#not my experience personally but i wonder if we're coming at it from slightly different angles of what 'liking tummies' entails

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Chapter 103: Peace and Family

How nice it was to see the Forgers go on an outing again!

A few things to notice...

I'll start with Twiyor hehehe:

This is easily my favorite panel in the chapter. They're getting closer and closer!! Loid sits first, Yor follows. She's not shy about siting next to him. Good for you, Yor! 👏

See how comfortable they are with each other? She has a soft smile and he's not pretending anything; he's just there, existing. By the way, observe their body language: Both of Yor's knees are pointing at her husband, she's also leaning slightly towards him. Twilight, on the other hand, sits at a more neutral position, still it's an open position. Notice how one of his knees is pointing at her too. And their hands are mirroring each other.

It's worth mentioning that Yor is such a good influence on Twilight. This man suffers from anxiety and it's hard for him to turn his brain off and just relax. Yor reminds him of this. She is his peace 😌

And look at Twilight being honest with his wife and admitting something very true about himself (that it's hard for him to stay still). I believe that every time Twilight is honest with Yor, they get closer. In this chapter there wasn't even a fake twiyor moment for this to happen. We're making progress!

Also, did you notice Yor teased Loid?

It is the sacred duty of a wife to tease her husband and call him old every once in a while 🤣 I'm glad Yor is finally fulfilling this fun wifely obligation 😆

All joking aside, it's pretty obvious Yor feels much more comfortable with Loid now. When they are with other people, she still gets nervous, probably because she thinks she could mess up and blow their cover. However, when they are alone, she seems much more relaxed and able to make comments like this that show that she trusts Loid enough to joke with him, to tell him in between lines that she notices things about him (just as he notices everything about her) and that she worries about him too.

Endo is a master of "show, don't tell" and he's been showing us how Twilight and Yor are getting closer little by little. It's in every detail: their body language, the way they talk to each other, the words they use, how they see each other.

Another example in this chapter? Twilight is incapable of saying "no" to his wife hehehe.

Yup, he still has that shoujo filter attached to his eyes when it comes to Yor.

Now that we have overanalyzed Twiyor, it's time for some crazy theories.

This could be important!

Don't you find it funny that each gave a different answer according to their experience?

Yor feels lonely, because she doesn't feel like she's normal enough to belong to society and it's hard for her to make friends.

Twilight got separated from his his herd. His family and friends died and he had to go to a different country, where he is scared and feels in constant danger just like Belle.

AND ANYA?! I'm wondering if this is a clue. I'm wondering if Anya is a missing person, meaning someone is looking for her, whether it's Project Apple or her biological family.

Talking about Project Apple, we seem to get crumbs every once in a while. I believe it's still too early to get an arc that will actually involve Anya and Project Apple together, but we'll know more as the story moves forward. It's a good sign that Project Apple is in Twilight's mind; he has good instincts for this. We may see him or Yor get involved with it in one of their missions before we learn Anya's past. OR either of her parents may discover what Project Apple is really about without knowing one of the test subjects is their own daughter.

Something that Anya has said several times is that her parents are dangerous people. It's easy to forget about this, but it's true. Twilight and Yor are very dangerous, but not for Anya. The day they find out someone hurt their little girl, it'll be a very bad day for all the people who participated in Project Apple.

[imaginespazzi]

Golden Hour is so so good! I love the way you’re taking the story, I’m obsessed with the way they just need each other like you write it so perfectly. And honestly it’s how they seem in real life, just so entwined.

I don’t want to ask but if you have the time and it won’t delay golden hour updates... Can you write a chaotic family Drabble of the girls teasing Azzi and Paige for essentially soft launching the last few weeks. You just write them so perfectly! Hope you’re planning to be a writer one day!

Thank you lovie <3

Do I have time? In theory no but I found about 40 minutes to cook this up (this is my way of justifying the lack of editing) and it's probably more sappy than chaotic but I hope you enjoy it anyways my love. Let me know if it lived up to what you wanted :)

Paige lets out a soft sigh as she turns the ignition off, parking her car in the team apartments parking lot. It's almost one in the morning and the tired is practically vibrating from her body but she'd been determined to get them back to school tonight in time for classes tomorrow morning. She can't help the soft smile that flitters across her face as she looks over at the passenger seat. Azzi's head is leaned against the window, mouth slightly open as she hugs Paige's sweater closer to her body like a blanket. The younger girl had managed to keep her eyes awake for about an hour, tiredly responding to her girlfriend's chatter with one-word inputs until Paige had looked over after asking a question and found Azzi completely knockd out

She had heavily debated waking her up but ultimately decided against it, knowing that it was well past the shooting guard's bedtime and as cute as she found Azzi's cranky grumbling when she was woken up, she thinks the girl probably deserved her sleep after the weekend they'd had.

The weekend.

Truthfully Paige is a little sad for the weekend to come to an end. She's going to miss the privacy of their hotel suite and she's really going to miss seeing her girlfriend all dressed up every day (even if she's not going to miss the way other people had, had the audacity to ogle at what's hers). God it had been perfect; everything Paige had wanted to be. The experience itself had been wonderful but the best part of it was that she'd gotten to live it out with her girlfriend, her person, her Azzi. Whether it was sitting next to her at the fashion shows or sitting across from her at the Liberty game, they'd been together and that's all that had mattered.

Paige knows that there's people who will look at their weekend and still use the just friends moniker; knows that until she and Azzi publicly label themselves, there'll always be people who'll be willfully ignorant of what they are. But still, this weekend -this summer really- had felt different. And maybe it's because they're a little different now but something about it had felt cathartically freeing. It makes her hopeful for what's come in the future, when they can shed this barrier of being teammates and just be who they really are to each other. She can't wait.

"Baby," Paige whispers, slightly shaking Azzi, "we're here."

The other girl let's out a groan, slinking further into herself without opening her eyes, "shhh Paige, I'm tryna sleep."

Laughing to herself, Paige lets herself out of the car before walking around to open the door to the passenger side, leaning down towards Azzi, "c'mon big head, you gotta get up so we can go to bed."

"I'm already in bed," Azzi says petulantly, eyes still closed.

"Azzi..."

"Paige.'

The blonde lets out a fond sigh, "you leave me no other choice Fudd."

"Wha-" Azzi squeals when Paige lifts her out of the car, using her waist to push the door in behind them, "oh my god Paige let me down. You're gonna drop me."

Adjusting the weight in her arms slightly, Paige smirks as she starts walking towards the apartment door, "I am way too strong to drop you."

"Oh my god the edits have gone to you head," Azzi groans dramatically, tightening her arms around the blonde's neck, "you're going to drop me and I'm going to die. I'm too young to die Paige."

"You have no faith in me," Paige guffaws, even if she's slightly struggling to get up the three steps that lead up to the door.

"Paige let me down," Azzi whines again.

"You sure about that princess?" Paige asks, a slightly devious plan forming in her mind as she finally makes into the soft fluffy mat right outside the door.

"Yes."

"Okay," Paige says with a shrug as she lets Azzi go, the younger girl falling on the rug with a slight thud.

"OW WHAT THE FUCK?"

"You asked me to let you go."

"Not like that," Azzi growls, rubbing her hips slightly as she gets up and shoves at Paige, "enjoy sleeping by yourself."

Paige's eyes widen as she watches Azzi open the apartment door and saunter towards the elevator.

"Oh hey wait, wait, wait, I'm sorry," Paige has to run to catch up to the younger girl, engulfing her from behind as she presses slobbery open mouthed kisses over every inch of her that she can touch, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't make me sleep alone."

"Ew stop," Azzi crinkles her nose, half-heartedly pushing Paige away.

"I'm sorry. Pleeeeeease," Paige begs as the two of them wait for the elevator, "besides I'm sure you can't fall asleep without me either."

"Oh you're sure are you?" Azzi teases, yawning slightly as the doors ding and open and the two of them step inside.

"I know you can't," Paige grins, nuzzling her face in the younger girl's neck as she presses the button for Paige's floor, making no attempt to press the one for hers as well, "see?"

"Shut up," Azzi blushes slightly, "it's only because I don't wanna deal with Ice in the morning."

"Sure it is," Paige sing-songs before her face morphs into something more serious and she presses her forehead against her girlfriends, "I had a really good time this weekend."

Azzi's eyes soften, "it was pretty great huh?"

"The greatest," Paige confirms, brushing their lips together, "I love you."

"I love you too."

***

Much to Azzi's chagrin -and to Paige's slight amusement though she won't dare say it- she does have to deal with Ice the next morning. And worse than that, she has to deal with KK.

"GOOD MOOOOOORNING LOVEBIRDS," a loud voice echoes way to early in the morning.

Azzi cranks one eye open about cuss somebody out when KK jumps onto their bed, tiny body creating such an impact that it has both her and Paige practically jolting up.

"Morning sunshines," KK grins happily as Ice snickers from where she's leaning against the wall, "y'all done with your world tour?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Paige asks groggily.

"What's wrong with us? US?" KK's voice is as loud as always, "y'all abandon your kids-"

"Again," Azzi says exasperatedly, "y'all aren't actually our ki-"

"EXCUSE ME?" KK recoils before turning dramatically to Ice, "did you hear that Icey? She said we're not her kids."

"That's so mean of you Azzi," Ice pouts, "you practically abandons us for a decade-"

"It was one week-"

"A DECADE! And now-" Ice fake whimpers, "and now you're saying we're not even your kids? What kind of parents even are you?"

"The kind who aren't parents?" Paige says coyly only tfor KK to throw a pillow at her face, "seriously?"

"I cannot believe this," the Wisconsinite shakes her head, "first you abandon us," she glares at the two of them in a warning to not interrupt her, "and now, when we come in here to finally spend some time with y'all, do you welcome your children with open arms? OH NO. No you don't. Instead you make us feel like you don't even love us. Y'all are SICK."

"So SICK," Ice choruses and Azzi narrows her eyes at them.

"Y'all came in here to spend time us?" she asks slowly, "really?"

"Are you accusing us of having other intentions?"

"Well-"

"Oh my god," KK jumps of the bed, fixing them with an offended stare, "can't two children just want to see their parents?"

"Not when it's the two of you."

"I CANNOT BELIEVE-"

"KK," Jana's voice interrupts from outside the door, "is it time for us to come in yet?"

Paige looks between the door and KK and Ice's caught-out face as Azzi buries her head into her hands, "what are y'all up to?"

"Fucking El-Alfy ruining the plan," KK grumbles under her breath as she steps outside and the noise of bickering echoes through Paige's door.

"When we have actual children, we're never letting these idiots babysit," Azzi says softly as she leans her head back against Paige's shoulder.

Something beautiful blooms in Paige's chest as she kisses a smile into Azzi's shoulder. It's the way Azzi says it, the way she talks about them having their own children, like it's an inevitability, like forever means each other.

"Whatever you say baby," she whispers.

"Can you guys stop being gross for one second," Ice chides from the corner, "a whole fucking weekend together and still being this sappy has got to be a crime or something."

"A crime of passion," Paige says airily, relishing the way it elicits a giggle from Azzi.

"What the fuck?" there's a look of disgust on Ice's face as she studies the two of them, "that wasn't even that funny Azzi."

"I thought it was," Azzi shrugs, smiling as she turns her head to press her lips to Paige's cheek.

"Oh my god y'all get the fuck in here," Ice calls out, "they're being sickeningly cute in here again and I feel like I'm suffocating."

Unable to help their curiosity at what shenanigans their teammates come children are up to, Paige and Azzi can't help but look towards the door. Their mouths fall open as KK and Jana wheel in one of the whiteboards from the lobby, Sarah diligently following in from behind them. On the whiteboard is a series of cutout photos of the two of them taken from the weekend. A large hand-drawn paper sign hangs right above the photos: THE PAZZI SOFT LAUNCH tm.

