel. Do not sit at my table and lie about how you don’t need anyone and you’re fine on your own. You need this.“

“I don’t need this,” He scoffs, “She’s practically half-feral. No one needs that.”

Maria stands, shrugging. “Then I guess you’ll have to file for a name change, No-One Miller. Until then, make sure she’s not alone when she wakes up.”

—

He did leave you alone for the duration of his conversation with Maria, because fuck if he was bringing you to that, and he figured you both could use some time away from each other. He knows he can.

He’s not very surprised to hear the familar whoosh of a small, sharp object sailing through the air that tends to accompany his arrival into rooms you’re occupying (he’s pretty sure it stopped being a fear response after the first two times and now you’re just messing with him) but he is suprised to see that this time, the knife doesn’t even make it head height. Or to the wall.

It clatters uselessly to the ground near his feet. He stares at the metal between his boots and then up at you—

“Why are you sitting on the kitchen counter?”

“I don’t remember.”

He leaves the knife on the ground and makes his way over to you, watching with mock disinterest at the several-seconds-delayed flinch you make when he stands in front of you.

You look up at him, eyes glassy and unfocused and you just look so, so tired.

There’s a curl of protectiveness in his chest that keeps trying to spread, keeps trying to grow. Here, in the kitchen, your legs dangling over the edge of the counter, bathed in the glow of the mid-day sun, it takes root. Right in the center.

He looks down at your feet. “What happened to your other shoe?”

You scrunch up your face. “I don’t… I was getting in bed, I think. But it wasn’t my bed. I forgot that things aren’t—“

That things aren’t the same anymore.

He crouches down, untying the laces of your boot and shucking it aside somewhere.

“Alright, come on.”

You slide off the counter, clumsy and uncoordinated. He takes your hand in his, leads you up to the bedroom.

The stairs are difficult for your tired, barely working brain. He has to stop multiple times to physically lift your legs or stop you from falling over and cracking your head open.

You finally make it up there, though, and he realizes that you probably won’t want to sleep in your everyday clothes.

“One last step.”

He can’t help but notice how intimate the moment is. Not intimate-intimate, but. He instructs you softly to lift your arms so he can tug your shirt over your head and replaces it with a soft shirt of his own.

Staring into your eyes is too charged and allowing his eyes to wander is bad for obvious reasons, so he keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the junction of where your neck meets your shoulder.

He keeps his eyes there as he helps you out of your pants and into a pair of flannel pajama pants. The same ones he’d given you the first night you came. You’ve never slept and he’s never seen you go to any of the places he knows have extra clothes, so he’s almost positive you don’t have any pajamas at all.

His fingers work quickly to tie the drawstring on the pants, and even then, they hang low on your hips.

He doesn’t let his eyes linger.

“Come on,” He says taking your arm and tugging you toward the bed. “Time for sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the day,” You mumble, standing in place. “And I can’t, what if they—“

“I’ll be here the whole time. I’ll keep watch.”

You mull his words over in your head for a few moments before stumbling the final few steps into the bed. You practically collapse into it, shuffling for a just few seconds before your breath evens out.

You’re asleep.

He reaches over, adjusting the blankets a bit, before grabbing the book he’d left on the bedside table and settling down in the chair by the bed.

The hours tick by quietly, accompanied only by the quiet rustling of pages turning and your soft snores.

For the first time in awhile, he doesn’t feel restless.

—

You sleep for a full eighteen hours straight before you stir.

He’s a good portion of the way through his book before he see’s your body tense in the corner of his eye. Your breathes are still even and deep, so if he couldn’t see you, he probably wouldn’t notice you’re awake.

“You’ve been asleep for eighteen hours,” He says, voice rough and scratchy with disuse, “You got in bed voluntarily.”

“You changed my clothes.”

“You didn’t seem all that capable of doing so yourself and I didn’t think you wanted to sleep in jeans. You mind?”

“…No.”

“Good. Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t just—“

“You didn’t sleep for five days. If we’re going by the eight hours a night average needed or whatever, that’s forty hours. You’ve still got twenty-two left to catch up on.”

You roll over to face him with a grumble. “I don’t like how good you are at mental math.”

“Get better, then.”

You shimmy out from under the blankets, tossing him an “I have to pee,” as you make your way out of the room.

It’s early morning now, weak sunlight behind to strain its way through the curtains. He figures it’s a good enough time to make some food (and coffee) if you’re going to be going to back sleep, so he meanders down to the kitchen and throws together a small breakfast.

“Did you make us breakfast?”

He never really gets used to how quietly you move through rooms.

“Jesus— yes. Here.”

He hands you a bowl with oatmeal and a small plate with a slice of toast— toasted in a pan, because electricity aside, he doesn’t own a toaster. Why waste time scavenging for an appliance when something else works just as fine?

He sets a jar of jam on the counter that he’d picked up awhile ago in exchange for fixing the hinge on somebody’s door.

“You got any allergies?”

“None that matter.”

He nods to the table. “Go eat. Then get back in bed.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“And you’re annoying. Eat.”

You eat quickly and quietly, then wordlessly follow him back upstairs, climbing back into bed.

“Joel?” You whisper.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He tucks the blanket up over your shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

You obey easily.

—

Things between the two of you… soften after that. He slowly sees more pieces of your personality than the wild thing he met that day in the woods.

He learns that you love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but miss peanut butter and nutella sandwiches more than anything. He learns that on good days, you like drinking coffee straight black, but on bad days, you like it with milk and sugar.

He learns that your limp is the result of one careless mistake you’d made when you first surviving on your own.

“I thought the house was abandoned. It wasn’t,” You’d rolled up your pant leg to show horrific, deep, jagged scars circling your ankle, “Guy had set out a bear trap to slow down some of the clickers in the area. It was dark. Didn’t notice it until too late.”

He learns that you, despite your snide remarks and sarcastic comments, like having him around. He feels a bit like earning the trust of a stray cat.

You begin to grow more comfortable with life in Jackson, though not by much. He’s sure you weren’t a people person before the outbreak, much less so now that he knows some of the horrors you’ve been through before you got here.

He’s even started getting used to how quietly you move.

It’s easy to fall into a rhythm, from there.

He wakes up, goes downstairs. Sometime’s there’s a knife thrown at him, sometimes there isn’t. You’re usually sprawled on the couch, drool coming out of your mouth and grumbling incoherently about “old men and their stupid early mornings.”

It’s almost endearing.

Since Joel spends a lot of time helping Maria and Tommy get ready for their baby, you, in turn, get to know the both of them by being stuck with Joel. Maria set you on edge at first, Tommy slightly less so, but through continuous interactions your prickly nature smoothed.

One night, you were all seated on their couch after enjoying a dinner together —not the first and definitely not the last— having quiet conversation. You’re totally passed out on Joel’s shoulder, dead-asleep and quite content to use him as a human teddy bear.

Maria smiles over her mug of tea. “She’s grown on you.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. She’s not all bad.”

“High praise coming from Joel Miller.”

You have grown on him. And in turn, your relationship has started to grow into… something else. Sometimes his eyes linger just a little too long, and the looks you share feel just a little too charged.

Tommy sends him a look full of words only true siblings can understand.

“No, Tommy.”

“Oh come on Joel! You both clearly—“

“We are not having this conversation right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because—“

You fling an arm out wildly, smacking him in the side of his face and grasping around until your pointer finger finally finds his lips.

“Shhhh. M’ sleeping.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist, prying your fingers off his face. “You know that’s what bed’s are for. Or couches. Or any number of surfaces I’ve found you sleeping on.”

“You’re a surface I’m sleeping on.”

“I shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a bed. Come on, up and at em’.”

You whine at the loss of warmth when he stands, scowling as you haul yourself to your feet. As he’s putting on his boots by the door, he hears you thanking Maria and Tommy for their hospitality, and he can’t help the little smile that twitches on his face. Seems like his parents weren’t the only ones who made sure he had manners.

You meet him at the door, hopping in place to put your boots on and getting frustrated when they don’t slide on immediately.

“You know, it would help if you untied the laces—“

“Fuck off.”

He blinks. That seems a little more mean than you usually say nowadays.

So Joel takes a step back. Watch’s your legs and your shoes and your hands—

There.

Your hands shake as you fumble with the laces, unable to get a good grip on the thin cords to untie and re-tie your shoes.

He shoos your hands away from the singular boot you haven’t managed to get on.

“Sit.”

He’s thankful that he built the shoe bench for Maria a few weeks after he got to Jackson. It serves Maria well for not having to stand while she attempts to put her shoes on while heavily pregnant, a feat she bemoaned a few times, and now it’s serving you.

You plop down on the bench with a huff, crossing your arms as Joel crouches, undoing the laces of your boot and sliding it on.

“I can do it.”

“I know you can.”

“Why’re you doing it?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He secures the tie on one boot and moves on to the next. “It is tonight.”

Once both shoes are on, you both bid Tommy and Maria good night, and make your way home.

If your hand find’s Joel’s, then that’s not anyone’s business.

—

He notices things after that.

You’ve started snapping at him more often. You’re not sleeping as much. You’ve started flat out refusing to go with him on daily chores as tasks, which either leads to an argument or the both of you staying at home all day.

It all comes to a head when you wake up screaming.

He thunders down the stairs, ducking on instinct for a knife that doesn’t come. You’re not on the couch. He whips his head around, the screaming stopped he can’t find you—

A thud. A panicked gasp.

He moves on slow, apprehensive feet towards the kitchen, crouching down to see you huddled under the table, knife clenched in your hand and pointed toward him.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

Your eyes are wide and shining with tears.

“You died.”

“I didn’t. I’m right here.”

You shake your head, breaths coming short and shallow.

He settles on the floor, crossing his legs. “Here, take my hand. Come on.”

He extends his hand into the space between you two. Achingly slowly, you put down the knife, and take his hand in yours.

“See? I’m still here.”

Eventually, your breathing slows, and the fear begins to leave your eyes. You drop his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“No, no it’s just—“ You break off with a strangled noise.

He waits. Lets a few minutes tick by.

“Does this have anything to do with the fact you’ve been avoidin’ me?”

You look down. “You noticed?”

“I do have eyes, sweetheart.”

You grab the knife again, twisting it this way and that in your hands.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

He tilts his head. “How come?”

You’re silent for a little while again.

“I feel… okay with you.”

“And that’s scary?”

“Yes,” You breathe, “You could leave, or die, and it scares me that I’m already attached to you. That having nightmare’s of you dying affects me so much. That they happen at all.”

He hums. “Seem’s were at an impasse.”

He taps a finger on his knee.

“It’s not all bad. To care.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Joel Miller?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “You know, against my better judgment, I’ve come to tolerate having you around.”

“Tolerate?”

“Mhm.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“So you’ve never thought about kissing me?”

Heat rushes to his face. “Is that really a question you want to be asking right now?”

“Yes.”

“Mm,” He stands, “Well I don’t answer that kind of question at this hour. Come on.”

He reaches under the table and pulls you out.

You clamber to your feet, still a little shaky after your nightmare.

You turn to go back to the couch, but stops when he tugs on your arm.

“Mm-mm. No couch tonight.”

You look up at him, a question in your eyes he doesn’t know how to answer with words.

He steps forward, rough hands coming up to your face, thumb swiping the crest of your cheek.

“Tell me to stop.”

“I won’t.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss, soft and slow.

He pulls away after a few moments, searching your face for any sign of negativity or displeasure or disgust or, or—

You surge up, kissing him again, all the same fiery passion he saw the day you met.

“I suppose that answers my question.”

He chuckles. “You think?”

“I hope so.”

His hands slide down to your waist. and he can’t resist the little squeeze he gives the skin there.

“Alright. Back to bed, let’s go.”

“I forgot how tired old men get.”

“Please don’t call me an old man right after we kiss.”

He can hear your quiet snorting laughter as you climb the stairs, socked feet silent as always.

You climb into bed first, shoving yourself into the side by the wall and then making grabby motions for Joel.

“Am I just a pillow to you?”

“Yes. Come be a pillow.”

He rolls his eyes but slips into bed next to you and quietly relishes in the pleased hum you let out as you wrap your arms around his waist, practically smashing your face into his chest.

“You comfortable there?”

“Mhm.”

He curls one arm around you, his other hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. This close, he feels the shudder run through your body at the motion, and curious, he gives your nape a little squeeze.

Your reaction is instantaneous. You go limp- completely boneless.

“I got you, I got you. Go to sleep, now.”

It doesn’t take you long. And with you asleep so soundly in his arms, he follows right behind you.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

[onion-makes-stimboards]

sorry if this is a dumb question but how do you actually make a stimboard? i found a lot of cute gifs i wanted to use but idk how i can actually put them in a post with the right formatting n everything. can you do it on mobile? i never use tumblr on my pc but i guess i csn if i have to

you don't have to answer this if you don't want to, i just didn't know who i should ask

Hi!! Here’s a tutorial for how I make my Stimboards, and I do all of this on mobile so it might be different on different on different devices.

I’ll use this request I got for a Raine X Eda from The Owl House Stimboard as an example, this is how to do a character or ship Stimboard.

Step One: Get the image

Get the image of the character/ship you want to make a Stimboard out of. You can use Google Images for this, but if the request is for an obscure character or ship you might have to screenshot it directly from the source.

You will want to take note of the colours or themes of said characters. If the character has teal hair, like Raine, you will want to add some teal into the board. If a character uses knives a lot, like Pillow from BFDI, you will want to add some knives. Make sure to add trigger warnings for those, though.

Sometimes requests will suggest certain themes, make sure to add those if requested.

Step Two: Search for gifs

Get your first gif. If you are crediting your gifs, you have to add them one at a time. Here’s how I do it:

First, search what you want into Tumblr. You can do this with anything, colours, textures, fidgets, etc., you just have to add ‘stim’ at the end.

‘Fursuit paw stim’

‘Red stim’

‘Blue and white stim’

‘Snow globe stim’

‘Pastel stim’

The more broad you make your search, the more posts will come up, but you do want to find the right type of colours for your board. I would recommend searching ‘fursuit paw stim’ instead of ‘orange fursuit paw stim’ becuase most people don’t tag their stimboards that way.

Here’s my first search for my Raine X Eda board. Since this is a ship board, I’ll need more than one type of stim, but im starting with this one.

Step Three: Add gifs

Scroll though posts until you find the gif you want.

I selected this one.

On mobile, you can save a gif to your photos by pressing and holding in the image until the ‘save to photos’ button appears.

Then you’ll want to copy the link to the post by pressing on the three dots in the corner and selecting ‘copy link’

Afterwards, don’t save another image yet. Go to the ask and add the image, copy-pasting the link in as an embed.

You do this by selecting some text or an emoji, and pressing this link button in the corner, then pasting in the link and pressing ‘add link’

Now you have one gif and one link. But this isn’t your entire post, so you’ll want to save this as a draft. Here’s how you do that:

Then press ‘save draft’ and go back into the search tab to repeat the process until you have enough gifs!

Step Four: Formatting

On mobile, you can drag and drop images and gifs into place. There’s three images allowed in one row, which is good because that’s how most Stimboards are formatted. You’ll want the image of the character to be in the centre, and make sure the credits match to where the gifs are placed. A typical Stimboard is nine images, eight gifs around one image, which works perfectly because Tumblr for mobile allows no more than ten images per post.

Step Five: Finished!

Congratulations: you’re done! Make sure to add tags to your post, including the stims in said post. Also, tag trigger warnings so people with that tag blocked can see before they see the post. Now post that beautiful board into the world, you did a great job!

[hecateisalesbian]

I’m still alive :/

yeah so uh @bloodied-dagger has a few things wrong about this story (my fault) so I’m gonna clear some stuff up.

After Dagger’s trip to Cali I noticed he was kinda online a little/lot less and I was wondering what was up, but I didn’t wanna so directly upfront say it, so I did send an anon ask saying “why are you so busy?” I should’ve worded it better because it does sound rude but I didn’t mean it like that. So anyway I sent him that and he responded and he was upset and I felt HELLA guilty for that for one, and I kinda forgot he had a 4th of July party that night because I have really crappy memory.

So I saw I was in the tags and I felt really bad but I didn’t want him to be mad at me because im really freaking bad with emotions and people being mad and whatever I have trauma and stuff not the point. I ended up sending another ask saying smth like “why’d u drag me into the tags” (as to sorta lighten the mood) “also I’m sure anon was just asking about cali.” So anyways he responded privately except by that time I was already asleep cuz I was tired from fireworks and night swimming.

So anyways I wake up at like 5 in the morning and read the response and I’m still really groggy so this sends a panic through me when I see he’s really mad and 100% called me out on my bullcrap (deserved) and in classic me fashion I get super freaked and have a panic attack and I deleted the reply cuz If I didn’t I would’ve read it over and over again and yeah. And I tend to do this bad overthinking thing where I assume one bad thing happens between me a friend and they hate me forever and never wanna talk to me again. So I go to my followers/mutuals list and I’m scrolling and I don’t see dagger on there so I’m like “oh crap he hates me he doesn’t even wanna be mutuals anymore”. Yeah. So I unfollowed him cuz I cut myself off from people, especially when they don’t wanna be friends anymore.

The rest of the day I stay away from tumblr and don’t check it until a few hours ago when I decided I’d kinda update my blog on how I wouldn’t be posting and vented a little by going “crap crap crap” etc.

Little context behind this, I actually was planning to update my blog because next week I have this super big thing which will most likely take up most of my day during the week for the next three weeks. But since I thought everyone would hate me I had to be dramatic and make it seem like I was leaving forever. Anyways I come back and I see dagger tagged me and whatever. And hes feeling bad too Ig and so that made me feel even more guilty (and he even remembered I love atsv) so I was like “alright I need to make a post about this.”

And now here we are. So. Yeah. I’m sorry if you hate me now Dagger. I followed you again but if you don’t want me to I understand. I just thought I’d put my input too. I feel really bad and I didn’t know how upset those asks would make you. And I’m sorry to all my mutuals for worrying them. I really hope you don’t see me as a bad person but I understand if you do. Yeah. I’m sorry.

[mindrole]

Yo, I somewhat lurk your blog because you make very fun and interesting posts!! Your takes are nice to read and your art is very nice; I simply avoid to reblog because I had this...vibe? I guess? That you wanted your posts to remain a little more hidden away.

