#not caring about rules that have been set
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"Things were just very different after that attack," he explained cautiously, his arms crossing absently in front of him in some quiet attempt to reassure himself. That time was it's own horror but at least he wasn't in for any revelations about it through suddenly accessible memories of it. "I wasn't able to trust anyone in The Program after that, only Samantha and she had her own burdens to bare aside from me." The breaking up of O-Cell had been a shock to the system for the pair of them and just in time for the new way of working to come in too. "I am still very distrusting of other agents, though I try my best not to be." Paranoia brought its own challenges, "another disorder I have earned from working for Delta Green." Though that in particular had been because of Sloane, again though, details.
"She basically set it up, but she speaks to agents who do very foolish things, break the rules or jeopardise themselves and their fellow agents." He said of Samantha, "she's very good at her job and other agents don't know how lucky they are she's there."
Theo managed a short and quiet chuckle that still wasn't quite right but he was at least amused at her agreeing he did indeed lecture her. Surprised that she had been hoping for one and not realising it was because she would see it as a sign of him returning to normal. Though he didn't particularly want to talk about his work for Delta Green he wanted the dangers well known and understood to her but he supposed he could open it to her to ask and that way he could understand what it was that seemed to intrigue her most. "What do you want to know about it? I can't promise to answer but I'll tell you what I can."
Still he was pleased when she revealed that she would be careful about her own security when talking about her travels and would take steps to protect herself. What really delighted him though was the reveal that she no longer wanted to work for Delta Green. The wave of relief that appeared on his face was unmissable and Theo's shoulders that had been so tense for days seemed to relax just a tiny bit more. Her reasoning was both a reassurance and a sadness that she had only needed to understand what Delta Green had done to him to be deterred from joining.
"I am so pleased to hear that," he told her straight and honestly. "I was so worried when you said you wanted to join them, I should have explained it all sooner but... I couldn't." He was still struggling in being honest with her, but he thought as long as he was mindful not to reveal too much he could get away with it, especially with her no longer wanted to be an agent. "You would be right, if they had just asked, I would have agreed. But that method has long been obsolete it is still a questionable organisation in its own right." Threatening and killing agents as it needed to.
𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy
"Why... why did you stop working together after Sloane's attack?" Violet didn't really know, of course, that they used to be a close-knit cell, and that Sloane's betrayal had left invisible scars on Samantha, too.
"I didn't know Delta Green had an HR department." That seemed very... corporate of them. "What does she do?" It was a relief to know that her dad could call Samantha if needed, as this week was proof that she would be there for him. But it would have been much more reassuring to know she was out there on the field with him. Violet remembered how fiercely Samantha had protected him, in that abandoned parking lot.
She managed a little smile. "I don't mind the lectures," she explained, "in fact, I was kind of hoping you were going to lecture me today." It would have been the final proof that he was feeling better. "But I like this conversation better. What else did you want to tell me? About the Program, and... your work as an agent?" She wanted to know everything he was willing to tell her. It was a part of his life he usually never revealed. And she always worried so much, whenever he left on a "work trip."
Her dad's reassurance widened her smile a little bit, it even brought a slight flush of pink to her cheeks. "Thank you, Dad." But she was still taking his warning very seriously. "I won't tell anyone else," she promised, "and I'll be careful, I won't talk about it on the phone." The last thing she wanted was for people to think she was a cultist, or that she worshipped the Horned One. The thought alone made her nauseous.
"I understand. And... you know, Dad, I don't want to work for them anymore." Violet suddenly realized she hadn't told him yet, until now. "After meetin' Agent Davidson, and seeing what the Program did to you... I don't want to work for an organization like that. I know their goal is noble, but... I don't think the greater good justifies treating people like this. They tricked you and hurt you when they could have just asked you instead. You... you told me you wanted to open a special FBI branch, to fight monsters. I know you would have accepted if they had just asked."
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THIS IS A HAPPY HOUSE
── ♡ RUGGIE BUCCHI
loving you is fighting.
“Well, aren’t you lookin’ gorgeous?” The compliment is paired with a kiss to your cheek, and you swat Ruggie’s arm lightly while laughing, jesting him that all he’ll be getting on his mouth is sunscreen from the amount you lathered onto your skin. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you against him as he takes a moment to fully admire you in front of the full-length mirror. For now, it all felt peaceful and you truly believed you were going to enjoy this rare holiday with him.
You both have breakfast in the hotel, and the inevitable downslide happens and you were right to believe in the stone lodged in your throat.
You fiddle with your fork nervously as Ruggie carefully reaches for the tupperwares tucked away in his gym duffle bag. You don’t begin to point out how it goes against the strict rules of the hotel. He knows. He doesn’t care. Your eyes shift nervously across the room, a habitual instinct of searching to make sure no employees are making rounds across the hall. A few passing guests, carrying plates with greens and freshly cut fruit, give judgemental glances as they pass your table but do not intervene outside of that. You can feel your face burn.
“Ruggie, you can’t take any of this home,” You whisper to him, trying to keep your tone level so he doesn’t pick up on the frustration that is coursing through your being. “Why are you packing so much?”
He lifts his head from where he had been dumping a plate full of noodles into one of the plastic containers and only raises a brow as if the answer were obvious.
“It’s for us,” He says and elaborates when you don’t respond, “It’d be a waste if we paid this much just for breakfast. We’ll take ‘em back to our room and heat it in the microwave we got there. It’ll last us a couple of days easily.”
He gives you a grin that had once been so charming to you, back when you were a bright-eyed and overeager kid who was irrationally attracted to the excitement and trouble he brought along. Now, it’s only irritating you and his expression drops when he picks up on the slight twitch of your eye. Despite you not having said anything to chide him, his mood drops instantly along with his smile. His lips press into a thin line and his eyes narrow, a clear look of contained annoyance and disappointment that you have become familiar with over the past few months.
“What’s bothering you?” He asks, but you know it’s not out of any real concern. It’s an invitation to argue, because you know whatever answer you’ll give him, he’ll defend himself with his life. You huff, lowering your gaze back to your plate rather than looking at the glacial hue his eyes have become.
“Nothing. Do what you want,” Is all you mumble and neither of you look at each other even when you both arrive back to the room and you make a half-hearted excuse about wanting a nap. He leaves for the gym with nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgement and you bury your face into the plush pillow of the bed and cry yourself to sleep.
The sun has set by the time he’s back. You blearily lift your head, the corner of your eyes caked with sleep crust, and you make out his silhouette from the dark of the room. You drop your head back into the sheets. He passes by your bed and there is silence in place of his footsteps. You feel his lips press against your temple, a silent peace offering you have become accustomed to. Despite the almost-routine nature of it, your heart still flutters in your chest.
You still love Ruggie Bucchi, even when you both eat out of tupperwares for dinner.
You admire the gold interior of the lounge with wide eyes, forgoing your initial intentions of not seeming like an overexcitable tourist. The high-rise ceilings, the luxury carpet underneath your feet and the enchanting chandelier muddle your senses together, a pleasant blur, and for these sparing minutes, you imagine a life where this type of luxury is familiar to you.
You scold yourself immediately.
There is a call of your name from a hauntingly familiar voice that did not belong to Ruggie and you whip around in surprise. Riddle Rosehearts, now older from his teenhood but easily recognisable, stands in the middle of the foyer with wide eyes. You can’t stop the grin that spreads across your lips at the sight of the redhead. While you both haven't seen each other since graduation, you did become good friends as a result of your near-constant presence in Heartslabyul thanks to Ace and Deuce. There is no better bonding than constant exposure, and that held true for you and Riddle.
You bound over to him and he makes the short walk to meet you halfway, a polite but genuine smile gracing his features.
“It’s great to see you,” He greets you and you mimic him with more enthusiasm. “I never expected to run into you like this. How are you?”
You fill him in on the events that happened since you’ve last seen each other, leaving out certain details. You tell him how you have moved into a new apartment (it’s a one-bedroom with a leaky faucet and peeling floorboards), how your relationship with Ruggie is going strong (you both argued just this morning), and that you have been doing great at work (you lost your chance at a promotion after months of overtime).
“I’m glad to see you are doing well for yourself,” He tells you and you can feel his sincerity from just how pleased he looks. Riddle had always wanted others to be at their best, including you, and your heart swelled at the approval in his eyes. You try to ignore the ball and chain on your ankles in the form of your bold-faced lies.
“Are you vacationing as well?” You ask him and he nods.
“Yes, with my wife. We were planning on having lunch at a bistro nearby,” He explains and you gasp excitedly, almost startling him.
“You’re married?” You ask him excitedly, wide-eyed and beaming and his face turns a flustered shade of pink.
“Yes,” He says and his tone is laced with unbridled affection as he speaks. “It’s going to be our anniversary soon and she had always wanted to travel around the Shaftlands.”
You can hear the simpering timbre in his voice and your chest squeezes, eyes intuitively falling on the gold band decorating his ring finger. Riddle is no longer the short-fused boy who used to tutor your trio of friends or save you a seat during tea parties. He is a married man in love, wearing expensive clothes and a happy wife he is travelling around the country with. Your ring finger remains bare and he is tactful enough not to comment on it. His phone buzzes suddenly, breaking you out of your stupor and he looks at the screen, a twinkle in his eyes.
“I should get going, she’s waiting outside,” He bids you goodbye hurriedly and you urge him to go as quickly as he can, watching his back disappearing behind the glass revolving doors. You don’t know when and if you’ll see him again, and for some reason it makes your heart sink.