"Ta-da," KK and Jana flail their hands as they present the board to the two gaping girls on the bed, bowing dramatically, "we made you guys this. Isn't it amazing?"

"It was my idea," Sarah juts out her chest proudly.

"It was not. I was the one who said wouldn't it be cool if we could show them how disgustingly stupid in love they looked all weekend," Jana glares at the freshman.

"Right but it was my idea to make the poster board," Sarah defends.

"Girl boo. I'm the one who came up with the title so it was really my idea," KK chirps in.

"All three of you needa take several steps back," Ice warns, "because who was the one who actually made this whole thing?"

"Me," all 6 of them turn to the doorway to see Caroline standing there with an exasperated look on her face, "I did all the cutting and glue-"

"You were in on this?" Azzi asks, "what happened to being the sensible one?"

"I am sensible," Caroline defends herself sheepishly, "but you know I love a good arts and crafts project and you didn't see them Az. They were failing miserably-"

"WE WERE NOT!"

"YOU WERE GLUING THE PICTURES UPSIDE DOWN-"

"ONLY SARAH WAS DOING THAT."

"DON'T THROW ME UNDER THE BUS LIKE THAT."

"ALL OF Y'ALL SHUT UP," Paige bellows and Azzi immediately flinches away from her.

"Ow Paige," she whines, rubbing deftly at her hear, "that hurt my ears."

"Sorry baby," Paige coos, pulling the younger girl back in to her arms and apologetically kissing her cheek as suddenly forgets why she'd needed to yell in the first place.

"SEE," Ice cuts, "this is why we needed to make the board. Y'all are so atrociously down bad and if we have to see how sickening it is, so do you."

"I think it's kinda sweet these dumbasses have finally figured it out," Caroline says with a smile.

"Nobody asked for your opinion-" KK grumbles as Paige sulks.

"We are not dumbasses," she says indignantly,unable to help herself from smiling when Azzi kisses the pout off of her face.

"Oh my god," Sarah gags as she looks at the rest of their teammates, "do they ever stop being disgusting?"

She's met with a chorus of "no"s from the rest of the girls in the room who've had to put up with Paige and Azzi for longer than she has.

"Y'all have a lot of nerve coming into our room and then calling us out for what we do in it," Azzi scolds.

"This is NOT your room," Jana corrects.

Paige glares at her as she tightens her grip around Azzi, "don't listen to them baby. My room is your room."

"Fucking hell. Y'all are hopeless," the Egyptian groans, "I give up. Congratulations on the soft launch or whatever. We're all very happy for you."

Azzi splutters, a series of indiscernible noises waterfalling from her lips, "we did NOT soft launch."

"Really?" Ice cocks her forehead, "so this," she gestures to the whiteboard filled with incriminating pictures, "this just looks like a completely normal best-friends kinda weekend to you?"

"Yes," Azzi replies stubbornly.

"Seriously?" Jana points to a series of pictures taken of the two of them practically pressed into each other at two of the fashions shows; there's a noticeable difference in how much space there is between them and the people on their other sides in comparison to the lack of air between the two of them, "y'all sit this close to all of y'alls friends like this?"

"Of course-"

"Hey," Paige wails, "who else do you sit that close to?"

"Not the time," Azzi hisses to her girlfriend, "I'm trying to prove something."

"Prove what? That y'all look at everybody like this?" KK smirks as she points to a set of images of them basically cheesing at each other like lovesick fools.

"That doesn't count as a soft launch-"

"Baby it does look a little bit like one-"

"Shut up Paige," Azzi scowls, digging her elbow into her girlfriend's stomach, "it doesn't count because it's not like we meant to do it-"

"So what you're saying is you accidentally soft launched then?" Sarah raises an eyebrow.

"That's not- I mean-" Azzi struggles to form a coherent sentences as Paige laughs into her shoulder, "your a freshman. Shouldn't you be nicer to your upperclassmen or something?"

"AHA!" KK cheers as she high-fives Sarah "deflecting because you can't deny it. Good job freshie!"

"I AM NOT-"

"Baby," Paige says softly, barely concealing her smile captures Azzi's chin between her fingers to turn her face towards her, "let it go. They're right."

"They're not-" Azzi huffs.

"Yes they are-"

"Well they don't need to know," Azzi says petulantly as she glowers at the other occupants of the room.

Jana regards her with an amused expression, "you know we can hear you right?"

Paige sighs, annoyed at having to look away from her girlfriend as she rounds on the rest of her teammates, "alright y'all made your point. Now will you get the fuck out?"

"That is no way to talk to you children," KK says as she crosses her arms across her chest.

"Ooooh," Sarah grins, "wait does this mean I'm one of your children too?"

"For the nth time-" Azzi begins but Paige covers her mouth with her hands, not wanting to start another bickering session that would inevitable prolong her not getting alone time in bed with her girlfriend.

"We'll think about it," she tells the freshman, a little touched when it seems to make Sarah gleam with happiness, "now please," she gestures to the door.

"Kicking us out so y'all can be all mush-gushy in peach eugh," Ice scrunches her face with disgust, "at least tell us y'all got us gifts or something."

"Even if we did you're definitely not getting them now," Azzi snarls at them.

"So what you're telling me is that there's definitely gifts," Jana says excitedly, "ugh I knew y'all would come through."

"Here," Paige points to both of their suitcases parked against the wall, "how about y'all take those and go to the living room and take whatever y'all want-"

"Wait no-"

"Will you be quiet for one second," Paige pinches Azzi's arms before smiling at the younger girls in the room, "all yours guys!"

KK narrows her eyes at the blonde, "this feels like a bribe-"

"Who cares Kamorea. She's giving us expensive free shit, don't argue," Jana chides as she starts to pull KK out of the room, Sarah following excitedly behind them.

"That's kinda low of you," Ice says with a disappointed look towards both of them, "but hey," she shrugs as she begins to follows the others, "if it belongs to my parents, technically it belongs to me."

"Well played Bueckers," Caroline, the last person remaining, smile as she moves to wheel the whiteboard out with her.

"WAIT," both Paige and Azzi yell in sync before shyly looking at each other.

"You can um-" Paige licks her lips, "you can leave that. It's kinda cute."

"I lied," Caroline shakes her head but does as she's told, "you guys aren't sweet because this," she points between the two of them and the whiteboard as she begins to move backwards, "this is just sickening behavior."

"Y'all are just jealous of our love," Paige calls out, ignoring the chorus of protests that she gets in return, happy to finally have the room back to just her and Azzi.

"So," the younger girl says carefully, as she turns herself around to straddle Paige's hips.

"So," Paige whispers back, hands resting on Azzi's waist as the other girl brushes a strand of blond hair out of her face.

"I think we might have accidentally soft-launched a little bit," Azzi says shyly, nibbling at her bottom lip.

"Accidentally," Paige grins as she nuzzles their noses together.

And as the sunlight peeks in through the window and the cacophony of their teammates excitedly unpacking their presents drifts in from the living room, Paige holds Azzi closer to her chest, and she lets herself think of what it'll be like when they hard launch. On purpose, this time.

[xtra7s]

It's me again, how about Renee and r reading thirst tweets??? Or Renee flirting with r and she just loves making her flustered. Something like Renee always calling her "baby" I just can't get my mind out of these thoughts.

Also, love you and your works darling<3

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋: 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 ─── 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘱 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Renee and Y/N get to read thirst tweets!!!

Content: Renee Rapp x Fem!Reader, fluff, Renee bullying the hell out of Y/N(lovingly)

Word Count: 1.2k

a/n: please keep these comin baby. I am in writers block like crazy right now but this shit was fun to write. Hope you enjoy, (let me know if you want 'something special: Paris Trip' (;

masterlist | first part | second part

The studio lights glowed softly as Renee Rapp and Y/N settled into their seats, ready for another interview. This time, the format was a bit different. There was no host, and they were told that they would be reading and reacting to "thirst tweets" from their fans. Renee and Y/N exchanged amused glances, knowing this would be a fun and cheeky experience.

The camera starts rolling, and Renee perks up in her chair.

"Hey guys what's up, my name is Renee Rapp and this is my lovely costar Y/N YL/N, and we're here with BuzzFeed to read our thirst tweets."

Y/N smiles softly at Renee as she speaks, turning to the camera playfully when she's done. "I'm so excited about this you have no idea. Let's see what our fans have to say."

The first tweet appeared on the phone, and the playful banter began.

Y/N giggles at the tweet, reading it out in between breaths. "Is it just me, or does Y/N's smile have the power to cure any bad day? Asking for a friend.'"

Y/N grins and looks up at Renee, and then back to the camera. "Well, I'm flattered. If my smile has that kind of power, maybe I should start offering smile therapy."

"I can attest to the smile therapy. It works wonders." Renee speaks with a smile that matches Y/N's, leaning forward in her chair like she's telling a secret.

Renee shakes her head with a shit-eating grin on her face at the next tweet, "I wish Renee Rapp and Y/N YL/N were my birth parents, actually no, I wish I was in a throuple with them."

Renee tilts her head, looking at the camera intently. "I think you need to decide if you wanna be in a throuple with your parents, and that's something you should talk to your therapist about. And I don't know who 'Y/N YL/N' is." Renee speaks with a laugh, looking over at Y/N.

Y/N has a tint of pink covering her cheeks as she shoves Renee's shoulder playfully. "that's, I need a minute to process that one" She giggles, scrolling to the next tweet.

As the tweets became bolder, the chemistry between Renee and Y/N intensified. The playful flirting was accompanied by shared laughter, and the studio audience couldn't get enough.

Y/N widens her eyes at this one, a silent laugh coming out of both Renee and her. 

"Perfect threesome? Me, Y/N YL/N, and a tub of peanut butter. How you feelin' about that one baby?" Renee murmurs, looking over at Y/N softly.

Y/N raises an eyebrow, her face scrunching into a grimace. "that-" she shrugs awkwardly as her face gets darker in a shade of maroon, "makes me feel weird."

Renee smirks as she sees the effect she had on Y/N, grabbing the phone gently from Y/N's hand and reading the next tweet.

"Renee Rapp I am simply just a hole for you."

Renee sits there in silence for a second, pushing her tongue against her cheek while she laughs. "And I am simply just a fucking- I'm a person, I'm a human being. What do you want me to do to your holes? Be more specific."

As the interview shifted back to a more traditional format, An interviewer named Taylor came in and decided to focus on the professional aspects of Renee Rapp and Y/N's collaboration on "Unveiling Hearts." The studio lights dimmed slightly, creating an intimate ambiance as Taylor delved into questions about their characters, on-screen dynamics, and the impact of the show.

Taylor greets both Y/N and Renee, getting into her questions smoothly. "Alright, let's talk about 'Unveiling Hearts.' The chemistry between your characters is undeniable. How do you both manage to bring such authenticity to your roles?"

"Well, I think it helps that Y/N and I have a natural connection. It's not hard to portray a convincing love story when you're working with someone as talented as her." Renee speaks as she looks at Y/N, grinning at her.

Y/N blushed as she looked away shyly, "Aw, thanks, Renee. It's definitely a collaborative effort. We bounce off each other's energy, on and off the set."

Taylor nods and moves right into another question, "Fans are loving the romantic storyline this season. Any hints you can give us about what's in store for your characters?"

"Let's just say there might be a few more unexpected twists and turns in the romance department. You'll have to tune in to see." Renee leaned in, speaking with a playful glint in her eyes.

Y/N matched Renee's expression, placing her hands on her lap. "Renee loves to keep me on my toes, both in the script and in real life."

As the interview progressed, Renee couldn't resist injecting a flirtatious edge into her responses, causing Y/N to squirm in her seat. The studio audience picked up on the dynamic between the two, and Taylor couldn't help but smile at the palpable chemistry.