That doesn't change the fact that I surely can't be the only one who lurks but certainly loves your work!!!

first of all, thank you for the kind words!!

tbh i kind of just rattled the post off and went to do stuff so i forgot about it, i didn't expect a response, so im super flattered!! (and a little embarassed, perhaps bashful)

its quite kind of you to send this...

the issue of reblogs: i dont mind at all!! as you may have noticed there are two or three posts i have locked reblogs for.. those are obviously NG (mostly either "my interpretation changed drastically so im disowning it" or "ill go back and fix it (<-art)") but everything else is A-OK ❤️ if i don't want something to be reblogged i will lock it. (usually i will leave in the tags or edit the post with the reason)

i love when my stuff is shared around!! and getting nice nonnies like you is always a lot of fun. to be honest i think because those dried up for a while i got a stir crazy

really i'm like, a very sociable person, i like to bounce ideas off of others even if its indirect and even i get really neurotic about stuff. so i read every tag and interaction with a big goofy smile on my face. i like feeling seen, and most people would not disagree that it's nice. so it's like this... i am... a huge geek

i want to be less sheepish about posting in the main tag too. the initial bad experience i had (and caused myself, i don't wanna deny that) can't really be helped anymore, but eventually i wanna be brave about it. i wanna shake off the weird mindset of "i've already ruined my shot so i should stop posting in the tag, everyone probably already has a big ❌️ on me anyway." (if someone doesn't want to see my stuff they probably already have me blocked... so its fine!!! or they can just scroll past. im not taking up any space i shouldn't. i have to learn this!!!)

there are a lot of things i don't tag because either i'm afraid my sense of humor is too esoteric and/or mean spirited or because it is a junk doodle (not in a self deprecating way, its just not something i wanna put in the tag). also cuz i post a lot, it is kind of spam-y. recently i got an ask asking why i hate httr... of course i don't!!! but i love making fun of that baby man so much. so im also wary of maybe, i might upset someone without that context and they think i'm openly posting character hate. that kind of thing, i worry TOO much

(don't worry, that ask was really funny, even if it scrambled my brain a bit)

i think a lot of people who might enjoy the blog also may bounce after reading my pinned and seeing that i don't tag spoilers. that's ok, i hope someone translates the interlude soon because somehow even in its short duration i love it a lot. com is coming out soon too!!! eventually the stock of those characters will rise and they will gain more fans and they will come across my blog and go, woah, this crazy person drew so much art prerelease!!!!. azuma's stock... will also rise!!!

at the end of the day my philosophy is that fan works are things we share out of love and passion, loving the works of others and making are like a symbiotic relationship, one cannot exist without the other. seeing other people's stuff makes me wanna make too. that kind of thing. this applies to both fan work and original work actually.

sorry you got subjected to my mentally ill ramble... im really thankful to have gotten this ask genuinely.. it super made my day

i hope you continue to enjoy the blog ^^

[spencereliotwinchester]

Red Stud (Part 1/3)

Title: Red Stud

Author:  Kat

Reader Gender:  N/A

Word Count: 8700

Summary: A look at how Jensen met Misha and began their journey. Partner to Submissive but can be read by itself. 

Warnings: AU, Sub!Jensen, Dom!Misha, Humiliation!Kink, 

A/N:  Seriously, not for the faint of heart. No hate. Inspiration belongs to @impala-dreamer

Thank you to @deansbxtch for being my beta

Character: Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins

--

Tags: 

@dr-dean @drarina1737 @zombitch-cas @teamfreewill92 @winecatsandpizza @bees0are0awesome @sierra-grace1227 @chenshemesh1 @weepinghollywoodatsupernatural @im-in-every-fandom-fangirl @rosescarlett @pandazombie69

--

“What are you doing this weekend, Jensen?” Jared asked as they walked to their ten a.m. biology class. 

“Nothing. Maybe doing that ‘American Ideals’ paper for the capstone class,” Jensen responded, heaving his backpack into a more comfortable position. “Why did we take half our classes on Friday?” 

“To have Mondays and Tuesdays off,” Jared laughed. “Anyway, there’s a rave happening at this club I know of. Wanna go?” 

“A rave? Like, an actual rave, not a house party?” 

“Yeah! They have strippers until Midnight, then it turns into a Rave. It goes until the morning I’ve heard. They also have some BDSM rooms, supposedly, but you have to be a member to go in there.”

“What’s the cover?” Jensen asked. 

“Fifty,” Jared said. 

“That’s cheap for Vegas.”

“That’s the whole point! Anyway, what do you think?” 

“As long as you don’t kidnap me into a BDSM room, I’m fine,” Jensen joked. 

“Ugh,” Jensen groaned. The taste in his mouth made his stomach turn over. It was like something had crawled in there and died. He sat up, careful to extract himself from the unknown man in his bed. His ass still had a dull throb from the previous night. 

Slowly getting out of his bed, careful not to wake up his partner from last night, Jensen made his way to the bathroom of the apartment he shared with Jared. He could hear the sounds of throwing up from inside. 

“Jare, I’m coming in to brush my teeth!” He hollered, opening the door. 

Jared wasn’t the one in the bathroom. A brunette was heaving over the toilet. 

“Oh, shit, sorry!” He said. She looked over at him. 

“You’re naked,” She stated. 

“Sorry,” he said again, and shut the door. 

The door to the apartment opened and Jared came down the hall with a drink holder of coffee. He handed one coffee to Jensen, who took it with a word of thanks and took a drink. 

“Still throwing up?” He asked, nodding to the bathroom. 

“Uh, yeah,” Jensen responded. “I’m gonna go put on pants.” 

As he pulled on a pair of soft sweatpants, the man still in Jensen’s bed stretched and then sat up. Jensen handed him his coffee. The man took a deep drink and handed it back. 

“Thanks,” he said, getting up and stretching again. “What a party, eh?”

“Wild,” Jensen agreed. The man’s deep voice and electric blue eyes brought a memory of last night to Jensen’s mind. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard. I’ll bet that’s all you want, filthy slut!”

“Yes, Sir! Please fuck me!”

“Oh, fuck, it’s nearly three!” 

He stood up and quickly dressed, gathering the pieces of clothing that had been tossed into various parts of the room. 

“Got any cologne I can borrow?” He asked. 

“Yeah, on the dresser,” Jensen responded, watching the man get dressed. When the man came up to him, Jensen realized he was nearly as tall as he was, with dark, disheveled hair, and those electric blue eyes that made Jensen feel as though he could see right through him. 

“Thanks for last night,” He whispered, Jensen smirked and they kissed.

“See ya around,” Jensen said when they broke apart, though he knew he wouldn’t. 

“That party was insane,” Jared said as they sat down on the couch in the small living room. 

“I don’t remember much,” Jensen grunted.

“You’ll get some pieces back like usual.” 

“Did we… Take anything?” He asked. 

“Besides a shit load of alcohol? I don’t think so,” Jared responded absently, scrolling on his phone. “Why?” 

“Just wondering.”

“We gotta do that again,” Jared sighed, happily. 

“I won’t,” a female voice said. The girl had come around the corner, purse in her hand. “Sorry for spewing my guts out.” 

“You okay?” Jared asked. 

“Yeah. I’m gonna go,” She turned to Jensen. “You should get on a pole more often.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You don’t remember?” She asked, then continued. “You got up on stage and swung yourself around the pole like you’d been doing it for years.” 

“I did what?” He asked, incredulous. Jared snickered. 

“It was pretty awesome,” Jared muttered.

“Shut the hell up!”

A few days later, he got a text from an unknown number. He was studying in the library. 

I can’t stop thinking about you stretched around my cock, those green eyes rolling up into your head.

He looked around, worried, but no one was nearby. 

Who is this? 

It could be any of his one night stands from the last few weeks.

I’m offended, we had such a good time the other night! - Sir M

It must be that blue eyed man he met at Frenzy. What did he say his name was? It had been something strange. Another message came through. 

You were such a good slut for me. I’d love to have you for myself. - Sir M

Jensen blushed to himself. He didn’t usually sleep with the same person twice. He thought briefly about making an exception. It had been an amazing night. Most of the pieces of the night had come back. The blue eyed stranger had dominated over him, easily taking complete control of their time together. Jensen had thoroughly enjoyed it. As the memories floated to the forefront of his mind, Jensen could feel that his cock was hardening. Another message. 

I’ll bet you’re so hot and bothered right now, thinking about the way I owned you. - Sir M

Jensen finally texted back.

Yes, Sir.  

It became tradition, each month Jensen and Jared would go to a Rave night at Frenzy. They would stay until the place shut down at 5 a.m. and then crash until late afternoon. Sometimes they brought dates home, sometimes not. Sir M and Jensen continued to message each other. Sir M could be very domineering, even over a simple text and it sent thrills of excitement through Jensen’s body.

About a week after his one night stand with Sir M, Jensen walked into the studio shyly, it was his first time here. He’d been curious about pole dancing ever since that girl had told him how well he’d done. 

“Shoes off please!” The teacher, Jaz, behind the desk said sharply. “No outside shoes on the studio floor. Please sign this waiver and set your yoga mat down next to one of the poles.” 

Jensen ended up loving pole dancing, going to class three times a week in between his college classes and working a part time job. One day after class, about six months later, Jaz called his name as he was walking out the door. 

“Yeah?” He said, walking over to her, his bag slung over his shoulder and a yoga mat in his hands. 

“You’re still pretty new, but I know you like to go to Frenzy every so often. They get a lot of their talent from this studio and they’re holding closed auditions for a new male act. I was wondering if you wanted to audition? You’re one of my only male students and I think I have just the song for you.” 

Jensen stood there for a moment, his mouth hanging open. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” He said eventually, “I mainly do this for fun-”

“Strippers there, especially males, make upwards of $500 a night.” 

That was more than Jensen was making now, way more. He thought for a few moments, then relented. 

“Let me know what to do.” 

Three Saturdays in a row, he practiced one on one for three hours with Jaz. On the fourth Saturday, they ran through the entire routine twice. Jensen was sore, tired, and out of breath. 

“You’re ready,” Jaz said excitedly. “I think you’ll take the job easy.” 

“You… Sure?” Jensen said between gulps of air. 

“I’m damn sure. You’ll knock ‘em dead this afternoon!” She gave Jensen a quick hug and began to ready the studio for her next class. “Make sure you drink plenty of water-”

“And eat plenty of protein,” Jensen finished, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “I know.” 

That afternoon, Jensen arrived outside Frenzy at 1:30. Auditions started at 2. He showed his paperwork to the bouncer at the door and was let in. The place was a little unnerving when it was mostly empty and the lights were all on. He made his way towards the Rave Hall and saw a check-in table. He walked up to the two women. One looked up as he approached.

“Here for an interview for the bouncer positions?” She asked. 

“Uh.. no,” he said, caught slightly off guard. “I have an audition for pole dancing.” 

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Sorry! Um, name?” 

“Ackles,” He said. 

“Got it. Locker rooms are that way,” She pointed. “Follow the signs. They’re still doing female auditions, so they may be running slightly late. Do you have a song?” 

“Yeah,” he handed over a CD with his name and audition number on it, then made his way to the locker rooms. 

As he got dressed, his nerves started to send butterflies to his stomach. He pulled on a pair of tight black cycling shorts and a plain black t-shirt. He had decided to go barefoot for this audition. From the information he had received, there would be a panel of judges and they would ask him a few questions before he danced. Jensen noticed as he waited for his name to be called that most people were doing slow and sensual songs, sometimes even emo. This made him slightly more nervous since Jaz had chosen a fast song for him. 

“Next up is Ackles! Ackles to the stage!” 

Jensen took a deep breath and then stepped out of the curtain onto the stage. He stood next to the pole and blanched slightly. It seemed like most of the auditioners were staying in the room after they’d auditioned to see the rest of the performers. Jensen only saw three other men in the audience. Then he looked at the panel of judges. Two men and a woman sat there. 

The man in the middle had electric blue eyes. Electric blue eyes that made Jensen feel as though he could see right through him. Electric blue eyes that Jensen recognized. Sir M. It knocked the breath clean out of him. 

“You used your real name?” The bearded man asked, rolling his eyes. “What’s your stage name?” 

“I..I don’t have one,” Jensen stuttered, shrugging. 

“Oh boy,” he said in annoyance. “Any tattoo-”

“Red Stud,” the blue eyed man interrupted. 

“What?” the bearded man snapped. “Collins, are you in-”

“No, I’m just giving him a stage name. Red hair and just look at those muscles! Yummy.” 

“Red Stud, I guess it works,” The man turned back to Jensen. “Tattoos?” 

“N-No,” Jensen sputtered, he started to think this had been a mistake. He grabbed the pole, noticing it was on spin. He could do the routine either way, but doing it on spin was harder. 

“Why do you want this job?” The woman asked, speaking for the first time. 

“I love to dance,” Jensen said smoothly, he was aware his voice had become more even and slightly huskier. “I can dance, and I want to make money doing what I love.” 

“Well, I think we’d love to see!” Sir M clapped his hands together. “Go on.”  

I saw him dancin' there by the record machine

I knew he must a been about seventeen

The beat was goin' strong

Playin' my favorite song

And I could tell it wouldn't be long

'Til he was with me, yeah, me

And I could tell it wouldn't be long

'Til he was with me, yeah, me, singin'

As soon as the music started,  Jensen felt right at home. As if he were back in the studio practicing with Jaz. The loud guitar strums and drum set blasted through the speakers and Jensen opened “I Love Rock N’ Roll” by flexing his biceps, rolling his hips, and showing off his muscles, visible even under the t-shirt, to the various parts of the room. People started clapping along with the beat. When the lyrics started, he climbed the pole to the top, stopping at the end of each line to do various hangs to show off his strength, flowing with the hard rock. 

I love rock n' roll

So put another dime in the jukebox, baby

I love rock n' roll

So come and take your time and dance with me

Ow

Once he reached the top of the pole, the chorus started and Jensen folded over and around the pole, holding an attitude position before quickly hip-switching to a sundial. He pulled up and inverted into a Fang, spinning quickly with the music before doing a cartwheel dismount. 

He smiled, so I got up and asked for his name

"That don't matter", he said, "'cause it's all the same"

I said, "Can I take you home where we can be alone?"

And next we were movin' on

He was with me, yeah, me

Next we were movin' on

He was with me, yeah, me singin'

He pole walked once, before unveiling his next climb. Jaz had spent the majority of their first session teaching him this complex no legs, hand-over-hand climb until Jensen could do it perfectly without falling. Jensen was surprised to hear cheers. He climbed, doing a pull up at the end of each line of music until he was at the top of the pole again. He quickly maneuvered into a cross-legged sit so his arms were free.

I love rock n' roll

So put another dime in the jukebox, baby

I love rock n' roll

So come and take your time and dance with me

Ow

Jensen tore his shirt in half splitting it down his chest, then took it off and flung it at the blue eyed judge. He then inverted into a crucifix and nose dived down the pole. Jensen gracefully dismounted as the music faded. He took a bow to the cheering audience before turning his attention towards the judges. Jensen became all too aware of the sheen of sweat covering his face and chest and felt his cheeks reddening - it had nothing to do with the workout he’d just done and everything to do with Sir M staring at him. 

“I...I thought Jaz said you were new to pole dancing,” the woman said in awe. 

“I mean, I’ve only been pole dancing for about six months,” Jensen responded, shrugging. “Should I go?” 

“Can you dance like that tonight?” Sir M asked, his voice deep and vibrating. 

“I- What?” 

“Can. You. Dance. Like that. Tonight?” He asked again, more slowly, like Jensen was hard of hearing. 

“I’d need a new black t-shirt… but yeah, I can,” Jensen felt even more blood rushing to his face. 

“Then the job is yours. You’re on at midnight,” the bearded man said. “Be here no later than 11.”

As he was walking out, he heard his name called. Turning, he was shocked to see Jared. 

“Since when do you dance?” 

“Six months or so,” Jensen said, looking away from Jared. 

“Dude, you’re insanely good!”

“Uh...Thanks. Why are you here?” 

“Got hired as a bouncer!” He said excitedly. 

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Jensen exclaimed. “I gotta go call Jazzy and tell her I got the dance slot and then get ready for tonight.” 

“I’ll see you tonight! It’s my first night too.” 

Jensen was able to meet most of the other dancers that night in the locker room. It turned out that there were only three other male dancers, so everyone shared one locker room. A girl came up to Jensen. She was dressed in a red thong and red corset. She had blonde hair that was curled in large spirals. He recognized her as the female judge from earlier. 

“Hi, Red,” She said, smacking some gum and winking at him. 

“Hey,” He nodded. 

“Come on, I’m gonna show you the ropes and rules. I’m Cherie by the way. So, tonight. They’re just going to have you open the Rave with your routine, but people will still throw tips at you. Each of us also has a jar at the bar where people can place tips, too. Don’t forget to empty it before you leave for the night. If you have any problems with patrons on the floor, grab one of the bouncers. After a couple weeks, you might do some dancing for tips, or they might have you out on the floor to do lap dances and such. I dunno, Mish will let you know.” 

“‘Mish?’” Jensen asked. 

“Misha Collins?” She looked at him incredulously. “Big blue eyes, stubbled jaw, orgasm inducing voice?” 

“Oh, him.” 

“Yeah, him. Let's get some makeup on you.”

Jensen fidgeted as midnight approached. His butterflies were even bigger now and he worried he’d mess up the entire routine. As the acts neared his, the music got faster. Cherie was just before him in the lineup, her song started, ‘Cherry Pie’ by Warrant. Jensen warmed his body and put grip aid on his hands. Cherie came through the curtain. She had removed the corset during her act and was down to her red thong and pasties. 

“Good luck, Red,” She winked at him. 

He swallowed hard and entered the stage through the curtain. A few whistles met him. 

“Please welcome to the stage, our newest dancer. His debut performance right here, right now! RED STUD!” the emcee announced. 

‘I Love Rock N’ Roll’ started and Jensen began his routine. He only slipped once and it was barely noticeable. Cheers and applause met him and he bowed. Then, he quickly picked up the cash tips that had been tossed onstage and exited. He’d made nearly $250 from tips he’d picked up off the stage.

Jensen made his way to the bar after he put on another black shirt from his locker. The lights shut off completely and black light turned on. Glow sticks lit up the room. A thumping bass beat blared through the speaker. Jensen sat down at the bar in an open seat and waited for the bartender to see him. The bartender came over to him. 

“What can I get ya?” He yelled over the thick bass beat. 

“Shot of whiskey!” He yelled back. As he went to hand over a ten, a hand caught him. Jensen turned to see Misha standing right next to him. He was wearing a red t-shirt that was a size too small and stretched dangerously over his shoulders. Up close, Jensen was able to see just how handsome the man- Misha- really was. 

“On the house!” He yelled to the bartender. “And make it two!” 

Jensen and Misha tapped glasses and took the shots together. After four more shots each, Jensen was feeling much more free and relaxed. Misha tapped his hand against his shoulder. 

“Come with me!” He yelled. 

Misha dragged Jensen into the Rave and they began to dance together. After the second song they were both drenched in sweat and the alcohol was really hitting Jensen’s head. He hadn’t eaten anything in a few hours. Misha raised his hand to his mouth and swallowed. Then raised his hand to his mouth again. This time he grabbed Jensen’s face and began kissing him. Jensen opened his mouth in surprise and Misha shoved his tongue in and Jensen felt a small pill. Guessing what it was, he swallowed and continued to make out with Misha. 

Within ten minutes, the drug was taking effect. Jensen began to feel remarkably loose, happy and floaty. Misha was grinding against his ass and Jensen didn’t mind one bit. The music thrummed heavily through his head, his heart speeding up to match the rapid music. The bass beat dropped and Misha was reaching around palming Jensen’s half hard cock through the shorts he was wearing. His moan was lost in the music as he leaned back into Misha’s solid body. 

Then, Misha was pulling him along, through the waves of people. They reached a door on the other side and Misha pushed him through it. They were in a back hallway and Misha pushed Jensen into another room. The lights flicked on. Noise was completely silenced when the door closed but Jensen’s head pounded with the remnants of the bass line. 

“Should we be in here?” Jensen asked, eyes widening as he took in the sight of the room. It was a smaller room, but it was beautiful and dangerous. The walls were red, the carpet was plush and black. A few sex toys were scattered around and Jensen could only imagine what was in the armoire at the other side of the room. There was also a double bed in the corner behind the door. 

“It’s my private room,” Misha said. 

“A private room?” 

Misha came up behind him and began kissing and nipping at his neck. Misha grabbed the hem of Jensen’s shirt and dragged it over his head before going back to kissing his neck. Jensen moaned lightly. 