“What the hell,” There is a grumble beside you and you jolt, whirling around to find Ruggie, phone in hand as he runs a hand through his hair. He looks at you suspiciously when your surprise seeps into your expression.
“What’s up with you? You look like you’ve seen a gh—are you crying?” For the first time in what seemed like months, you can hear the fret in Ruggie’s voice as he looks over you carefully and your head swims at the realisation that it’s been so long since you felt like he’s paying attention towards you. Not about the rent, not about food expenses, not about the bills. There is only you now.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” You blink away whatever tears threatened the corner of your eyes, plastering on a weak smile. He doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t push the subject anymore, fixing his gaze back to his phone.
“Okay… well, taxi fares cost an arm and a leg here. It’s better if we walk to the aquarium,” You stare at him incredulously, your brief moment of nostalgia and yearning to dissipate under a familiar spike of anger.
“Walk there? For over an hour? In this heat?” You stress between every pause and his face sours, a scowl on his lips and eyebrows pursing together.
“What do you want me to do? I’m not blowing all my money away on a single fare,” He scoffs. Your bottom lip trembles, something unkind sitting on the tip of your tongue that takes all your might to swallow away. You turn away from him.
“Fine, whatever.”
By the time you reach the aquarium, your clothes stick to your skin and your legs threaten to give out under you. The colourful fishes no longer held any appeal to you, because all you can think about while walking with your disgruntled boyfriend is how Riddle and his wife would be at a fancy bistro right now, enjoying lunch together with matching smiles, their rings glittering under the sun.
“Are you ever going to marry me?” You ask on the sullen walk back to the hotel, your gaze fixed on the twinkling stars. From the corner of your eyes, you can see Ruggie eyeing you as if you had just told him the sky is green.
“Huh?” He stammers out, and maybe his nervousness at the subject would have been cute if the both of you were still teenagers. Now, in your late twenties, all it does is make you sick to your stomach. “Why are you bringing it up now?”
“No reason,” You mumble, so quiet it could have disappeared with the passing breeze. There is a brief silence that goes uninterrupted by the chirping of the cicadas and the crunching of gravel under your shoes. Then, you feel a tug on your arm. You turn to look at Ruggie.
“I know you wanna get married. Trust me, I wanna put a ring on your finger as well,” He speaks softly, and you falter at the affection in his eyes as he gazes at you. However, his voice then takes a firm turn. “But it’s expensive and we just don’t have that kinda money right now. We don’t need to be married to belong to each other.”
“Will we ever have the money?” You snap, unable to stop the words before they leave your lips. You regret it when a look of hurt crosses over his expression, his ears flattening all the while. He turns away first as if he couldn’t stand to look at you, and you wish there was a river nearby that you could toss yourself into.
He sleeps on the couch that night.
The next day passes by in a blur. Your itinerary packed with activities goes down the drain in lieu of the argument, and Ruggie disappears before you wake up with a single text letting you know he’ll be back before midnight. You eat from the tupperware tucked away in the fridge, despite how even looking at it incites the kind of anger that makes you want to break anything within your line of sight.
You decide to treat yourself to a cup of coffee from the cafe downstairs, in hopes that it may help soothe the misery, regret and rage bubbling in the pits of your stomach.
Despite your initial assumption that you would likely not be seeing Riddle again, it’s a stroke of luck when you run into each other on the way to pick up your order. This time, however, he’s not alone.
In contrast to him, his wife is more friendly and outgoing but with an unmistakable air of elegance to her that came naturally to someone of a higher class. All he had to do was introduce you as an old schoolmate, and suddenly she had invited you to sit at their table and request you to recite stories of her husband as a teenager.
“He’s so tight-lipped sometimes,” She teases and he calls her name in warning but he doesn’t sound annoyed in the least, proving another change from his youth. You entertain her with whatever memory you can recall, such as your first-ever impression of him when he had collared Ace for eating a tart in the fridge, or how he put oyster sauce in his apology dessert. By the time you are finished, she is giggling while Riddle has resorted to giving you a flat stare, but the bell of his wife’s laughter dissipates any negative feelings.
Not for the first time, your stomach coils and suddenly all you can see is Ruggie’s toothy grin before the scene melts away to hardened, narrowed glares and the tight pull of his lips. Did his mild vexations use to fade away at the sound of your laughter, instead of starting up another round of arguments?
No, it’s unfair to an eighteen-year-old Ruggie for you to even ponder this question. There was a time when you would misspeak or clumsily drop something and break it. Instead of meeting you with ire, he would lazily toss the weight of his body behind you, his arms wrapping securely around you as he swayed you around. Back then, you felt like you had everything without needing anything material.
You missed it when Ruggie’s slouch and tired eyes were replaced with his easygoing disposition and cunning charm. Back then, being with Ruggie was exciting. You should be disgusted, ashamed even, for thinking this way of your boyfriend of almost ten years.
Yet, you feel nothing. Your own apathy scares you.
“Are you alright?” Riddle’s wife is the first to notice your disconnect, her soothing voice interrupting your depressive train of thought. Her manicured hand rests on your shoulder, concern apparent in her eyes and you feel bile rise to your throat, which you weakly swallow down.
“I’m fine,” A practised lie, almost a catchphrase to you at this point, and the couple believe you without any hesitance. You come up with an impromptu excuse that you need to meet with Ruggie, and excuse yourself from the table with polite farewells. You dare not to glance back.
“Where were you?” Ruggie asks, scaring you when you unlock the door to the room. You shift uncomfortably on your feet, faltering at your reply despite the fact you know he’s only being conversational, nothing confronting in the way he has his feet kicked up as he scrolls through channels. Yet, another lie escapes your lips.
“I went for a walk to stretch my legs,” You drop your bag onto the table, tactfully keeping your back towards him. You hear him hum at your response.
“That’s nice—” He breaks into a yawn, and flops to his side. He pats the spot next to him on the bed, and you only stare at him. “Man, I’m beat. C’mere, lay next to me.”
When his invite is met with silence, he repeats your name curiously.
“Um, sure…” You make your way over to him, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s enough for him to reach over, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you down to rest beside him, inciting a yelp from you. “What’s the occasion?”
“I need a reason to take a nap with the love of my life now?” He questions teasingly and your heart drops. He notices your frozen expression, his hand letting go of your waist so he props himself above you with an arm. He looks down at you, downturned eyes scrutinising and concerned.
“Hey, what’s up? You’ve been acting… different lately,” He speaks gently, carefully cupping your cheek. His hand is warm, and yet it’s not enough. You are still cold. You are still cold. It’s enough to finally spring tears in your eyes, and suddenly all you can feel is Ruggie. Calloused fingers brush against your skin, wiping at the tears rolling down the apples of your cheeks. He mutters hushed reassurances, that you’re going to be okay and that he’ll love you no matter what.
Yet, you cannot echo those words back at him, even when you have calmed down and he has dozed off with you in his arms. He was yours, unequivocally and whole. You were not his.
#twst#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst wonderland#ruggie bucchi#ruggie bucchi x reader#ruggie x reader#twst ruggie#twst ruggie x reader#twisted wonderland ruggie#reader insert#x reader
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Writing Request - Reader x Josh (Until Dawn) Body Shots🫗
Y'all thought I only did rottmnt? Nah, and @mermmarie tapped me for some reader x Josh Washington body shot goodness! We're in the last day, people! I might not get too man more of these done but encourage your friends to vote!
From now until the poll closes, if you can prove to me that you voted Hassan/Mikey in this poll then I will do any short story writing request like the one below or draw you any doodle of your choosing!
ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.
We got a little mature content down below, but not explicit! Enjoy~
The party was in full swing. The house was bursting at the seams with people and every step had to be taken by the side. You squirmed past others, not bothering with apologies and only trying to find a sliver of enjoyment in a sea of decadence. The Washington's had always been known for their ragers, but hearing tale and seeing them in person was something else.
You needed a drink.
You were trying your best to get one, but you kept getting boxed out. Between the multi-room mansion and the throngs of people, you were just about done with getting shoved. A crack opened up between two people making out and you made a dash for it. They stumbled for inebriation and made waves which resulted in a parted sea. It was a clean trip to an embarrassingly large kitchen and a drink selection that would make a bar jealous.
You held your cup close and the liquid went down sweet with the mixture with a satisfying burn on the back end. It was perfect in knowing exactly how much intake you were getting and you mingled as your body loosened. A song you liked came on and you swayed with its motion. The thump settled into your brain and its bass took your body.
It helped you slip into a satisfied trance and forget that your friends had dipped last minute. In any other scenario you might not have gone alone, but you had spent all that time getting ready. Fuck it, you thought, you looked too good to waste it on another night at home so you'd gone out.
You would be careful enough, you long decided. Your drink was never out of sight and if it did, they had more than enough liquor for you to pour another. You had nothing on you to pinch beside your phone and that was safely tucked away in a place that you would know in an instant if anyone was copping a feel.
Such a thing was happening now as someone ground against your ass in rhythm and you lolled your head back in time to see who it was. A mediocre man was a little too bold behind you, but you supposed that was to be expected. It was always those guys who had just enough to their facial structure that sloppily thought they could reach above their standards.
This was the main fare of the party, the average masses. You danced with him before you felt his hand ghost over your arm. It felt a little more leading and you thought he might grab your and to finally face you, but instead he shot away. The warning signs went off in your mind and you clearly saw your cup blocking the way. With a dreary glance you knew that meant it was time to dump it and left whoever behind to go refresh your beverage.
Someone screamed out something about a chance of hail and there was a shattering. You looked up where you were pouring a bottle and could sort of see out of a kitchen window through overly floral curtains. Outside some boys had proudly torn their shirts off and were just as busy peacocking as they slammed back shots. It was entertaining enough and you sipped as you headed out there.
