#me and bill ARE in love and no one can tell me otherwise <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[angiiepaniic]

YES THANK U we are IN LOVE

ficto selfshippers / selfshippers who take their ships seriously !!!

you are so valid!! its okay that you have a relationship with your f/o like this! its so wonderful that you have an actual, genuine relationship with your f/o :) they appreciate and love you sooooo much !!!!!

remember to keep ur chin up and know that its okay you take your selfship seriously. there's nothing wrong with being in love with a fictional character :)

[incognit0slut]

Devil’s advocate

Softcore Spencer doesn't feel any remorse when it comes to this strange arrangement involving sex. Neither do you.

Category: Smut (18+) Word count: 3.6k Content: fem!reader, dom!spencer, bratty reader if you will, implied age gap, unprotected p in v, spit kink, overstimulation, squirting, and kinda fwb or (more precisely) not-exactly-friends with benefits a/n: it took me more than 3 months to post again and it will probably take me another for the next post (kidding) (maybe not). try to imagine this spencer for a better experience

-

Spencer isn’t a good man.

A quiet verdict, a fault line.

A truth etched into the grain of his being that is unmoved no matter how many times people say otherwise.

He’s made a habit of the dissection — words, meanings, intent. A lexical autopsy, combing through every definition in the dictionary if it meant finding just one that could give weight to the well intentioned affirmations spoken by those who’ve shared his life through fourteen years of cases. From friends to mentors. From people he considers family. Even his mother has taken part in the exercise in her own way, quietly revising the definition of goodness to fit the shape of her son.

His love for her isn’t enough to convince him.

And he loves her, deeply, enough to bear the fragmented reality she clings to without complaint. Still, her confidence sounds like a desperate attempt to defend a virtue that, as far as he can tell, simply doesn't exist. Her faith in him is stubbornly rooted in wishes rather than proof. Pretty, fragile things wilting from reality. She doesn’t see the cracks hidden behind the glassy surface of his supposedly endearing charm.

Like most people never do. The brilliance of his brain blinds them. They think his mastery of facts or ability to weave information into careful answers is a reflection of some deeper moral foundation. Assuming that the man who can recite obscure case law from memory and deconstruct a lie with nothing but tone and syntax must also be someone incapable of harm. That someone who thinks in algorithms surely knows the difference between right and wrong and essentially follows it. Articulate, therefore righteous.

What lazy math that they run.

The truth, however, is far less romantic.

If there’s anything genuinely good left in him, he likes to believe it’s the act of waiting. Patience still sounds noble enough. It casts him as a silent benefactor, gifting others the space to sketch their own truths while he quietly collects their misconceptions and spends them like counterfeit bills.

He’s getting good at it, too.

Exchange his intelligence for wisdom.

Detachment for strength.

Emptiness for depth.

Little trades, so small and constant they almost feel natural now. As long as he keeps showing them the version they’ve come to accept, no one pauses to wonder if those long months locked inside his own head have carved him down to something less than whole. Selfish, perhaps, letting them cling to these illusions. But it’s a comfortable deception. They get the man they want, he keeps the truth to himself, paying nothing but time and silence for whatever reward comes from that carefully preserved silence.

After all, waiting is nothing more than delayed gratification, isn't it?

And this right here is what he’s waited for, to have you like this — warm and wet and dangling precariously off his bed.

A decadent reward for every second of restraint.

Purely carnal. Blasphemous in its perfection.

Your body curves at an angle that looks uncomfortable, a leg hooked over his shoulder, another barely hanging onto the edge of the mattress with the cool air licking your calf. Common sense tells him a complaint is warranted, yet not a murmur of discomfort escapes your pretty lips. You seem perfectly content to let him mold you into whatever shape he wants. Harmless, he insists, just a mutual indulgence between two consenting adults.

But morality has a way of souring sweet things — and maybe he should be ashamed.

Should be embarrassed at the way he finds satisfaction in this.

Should feel something other than pride watching your brows pinch together in pleasure.

Should care that he’s reduced to fucking you with all the desperation of a man who likes being selfish. It’s statistically uncommon for someone with his level of empathy, yet he stitches hunger into the tender curve of your body, scoring endless sensation with needles that prick and sting but never draw enough blood to slow him. Only if he distanced himself from you could he see the cruelty he’s gouging into the very seams of your skin.

He does no such thing.

He can’t. Not when he’s buried inside you like this, when your breath splits apart into fragile little pieces with weak fingers clawing at his back. Not when his selfishness feels bottomless, a craving so raw and wide and insatiable he's never dared give it a name — but somehow you seem to understand.

Understand what, though?

That he can’t help himself? That despite all the logic, all the reasons why he shouldn’t let himself have you, he does?

That he doesn’t regret it, not even a little?

No.

Good men don’t do this.

But you’re no saint either.

Innocence wears your face, but never fit so poorly. You’re trouble in its finest form — beautifully packaged, masterfully delivered with a smokey laugh that glides over the fine shiver pebbling across his skin as you offer a sly, “You’re getting sloppy.”

The smug little curl of your lips has his heart leaping in his throat, and he would have joined in your laughter if it weren’t for the way your breathless tone slithered into his ears. His brows draw together, sweat dripping down nose as he shakes his head to free the damp strands of hair clinging to his skin.

“Am I?”

“Mm.” You tip your head back against the bed, exposing the lovely curve of your neck. "Your age is starting to show.”

He finally huffs a laugh, lowers the leg hooked over his shoulder and trails up the inside of your thigh. “That’s not very nice.”

Your teeth briefly catch your lower lip.

“Neither is slowing down right when it’s getting good.”

“You think I’m slowing down?”

You faintly nod. “It’s actually cute how you’re pacing yourself. Should I be worried about your knees?”

That earns a sharp, almost affronted look before his palms grip both your inner thighs, followed by a sudden thrust that sends you back against the mattress. He thinks he’s regained some semblance of power over himself, until you let out a breathless little moan and continue to taunt him, arching your back with full insolence but only half the mockery. Docile in appearance alone when you’re flaunting your nipples in blatant invitation.

“That the best you can do?”

A hand flies to your breast, curling around the supple meat as he catches the stiff bud between his knuckles. “You’re acting brave tonight.”

“Sexually frustrated,” you admit with an exasperated sigh, rolling your hips. Urging him to move again. “Spent the whole day picturing you fucking me stupid and got exactly nothing.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

Nothing feels almost insulting considering how easily he coaxed you through his apartment.

He tries to bend lower, and sure enough, there’s something that feels suspiciously like age nipping at his lower back. A dull throb he quickly swallows as his mouth find your nipple. And toys with it, rolling the taut peak between wet tongue and wetter teeth, each slow suck a deliberate rebuttal that the way he’s been driving his cock into you for the past twenty minutes is anything but nothing.

Your fingers slip into the softest surface of hair.

“Fuck me harder.”

He turns his attention to your other nipple. “That still wasn’t enough for you?”

“If you have to ask, then clearly not.”

His mouth closes around you again, laps slow, teasing circles, all the while you grind your hips, shamelessly trying to fuck yourself with every delicious tug of his lips.

Instinctively, he starts rutting his hips in response. Little thrusts of his cock easing inside you inch by inch. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“I have every intention of finding out,” you counter, pulling him by his curls. “I know you can do better.”

His gaze touches yours.

You smile lazily.

“Go on. Show me.”

His eyelids dip in a slow, dangerous blink, and lets his nose brush the soft swell of your breast. Lingers. Smells the powdery scent of jasmine and honey consuming his senses.

What part of himself can he exchange this time? What currency of half-truths still has any value left?

The answer, adamantly, is etched in the narrow space of his mouth and your skin, a hush too charged to disguise. He doesn't think he owes you anything in counterfeit tonight. No borrowed patience. No repurposed kindness polished thin by repetition. The second you ask for more when he’s been giving you nothing less is the moment every polished veneer he’s spent years perfecting shatters like chipped glass.

So he gives you the one thing he’s never bartered — himself, stripped of caution.

Because no matter how many labels others slap on his name, you’ve never bought into a single one.

Not entirely. You catch the edges that don’t quite align, the rougher layers hidden beneath his careful composure. You see past the softness everyone assumes is the entirety of him, the reputation they’ve stitched together from fragments pieced carefully since he was an innocent young boy with oversized glasses and a penchant for knowledge.

Rationally, he is soft. He’s spent a lifetime wrapped in the belief that his gentleness is his sole trait. That it’s all he can embody.

But not with you.

With you, he's whatever he needs to be.

He's whatever he wants to be.

He pulls back just enough to watch your body seize around him, and drags his tongue over his chapped lips, tastes the salt of effort and the musky smell of sex before channeling what’s left of his energy into his core. Then fucks you harder. Shoving every inch back with a strangled noise of his own, savoring the tight pull of your dripping cunt. Relishing the slight roll of your eyes as he pushes deeper, harder, with a savagery that rips breathless whimpers from the back of your throat with each jarring thrust. 

Your moans ride every groaning hinge of the mattress, too, then linger, fogging the dark walls of his room as the wet slap of skin bounces off every surface. Stepping three beats out of time with reason, maybe more, for the way his eyes chase that music down the slope of your belly, following the trail of his thumbs over your mound, over your stretched folds, and pulls the soft skin apart.

His throat rises and falls in time with the motion of his cock — in, out, in, out. For someone so famously averse to germs, the streaks of your slick smearing across his skin outweigh every compulsion, so much so he pries you open even wider and lets a hot ribbon of saliva pool in his mouth. Watches it dribble over your clit. He’s nowhere near coherent enough to care about cleanliness when he can tell how much the slow trickle of his spit sliding down your swollen flesh — a foamy mess now resting heavily on his cock — only seem to intensify your thirst.

You squirm when he moves closer, fingers clawing around his wrist like you’re on the verge of asking for more but can’t bring yourself to say.

Stubborn, he's not surprised.

But he knows you well enough to understand the subtle shifts in your expression. He takes that slightly jutting lower lip of yours as a plea for him to give you what you need, so he smears the extra coat of lube over your clit and rubs frantically. Doesn’t bother to be gentle with it too, not when he’s seen how much you like it under rough hands. He’s proven right when he notices your muscles tensing up.

Your breath stutters. Your body jerks.

He rubs your clit with more pressure. “Good enough for you?”

You swallow thickly, blinking up at him through heavy lids. “Still—fuck—”

“What was that?”

“Still—think you can—do better,” you retort, hiccupping through your words. 

It’s beyond him that you’re still functioning. Your hair clings messily to your forehead, damp strands caught in a tangled halo around your face. Your cheeks are blotchy from where his stubble scraped across your skin, lips kiss-bruised and swollen and somehow still trying to get the last word.

You should be done by now. Boneless, reduced to little more than trembling limbs, yet you still have bits of reason floating around that mush he’s turned your brain into. There’s a spark of energy left to bait him. Foolish, he decides, but if there’s even a sliver of you left untouched, he’ll gladly take every fragment that dares to surface.

He wrenches off your body just long enough to fist his cock, dragging his bulbous tip through the sticky fluids down to the puckered hole beneath, then slaps himself through the mess. If it weren’t for your hips bucking shamelessly, he’d think he was wrong for indulging such filthy impulses he’s never dared to overstep. You can’t seem to discern whether the sharp throb is pain or pleasure, but your cunt flutters around emptiness and aches like it's grieving the loss of him.

One stroke after repositioning himself and he’s right back where you need him, hammering into that devastating spot that sends your pupils scattering upward, leaving nothing but the whites of your eyes. He pulls out and does it again.

And again.

And again.

And again, until he’s certain all your senses have braided into one indistinguishable pulse.

“Oh God,” you moan, trying to press your thighs together out of reflex, but his grip tightens as he pries them open once more.

You feel lightheaded. Your belly rolls, your cheeks burn, drool slips from the corner of your mouth. You’re so far gone you don’t even notice. Too wrapped up in the desperate drag of breath through your parted lips, too busy chasing the dizzy spark bursting behind your eyes. You’re nothing short of raw nerves, lost in the punishing rhythm that keeps tearing you open and stitching you together in the same brutal stroke.

It doesn’t take long for a high, agonizing squeal to wrench free from your throat as your orgasm barrels through you without warning. Steals your breath away, leaving behind only a splintered string of gasps and trembling cries that fall recklessly from your lips as his pelvis hammers into the curve of your hip bone.

And he catches every fractured syllable and synchronizes his thrusts to the quiver of your voice, or maybe he’s simply addicted to the jagged rise and fall of your moans — like a direct stroke to his ego, trophies he hoards greedily.

He ponders how many more of those rewards he can coax from you tonight, how many more heights your body can scale before it finally gives way. He assumes it’s too much to ask, yet the greedy pulse in his veins insists there’s always more shiver to claim, another breathless note to add to his growing collection.

It turns out to be unnervingly easy.

Your second climax arrives in the span of a single heartbeat.

The third steals in like an electric stab, splintering along your spine as he pins you down and pounds hard into you.

By the fourth, your cunt swells and clenches around him in frantic pulses, yet he’s still fucking you relentlessly as if one more keepsake will finally satiate his greed.

Your hand shake when you lift one to trace his bicep, though it ends up as more of a twitchy pawing than anything resembling grace before you blindly scramble up his shoulder, finding his damp mess of curls again. Its wild, humid knot of heat tangles between your fingers as the most wrecked little whine trembles in your throat.

“P-Pee.”

He blinks, straining to pluck your voice over the rush in his ears. The words barely register at first, but when they do, his own pulse comes apart in a hot scatter mess.

“Need to pee,” you fluster again.

And if that doesn’t unravel him to his bones, he doesn’t know what will.

He tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs. “‘S not pee.”

“What?”

The confusion in your voice is almost cute for someone who usually acts like they know everything. Adorable how you’ve been nothing but provocative all night, only to falter gradually.

“You don’t need to pee,” he rasps. The grip behind your knees tightens, fingers digging into soft flesh as he drives deeper with all the focus he can muster. He’s holding back by sheer will alone now, even when the familiar feeling of his balls growing taut creeps up, but that ache is a small price to pay when he’s painfully aware of what your body is capable of giving.

His cock strikes a deep, delicious spot inside you.

Rearranges your insides until you're wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck,” you croak. “I’m gonna piss your bed.”

“It’s not pee.”

His words barely register when your whole body winds so tightly that your face doesn’t even look like yours anymore. Eyes unfocused, spine bowing, throat bared. The muscles in your neck tighten like cords that it’s clear you’re still trying to fight whatever pressure you’re under.

“You need to relax,” he urges, finding your clit once again. Wide eyes flutter over intense brown orbs.