“Owning the place does have its perks,” Misha growled, his voice low and lust-filled. 

Jensen turned to face Misha and pulled the other man’s shirt off. Misha pulled Jensen over to the bed and pushed him down on it. As Misha kicked his jeans off and leaned down on top of Jensen, something clicked into place. 

“Are you a Dom?” Jensen asked. 

“You could most certainly say that,” Misha laughed. 

“I’ve never really… Except that night with you and I don’t remember everything.” 

“Well, it’s up to you, but I promise I’ll make it worth it if you stay, Boy,” the voice slipped down a few notes and Misha reached a hand into Jensen’s hair and pulled lightly. A rush of pleasure flowed through his body. Jensen moaned. “What are your limits?” 

“Nothing too crazy, I’m, uh, pretty vanilla you could say.” 

“Vanilla it is, but next time we do things my way,” Misha smirked before kissing Jensen again. Blood rushed to his face and his cock, making his brain spin. He laughed into Misha’s mouth, the feeling of euphoria enveloping him again. 

--

As Jensen began to swim into consciousness, he squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. His head was pounding, his muscles ached, his ass hurt, and his mouth was as dry as the deserts surrounding Las Vegas. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around the room. He had no idea where he was. The room was lit softly through thick curtains. The walls were a cool grey and matched the bedding. An unopened water bottle was sitting on the nightstand and Jensen grabbed it, cracking it open and taking a deep drink. 

“I was thinking I was going to have to come wake you up. It’s nearly five,” Misha’s voice startled Jensen, and he looked around to see Misha standing in the doorway. 

“I’d have been up at three if you hadn’t slipped me Ecstasy,” Jensen grumbled. “Where are my clothes?” 

Misha walked over to the closet and stepped inside. He threw a shirt and a pair of jeans on the bed. 

“You only had on those pole shorts when we came home,” Misha answered. “Take those. They should fit okay.” 

Jensen got out of bed and stumbled sideways. Misha caught him. He became suddenly dizzy and shut his eyes trying to clear the feeling before it made him hurl. 

“You okay?” Misha asked. 

“Just a bit dizzy… Stood up too fast,” Jensen grunted. He slowly put weight back on his legs and got dressed in Misha’s clothes. They smelled like leather and cologne. An image of Misha pushing his cock into Jensen’s mouth came to mind. 

“We should get some food in you,” Misha said. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” 

“Sure,” Jensen said, his stomach snarling at the thought. 

--

“Everything okay?” Misha asked. 

“When you said ‘have dinner’ I thought you meant a dive bar or a diner or something…”

“Oh no, Sweetness, when I dine, I dine in style.” 

“I’m not really appropriate-” Misha cut him off. 

“Nonsense. Come on.” 

The maitre’d greeted Misha by name and led them all the way to the back of the restaurant to a private booth. A waitress dropped off water, smiling at them before gliding away to the kitchen. Jensen fiddled with the menu, slightly uncomfortable. 

“What’s wrong?” Misha asked in his low, gravelly voice. 

“Just nervous,” Jensen mumbled. 

“Listen, about last night-” It was Jensen’s turn to cut off Misha. 

“I don’t regret anything.”

“Well… Good, then,” Misha said. “Are you good to go on tonight?” 

“Of course,” Jensen waved a hand at Misha.

The waitress arrived with an appetizer. 

“The usual, Sir?” She asked Misha. He nodded, then the waitress turned to Jensen, but Misha interjected. 

“Let me order for you.” It wasn’t a question. 

Jensen, shocked, nodded at him jerkily. Misha whispered into the waitresses ear and she gave him a nod before vanishing again. He turned back to Jensen, and put a hand on his scruffy face. Jensen suddenly had butterflies in his stomach again. 

“So what are you into?” Jensen blurted out the question. 

“Huh?” 

“You know, like you have a private room at Frenzy- Hell, you OWN Frenzy. You’re a Dom, you asked my limits…” Jensen trailed off. 

“I’m into things you couldn’t even dream of,” He said, darkly. Jensen shivered. It was strange, the way Misha could make him feel both scared and aroused at the same time. “But for the most part I’m into Dom/sub.”

“Like, whips and chains and ‘Master’?” Misha chuckled at the look on Jensen’s face.

“I’m more into the relationship, the power exchange, not the punishments, and I prefer to be called ‘Sir,’” He responded. “You know nothing of BDSM if you’ve just watched porn.” 

Misha began explaining the mechanics and the true BDSM scene. Jensen became much more interested, and aroused, as Misha explained the true relationship between Dominants and their submissives. He never figured this sort of scene would be up his alley, but the way Misha had made Jensen beg for release last night… 

“You’ve barely touched your food,” Misha stated. “Eat.”

Jensen did so. Misha smirked at him, his eyes were filled with lust and approval. 

“What?” He asked. 

“You absentmindedly enjoy being told what to do. I just had a very intriguing thought,” Misha said in a hushed voice. 

“What?” Jensen was even more confused. 

“Let me introduce you to being submissive. I think we’d be a good match. We like each other and damn you’re just yummy. I can’t get enough of you.” 

Jensen looked down at his mostly empty plate, his mind was hesitant, but his cock was thoroughly interested in the idea of having sex with Misha again. 

“Try it,” Misha pressed. “If you don’t like it, no harm no foul… But I think you’ll fall in love with it.” 

“Fine,” Jensen relented, telling himself he could try something new. “We should get going. I need to go home and shower. I also need to work out a little. I missed my afternoon class today.” 

“Want a ride home?” Misha asked. 

“That would be welcome,” Jensen whispered.

Jensen finally got back to Frenzy at ten pm. He opened his locker and saw a jar of tips. The jar from the bar. Jensen groaned, knowing he would probably be in trouble with the bartender for forgetting to pick them up. He then pulled his phone out of his locker to check it. He had a message from Sir M. 

I need you to open and close the dance acts next weekend. Open with a slow, sensual song for me? Then close with your regular routine. Next week you work Wednesday thru Sunday. W & Th & Sun 7p - 3a.m. Fr & Sat 7pm - 12:15 am, then you’ll join me in the Member’s Club -Sir M

He immediately texted Jazzy to find out if she could help him with a new routine. 

We can practice this week, I’ve got a good one for you. I’m here btw! To see you perform. 

That week was one of the hardest of his life. He even skipped a few classes at the college trying to get some rest between the club, school, practicing a completely new song, and texting Misha. He barely even saw Jared except at Frenzy. 

Friday evening came and Jensen was a ball of wrecked nerves. He was exhausted, but got a jolt of excitement at the thought of performing a slow song just for Misha. The emcee was beginning to announce the acts and Jensen’s whole body buzzed with nervous excitement. 

“Let’s open up with Red Stud!” The emcee yelled. 

Jensen took the stage and a few whistles broke out above the chattering crowd. He sat down in front of the pole, back pressed against it and nodded toward the emcee. “You’re the Best” by Wet played through the speakers as Jensen began to go through the choreography Jazzy taught him. It was slow and sensual, just what Misha had asked for. Most of the choreo had him on the floor, using the pole as just a prop, instead of being on it the entire time. He ended the song on the floor, in a shoulder mount with his legs split. People clapped, cheered, and whistled. Jensen collected the money on the stage and went back to the locker room, to rest and get ready for the closing act. 

After the closing act, Jensen got a t-shirt on and went out into the now Rave Room. As he approached the bar, he saw Misha talking to a few patrons. One girl was draped over his shoulder and a hotness spread through Jensen’s body. Jealousy. They had never said they’d be exclusive, Jensen reasoned, but he still wanted to toss the girl into what was now becoming a mosh pit. 

He grabbed a couple shots from the bartender, downing one right after the other. His eyes were trained on Misha at the other end of the bar, the jealousy burning through his veins, just like the whiskey he’d shot down. He finally shoved himself from the bar, deciding he could play the same game. He disappeared into the rave to find a partner for the evening. 

As he was grinding with a stranger, he felt a hand fist the back of his shirt and yanked him back. Jensen was shocked, he looked around and saw Misha was the one who had his shirt. He was surprised at the roughness and then saw the look on Misha’s face. 

His jaw was clenched and eyes were narrowed in anger. There was fury written into his face. He caught Misha’s eye for just a moment and saw only rage in the flashing blue. Misha shoved him through the same door as last weekend and into his private room. 

“Think you’re funny?!” Misha spat as all other sound was drowned out. Jensen opened his mouth but a single flash of Misha’s eyes and his voice died in his throat. “Grinding on some stranger right in front of ME? You’re mine!” 

Something strange happened at Misha’s words. He was slightly scared, very much confused and then a shooting feeling of arousal coiled through his belly. Jensen found his voice. 

“You had women all over you at the bar! We never said we were exclusive,” He strained his voice to keep it level. 

“I wasn’t the one out on the dance floor practically having sex!” 

“You were last weekend!” Jensen cried, aware that his words were making less sense. 

“You’re MINE, Boy!” Misha barked. The arousal came back, harder and stronger than before. 

“Promise?” Jensen breathed. 

Anger melted from Misha’s face. He looked confused, then a grin broke across his face. 

“What?” Jensen snapped, but the anger was melting completely and being taken over by desire. 

“You liked it.” 

“Liked what?” 

“Being called names. When I called you ‘boy’ I saw your cock jump in those tight shorts. You like being humiliated,” Misha looked at him fondly. “I’ll tuck away that information for later.”

They ended the night a lot happier than it had started, the fight completely forgotten, like the clothes all over the floor. 

--

Jensen was sitting at Misha’s kitchen table. A laptop, books, notebooks and folders were spread out around him. Jensen had his forehead pressed to the cool wood. He’d spent the better part of three hours trying to write a paper for his english class. What does each room color symbolize in Mask of the Red Death? Discuss. Jensen then thought of the two ten-page papers due at the end of the semester. A Topic of Your Choosing Using Compare and Contrasting Methods and How are American Ideals Still Relevant in Today’s Day and Age? 

He groaned and lifted his head up. He found Misha standing against the counter to his right. Misha was wearing a suit, crisply ironed, with a khaki top coat over it. From the looks of it, Jensen figured it was probably cashmere. 

“Looks like a tornado came through,” He indicated the mess on the table. 

“More like a typhoon. I’m drowning in this.” 

“I wanted to talk to you about some things, but it can wait if you’re too busy.”

“Please, I could use a break from this.” 

“Now that we’re going to delve into this relationship, I want to lay out a couple rules for you to follow,” Misha sat down at the table and looked at Jensen seriously. Jensen nodded. “Number One, you call me ‘Sir.’ Number Two, you don’t cum unless I say so. Number Three, do not lie to me, EVER. And Number Four, is this.”

He took a small, leather-bound book from the inside of his topcoat and set it in front of Jensen. Upon further inspection, it was a journal with lined pages. Jensen cocked an eyebrow at Misha. 

“I want you to keep a journal. At least one page per day, more if you feel like it. On the first page,” Misha flipped the book open, “I’ve written some prompts I’d like you to start off writing about, so we can hone and mold our relationship together.” 

“So, I’m drowning in homework… And you give me more?” Jensen said, indicating the haphazard papers that littered the table. 

“I guess so, yeah. Got a problem with that, Boy?” Misha’s voice dipped into a commanding voice. 

“No,” Jensen responded. 

“No, what?” Misha’s voice dripped with venom.

“Uh, no, Sir,” Jensen looked down at the table. 

“Failure to follow my rules will result in punishment, and trust me, punishment does not equal pleasure.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen said, nodding his understanding. 

“That’s my good slut,” Misha said, patting his hair. Misha and Jensen had found out fairly quickly that the pet name turned Jensen on to no end and Jensen felt a swell of happiness each time Misha used it. “I have a meeting. Be good.” 

As Misha left, Jensen looked at the table. He rolled his eyes in frustration and grabbed the journal. Opening it to the first page, he saw Misha’s handwriting. It was slanted, neat, almost calligraphy

What are your likes and dislikes in the bedroom? Discuss. 

How are you currently feeling about our relationship? Write this subject weekly

What do you want from a sexual partner?

What do you need from a sexual partner?

There was a hard line penned into the page

Only Jensen may write, unless he gives permission for me to respond. 

This is Jensen’s safe space to write what he needs.

Jensen will never be judged for what is written. 

Jensen looked between the journal and the three college papers he was working on. He groaned and pulled the laptop towards himself, deciding to write a little more about Mask of the Red Death before trying to fill out his journal. 

The first room is blue, which symbolizes Poe’s own depression…

“You know, maybe he just liked the color blue!” Jensen yelled at the empty house. He tossed The Works of Edgar Allan Poe across the kitchen. 

I’m honestly not sure how I feel about the relationship with Sir. I’ve barely met him but I feel like I’ve known him for a long time. I’m nervous and scared, but also aroused…

Jensen felt extremely weird writing in the journal at first, but once he got the first few sentences out, a bunch more were written. He ended up with three pages. By the time Jensen finished his journal as well as the Poe paper, it was nearing 5 pm. Jensen stood and stretched. It was Monday, so he didn’t have work and he didn’t have class: college or pole. 

He felt like he hadn’t seen Jared in forever. At least, the last time he saw Jared outside of work or school. They never really had time to talk while busy studying and working. Jensen texted Jared. 

Where are you?

Video Games was the response. 

Jensen was getting ready to head over to his apartment when a thought struck him. He quickly texted Misha.

I’m going over to the apartment to hang with Jared. 

Home by 2am came only a few seconds later. Jensen set an alarm on his phone to go off at 1. 

Jensen had only been by the apartment a couple times in the last two weeks and that was only to grab some clothes, his toothbrush, and school things. Jared hadn’t been home. He was splayed across the couch, playing COD. Jensen grabbed a controller and joined the game. As they played, he couldn’t help but feel a sort of tension between them. After about half an hour, Jared shut the game off. 

“Drink?” Jared asked stiffly. 

“I’m gonna drive back to Misha’s later,” Jensen said. “Is something up?” 

Jared finished his own beer and grabbed another one from the fridge. He scoffed. 

“What?” Jensen pressed. 

“You know, dude,” said Jared, turning to him. “I don’t even know what to say. You get this job at Frenzy, end up in the back room WITH THE OWNER, and then disappear for three weeks. What the fuck, Man?” 

“It’s not like that-” Jensen started before Jared cut him off. 

“That’s how it looks from my angle! You’ve never been that kind of whore! Tell me, is it true? Are you Collins’ new bitch? I have never known you to sleep with a partner more than once, but now that it’s some rich dude...” 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Jensen tried to explain, but he realized Jared must have been drinking most of the day; he wasn’t usually this hurtful. “What?” Jensen was taken aback as he comprehended the last sentence. 

“That’s what I heard. That’s what everyone at Frenzy is talking about. You hopping in bed with the owner. Man, I knew you liked to sleep around but this...” 

“Jared, I’m sorry, dude. Let me explai-”

“Explain what? Just answer the question, Jensen!” Jared yelled. 

“We’re in a relationsh-” Jensen started to yell. 

“It’s been three weeks and you’re basically moved in with him! Do you know how worried I’ve been? I would’ve called the cops if I hadn’t seen you at Frenzy!” 

“I’m fine, Jared! What? Can’t bear me actually being happy?!” 

“You’re a goddamn idiot! You have no idea what this guy’s intentions are! Sure, we’ve all done one night stands, but this… This is a whole new level, even for you,” Jared had gotten right into Jensen’s face. Jensen didn’t back down. The hurt was pumping through his body and he stabbed Jared right where it hurt. 

“You’re the one who almost killed yourself over Gen leaving you!” Jensen shoved Jared hard. He didn’t react fast enough to the fist that connected to the side of his head. 

“Get. The fuck. Out,” Jared snarled. 

Jensen had to sit in his car for fifteen minutes before the dizziness finally passed enough for him to drive to Misha’s...To home. When he pulled into the driveway, he could see the lamp on in Misha’s bedroom. He felt relief at the sight, not wanting to be alone after his fight with Jared. He let himself in the house and went down the hall to Misha’s room. He hesitated for a few seconds before knocking on the door. 

“Enter,” Came a distracted response. 

Misha was propped against the headboard, wearing only his boxers. He was reading Things Fall Apart by an author whose name Jensen couldn’t begin to pronounce. He felt that, in a way. That his life was falling apart around him. The room began to blur and shift and Jensen clenched his hands at his side. It had been a long time since something like this had happened. His head began to buzz loudly, like angry bees. 

“Jensen?” 

The room began to come back into focus, but then thoughts of the night and the last month of his life overwhelmed him and the room spun wildly, his heart raced, and tears fell from his eyes. Misha was at his side, steadying him. 

“I need. My medicine,” Jensen was almost hyperventilating. “In my bag.”

Jensen curled up on the floor, holding himself until Misha came back with a prescription bottle. He popped it open and handed Jensen one pill. When shaking hands, Jensen put the pill into his mouth and swallowed. It would take about ten minutes for the effect to settle in and calm him down. With arms stronger than Jensen imagined, Misha scooped him up and set him down in the large bed. 

“Shh, just breathe,” Misha soothed. 

As time passed, Jensen felt his heartbeat begin to slow and his breathing evened out. He became aware of Misha holding him with one arm, the other carding through his hair. The feeling was soothing, comforting. When he felt he could, Jensen sat up and faced Misha. 

“Panic attack?” 

Jensen nodded. 

“That may have been something you should have told me about.” 

“I haven’t had one for two years,” Jensen whispered. 

“Did it have something to do with the bruise that’s darkening on your face?” 

“I had a fight with Jared,” He explained. 

“Obviously. What about?” 

“This. Us,” Jensen said, apologetically. “I should go lay down. The medicine makes me insanely tired.”

“Stay. I want to keep my eye on you.”

Jensen hadn’t stayed the night in Misha’s bed since their second night together. Jensen felt a swoop of anxiety, but then Misha brought a hand to his face, and it melted away. He leaned into Misha’s touch. 

After a moment, Misha got out of bed and beckoned Jensen to do the same. He set the book carefully on the nightstand and pulled the covers back. He indicated to Jensen to get into bed, then slid in after him. 

“Why do you have panic attacks?” Misha asked. 

“When I was little, and my Mom and Dad were still together, they fought, like, all the time. Downright screaming matches. Their fighting started causing panic attacks. So, now whenever there’s arguing it can cause an attack.”

“I guess the fight just really affected me. I shouldn’t have said some things,” Jensen sighed deeply. 

“We’ll have to be careful. Everything will be okay,” Misha soothed.

The light clicked off and Misha spooned Jensen, his arm wrapped around his waist comforting him. Jensen pushed himself back into Misha’s chest and within minutes, the exhaustion from the day as well as the medicine pulled him into sleep. 

Jensen woke the next morning, groggy and feeling like his head was too heavy to lift. He was alone in Misha’s bed. Slowly, he sat up. He noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand on top of the book that Misha had been reading. He grabbed it. 

I will be in my office when you wake, taking care of some work. Eat some eggs and toast and meet me when you’re through. -Sir

Jensen went to the guest room he’d been calling his own. He slipped into the bathroom attached and did his morning routine. He then made his way to the kitchen, wishing he knew where Misha kept the Tylenol. 

As Jensen ate breakfast, he scrolled through his phone lazily. The group chat he was in with the other guys and girls had blown up the previous night. Jensen scrolled through quickly, getting the gist of what had been discussed. He paused, however, when the chat shifted.

Cherie: It’s almost Mish’s Birthday y’all. What are we doing this year? Another showcase? 

Brad: Maybe, he never gets tired of watching us dance. 