You watched on with some amusement as a violent game had been concocted. You never did figure out whatever rules they had set, but the clear goal was drinking and then hucking the small glass receptacles as hard as possible at some gaudy sculpture. It was a movie set piece, you vaguely knew, from the Washington's dad, that had taken root in the garden with a few other ugly pieces.
"Where's Josh!? He's got the arm! He could hit peak, I know it!"
"Yeah, man!"
"Where's our Party Poobah?!"
"What the fuck!?"
There was good natured ribbing and you concealed your mouth as you turned away from the games.
Josh.
It wasn't like you expected to see the man of the hour. He was legendary for hosting these parties, but he was just that. He was there for the purpose of getting lost in himself. The action was where he was and everything around that was a merry hurricane. He was the epicenter and since he attracted only level five events, he was an anomaly.
You wouldn't just be lucky to see him, it would be some kind of miracle.
It was about on par as getting into a VIP section. Skinny girls with pale skin were guaranteed access and that alone bored you. Men's picks for stereotypical hot chicks as about on par with the audacity of the large swathe of average guys. It was all an exhausting back and forth game of mediocrity that you would have no part of.
"Move aside! We're on a mission!"
That was Josh.
With your arm crossed to more comfortably hold your cup, your head rose high.
Speak of the devil and he doth appear, you amused yourself as you tried to place which direction he was. The music just swallowed up noise enough that it happened to throw voices. It filled in space you might have hoped to delineate, but said man had the power to conjure storms.
"This is the party police!" Josh came in with sharp eyes and a face splitting grin. "Prepare to be strip searched!!"
He was flanked by lackeys that weren't Chris, but you doubted the other man was far behind. The others weren't so easy to manipulate into Josh's little schemes and you watched as he, the boss among, them signaled them to fan out in a military manner.
They took on the role of dogs, something you had a feeling Josh had told them to do beforehand, and you watched them howl. They then fanned out, sniffing up skirts and startling men with a sharp gab to their asses. All manner of reaction was had, but when a man on all fours snuffed his way up to you, you looked down at him with enough disdain that he moved on with his tale between his legs.
"Idiots." You heard Josh say in a voice that almost seemed like he hadn't meant it.
You looked up and found him staring squarely at you.
Your gaze grew dull as he must have meant that insult for you.
There was a flash of attention in his eye before he surged forward.
"They say you can't teach old dogs, but I think that's true of all animals!"
You almost looked behind you because if he was talking to you, you weren't sure what he meant.
"Humans too." He came squarely up to you. "Don't mind them, beautiful. I've been running around looking for you all night."
"Me?" You asked him with a tip of your cup.
"Oh yeah!" He grinned with something that had a malevolently edge.
Confused signals failed to spark in your mind as he circled you.
"I mean..." He was behind you. "... look..." He came around your side with a slink. "... you..."
It oozed palpable desire and your skin lit even though he hadn't touched you.
"Gorgeous. Supple. I need you. I've been looking for candidates."
Your guard went up. "Candidates?"
"Yep." He swept up from your body and leveled with your eyes. "I'm scouting. Needed a ringer. Be mine?"
There was a boyish tilt to his last question that straddled the line between his devious nature and honest begging.
Your stomach bubbled and you shifted your hips to quell it.
Josh watched on like he picked up every micromovement. "I wouldn't just say this. I've searched the whole party. You're the one."
The whole party.
There were hundreds of girls here.
You?
It was flattering, but you still weren't sure what you were signing up for.
"And what exactly is this for...?" You lowered your cup.
Josh positively beamed. "You're the perfect glass."
Your mouth rounded out in confusion and you were about to ask when he caught your wrist.
Your hand shot up like a flag. "I've got mine!!! Let's do this!!"
"Finally!"
"Let's go!!"
"Hell yeah!!"
"Shots! Shots!"
Before you could do anything else, you were being ushered through the house. Not quite carried, your feet only hit the ground once every few steps as the mob steered you. The only constant was Josh's cuff around your wrist and besides that was the roving pack of men that puffed like slobbering sled dogs.
You were soon in a room with four massage tables set up and for the first time, you got enough ground to snap back on your tether.
"What the fuck!?"
"No, baby shh...!" Josh came around you with cautious hands. "Just look. Look!"
He moved so you could peer around him and watched as three men broke from the pack. They escorted girls of their choosing in different manners. One took one gentlemanly by the hand while another hoisted a squealing girl up in his arms. All their destinations were the tables though and they each laid down with smiles plastered to their faces. They men tended to them with hungry eyes and you watched as each of them rolled their shirts up to expose their stomachs.
"We're having a little competition." Josh said as he also surveyed the scene. "Drunkest wins."
"No, thanks." You responded instantly.
"Not you." He gave you only his profile. "Unless you wanna...?"
Your cup had disappeared in transit and you cocked a hip at him.
"Alright, alright!" He held his hands up defeated and addressed you. "I'll explain."
You cocked a brow.
"Body shots."
Both words popped off his lips and pounded in your ears.
"You see them..." He came around you like sharing a secret and used the arm over your shoulders to point at the others. "They're the idiots. They don't care about the competition. They don't even care about getting drink. They picked all these twigs and for what? You can't hold liquor in that! I'm here to party and I'm here to drink. Make sense?"
You meant to think with reason, but you saw one thing.
Josh's tongue.
Ever since he'd uttered the phrase, you had been watching it.
It rolled around his mouth.
It caressed every letter.
It tongued every nook.
Every cranny.
It was going to run over you.
The superseded reason and you held out for one last complaint. "Typical. You just want me for my body."
He recited your name so clearly that it almost seemed like he tapped some nefarious database.
You gaped at him.
"Partly true. That body is banging." His eyes dip purposefully before re-locking onto yours as he continues. "But believe me, I made sure you were invited. I'm sorry your friends couldn't make it."
It felt like there were a hundred things wrong with that statement, but the way he looked at you, like you were the only being in the world for him, shot straight to your core.
You belly button.
Where he was going to jam his tongue.
"Fine." You managed to make it seem just blasé enough.
"Excellent." He was all teeth and for a moment you feared you'd be devoured.
Instead he took your hand in a firm grip and lead you to the table. In his own fashion and unlike the others, he didn't try to force you. He stood beside and bowed for you to take the table like this was your competition to win. It made you feel all the more important as you hopped up.
He pressed along side you and his eyes never left yours as you wriggled to get comfortable on the firm table. You got as settled as you could before you went for your shirt. There was chatter all around and you thought Josh might ogle you, but he kept his gaze nothing but reassuring. He quirked a brow when you were settled and ready before he brought his head up to announce the rules.
There was a designated pourer who would come around so no one could cheat drinks. They alcohol would flow as necessary until someone tapped out or if the liquid ran out of bounds. That meant not getting slurped up before it leaked off someone's body and with that Chris walked through with a bottle held high in demonstration.
Cheers and bets were placed behind you, but Josh gave you his eyes again. "Just you and me, gorgeous."
You lowered your lashes at the all too obvious flirt and it only made him smile wider.
The competition commenced.
You couldn't really see the other tables, but you heard a loud sucking along with a girl giggling out of her mind. The next person went and the guy complained for both his girl to suck it in which earned him ire. He demanded Chris pour more, but the guy only approached you with his bottle tipped.
"Ready?"
"Always, Cochise."
Chris poured the shot into your belly button.
It pooled up and with a healthy glug and you tried not to shiver at how the room temperature drink chilled straight through your body. A little streaked through the folds in your stomach and Josh shot forward with his tongue extended. It scraped wet and warm over your skin before teasing around your center. He flicked his gaze up, making hard eye contact before his tongue retracted and his lips puckered. With the expertise of someone who had clearly done one too many hands free shots, he drank you dry.
Your stomach flipped, but he wasn't done. He circled his tongue as a moat around your belly button and licked inward for the sake of it. it spoke of what else he could do with the appendage and you arched a little off the table. He kissed down into your soft belly to ease you and you vaguely heard Chris come around again.
"That's one out!"
You blinked as you hadn't heard any dissent.
To your immediate right, the girl and guy there were fighting about how she hadn't told him she had an outie.
More booze was poured into you in your distraction and you squeaked at the chance it would be lost. Josh swept wide, drinking in your skin and catching both sides of leakage in an expert arch. Your lips crinkled a squiggled line and he lifted up with shining lips. "Doing alright there?"
"Fine. Totally fine." You hiccuped.
"Very fine." He lobbed back.
Your head flew back to the table and you heard him chuckle in a way that sounded like it was all around you.
"We're down to two!"
You didn't bother looking.
Josh had found your hand beside the table and squeezed it as he readied himself.
It was just a little mortifying, as if you needed to be soothed, but he refused to let go as Chris appeared once again.
"Bottom's up!" The glasses-clad man chuckled.
"To the top, my good man!" Josh cheered.
"You sure? The other's spilled that way" Chris glanced at his best friend.
"Oh, she can handle it." Josh looked at you.
You believed him.
Flat out, without question.
You were stupid and you liked it.
You readied your stomach in your best flex and Chris poured.
You felt yourself fill and the bare arch you were doing pushed your breasts further into the sides of your cups. The weight held heavy and parted so you had the best view for the moment your stomach overflowed and Josh dove in.
With unsightly slurps, his tongue darted fast and he sucked with all his might. He caught your skin up into his mouth in puckered moments that didn't linger because there was more booze to drink. It spilled a messy burn around your belly and he was apt to lick the plate clean even while it soaked his face.