“Wait wait wait—gonna pee—”

“You’re gonna come again,” he corrects. He sees you puff out a long breath, which is nothing less strained than his own. “Female ejaculation, different glands. Less than—”

His words catch in a groan as your cunt flutters around his thickness.

“…less than ten percent of the fluid is even related to—to urine.”

Annoyed, you tug on his curls and whine, “This isn’t the time.”

“No better time than now.” His hips continue to buck into you with a sharp, hungry rhythm. “You’ll understand if you stop fighting it.”

“I can’t!”

“You can.” Thwack-thwack-thwack. “You will.”

The sound of his balls slapping against the wet cradle of your ass is making you delirious. Even more so when a warm, buzzing sensation sparks in your core and rushes outward, blooming into this intense prick that spreads across your lower belly with startling speed.

“Oh—shitshitshit—”

“That’s it, just breathe through your nose.”

His words falls on deaf ears. “I-I can’t hold it any longer.”

“You’re not supposed to hold it in.”

"I—wa—wait—Spencer!”

“Let it out,” he frets, and closes the last inch of space between you. Foreheads nearly touching, brows pulling together in quiet frustration. “Need you to trust me for once.”

“I don’t—fuck! I am NOT pissing on you—”

“Do it.”

“I can’t—”

“C’mon,” he prods. “Give it to me.”

You sniff a strangled sob.

“Do it.”

You claw at his hair once more, and any semblance of control that you clung to shatters immensely.

You try to follow his words and suck in a sharp breath. Lungs expanding, ribs flaring, and the rush of oxygen pouring into your blood sharpens every sensation to something blinding. A passage of whines pitches upward as his thumb swipes side to side over your tight nub while he slams into you. Once, twice, over and over — until a concentrated surge of pressure around his cock urges him to pull out.

Warm bursts of liquid splashes onto him. Streaks down his damp thighs, the flushed skin of his skin. Seeps deep into the cotton fabric of his sheets with muffled sounds as your heart thunders wildly in your chest. He doesn’t even try to fight the smile that pulls at his mouth the second your eyes flicker with disbelief, or the lazy circle his thumb traces around your sensitive, overstimulated clit. He’s too focused on the way your release continues to mark the bed he intends to sleep in.

"There it is,” he hums proudly, "knew you could do it."

He did. He knew this would happen the moment your breath stuttered into helpless little gasps, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality. His lust blooms unchecked, a fever behind molten eyes, something his vision can’t seem to outrun. Even as his gaze blurs over your dripping hole puckering around nothing, over the tiny bead of precum trickling down your cleft, he’s stunned into silence.

You’re a ravishing mess, and he’s never seen anything so pretty.

You’re on another level of divine that it makes something in his head tick just from the sight. His cock twitches helplessly as he unconsciously inserts himself back through the warm puddle of your flesh, and swears he can still feel you fluttering. Feels the tremor in your sweet, sopping cunt. Hears the faint splatter of droplets beating the sheets with every deliberate stroke of his hips.

He’s long since fallen behind in being a good man, but you certainly deserve something in return for listening to him. So he reaches out, cradles your face between palms that have never claimed to be gentle, and drinks deeply. Tries to steal back the breath you robbed from him.

Kiss, taste, repeat.

Touch, grab, repeat.

But it’s not enough.

He doesn’t think it ever will be.

The dopamine surge won’t last, a notion as clear as the haze of your sweat gluing to his skin. He’s even sure he could rattle off half a dozen papers about reward circuits and compulsive behavior, recite the exact millisecond window in which the pleasure centers will spike and fall. None of it matters when your mouth parts for him and your breath warms his cheeks.

He tries to catalog the way your pulse thumps beneath his thumb, the microscopic tremor in your lashes, the sweetness of carbon dioxide exhaled against his tongue. It becomes another unsolved equation, a tangle of variables his doctorate never prepared him to parse. There’s only the thunderous beat of his own heart and the simple, staggering fact that you’re here, giving when he has taken so much.

But there is no safe dosage of you that will let him step back unscathed. One hit becomes two, two becomes habit, soon habit feels indistinguishable from necessity. An addiction he can’t refuse when it would only mean denying himself the only thing that makes him feel alive.

And if that makes him weak, he might as well be weak for you — again and again until there’s nothing left of him that doesn’t carry the imprint of your name. To ruin or to worship, it makes no difference to him.

He’ll fall to his knees just the same.

Your pulse begins to settle into a calmer rhythm in the hush that follows, and he scatters small kisses along the corner of your jaw, up the sweep of your cheekbone, pausing at the hinge of your lips. The gentle weight of his mouth has you shifting along wet sheets, every muscle tensing at the unexpected softness threaded through his touch.

Tenderness, in your world, feels foreign. Unfamiliar. Ill-fitting. And truthfully, he isn’t much better when it comes to you. Sharper tongues seem to be the better fit for two people who know how to fight more than they know how to surrender.

His lips skate beneath your chin instead, slides along the sweat slick column of your throat and hums, “Think you can do that again?”

Avoidance. It’s the language you both speak fluently.

The stiffness in your body bleeds out with your next exhale.

“…depends on your skill, old man.”

That's it. He can take another one of your barbed little comments. Another sly jab delivered with that pretty pout of your mouth. In fact, he finds himself almost craving it. Your taunts fuel the heat beneath his skin as much as they test his patience, and patience is something he's mastered after all. So he continues to grind his hips. Rubs the tip of your clit with the fine coarse of hair dusting his belly before you’re writhing again.

Peculiar, how easily his selfishness devours reason. Logic. Decorum. How quickly a man who’s built his life on discipline can find himself unraveling for something as simple and devastating as the way you gasp his name.

A good man would’ve stopped at the soft mist pooling in your eyes.

Spencer keeps going.

"If a God is a dog and a man is a fraud then I'm a lost cause." Devil’s Advocate—The Neighbourhood

[synvil]

Starting Out // VID : 001 » Viewing Pleasure (( Camgirl! Series ))

a/n : sorry for the wait! i had to figure out how to get started tbh and i really didn’t think id get such love from everyone!!! <3 it means so much. hope you guys enjoy! taglist at the bottom!

synopsis : you start your adventure as the next camera girl streamer online, and receive an unexpected surprise on your first stream.

series masterlist : Viewing Pleasure

“You can’t do this, [Name].”

You heave a sigh as you readjust the camera on your monitor, managing to have saved up enough to afford one to finally get this started.

This idea has been in the works for a while, you attempting to split every cent you could save between bills and buying the equipment you needed to begin streaming, and finally you were ready.

JJ doesn’t receive an answer from you and he huffs before walking over and grabbing your wrist to stop you. “Come on, [Nickname].”

“JJ, it doesn’t hurt to try, okay? I need the money, otherwise i’ll be homeless within a month.” You defend yourself as you pull away from his grip and continue to adjust until the monitor displays the proper position. You break into a smile and go to adjust how close and how far you can make the camera go and JJ shakes his head.

"What if I gave you the money? I can lend you some if you need, Kie and JB made me start saving and-" You snap to him with narrowed eyes. "No way, J. I'm not taking your money, I don't want to owe anything."

The blonde just crosses his arms as he watches you look at yourself through the monitor, with him in the background.

“I think this looks good.” You plaster a grin but JJ heaves a sigh at you. You clearly weren’t gonna change your mind. He goes up to you and places a hand on your shoulder. “Okay, i’m telling you this as a friend, but [Name], this is a bad idea. You don’t know what kind of creeps are on the internet and even worse, once your body is on there, there’s no going back.”

It was sweet how concerned the blonde was for you but you were starting to get agitated at his persistence.

“Don’t you think I already know that, J?” I scoff as I brush off his hands. “Like I said, I don’t have a choice here, man, I’m about to be evicted. I heard some of the kooks talk about this and i’d figure i’d give it a try, so please let this go, okay?”

Whether it was the determination in your tone or the desperation in your eyes, it causes him to falter for a second and JJ pulls back slightly, taking a step back with a small nod of his head. “..alright, i get it. fine.”

You watch him carefully, not wanting to let guilt take over you for snapping at him like that but he seems to understand enough and you force your eyes away and back to the camera.

You do some last minute touches before making sure your profile was settled before starting to prep for your first stream.

JJ stares at your figure from behind, silent and in thought before he heads to the door. “.. I’ll see you later, [Nickname].” He says before shutting the door and you flinch slightly at the slam before exhaling softly.

If only you knew.

Fresh out of the shower, shaven and smooth, You adjust the clothes on your body before leaning back in your chair. Double checking your camera again, you take a deep breath. “You got this.. you’re just starting out..”

You wore a white button up that was left unbuttoned and just a cover up for your shoulders, and a black laced bralette underneath. Pairing that with a midnight blue spandex shorts as well. It wasn’t too modest but wasn’t too showy for your first stream.

Makeup was done, going for a natural look.

Mic was okay, picking up sounds good enough for you.

And you were comfortable in your chair and your room, having already cleaned up the background for aesthetics.

You had already written up a tier list of your donations that people could do for requests, aside from random custom ones, which you left on screen for people to see. It wasn’t anything too unreasonable and you were able to adjust anytime. So hopefully viewers would enter the stream soon.

With one press of a button, the camera begin to blink red, and you were now live.

Lips curl into a small smile at the sight and you watch yourself as slowly, one by one, viewers tread in.

“Hi, everyone..”

You fidget with one of your perfectly manicured nails for a minute as you wait and think about what to say.

“So.. this is my first stream, I won’t do anything crazy for today.. i’m just starting out after all.” It felt a bit embarrassing, you weren’t sure what to do and if you wanted to show your face in the first place, but you just reminded yourself of the potential threat of eviction and pushed through.

“New face? What a cutie~”

“You’re so beautifullll <3”

“Hot af”

Even though you knew these were potential creepy old men who were watching you, the praises still felt a bit nice, and if you were lucky enough, it wasn’t people near you.

You smile sweetly for the camera and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you for the compliment. I hope you don’t mind my outfit choice.” You glance down at your torso, your skin and stomach exposed because of the bralette which tightly held your breasts together with great lift.

You hug your arms a little which accentuated them more, and comments and viewers began to flood in faster.

“So hot 🔥”

“take the shirt off bbg”

“shit you look good affff”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your glossy lips at the reactions you get, a faintest blush warming your cheeks and eventually small donations began coming in. “Thank you~!”

"u single?" "fuck, a new girl to jack off 2" "'Anonymous' donated $10. ur so sexy" "@oldpervdude donated $30." "@KookTopper donated $300. 'You're so hot.'"

"Wow, thank you so much for all the donations, you're all so sweet." You can feel the excitement building up at the prospect of being able to afford this month's rent. "And thank you, @KookTopper~"

Fortunately within the flood of perverted compliments, there were a few that were asking questions about you, which you happily answered with relief.

Sitting behind his desktop mindlessly, a certain kook was scrolling through the internet and his social media, when a friend sends him a message.

His phone buzzes on the tabletop, making Rafe pick it up to read the notification. It was from Topper Thornton. ‘Fuck, Rafe, look at this. Click the link I just sent.��

"www.camgirlstreamers.com/[Name]/synvil.obxlive"

Rafe furrows his brows at the link as his thumb presses the button and it wires him to a streamers website, immediately to a live stream where a girl is currently on screen with her top sliding down her shoulders, the hem of her spandex riding up her thick thighs. The sight makes Rafe taken back, his lips suddenly becoming dry as he listens to the sound of her adorable giggles.

"Fuck.." On the side of her streams were her social media links, so after transferring the link to his desktop while he used his phone to go through her social media.

"[Name].." Her name rolled off his tongue as he murmurs it in the private of his room. He scrolls through your photos on IG, seeing your beautiful smile in a lot of them and various photos of your interests and hobbies.

Now, Rafe wasn't really one to be interested in camera girls, usually preferring the real life, in person experience instead, but lately, none of the women in all of Kildare was really attractive to him. He was starting to get bored, but this?

The curve of your breasts, the innocence of your eyes and the sexy plump thighs in those spandex that left much to his imagination of your ass.. it made him excited.

"Now.. how the hell do I add my card on here?.."

"Ugh, those disgusting bastards.."

A particular dirty blonde has been watching a live stream since it began, and reading the flood of comments talking about the girl's body filled him with disgust.

But what was worse, was that he felt the exact same way. "Shit.. you look so fucking hot, [Name].."

JJ stares intensely at the screen of his phone, watching you tease the camera by sliding the button up down your shoulders a bit. He sighs a bit breathily, contemplating for a moment but then the next second, adds his credit card information into the site without hesitation.

If she wasn't going to take his money, he'll just find another way to help you out. Besides, this benefits him too. And he was willing to spend every penny.

As you talk to your viewers, teasing them a little by stripping yourself of your button up leaving you in the bralette and spandex, your phone buzzes. You pick up your phone and furrow your brows. It was from Instagram.

'@TheKookKing has followed you.'

"Hm.." You shrug it off for a minute and set your phone down, looking back to your stream.

You hum softly, having discarded your button up to the side already and in just your bralette and shorts.

“@TheKookKing has donated $1000”

“Mmh, a new donation? Let’s see here.. o-one thousand dollars? from @TheKookKing.. wow, thank you so much. And thank you for the follow on IG, if you’re the same person. If you guys haven’t already, my social medias are linked on the side of my profile.”

As you take in the notification that pops up at the top of the chatroom, the message follows after.

“Be a good girl and sit on your knees in front of the camera.”

Your eyes widen at the demand as a small flush overtakes your cheeks. "Oh.. sure." With a donation like that, you almost couldn’t refuse, as you do what it says and move your chair aside, getting onto the ground and on your knees.

The position causes your spandex to rise up your thighs, exposing your skin further.

Just then, another message pops up. A donation of five hundred dollars from @ThePogueMechanic.

“@ThePogueMechanic has donated $500”

“Fuck— now open your legs wide for me, princess.”

The warmth spreads on your cheeks at the request and you do it, the tight spandex stretching as you sit on your knees with your thighs wide. It shows off your camel toe, revealing your lack of panties.

The chat quickly spams and floods with various emojis and the viewers going crazy.

"Oh so hot"

"🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥”

"SEXY GIRL FUCK"

"Anonymous donated $50."

"@TheBarracudaMan donated $100."

However when another message pings, it isn’t directed towards you.

“Fuck off, Pogue. She’s mine.”

“Screw you, Kook. Princess belongs to me.”

"H-Hey, let's not do that, okay?- Why don’t I distract you?" You say, hoping to alleviate the situation, not wanting to cause any issues on your first stream. It seems to have worked a bit and you decide to change the subject by biting your lip and ignoring the redness of your cheeks as your hand travels down your body.