Ariel: What if we did a choreographed routine with all of us? We could do it on the weekend of his birthday.

Michelle: Ooo I like that. Unless @Red Stud has a better idea? 

Brad: That’s a good idea. Everyone meet at noon at Frenzy tomorrow. Come with song ideas. 

Cherie: Great idea! See everyone then?

Shit. It was almost eleven now. He quickly finished breakfast and packed a bag. Then he went to Misha’s office. Jensen knocked on the open door. 

“Enter,” Came a reply. 

Misha was sitting behind a large carved desk, looking through a stack of papers. He glanced up at Jensen. 

“Where are you off too?” Misha asked. 

“Uhh,” Jensen hesitated, not knowing if the birthday party was a surprise. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Misha reminded him suddenly, fixing him with a blue-eyed stare that seemed to read his mind. 

“Okay, I’m meeting the other girls and guys at Frenzy-”

“Ah, yes. My birthday,” Misha rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I just wanted to give you this and ask you to fill it out. I’m filling one out, too. We will compare them and make necessary changes before signing.” 

Misha slid a thick packet towards Jensen. He walked to the desk and picked it up. Standard D/s Contract - Misha Collins was the title. Jensen felt his cheeks heat up. 

“Okay,” Jensen said, slipping the contract into his gym bag. 

“Okay what?” Misha snit.

“Sorry. Yes, Sir,” He amended. Jensen walked around the desk, so he was directly next to Misha, who had gone back to his report. He gave Misha a soft kiss on the cheek which he accepted. 

“Tell the girls and boys not to worry too much. I think I’ll be getting exactly what I want for my birthday already,” Misha threw him a quick, dirty look. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Be good, Slut.” 

Jensen closed his eyes for a moment, letting the heat pool in his belly. Then, he left to get to Frenzy. He seemed to be the first one there, surprisingly. He changed, then warmed himself up quickly. He walked out to the stage and placed his phone off to the side, hitting the “Play” Button on the song he wanted. The slow guitar started and Jensen began swaying his body to the music, body rolling on the pole, doing slow spins. 

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am home again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am whole again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am young again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am fun again

“I think Red should do the choreography!” He heard the yell, it startled him and he lost grip on the pole, landing painfully on his elbow. 

“I have no idea how to do choreography,” Jensen said tersely, sitting up and rubbing his aching elbow. He looked around and saw Brad, Cherie, and Michelle, who seemed to be the one who’d yelled. 

“Yes, you do,” Cherie said. “I know you can. Just by watching that performance, I know you can.”

Everyone filtered in and then Cherie called for silence. 

“I think Red should do choreo,” Michelle said again. 

“All in favor?” Cherie asked. Everyone except Jensen yelled ‘Aye!’ 

Jensen groaned. 

“Now, what song should we do? Fast or slow?” 

“Slow,” Jensen said. “I’m a lot better at slow choreo. Jazzy’s the one who usually choreographs for me.” 

It took nearly an hour before they’d settled on a song. Jensen huffed, it wasn’t a very slow song, but he could work with it. 

“Give me a half hour to figure out what we’re doing,” He grumbled, grabbing a pad of paper from behind the bar. 

Jensen played Breathe on Me at least five times, stopping and starting and writing the choreography on the pad. He called Cherie over and went through it with her. That way she could teach group one and he could teach group two. After about two hours, Jensen called it quits for the day. 

After a long shower, Jensen settled down at the kitchen table to do his homework and try to go through the large contract Misha had given him that morning. He’d gotten his english paper done, his journal written in, and was just staring at the front page of the contract when Misha arrived. 

“Slut,” He greeted, flashing a smile his way. 

“Sir,” Jensen nodded at him, a smile spreading across his face. 

“I’ll be in my room. Have fun.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Jensen, in his limited free time, had been doing a lot of research into proper BDSM etiquette and rules. As Jensen read through the contract, filling in the blanks, he was all too aware of his cock hardening. He palmed himself as he went through the listed kinks and fetishes and circled ones he’d be willing to try. One line of the contract kept playing through his mind.

Above all, the primary duty of this submissive is to please.

Jensen grinned to himself. He had a sudden idea, and it sent warm heat through his body as his heart sped up. He hoped this would work, because if not, he’d be having a hard time following Misha’s rule not to cum without permission. 

He walked down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. The door to Misha’s room was open and Jensen dropped to his knees just outside the threshold. He put his hands on his thighs and bowed his head, closing his eyes. He’d seen this pose on a website as one of the accepted sub poses. He itched to call out, call attention to himself, but he pushed the urge down, stubbornly. Jensen waited. 

A calmness washed over him. His breathing and heartbeat slowed, the thought of pleasing Misha helped him ignore the numbness in his knees. Finally, Jensen heard an intake of breath and the swish of sheets rubbing against pajama pants. Jensen kept still, unmoving. He fought the urge to snap his head up. To meet those blue eyes that could read his mind. 

“How long have you been here?” Jensen couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his body at the soft, loving tone. Misha was right next to him. A hand rested on Jensen’s head. Jensen leaned slightly into the touch before remembering to keep his pose. Words were lost to him. 

“Speak,” Misha’s voice was still soft, but had an authoritative tone that Jensen couldn’t ignore. 

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. It could have been five minutes or three hours. The time had melted away, had become meaningless. 

“What do you need?” Misha asked. 

“To please you,” spilled from his mouth. 

“Good Slut.” 

A sense of pride swelled inside him and a jolt of arousal coursed through his cock. 

“Crawl in here and take your position,” Misha guided him to an open space in the bedroom. 

When Jensen had resumed his pose, he listened intently, trying to figure out where Misha was and what he was doing. Misha’s hand curled into his hair, lifting his head. Jensen struggled to keep his eyes closed, but his lips parted slightly as his breathing quickened. The soft, velvety head of Misha’s cock brushed lightly against his lips. A shiver went down his spine. Sure, he’d sucked guys off before, even Misha, but never like this. 

“Is this what you want?” Misha asked, his voice low and growly. 

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen whispered. 

PART 2

[sckyie]

song: streetcar by daniel caesar

word count: 2.6k

genre + warnings: angst to fluff; reminiscing in past heartbreak, breakdowns, timeskips, swearing, someone gets slapped

pronouns used: she/her

a/n: here's part 2 to driver's license,, i hope this was okay >~< i had to include a new song to the mix (its going into the playlist) soooo enjoy :) also my ratio for angst to fluff is TERRIBLE im sorry

Ever since you had confessed your feelings to your best friend, you had became so distant from everyone. Knowing you might've ruined one of the best friendships shook you. Lately you'd been driving around past curfew just to keep your mind off him. Passing all the street lights just felt like you were driving down memories. 

That flickering light at the corner where Oikawa had helped you after crashing your bike into a pole. Or that bright cool light by the park where you, Iwa, and Oikawa first started playing volleyball. Or that one littered with stickers where you told both the boys that they better remember you when they were famous. 

Apathy overcame your entire being. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, who knew heartbreak could have this effect on a person? It was hard going to school, avoiding Oikawa in every hall, dodging Iwaizumi on your way out, and even trying to ignore Kasumi was too much. It hurt like hell but you didn't want to know what Oikawa had to say. More so, you didn't want to hear what he was going to say, you knew what he'd tell you.

Two months until graduation.

It had been a over a month since that confession. The bright girl everyone used to know dulled out. No one knew why nor how it happened. It only stung between you and the boy you knew you could never love. Oikawa and Kasumi remained together despite the lingering thought of those words you said to him. 

"I- You- Ugh! Just go away, I don't want to see you!" The crack in your voice shook those hidden feelings within you.

"Why not!" Oikawa held onto your forearm, restricting you from running away.

"Because I fucking loved you idiot!" You screamed as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. Oikawa froze at your words, unable to process them.

"You...loved me?" He asked.

"I still fucking love you! God, I hate you- I just- Let go!" You shoved him away from you. "I'm leaving. If you try to stop me, I'm never speaking to you again."

Yet, you never spoke to him regardless. The sudden break between you two effected Iwaizumi as well. Although he had no part in the situation, he was torn who's side to take. He knew your secret but he couldn't betray both his best friends. Seeing you two spilt was like watching glass break. It's sudden, scattered, irreplaceable but if you tried to fix it, you could cut yourself or ruin the glass even more.

Oikawa took your last words as your goodbye. What was worse was that, he couldn't bring himself to find the right words to say to you. How could his best friend love him and never tell him? He never did end up telling Kasumi that he loved her. He began to question his feelings about her and well, you. 

One more month until graduation.

"Hey Y/n, are you going to the third year dance?" Hanamaki taps your shoulder as you doodle on your notes. You shook your head, knowing well enough how you'd have to see Oikawa and Kasumi together. "Come on, we're all going."

"No thanks," You smiled. A sudden ache in your chest hit you as you looked back at your notes. "I don't like dances."

"Liar," Matsukawa joins into the conversation. "What happened to you?"

"Hm?" You looked up, tilting your head at him.

"Just come along, we'll drive," He suggests. "You don't need a date. Just tag along with he boys and Kasumi."

"Again no thanks," You turned him down. "I'm not on good terms with Oikawa right now. I don't want to see him."

"Well, then let's all four go together then. Me, you, Mattsun, and Iwa," Makki says. "We lowkey miss having you around."

"Yeah, come on, we don't have to go with them," Matsukawa agreed.

"Promise we won't hang around them?" You ask solemnly. They nod at you, prompting you to let out a long sigh. "Fine. I don't have a dress, do you guys want to come with to find one?" 

Two weeks until graduation.

You stood in line with the three boys to get inside the ballroom for the dance. You carefully adjusted Matsukawa's corsage that matched your dress. Kasumi and Oikawa had came later, waiting farther back in line. He rests his hand on her waist as he examined the people in line when he spots you. This was the first time in forever since he could see you clearly. He had only caught glimpses of you through the halls, never seeing your face.

Was that the reason the guys didn't want to ride with him? For you? It hit a bit knowing they chose you over him but he knew how you haven't hung out with anyone lately. Always avoiding people, never trying to talk to anyone. 

Inside the ballroom, you and the boys sat together at your assigned table. The songs seemed redundant, leaving you four to occasionally get up to dance. It wasn't until a slow song that caught your attention. You had your head leaning against Iwaizumi's shoulder when you spotted Oikawa and Kasumi walking center stage.

"I'm gonna go outside for some fresh air," You say, standing up. You adjusted your dress before walking away to the outside patio. The muffled sound of the slow song was heard as you rested your arms on the railing. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sounds of the streets nearby. It was hard to drown out the feelings of Oikawa after seeing him with Kasumi. You feel the pain well up, trying your best to resist crying.

You open your eyes as you feel something being placed on your shoulders. "You'll get sick out here," Iwaizumi says, standing beside you. "You're thinking of him aren't you?"

"Can we not talk about him?" You breathed, tears slowly rolling down your face. "I just don't want to think about how bad I fucked up."

"Well," Iwaizumi looked down at the ground. "Will you dance with me?" You turned to see him holding out his hand for you. Taking his offer, Iwa holds you close as the music played. He let you cry in his arms, knowing well enough that you needed this. Having held all your pain behind driving, you couldn't show how much you were in pain. 

"Thank you Iwa," You sniffled into his chest. 

"I'm always here for you," He smiled. "You're like a little sister to me...It pains me to see you all dull and hurt...When Makki asked you to come out with us, I didn't expect you to agree but I'm glad you did." 

"Can I tell you something?" You panted for air through your tears.

Oikawa held Kasumi close, carefully swaying back and forth together. With her head resting on his chest, he was able to see through the patio window. He spots you and Iwaizumi dancing but for some reason it stung in his chest to see that. Why is he hurt? He's with Kasumi and he loves her, right?

Graduation day.

A group of cheers goes around the ceremony as your final day in high school is finally over. You greet your old classmates one more time, saving your close friends for last. For some reason, all the pain you previously carried had faded away. You approach the gate to meet with your friends for the last time before you go off your separate paths. Makki and Mattsun agreed to text you more to keep up with each other.

Iwaizumi had hugged you once last time, telling you to do your best. You smiled for the first time in a while. It was strange but Iwa was glad to see you starting to move on. You and him agreed to update each other on your mental healths and to hang out whenever you'd visit. Then it was the one you dreaded.

Saying goodbye to Oikawa, it'll be the last time you'll see him. You waited patiently for him as he was caught up by some fans and Kasumi. When he did manage to leave the underclassmen, he spotted you waiting. "Hey babe, can you go on ahead? I want to talk to Y/n," He says to his girlfriend. She nods happily, walking by you as she left. 

"Hey," He stops a few feet away from you, scared to step any closer.

"Hi," You said. "I have a few words for you." You let out a small chuckle, leading him to believe it was something good.

"Good or bad?" He laughed.

"Well," You started. "I just wanted to say goodbye for the last time...It was nice being your friend and I know how rough it turned out in the end...I'm sorry for not telling you before how I felt. I just thought I wasn't good enough for you and that you'd fall for someone else. Kasumi is a great girl and you two are amazing together...I really wish you guys the best...I know you'll do outstanding in volleyball like the king you are. You better not forget us when you're famous..Listen, I have to go before I'm late, so this is...it...Goodbye Tooru." You wiped a tear from your cheek, smiling at him. You quickly turned around, disappearing into the city. 

"Wait! Y/n!" He rushes after you, only to get lost in the crowd of third years saying their goodbyes. Oikawa felt tears well up in his eyes as he desperately looked around for you. "You didn't let me say..." He whispered to himself.

A week later, Oikawa and Iwaizumi join each other to lunch at your favorite restaurant. Iwa scrolls on his phone waiting for the food while Oikawa looked at the booth you two would always get. "Hey Iwa-chan?" He asks. "Do you know where Y/n decided to go after graduation?" Iwaizumi stopped scrolling to think back at the third year dance.

"Can I tell you something?" You panted for air through your tears.

"Anything," Iwa replied.

"I'm moving away from Miyagi immediately after graduation," You sniffled. "Remember when we were kids and we said we wanted to live in Tokyo or Kyoto?"

"Y-yeah," He was a little shaken up hearing that you'll be leaving so soon. 

"My uncle just moved to Kyoto and he offer me a room there...and I said yes," You started to trace circles on his back. "It's by that college I wanted to go to and they have good jobs there and-"

"You don't have to explain yourself. You'll do amazing out there," Iwa chuckled. "Just promise you'll visit sometime?" He knew how much you needed to be away from Miyagi. Although it pained him, he knew it was only for the best.

"No," Iwa lied. "I haven't seen her. She hasn't texted in a while.

Three months after graduation.

You got into a cab on your way to your new job at a café. You stared out the window, admiring the new city you live in. Learning to adjust and work around the city was tough. The feeling of calling Kyoto home was strange, knowing that it wasn't. 

Ever since you had said goodbye to Oikawa, things in his life changed. He believed losing you wasn't fair, not knowing where you'd gone always haunted him. He had broken up with Kasumi over the guilt held over his head. Always thinking about you when he was with her wasn't right. With you being gone, his only priority became volleyball. 

You however, had let go of those old feelings you held onto. That last goodbye satisfied you, letting you sleep at night and allowed you to love yourself more. You've grown so much from dull slump you were stuck in for weeks. Though living in a different environment made it feel like you weren't even there.

Oikawa roamed the streets slowly approaching different shops along the sidewalk. He had some free time before the practice match he had, so it wouldn't hurt to explore, right?

That's when it happened.

You closed the door to your cab, turning towards the café's direction. Your eyes lock onto a set of familiar pupils. Frozen in time, the two of you never exchanged a word yet, suddenly a rush of emotions filled you both.

Pain, anger, fear, regret, almost everything you felt in the past came back to you seeing him. Standing before you, the man you once loved. The man you might still love.

You snapped out of your thoughts, walking towards him, stopping a few feet away from him. "Y/n what-" You raised your hand, harshly impacting Oikawa's cheek. His hand flies up to his face, holding the spot you smacked.

"You seriously broke up with Kasumi for me?" You growled. "Y-you're an idiot y'know? She was good to you too! Also ignoring Iwa for volleyball? I told you not to-"

"You kept track of me?" He whispered, a slight smile creeping on his face.

"W-Well obviously! I ask Iwa about you from time to time," You muttered. You looked up to Oikawa and saw him grin down at you.

Before you could say anything else, Oikawa puts his two hands on the sides of your cheeks. He pulls your face close to his, crashing his lips against yours. You tense at the action, gripping his wrists. He doesn't pull away until you settle into the kiss.

Your hands melt away from his wrists and reach for his torso. Your lips moved together in sync, almost as if it were a familiar feeling. He pulls away from you, pressing his forehead against yours. "You never let me say my goodbye," Oikawa snickered. "You said goodbye to me then disappeared without a trace."

"Sorry," You blushed. His hands move to your waist, still holding you close to him.

"I wanted to tell you that..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I love you too. I'm sorry I'm so late in telling you and I'm sorry for being caught up with Kasumi. I didn't know what I was doing and I couldn't talk to you...I fucked up for not seeing how much you- well how much I loved you...I know this is all late and you probably don't want to hear any of this but-"

You tiptoed and kissed his nose, making him stop. "How'd you find out you loved me?" You looked at him curiously.

"I was driving down your street and all the old streets we'd walk through," He started. "It reminded me of you and then I saw that white streetcar. The one that is always parked by the laundromat? It made me realize how much you meant to me."

"Seriously? That old junk car?" You laughed.

"Hey, it reminded me of you okay, just seeing it whenever we hungout and passed it," Oikawa squeezed your hip, making you chuckle at him. "Will you ever forgive me?"

Your laughter ceases as you look up at him. "I had to learn how to drive on the highway on my own, jerk," You brought up.

"Is that a yes?" He smirked.

"...No...Maybe," You squinted your eyes at him. "You owe me ramen."

"Wait how'd you know how I've been these last few months?" Oikawa pulls away from your hold.

"Oh Iwa was the first to know I was moving, I asked him to check on you every now and then. I just wanted to make sure your pretty face doesn't do anything stupid. You did by the way, you did some stupid shit," You grinned. "Hey are you hungry? I can get you something from the café for free." You turned away from him, heading to your job.

"Hey you can't just insult me then leave, come here," He runs after you stopping you a few steps away from work. Oikawa plants a rough kiss on your lips before looking down at you. "The only stupid thing I did was not tell you I loved you sooner."

taglist: @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @d0llpie @elianetsantana @joy-laufeyson @kac-chowsballs

[eepyness]

Alright so @upset-hufflepuff asked me about viria in the comments of a post amd although im really bad at articulating my thoughts here are so stuff:

Her racism and whitewashing (Images are labelled based on which swatch they apply to):

ID: Multiple drawings of annabeth, piper, leo and reyna with skin colours from each drawing swatched and arranged next to the drawings. End ID.

Theres also these drawings that she did:

ID: Black and white drawings of luke, percy, jason, frank, nico and leo. They are sitting and standing in several positions, and are all shirtless. End ID.

(I'll add a link to the actual post where these drawings are at the end, it's just a very long post to scroll through so I put it here for ease)

Some examples of her nsfw atla art (which I couldnt be asked to crop and arrange so sorry about that):

ID: Three greyscale nsfw drawings: the first and last of sokka and toph and the middle of mai and zuko. None of the drawings are highly explicit. End ID.

The link to the pjo boys post from before:

Alright so here's the evidence but what does it mean? Well, in the first image you can clearly see how the tone of annabeth's skin is significantly darker than the skintones of actual poc (piper's official art comapred to the art of annabeth in particular shows this).