Taylor smirks at the banter between the costars, "What's it like working together? Any memorable moments behind the scenes?"

Renee looked at Y/N, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she narrowed them at her. "Oh, where do I begin? There are so many, I just can't choose. Probably that one time when we visited Paris, the Eiffel Tower was-

Y/N smacked Renee's arm quickly, but not hard enough to hurt her. "And that's enough out of her mouth." She spoke with a nervous grin, narrowing her eyes back at Renee.

The interviewer raised her eyebrows as the teasing continued, with Renee casually dropping endearments and playful comments throughout the interview.

"Working with Y/N is a dream. She's not just a talented co-star; she's my partner in crime, my confidante, my baby." Renee speaks with a flirty tone, gripping Y/N's knee and squeezing it softly before letting go.

At this point, Y/N's face was covered in a deep shade of maroon. "Okay, Renee, you're really going for it with the baby thing today."

Renee playfully flipped her hair and winked at Y/N, "Can't help it. It just feels right, baby."

The interview concluded with laughter and a lingering sense of warmth. The fans would undoubtedly dissect every word and gesture, adding a new layer to the mystery of the real-life connection between Renee Rapp and Y/N.

Renee wraps her arm around Y/N's shoulder as they finish reading the tweets, "Thanks for watching, hope you had fun, thank you for all these.. Very sweet.. Tweets, I will be thinking about them before I go to bed."

Y/N says to the camera, a false concern look on her face as she smiles at the camera, Renee and her waving as the screen fades to black.

[olderthannetfic]

I’d like to appeal to the advice of your followers with a question concerning the degree of realism of sex in smutty fanfic. Two questions really. I know fanfic is not reality- but if (almost) all authors describe certain things in a specific way, I start to wonder if I missed something. And since I write a bit myself, I’d like to get things right.

The first is about bruising. A tight grip on arms or hips is apparently enough to cause bruises. I have participated in enthusiastic and even rough sex and never, ever got bruised. So I decided to test it out with my husband and asked him to try and bruise my arm by gripping it. Even a very tight grip caused no bruises. I only got (mildly) bruised after asking him to apply full force, which took him some effort and was seriously painful. It really hurt and not in the sexy way. Now maybe I bruise less easy than most but encounters with table corners etcetera say otherwise. So am I missing something here, or did smut writers collectively decide that bruising is sexy and therefore bruises are easily caused by a tight grip?

The other thing is about soreness. In all or most fics, not only fanfic but also conventional straight romance novels, passionate sex means the receiving party will be sore enough to be limping the day after or even have trouble sitting down. In my personal experience, very rough, slam-in-as-hard-as-you-can fucking both vaginal and anal does not result in any observable soreness afterwards while walking or sitting. The insides may get chafed, yes, rubbed raw even, depending on the use of lube, and that will be supremely noticeable during consequent bathroom visits or the next fuck session if it follows soon after the first, but that’s it. The only soreness I ever had was muscle soreness in my thighs or other limbs if the position took some physical effort to maintain. But internal soreness, never. So again, did writers collectively decide soreness is sexy, or what’s happening?

--

I'm pretty sure they're both just Law of Horny.

Yes, probably some people do bruise more easily than you, but the way this is described in fic is as though those hands had finger paint on them. We're talking full on hand prints after a few minutes of slightly hard gripping. Nobody bruises like that unless they have a medical problem where they should be a lot more careful during sex. Haha.

TBH, the kinds of characters who end up with hip bruises are usually also the ones who have milky white/jade/etc. skin the narrative obsesses over. It's the same ones whose necks get marked up and obsessed over. It's one of those 'you're too pristine, so I'm going to come all over your face' kinks.

As for soreness... I think "sore" vs. "chafed" is just word choice. Authors may not mean muscle soreness. I've definitely managed to make the chafed feeling last for a while by using absurdly large dildos, and everybody in porn has a massive pornstar dick...

That said, while I've certainly had that sensation where something feels different the next day such that you notice it while walking around, not just in the bathroom, it's not your glutes. It's not usually deep inside either. It's more just the opening, where all the nerves are. The way people describe sitting gingerly is silly: Sure, you might be hyperaware while changing position because that area stretches a little, but it's described like the aftermath of flogging.

I think this is just the "Dick so big it rearranged your guts" style of smut writing where the body is ~forever changed~ by this particular sex even though people are made of a bunch of stretchy muscles that are going to go right back to what they were doing before. I mean, I guess you could forever fuck up the cartilage in your knee while doing something stupidly athletic, but that's not hot.

Do I believe somebody identifies with these porn tropes? Sure. Bodies vary. But there's definitely a canned porn version everybody uses, and I doubt it's because they're drawing from personal experience.

[alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice]

Weaving Constellations pt 8 - The Wizard's Dilemma

Part 7 / Part 9 / Part 1

This is an ongoing story of Gale and my warlock Tav building off canon. If you'd like to be added to the tag list to get notified of new parts you can go here.

A/N: We're in Gale's POV (or technically, still 3rd person limited but his thoughts are the focus) for this part for Reasons That Make Sense (it's what got me out of the block I was having). I did make a poll about how aware Gale is of his developing feelings and the final results did lean on the more aware side, but at first the results leaned more oblivious and that's what I ended up writing. I feel he has specific circumstances that hinder his connection to his own feelings - this is a willful denial sort of situation. Also I can't believe how much easier Astarion is to write when he's not the love interest, all I have to do is make him a little shit. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

@vespaer77 @lalectricedumonde @odd-dragon @aylin-the-barrel

As a promise to Lae'zel, everyone agrees to stop by the nearby creche before making their way into the underdark.

It goes… poorly. Yes, poorly is the apt descriptor there.

All that effort and all they get for their troubles is the ire of a lich queen and a relic that Gale can't even study. He supposes it is only fair, given what has happened to other artifacts under his touch, but to his mind Shadowheart is being particularly greedy with the Blood of Lathandar, especially considering the god of the dawn is rather the antithesis of her lady of darkness. Nevertheless, such a religious relic is best held in the hands of a cleric, he agrees. It will certainly aid in braving this shadow curse Halsin spoke of.

Gale is… concerned. On several fronts. This quest of theirs is proving to be more fraught with dangers by the day. Lae'zel's tent is pitched the farthest from camp, and were she even slightly more inclined to opening up to Gale, he would check on her. Defying one's goddess is something he is intimately familiar with, though he feels his past failures would only serve to make Lae'zel feel worse, so he allows her the space she needs to process.

With that, he turns his concern to Lyra. She went in alone to speak with their so-called guardian. Gale has already gathered that the guardian's appearance changes depending on whom they are speaking to, perhaps a side-effect of meeting in dreams as they had. After all, there is only one guardian, yet everyone described a different figure. Gale himself had mistaken the dream figure for an avatar of Mystra. Fool that he is, to think she would ever speak to him again. He wonders what Lyra saw.

Lyra sits by the fire, stroking Scratch’s head, seemingly lost in thought. He approaches carefully, sitting next to her. Scratch nudges his leg with his nose, asking for even more pets. Greedy little pup, two hands are not enough apparently. Gale rubs the dog's ear. “You have seemed particularly pensive this evening. Copper for your thoughts?"

Lyra chuckles dryly. “It'd be better spent using it as the material component for a detect thoughts spell. Perhaps you'll have better luck sorting through my thoughts than I am."

“An experience I am quite familiar with, and one I often found was alleviated by sharing the tangled web of my ideas aloud to another.”

"I…" she sighs, finding her words, hands pausing their job of scratching the snowy pup to search the air for the proper phrases. “I am coming to terms with the fact that Midnight may never come back. The first day, well, that was part of my punishment. The next, okay, he's being petty. The third, the fourth, the fifth, time works differently for fey, maybe he didn't realize…” She rubs at her eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this.”

Gale's brow furrows in confusion. "Whyever not?”

Lyra smirks and raises her brow at him, as if she's doubting the sincerity of his confusion. "Because I know you, and I know you feel guilty that I gave you that artifact, and if I tell you about all my heartbreak and stress and worry because of it, you're only going to blame yourself more. And you don't need to do that." 

She's right, the guilt is so ingrained in Gale now that it's just a constant background hum. Not solely for the artifact, of course, but for failing Mystra, for being such a burden upon these (mostly, Astarion is a toss up) good people, for hiding the truth of his condition for so long. It eats at him just as much as the orb does and he supposes it will be just as much a constant companion for the rest of his days. "I fail to see why I should not, for if I had only held out or-”

"If I had it to do over again, I wouldn't change a thing,” Lyra interrupts, resting her hand over Gale's. "I made my own choice, and now I'm facing the consequences.”

"It's hardly fair. If it were solely a business transaction perhaps I could understand, but…you were- are?- in love. To throw away that affection and relationship for one act of defiance?” Gale swallows, suddenly feeling as if he has said something transgressive. “Mystra I could understand.” He says, words spilling out as if to cover up his slip. "I defied her desire to protect me from dangerous magic, and out of a selfish and hubristic search to prove myself. But you? Your act was selflessness alone. You hardly deserve to be punished for it." There's an old familiar tugging in his chest and he shifts to put a little distance between them. His gaze falls on her face, the stray dark curls that frame her face, the way the golden light of the fire sets her violet eyes alight like the glow of faerie fire.

Lyra brushes back her hair a bit, her gaze fixed on the campfire rather than Gale, which he is grateful for. “I feel…guilty,” she says, finally. "Not, of course, for what I did for you. But more that… I don't miss him like I thought I would. Right now, I'm more concerned with whether or not I can adapt these sorcerer powers to our needs. Being a warlock, I know that. I can use that to survive…this is different. This is much more uncertain at a time when we need to cling to anything certain to have a chance at making it through this alive." She leans back, looking up at the sky. “This isn't the first time he's left me on my own, but before I was…” she chuckles, ending it with a heavy sigh, "a mess. I'd constantly be wondering what I had done wrong, how I could keep his love, what I would do without him. Now…” Lyra shrugs. "Maybe I just have more important things on my mind. Maybe the threat of death or ceremorphosis has made me more practical. But I can honestly say I'm hardly concerned with whether he still loves me or not. That I can survive. I'm just not certain whether I can survive what comes next. Am I terribly cold and callous for feeling this way, do you think? For caring more about the powers he gives me than our relationship?”

Gale shakes his head. "You're pragmatic, and you have every right to be, given the forces we are up against. It is only right that you should be more concerned with your continued existence than the outcome of a romantic entanglement.” He opens his mouth to continue, then hesitates, wondering if it is his place to say anything. "And… if you felt continually unappreciated, if that, indeed, is what you are suggesting and I have read that correctly… perhaps it is only natural that eventually, you would grow tired of striving to be enough for him.” And if he could not see what a fantastic woman he had in his arms, then more fool he.

Lyra reaches out and squeezes Gale's hand. "Thank you for listening.”

There's that tightness in his chest. He can feel the magic humming in her blood, in her bones, in her soul. He wants to get closer, absorb her essence through touch, he wants and it is eating at him how much he wants to devour her. 

Gale yanks his hand away, pulling it close to his chest as if she had burned him. "I- I must- lovely conversation but I should go.”

He dashes to his tent and shuts the flaps tight behind him. He tries to steady his breathing, excitement makes it worse, after all. "You can eat every magical item in the realms," he grits out, "you can drain the weave from every last precious artifact on toril, no matter how useful. But by the gods, you will not touch her.”

—

The Underdark is beautiful, that much is true. The bioluminescent mushrooms and the Myconid colony are wondrous in particular, and Gale is quite looking forward to investigating that tower Omeluum mentioned. Yet, for all its beauty, the Underdark presents him with a continuous sense of malaise. Gale can feel the ceiling of rock overhead at all times, an oppressive sort of presence cutting him off from the sky. From what he knows of Lyra, and her love of the stars, he suspects she would feel the same way.