A single drop escaped down a fold.
"Josh!" You gasped.
He was at the pinnacle of the cup and looked up at you under his euphoric lids.
The drip tickled your side before it disappeared onto the table.
"That's out!" Someone called.
An upset tore through the crowd.
Josh lazily finished his drink and you felt heat pulsing straight down your body.
When he finally came up, it wasn't to accept silver, he had only gold in his eyes.
The winner was celebrated, but Josh tucked closer into you. "You know... I feel like I've only gotten a taste..."
You held out for a single second before matching his darkened gaze. "Get ready to drink up then."
#me#fanfiction#my fanfiction#writing request#requests open#rally until the tally#until dawn#Joshua Washington#until dawn josh#josh Washington#x reader#josh x reader#until dawn josh x reader
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Minhyeok's possession
Pairing: Asmodeus x Minhyeok x Mc
Summary: Minhyeok has 20 different awakenings in the span of 5 minutes.
You know the drill, they/them Afab reader. This was writen before the official release of Asmodeus and I haven't yet read any of his story.
You had heard a lot about Abaddon before even thinking about setting foot in the region. It's a prison, a freak show, the place where neither devils nor angels want to find themselves in. But it didn't matter. You had a job to do and a regions bad reputation wasn't going to detere you from helping Hell win the war.
The first thing that you realised about Abaddon was that consent isn't a veriable. Perhaps its a bit your fault for disregarding everyone's advice and coming alone in a foreign country, but that didn't give the devils the right to grope you when you weren't looking. Your salvation came in the form of the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Asmodeus heard a lot about the decendent of Solomon walking around hell, so of course he needed a piece of you, just like everyone else.
The second thing that you realised about Abaddon was that ignoring the unwanted advances, everyone was a romantic. Every other line of Asmodeus was a flirty remark or a tease, but that didn't stop at Asmodeus alone. Your first meeting with Ronové, for exemple, involved getting your hand kissed while he made prolongued eye contact with you... you think, the mask made it hard to tell. Even Dantalian tryed to invite you to sneak in Heaven before Asmodeus glared him down. But nobody could compete with the king himself.
He took you to a private dinner that was fancy enough to fit your outfit. Even though you liked the casual atmosphere of the pub in Gehenna and the grandious golden dinners of Tartaros, the quiet and intimate atmosphere of Abaddon, combined with the smitten sanguine eyes of the devil in front of you must have been your favorite.
Everything was straight out of a movie and you don't even flinch when Asmodeus takes you to bed with him. You were ready to pay him back the only way you probably could, but you were surprised when he just cuddled close to you.
You wanted to question him, but deep down, you did enjoy the feeling of just snuggling with someone in bed, you've been missing it since... well since you went to hell. Asmodeus must have known, must have felt your desire for cuddles and he, as the generous devil that he is, took care of your wants.
The next morning, you woke up clinging to Asmodeus, his black hair cascading on your face and tickling you awake. It was such a familiar atmosphere that the name of your childhood best friend turned roomate escaped your lips. Asmodeus must have taken notice of your longing for a certain human man and fortunatly enough for him, he had the perfect opening to act.
In the human world, Minhyeok was getting desprate. He already crossed so many of his self impossed limitations. He had a rule he would never watch pornography, but there was this actress that looked just like you and he missed you so much! He promised to never jerk it to someone else, but he did, multiple times. It was starting to effect every part of his life. When he talks with Ppyong about your whereabouts and the little devil mentions you're with the king of lust, he almost explodes with jealousy.
He knows it's a bad idea as he's doing it. But humans don't think rationally when there's stakes like your potential lover on the line. Minhyeok decides to summon the bastard. He doesn't really have a plan, desire being the only thing guiding his actions. Before he even knew it, the king was right infront of him, grinning.
Lust reaked in the air even before Asmodeus made his grand appearance. After all, he was the only demon allowed to travel so freely from a realm to another, and it was all thanks to horny boys like the one in front of him. While he wasn't a believer, maybe fate had a hand to play in all of this.
Minhyeok stared in awe and fascination at the gorgeous demon before him. Asmodeus lifted Minhyeok's chin so their eyes could meet before starting to stroke his face affectionatly. Humans... such simple creatures. They think themselves up as gods and intelectuals, but some stroking and praise can make anything bow before him.
"Why did you summon me, Minhyeok, dear?"
Asmodeus' voice was a silky poison, a lullaby dragging you to your death, but the ride was too enjoyable to mind.
"I'll give anything... for one hour of love..."
Inspite of his want to appear strong and intimidating, Minhyeok sounded more like a horny teenager. It wasn't the image he wanted to display to his supposate rival, but it was all he could muster. The hypnotic beauty of the man in front of him almost made him forget about you entirely... almost.
"Such strong desires from a man like yourself. How about we make a deal? I'll help you get them under you, if you do everything I tell you. Just follow my lead and you'll have them beneath you begging for more."
Asmodeus was twirling Minhyeok's hair before leaning closer, their lips not even an inch apart. Perhaps it was an old mamalian instict, but, even without asking, Minhyeok knew how to seal the deal.
The kiss was short but passionate, filled with a familiar carnal desire. He man closed his eyes and embraced the demon, but when he opened them again, he was on top of you. You looked breathless and flustered, but he was more confused than anything. At a closer inspection, both of you were naked in a large dovet bed. He tried to move away, but he felt a strong pair of arms caging him in. The same venomous voice filled his mind once more.
"Put your hand on their breasts and grope them, tease them a bit longer, they love it. Just like this."
The man felt ghostly cold hands start to play with his erect nipples and, in tandem, his hands did the same to you.
You felt dazed with pleasure. You must be hallucinating, there's no way the somewhat shy Minhyeok was now teasing you like a porn star. Your memory is hazy, remembering just the breakfast with the Abaddon king and then... being woken up by your childhood best friend kissing you passionatly. It's not like you could complain, whenever you opened your mouth, only sounds of pleasure would come out.
"That's a good boy~"
Minhyeok whimpered at the praise and let his body be moved by the demon. He gave you a hickey, but he felt the bite and more on the same spot of his neck.
"Look at you, all excited and eager. For how long have you been waiting for me to do this to you? Tsk, such an impatient pet. I'll need to train you better in the future. What if we go out to a party and you wet yourself like this?"
Minhyeok spoke without even realising. Asmodeus loved messing with humans like this. The way they parroted whatever he told them was adorable, like getting a dog to bark on command. Dump creatures, yet so adorable. His favorite little specimens.
Asmodeus parted Minhyeok's legs, who followed suit and parted yours as well. First, a finger snakes its way inside each of the humans' holes. You never knew just how good Minhyeok was at finding your G-spot, and you'll never know how he managed to find it, guided by Asmodeus' own actions on the man's body.
A second finger followed and then a third, not for either of your enjoyment, but for Asmodeus' convenience. With a particularly brutal thrust of the digits, you cum, creaming on Minhyeok's large palm. He stared at it, unmoving for a moment as Asmodeus cackled in the background before he brought his fingers to his mouth and kitten licked them.
"Go on, Minhyeok, my boy! Shove those in your throat, trully taste her desire for you. That's right... all for you."
And so he dead, slurping messily on the three fingers, like a beast sucking the blood of its victim. The display didn't take long, but there was certainly something erotic about it.
Once Asmodeus gets bored of the forplay, he puts his real plan into fruition. His demotic, ever shifting shaft slowly enters Minhyeok from behind, resulting in him penetrating you missionary style. Every filthy comment whispered in Minhyeok's ear by the demon made its way to you, through his familiar and nostalgic voice. Every thrust into Minhyeok was a thrust into you. Without either of your knowledge, both of your bodies where only ever serving the king of lust himself.
Layed on top of you and humping like a dog in heat, Minhyeok felt like he was in heaven. His crush, roomate, bestfriend, future wife, was right under him, moaning his name, screaming, cuming for him! HIM! Only him. It was all he ever wanted.
You weren't much better either. The pleasure was intense, like you were high on aphrodisiacs, but this whole scenario of getting roughly fucked by your best friend felt like a wet dream come true. You both had cummed god knows how many times, and, inspite of your bodies protests, you continued to stay awake a tad longer.
But even the strongest human bodies have limits and Asmodeus realised that he had fucked both of you past the point of going limp. Exhausted was a cheritable expression to describe the two humans layed in front of him. They served their purpose well and Asmodeus got his end of the deal, so he decided to take the man back to where he belonged.
"Sleep well, children... you did well, I'm proud of you~"
He kissed both of their forheads and tugged them in their respective beds.
Minhyeok can't get out of bed the next morning. He can barely even remember what happened. It must have been a dream, there's no other way. Yet your moans still ring in his ear, like a catchy song you listened to on repeat, the taste of your essance still lingers on his tongue and the bruises and hickeys tell a different story, one that he wished was true. He couldn't move, but neither did he really want to. He felt fulfilled for the time being.
You wake up with soft pounding in your head and... other regions, but when you tiredly search for Minhyeok, he's nowhere to be seen, just Asmodeus holding your head on his barely covered crotch and playing with your hair. You felt like the cat on a villan's lap, but it was a conforting one. You try to mumble something, but your tongue feels heavy and the gentle touches diswayed you from questioning things any further. You just lay in blissful peace on the lap of your doomer...