The second image is... well. These characters are still young (Nico in particular seeing as he is ONLY FOURTEEN) and um... i honestly have nothing to say about it that is... h.

The nsfw art: same thing as the point above - they are kids. I would also like to add that for the last piece she didnt even bother tagging it as smut or nsfw (I didnt check the first two):

Image Transcript: Well it certainly doesn't look like 'Bending the rules', does it? unless they are bending those rules, haha;)

I knew out it's Tokka week, and someone messaged me that there's also a smut week, so, ta-da, two weeks in one:D

I know I suck when it comes to poses

Tags: #my art, #Tokka, #Toph, #Toph bei Fong, #Sokka, #avatar, #avatar the last airbender, #atla, #kids show huh? End Transcript.

She admitted that it's smut but didn't bother to tag it as such... (btw its still unacceptable that she drew this at all but not even having the decency to tag it...)

There is a lot more I could say about this and people have but I hope that this was a good enough explanation

(Okay to rb)

[heartbreakgrill]

and to my prior request i have like those round coffee house glasses if there’s any consolation on what glasses i’m talking about lol & can i be on ur tag list? i love ur writing!!

description:

a/n: i am so sorry this took so long! despite quarantine, i’ve been unmotivated lmao. hope you like it!!

Relationships are all about connecting to another person, learning to love every single little thing about them. Because people were so unique, with deep personalities, this could take some time to do. Eventually, you may know everything there is to possibly know, which seems shocking. You still remember the plot line between Jim and Pam on The Office, in which Pam insists there must be something she doesn’t know about her husband. But, she does.

It’s difficult to think about for too long because you’ll find yourself becoming infatuated with the idea of learning as much as you can. So, in this relationship of just two months, you were letting things happen as fate allowed them to. You told Calum things here and there, and he reciprocated.

It would be when a morning when you showed up for breakfast that you learned he preferred tea over over coffee. There’d be a boring day at his house where you’d learn that he and Roy had a rotating chore list, shared in their text messages but sometimes written on the white board in the kitchen.

It was on a Thursday night when Calum learned you liked to be in bed on a work night at 9 pm. He’s wrestled with you, wanting to stay longer, but gave up when he realized how tired you truly were. Finally, there was that time at Ashtons, for a barbecue, when Calum learned you were allergic to strawberries after attempting to romantically feed you the chocolate covered piece of fruit.

But, there was still things neither of you knew about each other.

Friday nights were usually when you had the most fun. You’d spend all weekend together, and it kick it off with some late night Taco Bell runs or trips to Luke’s for a double-date, movie night with him and Sierra. Tonight would be spent in, watching movies, most likely going to get some type of fast food way-too late and, for the first time ever, staying the night at Calum’s house. It was going to be a learning curve for many reasons.

In preparation for your night in, you had already removed your makeup and contacts, coffee-house styled glasses framing your clean face. Your hair was in a bun, Calum’s green Empathy hoodie around your torso, and black leggings adorning your thighs. You drove to Calum’s house with the driver’s side window down, but now the sun was set, and you began to roll it up as a chilly gust of wind blew across the valley.

Soon enough, you were stepping out of your car, tugging the strap of your overnight bag over your shoulder, and shuffling towards Calum’s doorstep. You knocked three times before beginning to rock back and forth on your heels. The door pulled open and Roy grinned down at you.

You offered a polite smile as he stepped aside to let you in, “Hey, Roy. How are you?”

“I’m good, [Y/N], thanks. You?” He stood against the now-closed door, watching as you slipped out of your shoes.

Your voice dropped to a murmur with the lightest pink coloring your cheeks, “Nervous.”

Roy laughed, moving back towards the living room with, “Ah, you’ll be fine.”

As soon as he turned the corner, you heard the Duke’s nails tapping against the hallway floor. He came into the parlor, running as quickly as his little legs would allow. You crouched down, the strap of your bag falling down your shoulder. You shrugged it off further and picked Duke up in your arms. He licked your cheek, tail wagging against the crook of your elbow. You stood upright, moving further into the house.

“Hi, baby,” you nuzzled your nose against the soft fur of his neck, grinning at his comfort.

“Wow, Duke, so quick to abandon me just because [Y/N]’s here,” Calum rounded the same corner, dressed down in a Santa Cruz sweatshirt pulled over his blonde hair and pajama bottoms. He looked so cute, your heart almost melted.

You looked up from the dog, a shy smile adorning your features. “He just misses me.”

“Well, he’s not the only one,” Calum wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close to him as he could with Duke between the two of you. You pulled back slightly, bending down to set Duke on the floor. Calum brought you back against his chest, lips grazing your cheek in a sloppy kiss.

You giggled, writhing away from his lips. Calum’s mouth moved towards your nose, eyes shut, but he pushed so harshly because you were pulling away from him that he bashed his face against your glasses. They fell to the ground and you stumbled into Calums chest, laughing so hard your face burned bright red.

Calum was laughing, too, though it was being dialed down by his guilt and worry for the frames he didn’t even know existed. He managed to grab them from the floor, doing a once over to see if they were okay. They were, save a single Duke hair on the glass, so he handed them over.

You calmed down and slipped them over your ears. Calum’s eyes focused on them, admiring the way they fit your face. He, “didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“I do,” you pushed them up your nose, hand dropping to your side. “Do they look bad? I-“

He grabbed your hand as it moved back up at the frames, fingers intertwining with them, “No, they’re, like really cute. Like super adorable on you.”

You blushed again, chewing on your bottom lip, “Really?”

“I just wanna kiss your face, you’re so cute, Jesus,” Calum grabbed your waist with his free hand. You bumped into his chest, finding your footing with your forearm draped over his shoulders.

“Just dont knock them off again.”

-

Later that night, Calum drove the two of you to Taco Bell. It was chilly, but in spite of that, you cradled a slushee in your hand. Calum was holding the other, intertwined in your lap. He pulled off a road that didn’t lead back to his house, and didn’t answer your questions.

He parked the car on a hill overlooking the city. He pushed up the center consol to reveal the middle seat underneath. With a light tug, he had you under his arm, snuggled against his side. You leaned into him graciously, the scent from his hoodie matching that on his neck.

You closed your eyes for a moment, nearly falling asleep when you felt the slushee slipping from your fingers. A flash, also, woke you from your near passed-out state. Your eyes opened to a photo on Calum’s Snapchat of you and him, in the same position. He was grinning, eyes trained on you. They were flushed with pure adoration and you felt your cheeks redden, chest swell.

“Can I post this on Instagram?” He scrolled through his phone, which was still in your eyesight.

You were slightly taken back, thinking that you looked awful in your glasses, face red from the poor car lighting, and chin nearly doubled because you were so snuggled up. You shook your head of the self conscious thoughts, “Oh, sure, I guess.”

“Hey,” Calum set down his phone and turned so he could meet your eyes. “Youre beautiful, okay? I know it might not be something you agree with or feel and I cant force you to believe, but you are beautiful.”

“Cal, I,” you hesitated, “Ive just always been self conscious of my glasses. You can post the photo, Im just scared that the comments are going to reflect my thoughts.”

Calum opened his phone again, tapping on more buttons than needed. He turned off the comments. Added a caption that said, “My personal (and cuter) Harry Potter.”

You glanced back up at him, cupping his cheek with your free hand. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, holding him against you for longer than a moment. He jerked back only to press his lips against yours.

“I want to make you fall in love with yourself while I do.”

TAGLIST: @mantlereid

[shattered-catalyst]

OCD Subtypes for the RPC

Part 1 is here

Well well well, we are back for Part 2 of the Roleplayer’s Guide to OCD.

Fellow Ocd Folks, I see you in those tags and I'm going to do my best to ensure those obsessions are represented here- BUT understand that physically it is not going to be possible to list every single one because I am one person.  Regardless its incredibly brave of you all to rb and add things in the tags, I know its hard to talk about this shit and I see you. I see you.

Resultantly I typed this out and posted it in formatting to assist with accessibility in mind; if you cannot read it still ( I tried Im sorry!) i recommend the copy and paste method or getting the chrome extension bee-line reader.

 There will be grammatical and spelling mistakes. Im sure spacing is odd some places, but you have to understand doing this is extremely anxiety provoking for me so Im just getting it done when I can.

Remember to use your critical thinking; not everyone has the same symptoms/compulsions/triggers and all that.

OCD is fluid. Its like liquid mercury. One day its a handful of subtypes another day its another different serving.

If you are in general squicked about certain topics even by mention read ahead with your own judgement. Remember us folks that have OCD have many disturbing and distressing experiences so if you are writing a character who has OCD and you can’t read about it just don’t give them that obsessive thought/ compulsion. Make sure writing is still a safe and enjoyable hobby for yourself first and foremost.

But ethically and morally I cannot and will not leave out the more disturbing bits. You have the ability to scroll by, I and many others do not get the chance to escape triggering content that our own mind creates.

So read ahead with your best judgement or at least skip around the squicky parts and educate yourself on what OCD is so people quite using it as a Obsessive Christmas/Corgi/Cat Disorder thing. Alright? Cool beans.

Okay so you made it passed post 1 and got under the read more. Give yourself a gold star for diving into this monster of a document.

Below is a crash course it is not meant to replace actual psychoeducation, personal research, or google. Honestly most of us do our research extensively but because OCD is treated so horribly by social media, media, and society in general.

I wasn’t sure where to throw these together because the education tools to learn fully about OCD are very specialized and thus very restricted. I found that many people DO have these experiences with OCD though so I will represent them throughout. I’ll also sprinkle some of my own experiences so you can get a good reference of a person who has the disorder and not just a randomly generated person.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

So OCD is made up of Obsessions, Trigger, Intrusive thought, Misinterpretation/feared consequence,Somatic and Psychological Anxiety, and Compulsions/Rituals.

Your character may not be able to list all of these. In fact if they aren't in ERP therapy they may not be able to puzzle these things out. But YOU as the writer should know them. Your character won’t be walking around talking to just ANYONE that they have OCD. Remember a huge aspect of OCD is it’s Shame.  The disorder makes us feel intense shame regarding our intrusive thoughts, as a result OCD goes undiagnosed for years especially if it has pediatric onset.

  We won’t tell anyone what we are experiencing or why we are doing x y or z. We act like nothing is wrong because to emotionally react is to admit to yourself- and therefore the world- that you have had this intrusive thought and are therefore by virtue a horrible person.[For further information I would suggest also researching PANDAS].

It may be noticeable if your character has an intrusive thought. They may wince or grimace or roll their eyes certainly, but they won’t open up to Joe at the cafe about how their brain is constantly torturing them. I apparently have a very noticeable eye twitch.

 Depending on the nature of the intrusive thought it will get more or less of a reaction out of me. Its usually dependent on how distressing the intrusive thought is and/or if its a new one.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You see OCD doesn’t sit still. It never looks the same. You’ll have your long haul intrusive thoughts that are with you for years but then you’ll have weird ass ones that just appear and demand their voice be heard yelling about cars hitting people or squirrels getting eaten.

Some people have similar ones! So while everyone is different there will always be someone out there with an intrusive thought similar to yours.

 For instance; I bonded emotionally with a lady on reddit because we both have intrusive thoughts during storms that animals and the homeless are dying. We were both horribly relieved to find another person and also distressed that every snow or rain storm brings horrible images and whispers to your mind that while you are warm and snug in bed someone is freezing to death. And its all your fault.

Some days are better than others. As with all mental illnesses it isn’t CONSTANT ALARM BELLS. Some days it will be all alarms and other days it will be like a gentle whisper on the breeze. You can almost not notice it. Almost.

Obsessive thoughts run the gauntlet from ‘i will/could have/may/may accidentally harm etc’ something that you hold of value. This is any obsessive thought that you have: you think about repeatedly and not by choice, it is very anxiety provoking, it is unwanted, and unwelcome.

 Mine run the scale from ‘squirrel will be murdered’ to ‘being responsible for harm’.

Compulsions or ‘rituals’ are any behavior done to alleviate the anxiety from the intrusive thought and trigger object. In short, compulsions and rituals are not fun. they are absolutely not logical, and we know they are not logical but we are forced to do them. Thats why its a disorder. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To emphasize from post 1: magical thinking and the faulty link between thoughts and actions are hallmarks of OCD.  Magical thinking can be anything from contamination to if I turn around three times or stare really hard at something the bad thing wont happen. Sounds weird and is weird and we know it is thats why its a disorder and not a delusion.

The faulty belief that thought=action is the biggest hurdle it is incredibly difficult to grasp, at least for me maybe some of you that have done further ERP can attest, that the mere concept of a thought not being the same as an action is completely and totally mind blowing.

Free will? Yeah thats terrifying. IDK about anyone else but free will is absolutely terrifying; what do you mean i could do anything i wanted?

Thats how you face OCD(WITH A TRAINED THERAPIST). You give in to ambiguity and the unknown. Its breaking that link between thought and action. Its incredibly difficult and draining. A five minute exposure leaves me in shatters for a week and two five minute ones had me ripping my nails past the nail beds with anxiety.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just a reminder: Do not have your character expose themself or expose folks with OCD to a trigger to “ help us get over with”. That is literally forcing someone with a mental illness into a break down and is not helpful. In fact its worse because a person knows about this intrusive thought and they tried to make it real. More shame and some trauma. 

If you have OCD, more likely than not a family member or significant other has tried this with the purest of intentions. But it never works like that. Theres a reason that therapists get special training for this. If people want a post on ERP I can make one at some point. 

------------------------------------------------------------------

Actually let’s drag me with the squirrel thing as the example- fellow OCD Folks get out a pen and paper and try breaking down one of yours;

Obsession:Squirrel will be murdered

Trigger: seeing a squirrel

 Intrusive thought: Graphic images of a squirrel being murdered by a hawk/ impaling depending on the day

Misinterpretation/feared consequence: Squirrel will be killed and its all my fault

Somatic and Psychological Anxiety:intense anxiety, palms sweating, heart racing,

Compulsions/Rituals: Must stare at the squirrel to prevent bad things from happening, 

Now imagine if that is every time you see a fucking squirrel. You have somehow become completely and totally transfixed on a squirrel and nothing is going to pull your attention away or the squirrel dies- which your mind is giving you lovely images of btw.

Cute right?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Below are the subtypes with general information/example thoughts/ and how some of these have impacted me socially because apparently some people dont understand that mental illnesses impact their social lives?? yall...

Social: This can range from ‘ i am constantly thinking i did something wrong so i have to ask for reassurance that we are still friends’ to completely unrealistic worries. Maybe its an intrusive thought that ‘ your voice is annoying them’ . There’s reassurance seeking, internal and external checking.

 It makes friendships extremely difficult and exhausting. You’re not trying to get to know someone with an annoying frat boy egging on anxiety in your brain. This can also manifest as having strict rules for yourself and ethical codes. 

My therapist likes to say she could give us (folks with OCD) a pile of hundred dollar bills and come back and they’d all be returned. Because OCD makes you so strict and morally confined. Which ISNT fun. Like I dont get pleasure over having to memorize the entire Code of Conduct!

Social Media: Its the bane of human existence some days and a lifeline the next. But what if everytime your follower count was an odd/even number it sent you into a panic attack. What if you spent all your time with intrusive thoughts that somehow someone misinterpreted a post or that someone is going to be harmed by a post you made about tapirs. 

You may be forced to block people to get your number down or keep pornbots on your blog to keep your number what you like (see there is a use for them! We sacrifice those before actual users!) You may be refreshing your page every second because ‘what if you miss a message’. It's going to look a lot like ‘check check check check reassure yourself double check your posts check check check reassure check check FALSE MEMORY check your post etc’

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Clothing/Body Image: When its not Body Dysmorphia it can be OCD. Sometimes this looks like I obsess about a body part and therefore I choose my clothes/hairstyles to hide those.  Some personal examples: as a kid I was sure that mind readers exist ( THIS IS AN OCD THING TOO I was so relieved to find that out) and that if i didnt wear  a particular hat they would see all these horrible thoughts and it would be revealed what an awful person I was. So I wore the same dumb ass bucket hat for a year (or more I cannot remember but it was a long ass time).

I was once so fixated on being given a compliment on my eye color that I wore sunglasses (even at night) to a summer camp. And if any of those teen girls in that cabin that stood up and mocked me in a crowded lunch hall by singing ‘i wear my sunglasses at night’ you all owe me 40$.

Even younger still I had intrusive thoughts. Like say, if anyone noticed I was female that i would be kidnapped so I chopped my hair very short. I altered my appearance to be very androgynous and even switched to walking more masculine. Because omg if your hips move someones going to kill you thats just how it works. ( It doesnt help I later figured out I was a lesbian)

Your wardrobe may be impacted by OCD and yes so can your body image.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Also yes the fear of mind readers is also a thing; i always thought I was somehow faking OCD because yes that is also a…..

Faking: Do you value telling the truth? Do you detest lying ? Boy Howdy do I have some news for you. OCD is going to try and convince you that YOU LIED. Whether it was on a chastity pledge to get a free sandwich or in a conversation you just HAD. This links a lot with false memory OCD.

Another aspect is OCD makes us doubt we have OCD and tries to convince us we have any other diagnosis under the sun and we are obviously faking our OCD.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Sexual Orientation OCD; It is as it is called. Sexual Orientation OCD is what happens when your brain goes ‘hold on what if you’re not this orientation what if you are THAT’. It doesn’t matter where on the LGBT umbrella you fall you will have OCD trying to convince you otherwise. From compulsive staring at members of the same/opposite gender to compulsively reassuring or checking with yourself to ensure that ‘ no no you are in fact THIS orientation.’ 

This can range in behavior from binge watching porn, staring compulsively to check that there is OR is NOT attraction,self checking past experiences and memories, analyzing your clothing and your lifestyle in painful and intricate methods.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

False Memory OCD; False memory OCD is basically your brain sitting you in a noir interrogation room, handcuffing you to a chair grilling you. It demands that you did *insert bad thing here*. This can range from anything from something Harm based to pretty much *anything* from other OCD subtypes. Which is quite delightful really.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Sensorimotor OCD; Sensorimotor OCD is obsessive body responses. These can be ‘ I have to cough really hard and really feel it right in my chest and if I can’t get it right I have to cough until I do’. This can be counting your heartbeats. Trying to check yourself that you in fact have a heart and checking and reassuring that it is still beating. It can be hyper-awareness of swallowing or even swallowing repeatedly. It is anything with selective attention; ie its an automated process but your OCD is forcing you to be aware of it.

Your OCD makes you aware of the sensation of, say, breathing, and then it convinces you that if you stop paying attention to it you will stop breathing. So now you’re horribly aware and focused solely on breathing and breathing alone. It keeps me up most nights with the pounding anxiety fueled by the pressure of ‘if you stop focusing on breathing you will stop breathing completely’ or waiting to feel that last heartbeat in your chest. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Existential OCD; You ever feel existential ? Existential OCD is like having a very aggressive existential crisis that turns you into NEEDING answers IMMEDIATELY. This can look anything from hours panic scrolling the net to panic inducing anxiety because you don't know what happens after death. The thoughts are like foghorns on a misty sea.

This sounds basic and the only example i can give is as a teeny tiny 7 year old I had a panic attack in bed screaming that ‘ what if im a dinosaur and im asleep and i wake up and my whole family is GONE’.

To be fair I did like dinosaurs a lot.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harm OCD; This is pretty self explanatory but I will give more details. Harm OCD is OCD demanding that you will/could/can/may have/might harmed yourself/others/any living creature and that you alone are responsible. 