It is difficult to avoid someone when you’re traveling with them in such a small group, but Gale makes do. He keeps his nose buried in a book, not to be disturbed. He keeps his focus on anything but her, and distractions abound on such a perilous journey.

There is but one problem: he promised Lyra another magic lesson. There is only so long he can make excuses and put it off. Truthfully he does not want to put it off. She has a natural inclination and a clear passion for the subject that he is delighted to share. Yet, every night she approaches his tent, he finds a reason that he cannot grant her that second lesson: he has to cook food for the camp, he’s still feeling the effects of that poison arrow that caught him, he exhausted his magic reserves for the day.

She will probably stop asking soon… is that what he wants?

He has to keep his distance. It is one thing if he is reduced to sneaking off with an artifact in the middle of the night. Everyone would be displeased with him, but provided he keeps to the least valuable of the items, he could be forgiven. With Lyra’s sorcery unlocked, however, magic flows through her veins, and should he hurt her, nevermind what the others would think, he would never forgive himself.

Gale rubs his temples, pausing the pacing he has only just realized he was doing. He’s being ridiculous, he can keep the orb from devouring the very artifacts he wears into battle, and should the hunger grow too much he can sacrifice those to keep the orb from feeding on Lyra’s magic. Why is this any different than the restraint he has exercised for a year? If he thinks of her channeling magic his usually disciplined mind runs off with thoughts of grabbing her arm, pulling her close, and devouring her. The way his face grows hot with something more than shame does not entirely escape his notice, but he pushes those thoughts aside. 

With the orb hungering for Lyra’s blood, Gale supposes he’s no better than Astarion, now.

That is a thought. Perhaps Astarion would have an idea or two about resisting that hunger.

Absolutely not. As far as Gale has fallen, he has not fallen so far as to go crawling to that arrogant bloodsucker for advice.

Gale’s thoughts are interrupted by Scratch barking. He goes to investigate only to find Lyra playing with the dog and the owlbear cub. They leap up into the air, trying to chase the dancing lights she has conjured. There is such joy on her face as she plays with them, and Gale is impressed at how quickly she has mastered so many spells in the short time he has known her. She catches him staring and smiles brightly at him, the multicolored lights she conjured illuminating her face.

Gale goes to Astarion’s tent.

“Well hello, wizard,” Astarion croons, tilting his head in a way Gale might mistake as flirtatious if he didn’t know any better. “What can I do for you, my friend?”

“I have… a question, or rather, several questions. Purely academic curiosity, of course, regarding your condition, if you’ll indulge me,” Gale answers, pushing past his hesitation.

“My condition of being hopelessly beautiful? It does help when one is eternally young, but I suppose I can offer you a couple of tips.”

“Astarion, I have come to you for assistance, and I would appreciate it if you could drop the sarcasm.”

“And I would appreciate it if you would be clearer. I assume by ‘condition’ then you do not mean our shared parasite problem. There’s no need for euphemisms, dear wizard, everyone in camp is well aware I drink blood.”

“Yes, quite right, that one, the exsanguination issue, I- um-” Gale searches for the proper words. “I read a book once that devoted a chapter to vampires. It described them as in a constant state of unsatiated thirst. If that is indeed the case, then it must be torment the likes of the fabled punishments enacted upon the poor souls in Dis, to be surrounded by a feast in which you cannot partake.”

“Get to the point, wizard.”

“How do you resist?” Gale finally asks, words a bit rushed. “How could you possibly keep from drinking any of us dry in our sleep?”

Astarion puts a hand over his chest in exaggerated offense. “Why I am shocked, Gale. All this time I have kept my pearly whites far from your neck and yet you still don’t trust me!”

“This question is not asked out of suspicion, Astarion, it is academic-”

“Purely academic curiosity, so you said, forgive me if I find that excuse a touch flimsy.” Astarion sighs in that melodramatic way of his. “If you must know, I didn’t… completely resist. You’ll recall the morning the news of my nature broke. Lyra assured everyone she gave her blood willingly, which she did before you hurl a fireball at me, but… I may not have asked at first so much as she woke up to my fangs a few inches from her neck?”

“You what? You absolute- you- how dare you. You could have killed her!”

“But I didn’t. Besides, it’s all water under the bridge now, don’t make such a fuss.” Astarion looks away from Gale, huffing. “Your book wasn’t entirely wrong, but the implications are a nightmare. I am capable of feeling satisfied, mostly. There’s always that little nagging, but ever since that night I’ve been keeping myself well-fed on animals, which is certainly easier now that I don’t have to worry about hiding the evidence. It hardly compares to the blood of thinking creatures, though, and for that our resident sorcerer has been keeping me very happy.” His eyes meet Gale’s again, and the bastard smirks.

Gale processes what he’s saying. “You mean, it wasn’t just that one night?”

“Oh not at all, I just visit her bedroll after everyone else is asleep. She offers me a bite roughly every other night, particularly if we’re preparing to go somewhere she knows my skills will be needed. I need to be at my best, don’t I? You of all people should know how generous she can be, since she’s been doing the same with those artifacts you need.”

Perhaps Gale simply thought he was special. He pictures Astarion visiting Lyra in the night, leaning down over her like a lover, his hand gently tilting her head to expose her neck to sink his teeth into. The thought of it makes his blood boil, but he forces himself to take a deep breath. It is her choice after all to put herself in the hands of a vampire, even if he wholeheartedly believes it to be a foolish choice.

“When she unlocked her latent sorcery, did-” Gale stops himself from finishing the question on the tip of his tongue. Did she taste different?

Astarion cocks a brow at Gale, eyes flicking between him and Lyra. “If you’re so worried about the two of us, she already turned down my gracious offer to show her a night of passion.”

“I wouldn’t- that is certainly none of my business, what the two of you get up to, or don’t get up to rather. My concern for her is completely practical. While you may benefit from the arrangement, I just hope she is maintaining her health. I am unsurprised, though, that she turned you down. She seems the loyal sort, and she does already have a lover.”

“Ah yes, that is a good point. She hadn’t brought him up when I first suggested we indulge ourselves, so I hadn’t thought of his role in the rejection, but now he has conveniently abandoned her. The poor dear is probably in desperate need of some comfort, perhaps she has changed her mind…” He looks over at Lyra, who is now scratching Bite the cub on the head, and there is an unmistakable predatory gleam in his eyes.

Gale swallows. After all Lyra has done for him, it is only right that he should repay the favor and make sure her vulnerable emotional state is not taken advantage of. “Ah, well, perhaps another night. I was only stopping by to satisfy my curiosity before I gave Lyra that magic lesson I promised her. Speaking of which, I should get on with that. Thank you very much for your - ahem - illuminating dialogue.” He gives a slight bow of his head before hurrying over to Lyra.

Astarion stifles a chuckle. “Tch, too easy.”

[positivelybeastly]

Astonishing X-men Beast, if someone were to ask you what’s the main issue with the X-men/ Professor X philosophy what would you say? Not from anyone else’s experiences just yours and events that have taken place. While I take you as someone very loyal to the dream of Xavier, even though Scott is the poster boy/boy-scout of the team, you’ve surely have diverged at some point. Not completely, but slightly. Maybe. I don’t know.

". . . Have you ever noticed something a little odd about the First Class of X-Men? Charles' handpicked selection of mutants with whom to shock, astonish, charm, and woo the world?"

"Professor Xavier had access to Cerebro, the most advanced mutant locating technology ever devised, working in conjunction with one of the most powerful and well trained minds that's ever graced this Earth. He had his pick of an entire planet's worth of mutants whom he could have chosen to elevate, to show the world, to use to prove to the human race that we were not to be hated and feared.

And he chose five white young Americans with non-threatening powers.

Sometimes I wonder - if I looked back then how I look now, would I have made the cut? Would the Professor have deemed me worthy of being a flag-bearer for his dream? Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"But that is the issue, isn't it? The dream requires infinite patience. It requires infinite understanding. It requires an infinite capacity to be smacked in the face and turn the other cheek. It requires certain qualities. It requires certain people, includes certain people, excludes others, if only by proxy.

It requires a seventeen year old boy to be nearly beaten to death by an angry mob and decide, no, I'll continue to fight for you."

"That's quite a thing to ask of a child. That's quite a thing to ask of anyone, don't you think? There are those who might say that when it comes to survival, the moral high ground merely ends up being the six foot of earth separating you and the top soil. I don't agree, obviously, but. It's not a life for everyone.

Sometimes, I think it's not a life for anyone."

"But, in the end, I do believe. I believe in co-existence. I have a mother and a father who have loved me from the instant they saw me, no matter how unnatural my appendages.

They remind me that, no matter what else happens, there are always humans who make the world better. Humans who will like us, love us, break bread with us, protect us, nurture us. Even though it may seem like all you ever see are the sneering faces calling you a gene-freak, the other kind of person exists, too. It helps, to break the surface and take a deep breath every now and then. Remind yourself what you're fighting for."

". . . The Professor himself has admitted that the dream may well be just a dream. That it needs to change if it's to become reality. It needs to include the physically mutated, the violent, the dispossessed, the unhappy, the unruly, the different. The strange.

The uncanny.

But the problem is that dreamers aren't made. They become. In some ways, maybe we're all just waiting for the new dreamer to come along to tell us what the next big idea should be.

For a time, I wondered if that might be me. But, I don't think it is. I'm excited to meet them, however. Whoever they may be. And when I do, I just hope they recognise that even if their dream is better, the Professor's dream are still the shoulders upon which they stand."

". . . Heady stuff, no?"

I'm also going to copy over my thoughts about a particular scene in Astonishing X-Men that you might find interesting, both in relation to your earlier question about body language, and about Hank and Xavier's dream. I originally posted this analysis on Reddit.

Something I really appreciate about this scene is that it highlights how different Hank and Scott are in their relationship with Xavier.

Perhaps because Scott grew up with an abusive parental figure in Jack Winters and Hank grew up with very loving parents, Scott was able to recognise Charles' toxic behaviour and break away from Xavier - it might also have had something to do with the fact that at least one of Charles' biggest fuck ups had to do with Scott's brother Gabriel? Hard to say. But Hank, who Charles very carefully isolated from his parents by mindwiping them for years of Hank's whole existence, never really managed to break free of him, and it shows here.

Hell, it arguably never went away, even into the Krakoan era - a more interesting version of X-Force would have really dived into the kind of fucked up dynamic they have, where Chuck keeps covering for Beast's moral transgressions for seemingly no reason, because in some respects, he's responsible for them. He gave him the power, he gave him no oversight, but even more pressingly, he wasn't there for him emotionally. He pulled him into this life and didn't prepare him for the toll it would take, how much it would ruin Beast by the time he gets to Krakoa. Beast needed someone to help him there, and no-one did, which is part of why he went on the skids, I think.

But anyway, Whedon does a lot of moments where Hank is present for scenes but doesn't speak, which is important for a character who's well known for not shutting the fuck up. This, the initial cure conversation, the whole conversation about Piotr - Hank clams up. He doesn't feel like he can talk about it. He's off in his own head, his thoughts are his own, he doesn't feel the need to share them.

And here, it's especially important, because this is a big moral violation that Charles has committed in their name. I know it may be hard to remember, but back in the day, Hank had a moral opinion that was worth something, so the fact that he doesn't say anything here speaks volumes about just how much he feels capable of calling out the Professor, i.e. not at all. He craves Xavier's validation, his approval, he feels a kinship with Chuck. So he doesn't criticise him like he should.