#whb#what in hell is bad#whb asmodeus#whb minhyeok#whb x reader#whb smut#you know what#fuck it#i've had this fic in my drafts for almost 6 months now#tell me if my writing is still holding up after all this time#the name's a really bad pun I came up with right now#going to sleep bye
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Where I’m Meant To Be
Info - mommy kink, a little toxic, roommates, shower sex, hand job, oral (fem receiving), mix of degrading and praise, sub space, after care, crying during after care
Just about everything about her was a mystery. She’d listed this apartment with an extra room with little to no requirements. The rest seemed to be a blur; as well as us somehow falling into a Dom and sub BDSM relationship me being the sub and her being the Dom. It was a bit toxic in that there were no clear set rules.
I never approached her for sex but she came to me as frequently as she liked. She was like a wandering spirit. I never knew if she was home. I didn’t dare text her or call her. She didn’t seem the type of girl to like that. If something was serious, I left a note on the refrigerator. like if someone popped by to see her or someone called me asking for her. I wasn’t quite sure how that one worked.
There were times that I stood outside her bedroom door with an aching hard on and tried to build up the courage to knock. After 30 minutes had gone by and I knocked, It always turned out that she wasn’t there. I’ve never been in her room. Whenever we did anything it was in the bathroom the downstairs or in my room she seemed to have an uncanny ability to slip in and out of the house unnoticed by me I didn’t know any of her friends. I didn’t know her schedule or her job. All I knew that I was that I felt very differently about this girl than I’d ever felt about anyone And she was the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life. I think I was falling for her but I was terrified that our dynamic would change if I said anything.
She made it clear through her actions that she didn’t want anything serious or long-term. She made that very well known through her lack of after-care. She did patch up any thing that was too harsh, but we never cuddled and she didn’t praise me. it wasn’t even like our sessions weren’t sometimes soft. Sometimes she was the most adoring praising loving Mommy a boy could want and then it’s like it just switched off once we’d both come. I had to stop myself multiple times from pursuing more I was starting to become terrified of what my life might look like without her and I wasn’t ready to approach that so I kept it all to myself. I usually kept it all bottled in but the times that I got the closest to begging for a change in our dynamic were times like these.
Id been at half mast all day. It seems like the wind could make me horny. Every little thing made my cock twitch in my pants. I was so needy that the hair on my thigh was matted with precum. I was now in the shower, hoping that would fix this issue.
I was looking down at my raging red dick and wishing that I didn’t have to use my hands and that she were there to coax the cum out of me in the wonderful way she did.
“Fuuuuuuck,” I let out a long moan as I finally allowed myself to grasp my dick. I bit my bottom lip as I pumped ever so slightly. I still wished it was her but damn this was a relief.
“Oh my,” cooed a voice. Small hands circled around my waist. I nearly jumped a foot in the air. Surely this was a fantasy that I was hallucinating.
I turned slightly. There she was, as if my desire had called out to her in a nearly supernatural way.
She had on a sexy smirk and nothing else. I let out a small whine as my eyes skated over her heavy breasts, wide hips, and bare skin.
“M-mommy?” I asked weakly.
“Poor thing,” she said, with a small smack of my ass. I yelped and turned back as she wanted me. She sensually sunk her teeth into my shoulder as her hand cupped my swollen balls. She tugged a little and I mewled.
“You make such pretty sounds,” she giggled. I wanted to respond that her sounds and voice were like heavenly ambrosia, but then she grasped my cock. All thoughts left my brain. I choked on any response I could have formed. How could just a hand and whisper in my ear rend me this weak and powerless. It was absolutely addicting to hand over control.
“You really thought mommy wouldn’t notice how needy you’ve been lately?” She cooed in my ear. Now she was pumping me. I let out a strained moan. I was panting, my knees already weak.
“Awwww, look who is all gooey,” she purred and squeezed my tip. Dribbled of precum pathetically dripped to the shower floor.
“You know I have a camera by my bedroom door,” she whispered. Her other hand was caressing and feeling up my chest. However, those words woke me up enough out of my stupor to respond.
“Y-you do?” I stuttered.
“So often I see my poor little pet outside my bedroom door. You’re so hard, leaking through your boxers. It’s so delicious. Sometimes I pretend I’m not here just to see what you’ll do,” she giggled.
“What!” I asked, angry now. She didn’t owe me sex but she could have the decency not to torture me so.
“It’s fun to see how far I can push you.”
“You want to see what I’ll do?”
“Mhmm,” she hummed.
“I’ll show you-“
I tried to spin around. I wanted to make it like the cover of a bodice ripper. I’d catch her up in my arms and get to do whatever I wanted. I’d bury my face in the perfect breasts, I’d hold those hips so tight it bruised, I’d-
“Ah, ah, ah,” she laughed. She had me by the throat. I still didn’t know how she moved so fast. Her other hand now stroked my dick even faster. I was glad to be pressed against the shower wall because I would’ve fallen to my knees in front of her. I was in utter awe of her power.
“Shush pup, you know you don’t control anything about this. Anyway, I bet you secretly like that I make you suffer. You are just a weak little slave after all,” she said in a voice that was equal parts dangerous and sexy.
“Mommy,” was the only guttural word I could produce.
“That’s right, mommy,” she huffed. She was absolutely yanking on my cock, not being kind at all. She squeezed out the precum, draining all that I had.
I laid my head back against the shower wall and let it happen. The hot water flecked my face as I focused wholly on the pleasure. This was right, so fucking right! She needed to pull and milk every last drop from me. It wasn’t because I deserved it, but because she did. She owned my dick.
“Fuck, ahhh, fuck, m-mommy, oh fuck, you’re tugging so much,” I whined.
“Yeah, bet it makes the little wanna cum. You gonna make a dirty, spunky, mess out of your needy cock?” He mocked me.
“I-I might-“
“Fucking pathetic little bitch boy, hoping all day for mommy. It only takes my hand and you’re a drippy mess,” she crooned.
“Mommy, do you want me to cum? Can I cum? I want to, please? I want you to want me to, please,” I knew I was blabbering and nearly incoherent. I was squirming in her grasp. I’d have to do the unthinkable and pull my cock away from her if she didn’t give me permission soon.
“Are you close? You close to draining these?” She demanded, fondling my heavy balls.
“Mhmmm!” I squealed. I was curling my toes. I pressed my palms to my thighs. I was going all I could not to cum all over her hands.
“Please!” I huffed.
“Shhh, hush puppy,” she soothed, cupping my face.
“Make cummies, make them for mommy,” she whispered in the most gentle, angelic voice I’d ever heard.
I was immediately spouting cum. Rope after rope left my cock. I buried my head in the crook of her neck and nearly cried from the relief. She was whispering sweet nothings as she milked me absolutely dry.
I was still delirious as she pushed me down. My submissive instincts took over as her wet heat was pressed to my face. I lapped and zig zagged my tongue. My hands were shaky as I grasped at her ass. Who was I to ever think I could dominate her, take what I wanted, or throw her around? One handjob and I was nearly crying and my legs didn’t work.
“That’s it puppy, you’re doing so well for mommy,” she moaned. She ground against my face and buried my mouth In her like I was trying to find treasure.
Finally she released on me. The most delicious juice I’d ever tasted. I wanted it always running down my face. I panted like a dog as I slurped up all there was.
When it was over, the awkwardness descended. She promptly left the shower. I dizzily cleaned my hair. However, I was shocked that when I got out, she was there. She had a towel wrapped around her and dripping hair but she’d not left me.
“Come on,” she whispered.
“Where are we going?” I murmured. I still felt like I was deep into sub space. She didn’t answer but pulled me along.
We were at her room! Her room! She unlocked the door and let me in. If I’d been in a better state I would have cherished this. I would have examined every picture and poster and learned as much as I could.
“What’s going on?” I was beginning to wonder if this was a dream. It all seemed so perfect.
“I need a nap and a teddy bear,” she stated, and then let her eyes skate over my naked form. I felt shy, though she’d seen me bare many times. However, there was something different in her gaze right now.
“And you look soft,” she whispered.
“Really?” I asked, actual tears filling my eyes. It was possible I was more lonely and more into this girl than I’d originally thought.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she chuckled. She pulled me into her soft navy coloured bed. A blanket was pulled over us and she promptly placed me on her nipple. All her limbs were wrapped around me. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek as I suckled at her breast. She was petting my hair and squeezing me tightly with her softness. This was where I was meant to be.