This means anything from getting anxious driving over crosswalks because ‘what if you dont see one and hit someone and its all your fault and you hit someone go back and make sure you havent hit anyone’ to ‘im holding a knife so im going to accidentally stab someone’ to ‘ i didnt see my cat this morning and now im at work and think she must be dead and i am responsible for her demise.’

 It can be as simple as ‘if i use a pencil i will stab myself in the eye’ or as complex as ‘ i may accidentally say a slur’/ ‘ i am going to say this horrible thing out loud if i cannot control myself.’ It can also be images of terror or racist/sexist/ableist jokes in your mind that repeat like a broken record.

(Please note from section 1 that this is extremely anxiety provoking and not something you would do. OCD preys on what we respect the most.)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

pOCD; Tumblr listen the fuck up because I am tired of seeing people get called shit on this website for having this mental illness. People who experience pOCD are not pedophiles, they do not get any pleasure or benefit. The thoughts and images are meant to induce harm to the person experiencing them. Children are normally the trigger for this and the resulting images can be very graphic. Again you aren’t attracted to children- thoughts of them getting harmed hurt you so your OCD makes you see them.

Know this so you can advocate for folks with pOCD in real life. Remember we are here. We are suffering and we are terrified of your children.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Poisoning others/or in your food; Life isn’t medieval anymore but sometimes OCD demands we have a food taster or that we obsessively worry that we may kill someone with our cooking. Personally I struggle with colorblindness so I am constantly fretful over cooking any sort of meat so it’s difficult for me to cook it.

 However this also comes as; obsessive horrible thoughts of your cooking kill someone or that you have somehow/accidentally poisoned someone’s food (even if you haven’t touched it or been within a foot of it ) or that someone has poisoned YOUR food even if no one has touched it except you. You’re going to be picking apart your food or unable to eat out at all.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emotional Contamination: It’s similar to magical thinking and this terrifying prospect of mind readers. Emotional contamination can manifest as anything from intense worry over somehow gaining someone else’s negative personality traits.

 Or that somehow by interacting with any role of someone horrible will make YOU somehow also responsible for the horribleness.  There is usually a person or a type of person that is a trigger, but it can also be location based.

 This is one subtype where magical thinking and superstition are apparent.  

For instance; as a teen if a male was in my space or had physical contact;like shaking hands,giving a high five, being in my room etc. I would have to go around and physically touch all the objects that I perceive they may have also touched as a way to cancel out their presence. 

This includes wiping off myself to negate even the touch of family members. It really hurts peoples feelings, my father was especially hurt by this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Physical Contamination: This goes beyond physical dirt and grime. Most of us dont have spotless homes because if you’re having a fist fight with your brain everyday cleaning falls by the wayside just like it would for anyone else. Physical contamination holds 2 things: physical contamination obsessions AND compulsive cleaning behaviors/rituals. We believe that a small amount of a contaminate can cover large surfaces.

 Oh, and did I mention its not JUST dirt/germs/viruses. The list is expansive but heres a mixed bag of what they can be: sticky substances,dead animals,glitter (FUCKING GLITTER),negative words or language,colors, numbers, surfaces in general, food, people, and activities.  There is also a hyper responsibility to protect yourself and others from ‘contamination’.

Strangely there is a magical separation between the contaminated world and the ‘clean’ one. Spaces designated as clean would be a bedroom/bathroom/workspace where you are most active. That space is where the compulsions and intrusive thoughts occur. Its not I MUST CLEAN EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. Otherwise I would be working cleaning houses because why the hell not amiright?

A real world example from a colleague would be a young man with physical contamination OCD is struck with such intrusive thoughts about cleaning that they refuse to allow anyone in their room or any animals in their home. But they are not able to even flush the toilet, take out the trash, wash dishes, or do garbage because of their intrusive thoughts.

The most famous would be compulsive hand washing but I feel it is important to also note OTHER aspects of physical contamination because everyone sees the hand scrubbing stereotype. 

Other compulsions include intricate rituals, not touching the floor (i played X-treme the floor is lava during college. I couldnt let my feet touch the floor because it was ‘dirty’),excessive showering (2-8+ hour showers guys, 8 hour showers. Thats what we’re talking about.)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Relationship OCD: This comes as no surprise that yes you will have intrusive thoughts that you are somehow harming/ will harm/ may accidentally harm your significant other. Whether that be by physical or emotional means. It can look like ‘ I may have lied to her about how much I love her’, ‘ i may not actually love her and I may be leading her on’, and ‘ I must be corrupting her’. These can extend to certain physical activities with false memory OCD as a cherry on top. A great finishing garnish to leave you feeling absolutely dismayed and unable to trust your own perception.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scrupulosity: Religion! Whatever that may be! Its a thing with OCD.  With Scrupulosity obsessive thoughts run all over the board from; you committed a sin and forgot about it you monster to having to pray continuously/ a certain time/ until its right. What is right?Ask OCD that’s the only person who knows. 

We are fairly certain my grandfather had OCD because he went to church for every single Catholic Mass. Every single day. Every. Single. Day.  That’s not a healthy amount of attendance(I'm calling you out posthumously because I care Robert!). This can also look like: praying a certain amount of times. Praying until you do it ‘right’. Confessing every single potential sin. Cataloguing and dwelling over ‘sinful’ things. 

----------------------------------------------------------

Symmetry or Just Right OCD: Symmetry OCD is the runner up for ‘most likely recognized on tv shows’ award.

Symmetry OCD convinces you that if *insert thing here* isnt symmetrical or ‘just right’ (a magical position or number of objects that makes 0 logical sense) that something bad will happen.

This can range from the known; rearranging things. But it also looks like buying more objects until you reach the right amount and even throwing out objects if theres ‘too many’.

It can range from ‘the walls are percievably not straight so now i avoid that room at all costs otherwise i will be trapped traveling the edges of the wall with my eyes otherwise it will fall in and murder us ALL.’ to ‘ this historical bust is one inch off to the left and now all i see is visions of it breaking against the ground.’

So that is what I have time for. 9 pages on subtypes and basic information. If you find yourself wanting me information all of this is easily accessible online. So go, be free and dont ever compare people to Monk again. Write Batman and Scott Summers with OCD. Give us ACTUAL representation and not throw away joke lines. We are here. Our suffering isnt funny. We deserve representation too.

[kareofbears]

persona 5 strikers thoughts and feelings

This is going to be a long post. Like, the type of post you’d only really have time to read when you’re trying to sleep but you’re not ready to be unconscious yet so you’re just looking for something to do to spend your time with minimal effort. 

So in 2018, a masterpiece was born into the world: Into the Spider-verse was released and it was amazing—it’s honestly the best spiderman movie we have without a doubt, and it’ll be very far into the future before Spider-verse is beaten as the best spiderman movie. Them’s the facts. Then in 2019, Spider-man: Far From Home was dropped. It’s a great movie! Great characters, great continuation of who these characters are and works fantastic as a continuation of a story. It’s really hard trying to take the torch of a previous movie (or in Marvel’s case, juggling twenty something movies) and come up with a new movie that both works on its own, as well as being the next step in this series of films. Thus, with that idea in mind, I think it’s kind of unfair to judge into the spiderverse and far from home, because these are two movies with two completely different objectives in mind. 

Okay, so this is still a persona 5 strikers post, I promise, but the idea is the same: Persona 5 could basically do whatever it wanted—new story, new characters, new everything, and it’s just plain old awesome. However, Persona 5 strikers did not have that sort of freedom. It was bound to the original game, and it had its own rules and stuff it had to keep intact, characters they had to work with, and on top of that, it had to justify its existence as a sequel (lets pretend money doesnt exist lmfao). 

SO, the big question is: did it do that? Did it justify its existence? 

And my answer: holy fuck did it ever do that

I came into this game knowing the extreme bare minimum. I knew there was someone named Sophia, and i knew there was roadtrip, and i knew there were Personas. That’s my knowledge of it before i played it on the Switch.  I should also clarify like, early on, that i was not expecting anything from this game. At all. I was the world’s biggest cynic of this game—if you scroll down my p5s tag far enough, youll just see me complaining about a game that hasn’t even come out yet. I was fully expecting to have this be a Waifu show, and any male character that isn’t Akira to just be shoved aside like some kind of nerd in a high school hallway, and i have never been more pleased to be wrong. In fact, i actually owe it an apology, because of how fucking rude i was for no reason!!! Because this game deserves everything to be honest. 

Persona 5 strikers is, frankly, insane. Insane in the sense that it got to pull shit off that just would never have existed in the original game, because the original game is scared. It had to be as impressive as possible and garner as much attention as possible. Strikers does not have that problem—every single person who bought that game does not need to be convinced that persona 5 is a good game. They already played it. That means Atlus can just fuck around and have a good time, and man did they have a good time. There’s still scenes that still shock me if i think about it too hard, because i’m used to atlus having to follow this sort of rule set when it comes to persona 5 (or any of the main games im assuming, but i havent played them.) And on top of that, there’s still shit that’s Atlus Trademarked Branded in a good way. The style of story of story telling, and revealing the mystery that is so integral to what p5 is, is still there. 

So, to make this even a little bit comprehensible, i will make a list! 

First of all, What is this game?

In short, this game is an OVA of an anime. It’s bonus side content that has one thing in mind: to showcase these lovable characters more by putting them in fun situations. That’s it, and it is just phenomenal. That was the main point of, i’d say, like forty hours of the game. It’s just fun times with fun characters. 

But to get deeper of what i think is happening, or what they were thinking during the development, is that this is a second opportunity. Persona 5 (as we all know) had a lot of problems, and we were not quiet about those problems. We yelled it all out, made posts, made complaints on every social media platform ever. And Atlus heard all of them, and Strikers is a way to mitigate those mistakes. Aside from being a fun OVA, Strikers also works to be a deeper exploration of these characters—more specifically, the characters that did not receive much in the original game. Creating this sequel is having the ability to redo what they felt (or to be more specific, we felt) in the original game while adding new ones. I will get to that in a second.  

The format of the game 

Absolutely brilliant to throw them on a road trip. P5V already forced us to experience Shibuya for 200+ hours, and im so glad that they didn’t do that again. Going from town to town, making us experience these new places alongside our favorite characters is so good, and it just makes sense. It’s fun, it’s lighthearted, and it’s actually shockingly good. But one thing i do want to talk about early on is the way the story unfolds and the villains that they use, and what they do with it because it’s very interesting. 

So as we explore japan and stuff, we encounter jails, and with those jails comes an antagonist. This antagonist works to be a parallel to one of our characters. That character will find it in their hearts to feel bad for the antagonist, because the antagonist could have been them had the original game not happen. At first I thought all of the thieves were gonna get an antagonist, and i was really hyped for the ryuji one. And then came to hour forty of the game where i realized “yeah that’s not gonna happen. There’s just not enough time.” And i was right, and the game ended. But i am not salty at all, honestly, because the people who got a direct antagonist were: Ann, Yusuke, and Haru. (we wont count zen and sophie). 

Is there a trend??? Yes. these are all characters in the original game that have received the worst treatment by atlus. The three of them are basically cast aside the minute they finished their original arc, and its horrible! BUT that’s why this is the path that atlus chose for them—to give them more depth, and screentime, and a way to show their inner self. That isn’t to say that the ones who aren’t those three (makoto, futaba, mona, akira, ryuji) didn’t get anything. Futaba still has her thing at the end with ichinose, and she was very prevalent and animated during the rest of the game. Mona and Akira have to be a focal points, that’s just the nature of the game. The other two though, I will talk about in depth in a second.  

Makoto

Y’all i poke fun at shumako fans sometimes cause its kind of easy and fun, but i honestly love makoto. In my very first playthrough of p5 (my first ever jrpg game, first persona game, i had no idea what i was doing), i had only maxed out two characters: ryuji and makoto. And i know she had a lot of screentime and love in the original game which is great, but i truly felt like she was dissed in this game. Her only roles were

A driver

Someone to tell them “we don’t have a choice. Let’s keep going and see where this takes us.” (seriously, if you replay this game, you will see how much she does this)

Idk, i just wish she had more to do, especially compared to how much love they gave the other characters. 

But let’s talk about some of the new characters! 

Zenkichi

Damn you atlus. Damn you and your insistence at bringing in cop characters. I was fully on board with hating zenkichi, i was fucking ready for it. I was convinced that there was nothing they could do convince to like zenkichi. I was immune to their copaganda. 

And then i ended up loving him, which makes me sad a little bit. I didn’t realize how desperate i was to have an adult who has a persona. Someone who wants the world to change just as much as they do, while still having that aspect of them that makes them adult. Like??? As someone who is technically an adult, its a breath of fresh air. An adult. Who fights. For justice. Using a persona. And god i love akane so much, and her obsession with the thieves (that scene is probably in my top ten fave scenes of the game). Also what i loved about zenkichi is that he fucking hates the cops!! He hates the system of the cops!! And thats why i actually really started to love him!! Because i thought it was atlus saying that the systematic problem of the police cannot be solved by one person, and zenkichi threw away his badge. I actually cried at that part!! 

But then he became a cop again, and i was just :/ but as a character, i really love him to bits and would love to do a study on him, or at least use him as an outside pov. But! i absolutely love his persona, since im a les miserables fan hehe

Sophia 

she’s probably my favorite new aspect of the game. I was ready to not like her—again, i just suck like that, lmfao—and when i saw her, i was scared that she was just another waifu. I mean, she was very cute after all. But then as the game went on, i thought she was a little too cute. And even further into the game, i finally slapped myself in the face and realized oh my god shes not a waifu. Shes a sister. 

That blew my mind, im ngl to you. A female character that isn’t supposed to be romanced? By jove, what a miracle! 

And she…is an amazing character. Im sorry, i just love her so much. I love her so much that she  probably ranks as my fifth or sixth favorite character which is surprising even to me. Everything about her is delightful and invigorating. She’s funny??? Her comedic timing is amazing, and she has such chemistry with the rest of the team. She’s actually useful to the plot, and while her character design is a little too on the nose for me in terms of cuteness (i mean, good god she’s wearing oversized sweater to show how cute and tiny she is, and her hair has literal hearts in it), she is absolutely lovable. 

But what i actually really wanna gush about for a second is sophia at the last stage of the game. You get the idea, i dont really like to get excited over things, so at this point i figured that there was nothing this game could do to shock me. 

And then sophia had a persona awakening. 

Like. holy fuck did i yell. I didnt realize what was happening until the music had already kicked in. and its just so fucking smart!!! Sophia??? The ai?? With no heart?? gOT A PERSONA???? AWAKENING??? BECAUSE SHE LEARNED WHAT THE HEART IS AND THE PASSION THAT YOU NEED IN ORDER TO GET A PERSONA??? I started crying honestly, because it was just so smart. And looking back on it now, its obvious!! Of course it would lead to this, it only made sense that the culmination of her character arc leads to her getting a persona, nothing else would have been as good. Also, her voice actor is just amazing?? When she was talking to ichinose at the end, i actually got incredibly emotional because of the line reads. Its just so spot on and it really captures the essence of sophia.

Muah. five stars Atlus. You got me. 

Ryuji <3!!!!

Oh man. Oh boy. Okay. so where do i start. 

Yall know i love him. Hes probably my favorite fictional male character of all time, and he is the one i was the absolute most cynical about in this game. I was expecting literally nothing. Nothing. Like. nothing. I thought he was just gonna keep being used as a joke, or a gag, and he’s gonna be super horny all the time for the other girls and it was gonna make me mad and there was gonna be some insane homophobic/queerphobic jokes in every other scene and i know i was being unfair, but i cant help it. 

And then i played the first two hours of the game, and i cried the entire time. Because ryuji has never been better than he is in this game. Its crazy. 

The ryuji in persona 5 strikers is who ryuji should have been/how he should have been treated this entire time. From the actual funny jokes (for example, the gold bar joke + his reaction to it in the beginning of the game), defending his female friends instead of being the one people need to defend from (natsume arc), and the fact that he was the one to be there with morgana and akira in the very beginning of the game. Its such a small thing that they didnt even need to do, but it was such an integral part of the original game for me, that i just was convinced that nothing like this was going to happen. But then it happened. Its just small stuff like that that could have been overlooked but it wasn’t because this game? Persona 5 strikers? Fucking loves ryuji. 

The actual respect they gave this boy is insane and i wasn't ready for it. Like, they gave the shujin trio lunch, they gave the little charm of the katana when they were in natsume’s jail, and, in my opinion this is the second-best thing that they could have given ryuji is sophia. Ryuji and sophia are the pinnacle of a brother & sister bonding relationship in the game that isn’t akira & futaba. And its really prevalent too?? Small stuff from the beginning of the game (pulling her out of a jail, calling her shorty), but then you have the iconic “shut the fuck up” scene, and that scene was so well characterized and written and voice acted, that somehow him saying “fuck” was the least exciting part of that scene to me. Ryuji is an older brother to her, like its undoubtable, and its only further cemented at the end of the game where Ryuji helps out ichinose because he knows how much sophia cares about her. This game. Love ryuji. And i love. This game. 

You know what else i love? Akiryu. 

Guys. i was fully prepared to starve in terms of akiryu. But theres just. So much of it. I wont get too deep into it, because i think this aspect of the game for me still needs marinate a little bit. Like, what was that last shot when EMMA died and Ryuji walked to approach Akira so they could relish in their victory together?? And the smile from both of them??? What the fuck. That was amazing. Also Joker being saved by Ryuji when he was about to fall from the cliff to save sophia??? WHAT. The LEADER AND HIS RIGHT HAND MAN? WHAT. anyway. If theres anything i want to keep for myself in my own brain, its the akiryu aspect of this game, so i wont talk too much about that part of things (instead, itll probably manifest in fic lmfaooo). 

Sure, there’s tidbits of stuff i dont like that they gave ryuji: sexualizing ann in that one cut scene and making him touch the jails even though it hurts, and i recognize those and frown at them, but for the most part, i am blown away with how they treated him.

Basically, Ryuji has never been better. From the opening of the game with him being the first text message and the one to sling his arm around akira, to the very last cut scene where it was ryuji wordlessly leaving because he’s so confident that they would never be separated for long, this game adores Ryuji and i am so so happy to say that.

The Royal aspect of things

Yeah, i had to talk about this, but itll be a short thing i just wanted to point out. Because the last part of this game...is persona 5 royal. Which is curious. Like taking reality and giving that power to someone else so you dont have to experience suffering anymore? And even like, the final section just looked a lot like the top half of maruki’s palace?? And whats even crazier is that we had a boss fight with sophia, just like how we had a boss fight with sumire? Royal and Strikers have like, the same thesis statement. It’s kind of uncanny.It’s interesting, it’s like atlus came up with these two ideas, and then just decided they liked both of them so much that they just did it twice. I don’t mind though—actually, in terms of how the last Palace/Jails go, i probably like them both about equally. 

Though i did love the final battle in this one more than i did in royal. Splitting into teams?? Thats cool as fuck, and really innovative and i didnt see it coming. It also kicked my ass. A lot. 

Now for the last stretch: the small stuff!

The music — bomb as fuck. In my heart, Daredevil is ranked the same as Rivers. Axe to grind is also amazing, but Daredevil owns me

Akechi — i really debated whether or not to talk about him, but i figured a bullet point should be enough. Im really shocked that he wasnt in this at all. Like not even a name drop. If this is an OVA, and the point of the game is to please the fans, and akechi is arguably the fan favorite character, i was really ready for something. But there was nothing, except for the pancake hallway if that even counts as a reference. Thats it. Thats all i wanted to say about him.