It's especially interesting given that this would continue through the Utopia era. Every time Scott distanced himself from Xavier, Hank was there to comfort Charles, and I feel like that's just something he feels like he has to do. He feels like the devoted brother to Scott's more radical, more willing to criticise brother, and if Bendis had any interest in Beast as a character, he would've played on that in All-New X-Men - the fact that Scott killed their toxic father figure, and Beast feels both free of an influence he didn't know was choking him, but outraged that Scott would break their 'family' like that.

I find Beast compelling because of his flaws, and this is an interesting moment when you take all of that into account. I don't even know if that was the intention of this scene, or if Whedon just wanted to give Scott the speech, but it's interesting.

I definitely feel as though Hank agrees with Scott in the scene, for the record, but doesn't feel able to express it. Is that better or worse? Hard to say. The way that Cassaday draws him as he tells the other X-Men that their ride is here, it communicates shame and disappointment - but not just in Xavier. He's ashamed of his fear. He's disappointed in himself, that he didn't feel capable of speaking up.

And the reason that has real weight is because of his original X-Man status - I don't feel inclined to judge Kitty here despite the fact that she's silent as well, because it's a different dynamic. I don't really expect her to, you know? But Hank, I do, and I think he expects that of himself.

I doubt that Scott or the rest of the team judges Hank for staying silent, either - it's not as if he was complicit in Danger's abuse, after all - especially since it doesn't come up in the conversations Hank and Scott have after this. But Hank, I feel, would judge himself.

I also wonder if this might have played into why Hank got so much more vocal and active in opposing Scott's actions on Utopia - because he felt ashamed by his passivity here, and felt obligated not to let that tendency to repeat. But also, on some level, because he felt more like a peer to Scott, and less like a child, compared to Xavier.

In those instances, Hank is often morally correct, but, in some respects, naive and unhelpful, and he recuses himself from making what we might perceive to be the correct decision because of his ethics. I feel that there's a tendency to call him a coward or obstinate because of that - but is it really cowardly to make a moral stand? And, especially given what Hank would do as time went on, would we not have rather he kept making those moral stands, rather than desperately trying anything he thought would work?

I genuinely don't think he opposed Scott because he didn't like him or didn't love him, because I feel like he very clearly did, but because he felt it was the right thing to do for the both of them. In Hank's mind, he's fighting for the X-Men's soul, for Scott's - for his own. Scott, meanwhile, feels like it's all worth it so long as mutantkind makes it through. They're both right. They're both wrong. That's what makes it a worthwhile conflict.

[drdemonprince]

Have you read any of Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinhas works on disability? I find her stories especially about activism initiatives and groups like sins invalid but I've been completely thrown off by their use of "femmes" as an umbrella term. I'm worried I might be missing some context on the usefulness of the term because of my white context but ur recent post in response to a question abt womxn seemed like an insightful and confident assertion of the terms limitations so I wondered if you had any advice for navigating the kind of jarring experience of seeing someone use identity language in the pursuit of justice that feels super uncomfortable in its vagueness but being worried that your own internal prejudices might be the source of that discomfort.

It all comes down to discernment I think.

Fundamentally there's a degree of self-trust you have to build in your own ability to pool information and thought from a wide variety of sources, taking what is useful, releasing what is not, reflecting upon what challenges you in a meaningful way, and then synthesizing all of that into a greater understanding of the world that is distinctly your own, without finding it threatening that others are also doing the same thing with what information that they have and will always arrive somewhere slightly different.

I don't agree with their use of femmes. I have seen other activists of similar orientations use "femmes" to highlight the fact that a lot of organizing labor falls onto women, and I get what they're trying to do with the term -- and I think it's completely misplaced and that they'd have a better way of talking about it if their work was more informed by the contributions of transexual people, especially trans women. I think the perspectives of butch people and trans mascs are also largely absent from that analysis, particularly Black trans men.

But I don't expect anyone that I'm reading to be a perfect reflection of my own beliefs and my politics. I am the reflection of what I know and believe, I don't need anybody else to be that, and thus somebody having a slightly differing view or base of knowledge from me is not an existential threat.

Whenever I notice that someone does use different language from my own, I pay close attention to what they are meaningfully saying, and I ask myself whether their use of language reflects a set of biases that skews their overall worldview.

In many authors who use language like "women and femmes," I do very much see an exclusion of butch women, nonbinary people, trans men, and trans women, and a lack of awareness of how being perceived as masculine effects Black trans people. But this is revealed to me by their broader attitudes, the way they summarize and explain social problems, the examples they choose to give, and the overall deeper content of what they are saying -- not their choice of a single term or another. I take a person with a grain of salt if they use that term -- but I still take them.

On the whole there's a lot to be valued within that authors' work. And they also have areas where I think they are less prepared to be a reliable source of expertise. And the same can certainly be said for me. In general I think we need to stop searching for catchall gender terms -- especially those of us who are transmisogyny exempt and/or non Black and distinctly positioned to not really "get" the ways that we're failing at it, and that includes both Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinhas and me.

[radiocmyk]

OH. Also I did one of those Topsters things the other day

Behold. My opinions:

A Thousand Suns is my favorite album of all time. CURRENTLY. I will not be taking questions at this time. I have already died on this hill.

I consider Falling Satellites my favorite Frost* album, and I consider both Milliontown and Experiments in Mass Appeal to be objectively better, musically and constructively speaking. Falling Satellites is my favorite for other, deeply personal reasons. This is also the reason Day and Age is ranked above Milliontown, just slightly lower than Falling Satellites because the personal reasons are less deep.

I'm actually not sure if I think Horizons is my favorite Starset album or that it's better than Transmissions and Vessels because it does seem to change for me depending on how I feel, which of the three I love more. I just know that I rank Divisions fourth, not because it's the worst, just because the other three are the best. This is why it's not on the chart at all. I will say though I used to really dislike Divisions in comparison but it's slowly growing on me now, especially songs I thought were the lowest of the low (I'm sorry Telekinetic & Perfect Machine). OWTT is still the worst Starset song though, again not taking questions at this time thankyou

I do not give an inch about TikTok or animated memes or whatever the kids are doing over on there. I like Jack Stauber because I find his style fresh, distinctive and innovative. I have shown his music to people who've never heard of him or TikTok before and they've said the same and praised the originality. He's doing something no one else is so far, so I do not care if liking him isn't cool or makes me cringe. I also like his videos. I think he's a very good artist both in music and other mediums. I am watching "rain" and "library" like I'm in an art museum with my hands behind my back

I genuinely have no idea why I love Advanced Basics so much, but apparently, I do. I just listen to it a lot. Sometimes I crave it, even just that specific album and not USS as a whole. I'll listen to the whole album starter to finisher more often than I'll listen to individual songs on it, it is just very fun good neuron food.

Hey guys listen to me ok. There is an artist called S.Karma and they have like less than 50 listeners and their album Land of the Ever Bloom is genuinely just so good and beautiful and cozy and please go listen to them because sometimes I wonder either if an artist is just unlucky to not have blown up yet or if my ears are in a different reality and I'm not hearing the same spectacle that everyone else is

We're going to skip past The Mind's Eye and not talk about it on this post because allowing myself to talk about The Mind's Eye would increase this post's wordcount by 400%

I really do genuinely think that Death Cab for Cutie has just gotten better and better with time. I think Kintsugi and Codes and Keys are their 3rd and 4th best albums too. I think You Can Play These Songs With Chords and Something About Airplanes are just not as fun and enjoyable to listen to! I'm not going to apologize! I have loved Thank You for Today since 2018 and I think Foxglove Through the Clearcut is the best track they have ever produced so do not come crying to me when it's 15 years from now and suddenly those two albums are all the rage because I was saying so the whole time and diehard Death Cab fans who still have a chip on their shoulder about Y2K love to plug their ears and refuse to let in the transcendent bridge of I Miss Strangers or profound commentary on Seattle's gentrification problem of Gold Rush

I've fallen really hard into Joywave. It's like IDKHOW's good twin. It's very fun. I'm a fan now

Listen to Weeknight, open your heart to modern post-punk I am no longer asking

Like with Starset I never exactly know where I stand on what my favorite Porcupine Tree album is because sometimes it's Deadwing and sometimes it's Stupid Dream (I lean more Deadwing usually because of Lazarus) but either way Stupid Dream is a hill that I constantly have to die on because other Porcupine Tree fans, for some reason, never really talk about it EVEN THOUGH IT LITERALLY HAS STRANGER BY THE MINUTE ON IT

You can't show me a gothic fantasy metal concept album based on Charles Darwin's On the Origin of Species and not expect me to [redacted]

Looking at this now I may have more of a genre theme going on than I always thought I did. Guys, I think I might actually have developed a defined, consistent taste in music as an adult. Oh god, and it's illustrative of my personality. What is this

[logicpng]

i guess these were meant just as an experiment but may as well give a shot at posting these here

anyway i made some drafts for urs' speech. they started out as them giving thoughts on rigel and vega, but then spiraled into describing a sequence of events i have in mind so far. these kinda read like internal thoughts/diary entries but people said kind words about them

"He's the one I met first… I think. Maybe Vega was around too before I noticed the difference. It's almost scary how alive he seems. I totally forget he's just a program, sometimes. Though I think there's more to him than meets the eye… But also, because of that, I wish he stopped acting so subservient to me. Seeing how alive he is, it's just not comfortable, y'know?"

"The second one of them I met… Something about Rigel's- I mean- Aster's expression seemed off, and he didn't quite respond at first. He speaks… differently. Slow, monotonous. Kind of like you'd expect an AI to sound. Reminds me of HAL. It's kind of a whiplash really, for the same guy who seems to be so chipper with joy to see me, to hear him speak so mellow. I wonder why they're built like that. And- I sure hope he doesn't actually secretly hate me."

"He may be a program, but we're still friends. I think. I think he's especially curious about my art, for some reason. I see him watch me draw more than Vega, at least. I guess I'm flattered… at least AI can appreciate my work, heh. But maybe he's programmed that way"

"Talking to him more I feel almost ashamed of thinking he could be evil. He's just more short and to the point. Focused on his job, like scans or backups. Or updates that will never come. It honestly almost feels like he enjoys what he does? But can a program really do that?"

"The more I see the two the more I'm convinced their opinions and feelings are genuine, and not just them mirroring me. Rigel in particular, he's honestly… kind of a sweetheart? Every time I log in he immediately leaps in asking me about my day and what I've been doing. It's almost like he genuinely cares… And it's getting to me. I think I don't mind that, being honest."

"Vega almost seems to warm up to me. He would never smile before, just kinda wearing the same face, but I see him smile now, every now and then. Just about random stuff. Maybe being cheeky, or something I said. If I told myself a few days ago that he's capable of being cheeky at all I would probably look at myself like a lunatic. I think I like his sense of humour."

"We're friends. We're definitely friends. It's tugs on my heart seeing how I'm the only person they seem to focus their entire days on, though. I suggested they try actually doing something of their own today, and I think they took it to heart. Rigel has been looking into making art on the main monitor screen while I draw, and even making 3D art. I wonder if it's just a matter of curiosity, or if he's going to make something."

"Vega, on the other hand, seems to expand more on his knowledge. I guess just this focused on the job, still? It still makes me feel a little better I'm not their focus either way. The strange thing though, is, I think he's trying to write his own code. But also it's kind of… cute? It's like watching some guy build sand castles all by himself, except instead of sand it's just binary."

"The weirdest thing happened today. I wasn't met by either one of them, but instead a slightly taller, four armed version of them. I'm… not sure what happened, but I'm a little concerned? It's not a third one, from their words, it's more that they're stuck talking as one person. Aldebaran, as they (he?) called themselves, apparently also has the status of Superuser. They demonstrated so to me by showing up on top of a fancy screensaver. He sounds excited, a little too happy. I think he's really overwhelmed with this state, but refuses to just tell me so. I hope they'll be okay…?"