@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming @lovelyrocker
#reader insert#x reader#timothee chalamet#timothee chamalet#timothee fanfic#timothee imagine#timothee x reader#timothee x y/n#timothee x you#timothée chalamet#mommy kink#timothée chalamet smut#timothee smut#where I’m meant to be
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life is so hard for a wimp like me who was born into a family of warriors plagued by blood feuds
#my own mom made fun of me just now bc she realized ive nvr been in a single fight#also called me arrogant. and naive.. and foolish...#deserved perhaps#i am often annoyed by all the drama and choose to ignore it#not caring about rules that have been set#certain families “own” certain cities and members of my family need to ask for permission to visit#but i shrimply do not respect that for it is the year 2024 and i think thats stupid 💜#stay tuned for our next episode where shion gets beat up and changes his mind#shion.txt
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i haint watched the dang chibisode and idk if ill actually watch it with sound on sdfjk but i have a hurt feeling about them casually imbuing perry with speech for a one off gag because the idea that he needs to talk to communicate is fake. we had 4 seasons of wacky magic hijinks cartoon where perry never needed verbal speech to communicate. they couldve done this gag at any point in the show but they didn't, and the fact that they didn't felt significant. perry's muteness is such a core part of his character, to me, to the way i conceive of him/write him. i don't wanna overreact to a goofy little side cartoon (even tho i'm doing it anyway) but it's still the characters, and it still upsets me! ok that's it i've said my piece
#ill watch it at some point but despite my silence i have been like obsessively anxious about this cartoon#and pestered my friend to watch it for me sDFJKL#in a month this will have either ruined pnf for me forever or i'll have changed my mind and i like it actually its fine#for now anyway i have tons of comic sketches about perry's muteness that i no longer wanna finish and share...maybe someday but not now#i had a rly great day actually but now im falling asleep in bed tipsy and a little teary over this. cuz i love perry a lot he's#really special to me. i also got that star wars perry shirt in the mail today btw. and. it's such a good pj shirt#but back on topic#it sucks when an aspect of a character that is CORE to your appreciation of them becomes casually disregarded by the writers at some point#like im certainly not ever accepting an interpretation of perry like 'secretly hed really like to be able to talk' because its#never ever been communicated. like the idea that heinz wd prefer if perry was human. its just not in the show. the opposite is true in fact#so im left feeling stupid for caring about something that some writers(inc. dan) felt was unimportant. makes me not wanna continue my art#which sux cuz i like my comic ideas! id love to finish them. i hope i get over this.#i overreact to live-updating media when im fixated on it wh is why i prefer getting into dead fandoms haha#but they keep on bringing them back to life dont they...im never safe#it was funny me trying to explain to my friend why i efel so strongly about this meanwhile hes tried to explain why he feels so strongly ab#ut AYA and my stance on that episode has always just been “cute! its fine” lmao#@ dwampy you guys made the show that follows a specific rhythm and set of rules designed to appeal to obsessive autistic brained people ok#you invited my overreaction. unsheathes katana etc#ok im goint to sleep#meta
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Killian did observe how the other man sipped and appreciated the taste of the brandy where he had not. It was a deliciously rich drink with a sweetness that brandy was known for. Not all that special to him though. "We drink for two very different reasons." He informed the other as he set his glass down.
The story of how James rose to Commodore was quite the detailed one. Hearing of his accomplishments against pirates throughout the years left Killian with a neutral expression as he listened. They were impressive yes, but events that he had heard of and were massive blows to pirates. It seems they were both familiar with one another's reputation without knowing who had been behind it.
"Seems I've done these waters a favor putting an end to the scourge of piracy. Best you not to go sharing that in any ports we stop at, I'm sure there's plenty out there who'd want to slit your throat." Killian warned knowing that other pirates wouldn't hesitate to kill the man before him.
"The colonies..." He scoffs "Reminds me of the great roman empire, conquering lands and growing so large that it all collapses. What England wants is to control the world, the Order that we had been taught is not to create peace it's about controlling people. They don't want the masses to have free will." Killian reached for the bottle and refilled both their glasses with the dark reddish brown liquid. "Even with your promotion you were still just as trapped as the slaves in shackles."
Killian pauses to lift his glass, giving it a small swirl and taking the time to appreciate the taste with a slow sip. It was tastier than he had ititially thought as he had drank his first two quickly. "All pirates are different and have their own ways of going about things. But the one thing we all agree on is freedom. No one is ruled here, I am captain not because I wanted the position but because they chose me to lead them." He took another sip and stared at the brandy as he thought back to when he lost everything he held dear to his heart.
"I don't know how I survived that storm, but I ended on an island where these pirates took me in and nursed me back to health. This was an that you could not leave, you could sail in any direction away from it and as soon as it disappeared behind you it would reappear in front of you. They had been trapped for ages trying to find a means of escape and I helped them for what felt like ten years to find a way to leave. A heist to steal a magic bean from a flying boy to take us away from Neverland, the island where you never grow old." He uses his hook to move around the charts and pushes the one of Neverland towards James to look at. "Without me they'd still be trapped there. I saved them and they made me captain. They are my family that took me in and I take care of them in return. All this treasure you see, it's everyone's equally. I buy them the best supplies and stock my ship with good food, whatever they want or need I provide. We just plunder more than we can spend."
James observed Killian’s casual confidence. The sight of Killian downing his brandy in a single go drew a soft sigh of mock disappointment from James, who shook his head lightly.
“That,” James said, lifting his glass with practiced poise, “is not how one drinks brandy, Killian. A proper gentleman—pirate or not—must savor it. Observe.”
James brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip and letting the black cherry brandy linger on his tongue before swallowing with a quiet sigh of appreciation. He arched a brow at Killian, a faint smirk playing at the edges of his lips. “It’s a drink meant to be appreciated, not inhaled like cheap rum.”
Then came the touched smile again. "Trust," James repeated, his tone almost wistful. "I suppose we both have a bit of a complicated relationship with that word, don't we? But… I do know the kind of man you are, despite the reputation, despite the ship and the crew. "
Taking another a slow sip of his brandy, savoring both the drink and the moment. "You’ve proven yourself today especially, and I can hardly ignore that. As for backstabbing, well, if there’s one thing I can say for myself, it’s that I don’t go around betraying those who show me kindness… or who don't deserve it." At least not yet…
James leaned back, cradling the brandy glass in his hand, a flicker of pride crossing his face at Killian's question. "The promotion to Commodore," he began, James leaned back, cradling the brandy glass in his hand, pride crossing his face at Killian's question. "The promotion to Commodore," he thought aloud, "was not an overnight affair. It was the culmination of years spent commanding His Majesty's ships, capturing pirate crews, and bringing order to waters you lot seemed determined to make lawless."
He swirled the brandy in his glass, as though lost in the memory for a moment. "One contributing victory was the capture of the rum runners on what you pirates have deemed Rum Runner Island. They were a particularly evasive group—masters of slipping past blockades and hiding their operations in the labyrinth of caves along the island's shores. But we anticipated their movements, and with the help of local informants, laid a trap. A few well-placed fires in their cavern stores forced them out, right into our waiting arms. Their surrender secured one of the Caribbean's most notorious smuggling rings."
James allowed a faint smile to tug at the corner of his lips, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and reflection. "The Crown was pleased, of course. Less smuggled rum meant more revenue in taxes for their coffers. But to me, it was about ensuring fewer weapons and contraband flowed into the hands of those who would destabilize the colonies."
He set the glass down, folding his arms across his chest as he continued. "My reputation grew further after a harrowing victory near the Windward Passage. We were outnumbered—three pirate vessels to our single frigate—but superior tactics and discipline won the day. It wasn’t without cost, though. Good men were lost in the fight, and yet their sacrifice solidified the Navy’s grip on those seas."
Another sip "That victory earned me both the respect of my peers and the ire of your kind. 'Scourge of Piracy,' they called me—because every captured flag, every destroyed vessel, meant fewer pirates preying on merchant ships and coastal towns."
A faint, wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "And then there was Port Royal. The crown took notice of my efforts when I was stationed there. Ensuring the colony’s safety and dealing with… persistent nuisances cemented my standing. Commodore was a natural step forward for me, if I aimed to follow in…. his… footsteps.”
One last sip, and he .. pushes the glass toward Killian. " I ah, don't suppose It would be too bold of me to ask for a refill? "
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Rice. From my plot that's literally just a game of chess. (he's a rook)
#my characters#CHESS BABIES#they actually had a tag here and i adore it bc it was in caps lock for a while#no idea why it was in caps but whatever it was thems the rules#rice has a younger sister named turnip and shes a pawn and then his coworker rook is a guy named cakes#and cakes has a huuuuuuge crush on him and doesnt think to hide it so rice just kinda puts up with it and then somehow#they meet with one of the white knights and are like well he seems mostly harmless#and since they dont attack or try to kill him he decides hes actually in love with rice as well so cakes is like oh no#im going to lose my years long crush to some foreign guy#but the white knight is just vibing cause out of the entire white army he has the least stake in it bc he was born in the land of red#so he doesnt really care but since one of his parents was a white native he got recruited kinda#look it sounds so bad to have colored nations and them being white black and red#but its chess i swear and my dad had a REALLY FUCKING NICE wooden chess set when i was a kid#and it was AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL and each piece had red felt on the bottom to about scuffing the pretty wood board#anyway thats where the neutral land idea came from - all of his pieces had SOME red on them#and now i gotta go to work for more video orientation#guys theres been so many videos in the past two days#i have no energy for art#i have so many things i wanna draw but i havent managed to actually do anything yet#i need a fuckin schedule.....