The humour — FUCKING HILARIOUS im convinced that in my fifty hour playtime, five of that is dedicated to me laughing and unable to continue the game 

Akira — so much personality! His lines of dialogue are crazy sometimes (like. Whats up with him saying Ryuji has ‘nice abs’ when they were in bath? Im crazy and even i dont know what the fuck that could mean) 

Battle system — oh my god i almost forgot to talk about this. I love it! I kind of miss the turn based aspect just because i found it very comforting for some reason, but this hack and slash style of gameplay is so invigorating because i do feel like it justifies shit like the baton pass and huge attacks.  This battle system fully encompases how the Phantom Thieves are supposed to fight, you know what i mean?

Anyway, thats my thoughts on strikers. Loved it. Amazing. 9.3/10, wouldve been higher but Konoe’s Jail almost bored me to death. Also im a monster and i didnt do any requests that isn’t a fun one, teehee. As if i play persona 5 for the persona aspect of things.

[escapewriter]

Hey There Delilah

pairing : seungkwan x reader

synopsis : if only you got his address right, maybe he wouldn’t have been that salty.

genre : fluff, humor, slight angst

word count : 3.3k

warnings : none

posted : 01/16/21

a/n : IM SO SORRY THAT I HAVENT UPDATED THIS FOR A MONTH. BUT I GOT INSPO BECAUSE HIS BIRTHDAY WAS COMING UP SO HAPPY SEUNGKWAN DAY!!!!

TAGLIST : @vibecheckvernon @beomiebear5 @lightoflife @skylions-den @noniesgirl

won’t let me tag : @pandora1834

send me an ask/dm if you would like to be on the taglist

pieces of love masterlist // playlist // main masterlist

“Do you have to leave so soon?” Seunkwan pouted as he held your hand and rolled your luggage in the other. “I mean, you have time to stay a little longer.” He looked down at your intertwined fingers, slightly swinging it.

“You’re telling me this now? If you told me earlier, I could have gone later but I already got my ticket and we’re literally standing in the middle of the airport.” His mouth fell open as you giggled, releasing his hand to cup his face in your palms. “Don’t worry, Kwan, I’ll be back before you know it. And remember our deal, okay? Only letters.”

He sighed but repeated your words in a defeated tone, “Only letters.”

//

“Man, fuck these letters.” Seungkwan groaned in annoyance as he crumpled the 5th piece of paper into a ball and threw it into the trash bin. Jun looked up from his phone where he was seated on the couch, a concerned, yet amused, look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Can’t spell their name right?” Laughing at his own joke, he didn’t notice his friend swiftly turn in his chair to glare at him, shutting him up with a cough. He cleared his throat and nervously sat up straight, “Seriously, what’s wrong? Don’t know how to spell something or what?”

“No that's not the problem, and even if it was, I wouldn’t be asking you how to spell something.” Seungkwan turned back to his desk, resting his head on the wooden table. “I haven’t gotten a letter in a month. Do you think something’s wrong?” Jun hummed again, listening as he scrolled mindlessly on his phone.

“I don’t think you did anything wrong, they’re probably just busy. I mean, New York is a busy place and they gotta pay attention to some things, I guess.” Seungkwan turned around again, looking at the coffee table Jun had his feet propped up on.

“I don’t think I did anything wrong. I’m saying, maybe something is wrong.”

Jun looked up, eyes staring at Seungkwan’s furrowed eyebrows, “Wouldn’t their family tell you though? I honestly don’t think it’s that big of a deal. Just write the letter and ask them what’s wrong and if they don’t reply, then... there's your answer.”

“Aren’t you such great help.”

//

Seungkwan slammed the pen on the desk, finally finished writing the letter to you. He doesn’t really know why you stopped sending letters; it was usually a one to two week delay. Nevermind that, Seungkwan is sure that after you get this letter, you will definitely reply to him.

“Jun, can you read this for me? See if it sounds good?” He turned to the male who was eating on the small table, holding out the letter for him to take. Reaching over, Jun retrieved the letter from Seungkwan’s grasp, scanning the neat handwriting before reading:

Hey there,

How are you? Are the people treating you nice there?I sure hope they are because you’re too kind for this world. What’s it like living there so far? I’m sorry for all these questions, I’m just curious because ya know, it's New York City!

So… it’s been a while since I’ve gotten a letter from you, but maybe you’ve been busy. I mean, this internship, it’s a big deal so I wouldn’t want you to worry about sending letters all the time. Plus it probably keeps you occupied so don’t worry about anything, I’m just glad you’re happy doing what you love.

Anyway, uh, I heard back from Vernon. He said that he can show you around since he’s in town visiting with his mom. I don’t know if you’ll get this in time, but maybe he’ll contact you about it!

I really miss you. I know it was such terrible timing for me to have confessed. Just two weeks before you had to leave. Ah I wish I could’ve done it sooner. Anyway, I hope you’re doing well. Don’t overwork yourself and stay safe, okay?

Remember, time square could never shine as bright as you. I know it’s cheesy but I’ll always say it because that was my best pick up line ever. Okay, now get back to work! I’ll see you soon! I’m counting down the days!

From, Seungkwan

Jun put down his arm that was holding the letter and looked at Seungkwan who was munching away the food on his plate, “‘Time square could never shine as bright as you?’ MAN, and I thought Mingyu was the cheesy one in our group.”

Glaring at the elder, he snatched the letter from his hand, muttering something under his breath. “It’s from a song. An inside joke you wouldn’t understand.”

Jun took a sip of his soda, sighing as he set the can on a coaster, “Well, whatever it is, cross your fingers in hopes that they mail you back,” He stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans, “I’ll take my leave, gotta go cleanse my apartment.”

Seungkwan nodded, looking at the letter in his hands. Of all the things, it had to be letters.

//

“Seungkwan, get up.” He mumbled in his sleep, trying to shoo away the intruder that was waking him up. “Seungkwan, have you gotten mail from them yet?” He groaned again, not aware of his surroundings as he rolled over, arm hitting a hard surface beside him. “Man, you really are a pain. Anyway, I have a letter for you.” Seungkwan shot up, squinting at Jun who towered over him in his bed.

“You have a what for me? I’ve been waiting for almost three weeks for one, did one finally come in?” Jun’s eyes widened, not realizing sooner that he didn’t receive a letter from you.

“Oh, uh, you see, um, I was just… kidding.” Seungkwan narrowed his eyes before making a frown and crashing back head first into his pillows. “Seungkwan, come on man. The letter probably got lost in the mail or something. You never know.”

Sitting up, he stared at what’s ahead of him; a bookshelf. The shelf had various books, photo albums, picture frames, etc. Mainly, it had a picture of the two of you hanging out the day he finally confessed — just two weeks before you had to leave. He doesn’t remember that night, though he wished he did after staring at the photo for so long now.

“Seungkwan! What are you looking at?” Jun leaned over, trying to take a glance at what his friend was eyeing, though it appears it is something that won’t make him feel any better. “Okay, enough is enough. You helped me during my break up, so I’m gonna help you through this letter drought, okay? Okay. Now, up you go!” Jun lifted the man from his bed, dragging him to the middle of his bedroom before plopping him down on the rug. “You're not gonna help me out Seungkwan? Come on, please.”

“What if they met someone,” Jun thought for a moment, hoping what Seungkwan said didn’t turn out to be true. He had to stay positive and make sure his friend does too.

“Hey, don’t think like that, okay? Now get up and wash up, we’re going to get food.” Seungkwan sighed, finally deciding to listen to his friend.

//

“Jun, I know you meant to go out to get food, but I didn’t think that I would pay for it AND we eat it at my place.”

“It’s the thought that counts, and thank you for paying. The food? Muah.”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes and put a piece of meat into his mouth, staring at the desk that was against the wall. He eyed the papers, pens, and pencils; a wave of sadness crashing over him. He couldn’t help but think that you actually had moved on. All the doubts he had in the beginning when you left resurfaced as he thought that maybe you just used him for those last two weeks you had spent with him. But why would you do something like that? It didn’t make any sense, but maybe Seungkwan doesn’t really know you.

“Hey, Seungkwan what’s the date today?”

“Not sure, why?”

Jun hummed, noticing that Seungkwan hasn’t been keeping track of the days recently, so he decided to keep this valuable information to himself, “No reason, just wasn’t sure.”

//

Seungkwan sat at his desk, thinking about how he should start the next letter to write. He used to write every week to you, but now he hasn’t written to you for over a month. He swirled the pen in his hand, attempting to gather words to form a sentence in his head. Finally, that imaginary lightbulb lit up, his eyes sparkling with ideas.

Hey there,

How’s New York City treating you? Have you taken care of yourself? Eating all your supplements?

Scratching his head, he scribbled on the paper and decided to use this as a rough draft and to rewrite it later.

How’s New York City treating you? Have you taken care of yourself? Eating all your supplements?

I don’t know what’s going on, but I hope you’re safe over there. It’s getting more and more difficult for me to go so long without seeing you and hearing your voice. I miss you.

He thought maybe it was too cheesy, or maybe he was so in love he couldn’t control it. Nope it was too cheesy.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I hope you’re safe over there. It’s getting more and more difficult for me to go so long without seeing you and hearing your voice. I miss you.

Taking a small sip of his coffee, Seungkwan closed his eyes, thinking about the situation he was in. He used to be so good at saying all the right words in his letters but now he couldn’t even find anything to say. He doesn’t even know if you're reading them or not. That hurt his pride a bit because of how much time and dedication he spent to write and think these out to send to you, only to not get a letter in almost two months. That’s the crazy thing about love; one would do anything for the person they love.

Snapping his eyes open, he checked the time only to find that it was no use because the clock was broken. The ticking of it irritated him and it always felt like it was getting slower and slower.

Focusing on the paper in front of him, he decided that if you weren’t going to send any letter, then he wasn’t going to either. It sounded like a great idea, but it was also bad at the same time. He didn’t know why, but he chose to ignore the bad part.

//

Jun could sense that Seungkwan was feeling a bit better than usual, but that's what freaked him out the most. Seungkwan hasn’t been this active ever since he got his first letter from you, so he guesses that his friend received a letter. Jun wanted to ask, but the fear of the thought not being true made him hesitate and not ask at all. He didn’t want to see his friend in despair again. After all, you are coming home in a few hours.

Seungkwan hasn’t felt like he has right now since a few months ago. It could be the weather, the feeling of the air, the food, anything. He just knows that today is a good day.

“Jun, what are we gonna do today? I’m feeling great so we should go out.” Jun pursed his lips as Seungkwan looked at his friend, waiting for an answer. Jun looked up in thought, but his mind just wandered back to his bed or the couch because he was feeling a lazy day.

“I don’t know, I’m not really in the mood to… go out.”

“Why? Are you feeling okay?” Seungkwan raised his hand to touch Jun’s forehead, only for Jun to smack it away.

“I feel fine, I’m just a bit lazy is all.” Jun thought to himself, thinking about how you’d for sure want to see Seungkwan and to talk to him about everything. Well, that's what he thinks and hopes. “Can we stay here for a bit and then head out?”

Plopping down next to him, Seungkwan turned on the TV, clicking through the channels before keeping it on one show. “Let me know when you want to leave.”

//

Seungkwan soon fell asleep on the couch, laying on his right side. Jun looked at him and then to the clock. He set a reminder on his phone before you left on when you would come back and what time.

It was currently 3:10pm and on his phone, it says you arrived at 1 o’clock in the afternoon. The airport is quite away and you probably are feeling tired after the plane ride, but Jun can’t help to look back every time he hears a car go by, hoping that it’s you to see Seungkwan.

He sighed, glancing at his sleeping friend before getting up and placing a blanket over him. He’s had it rough for the past couple of months, the thoughts of his brain eating him alive. Oh how he knew the feeling all too well.

Hearing a car door shut, Jun peeked outside, seeing you approach the house. Quickly and quietly, he opened the front door and closed it, meeting you halfway.

When you saw him, you immediately smiled, “Jun!” He raised his hand up to his lips, shushing you.

He began to whisper, “Where the hell have you been?” You eyed him weirdly, but shrugging as it was only Jun in front of you. “Do you know how much pain Seungkwan was in? He’s been waiting so long for you to reply.”

You were confused, “What do you mean? I was the one waiting for him to reply back to me. I came here to see what was wrong.” Jun sighed before signaling you to Seungkwan’s home.

“You go in. He’s asleep on the couch and will probably wake up hungry.” He gave you a soft pat on the head, “Glad to have you back, now I’m gonna go. Also, he’ll probably get mad, so don’t mention me.” You giggled before giving him a small hug.

“Thanks Jun.”

//

Seungkwan groaned, sitting up as he looked around the room, trying to spot Jun. Finding him nowhere, he sighed thinking about how he never went out. Turning to put his feet down, he lifted his arms to stretch, a yawn escaping past his lips. Mid yawn, he sees you at the doorway from the kitchen with a tray. He blinked a few times, not sure if you were really there or if it was just Jun. He rubbed his eyes as you came closer and set the tray onto the coffee table.

“About time you woke up, I’ve been here for an hour.” Seungkwan said nothing, his mind still thinking that this was all just a hallucination. He glazed over at the clock on the desk and saw that it was almost 4:30pm.

He heard you clear your throat, his mind now processing that you were indeed actually there with him in the same room. You began to walk around the small table, “I made your favorite soup,” Sitting down next to him, you looked into his wide eyes, “Why are you so surprised? I should be the surprised one here.”

Blinking a few times, he finally said your name. Lifting up his hand, he caressed your cheek lovingly as you smiled bitterly. But then he remembered how you never responded to him, and how you had the audacity to come into his home as if nothing was wrong.

He narrowed his eyes, taking his hand away from your face before standing up abruptly, “Why didn’t you mail me back?” Your eyebrows shot up and so did your legs, but wanting to one up him, you stood on the couch.

“I could ask you the same thing, Seungkwan! I haven’t received a single letter from you.” A shocked look flashed over his features as he looked up at you.

“What do you mean ‘haven’t received’ a single letter? I sent a few asking you why you didn’t respond. But what did I get? N. O. T. H. I. N. G.” You glared at him, not believing the words you were hearing. You sent so many letters with no information as to why he didn’t respond back to you.

“Really Seungkwan? You want to play victim?”

“Victim? I am the victim!” You scoffed, getting off the couch and walked around the table to put some distance between the two of you. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re accusing me of not responding when I did.” You rubbed your temples, pacing in front of him as you took small glances at his messy desk filled with crumpled papers. You walked over, picking up a ball and unfolded it, reading what he wrote before tossing it aside.

“I told you I wrote. And I did stop, I admit, but that was only because you never responded. I did write to you.” You looked at him, trying to think about what went wrong before an idea popped in your head.

“Seungkwan, what was the last letter you got from me?” He looked around his desk, scanning the messy area before pointing to the only neat pile. You picked up the letters, reading each date and word on the envelopes. However, you immediately knew what the mistake was.

You sighed and closed your eyes, biting your lower lip in frustration. Turning to Seungkwan who was sitting on the couch and eating the food you prepared, you debated if you wanted to hurt your pride by telling him what you did wrong.

He looked at where you were standing with the letters in your hands, as clear sadness in his eyes. You thought about the pain you may have caused him because of one stupid mistake. If only you got the address right.

“Okay Seungkwan, I know what happened, but hear me out.” His eyes narrowed, but he motioned you to continue, “So, when we write letters to each other, we put our address on it, right?” Nodding his head, he took a sip of the warm soup, “Well, the people I was working with moved me to a different department which relocated me to a different city which was far from my apartment.”

You watched his eyes, seeing the expression that tells you he knew nothing about it, “Yeah, you knew nothing because in the letter that I wrote to you, I put the wrong address. I put a 5 instead of a 6.” You looked down, too ashamed to face him and his hard eyes. Seungkwan was surprised, he didn’t know how to process the information, so all he did was laugh.

“I can’t believe how stupid you are.” You let out a soft laugh, hiding your face in the letters. “But I have a question still,” He tried to look at your face, but couldn’t see anything except your nodding, “If we wrote our address, why didn’t you just look at my old letters?”

Placing the letters on the table, you let out a loud groan, softly stomping over to the couch and sitting right next to him. Leaning against his shoulder, you sighed, “Like you said, I can’t believe how stupid I am.”

Seungkwan laughed, moving his arm to wrap around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You wrapped your arms around his torso, catching his familiar scent that you missed so much.

“Seungkwan?” He hummed, loving the feeling of having you in his arms again, “I’m sorry I got your address wrong.” He smiled, rubbing your back as a soothing gesture.

“I know. But just remember I’m never letting you live this down.”

[nancylou444]

HERE’S PART 1. I HATE TUMBLR I SENT IT THREE TIMES??? IM SO SORRY [screams] [cries]

// hey! it’s me again. thanks for giving me a tag of my own, i love it! your ask box is a nice place for me, because everything you say makes me happy. (somehow, i’m kinda weird) i’m here again to tell you something funny, and it’s that with the whole thing about the ‘russian dub’ i just...rolled my eyes. I ACTUALLY rolled my EYES because i’m starting to notice, thanks to you and other blogs, how weird and fake it all is… (1/?)

and there is some things i just can’t take. I started massively unfollowing a lot of people i noticed weren’t really peaceful shippers. I just wish I could ship in peace without being associated with THEM all the time. some people assume all destiel shippers are bad, and since the deancas tag is one of my top used a lot of people think that, and I’m tired. I wish that wouldn't happen. i wanna tell people from other fandoms like hey! i'm normal! but it doesn't work often. (2/3)

(3/3) anyways, just wanted to say that scrolling through your blog is like reading the morning newspaper. you’ve been a great support over these few months i’ve been on this place and it’s been great! I’m really considering sending you a private message some time now. see you soon! i might start coming around a little more often, tell me if that bothers you and i'll stop. sending kisses!

--------------------------------------------

No crying, darling. 💖💖💖 tumblr, you and I are going to have a little talk. Oh yes we are.

Hello darling. 😁

Oh yes, another dub has proven that DESTIEL IS CANON. Oh no, we have converted you. Shhhhh, I won't tell.

Any sane person would roll their eyes at hellers' claims that a DUB determines canon.

Oh yes, sweetheart, unfortunately, the hellers are so loud that those outside of the fandom think they speak for the entire fandom. Hell THEY think they represent the entire fandom, and nothing could be further from the truth.

LMAO, maybe I should include a puzzle and comic section.

Whatever you feel comfortable with, my darling. It's no bother at all.

Sending kisses back at you. 😘💕💕

[tiggymalvern]

I posted 1,163 times in 2021

33 posts created (3%)

1130 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 34.2 posts.

I added 912 tags in 2021

#hannibal - 238 posts

#fanart - 200 posts

#hannigram - 89 posts

#us politics - 79 posts

#photography - 73 posts

#pretty places - 65 posts

#meta - 57 posts

#will graham - 47 posts

#lol - 36 posts

#signal boost - 28 posts

Longest Tag: 109 characters

#it only becomes about politics because republicans would rather suppress voters than let them elect democrats

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

The Pornbots are Evolving

I've been followed by three different pornbots today. In every case, the first one or two posts in their dash were inocuous - landscapes or kittens. You had to scroll down to the second or third post to find the naked women fingering themselves or shoving their arses in your face. A new cunning plan is afoot!