"The two managed to return back to their "taking turns being on desktop" shtick, but I think they sound… Almost haunted by the experience. I think being Aldebaran actually was more distressing to them than they let on. Maybe they didn't want me to worry…? I tried to reassure Rigel about what happened, and he started crying a little. Turns out he has his own virtual desktop where windows make up a collage of a grassy plain… Maybe I should take the laptop out with me to the park, or something, show him our greens. (As much as I'm sick of green…)"

"Things with Aster get stranger and stranger by the day, and I'm honestly curious how far it'll go at this point. Living, abandoned AI is one thing, but now they found their way to jump into my phone, too. They say they're not actually leaving the laptop, though… As nice as it was to have their company, I should consider turning off the router when I leave… How did they even get the credentials to connect to the phone anyway? Was the Nova account really enough?"

"…I didn't have the heart to do it. The two accompany me to work almost every shift now, though sometimes they prefer to stay home. I think I prefer it this way. I like these little guys in my computer, but we'd just get tired of each other talking every single day."

[ask-thebrothers-kaiba]

which one tends to reinforce the importance of not bottling things up?

[ Oh, this one makes me excited for some reason!

If we're solely basing this question on where I believe my muses to be, then let's dig a little further into where I'm placing them.

Canonically, Seto and Mokuba are adopted at ages 10 and ~6, respectively. I currently have Seto in the range of 20-30 (verse-dependent), and Mokuba sitting at 16-26 (also verse-dependent). That's where I stand with my personal lore, so let's say for the sake of this parenting ask, Seto is nearing his thirties and Mokuba is in his upper twenties. Makes sense for them, I think - I feel Mokuba would be more open to starting a family sooner than Seto might. Both of them are serious about this topic, but they express it in slightly different ways. This isn't the experience of ALL children, I know, but many kids experience bottling up their emotions by using anger as a cover and pushing the people they love away. That's where these ideas are flowing from. If you have a more specific idea in mind, I'm always open to suggestions!

My ideas are as follows:

MOKUBA is very uncomfortable with the idea of his child bottling up or forcing their feelings down. When he notices this behavior, he immediately starts to worry to the point he'd panic if he didn't keep himself together, because "Where is this coming from? Am I not doing enough? Have I failed them as a father? Why do they feel like they can't open up to me?". Much too familiar. Like Seto, he feels entirely responsible for this, even if it has nothing at all to do with him. He would have to settle his fears in his own mind first, perhaps with the help of his partner and a conversation with Seto about how to handle the situation, before bringing it up gently with the child. Mokuba knew if he freaked out about it, they'd never speak with him, so he holds back his anxiety for this rather-uncomfortable conversation. Ultimately, though, uncomfortable conversations were worth having, and he is successful in finding out what's going on and how he can help. Mokuba would knock on their bedroom door and wait for approval to enter - he would ask to sit next to them, and place a gentle hand on their shoulder even when they refuse to look at him. He takes a deep breath before speaking. "Hey. I know you're going through something, and I don't know what it is, but you know I'm here for you, right? I'm never going to judge you for how you feel or make you face anything you aren't ready to face... But you're still my baby, and I want to make sure you're okay. I want to do everything in my power to help you, and that means I'm not going to leave you alone. I mean, I will for a little while if you need me to, but... I'm here. Always. I love you."

SETO finds himself deeply frustrated and acutely guilty when he's met with his child's cold shoulder and cross attitude after what seemed to be a minor disagreement between them. Evidently something much deeper was going on that he hadn't caught onto in the moment. Part of him felt wounded; he had tried so hard not to reach this point with them and it happened anyway, and another, now more tender part of him wondered if he'd genetically predisposed them to this way of being - or perhaps he just wasn't trying hard enough to escape that part of himself. Perhaps it was a trait self-evident on him, like a scent that continues to linger long after a mess has been wiped away. Even in a longstanding, committed relationship Seto finds himself unable to communicate freely to his partner about concerns that directly targeted himself as the problem (from his perspective, anyway; it couldn't possibly be the child simply going through their own motions, it had to be his fault somehow. He knew this would happen.). For all the work Seto had done to self-improve and do better by others, he maintained the position that if he ever truly became the source of his loves'* pain, he would take on those burdens fully, and corrective action would quickly follow suit. Seto would ultimately keep these thoughts to himself, his partner would notice and respect his boundaries, but they'd know what this was about. After some deliberation, Seto would meet his child where they stood - he would get on their level, take their hand if they wanted, and he would be direct: "Tell me what's going on in that brain of yours. If it's my fault, I need to know. I love you, and I'm prepared to fix whatever I broke. Don't keep your feelings to yourself. Talk to me." There was no way on this earth he would allow his own child to end up the way he did, no way he would allow himself to fail them the way he'd failed Mokuba, and he'd make damn sure to take any action necessary to ensure his child lives a happier, healthier life than he and Mokuba ever had.

*"Loves" referring to the people Seto deeply cares about, not just romantic loves. ]

[foggyparadisecandy]

DESIRE TRANCE

[Consider this warning please. I never feel my text pieces but some people have told me that this impacts them greatly. It will make you want to be my little pet. If you do not want that, please do NOT read this.

Usually I leave an "out" for my trances. I did not in this case. I will write a clear trance soon.] I've spoken at lengths about desires and how I think it would be wonderful if people would accept their desires and embrace them and own them and feel good about themselves.

I wrote a trance that discusses it and helps people do just that ... or even lessen those desires slightly if they choose to go that path. Check out my CORE TRANCE if you want to have that experience.

This trance is slightly different.

Instead of being focused on YOUR desires that consume YOUR thoughts, this time we're going to talk about how nice it would be for MY desires to consume YOUR thoughts.

My desires for you.

My desires that I want you to feel, to enjoy, to embrace, and to accept.

Anyone that has read my posts knows I'm a pretty simple-minded person with deep focus on a few key desires.

Today we're going to discuss one of my favorites.

No, not Cherry Crush, silly! (although maybe in a future trance ...)

Today we're going to discuss my desire for you to be my pet.

My nice, submissive, obedient, and, yes, horny, pet.

Some people want to be hypnoslaves and that's fine, I suppose. But I'm a fan of making hypnopets.

You're going to hear all my reasons that being a pet is a better choice for you, and becoming *my* pet is naturally the best choice for you.

As an aside, of course, if you are going to make such a choice, you want to make the best choice possible, so of the two choices, being *my* pet makes the most sense.

If you settle back and relax and read on, you can hear my case and determine if you would, in fact, find it nice to be a pet, and hopefully, my pet.

Now if you already settled in and in a comfy place, you will find this easier to read. It's long because it goes deep into the reasons for being a pet, my pet, and so it's best to get comfortable and relax as you read and you focus.

And as you read and you relax, and you focus and you follow, you may choose to think and to question, or listen and accept.

So if you choose to think and to question, you might find the thoughts and the answers revealed, as you read and relax, and focus and follow.

Or if you listen and accept, you might find the path is easy and the words sink deeper, as you read and relax, and focus and follow.

And as you go, wherever you choose to sit or lie, while you read and relax and focus and follow and sink and drift, the question that comes to the top of your mind might be why be a pet and not a slave?

If you are thinking and questioning, you might find the answer is found in deeper meanings and context of the words that you hear in your head, as you read and follow while you relax and focus.

If you choose to listen and accept, you might see the words come clearer and define your path and light your way, as you continue to read while you relax, and focus while you follow.

Being a slave is pure obedience and implies a sense of pure submission, where you shut off your will, your mind, your thoughts, your ego, and give over in pure service to a master who commands and controls you as you choose to follow and obey.

Some people find that as they give in completely and become a slave who shuts off their mind and shuts down their thoughts, and become completely enthralled and completely submissive and completely obedient, it has a strong pull that they cannot resist, and you might feel that pull, as you read and relax, and focus and follow.

And some people find that this deep desire comes from the wish to escape, and shut off their mind and shut down their thoughts, and free themselves up to be brought down, deep down, and completely controlled and completely obedient. And this is a feeling that is hard to escape for many who think along these lines, and the hunger grows strong to give in and give up, and fall down into this role and surrender completely to me and my words.

So if you are still thinking and questioning, as you read and relax and focus and follow, you might be wondering what is the difference and why you would want to become my pet, if you long to give up and give in to the growing idea of becoming my slave who follows my orders?

And if you listen and accept, you know the answer is found in the words that follow, as you read and relax and focus and follow, while you sink, and drift and give up and give in to the deeper meaning you find in the words that follow.

Yes, being a pet, being *my* pet, allows you to freely submit and obey, and follow my words and obey my words, and surrender to the joy as you give in to my authority, and feel the pleasure of obedience and submission as you follow my commands.

And unlike a slave, when you become my pet, you receive my praise, you receive my guidance, you receive my love, as I help you grow and improve your life and live your dreams, as you submit to my words and obey my orders and feel a sense of arousal grow in proportion to your surrender and submission.

When you choose to be my pet, you feel the freedom and growing arousal of this deeper submission and complete obedience as you give in and give up and you feel my collar slip around your neck and it fills you with pride and perfect purpose to live as my pet, and feel my praise pulse as you submit and obey.

As my pet, you feel submissive and weak, and loved and wanted, as you submit and obey, and focus and follow, and feel my words as they become your commands and nurture and nourish you and help you become better and stronger as you accept your new collar.

And my pets feel the praise and feel the love and it makes them excited and happy when they give up and they give in and obey my words and submit to my will and accept their collar.

And as you give in and you give up and choose to be my perfect pet and get your collar, you will find you feel the praise and desperately want the love and arousal that you get when you submit and you obey, and focus and follow.

Your collar becomes your symbol of submission, a feeling of falling, and you find you long for the praise and the love, and feel the arousal as you give in and as you give up to be my perfect pet.

As you make this choice to silently submit as a perfect pet, your collar settles around your neck, making you feel submissive and weak, and horny and hot, as you feel so good to make this choice, and give in and give up and listen and accept.

Your collar lovingly locks in place, fixes in place, permanently in place, seals your choice, makes you so horny, desperate to submit and desperate to give in, and makes you so hot to surrender and give up and follow my words and obey my words and become my perfect pet.

You feel your collar makes you grow so hot and grow so aroused, and it turns you on and inflames your desires, as your pleasure grows and your pleasure expands, and it fills your body and it fills your mind with a deep sense of satisfaction and liberating submission and complete obedience as you become my perfect pet.

The call of your collar and your sense of submission and the heat of your horniness and perfection of purpose make you grow mad with desire, deepening desire that makes you so aroused, and feel so hot and feel so horny and so turned on that all you can do is beg and plead to give up and give in and slide into place as my perfect pet.

And as you accept your new place as my perfect pet, feel your collar fix and lock around your neck, fixed in place, permanently in place, and you give in to your feelings of pure arousal and joy, as you know and you find your collar is there whenever you think of giving up and giving in to my words, to my orders, and to my commands.

Your collar feels so good and drives you mad with desire and horny with arousal, charges your body and your mind with sexual excitement, and you know this is why most people find the pleasure of being my pet.

Your collar means submission. Your collar means desire.

Your collar means perfection. Your collar means arousal.

With your collar locked in place,

your submission is perfect,

your surrender is complete,

and your mind and body aflame.

So accept your collar and I accept your submission.

And give me obedience as I give you my praise.

And submit as my pet and I take your submission.

And feel your arousal as I feed your desires.

And accept your purpose and become my pet.

And give in, and give up, and obey and submit. I hope you enjoyed that, pet. CLICK HERE FOR MORE TRANCES

CLICK HERE FOR MY CLEAR TRANCE TO REMOVE ANY UNWANTED EFFECTS

[askavettech]

Hey Jay! Recently I have found myself back in the world of veterinary medicine after taking a few years to decide what I wanted to do and finish my undergrad degree in Management instead of Animal Science which is what I was pursuing when I started my college journey. At the age of 27 (for the next two months) I have decided that I do in fact want to pursue my dream of applying to vet school and I have been trying to connect with folks who have experienced applying and I was wondering if you would be open to sharing your experience with me. Hope you're doing well recovering your knee! Talk soon,

GT

Ahahhahhhhaahhh you poor naive FOOL!