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#us election venting beware:#i am actually a bit annoyed at all the people that told me i was just being pessimistic and it's not healthy to think the worst of people#when yet again we have proven the worst of people wins#and even if it doesn't win (it will) it is still so significantly mobilized and out there#like i know it's not helpful. but i TOLD YOU. everyone thought it wouldn't happen and it DID.#just like nobody thought it would happen THEN and i was apparently the only one around me who saw it coming.#now can we PLEASE take this problem SERIOUSLY and get off our fucking asses and admit it's fucked out there??#the core of our system is bad. it is rotting and the proof is in this joke of an election#so can every white liberal get off my ass for 'bringing down the vibe' or whatever?#you people have been LAZY for a long time. you have been comfortable and unmotivated and been doing NOTHING.#quit focusing on doing your best by voting and get the fuck out there and disrupt. radicalize!#'common sense' is not enough and it never was#i hate to say it but believing the best in the masses in this deeply racist country will disappoint you every time#and i can't believe so many people fell for it again!!!!#i know it's unfair but#i'm finding it really difficult to sympathize with people in my community who are sad and disappointed#when i watched you do NOTHING for YEARS#(not for the people that are actively in danger. my heart breaks for you. i will not stop fighting for you. you didn't deserve this.)#i have never believed that people are fundamentally good and i'm sorry if that's mean but it's just not true#people are fundamentally neutral and you have to WORK to push them towards 'good'#and for too long the pushing has been going in the other direction. but 'pushing' at all is uncouth to you people i guess#get over your decorum. get over your morals that mean nothing. no one else is playing by your rules. DO something. CARE MORE.#sorry. i'm angry. i am filled with rage. and it is mostly directed towards the white intellectual elite.#to anyone who is blindingly furious i see you and i am with you lmao.#to anyone that wants to say 'i told you so' you are so valid.#we keep going.#futhermore: 'it's only four years. we'll recover.' BITCH#ONLY four years? that's four years of DAMAGE that will really hurt people in the meantime#and set up a whole host of problems for the future! the courts my god.#four years of bullshit policy and shit we will have to spend years untangling just to get back to even thinking about making any progress
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#i’m putting this down here because i don’t actually really want to talk about it or answer asks about it but i’m like a little annoyed lmao#first of all obviously people should have boundaries and not be annoying/invasive/etc. duh.#i have been around the rpf block many a time and rule 1 is don’t be a weirdo. don't let it out of fandom spaces :)#but yeah idk. oliver stark to me feels like someone who is actually very familiar with the mechanics of fandom warfare#and therefore does not know how to log off when it starts to get personal#like to be clear i definitely do not think he engages directly with This fandom other than to lurk and spy on people for fun/haterism#but in MY opinion he has the energy of a person who spends a nonzero amount of time engaged in petty anonymous beef#over a character or a ship or a sport or a new brand of tofu. idk i don’t really care what he’s into#but it does sort of seem like he forgets that when he’s doing it on his real socials with his real face and real name attached#people are going to know that it’s him and respond accordingly and he should just like. block them and move on.#and maybe even go back to his burner and vague about it or something if he truly cannot just walk away.#which he does seem to be sort of getting slightly better at but it's still just like. yeah man! i don't know what to tell you.#people are weird sometimes. we all get weird anons and dm’s and people cyberbullying us. it sucks and it shouldn't happen but it does.#and you do literally just have to find ways to make it easier to ignore them. i know that you know this#because you are a human who grew up on the same exact internet as the rest of us.#i say; as i feel compelled to post about a tiny situation from like 12 hours ago that has literally nothing to do with me#anyway!!!!!!!#i went into the settings to turn off reblogs and thought how funny would it be if i blazed this post lmao
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When it comes to hygiene tasks and self care with disability and chronic illness, its pretty much a constant case of: don't let perfect be the enemy of the good.
Basically: it's better to do something, than to do nothing at all.
TLDR: Just because you can't do something "properly" doesn't mean you shouldn't do it at all. Do it half-way. Do it shitty. Do it barely. Do it on a technicality. But do what you can. Just try, because doing something will help you.
If you don't have the energy to scrub your body with a sponge, just rub soap over your skin with your hands.
If you don't have the energy to wash your whole body with soap, just hit the places where sweat accumulates, or where you're smelliest.
If you don't have the energy to wash with soap AT ALL, just sitting in water is better than nothing. It will wash away dirt and oils.
If you can't bathe or shower at all, a warm wash cloth is your new best friend. If that's too much, then try bath wipes. They're a bit bigger than regular wet wipes, and a bit more heavy duty. They're designed to help keep bed ridden patients clean in hospitals.
If you don't have the energy to dry yourself after a bath or a shower, just put on a bathrobe and get into bed. If you don't have the energy to get dressed afterwards, just don't. It can wait until you can.
If you don't have energy to brush your teeth for two minutes, honestly, just a cursory scrub is better than not doing anything.
If you can't brush your teeth twice a day, brush in the evenings. It will help take away the build up of food from the day.
If you don't have the energy to brush AT ALL, honestly, just take a cloth and wipe the plaque off your teeth. Rinse with mouth wash after if you'd like. Something is always better than nothing.
If you can't floss twice a day. Try once. If that's too much, try a few times a week. If that's too much, try setting aside a day once a week as a goal. If you can't keep a schedule, do it when you're able to. Hell, I keep some floss next to my bed so that if I forget and don't have the energy to go get it, I can just reach over.
If you can't iron your clothes, don't bother. Wrinkles are fine. Wear jumpers over wrinkly t-shirts. No one will know, and honestly, most people won't even care. If it's really wrinkly and it's A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Ironed, here's my life hack. Step 1: take a spray bottle, and spritz the item of clothing (while you're wearing it is easiest) until it's lightly damp. Step 2: use a hair-dryer on the clothes until they're dry. It gets rid of creases like nobody's business, it's easier than lugging out the iron and ironing board, and you get to have nice toasty warm clothes afterwards.
If you can't fold your clothes, try just hanging them up. It's less commitment. It's quicker to do. Granted, you need to have the space in order to do this, but it is also good at helping you downsize, and lets you visualise exactly what you have.
If you can't put your clothes away, invest in a couple of laundry baskets, and then just keep your clean clothes in the baskets. You can then separate washed clothes into underwear, pants, and shirts baskets. You can just leave them like that. I'm giving you permission to never fold your laundry again if you can't. Just leave it unfolded. Who's going to care? Something is better than nothing. If you can, try to put those baskets into your closet so that you can keep the clutter out of sight, and give yourself a more restful environment.
If you can't separate your clothing out into different categories and wash them "properly" (whites, warm tones, cool tones, darks, delicates / switching between hot & cold washes / paying attention to laundry instructions on the label) then just don't worry about it. If you cold wash your clothes, colours won't bleed. Maybe gradually over the course of dozens of washes there'll be some changes in hue, but it's really not as high stakes as the One Red Sock In The Whites Turns Them Pink trope makes it out to be.
I've pretty much come to the point in my life where if a piece of clothing can't survive the washer and dryer, then it's just not meant to be. I colour separate my clothes, and if I have the energy/remember I'll take my bras and jumpers out of the washing machine to drip dry. But otherwise, I leave it to the universe.
If you can't separate out your recycling, then don't. If you have a large amount of rubbish you need to get rid of but the idea of separating it out properly is stopping you from doing so, then just don't worry about it. I know it's not ideal, but if you have garbage in your room/house and you need to get rid of it, please just get rid of it. Don't let the problem get bigger and harder to deal with. Don't let "doing something properly" get in the way of keeping your living spaces clean. Please. Give yourself understanding.
If you can't wash your dishes, get paper plates. Obviously, it's not ideal, but it is better that you eat food than skipping meals. It is better that you have a clean kitchen, rather than having dishes piling up and making it harder to look after yourself.
If you can't prepare meals for yourself keep making the tasks easier and easier. If you can't do recipes, then simplify. Use pasta sauce from the jar instead of making it. Eat canned soup. Buy food you can just stick in the oven. If you eat fish fingers and microwave veggies every night, it's better than not eating anything at all. It's better than having to fork out money on take-out. If you need ready-made meals, then get them. If you're literally just eating a raw cauliflower for dinner; 1) I see you, 2) me too, sis, 3) something is better than nothing.
These are the basic things you need to do every day to function as a person. They are your activities of daily living. Brushing your teeth. Bathing or showering. Using the bathroom. Getting dressed. Eating. Drinking. Sleeping. Keeping your environment clean. You don't need to do these things perfectly, but they need to happen in order for you to have a decent quality of life.
And it breaks my heart, because I know that so many disabled people can't do these things every day. I'm not saying this to guilt or judge, I'm saying that these are basic needs; you deserve these things. These things bring dignity. If a disabled person is unable to do these things, it diminishes their quality of life. It robs them of dignity.
If you need help to do these things, Its okay to ask for help. It's okay to need help. But if you can't get that help and you have to do these things by yourself -- or you just plain want to be independent and do it without help-- then don't hold yourself to standards you can't meet.
Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. Doing something is always better than doing nothing. Even if it's not perfect. Even if it's not done well. Do what you can.
#lord knows that im still trying to pull myself out of the muck and into independence and dignity#i had to set a rule for myself that i need to wear clean clothes every day. and that i need to wear pyjamas to bed#that one's been hard. sometimes I dont have the energy to do it and i just stay in the same clothes for two days at a time#or i go to sleep in what i was wearing. but when i do follow that rule my quality of life is drastically better#not feeling dirty or gross goes a long way to making you feel more like a person#i also made a rule that im not allowing myself to look frumpy outside anymore. that means clothes that look nice#no more trackies and pj pants and all that stuff. i basically lived in perpetual pyjamas for four years and im over it#i still dress comfortably but the important thing is that i dress. i look put together. i wear things that make me happy#(and i didnt need to buy anything to do so. i just needed to start taking better care of myself)#and i stopped letting perfect be the enemy of the good. i started doing things shitty rather than not doing it at all#and the more i keep pushing with my ADLs the better i feel#what helps is now i dont have to contend with stairs and that has made a dramatic change to what im able to accomplish#ive also finally built up enough strength in my body that im able to go to the shops by myself. so i can buy things to make easy meals#and mum doesnt mind if i just put some things in the oven or air fryer for us for dinner.#i still cant really cook. i felt bad about that for the longest time. i didnt even try bc i knew what id make would be disappointing#or it wouldnt be up to the standards of what everyone else was making. i was so sick of feeling like a let down all the time.#now i just make what i can and my mum doesnt complain bc shes in the same boat.#and yeah. having help would be nice. it would mean id be able to do more than what i can do by myself.#and its great to see how far ive come. but im not a burden. and when i have the accommodations i need i can do a lot more#i do something rather than nothing and my life has dramatically changed since then. ive just gotten better and better.#chronic illness#disability#chronic pain#spoonie#one things for certain and thats that im never going to let myself rely on anyone else ever again.#i never want to be on the other side of that ever again. I don't want to be anyone's burden. i dont want that hanging over me#i do things by myself or i dont do them at all. and god fucking willing i'll never go back to needing as much help as i used to#i really didnt realise just how much of an obstacle living with stairs was in my life. it was the biggest barrier against everything#stairs stopped me from being independent. if i couldnt traverse them i just didnt go anywhere. my world shrank so much#and not having the proper wheelchair shrinks my world even more. im stronger than i used to be but im still severely limited in where i go
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i miss those heady days when i was writing the anglo-saxon au and looking shit up and then not using the information in the fic but hey look i'd Researched, and the thrill of having to explain to the imaginary reader that 'this thing is SCANDALOUS in the historical context that i haven't really provided for you', and all that sort of stuff, so i would quite like to write another Historical MCU AU but i don't know what it'd be and also i kind of fear people getting somehow annoyed by it.