11 notes • Posted 2021-07-28 04:48:24 GMT

#4

Amyiah described her experiences, first telling followers she was forced to “self-quarantine” due to “having the Covid-19 virus”. Hospitalised overnight because she had difficulty breathing, she posted again, this time a selfie in an oxygen mask. After receiving calls from members of the public, county health officials referred the matter to the sheriff’s office. It sent a deputy to the Cohoon household, where Amyiah’s parents were told to have her remove the post or the deputy would issue disorderly person’s citations “if not start taking people to jail”. In his ruling, issued on Friday, Ludwig wrote: “Defendants may have preferred to keep Marquette county residents ignorant to the possibility of Covid-19 in their community for a while longer, so they could avoid having to field calls from concerned citizens, but that preference did not give them authority to hunt down and eradicate inconvenient Instagram posts.” Good going, Wisconsin. So has the judge now ordered the arrest of the sheriff and the deputy for massive abuse of power and threatening innocent people with false arrest? If these people still have their jobs, WHY do they still have their jobs???

11 notes • Posted 2021-09-28 04:46:54 GMT

#3

New Year, new fic! Or maybe it's more of an old fic. It's both! War and Peace. Fandom: Gundam Wing Pairing: Duo/Heero, or 1x2x1 if we're going old style. That's two teenagers shagging each other, for those who don't care for that sort of thing. Summary: Duo Maxwell looks back on the war. And on Heero Yuy. Turns out he spends a lot of time thinking about Heero… This is the fic I started back in 2003, and then went back to and finished in 2020. It's also by far the most rambling, info-dumpy, monologue-y story I've ever written. Duo likes to talk and I never found a way to stop him. Canon compliant for the series, AU for Endless Waltz. It follows the story and emotional arc of the series, so you know what you're getting! Only the first chapter's up so far, I'll be adding more as I work through the final editing pass. Happy New Year!

14 notes • Posted 2021-01-01 17:16:43 GMT

#2

Title: Fulcrum Fandom: Tenet Word count: 3000 Rating: General Summary: He goes back. He builds Tenet. He recruits Neil. The ending is nearer than you think, and it is already written. All that we have left to choose is the correct moment to begin. Here on AO3.

16 notes • Posted 2021-06-01 14:37:23 GMT

#1

Hi. Ok do you know why Will imagines himself killing Molly (and even Alana in one scene) while taking the Red Dragon case? This never happened before with other cases, like in other seasons he slipped into killers mindsets but he never looked at people and imagined killing them. Seems like a plot point to make Will give up on his family, I wish his return to Hannibal was more organic and not just because other people were poisoned to him :/

I’m sorry it took me a while to get to answering this, Anon, I had a very busy week.

Season three wasn’t actually the first time we see Will imagining himself killing someone he cares about. Back in just episode three, he dreams of slitting Abigail’s throat, when earlier he’s been to visit her in the hospital trying to reassure her. Then he visits her house with her because she wants to go and needs to have people with her. Alana and Hannibal seem like entirely adequate emotional chaperones for that visit. There’s no need for Will to be there too, but he still goes, because he wants to help Abigail.

At that point, Will is showing the first signs of his encephalitis, waking covered in sweat, and we could perhaps attribute his imagining killing Abigail to a simple nightmare, if it wasn’t a thing that recurs again later, as you say, long after his encephalitis is cured.

So I think the question more realisitcally becomes, ‘Why does Will Graham sometimes imagine himself killing people he cares about?’ There’s never going to be a definitive answer for that, all we can do is speculate, so here I go, speculating away! I’m going to leave Hannibal out of my speculations, because Will does imagine himself killing Hannibal during the honey trap phase of season two, when we know he’s already falling in love with him, but at the same time he still hates Hannibal for framing him and having him dumped in a mental institution. The internal conflict there thoroughly muddies the waters, so I’m going to stick with Will’s visions of killing people like Abigail and Molly, people he only wants to protect.

I would say from the start that stress seems to be a triggering factor for it. Will imagines killing Abigail not long after the first time he kills someone, in the form of her father. We know from what Jack says that Will has been actively trying to avoid killing people, that he left the police because he didn’t want to use his gun. He’s long suspected that killing a person would unleash something within him, and now he’s done it. When Abigail says that she’s worried about nightmares, Will replies, ‘I’m worried about nightmares too.’ The thing that Will had been trying to avoid for at least a decade has finally happened, and he’s scared of where it will lead him. And sure enough, he’s dreaming of murder.

In the Red Dragon arc, the thing that Will has been trying to avoid for three years is Hannibal. He’s put that life behind him - he moved away, stayed out of law enforcement, married a lovely woman, and worked so hard at being ‘normal’. And then the thing he’s been avoiding happens - Hannibal is back in his world. Will tells Molly he’ll be different if he goes; once again he’s scared of where he’s headed. So there’s an obvious parallel there - Will imagines killing Abigail, and later Molly, when he’s having to face up to a reality that he’s been trying to ignore.

On the most basic level, Will imagines killing people because he wants to kill people. He’s known that about himself for a long time, which is why he was so determined never to do it. After he kills Hobbs, it’s not just a theory any more, he knows he likes it, and then the temptation to do it again becomes so much worse.

But in the real world, Will only wants to kill bad people. He wants to kill the murderers, the people who threaten and harm the innocent. He wants to be a protector and an avenger. He would never harm Molly, or Abigail. And I think the fact that he imagines himself doing that is a sign of his internal conflict.

Will Graham is scared of what he wants. He doesn’t want to enjoy killing people, even bad people. He was lecturing in a classroom to avoid any risk of violent situations, because he’s worried about the slippery slope. If he kills one person, he’ll want to kill more (he isn’t wrong about that). And I think that decent, moral part of Will is terrified of how far he might eventually go. If he starts off killing bad people, might he eventually end up killing less bad people? What if his urge to kill keeps increasing and he becomes one of the bad people who hurts innocents? I think it’s all part of his struggle with accepting the reality of who he is.

So any time Will Graham knows himself to be starting down the path of the killer - after he shoots Hobbs, when he goes back to investigating murders and discussing them with Hannibal - his mind shows him the worst case scenario, the thing he fears most in the world. The potential monster inside himself. And in Molly’s case, there’s the added guilt that Will knows he’s placing her in danger, because of Hannibal, a guilt that manifests in her imagined death at Will’s hands.

And so I come to the last part of your ask: I wish his return to Hannibal was more organic and not just because other people were poisoned to him

This takes us back to what is really the over-arching theme of Hannibal. It's clear that Will would never have chosen Hannibal as the love of his life. Will doesn't want to love Hannibal, any more than he wants to love killing people. But the facts don't change because they're inconvenient for Will's moral compass.

The world has effectively been poisoned for Will his whole life. He speaks to Hannibal of his isolated childhood, the boy who never fit in. He lives his adult life alone, surrounded by dogs, with acquaintances, not friends, because everyone around him considers him somewhat odd. His potential 'normal' romantic partner, Alana, has been avoiding being alone with him. With time, he learns to 'pass' as normal better, to the point where he can marry Molly and appear to be a typical family man. But that's what it is - an appearance. Will isn't fulfilled in that life. He wants to be, but he's not.

Hannibal is right for Will because neither of them fit in the 'normal' world, and the way they don't fit is the same. Hannibal isn't a show about Will accepting that he loves Hannibal - it's a show about Will accepting that he is who he is. And when he accepts the things he doesn't like about himself, only then can he accept that he loves someone who shares those traits.

Hannibal isn't the consolation prize for Will, because nobody else will have him any more. Hannibal has always been the only person who can understand him, and Will has known that for years. He just has to stop hating them both for it before he can decide to live with it.

(And it was all written by a gay man, and it's an obvious metaphor for growing up ostracised for being gay, and hating yourself for being gay, and having to accept and embrace gayness before you can accept loving another man, but that can go off on a very long tangent!)

58 notes • Posted 2021-02-15 15:42:20 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[mulletcal]

light outside - a calum hood blurb.

a/n: okay so @softbabiestan​ and i were talking about how poor cal seemed a lil down and i said maybe he posted that as a reminder to us and himself and this happened.  title is from the song light outside by wakey!wakey! that i listened to while writing. also i totally understand if no one wants to read this bc this is talking about the current situation going on in the world. but i also wanted to write something that was kind of a reminder to myself and u guys that this time isn’t for u to start the next big project, but for you to take care of yourself and those around you.  love u stay safe xoxo

word count: 1,022 words

warnings: talk of mental health, talk of covid-19

-------

At any given time, mental health is hard to keep healthy - with the turbulence of everyday, it feels like a struggle to tackle your to-do list, or see the ones you love.  This became especially difficult given the stay at home order that came into place in Los Angeles, due to the CoVid-19 pandemic.

You were grateful to be in a position you could work from home, knowing others were in a completely different situation that weren’t so lucky - and your heart hurt for those people, wishing there could be more to do other than staying home, and donating to local charities dedicated to feeding those less fortunate.

You knew you were also incredibly lucky to have someone to stay at home with.  Calum was an amazing companion, your days mostly filled with laughter, and what recipe you would attempt to butcher today.  The list of unsuccessful/gross things included: whipped coffee, making a vegetarian fried chicken sandwich from scratch, and making your own cashew milk - but there was always tomorrow.

In general, you both had been doing a good job at keeping your mental health up.  You took Duke on a walk up the street and back, trying to be mindful of each other’s space, and especially attempting to be outside as much as you could in Calum’s backyard.

Today though, you knew something was off.  Calum had been up before you woke up, and locked himself in his music room all day.  Even while you minded your space, you never hesitated to check on one another when either of you would put on the kettle for tea, but he hadn’t even been in the mood for that.

Figuring he would come to you if you needed, you made dinner for the two of you, setting his plate in the microwave with a short text to inform him.  He responded with a simple ‘Thanks xx’ .  You put on a random YouTube video on in the background, one you had seen hundreds of times before as you ate.  Duke would occasionally whine, and you thought it was because he wanted your food - but when you finished he was still whining, only content when you picked him up, cuddling him to your chest.  He must have needed some extra affection today, which was fine.

You could hear the faint, beautiful notes coming from the piano in his music room, smiling to yourself.  It could have been simply that he had an idea and needed to work on it until completion, as you knew he and the boys could never rest until an idea was from their brain onto a page (or a voice note).

The rest of your evening was spent curled in bed, casually sipping on a cup of tea as you scrolled through your phone.  You got a notification that Calum had added to his story, and your eyes lit up, expecting him to be posting a video of the music he had been playing all day.

Your expression faltered though when you saw him in the backyard, his eyes looking less than bright as he addressed his fans.  Calum was telling them to be easy on themselves, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if he was saying the words as an uplifting thing for the fans, or because he needed to hear them - or both.

It wasn’t long after that, that you heard the bedroom door creep open and his tall figure appeared.  

“Hi baby,” you said softly, your eyes turning to look at his face fully.

“Hi,” he mumbled.  Without another word, he climbed onto the bed.  Thinking he was going to come lay beside you, you went to shift over more so he had more room, but his large hands held you in place.  Calum ducked his head under your arms that had been holding your phone, burying his face in your neck.

“What’s goin’ on bubba, wanna talk about it?” Your fingers carded through his hair, listening to his breathing that was becoming more even by the minute.

“M’just havin’ a hard time lately - I can’t complain though, everyone is.” His words were muffled against your (his) hoodie, and you frowned slightly.

“Cal, just because other people are dealing with other things, hard things, doesn’t make your struggle any different- or your emotions less meaningful, you know?”

“I know.  It’s just hard when I feel like I should be being productive, but the most I’ve done in the last three days is eat and shower.” Looking up at you finally, you could see the sadness lingering in his beautiful eyes, and it made your heart hurt.

“You know you don’t owe it to anyone to be productive right now, right? All that matters right now is that we stay home, and take this time to relax or ease our minds.  This kind of thing didn’t happen so that we all stop what we’re doing outside to get tasks done around the house.” Your lips pressed against his forehead, fingers still placed in his blonde locks. 

“You’ve just been doing all the cleaning, and I hang out outside with Duke-”

“Hanging out outside with him is your job.  He doesn’t get to come visit you on tour as much as I do, so I think he’s happy to have you home for a little bit with us.  Your boy missed your cuddles today.”

As if on queue, the small dog was scratching at the post of the bed.  Calum had knocked over his doggy stairs in his haste to be in your arms, so Duke had no way to crawl into bed.

Pouting, Calum pulled back from you to pick him up and pressed a bunch of kisses to the top of his head, “I’m sorry my love, your Pops has been in a mood.  Tell me about your day.” To which Duke responds with covering Calum’s cheeks in his own kisses.

“We’re gonna be alright, yeah?” You cocked your head to the side as you looked at your boys.

Calum smiled for probably the first time that day, nodding his head, “Yeah, we’re gonna be alright.”

tag list:  @cals-wildflower​ @talkfastromance4​ @softbabiestan​ @roseycal​ @calum-uncrowned​ @boyfriend-cal​ @wildflowerirwin​ @irwindoll​ @gosh-im-short​ @atlcalm​ @thesubtweeter​ @heavenisapeach​ @ridingcthood​ @loveroflrh​ @wokeupinjapanisabop​ @softlylukes​

[wheelsup]

about the blog tag game

thanks for the tag @scandinavian-punk @suburban--gothic & @iconicc !!

Why did you choose your url?

well sure as fuck not for the wheels up scene.

Any side blogs?

@subspencer is my 18+ sideblog!

How long have you been on Tumblr?

recently, only since mid january. but my first tumblr account was when i was like 10, so 11/12 years.

Do you have a queue tag?

as of a week ago, i finally do. it's #b a queue.

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

because quarantine + criminal minds rotted by brain

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

again, the brain rot

Why did you choose your header?

because i am obsessed with space~

What's your post with the most notes?

part one of my coffee fic mini series!

How many mutuals?

i think just about everyone i follow is a mutual? so as many as that!

How many followers?

nearly 1.2k 👁👁 thanks guys

How many people do you follow?

167 blogs, but that includes everyone's main and sideblogs 😭like three of those are drey alone. so idk how many people that is!

Have you ever made a shitpost?

have you heard of the tag #ri screams into void, sometimes shortened to #rsiv? and let me introduce the special, late-summer-nights edition: #ri screams into void (after hours)

How often do you use Tumblr each day?

it is simultaneously always open and yet i am never paying attention. a mindless scroll.

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

hm. not like over fandom stuff

How do you feel about "you need to reblog this" posts?

depends on what it is (like if it is actually important for the present) and people shouldn't feel pressured to reblog the post <- same answer as yash! and i prefer to spread resources like that more on my other social media where i can see it making a direct impression on people i really know

Do you like tag games?

yes :) i just do them super late sometimes, and sometimes im so late that it's just weird to do them at that point.

Do you like ask games?

yes!! i dont think yall like it when i do them tho lol bc i spam the dash

Which of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous?

in my eyes you are all stars. also because i follow, in essence, 5 people and the same five are constantly on my dash <3 i have stockholm syndrome.

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

platonically, i am deeply in love with all of my mutuals. we are all holding hands.

tagging: @alltooreid @spencerreidat3am & @spencergubler ! sorry if y’all have already been tagged

[sunshineseung]

Content Creator Year in Review

tagged by: @bearseungmin :o thank you for thinking im interesting enough to do this lol tagging: uhhh idk who’s been tagged yet so if you’re a smaller creator and want to participate in this tag, feel free to do it and tag me so i can see it :)

2020 was a fucking mess but I finally started writing here on Tumblr so I guess it wasn’t that bad in that aspect, right? For real, thank you for the endless amounts of support on this blog! Ya’ll are insanely sweet and supportive and I’m glad I joined this community when I did, because I’m having such a good time interacting with ya’ll and writing my shitty stories. Here’s to another year of being horny for kpop idols and writing smut to satisfy the insatiable!

(year in review under the cut)

1. first creation of 2020 and most recent creation of 2020 first: Anniversary - This is the first smut I ever wrote... it kinda sucks now but ya’ll still seem to like it lol most recent: Gag Gift - I’ve been super depressed so this took like a month to release, but I also hated the first several drafts, but I’m happy with it now :) Startting 2020 with being horny for Seungmo and ending it with being horny for Seungmo. Perfectly balanced as all things should be.

2. one of your favorite creations from 2020  I’m gonna do three of my faves lol Sinner (Part One) - Ah, a classic. I went in on this one, and I really like the end result, and clearly everyone else did because dozens of people requested a part two! Royalty - Probably my favorite thing I’ve ever written in terms of stray kids smut, honestly. I’m just really proud of it lol Little Secret - Duh!!! This was my first planned series smut (sorry Sinner) and the reaction it got was just amazing. Thank you for the support on this little bitch of a story!

3. a creation you’re really proud of  R O Y A L T Y ^^^

4. a creation that took you forever  gag gift :’) but also it took me like 30 years to finish writing my NCT drabbles for SMM 100 so... that !

5. a creation from 2020 that received the most notes  i’m pretty sure my post with the most notes is my mark lee drabble, but if it isn’t... oops! Little Secret also got a bunch of notes, plus the OT8 stray kids things I made a few months ago... phew! ya’ll really liked those lol

6. a creation you think deserved more notes  ya’ll slept on my hendery in a maid cat outfit drabble and I will not forgive you for that TT

7. a new fandom you joined and a creation you made for it  I just became an nctzen in january of this year after being interested in them since their debut lol but i’m glad i’m an nctzen now because NCT 2020 is the highlight of my year (other than SHINee coming back ofc). I’ve linked to the nct smuts like 100 times already so just... scroll up lol

8. a creation you made that breaks your heart psycho because it’s breakup angst from when i was missing my ex which just so happened to occur while ‘00 line did their psycho performance lol thanks hyunjin for the fuel 

9. a ‘simple’ creation you really love  first kiss is my only not smut work on my blog and I still love it with all my dainty little heart :) ya’ll slept on this one too but i understand why. it isn’t smut so ya’ll dont care about it lol it’s alright 

10. a creation that was inspired by another one  movie night was inspired by a jisung cockwarming fic i read on wattpad, but i can’t remember what book it was in :( sorry! but it was just a short drabble that made my brain go brrr so i had to write a whole fic about it (and then someone else requested it so i HAD HAD to do it)

11. a favorite creation by someone else inhales any of these but also ... I think about this one like... DAILY ! Actual art right here ugh i just love king/royalty stories ig one of my favorite threesome smuts!!! johnny suh just does something to a girl, okay? subby lix owns my heart THIS FIC DRIVES ME CRAZY ARE YOU KIDDING ??? that’s all for right now but you can go through the whole fic rec tag and see what kind of kinky shit i’m into lol

12. some of your favorite content creators from this year @lovebini - I literally visit ems blog basically every day just to see what FINE ART has been posted. everything is just A+++ if you aren’t following her already, what are you doing? @hanji - you dont understand... I’m OBSESSED jokes aside, another blog I visit a lot ! it’s all just so good wtf  @mochinnie - everything is GOLD 10/10 highly recommend :) @nightshade-minho - definition of perfect. this mf dont miss! everything is incredible and just... so good! please! if you aren’t following already youre missing tf out! @hanflix - duh. duh! wha- duh!!! so good, so so so good! amazingly talented person writing on a gorgeous blog. literal perfection!  @binniesthighs - great username, great content! another blog where every story is high art that should be put in... a really good museum that i totally know the name of!  that’s all that i can think of right now, but i’m sure i’m an active follower on some other blogs that i’m blanking on right now since i usually just scroll through the stray kids smut tag lmao.

again, thank you for an incredible year! more content coming soon!