Your fingers meet the heat between your thighs and you rub your clit through the thin fabric of your spandex lightly.

And quickly the chat changes once again, and the two viewers who were briefly fighting in chat, were now shut silent behind their computers.

“Anonymous has donated $80”

“Anonymous has donated $25”

“Anonymous has donated $5”

“@KookTopper has donated $200”

But considering this was only your first stream and you were already feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed, you quickly stand up. The spandex had ridden up, the sudden movement also causing your breasts to bounce lightly as you lean forward. "U-uhm, I think this is all for today. I'll come on again soon, thank you everyone. See you next time." Your face was out of view and you shut off the stream.

And the two men behind their screens share the same thought, the memory of you rubbing your pussy through your shorts engraved in their memories.

"Shit."

a/n: ahhh so glad to finally get it done, I hope it reaches your expectations!! thank you so much for the support! and also, I really appreciate the patience. and do not worry, im working on the next chapter already :)

sorry if it seems so abrupt and rushed, it’s also not proofread.

taglist : @haruvalentine4321 @lilithblackkk @sleepiibunniiii @kiiyomei

Synvil™️ Do not copy my work.

[missnancychavez]

So I am on my third rewatch of Twisters. So here are some of my own personal headcanons and theories for the movie and some parallels that may add weight to those theories.

1. The original 5 friend group dynamic: Jeb and Praveen have known each other for years and are each others best friend. Javi and Kate are the dynamic duo (basing it on the fact that they were the only ones to do the handshake together). And Addy is everyone's little sister. Her and Kate were extremely close, but in a different way than her friendship with Javi.

2. Tyler Owens is the nephew of Bill and Jo on Bill's side (As we knew Jo didn't have any sibling). He spent his summers with them as a kid, and then as a teenager, he moved in with them full time. He started chasing with them around then, too. He even pays homage to that as he is driving a newer model of Bill's red dodge ram.

3. Boone and Lily have something going on. The way Boone screams her name as she gets picked up by the wind. And their personalities are perfect together. You can't convince me otherwise.

4. Kate and Tyler kiss in the truck after the chase they go on straight from the airport at the end of the movie. (Refer to point 8)

5. Kate puts in her resignation almost immediately, and Javi cuts ties with Riggs and Scott. The wranglers and Kate join StormPAR. Kate and Tyler spend the off-season working with Javi while the others do their own gigs, but during the storm season, they are all chasing and gathering data.

6. Cathy is so encouraging of her daughter because she's been through loss before. They called her Mrs. Carter, meaning she was married. Kate's dad died when Kate was a little girl. Cathy had to learn how to navigate being a young mom and tending a farm on her own. But she also knows that it could stop her from living her life. So she didn't. She grieved, and she learned to live with the grief and still do what she loves. It's why she is so encouraging of Kate getting back out there.

7. Kate stayed in OK for another couple of weeks after the tornado (neither her nor Tyler appeared injured in the final scene, and the truck looks great, all things considered, so clearly they had time tp heal and fix the truck.) They all were forcibly invited back to the farm by Cathy after Tyler and the wranglers went to drop Kate off post El Reno. Cathy took one look at Tyler and forced him in the house. Kate gave herself a headache from laughing so hard. She was then sent inside alongside him. Cathy made everyone stay for as long as they needed. But she did, however, get some free labour from it. It was an unspoken agreement that Kate's was now home base.

8. By the credit scenes, Kate and Tyler are together. Their first kiss was immediately after the two of them went chasing from the airport. Something about their adrenaline rushing, and it being just the two of them. It was electric. It was immediate. It just happened, and when they pulled back, they both started laughing. It reminded him of the first time they chased together, just the two of them. Kate delayed her flight for another two days. She was back home within the month. Tyler quickly realised he would have to start bribing Boone afterwards on the days he and Kate went out.

9. Kate and Boone will play card games at night to see who gets shotgun the next day, when Boone isn't riding with Lily, of course. Turns out, Kate's damn good at playing poker. On the rare occasion that Kate drives, Boone automatically hops in the back of the truck. He won't tell anyone, but he loves it when she drives. She gets this manic energy about her in the drivers seat and his adrenaline always ends up pumping. Tyler loves it, too, but he has no qualms verbalizing his affections toward her.

10. Tyler has nightmares now. Of watching Kate drive into the tornado. Of finding her body, discarded and broken by his truck. Of her slipping through his fingers during a storm. He wakes up sweating and panicking. And it's only when he sees her that he can calm himself down. The two of them, those first two weeks after El Reno, would spend hours each night, sitting in the barn, going over formulas. Or sitting outside on the tree swing, talking until they were both too exhausted to have any nightmares. When she left to go back to New York, she wasn't particularly surprised when one night she awoke to her phone ringing, Tyler close to having a full blown panic attack as he tried and failed to reassure himself that she was okay without her help. They would always call each other before bed after that, usually falling asleep over facetime.

[emblazons]

It’s the way leaving the st fandom daily discourse only to see the recent spoilers has given me the confidence to say the thing I could not say 3 years ago: Mike and El have been fated for disaster since day one—but it’s one of those “wow this was a defining relationship for me in its power and means of propelling my growth as a human” ft. appreciation that you remember for life despite the relationship dying and not a “wow we are bonded for life and should stay together because we’ve been through so much” ft. love (romantic or otherwise)

Like? Anyone older than 25 can tell you about that one person in their teens who they “loved so much” but that time and maturity and actual, lasting love made abundantly clear was just naive infatuation; fiction genres over (from E.T to La La Land) tell that story. That’d be true for those two even if the Wheeler boy wasn’t gayer than a three dollar bill ft. the byler plot—just look at the characters M&R compare them to in other fiction and you’d know that. Elmike have more in common with Hogarth and The Iron Giant than they do romantic couplings—down to her ass being ‘Superman’ 😭

[kohakhearts]

goh parentified child syndrome. go(h)

my time is here at last. thank you for enabling me <3 apologies for taking months to finish writing this giant post!

welcome to my dissertation on this fucking Dynamic <3

ok! first thing, let's establish our criteria for Parentified Child Syndrome. this is obviously not like, an actual diagnostic Thing, but there are a million and one articles out there for us to look through. so i did the tough work of scouring those to find some Symptoms we can use as anchor points here. a lot of this is split into "emotional" (parents seeking comfort from their children, rather than comforting them) vs. "material" (parents assigning their children responsibilities that are not age-appropriate (e.g. grocery shopping, paying bills, etc.)) needs, but for simplicity i'll just merge them together - because realistically, they often go hand-in-hand. so the primary symptoms we'll work with here will be:

disruptive childhood behaviours (particularly at school)

stress and anxiety

reluctance to participate in play/age-appropriate activities with their peers

difficulty acknowledging and accepting one's feelings

insecure attachment styles

need to feel "in control"

distrustful of others/self-reliant to a fault

absenteeism and poor performance in school

passive communication style

the other obvious prerequesite here is the family dynamic. so let's dissect that one a bit!

goh's family situation isn't actually like...100% clear. but i have analyzed every episode where his family is even mentioned like it's my full-time job and i have no reason to believe his grandmother actually lives with him. so in the scope of this essay, i am assuming that she lives nearby, and most likely has a key to the apartment, but does not live with them.

otherwise, we are given enough context to assume that camille and walker have been busy with work goh's entire life (though i'd choose to believe for my own sanity that in his infancy his mother at least wasn't working...though given the type of job she has, that's actually...kinda hard to say for sure). we can also assume that they've at least been self-employed for the majority of his life. it's clear that they are fairly well-established in the city/in their field by jn, and since goh is supposed to be 10 at this point, it makes sense to me that they've been building that company up pretty much his whole life.

in terms of the work they do, goh tells ash, my dad is a system engineer and my mom is a programmer. they run a company together. granted, we don't see very much of their actual workplace, but what we do see is completely void of other people. as in, camille and walker do all this work BY THEMSELVES.

nothing in the anime otherwise disputes this! if anything, goh's explanations of his parents' lifestyle just reinforces it. he also suggests that during periods of harsh weather and heavy system use, his parents are busier than usual. this implies that they are most busy during holidays. this is actually further implied by the flashback in jn015 where they explicitly say to him that they're sorry for having to work through the holiday. his reaction, being completely unengaged, not even really even acknowledging it, tells us that this is the norm.

however!! he also shows off a special device to horace in jn032 that he says his parents made specifically for him, to help him learn more about mew. this suggests that they must have some amount of free time to dedicate to him...but they show their love for him through material gifts related to their line of work (his computer set-up, too; he tells scorbunny that his parents set it all up for him).

otherwise, we see camille and walker privately share their concerns about goh (a clear awareness that he doesn't have many friends, concern about him being lonely because of them, etc.) but never actually confront goh with their concerns or appear to go out of their ways to do anything about it. i wrote a bit about this and the symbolism of having him catch a cubone of all pokemon in the episode we're introduced to his family here but the tl;dr is that camille and walker demonstrate care for goh to each other but not to him - presumably to compensate for their physical absence, we get the impression he's given a lot of freedom and little to no discipline.

which brings me to the first criterion:

disruptive childhood behaviours (with a side of absenteeism, which presumably contributes to poor performance in school)

goh's school life is obviously inconvienent to the plot progression, so for narrative purposes the writers have him just not go to school. in jn049 we get the explanation that goh had made a promise to their teacher to show up to school for tests...but the weird thing about this scene is that chloe's surprised by it:

since in jn001 and jn002 we see that chloe is goh's only point of contact amongst his schoolmates and that she hand delivers schoolwork to him at her dad's lab, the only way this exchange really makes sense to me is if it's a new arrangement. even the fact that goh makes a point of saying "hey, i followed through, go me" to their teacher here gives that vibe.

so, we can extrapolate from that that...prior to whenever this agreement was made, goh just didn't go to school because he didn't want to. but given how schools operate, we can pretty safely assume his parents are aware of this. and i have strong reason to believe that they have at least been on the receiving end of phone calls from teachers or administrators, because of these lines from jn015:

all things considered, this is a weird assumption to make, especially about your hyper-independent introverted child...unless there's a history of disruptive or unfriendly behaviour to inform that assumption. and based on goh's behaviour in jn001 at professor oak's pokemon camp, i don't think it's so out there to say the pattern probably was there.

goh is actually a super sweet kid towards his parents and has a clear admiration for them both. even in flashbacks, his whole thing is kind of like...he doesn't want to bother them. they fall asleep on family vacation and don't spend time with him? well, that's fine! he'll just find something else to do! in that same episode in the flashback sequence, they pick him up on the side of the road alone in the pouring rain and he doesn't say a word to them. even though he was angry and upset before.

so, yeah. i think it would make a lot of sense if he were well-behaved at home and not so much so at school. but camille and walker, even when they learn about things that happen, don't seem to probe or discipline him. whether because of any combination of giving him leeway out of guilt or of not wanting to encourage him to act out at home, we don't know. but the disconnect obviously exists.

which then contributes to

stress and anxiety, difficulty acknowleding and accepting one's feelings, and passive communication style

goh is socially awkward, yes, and clearly very anxious socially especially early on in jn, but a lot of that seems to come from an inability to express his wants and needs. i think jn003 has some of the most succinct examples of this - ash having to realize he's struggling and to reach down to him when they're climbing the tower in order for him to even accept that he can get (and needs) help getting up, and then later one when he stumbles over his words trying to ask ash to be his friend.

i think another good example is in jn007, after he gets knocked out at the flute cup. passive communication relies a lot on shifts in body language and in, well, passive statements. when ash approaches him to tell him to cheer up, goh doesn't actually really...respond to that. he does this

and then runs off. which he does fairly often, actually, even as late as jn135. it's emotional avoidance 101. literally just run away from the thing that's bothering you. something else we see in jn135 is him backing out of admitting he wants to go on a journey - because he is concerned about ash's reaction (though i think it's a little more complex than that, but i'll circle back to that).

and of course there's jn062, which i wrote a lot about in this post. but the whole thesis of the episode is that goh has learned through his relationships up to this point that it's okay to not understand your feelings but you still have to feel them. and it's actually a really beautiful character development moment for him, but also reinforces the fact that he still doesn't know how to grapple with his own emotions. after finally finding drizzile and explaining how he knew he would find it there, he starts to cry and doesn't know why. but even aside from feeling vulnerable, it's kind of a culmination of this stress he's been carrying with him throughout the whole episode...and the sense of responsibility he feels for driving drizzile away. which is a great segue into

insecure attachment styles and need to feel "in control"

if there's one thing i feel like people sleep on regarding goh's character, it's how much of a mother hen he is. he's obviously very thorough and thoughtful when it comes to looking after his pokemon - as in jn062 where he spends all that time chasing down drizzile after it runs away, even to the point of telling ash and chloe that they should stay behind because it's getting late but that he's going to keep looking - but he's the same way with ash.

off the top of my head, things like buying extra scones because he knew ash would want them, making ash wash his hands after eating ice cream, chastising him about punctuality, you know...very parental kind of things. he actually does it with horace too, when they first meet, by bringing a lunch for them both when he goes back to the forest to meet him again.

anyway, being a Mom Friend is cute and all, but it also REEKS of parentified child. taking on responsibilities that aren't yours to fulfill? yeah. that's a need to feel in control. it's what he's used to! it offers him security!

the other side of this is...chloe. goh's first friend, who he refuses to consider a friend, or let consider him a friend. but, like, she obviously IS his friend. and yet our introduction to them gives us this exchange

goh and chloe have a pretty tense relationship at the beginning of jn, wherein she is clearly trying to help him (by you know. getting his homework for him and shit) and he blows her off in a text message, which she complains is a repeating behaviour. chloe is obviously very loyal to him, even though he doesn't seem to repay the favour. again, there's a big disconnect here.

insecure attachments generally stem from anxiety over potential rejection and/or poor self-esteem cultivated in childhood based on parents’ emotional availability (or lack thereof) to their children. by keeping chloe an arm's distance away, goh keeps himself safe from the dangers of vulnerability, taught to him through childhood encounters with emotionally unavailable parents.

i'm not here to armchair diagnose (ok, who am i kidding, yeah i am), but i think goh's attachment style is anxious-avoidant. his clear avoidance of making friends, the multiple times we see him break off his friendship with ash only to minutes later be like "me and the bestie"...yeah, that's avoidance. but he does crave intimacy, arguably even more than he fears it.

hence why even though he knows ash would want him to journey on his own...he still convinces himself that actually telling ash that would be, as he calls it, a "betrayal of [their] friendship." my theory is that he's not concerned that ash will be upset - he's concerned that ash won't be upset enough. which is why when then ash turns it around on him and says he's going on a journey, goh gets upset and pushes him away. he does the exact same thing with horace when they're younger. just a complete 180 - he wronged me once, so he's the worst and i can't forgive him, ever.