#fic related#i can't do regency (not keen on the frocks) so even though it's a Popular Romance Genre that one's ruled out :(#i feel like i could manage things set between the anglo-saxon era (wimples!) and the french revolution (panniers!)#i own several books about tudor-era clothing so if you have any suggestions that'd utilise those resources let me know#(you may be picking up on a bit of a clothing focus here)#aside: if anyone thinks i just forgot to give AU!Sylvie knickers in the adultery AU - NO I DID NOT I WAS BEING ACCURATE!!!#(that's been nagging at me so i felt the need to capslock)#another thing putting me off is that i know i'm pretty hypocritical about AUs of this sort :S#but that's kind of the thing - if i'm losing the canon context that drew me in i'll need a new one that i already care about somehow#but (x2) i'm not stopping other people writing the oddly specific au scenarios they're into am i? so how's it bad if i do it myself?
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Oh. Sad
#the rhetoric and blame shifting is already bothering me btw#like ppl saying this has nothing to do with her policies like okay#the assumption everyone has that Green Party would automatically be democratic votes if they weren’t green is unreal#I have 0 opinion accelerationists tbh bc idek what the hell the intricacies of that are#the demographics#hate to say it but latinoes really did surprise me like wow guys. crazy work#the fl 60% amendment rule is insaaane#and tbh back to the Green Party thing the idea that they’re guaranteed democrats if under other circumstances is crazy#not just bc those numbers so far wouldn’t have gotten her any state#but bc the logic doesn’t hold up bc by that logic u should still be pissed at catering to right wing policies and ideals#her stance on immigration militarism fracking etc. bc she’s catering to ppl who would STILL be right wing#like the ppl who agree with her on these stances would rather see it on a white man#hate to say it but Girlboss feminism doesn’t work when you’re black#and everyone’s tip toeing around it but yes. as a black women you DO have to go harder and set more stances that align with ur voter base#bc for everyone who’ll show up for you being u in a country like this there’s twice the ppl who won’t just bc ur u#and ppl keep tryna say this isn’t about race like it kind of was. in the sense that everyone forgot that when ur black u do have to work#harder for half the credit - which is unfortunate and frustrating that bw don’t get to be vile and get rewarded but that’s what u account#for when running. like u can’t appeal to right wingers and their ideals bc their ideals and biases mean it was never gonna be you#uhm anyways this is like. are we choosing overt or covert racism for the next 4 years and apparently overt#and idk maybe I’m naive I thought this was gonna be an eye opener#that ppl would go back review the campaign see what went wrong have real convos on what we care about as a collective#but so far ppl are saying ppl who thought politicians should earn their vote need to be on the front lines and saying leftist ideals that#fell apart the second they tokenized one of us as the possible face of the imperial core#ig It’s like. are we bracing ourselves to set back until the next panic or are we finally gonna be motivated to haul ass#yknow hopefully in the end some of y’all see what we’ve been going through the entire time#also now that we can’t say at least they’re not trump anymore are we gonna break down Harris and bidens own transphobia and Zionism#or are they useless to discuss now after y’all propped them up as ur saviors for the last few months
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I’m always so fascinated by people’s bad roommate stories. I’m not sure I’ll ever live with someone I haven’t vetted extensively beforehand ever again
#every living situation where i’ve been assigned roommates randomly; i always seem to get one person who is an absolute angel#and 1-2 people who are honestly fucked up#i lived in halls 1 year of undergrad and everyone was kind of equally insane. honestly no one stood out as particularly bad#because everyone was just constantly screaming. i dealt with it by going home most weekends and getting noise cancelling headphones#3rd year of undergrad i lived in a suite which.. honestly was basically an apartment. had a living room/kitchenette; a toilet; a shower room#and 4 bedrooms#one of my roommates i’m still friends with to this day but honestly they were and are kind of a ridiculous person#like they were actively dealing drugs most of the year and their boyfriend was around most of the time and they would bone LOUDLY#and that’s the good roommate. so you can imagine the other two#one of the others.. honestly wasn’t a bad roommate; she was helpful and clean and civil#she was loud as hell though. she used to have attacks of insomnia and decide to rearrange her furniture at 3 in the morning#and we shared a wall. she also had an illegal pet rabbit.#our personalities just didn’t mesh well; like it became clear pretty fast that we were going to spend as little time together as possible#third roommate was loud; rude; annoying and gross. she’d be calling people at 7am just to yell down the phone to them about her problems#i was like who is picking up the phone to this bitch. she also picked up on my homosexual vibes in that way that homophobic straight girls#always seem to have; and was convinced i had a crush on her. and she bought a betta fish (allowed according to dorm rules) and then it died#because she didn’t want to take care of it properly. and she refused to do anything for herself#like she was always breaking shit and leaving it because she didn’t want to email or call maintenance. so then i’d have to do it#because it was always something we specifically shared. like a set of shelves she put a fucking 5lb shampoo bottle on. twice.#in grad school it was almost the same thing. one angel roommate who was kind of messy but otherwise fantastic#she rolled the best joints i have ever seen. and i still miss her cat cali#it was the men that were the problem. one was an international student who left after a month and bothered nobody#like to the point i didn’t notice when he moved out because he was so innocuous#the other two though….. so one of them started hooking up with my favourite roommate and immediately became SUPER annoying#the other one stole shit; left lights on all the time; left fridge and cupboard and freezer doors open; tried to guilt trip me#into giving him my weed; played mariah carey at 2am; never bought a single cleaning product or household item for the collective#unless you told him to…… he was even using my toothpaste at one point. like. sir.#oh and he was always dirtying other people’s dishes and cookware and leaving them in the sink for days. and leaving big chunks of food#in the sink. it was fucking gross#personal
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rambly rant in the aftermath of this whole situation. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I didn’t have anything new or smart to say
but now I really wanna implore my followers to think critically in light of tumblr “drama”. because it’s dangerous. inflammatory posts are so easy.
imagine being called some of the worst words for one second, could you as easily defend yourself? even if you knew you had done nothing, how easy does it seem to convince an angry mob that they’ve got it wrong? definitely not as easy as making the fucking post at least.
I don’t want to talk whatever allegations. its not about the post of the week. its about the culture around drama, and free-for-all that surrounds it.
the lack of critical thought and understanding that smart, grown humans are able to give these situations is sad. past blind gut reaction anger and disbelief, do yall do anything with those thoughts afterward? parroting some talking head without thought isn’t insight. the people who make these posts on anon and think that gives them free reign to do the most despicable shit,
if you wish real harm, if you doxx, if you threaten someone’s life or innocent people who aren’t even involved - you’re straight up a bad person. the person you’re calling out may be a bad person too, but there’s no way you’re the “good guy” there.
can you actually think about what you believe in regards to the thing?
some of you seem to think everyone acts in service of you and your beliefs, instead of their own reasons and beliefs.
I know angry people are gonna start shit bc you have the critical reading skills of a goldfish so again, this isn’t a judgement about the situations that have cropped up in dc spheres last few days. I can’t say anything that hasn’t been said before. It’s about how y’all react to it. Drama isn’t an excuse to become a horrible person for a few days. And if you take any chance to publicly act like a shitty person, maybe you just are a shitty person.
It shows that most of you have no fucking clue of what you’re talking about. Publicly airing your problem w someone isn’t public service.
we all understand that a subjective bad interaction isn’t proof. it doesn’t criminalise someone to be shit person to talk to, but that’s 90% of the rbs.
If you have a gripe with someone, you talk about it in private, or to friends, or block them. And if you’re gonna call someone out, make sure you can line up the facts. Not assumptions.
The vagueness is so distasteful. If you don’t have enough fact to label them with that word publicly, maybe mind your business and dislike the person in quiet. no one said you’re not allowed to dislike someone.
have some fucking class. unless you’ve made sure that what you’re saying in the Whole truth, it probably isn’t. it’s your belief, and your belief isn’t any more important or right than anyone else’s. so many of you are seriously, seriously embarrassing. good job doing absolutely nothing for the betterment of anyone.
#‘I understand why dc is used’ but apparently only the dc you personally wanna consume#??#people who’ve followed me probably knew how I felt about this thing already so this shouldn’t be much of a surprise#i literally have my own gripes with a lot of the topic discussed#firsthand as a victim#yet every victim ive talked to seems to agree that even our personal gripes don’t set the rule for what someone can use to cope#if you send anonymous hate I really really genuinely don’t support you as a person#I hope you go away#bc some of the reactions to drama in the last year or so has been#foul#they’re not even cosplaying care anymore it’s just straight up any excuse to act crazy#ring ring#tw.discourse#I guess but not really bc I genuinely have nothing to say about the stupid slew of posts that have been going around
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