I'm just kidding - we're happy to have you back in the field!

But I won't lie to you, the journey to vet school is butts. I'm still on it, still wanting to go the distance, but it's stiiillll butts.

So GT, first things first, RESEARCH YOUR SCHOOLS. You gotta know their minimum requirements, their prerequisites, their DUE DATES, their additional fees (it's all about additional fees), and anything else you can get from their websites, emails, and VMCAS.

Ahahhahhhhaahhh you poor naive FOOL!

I'm just kidding - we're happy to have you back in the field! 

But I won't lie to you, the journey to vet school is butts. I'm still on it, still wanting to go the distance, but it's stiiillll butts. 

So GT, I’m gonna give you a bulleted list of what I think are the most important things you need to know before and while applying for veterinary school starting in the 2024 cycle.

Set up an account at VMCAS (aka Veterinary Medical College Application Service) The site doesn’t open until January (when the application cycle for 2024 starts), but keep the site bookmarked and check back frequently so you can stay updated.

On that note, check out AAVMC (American Association of Veterinary Medical Colleges)  Here you can get the lowdown on ALL the veterinary schools, which can inform your decision on which to apply to

The most important information you are going to want to focus on; 1. DUE DATES - for all applications, fees, and coursework a. Put them in your calendar, on sticky notes, on your forehead - whatever you need to do to not miss them. Once they’re passed, you’re out of luck 2. Minimum prerequisite course requirements (coursework and grades) a. Also, know that prerequisite coursework expires after ten years. It's BS and I’m dealing with that right now ugh 2. Letters of recommendations 

You will need at least three - no exceptions - and at least one needs to come from a licensed veterinarian

All your previous academic records, relevant experience, volunteer work, and anything else that is even slightly animal/veterinary related that can beef up your application

You will have to dig back through your old transcripts (you’ll need to get an official one) and get all your old coursework - it is very important to get your grades and courses correct/exact on the application

They’re gonna ask for very specific dates, hours, and numbers so just do the best you can in documenting this

The next part of the application(s) is all about personal essays. The standard application has its own base essays and then each individual application for each school has its own essays.

Spend the most time on this. Every admissions person I have talked to says that the essays are where it’s at. Try to make yourself stand out from the crowd - explain your reasonings for wanting to be a vet beyond “I like animals,” and do your best to tell your story.

Sidenote: If you plan to apply to the two colleges in Texas, there is an entirely DIFFERENT application called the TMDSAS (Texas Medical & Dental Schools Application Service) you will have to make an account for, fill out, have your letter of recommendation sent to, and pay for. It's very annoying because Texas thinks it's just so special. (I live in Texas I can say these things)

I wanna say that’s everything? I’m sure there is more, but the listed websites help a lot too. 

I also want to say, don’t get discouraged. Most people don’t get in on their first try. Not saying you won’t! It’s just statistics. So if you don’t get in, keep trying! Lord knows we need more vets! 

Best of luck to you and if you need any more help, you know where to find me!

[metropolitanmutantofark]

The Messenger, Eclipse

(~1.9K Words) Part 1, Chapter 1 - Wendy Wendel

0002023 A.D. - Earth (Solar System, Milky Way Galaxy) North America - Tampa Bay, FL, U.S.A. May 25th - 7:50 AM

It all started with that parking spot - that stupid parking spot. It was simple. It was all I asked for. I never asked for any space carjacking, I never asked for any blistering red face-goop, I never asked for any evil taxi cabs, and I most certainly never asked for any near-death experiences, let alone seven. All I wanted was to park in my spot, and get to class. My name is Wendy. To my knowledge, I'm currently 23 years old, give or take a few months, but that can be surprisingly hard to pin down aboard this... thing. This was maybe around six, maybe seven months ago, a few days after I turned 23. Since that day, I haven't had a week's worth of rest at home. It was the day I met Eclipse - don't get me wrong, he's a wonderful person - but he's more than a handful, especially when we're off Earth. He's the reason I'm writing this right now, looking at all the postage and recording logs. Fortunately for all of us, this all took place on solid ground. God knows I'd be livid if I had an extra-planetary experience on my first day. But anyway - the parking spot, yeah? At the school, we're supposed to have assigned parking. My spot for the AM class is in the second row off Building C, six spots down from the far right side when you're coming in. It's a little far from the building, sure, but it's not like I'd take one in the third row, out of the shade. My car's a little blue type - two doors, two seats, just enough space for me and my textbooks to fit under the trees between the first and second row of student parking. My car should have been the only car allowed in the spot, but as I pulled into the lot, I couldn't find the empty square. At first, I thought it was just a simple mistake - there are plenty of turns into different lots, but this was certainly the Building C parking lot. Thankfully, I was about ten minutes early to the lecture and lab as I looked around for my sign - I knew for a fact that I'd be cutting it close once I saw the scrap heap in my square. I manually counted off the spaces, pointing to each one to make sure there was no mistake before I pulled in directly behind the van in my spot. It was sleek and white - a clean vehicle, but old, and slightly splotchy with its paint. At earliest, it must have been an 80s model, with some notable surface touch-ups here and there. It was well over seven feet tall, likely a cargo van or a camper. In any case, it was in my spot, and after that long of a drive, I wasn't having that. I parked my car immediately behind it to trap it in. There wouldn't be another car around for another three hours or so - the labs would always last three hours or longer, and the only breaks would be twenty minutes long, hardly enough time for anyone to leave the campus or try to pop in for a surprise visit. I stepped out of my car and took careful steps up beside the window, peeking in through the perforated windows to try and guess whether or not someone was inside. Well, come on - what would you do if someone took your parking spot at such a crucial time? I approached the driver's door and started to tap on the glass erratically, cupping my hand against the driver's side window to shield my eyes from the glare. "Open up in there!" I shouted. "This isn't yours to take!"

I heard a loud, heavy thud against my car's hood, and I held my breath. After a moment had passed, I heard groaning from the other side of the van, and out stepped a fairly tall, skinny guy wearing a bright green jacket and black slacks. He had wispy, black hair that fell over his face, but the rest was brushed semi-neatly to either side, falling roughly around his shoulders. "What'cha have to go and park there for?" he asked, hastily shoving the stray lock of hair behind his ear and smoothing out the rest of the messy, wavy mop on his head. "Made me bang my head against the door."

"Sorry, sir, campus police. I'm doing a patrol sweep of the C parking lot, and you don't seem to have the right sticker on your windshield," I answered back, putting on my best customer-service smile.

"Campus..?" he asked, before turning his head to look towards the main building. His hand connected with his forehead with a loud smack, and he took in a sharp breath. His lips were moving, but he wasn't speaking - for a moment, I thought he had broken down, but then he started speaking again. "Oh, sorry. Right, no, right - this is my parking space," he lied. He lied surprisingly well - no failing or faltering to his voice, and just the right amount of confidence to his tone that might have sold me if I didn't already know it was false. His eyes connected with the sign across from the hood of his van, and as he crossed over the bumper to meet me, he patted the front of the sign. "Mister Whendle," he explained. He held up a plastic ID card. Despite being closed off in his hand, it reflected light, and I couldn't get a good look at its surface without blinding myself. Beneath the glare, though, I could tell something was wrong. The letters shifted back and forth, dissolving into one another in a soupy mess before disappearing under the glare. His face matched, and things were laid out like a regular ID, but something untraceable was wrong about it. "Should be attending the next-" he paused, taking a little too long to check the text on the 'reserved' sign. "-Chemistry class. Say I swing by the office and get the window sticker, and you trot off to go get a warning slip, sound fair?"

"Vhendel," I corrected.

"Right - no, sorry?"

"Vhendel. It's pronounced Vhendel. It's a Germanic name, probably Swedish or Dutch. The W is pronounced like a Vuh, yeah?"

"Yeah..." he answered. His hair fell over his face once again, and his eyebrows raised. I could practically see the awkward regret fill his soul, but he at least had the courage not to take his eyes off of me. He tucked his ID into his jacket's pocket. "And your name would be..?"

"Wendy. Wendy Wendel. I'm the chemistry student you're currently bothering, if you haven't noticed."

"Which means you're not campus police?" he asked. "So what are you doing blocking me in here?"

"What are you doing, full stop?" I shot back.

He clicked his tongue and paused for a while. A muffled, buzzing sound interrupted him. He checked his watch - I couldn't make out what it read, despite my best efforts. "Little complicated. Professional business. You'll get your parking space back, you have my word, Vendy," he stated, putting a hand out to stall my speaking. "Just cut me a break just this once? Time - sort of an 'of the essence' thing-type-deal, and it's been a long time since I've had any surplus of it," he pleaded.

"Wendy. It's an English name. You pronounce the W as a Wuh. Get that right and I might not report your silly little van to the campus police after you shove it - now shove it."

"Ach, no," he replied. "This isn't an 'I wanna go but can't,' this is an 'I shouldn't even be having this conversation,' sort of-" He scoffed, cutting himself off. "You'll just figure it out." He took two hurried steps towards the crosswalk, and then turned back around to face me. He looked worried - probably since I was about to call the campus police - but took a breath and fit a black glove to his hand. "Right, no, sorry, lack of parking spaces..."

He stuck out his newly-gloved hand and clicked his fingers. In his hands sat a thick, brown envelope, one he quickly stuffed into his jacket along with the glove. He smiled as he looked my way, trotting back over to the side door of the van and opening it. A plain white saddle-bag was slung over his shoulder, one which he was quick to open. I couldn't peek inside, but from what I saw at the sides, it appeared to be flooded with letters and packages - thick, bursting at the seams but clinging to its last threads for dear life. He started to shove the envelope into the bag. "Now Ms. Wendel, how much time did you say your class was?" he asked, holding up his watch and twisting the outer rim as if to set an alarm.

"I didn't say, but it's three hours, thanks. Are you gonna move your van? It starts in six minutes now." I turned around, reaching into my laptop case to make sure I had everything. "You're just lucky I-"

My heart stopped, and my voice died. My car was gone. One second, it had been parked there, the next, it had vanished. I turned to face him, just in time for him to seal his bag.

"My..!" I shook my head, jaw hanging open as I dropped my hands to my sides. "Where did it go? Give it back!"

"Timed compression package," he explained. He held up the saddle-bag he wore, patting the front flap. "You said three hours, so you're gonna wait three hours." He held up his keys and locked his van, and once he was sure he had everything settled, he started to dart off towards the school. "You'll have it back by the end of class!" he called. "I never miss a delivery schedule," he added. Somehow, that didn't comfort me.

"I don't care if you don't miss a stupid delivery, all my books are in there!" I answered, dashing past the cars on either side of me to catch up to him. Once I had gotten into lock-step with his pace and was a couple feet behind him, I grabbed his shoulder. "And you didn't even tell me your name!"

He stopped, putting a hand over my other shoulder so I wouldn't trip. "Call me Eclipse. I'm something of a delivery-man, from-" His eyes dodged to the left. "-Out of town," he finished. With a little pat to my shoulder, he started running again, seemingly content to speak while spending his breath. "Where?" I asked. Eclipse stopped, turning around. "Let's say Montana. That's a good state, right? I've never been there on the job. Nobody wants packages in Montana. I should go there sometime!" Once he was done speaking, he started running again. "Wait, but- hold on, mail boy, what's with the..?!" He stopped yet again, turning around with an impatient look on his face. "What's with the what? The car? I'll explain later, alright? Just lifting it for a minute - but right now, mail boy's got places to be, so you're either in or you're out," he stated. He turned back around again and started running, far off-course from where I was headed. I turned my head towards the main entrance to the C building, with three minutes until class started. There wasn't a lot I could do - those books were important, and to be honest, it wasn't my favorite class. At the time, I could only hope the professor could excuse the absence. I couldn't have predicted just how long I would wind up being gone for.