the difference with chloe is that she actually takes care of him more than he takes care of her - which changes the dynamic from "i have to do everything to keep this person in my life, including suppressing my emotions for their sake" to "i cannot express to this person that i have needs and desires because they'll think i'm too much and they won't stick around if i do." which is primarily avoidant, but insecure attachment nonetheless.

this is extrapolation, but i think his relationship with chloe is so different because we are supposed to get the sense that they have a more familial dynamic. so, she's the one person he can't push away from him - but as he learned in his actual family dynamic, he also can't be too close to her. he doesn't want to be smothered; he doesn't want her to feel smothered by him. so they maintain a degree of separation that only begins to go away after her father begins literally housing and feeding him, thus integrating him and ash into their family in some honorary way.

which brings me to the last point, i guess, which is

reluctance to participate in age-appropriate activities with peers and self-reliant to a fault

these are, i think, the traits that jn is most blatantly attempting to better in goh throughout his arc. so i won't spend too long hashing it out, because i think these are things we all know he struggled with!

in flashbacks, we see him alone at school; during the first episode, at professor oak's camp, he is always physically distanced from the other kids and chloe even points out that he's basically doing professor oak's job at one point! he's not on the same level as the other kids and it's clear he doesn't want to be. when he meets horace, we see that it takes him some time to get comfortable enough with him to go explore the forest together and become friends.

he doesn't go to school, but that doesn't mean he isn't learning things - he becomes a very self-directed learner early on, from what he see. he's not just like...rotting in his room playing video games. he's studying and researching. the only times aside from with horace that we see him in a flashback doing something that isn't solitary is with pokemon - and even then, he's like...reciting their pokedex entries. his abra story at the end of jn is precipitated by him saying he was going through his dad's old pokedex (which is a whole other thing - this implies walker used to be a trainer, but neither of goh's parents seem to have pokemon...perhaps they're too busy with work to look after them? a theory for another time, i suppose, but it has undeniably being gnawing at my brain since that episode aired lol).

and of course, there's the fact that in jn062 he tells drizzile he was never comfortable with confiding in his parents or his grandmother...suggesting that he never confided in anyone, because we don't really get the sense from the whole "i don't NEED friends" exchange in jn001 that he considers chloe a reliable confidant, either.

the other place we see his flawed sense of self-reliance, aside from like...everywhere in the first 10 or so episodes, lol (something that is reflected pretty beautifully and symbolically in scorbunny's story, too!), is in project mew. he has to learn how to work in a team - and he clearly hates it. at this point he's found one person to rely on, but that already feels like too much. the raid battle with articuno is the most obvious example of this. he isn't good at being a leader, but he also isn't good at being a follower. because he's only ever been responsible for himself, and he doesn't trust anyone else to know how to direct him, but he also has no clue how to work within the parameters of a team.

i also want to say, as a final note, that i actually think this is all extremely intentional writing. obviously in the west we have a strong capitalism culture too, but the work culture in japan is very toxic (just google "japan work culture" and you can see right away how intense it is lol) and i'm not actually surprised at all that pokemon would make such a direct commentary on that - a lot of japanese kids could probably relate to goh and his emotionally absent, work-obsessed parents! they are clearly pretty well-off, but their dedication to work supercedes matters of home and family, because that's how it's supposed to be. as a result, goh admires them a lot for this dedication - but his arc is primarily about letting go of the "work" part of interacting with pokemon and learning how to have fun and make the most of his experiences. and i think that's a really lovely message for modern pokemon to be sending to kids :')

[icyg4l]

Pick-An-Icon: How can you show up for your ancestors during Black History Month?

(Left-to-Right: Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

In honor of Black History Month, I wanted to start a Pick-A-Card series dedicated to Black Americans. I want to highlight icons in our community while simultaneously offering advice for any Black Americans who seek guidance about how to honor their heritage. If you're a Black American and you're reading this, this is for YOU! With the usage of the special Hoodoo Tarot deck, I will present you with ways to honor your ancestors. If you read this and enjoy and/or resonate with the reading, I encourage you to book with me! Thank you in advance!

Pile 1: Cards Used - Eight of Knives, Railroad Bill, Three of Baskets, Nine of Baskets, Two of Baskets, Nine of Knives, Gullah Jack and John Horse.

Affirmation: It is easy for me to take control of my narrative.

If you chose the image of Chaka Khan, then you resonate with her feisty, raw energy. This pile is for the creatives who are unsure of their talents. Your ancestors want you to know that there is more than one way to skin a cat. Introduce original ideas to the forefront. One way you can honor them is by not allowing time to limit your abilities. You put in so much work only to feel limited by a man-made construct. It doesn’t matter how old or young you are, you will always have time! Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I channeled this old interview of Prince saying how he doesn't celebrate birthdays because it keeps him younger. Take on that carefree mindset of not applying the norm to your life. Your time is now! Another way that you can honor your ancestors is by setting up an altar. I get the sense that this pile is very secretive with their spiritual practices. Adorn your altar with foods, drinks, jewelry and other belongings of this loved one. They will appreciate it dearly. If you've lost someone recently, my condolences. But definitely keep in touch with them. I get the feeling that this is a young man, like an older cousin or brother. Keep the memories of you two alive so that he can peacefully cross over into the afterlife. Lastly, being a class act is a great way to honor your ancestors. Refusing to sit back and allow injustices to happen will make your ancestors proud. You have a voice! Use it! Organizing protests, sit-ins, even crowdfunding will make your ancestors proud. Combatting the capitalistic nature of society by collaborating with those in your community will hep you get in touch with your ancestral roots. You're naturally a giver, I can tell.

Pile 2: Cards Used - Nine of Knives, Two of Coins, Five of Sticks, Strength, Daughter of Knives, Aunt Caroline, Ten of Sticks, Six of Knives, The Garden and Seven of Coins.

Affirmation: I deserve to move through life with ease.

Hello, Pile 2. Off rip, I get the feeling that this is my pile of overachievers. I also believe that this is the pile that people who identify as LGBTQIA+. You resonate with the energy of Lauryn Hill's mysterious, intellectual nature. Why do you feel the need to carry so many burdens, Pile 2? One way to honor your ancestors is to lighten your load. They see that you struggle so much because of the amount of responsibilities that you carry. They had to go through similar things and they do want to witness their struggles in your lifetime. Ask for help, please. If you do not ask for help, then you will implode and we want to avoid that as much as possible, yes? You do not have to be the strongest in the room. Who are you trying to prove yourself to? It would be best that this pile talks to a mental health professional to receive guidance and proper medical treatment. Another way that you can honor your ancestors is by blowing off steam. Let your emotions flow. Slam the doors. Scream in pillows. Remove the mask and don't allow your emotions to consume you. You are allowed to be angry, my love. You have a lot to be angry about. Finally, the last way that you can honor your ancestors is to explore. You put in so much work, it's only right you get rewarded for it. Book that spa day. Go get a mani-pedi. Take the weekend off and go into hiding, you deserve it. Go somewhere you haven't been before. Your ancestors want you to relax and wind down.

Pile 3: Cards Used - Ten of Coins, Father Simms, Mother of Knives, Four of Coins, Dr. Grant, Six of Sticks, Six of Baskets, Six of Knives, Nine of Knives, Miss Robinson and Five of Coins.

Affirmation: I am doing perfectly fine in the present moment.

Alright Pile 3. You choose the image of Donna Summer, which means you resonate with her sultry, bold personality. This pile already has a close relationship with their family/ancestors, specifically the maternal side. To honor your ancestors, you must keep it this way. Learn about the traditions of your maternal side. Preserve recipes, photos and jewelry of your maternal side. And most importantly, gatekeep these things! You don’t have to share everything with everyone! Some people who choose this pile will have ties to Houston, Texas or currently live there. If you’re thinking about moving there, you should! It will help you mature. Another way that you can honor your ancestors is to receive compliments of comparison to a family member of yours well. You may not like it, but it shows your ancestors that you have respect for their features and/or personality. If you look like Aunt Linda or Uncle Jermaine, then that’s absolutely fine! Don’t deny it! Embrace it! Lastly, don’t let money consume you! I channeled the scene at the end of Players Club where Diamond visits Ebony at her new job in the shoe store. Diamond tells Ebony to “make that money, girl but don’t let it make you.” You don’t have to keep up with the latest fashion trends. You don’t have to have a job in tech or have a “lazy” desk job. It is perfectly fine to work at McDonald’s or work in retail. You’re making an honest living and that’s all that matters. Accept things as they are. Your ancestors made something out of nothing, and so can you. They are proud of you! Keep going.

[its-time-to-write]

please don’t be - ch. 1

for context! this takes place after season 3, and in my head Jamie plays one season with Richmond under Roy, then goes back to City to play for Pep bc let’s be real, he’s a Manchester boy at heart. so that’s what’s happening, that’s the timeline, this is def the most non-canonical thing I’ve written. it might be out of character. it might be self-indulgent. I don’t know, I would say I don’t care, except I do. enjoy.

table of contents be good to me

It’s Julia who reminds you, he’s the one who asked for your number. Because she has to remind you. Otherwise you’ll tear yourself to pieces thinking about how it’s all your fault. 

Oh, it was easy in the beginning. You meet Jamie Tartt of all people in a chicken shop of all places. Things like that don’t just happen. Except it did, and he smiled at you first, and you had a stupid, stupid thought that became a stupid, stupid reality. 

And Julia was there from the beginning, what with her raised eyebrows and frosty opinions. 

“Be so careful,” she warns. “He doesn’t understand that he doesn’t deserve you.”

You laugh and squeeze her arm as you slip out the door and into Jamie’s car. 

Because it’s fun and silly and he has exactly the right words all the time. Words about your eyes, your voice, your humor; words you know not to take seriously, but he says them with such sincerity that you allow yourself to believe them for a second. 

He says strange things too, things about meeting his mum and holidays in the far future where you’re on a beach with him or maybe in the stands or in a room that costs more than you make in a month. 

He says the word marriage on the third date and it’s not even in reference to the both of you, just to him. He wants it, someday, sooner than people think. You study the wall behind him and sip your water. It’s ice-cold, with just the right amount of lemon. You keep your thoughts on the matter to yourself. No sense in filling the air with meaningless words. Marriage is a conversation for another girl. Not you. 

No, you do your best to take it for what it is, although you’re slipping. 

It’s a fling, albeit long-term. You have incompatible schedules, never mind the way you bend your time to the breaking point just to see him for ten minutes. You have a career, bills to pay, people to fix; he has football, a team, and history to make. 

It’s a whirlwind of parties, matches, flights to Dubai, photographers, dresses, jewels. You know it’s a dream. You do. 

Still, it’s hard to think of it as such when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and tells you, “My mum really liked meeting you the other day.”

It doesn’t matter how many times he tells you you’re just going out, he’s not your boyfriend (as if you aren’t painfully aware). He’s acting as if it’s more. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Julia says when you come home, confused and conflicted. “I don’t fault you for staying, but don’t forget you can leave whenever you’re ready.”

But you’re not ready. 

You’ll bend over backwards, put everything on the shelf if it means loving Jamie for half a minute. He’d never ask, no one ever does, because they always assume they know how you’ll respond. 

But they don’t. 

There’s a horrifying moment when you’re at some posh coffee shop, and you’re standing up to grab extra sweetener from the counter. Jamie grabs your wrist so gently to ask for a cup of water, but all you can see is the sweet expression on his face and an eyelash resting on his cheek. He’s smiling up at you and you brush away the eyelash with your free thumb, palm cupping his face. The air changes for a split second and you know.

You’re not making it out of this unscathed.

One of you will leave. It’s inevitable. It will not be you. 

It’s inevitable. 

So you hold his face for a beat too long before heading inside to compose yourself. You pretend not to notice the family with their cameras out. It’s a common occurrence, as common as footballers being seen with a girl who comes from another life and means nothing in the grand scheme of the Premier League. 

There are so many times you want to scream that there are bigger things than the Premier League. 

“I can fix him,” you tell Julia. “I get it. I understand his whole brain, how it works, what he thinks. I understand all of it. I can fix it.”

Julia sighs. “You’re not his therapist. It’s not your job, love.”

Still.

You do what you do best: love. 

It shows itself in the way you smooth out the knots in his forehead, his chest, his back. The way you smile that special, soft, just-for-Jamie smile. The way you listen extra carefully and joke and laugh when things are especially difficult. 

“I won’t change for you,” he says one day, early on, when you explain the panic you feel when he doesn’t speak to you for a week. 

“I’m not asking you to,” you say, voice steady despite the fact that your hands shake so hard you almost drop your tea. “I’m just explaining to you why I’m a bit strange today.”

Except he does change. His words- they don’t match his actions. 

I won’t change for you. 

Except you hear from him every day. 

I won’t change for you.

Except he makes time to see you. 

I won’t change for you. 

Except he’s inviting himself for tea with your family. 

I won’t change for you. 

You never asked him to. 

So why is it your fault?

“You knew I was moving back to Manchester at the end of the season,” he says accusingly, because you did know. You’re not asking him to stay, even now. 

You nod silently, letting as few tears streak down your face as possible. 

“What did you think was going to happen?” he asks. 

Nothing. You didn’t think anything was going to happen. 

You reply, “I didn’t expect anything to happen. I never pressured you. I never- I didn’t ask for any of this. Am I not allowed to be sad?”

There’s no point in telling him you’d move with him if he asked. Seven months together… it’s a long time. But it’s not forever, and it’s not long enough, apparently. 

Julia’s in the flat that night. She always seems to know which nights to be home and not out with her sickeningly perfect boyfriend. 

She doesn’t say anything, just hands you the box of takeout as you whisper, “I’m so tired of begging to be loved.”

It’s a cheap shot, you know that, but still. There’s plenty of love in your life. But the begging…

It’s silent, never leaving your lips. But it’s always screaming inside your head. 

Love me, love me, love me. I am making myself lovable for you. Love me. 

He knows not to text, not to call. You hear he’s in town and are relieved that you don’t hear from him. At least he knows enough to leave you alone. 

You’ll love someone for eternity, until they decide they don’t want it anymore. Once they decide, they’re not allowed back. They can’t come back. It wouldn’t be healthy. 

And fuck if you weren’t going to be healthy. 

table of contents

[agerefandomstuff]

Hey! Can you give some caregiver!Sam winchester headcannons? I read your dean hcs and i loved them so much!!! <3

• Will genuinely get sad if you decline a bedtime story. He LOVES to read with/to you.

—If he doesn’t get to do a bedtime story he feels like HIS routine is thrown off. Or he worries that you don’t actually like bonding with him. since this was the first and easiest thing for him to settle into and get excited about with you when you're regressed.

However, a little reassurance helps that insecurity.

• Also bedtimes are a must.

—He has a schedule and chores for you to complete every week.

—But the fun part is you got to sit down with both Sam and Dean to make and decorate the chore sheet. AND you get STICKERS to mark off what you’ve done.

(Sam almost regrets the sticker idea since he has to buy them in bulk now since one or two or five might end up on the boys’ faces rather than just the sheet. Oopsie! Haha!)

• Strict no thumb sucking rule.

—If he even SENSES your thumb going anywhere near your mouth, you’re getting the: “where have our hands been? And how do we know what the demon touched was clean? Exactly. We don’t. Get that thumb back in your lap. And use the necklace/pacifier I got you.”

—He knows about chewlery.

—Almost got you and Dean a matching pair but he didn’t want to hear Dean’s complaining (you both know he would’ve liked it eventually and it would’ve saved all of Sam’s pens.)

• Sam was uncomfortable at first holding you since it’s been a long time since he got to hold and cuddle someone. And back then it was romantic. Not… parental. He was worried about crossing boundaries or that he would be holding you wrong or just… h-he was uncomfortable! And nervous! Alright?

— But he cuddles you plenty now to make up for his original nervousness and he adores how you settle against him on the couch or on the bed.

—He’ll sit for hours with you curled up on his lap or leaned against him. The lights turned down to a soft yellow glow. Just bright enough for him to read his book but not bright enough to hurt your eyes or overwhelm your senses.

Sometimes he’ll softly play music off his trusty iPod or turn on a sweet nature documentary for some quiet background noise.

• Otherwise he puts on educational cartoons like magic school bus, osmosis jones, wild kratts, word girl, bill nye, myth busters, etc.

—He wants you to learn things (Dean complains to Sam about how they’re all educational because you know he’s sitting and watching them with you. He’s a sucker for cartoons.)

—But also those are the only cartoons Sam can really stand to watch for long periods. He’s almost burnt out on Scooby-Doo, Dory, and Frozen. Because of how much Dean played them but he’ll still watch them with you if you want.

• He gets crazy proud of you when you (or Dean) later repeat a fact you learned from one of the shows he put on for you.

Y/n: “Wild Kratts say that wolves’ prey will escape by swimming in water! So maybe if we go swimming the werewolves won’t get us!”

Sam: “Baby, I love that you remembered that.. but it’s not going to convince me to let you out of the safe zone until this hunt is over and I know you’re safe. Besides, you're way too little right now. How about you help by watching more of the Kratt Brothers so you can tell me more facts about wolves, okay?”

Dean: “Did you guys say something about Wild Kratts being on? Whatever it is, throw in a beer and some popcorn and I’m in.”

Sam: “Dean… c’mon..”

Dean: “What?”

Sam: “You’re going out on the hunt with me. You can’t stay back and watch cartoons with (y/n) right now.”

Dean: “But it’s Wild Kratts! I don’t want to get behind!”

Sam: “Dean.”

Dean: “Ugh.. fine. I’ll gank the werewolf with you.”

Y/n: “Then we can go swimming?”

Sam sighs, “Then.. maybe we’ll go swimming.”

Thank you for the request!! I hope you like this one as much as Dean’s!

[abyssalzones]

C-PTSD as a diagnosis makes so much sense for Ford because he really does fit almost all of the criteria, ESPECIALLY if you take the stuff in J3 into account in conjunction with his traumatic childhood (bullying, bad dad, etc.). It just makes sense in regards to his motivations and his issues with interpersonal relationships (like with Stan). Also buring yourself in your work (like he does) is a very common 'flight' coping mechanism to trauma in adults

I'm smiling like this right now

ford's whole.... mental health deal is extremely interesting to examine because Oh my god this man is the textbook image for "reacting to ongoing, continuous trauma". intentional or otherwise (I'm inclined to believe it's both).

like. okay hang on I'm about to get very in depth with it

I feel like there's no way this entire guy's life and in some ways his lasting identity haven't been defined by and constructed around various forms of trauma, maybe the most obvious and true-to-canon-intent being peer abuse/bullying from childhood. a lot of people downplay the impact of this type of abuse but it's... responsible for a lot of social ills in shocking ways. (if you're more interested in this topic here is an article my friend mer linked me a while back, it gets into it very deeply)

(a lot of this is going to be sourced from the wikipedia page for CPTSD [and my own experience Living with it] which I realize isn't very professional of me but Whatever this is tumblr)

one of the core tenets of ford's personality is that he's Different. he owns it, sure- his six fingers become a point of pride rather than something to be ashamed of- but they make it extremely clear that from a young age he associated being different with being a social pariah. ford's generation was characterized by notoriously cruel bullying, and anything that remotely made you stand out rendered you a target. ford could've been bullied for being nerdy and jewish (and failing to perform socially, ie dating) alone, having such an obvious mutation definitely was not winning him any points.

so it's honestly no surprise, when from childhood ford feels like he has One person in the world to trust and confide in, that he would go on to form very unhealthy attachment patterns typical of CPTSD. as you elaborated on regarding AvPD (which I know far less about but seems to have comorbidity with CPTSD): if you're hard-wired to believe socializing with others results in failure or betrayal, then you're not going to make an effort. but what does end up happening is that you're going to pour all of your trust and dependency into one person at a time, one person who is "safe".

previously, that was his brother. and it's not really hard to draw the conclusion from there that fiddleford was a subject of ford's attachment style, considering he was his One friend from college, and... one of Maybe two people ford is friends with at all who he isn't related to. he cites him as the only person he can possibly trust to work on the portal project alongside him, and he still can't bring himself to tell him the full truth, because he's terrified of losing him. I love their dynamic (I do think they were mutual best friends, and there was no small amount of trust reciprocated between them. "fiddleford was weird as hell too" is something I keep coming back to) and I don't think it's built on entirely unhealthy terms, but that kind of pressure is... setting things up to crash and burn.

enter bill stage left. back to "continuous yearning to be liked and accepted"- this guy knew that and made every effort to prey on ford's insecurities to reel him in as close as possible. this is what really pisses me off about the idea that bill was just "inflating ford's ego", because it's way, way more insidious than that. throughout the entirety of journal 3 we see ford reintroduce someone to his life he has a very positive relationship with (fiddleford) and how that trust gets gradually broken down by bill's influence "winning out" over their friendship. I think it's safe to say ford was already vulnerable: from the start, he'd been isolated in his research for six years (and it's unclear for how long he'd known bill by 1982), and bill proved time and time again to be someone who wouldn't judge him, someone who would praise him for his hard work, and perhaps most critically, make him feel like being different was something special.

like that's... that's really not good!!!! and that kind of thing works wonders on someone who has already settled with the idea that they're inclined to be alone just by design.

trying to put a cap on this. in relationships like the one he's had with his brother or fiddleford it doesn't even necessarily have to be ""toxic"" (vague term anyway) or outwardly bad to be built on unhealthy attachment patterns, and considering for a good chunk of ford's life his attachment to others can be characterized as "I can only trust ONE person at a time" it feels essential to any discussion of his CPTSD or canon trust issues. That is something that happens a lot in Real cases of CPTSD (hi) and only further snowballs into More trauma by leaving you vulnerable to manipulation and abuse (see: bill.)

I've been going on for way too long now and I feel like I've only scratched the surface of the thing I wanted to elaborate on sorry. that post traumatic stress disorder can complex

[arcanechariot]

Oscar boys and what they're looking for in a partner (if they care): Ages! Options are older, younger, and the same.

Headcanons go!

ohh, anon, you spoil me! strap in; this is probably gonna be a long one

(all the oscar boys prefer partners 18+ obvs also im using oscars age at the time of playing the role as the characters age, unless stated otherwise)

oscar boys age preferences

for those who don't want to read, tldr;

prefers younger

anselm vogelweide: absolutely younger. anselm is about 50 imo (though oscar was 43 at the time of the role). he has this whole corruption kink thing going on in my mind. it's even better if he gets to be a person's first sexually so he can be absolutely sure they get the best first time experience (and so he knows they'll never have anyone better 🤭🤭)

bud cooper: he likes being seen as the older and more knowledgable one in the relationship but only by a little. he's not a fan of much younger partners because he's found them to be a little needy but he enjoys the kind of energy a slightly younger person brings to the table

laurent leclaire: like anselm, laurent likes the idea of deflowering his partner and essentially 'ruining' every other man for them because he's just so damn confident that he's the best (pre-depression ofc). though post-depression; he probably prefers someone the same age to him just because they'll hopefully have the maturity to help him cope with everything that's happened but that's not necessarily dictated by age

leto atreides i: this man is a natural paternal figure and he enjoys seeing people blossom and thrive under his charge. a partner for him isn't just someone who shares his bed; it's someone he can guide and hold and comfort. again, he has a bit more of a saviour complex in my mind so he'd prefer someone younger (who's possibly been mistreated) so he can nurse them back to health and show them what it's like to be in a healthy and loving relationship (but now we're getting into oc territory so i'll shut up)

orestes: he prefers someone younger who still has that same whimsy that he used to have as a young man. he wants someone to help him tap into that again; someone spontaneous and energetic who he go skinny-dipping with and serenade late at night. he likes younger partners because they give him a chance to be a young man again without the weight of alexandria on his shoulders

santiago garcia: santi prefers being with younger partners who look up to him and respect him. he also just loves being called papí

teddy sullivan (oc): i haven't gone into much detail around teddy as he's technically an oc for @bludpudding's little project; sandman genesis. i might go on to do a profile and loredump about him if people are interested but i'll leave it here for now. anyway, teddy prefers younger partners who he can nurture, support and guide

william tell: after his time travelling with cirk, bill realised how nice it was to be a paternal/mentor figure to a younger companion and he also likes that in a partner. he likes someone who he can support and treat but also someone who respects him and can take a firm punishment when they step out of line

prefers same age

abel morales: he likes his partner and himself to be on the same level so to speak so they have similar interests and can have mature conversations

bassam: despite being a government agent, bassam still likes to have fun and this might be more of a personality thing but he finds that slightly younger partners are more in tune with how he has fun and unwinds after work; cracking open some beers and chatting shit

cecil dennis: cecil needs someone who can keep up with his immaturity and wild antics. if you really want to connect with cecil, you should be able to have fun but it's even better if you can also pull him back when he's getting in over his head. he needs a little bit of guidance from time to time but he doesn't want a party-pooper!

david castillo outcome 3: david is in his late 30s/early 40s in my mind (though oscar was 33 at the time of the role). he likes having someone young enough to keep up with him but old enough to fend for themself when he goes on missions and has to take long periods away

evgeni kolpakov: ev usually goes for someone the same age as him if not a little younger though he's not exactly picky. he has a bit of a saviour complex (due to his own trauma) and likes when someone has enough whimsy to enjoy the kind of silly dates and gestures of affection that he sometimes performs

jonathan levy: jon likes the whole idea of student/professor roleplay but dating someone significantly younger than him is unnerving. he'd rather just date someone of a similar age with the maturity to carry a relationship and leave the age gap to fantasies and roleplay

nathan bateman: he prefers someone the same age who he can have intelligent conversations with but also have a drink and boogie down. that being said, he's not overly picky; as long as you're hot and not a bore

poe dameron: poe prefers partners the same age if not a little younger who he can take out on wild joyrides and who can accompany him on missions. he loves partners who can keep up with him and banter with him but also have the experience needed to understand and support the general of the resistance

prefers older

john i of england: more of a need than a preference honestly. i've said it before and i'll say it again; john 👏 is 👏 a 👏 brat 👏 he needs someone older, more mature (and probably more physically fit) to teach and guide him and give him a little punishment when he needs it. he needs someone who can bring him back down to earth when he's being petulant and he's less likely to respect someone when they're younger, thinking 'how could they know more than me, they're younger than me!'

detective marco 'fartman' cruz: again, marco needs someone more mature to bring him back down to earth. he isn't as bratty as john but he still needs to be kept on a short leash as he can be quite silly goofy sometimes

mikael boghosian: mikael doesn't need someone older but he prefers someone with life experience who can sympathise with what he's gone through and they can kind of have a mutual understanding of previous struggles. this doesn't have to come strictly from being older as it can come in the form of abuse, chronic illness, etc. he just prefers someone who understands pain and can empathise with his experiences and sensitivities

robbie paulson: robbie needs a hand taking care of himself, especially as he probably has some deep-seated trauma after being coerced into killing two girls. that being said, he's not like john who just takes and takes and takes. robbie absolutely gives back with unflinching loyalty and little gestures of affection (usually giving gifts or unprompted snuggles)

vasily 'shiv' shivkov: shiv needs someone with maturity and life experience, someone who can stop him from making stupid mistakes and patch him up when he gets in over his head. he likes having people who can hang around with him and be silly but, in most cases, that's just ended up with people taking advantage of him and his immaturity. he finds comfort in the more mature and level-headed individuals who can give him a reality check and have his best interests at heart

misc.

blue jones:

with the kind of man he is, he likes to hold the upper hand on any and all counts. and, if his partner is younger, he can claim seniority and keep that upper hand

that being said, if he's with said partner because he actually likes them, he'll probably go for someone the same age or older so he feels like he can trust them more (and so he can sub a little if he wants to, feeling safe that they've got experience)

moon boys:

marc prefers someone the same age (if not a little younger) as he feels like he can connect with them easier. if they're a little younger, he has a bit of a saviour complex going on where he hopes he can give his partner the love and compassion that he was never given when he was younger, giving them a safe space where he can protect them

steven prefers someone the same age if not a little older who he can take on dates to the museum and the library. someone who enjoys quiet nights in watching documentaries, drinking hot drinks and listening to him infodump about ancient egypt. again, that doesn't necessarily mean age is the main factor but it's usually who he goes for as they seem to have the same interests and likes

jake prefers them younger. he likes being the big, strong papí that his partner needs; firm but fair

i hope that answers your questions! obvs these are all just my headcanons but i'd love to hear other people's thoughts

also is it odd that most of my favs go for younger partners and have like a saviour complex? maybe. is my daddy kink showing? absolutely

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝐶ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑠, 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒

Tagging: @augustwithquills , @bloody-mf-bsc

Liked by freddycarter1, benbarnes, vancityreynolds and 5,897,655 others

Y/N Y/L/N: This man unsettles me. Why the hell do you smile at me like a proud kid looking at his mom for praise?

We filmed the most gut-wrenching, soul-wrecking traumatic scene for your character.

You just know what you will be doing to the fans. You know their pain, and enjoy it and they are gonna come after you for therapy bills. Hope you are rich.

View 657,564 comments

User5: Freddy is just a sneaky cat. That's it. That's my comment.

User7: I don't wanna know the scene... yet again I have a guess .

User9: There is water... And Kaz's trauma includes water... We are, guys, once again...

User6: doomed. As usual.

User4: It's usual at this point, like I can't go on with my day without at least one tiny bit of drama

User3: Once again, mother Y/N is right. We all hope you are rich ASF Freddy.

freddycarter1: I could make Y/N pay for them?? She is the reason you guys cry

Y/N Y/L/N: don't bring me into this, Freddy. It's your fault, you have to deal with it. Or... I can tell your wife that you are bullying me😎

freddycarter1: you wouldn't dare! My wife loves me!

Y/N Y/L/N: Maybe... Not as much as me tho😉

User12: the way Y/N doesn't just conquer the women cast members' hearts but the male cast's wives as well...

User5: Teach us where this rizz comes from Y/N!

User6: Just Y/N and Ben casually making us fall in love with them

Liked by benbarnes, freddycarter1, amita_suman, jessie_mei_li and 6,573,435 others

Y/N Y/L/N: More memes!

1. Freddy is my one true love, and more attentive and mature and cares more about me.( this is definetly not my amazing,handsome, attentive and bullied boyfriend whom I should pay more attention to.)

2. This is what I was talking about! Look at hım and tell me you wouldn't immediately accept whatever mindblowing War crime he wants to commit together?

3. The only surprise element here is that I paid for the tickets... Even if they were the ones who went to to cinema.

View 566,564 comments

User1: Ben is being a gremlin again by taking her phone... Again.

Y/N Y/L/N: See? Everyone else is very mad at you benbarnes 😒

User5: Y/N show some love to poor boi 😭

User9: Ben is struggling so much djsjsh

User8: he is like a puppy following her around dnjd Have you seen the BTS of shadow and bone? He is always looming behind her and looking over her shoulder to get a glimpse 🥹🤭

User4: We love men who respects and shows his love openly to their lover😎

User6: Istg they want me to put a toast in the tub and live there like that by how cute they are being... look at her giggles and wide smile through her Insta posts after they got together and say otherwise

User9: They really are the best for each other and they are so cute, so supportive of each other and you can also see the Ben's grin is wider and shinier too!

User14: Being the "sugar mommy" of them is Y/N's fate now...

freddycarter1: I didn't hear any complaints from her.

User2: She has all the tittles now, the only one missing is... The Milf 💫

User14: That could change at any moment and we wouldn't know...

User3: 😳

Y/N Y/L/N: First all, no one can be like me... Or else you would be in constant hunger because you two can't cook to save your lives.

benbarnes: my cooking isn't that bad... Right?

Y/N Y/L/N: Could have been worse.

User6: Y/N does he use that kicked puppy eyes on you too?

Y/N Y/L/N: Whenever he wants kisses... Which means all the time. But I have no complaints, I love kissing hım.

User6: So it works?

Y/N Y/L/N: It works wonders.

Liked by benbarnes, freddycarter1,zendaya and 6,899,790 others

Y/N Y/L/N: Not my fault that they are living moods

1: Me, when they show me the most shocking, spectacular,eye-burning, gut-wrenching,soul-wrecking, traumatic script ever

2. Also me, whenever I look at my boys. And yes, though I always say I hate them here, I love them all so much. I'd probably commit arson for them if they asked but... Yeah.

3. Yes, you saw it right. He took my phone again 😑Like,why do you have your's if you always use mine?

View 678,768 comments

freddycarter1: does that script include us??

Y/N Y/L/N: I don't know...😳🤐

jacktwolfe: I say we give her candy she loves so she can't resist and then take the script and run away when she isn't looking 😊

Y/N Y/L/N: Jack what the fuck? Get out of your Wylan head.

User5: I'M BEGGING IN THE NAME OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR, Y/N HAVE MERCY ON OUR SOULS😭

User8: indeed, we finally saw that she had a heart and It's full of love for the boys too... Just not as much as the women

freddycarter1: mind you, this is the best thing that had ever been told to me... I STILL prefer Ben tho

Y/N Y/L/N: All my hardwork was for nothing... But legit anyways, I'd choose my baby too

User5: does it ever bother how Freddy is just you in another font, Y/N?

Y/N Y/L/N: He can do all he wants... I'm the only one who sees Ben in... different light🤭

User6: HOLY SMOKES-

User9: Y/N just casually dropping hints on their private life is just... Golden djsndbdv

User1: Fr she and Freddy are fighting for Ben's hand jddjjd

User7: Considering the rest of the books and knowing all the scenes by heart now... And adding Y/N cinematography...

User1: we're doomed.

User6: Will go and make a confession to the local church now, for the person I'll become when that happens

Y/N Y/L/N: Calahan is keeping me in a headlock so that I would backdown from my heart-tearing plans... I HAVE YOUR PICTURES WITH A TIARA AND TUTUS, FREDDY AND CALAHAN! Don't make me share them

User5: Poor Y/N... Keep doing it Calahan, just a few more minutes, I live close to her. I can just grab that script and run away

freddycarter1: benbarnes please leash your chihuahua of a girlfriend before we spoil your plans

Y/N Y/L/N: what surprise? Ben is planning something behind my back?? benbarnes, what do you have to defend yourself? 🤨

benbarnes: I will kill you when I'm done running from my girlfriend, Carter...

Y/NandBen.fanpage: GUYS GUYS GUYS, I THINK IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING OMG-

Liked by benbarnes, shadowandbone, amita_suman, jessie_mei_li, blakelively, tchalamet and 9,896,798 others

Y/N Y/L/N: GUESS WHO IS BECOMING A BARNES?🤭

Oh, and @ user3? You are a Seer, that's for sure. Thank you for calling dibs on our marriage, lovie!

And to everyone who always said we were cheaters: İt must SUCK to be with yall because you don't trust your lovers! 😎🫳🎤

View 998,789 comments

benbarnes: You are so beautiful, my ex-girlfriend...

Y/N Y/L/N: Stop saying that, idiot... And, oh... I am beautiful? 🥹🤭

User6: OMG CRYING, SHITTING TEARS WTF THIS IS SO CUTE DJDJSJS

User9: Y/N and Ben are both melting for each other and OMG I'm crying too 🥹

User5: for a fact, I just know that these two cried and still is crying tons while cuddling and reading our messages

Y/N Y/L/N: Do you have cameras in our house??

User7: SOMEONE MAKE SURE USER3 IS ALIVE BECAUSE GOD KNOWS I WOULDN'T BE IF BEN AND Y/N MENTIONED ME

User3: I'M INDEED NOT OKAY I'M ALIVE BUT BARELY BREATHING WTF I WASN'T EXPECTING THIS

User6: YOU ARE LIVING OUR DREAMS!! *shake shoulder harshly* HOW DOES IT FEEL LIKE TO BE THE IT GIRL?!

User8: Someone keep that fucking hater away from here or else there will be millions, including celebrities, who will throw hands!

User2: I think they will not be here because if mother Y/N dissed me like that, I would have found a hole and never get out.

User5: When I tell you I am at my granny's funeral and trying so hard to control my giggles... THE FIGHT IS REAL

User8: We have a holy knight here, hang in there sis! We still need to see their wedding photos!

User10: what's even funnier is that "Ben Barnes I hope you can fight" tag is trending in Twitter lol

blakelively: look at that excited smile! Finally, you are joining the married life! Welcome to club 🤭

User4: Today folks, we all can rest in peace for we achieved what we always wanted for 3 years 😌

amita_suman: beautiful people ❤️ Love you both so much!

freddycarter1: Does that mean we call her Barnes too?

jessie_mei_li: Yes, since they are the mom and dad 😒 Is that even a question?

kittheyounger: we are all united under one holy flag: The Barnes' Holy Kingdom

User15: After 3 years, Ben Barnes finally put that ring on her finger. A day to celebrate for years to come indeed.

tchalamet: Congrats to my favourite director!

Y/N Y/L/N: Don't let Greta hear that Ti 😉

tchalamet: she would say the exact same

User17: DAYUMN THAT RING IS THE SAME SIZE AS MY HEAD HOW RICH ARE YOU BEN?!

User16: Just like that, we achieved it. Now, there is one last thing needed: A mini Ben-Y/N

[alanaartdream]

((( Ok before you come to my tumblrs you might want to check out this pined post ok and thank you <3 )))

Drawing the artist version of that action figure trend going around that artists are doing to get back at the ai version of it

Manged to add a little glow pikmin in it somewhere

(Also being as love a lot care bear skeleton cat plush & build a bear Chococat plush happen to be 3 of my favourite plushies atm I had to add them in this)

Also drawing some Sanrio Characters for Easter 🐣 being as it’s Easter Sunday today And also being as it’s Sanrio character rankings voting for 2025 going on right now

Also letting everyone who comes to my tumblr asking for money or commissions

1) I’m a adhd Australian 🇦🇺 hobbyist/ hobby artist I don’t get paid for drawings I do and I do them to help myself keep my art skills & to relax me

2) I work for food services for a hospital 🏥 kitchen I don’t have time to do commissions

3) I had to put one of my cats down; helped my mum get a new car because her last one was literally falling apart & some jerk scammed her out of money she was saving up to get that car & now I’m getting my back/ neck fixed by a chiropractor atm & will bills both my mum & I have to pay to keep the house going we do not have money to spare so sorry both my mum & me are in trying to save money mode for now So you’re going to have to go to someone else my money going cat I still have & my

Back/ neck atm (( rare times I have crash to spend I am trying to save it for when it’s my

Birthday or things that catch my adhd brain interest; but I know I have to save that money up for that so it’s not all the time I have money to spend on things but I work for it like everyone else I’m not some influencer who gets money to review stuff if I do reviews on things it’s coming from my own pocket but I’m only gonna review things that I can afford at the time;; also being as some scammer scammed my poor hard working mother out of her money she was trying so hard to save I can’t stand scammers so if you’re sounding like a scammer coming into my

Asks for money I’m blocking you & if you’re not taking the hint to leave my ask box alone I will be able to report you for harassment because spamming someone’s messages/ ask box for money from people is a form of harassment so you might want to double think before you come into anyone’s messages & asks otherwise they can report you for harassment))

So if you come into my tumblrs ( @alanaartdream @reblogalanaartdream ) or any of my posts here asking for money and/ or commissions I’m gonna have to block you or just kindly turn you away

Sorry it’s just I keep telling people I don’t do commissions & don’t really have crush to give to anything atm so if you keep ignoring my posts explaining this I’m gonna have to block you 🐾

🎨🌈✏️🖍️✍️Those who just left kind messages and actually shown interest in my posts thank you so much for your support; your nice comments; your likes and reblogs and for your kind understanding 💕✨

[sheepwithspecs]

Perfect Candor

|| RDR2 || Rated T ||

Ao3 Link

(Sean x Karen; implied Mary-Beth x Kieran) "For a man who insisted that he loved her the way flowers loved the sun, he sure as hell didn’t seem too keen to share his troubles."Karen finds herself torn at the idea that Sean is keeping secrets from her, but can't quite put her finger on why. However, a forced confrontation may leave her with more truths than she bargained for. (Takes place during Chapter 3.) (2/2)

The sun hung low over Flat Iron Lake, painting the sky with the first broad orange strokes of dusk. The water rippled as fish leapt up to catch the insects flitting over its calm surface, sudden splashes in an otherwise peaceful evening. The camp was settling down for the night, with chores finished and supplies restocked. Those who remained wandered to and fro along the lake’s edge, searching for something to fill the idle hours before bedtime.

Jack tossed sticks into the water for Cain to chase, shrieking with delight as the dog splashed through the shallows. Abigail kept a close eye on him from the fallen log that served as a bench, fanning herself with a scrap of newspaper. Farther away, John leaned against a tree, a silent battle waging on his scarred face as he watched his son. Dutch and Hosea stood side by side on the old dock, pointing out facets of the shoreline and arguing—as always—about whether the best direction to head was east or west.

Bill, Arthur, Uncle, and Ms. Grimshaw were engrossed in a low stakes poker game, laughing about old times and accusing one another of hiding spare cards up their sleeves. Pearson played his accordion to an audience of none, the warbling notes accompanied by a chorus of tenor crickets and bass bullfrogs. Mary-Beth reclined in the soft grass, her soft voice almost inaudible as she read a passage from her favorite novel. Kieran sat on a crate at her side, his face set in an expression of intense concentration as he listened to the heroine’s plight. Tilly knitted a new shawl nearby, her infrequent glances suggesting that she’d appointed herself as a wary chaperone to the readers.

Karen wound her way between the wagons and makeshift furniture, searching every last nook and cranny for any sign of Sean. He’d been running laps in her thoughts all day, her mind stuck imagining all the ways a bounty hunter might torture a man without leaving too much of a mark. Finally, she’d decided that the only course of action would be to force him to tell her exactly what they had done to him. The truth would help to settle her frayed nerves; if nothing else, she might at least have a moment’s peace.

Trouble was, she couldn’t find the Irish bastard anywhere.

“Ain’t that just like a man,” she grumbled, ringlets bouncing around her face as she scanned the clearing. “Has anyone here seen Sean around?”

“Sean?” Arthur glanced up from his cards, jerking his chin towards the shadows of the forest. “Last I saw, he was headed that way… though I’m not sure why you’d want to find him, of all people.” He shook his head in clear annoyance, rapping his knuckles on the worn hide of the table to check.

“Aw, let her have him!” Uncle wheezed, leaning his weight onto his elbow as he tried to peek at Bill’s hand. “Keep him busy, so the rest of us can have some peace and quiet around here for a change!”

“That’s funny: I seem to recall you singing a different tune at his party.”

“I said I wanted some peace and quiet, Morgan! That ain’t the same as wantin’ the boy dead!”

“In any case… listen to me,” Arthur began seriously. “I’m not trying to get into your business, Karen, but if the two of you get up to that same mess you started in John’s tent, try to keep it down.” The corner of his mouth quirked in the ghost of what might have been a smile. “There’s boars in these woods, and I’d hate to see Sean gored because you had him squealing like a piglet.”  

Karen felt her cheeks begin to burn as the table roared with laughter. Had Arthur been close enough to overhear them, that night? Had he heard the way she’d…? No, it was better to stop thinking right then and there. She wasn’t sure she could handle that sort of mortification without a drink in her hand.

“Oh… shut up, all of you!” She stormed off towards the tree line, trying desperately to ignore the renewed chorus of laughter from the poker game.

The world dimmed to twilight as she passed into the forest, orange beams of sunlight illuminating the moldering carpet of fallen leaves. As she passed deeper into the trees, the sounds of camp became muffled; the leafy canopy rustled in the soft breeze, pines whispering as they swayed back and forth. The lake was a distant shimmer between the branches, water lapping at the crumbling embankment. All around her, small things scurried in the brush: squirrels, raccoons, any number of rodents. Every so, a short burst of sound alerted her to the presence of bounding deer just out of sight.

Karen walked slowly, keeping one eye on the lake and the other peeled for any sign of him. It didn’t help that he dressed in the colors of the forest, with hair the shade of a startled fox and coat the same mottled tones of tree bark. As usual, she heard him long before she saw him, his voice carrying above the back-and-forth of birdsong.

Following the sound, she climbed up a steep gully and found herself on the precipice of a natural overlook. Centuries of rain and wind had torn the soil from the trees, leaving behind a maze of exposed roots across several feet of craggy earth. Along the edge, mossy stones lined a creek that tumbled its way down to the lake in a series of waterfalls. The larger trees stretched up overhead, oaks and elms reaching out to shade the forest floor from the harsh sun.

Karen paused a moment to admire the scene, taken aback by its natural beauty. She could only imagine what it must look like in the daytime, with the creek sparkling in the sunlight and brightly colored birds flitting from one tree branch to the next.

She found Sean propped up against the side of a large boulder. A fallen log had wedged itself into the craggy landscape, laden with vines and hanging moss; the tangle of green had been draped across the back of the boulder to create a natural sun shade. It was clear that this was a favorite haunt of his, from the threadbare blanket in the corner to the empty bottles stacked in a neat pile against the rock face. She could imagine him stealing away at chore time, sneaking out of camp to hide in this little corner of the world he’d made for himself.

“Oh Mollie, oh Mollie…hmm mm… n’ my home—” Sean half-sang to himself, entirely oblivious to her presence as he carved away at an old piece of wood. Partially hidden behind a tree, Karen took a moment to watch him. While he didn’t have Arthur’s rugged looks, or Javier’s effortless charm, he was handsome in his own way; even she had to admit that much. The dappled light filtering through the vines caught the wiry stubble on his neck, dying it red-gold. Her hands itched with the urge to touch, to feel the scratchy tickle of bristles against her fingertips. Without the hat to hold it out of his eyes, his hair fell across his forehead in a way that practically begged her to card her fingers through it. Her heart beat a rapid tempo against her breastbone, feet carrying her towards him before she fully realized what she was doing.

“Sean?” His head jerked up at the sound of her voice, eyes widening as he searched the encroaching darkness. At the sight of her he visibly relaxed, flashing his signature grin.

“Ah, there she is. Can’t bear to spend an evening without me, eh?” he teased, patting the rock at his side. He seemed to think better of it, stretching out his legs and offering his lap with a lascivious expression that tried—and failed—to be subtle. “Here’s a seat ready for the takin’.”

“Sean, I—” Karen steeled her nerve, unsure of what reaction her request—no, her demand—was about to incite. There was a good chance he’d put up a fight; after all, he’d refused both Abigail and Ms. Grimshaw’s help. For all his natural cheeriness, he could be pigheaded, obstinate to a fault… then again, so could she. “I want you to show me what they’ve done to you.”

“I— eh?” Karen stopped within arm’s reach, looming over him with a frown. “I, erm… I’m not sure what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Ike’s bounty hunters. Show me what they did.” She’d learned long ago that when it came to Sean, the easiest way to trap him was to say at little as possible. While he was no Hosea, the man had slipperiness down to a science. The more a person said, the more ammunition it gave him to find a loophole to wiggle out of. He knew how to spin a yarn, to break into longwinded tangents so that it was just long enough to exhaust a saint’s patience. Then, while his unwilling listener was trying to find their own escape route, he’d bolt before they could remember that they’d asked him to do something.

“What does that have to do with anythin’?” He shifted uncomfortably, fidgeting under her hard stare. “It’s not like I’m—” His words fell apart with a startled gasp as she straddled him, pushing him back and cutting off any chance of escape. Sean fell back onto his elbows, jaw dropping as he stared up at her in complete shock. “Kar—I—you—what—?!”

“Be quiet.” Karen shoved the coat off his shoulders, letting it pool beneath him as she fought the buttons on his vest with single-minded determination. It was open in a flash, falling to either side of his narrow waist as she turned her attention to the dingy union suit that lay beneath. Too many goddamn buttons….

“H-Have you lost your bleedin’ head?!” he yelped, finally coming to his senses. His attempts to stop her were halfhearted at best, nervous fingers tangling with her own only to be batted away with growing impatience. “Don’t get me wrong, this is a dream come true, but now’s really not the time for— I mean, I do love a woman who knows exactly what she wants, but— it’s not a pretty sight—”

“Would you shut up?!” With a grunt, Karen yanked apart the unbuttoned fabric, exposing him from the waist up. Her breath caught in her throat, lips parting at the state of his body.

Sean was a wiry man at the best of times, with a body built for tight squeezes and fast getaways. But times had been lean, even before Blackwater, and the bounty hunters had clearly not wasted extra food on their prize. John’s tent had been dark, the night of his party, and neither of them had undressed more than was necessary for their hurried coupling. She hadn’t noticed the way his ribs stood out in stark relief, or the sharp curve of his hipbones jutting above the waistband of his jeans. His stomach was little more than a hollow dip, rising and falling with every uneven breath.

From collarbone to hips, every inch of pale skin was a mess of angry welts and half-healed bruises. Ghastly, Mary-Beth had claimed, and yet that wasn’t good enough of a word to describe the jaundiced yellows and gangrenous greens of weeks-old bruising. Some of them were clearly footprints, the overlapping outlines of pointed toes and blunt heels where he’d been kicked repeatedly. Others were duller, broader, made with fists or weapons. They’d burned him here, too; his chest, his stomach, even the soft skin beneath his arms held a constellation of circular marks. Some of them were deep enough to blister, white and peeling at the edges.

Karen lifted her eyes to meet his. Sean’s face was slack, cheeks bright red and something like shame in his gaze. Even now he tried to smile, hiding his thoughts under that bright expression. The gap in his front teeth felt like an accusation. Her stomach turned at the thought, full of disgust for herself and pity for the man currently pinned under her thighs. Each missing tooth, every last bruise and burn—they were unvoiced confessions, proof of his loyalty to those he considered family.

Proof that his captors had failed.

“They….” She reached out a faltering hand, wanting to touch him but unsure of how to do so without causing him pain. The freckles scattered across his chest called to her, as did the sparse trail of hair that vanished beneath the leather holster. “Those bastards beat you this badly?” It seemed a stupid question— or, rather, a pointless one.

“Y-Yeah.” His breath hitched as her knuckles grazed his sternum, throat bobbing nervously. “They did, at that.”

“And burned you…” A muted shiver ran through him as she turned her attention to his ribs, counting each one-by-one with a featherlight touch.

“It’s torture, darlin’.” It seemed he had found his voice once more, flinching away from her touch with all the twitchiness of a trapped squirrel. “They didn’t exactly prop me up in front of the hearth with a nice whiskey and the morning paper. A comfy man doesn’t go spillin’ his innermost secrets.”

“You didn’t go spilling yours, either,” she pointed out. “Even after… everything.”

“Ha! ‘Course not!” he preened. “I’m a MacGuire! I’ve a family name to uphold. It takes a lot more than a little prickin’ and pokin’ to make a MacGuire squeal.”   

“But why?” Sean stared at her a long moment.

“Why… what?”

“Why not end it?” Karen insisted. “Those men were going to kill you regardless, and you know that Arthur was going to kill them regardless, so why not save yourself the trouble of—”

“Now see here!” He sat up with a jolt, wincing through the pain until they were nose to nose. “I’m nothin’ if not loyal!” he scowled, offended. “All this was a walk in the park compared to the thought of them stormin’ the camp and… and….”

“And what?” Sean didn’t reply immediately. He seemed to be staring at her, through her, seeing the future that he’d prevented by managing silence for once in his life. “Well? Spit it out!”

“Doesn’t matter.” He cleared his throat, swallowing back whatever emotion had him in a chokehold. “Anyway, it’s self-preservation in the end, isn’t it? If Dutch though I was a rat, he’d have my arse strung up faster than a whole team of bounty hunters. And Mr. Matthews—” He broke off with a shudder. “I don’t want to think about what he might’ve done. I’m more afraid of him than I am Ike Skelding any day.”

“Even so….”

“I’m not asking you to kiss it better,” he teased gently, seeing her eyes fall back to the angry wounds. “Not unless you want to, that is.”

“Eugh. I’d rather pull a fish outta the lake and kiss that.”

“Ha! Suddenly superior again, I see!” he laughed. “Ah, I can’t help but love it. That’s what kept me going, in the end.”

“Huh?” Karen frowned. “What’re you talking about?”  

“Sometimes it was bad enough that I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Well, you sorry son of a bitch, this is it!”. But then I’d think about how I was keeping the lot o’ you safe, and I’d find it in me to hang on just a little longer. All the people that I care about in this shitty life: Dutch, Lenny, Arthur… and you.” He peered into her face, gauging her expression. “It… it was almost always you.”  

“Sean!” she scoffed, feeling the flush rise up her neck like the tide. Their eyes met once more, and she found that same indefinable emotion that had compelled her to drag him to John’s tent on the night of the party. In the daylight, in her soberness, it was… soft, and warm, and practically begging her to melt into it like candy on a summer’s evening.

It was… sweetness. Affection.

Infatuation.

So, so different from the toying smirk he flashed whenever he dragged her in for a kiss! So removed from the taunting curl of his lip when she knocked some sense into his thick skull! Different, yes… but no less real. That thought frightened her far more than the idea that he’d withstood torture for her sake.  

“But your feet— Tilly said—”

“Ah, what of it? They weren’t that pretty to begin with, I’ll admit.”

“And your teeth—”

“I ought to have thanked them, really. I dare anyone who calls themselves a van der Linde to have half as charmin’ a smile as mine.”

“Is everything a goddamn joke to you?!” She pushed him away, ignoring his yelp of pain as she stumbled to her feet. A hot burr lodged at the base of her throat, pricking her eyes with unshed tears. “Ugh! I can’t stand you, Sean MacGuire!” she snarled, rubbing her arms hard enough to chafe. “I don’t even know why I ever bothered feeling sorry for your miserable behind!”

“What’d I do now?” he laughed helplessly. “Tell me: am I supposed to go around all mopey, just because a couple of bastards tried to beat me to death? I’ve got all my limbs n’ my wits, don’t I?” he pointed out sensibly. “Some teeth and a few scars are a fine price to pay, all things considered.”

The fact that he wasn’t entirely wrong only served to frustrate her even more. He could have just as easily ended up like Jenny, or Davey and Mac. As far as he was concerned, he was simply joining the ranks of those who had earned their scars for the benefit of the gang. In their line of work, an unmarked face was almost synonymous with greenhorn. Theirs was a harsh, unforgiving lifestyle that had the habit of taking more than it gave in return. In his eyes, being at the mercy of bounty hunters was no different than being snatched up by a rival gang or caught unawares by local lawmen.

“Tch… whatever.” She shook her head. “I’m going back to camp.”

“Wait!” he called after her, trying to scramble to his feet. “You know, the night I came back—”

“What?!” Her patience had, unfortunately, ran out for one evening.

“The night I came back,” he tried again, fumbling with his union suit as he buttoned it back into place, “that… that was the happiest night of my life, honest.” He trailed after her, shrugging the coat back onto his shoulders. “Wait! Don’t you want to know why?” The burr blossomed into something truly painful, like stepping barefoot on a cactus leaf: the sharp sting of disbelief, followed almost instantly by a hot wash of shame. Karen turned on her heel, pointing an accusing finger in his face.

“Don’t you dare say a damn word about anything that happened in that tent!” she spat, feeling herself puff up like an angry cat. “It only happened because we were both too drunk—”

“Jesus alive, woman!” Sean backed off, hands raised defensively. “That wasn’t even what I was going to say! Give a man a moment to collect his thoughts!”

“You got thirty seconds before I push you off this cliff and finish what those bounty hunters started.”

“I only meant…” He chewed anxiously at his lower lip, a gesture very unlike the loud, boasting man she knew him to be. “I meant when we were by the campfire, you and me, and singing together. You sat on my lap, and I had my arms around you, and I… I could….”

“You could what?”

“I could….” He took a shaky breath. “Pretend.”

“Pretend?”

“Just… just for a bit. I could pretend that you were my girl, and no one else’s.”

“Your what?!” He blanched at the sight of her face, putting another two steps between them.

“I-I mean in the way that Abigail is John’s girl, y’know?” he stammered, the words spilling out so fast that she barely had time to pick them apart. “She’s his, and he’s hers, and… that sort of thing. Agh, fuck— I’m not saying it right, I know, but—”

“Abigail is John’s?” she repeated, infuriated. The anger bubbled up inside her. It was aimed partly at Sean, at his stupid naiveté, but mostly at the main in question. “And John is hers?” she added, her voice breaking on a high-pitched laugh. “In that case, someone ought to go and explain that to him!”

“N-Now, don’t get all up in arms—”

“Maybe you weren’t aware that John tried to pull me on his lap not two weeks ago!” she exploded, throwing up her hands. “Seeing as you’ve decided that’s what girls do to their beaus, what do you think that says about him? About me?!”

“But you rejected him, didn’t you?” he pointed out, blithe as ever. “John’s a handsome enough man, even with those new scars on his face. Not to mention that tent of his… so why’d you say no?”

“Well, because of—” Karen stopped short, lips pressed tightly together. “Because of Abigail.”

“There, see?” Sean  judged it safe to close the distance between them, that damned cavalier smile back on his face. “John is hers, even if she wouldn’t claim him to save her life. As for myself… well, I’d be yours, if only you’d have me.” He reached for her hand, holding it loosely in his own. “Karen.”

Her heart gave a little thrill at the way her name sounded on his tongue, the same way it had ever since the first time he’d said it. Ka-ren, that soft lilt, the mischievous glint in his eye, as though her name was a secret the two of them shared.

Karen glared up at him, fighting the urge to pout. The last rays of sunlight shone full on his face, highlighting every last freckle, all the places she secretly wished she could kiss without his knowing. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him… she liked him too much for her own good. But she also didn’t feel like dealing with his ego, should he find out just how much she cared. There was that pitying, cloyingly sweet look again, his head falling to the side as he graced her with a set of beaten puppy-dog eyes that would have better fit Mary-Beth’s little O’Driscoll.

“I love you,” Sean insisted softly, drawing her close. He reached out, calloused hands caressing the mole on her face before trailing down her neck. Her heart raced in answer, pulse thrumming in her ears. This, too, was just another part of the game they played. Attack and retreat, maneuver and counter maneuver, just like the chess Dutch always spoke of. “I’m head over heels for you.”

“You always say that.”

“I always mean it.”

“You do not. You think I’m superior.”

“And you think I’m a clown.” His lips brushed her cheekbone in a fleeting kiss, light enough that he could argue it was accidental, and she realized just how dangerously close she was to being his girl after all. “Doesn’t matter none to me, though. I’m still in love with you, Karen Jones.”

Water on a cookfire.

“Don’t say that.” She pulled away, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What? What’d I do?”

“Just don’t say it like that!” He could love her all he wanted, love her until the end of time, but to be in love… that was something else entirely. This wasn’t one of Mary-Beth’s romances, where the swooning maiden is spirited off to a happily-ever-after on the back of a white stallion. Sean was no knight. He was no brooding gentleman with a vast fortune, or a wealthy rake stealing the hearts of young debutantes. He was an outlaw and a scoundrel, through and through. He was a shooting star, destined to burn brightly before the inevitable.

Women like her, who dared to love men like him, always had their hearts broken in the end. That was simply the way of things.

“But—” His face crumpled, and for a moment he looked as though it would have hurt less to punch him in the gut.

“C’mon,” she interrupted, unwilling—unable—to stomach any sort of reply. “Let’s head back before they send out a search party. Any longer, and they’ll start to think we’ve been nabbed by one of these feud-crazed families.” Karen set off without another word, picking her way back down the incline and heading in the direction she’d come.

Sean followed behind her at his usual pace, loping right on her heels and keeping quiet for a change. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the trail, not trusting her heart to be strong should she turn and find him anything less than cheerful. He overtook her as they neared the tree line, bursting into camp and practically tackling Lenny with one his loudest devil-may-care laughs.

“The night’s young, my friend!” he crowed, flinging an arm around the startled man’s neck and half-dragging, half-leading him towards the provisions wagon. “There’s whiskey to be had, and I’m dying of thirst!” Had she not seen it with her own eyes, she would have never guessed that he’d been so crestfallen only moments before.

Was it that easy to shrug aside his own feelings, or… was he that good at hiding them?

Karen turned towards the lean-to she shared with the other girls, feeling as though the world itself rested on her bent shoulders. The burr had festered into something that wasn’t quite anger, but wasn’t quite not, either. She found Mary-Beth seated on her bedroll, scribbling away in that journal of hers as though her life depended on it. The young woman glanced up at the sound of her approach, her smile fading once she caught sight of her friend.

“Karen! What on earth is the matter!?”

“Sean—” She paused, surprised to hear tears in her voice. “Sean said he loved me.” She began to undress for bed, her chest hot and tight.

“Well, that…” Mary-Beth sat the journal down, chewing the inside of her cheek. “What’s that got to do with anything?” she finally asked. “That’s nothing to be upset over. He says it at least twice a day, if not more.”

“I know,” Karen agreed dully, flopping face-down on her own bedroll. She turned so that her back was to the camp, drawing her knees up to her chest with a watery sigh.

“It’s just… this time, I think he actually meant it.”

[thefallenangelsgang]

BALDUR'S GATE 3 x MAMMA MIA! AU

CHARACTERS

[YOU HAVE PERMISSION TO USE MY IDEA FOR ANYTHING YOU WANT, I ONLY ASK YOU CREDIT ME]

(break to save your dash)

Now, not every character is going to fit cleanly into character slots (there are too many characters to fill the main cast) so some of our Baldur's Gate loves will be sharing character traits and plot devices amongst each other.

Let’s start with Donna: She will be played by Tav obviously. I mean there really is no other choice here. We need someone who has gotten romantically entangled with multiple if not all the companions. The one unfortunate snag is that Tav has to carry or otherwise create the child of dubious parentage without the other parent knowing. That does pigeonhole the characterization a bit unless you want to go the magic route with it (which opens a line of ethical questioning beyond not telling the Parent of your child about the existence of said child)

For the purposes of this thought experiment, I'm operating under Tav being AFAB and having a womb to carry the baby. I’m also operating under the idea that all the companions have the reproductive organs of the gender they present as in game. If anyone wants to actually do something with this they are free to do whatever the fuck they want and use whatever headcanons they want. 

Sophie is going to be played by Tav’s kid. This one doesn’t have a hard and fast gender rule (TIL Sophus is the masculine version of Sophie) but they have to want to know who their other sire is and be generally chaotic which is not hard when they’ve grown up with the Tadfools as their role models. It is important that they display mostly Tav’s traits with others that could be any one of their other parent’s. (think Amanda Siefried and Meryl Streep are both blonde and similarly built. Sophie draws like Sam and sings and plays like Harry and has Bill’s adventurous spunk)

For ease of writing Tav’s Kid will be referred to as Soph from here on out.

Speaking of Sires, the Dads:

Sam: I waffled a LOT on who to choose out of the Baldur’s Boys because I wanted to keep it to just the traditional three and to just companions. You can obviously shuffle around people (I'm sure the Rolan girlies (gender neutral) would love putting him in this AU) and expand the possible dad list (though I don’t know how to split the characteristics like the Donna’s Friends). I chose to go with Gale here. I think he fits the very no nonsense and very anxious vibes from Sam in the show/movie. Instead of a business person who “went home to get married” perhaps Gale got called upon by Mystra as her Chosen and left to focus on his Wizardry. He is definitely the kind to break Tav’s heart over duty and be so ashamed he doesn’t really speak to them for 20 years. 

Bill: This one was damn near a no brainer once I was considering it. It’s Halsin. Who better to be the Hippie, fun-loving, sex god and travel writer? He retains all his Baldur’s Gate characteristics. His experience with Tav is truly just a bit of fun before they both go their separate ways. Their relationship is HEAPS less frigid than Gale and Tav’s. 

Now this is where you can go two ways with this. You could give Halsin is canon good ending (Reithwin with the kids) BUT we miss Bill being scared shitless at the prospect of having a child which I always loved as a characterization (Skarsgard plays it like a champ in the film, he looks like he’s gonna have a heart attack lmao). I feel like Clan Dad Halsin after 20 years is way too open to the idea of having something permanent like a kid. Wandering Arch Druid Halsin might be a little more scared shitless at the idea. That one is a personal preference, I think I’d prefer Reithwin Halsin even though I miss the majesty of an internal conflict.

Harry: Now this one also was a no-brainer but needs to be explained with some tact. It’s Astarion. It is not because Astarion is the most effeminate of the group. For those that don’t know, Harry is canonically gay. The companions are all pan. I chose Astarion because there is an opportunity to do something else transformative with Astarion and Tav’s tryst. 

In Mamma Mia, Harry talks about how Donna is the last and only woman he’s loved and their time together helped him accept his sexuality. In the stage show he’s in a committed relationship (his partner's name is fully escaping me atm). It always stuck out to me that Donna changed Harry and that’s why he still loves her after all these years. Sam obviously regrets leaving to do what was expected of him because he didn’t love his first wife. Bill sees the life of adventure and companionship he could have had with Donna but acknowledges that that time is behind them and still loves her anyways. And Harry loves that Donna made him see himself clearly for the first time in his life and loves her for it. You can see why Astarion came to mind I hope. 

Astarion’s night with Tav was him figuring out what intimacy meant to him after finally closing the Cazador Chapter of his life. The encounter was brief but it changed him for the better and allowed him to start healing.

EDIT: I realized I didn’t cover Astarion’s Vampirism at all. For story purposes assume he has some kind of temporary solution to the sun issue because I need his ass to be present when this is set on a fantasy Greek island. The Dhampir issue is… something. I sludged through some further thought experiments. Tav and the kid being Tieflings hides the fang coloration issue. Explaining away that the characteristics haven’t presented yet because the kid is still quite young by nearly all standards (20 is just barely of age for humans, and though they are full grown biologically they are still children in Elven society) and also have been largely sheltered from danger their whole life also works.

But to be honest, despite what the second movie and its director want you to believe, I think Harry is the least likely father of the three. I am comfortable extending this to Astarion. 

Okay now we are into the Dynamos! Fuck yes! Rosie and Tanya are my favorites (it helps that they are PERFECTLY casted in the movie oh my god). I have split their characteristics across the girls. There are some of the companions that are obviously one or the other (Karlach is the most Rosie coded while Minthara SCREAMS Tanya) while others send mixed signals (Shadowheart is the most even, skewing towards Tanya slightly while Lae’zel has Tanya’s bitchy attitude and Rosie’s  “lone wolf” outlook) SO I’m going to make a chart

Like Astarion, for story purposes, assume Karlach’s heart issue has been solved.

Graphic design is my passion

ANYWAYS you may have noticed three of our friends are missing from this line up. Our intrepid Folk Hero Formally Known As The Blade of Frontiers, Wyll, Pack Mother, Jaheria, and her trusty ride or die Rashamen, Minsc (and don’t forget Boo!). 

I had some trouble with these nerds because initially I was playing with making Wyll the second half of Sam, he would have usurped the businessman and maybe the gone home to get married bit while Gale was the heartbreaker and took something from Bill’s characterization, but I was having trouble with losing character motivations. Plus Wyll is canonically not the type for flings. So I am having him be a good family friend invited to the wedding but not involved in the parentage. He essentially is a more involved part of the Greek Chorus. He could take Sam entirely if you are not the type for Gale but you will see why I did this when I get into the songs (yes I am that fucking insane about this.) 

Jaheira does have the countenance to be a Dynamo BUT there is this minor character that I think about way too often that I wanted her to take. She is only mentioned in the first movie and the stage show in one line and seen a little in the second movie (which is a fever dream and convolutes the “lore” but I love it anyways). It’s Bill’s Great Aunt Sophia that left Donna the money to start Villa Donna. OBVIOUSLY she isn’t directly going to be playing Halsin’s Great Aunt or be dead (though she will be ancient by then) but she’s going to fill the mentor role for Tav and help out with Soph. She is the only one who knows that Gale Halsin and Astarion are the possible fathers until the beginning of the shenanigans.

Minsc, like Wyll, doesn’t have a direct parallel. He is also a part of the more involved Greek Chorus. He is Soph’s crazy uncle. He got them into all kinds of trouble and still does to this day. He gives a less emotional and personal version of Sam’s “are you sure you want to do this, you are so young” speech that essentially is offering to run off and be warriors (His plan does not get them away from anyone, he’s unanimously elected that the entire tadfool group is coming with them). But he does it after Gale gives the original speech that severely upsets Soph so it serves as a cheer up speech (“Minsc is unsure if the Wizard should come along seeing as he has upset the little warrior so, but Boo says he is very useful and Minsc agrees. So he can come with, but he does not get to pet Boo’s furry little bottom!”). 

The rest of our Greek Chorus and people like Sky and Sophie’s Friends are filled out by various NPCs. Pepper is played by Mol. Ali and Lisa are open to OCs to be honest but the idea of Yenna and Arabella hearing the saucy details of a story they were partly involved in is really funny to me so they are listed in the song list as the backup singers. Sky is an OC because I wasn’t fully comfortable using any of the child NPCs. He’s referred to as Soph’s partner.

[acti-veg]

what do you do for work? any advice for a 25yr old who doesn't know what to do after they finish their master's degree?

I work in communications in the financial services sector. It is mostly writing and delivering internal communications, newsletters, presentations, basic graphic/video editing, managing employee engagement - that sort of stuff. It isn’t particularly exciting but I’m good at it and I find the work easy. It is really flexible in terms of hours, I work from home most days and it affords me a good work-life balance, which I really value.

It depends a bit on what your degree is, but I’ll assume since you’re asking that it isn’t a technical degree tied to a specific field. It also depends what you personally value in a job, whether it is money, job security, a good work-life balance, the ability to travel, progression, flexibility etc. I can speak in general terms at least, about some of what I’ve learned about work over the years.

Firstly, I’d recommend building a specialism. If you want to make good money and have secure employment, you need to find a niche and carve out your place in it, rather than bouncing between different roles and industries. Your work history should tell a story of someone developing expertise in a specific thing - it almost doesn’t matter what that thing is. That does take time, so expect to float around a little bit before you find something that is for you.

Unless you go into a field specifically related to your degree (most people outside of the sciences and technical degrees don’t), you shouldn’t expect to go into a graduate role immediately. You may get lucky and get onto a graduate program, but otherwise, you’ll just be getting your foot on the ladder. Look for a company/industry you want to work for, not necessarily the job you want, because they’ll want experience for that role. Most companies want to hire internally in my experience, so get in the company, get a good reputation for six months or so, then start applying for the roles in that company that you actually want.

It would be great if you can do something you love, and that makes a difference in the world. But we hear plenty about that, how if you do what you love you’ll never work a day in your life. That is what I imagined work would be like while I was in uni, but honestly, what I wish someone had told me is that sometimes a job is just a job. It doesn’t have to be your calling, you don’t have to find meaning in it. Your job can just be how you pay the bills without working yourself to death, and you can find meaningful work and activities outside of your 9-5. That is perfectly okay.

What you need to ask yourself is not “what do I want to do for a job?” But “what do I want to do with my time?” Is helping animals or other people the most important thing to you? If it is, you won’t find many jobs in it, the ones that do exist are wildly competitive, and severely underpaid. That may be a worthwhile trade off for you to be happy, but if it isn’t, you could also take a well paying day job and use your time to volunteer outside of work.

Is a family most important goal for you? If so, you want a stable income and good flexibility. Do you love learning and academia more than anything else? If so, consider a PHD program. You can always take a part time job in service, retail, bar work etc. while you survey the job market. Decide where your priorities are, even though these will change over time.

As soon as you get that first job though, start contributing to your pension. If you’re in a country where employers pay in, pay up to whatever the maximum your employer will match. This will matter to you sooner than you think. Start putting aside money for an emergency fund of 3-6 months of basic living expenses, then start investing as early as you can, so you can benefit from compound growth while saving up for a house deposit. Do this even if you have no intention of getting a house yet.

Above all, remember that despite appearances and what you may see on instagram, no one else in their 20’s knows what they are doing with their life either. Most of us are still figuring it out in our 30’s and 40’s. There will be times when it feels like you’re behind your peers, or that other people are more successful than you are. Comparison is the thief of joy.

Just stay focused on the kind of life you actually want, not what other people tell you that you should want. On the meantime, work hard to maintain your friendships and family connections as life gets busier, you move further away, people start having kids etc. Just don’t be in any hurry to ‘figure things out,’ life may move quickly, but you’ve still got plenty of time. Enjoy it!