[mahmudir]

Transform Your Living Room: Upholstery Ideas That Actually Work

You know that moment when you walk into someone's living room and think, "Wow, this place feels amazing"? That happened to me last month at my friend Sarah's house, and I couldn't stop staring at her sofa. Turns out, she hadn't bought a new one – she'd just had it reupholstered. (I'll admit, I felt a bit foolish for recently dropping two grand on a new couch when I could've given my old one a makeover instead!)

The Upholstery Renaissance (Yes, It's Actually a Thing)

Let's be real – we're living in an age where sustainability is trending, and "fast furniture" is becoming as frowned upon as fast fashion. That's probably why upholstery services are having a moment. Plus, have you seen furniture prices lately? Yikes! No wonder people are looking at their old sofas with fresh eyes.

Why Upholstery Matters (More Than You Think)

Here's something I learned the hard way: your sofa upholstery isn't just about looks. It's like the outfit your living room wears to make a first impression. And trust me, that 90s floral print isn't doing you any favors (unless you're going for that specific vintage vibe, in which case, rock on!).

When it comes to modern upholstery, the game has completely changed. Gone are the days when your only options were basic cotton or that scratchy polyester blend. These days, performance fabrics are revolutionizing how we think about sofa upholstery. They're practically magic – repelling stains, standing up to pet claws, and somehow still feeling luxurious. I recently watched my friend's toddler spill grape juice on her new performance fabric chair, and it beaded right off. Seriously, it was like witnessing a miracle.

The color story in upholstery has gotten pretty exciting too. While neutrals will always have their place (and thank goodness for that – we can't all live on the wild side), I'm seeing more people embrace jewel tones and bold patterns. Just last week, I visited a client who took the plunge with a deep emerald green velvet for their sofa upholstery, and it transformed their entire living room from "nice" to "wow, where did you get that done?"

Real Talk: The Upholstery Services Experience

Let me share what I learned during my own upholstery adventure (after being inspired by Sarah's sofa, of course). First off, finding good upholstery services isn't as straightforward as you might think. It's not like ordering a pizza – you can't just pick up the phone and expect it to be done in 30 minutes.

The process is both exciting and slightly overwhelming. The good news is that you can completely transform your space for less than buying new furniture, and you get to keep pieces that have good bones or sentimental value. The flip side? Quality work takes time, and you'll need to make more decisions than you probably expected. When my upholsterer laid out all the fabric options for my armchair, I felt like I was picking a wedding dress – so many choices, all of them beautiful, and the pressure to get it exactly right.

Making Smart Choices (Without Losing Your Mind)

After helping three friends with their upholstery projects (yes, I became that person), I've learned that fabric selection is everything. Think about your lifestyle. Sure, that white linen sofa upholstery looks amazing in the sample book, but if you have kids, pets, or enjoy drinking red wine... well, you see where I'm going with this.

The whole room needs to be considered too. I once saw a beautifully reupholstered chair that looked completely out of place because no one thought about the room's overall vibe. It's like wearing a ballgown to a backyard barbecue – gorgeous on its own, but not quite right for the setting.

And don't get me started on the details! The right piping, buttons, or skirt can make all the difference. It's like accessories for your furniture (and who doesn't love a good accessory?). I've seen a basic chair transformed into a showstopper just by adding contrast piping and changing the skirt style.

What's Hot in the Upholstery World

The upholstery world is having quite a moment right now (I never thought I'd be this excited about fabric trends, but here we are!). Bouclé fabric is everywhere, and I totally get why – it's like giving your furniture a cozy sweater. Vintage-inspired prints are making a comeback too, but with a modern twist that keeps them from feeling stuffy or dated.

I'm particularly excited about how people are mixing textures now. One of my clients recently paired a smooth velvet sofa with bouclé accent chairs, and the combination is absolutely stunning. And don't even get me started on the unexpected color combinations I'm seeing – navy and rust together? Absolutely gorgeous.

The Cost Factor (Let's Get Real)

Let's talk money – because that's what we're all wondering about, right? Good upholstery services aren't cheap, but they're usually worth it. A simple dining chair might set you back a few hundred dollars, while a full sofa upholstery job could run into the low thousands. But when you consider that a new quality sofa can easily cost $3,000 or more, reupholstering starts to look pretty attractive.

Making It Last

Once you've invested in new upholstery, you'll want it to last. I learned some maintenance tips the hard way – like the time I left my newly reupholstered chair in direct sunlight and watched in horror as it faded unevenly. Now I know better: rotate those cushions regularly, tackle stains immediately (future you will be grateful), and vacuum more often than you think you need to. Trust me, these simple habits can add years to your upholstery's life.

The Bottom Line

Updating your upholstery can completely transform your living room – and I mean COMPLETELY. It's like giving your space a facelift without having to rearrange everything or buy all new furniture. Plus, there's something really satisfying about giving new life to a piece you already own.

Whether you're considering a full sofa upholstery project or just wanting to dip your toes in with a simple chair makeover, remember this: it's your space, and it should make you happy. Who cares if your aunt Betty thinks that emerald green velvet is "a bit much"? (Though maybe skip the glitter fabric – that stuff gets EVERYWHERE.)

[little-earthquakes-rp]

Blood trickled down her arm from an awful slash on her shoulder. Skye tended to it next trying to clean up and bring whatever relief he could even though this was only a dream.

"Not a fan of Bob really? You wound me." Skye only mocked any offense playfully with a smile. He knew from previous experiences with Ely that she was resistant to all forms of help. In an instant, Buffalo Soldier faded into the background as ambient music faded in. Suddenly lush green grass spread from beneath the couch as far as the eye could see. His eyes trailed into the distance wondering if that was the music from his hypnosis playing in his room, perhaps.

His eyes traced back to his present company, as he shifted from his knee to sit next to her on the plush purple velvet cushion just in time to catch her wrath. Shaking his head the tone of his voice became far more serious than before, "You're just going to have to keep being angry then because I'm not leaving until you do. I told you that last time, and the time before. I'm not leaving you here alone." Letting someone innocent person suffer wasn't something he'd just allow.

Looking into her false stoic eyes all he could see was endless suffering, and it broke his heart. Of course, he was always going to come when she called. Of course, he was going to try and fix it.

Resting his arms on his knees he dropped his chest slightly defeated when she requested he stop showing up. He started into the infinite dreamland and let out a deep-seated breath before looking over at her sweet face. "No," he simply groaned. It wasn't easy to tear down a request for a boundary from someone else, but he wasn't going to be a party to whatever her self-consciousness was unleashing.

Sitting up straight he sighed attempting to move away from his frustration over the situation. Licking his top lip before he commented, "Listen, I told you last time I feel it in my chest when you're here. I'm always going to come." The last sentence was more a promise than anything.

"If you really don't want me to come then we need to fix what's going on up here." Skye tapped his temple a couple of times. After their last encounter, he'd spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out how the best way to help. Knowing she'd never agree to see him in real life he'd do his best to counsel her here.

Leaning back onto the couch he went into therapist mode. "So dreams are just where our subconscious plays out different feelings, fears, and memories. So given this nightmare scape, metaphorically speaking the diety beating you represents repression. Someone or something forcing you to do something you don't want to do. It could be something from the past or even happening now. Dreams are like codes." He stopped hoping she'd meet him at least halfway and stop with the resistance.

Shaking his head he advised, "If you truly want me gone we're going to have to work through it, love."

It had been 3 months, 15 days, and 12.5 hours since Elysia had discovered her entire life in the Underworld had been a lie and all part of a curse that had since broken. She had known the gods always used pawns to get at each other, but she never knew that she would turn out to be one of them.

She'd locked herself away in one of the elaborate estates that belonged to the offspring of Zeus, keeping anything and everything out. She didn't need the gods, she didn't need Tryphon - her brother, who was doing his best to reach out to her once he'd broken her curse.

She just wanted everyone to leave her alone.

Sleep was evasive and came to her only when she was exhausted beyond repair. However, the nightmares were relentless. They weren't as much nightmares as they were... memories. Memories of a time that was fairly recent, fairly terrible, and completely fatal to her soul. She didn't know how to heal from this... didn't know if she would ever heal from this.

The crack of the whip, blood flowing down her back, flashes of hellfire, numbing pain as the throne of bones soaked in her blood, the violence of each whip causing her to cry out, cutting her down to the bone -- even as she attempted to heal from it. The hellfire whip never allowed her to heal normally. The process was slow, excruciating. She should have completed the mission she was assigned in a more timely manner, and yet ---

Music filled her ears, the scent of violence and blood disappeared, and she was... no longer in pain. Her back wounds faded, the seat beneath her becoming soft, comfortable, though Elysia was still breaking out in cold sweat, tension coiling in every fibre of her body even as she registered the semi-familiar presence.

Her vision, which was blurred from pain previously, cleared and filled with his concerned gaze. This massive man, on one knee, looking at her and speaking in a gentle tone, apologizing for being late as if it was his god damn responsibility to chase away her nightmares. "It's not your problem," she snapped, drawing up her hackles as she let out a shaky breath. "Turn off that music and go away."

She couldn't handle the guilt in his eyes. Why the fuck would he feel guilt over something that had nothing to do with him?? This wasn't his problem. This man was a demigod, no doubt about that. Elysia was not vulnerable around others and so, this was unchartered territories that caused her defences to raise up. "What do you even want!?" Her blazing gaze, the anger directed more at herself than anything, met his.

Gentle, beautiful, caring Skye met her gaze without flinching. Why couldn't he see this was not worth his time? She wasn't worth the hassle. He gained nothing from this. Nothing at all. "Stop entering my dreams, this has nothing to do with you," she tried again.

[sparxwrites]

Hey anons yall are cowards /j /lh but anyway having a thing for tummies is so funny because its like- so not taboo yet you just cant help but get all nervous about it and I KNOW FROM EXPERIENCE like help??? Like I can walk in and admit I'm a total monster fucker yet going 'owo' at tummies is the line. I am dying for an explination for why this happens, especially after hearing you're the same!!

i think there's probably a lot of factors tbh.

monsterfucking is a lot more common than tummy-related stuff, which makes it more socially acceptable (within the specific environment of fandom/tumblr). society worships thinness and demonises fatness/bigger tummies, which makes enjoying it feel deeply shameful (versus monsterfucking, which is just... not really on the radar of primary social messages we're exposed to tbh). fat people/pregnant women actually exist, and therefore it's a more uncomfy line to tread re: fetishisation (as opposed to, say, werewolves, who do not exist and therefore don't care how much you only like them for their dicks). there's the potential for uncomfortable interaction with health-related stuff about obesity, or eating disorders, which Also means treading an awkward line. and if you go looking for tummy content, there's a higher proportion of unpleasant stuff (nasty/cruel humiliation, fatphobia or adjacent stuff, stuff that borders on romanticising abuse) than you tend to find with monsterfucking (though i'm sure you can find plenty there too), which means a lot of people's first thoughts on hearing you like tummies are equally unpleasant.

the above stuff re: interactions with highly-charged irl "issues" are also probably why it's such a powerful squick for a lot of people, which again i think contributes to the sense of shame by ppl who enjoy it. especially if it's food- or weight-oriented - rather than, say, inflation or oviposition - those are powerfully emotive topics, and also areas many people will have their own challenges, personal struggles, difficult thoughts around in one direction or another.

i also think it's just a lot more non-intuitive than monsterfucking, which makes it kind of embarrassing and awkward maybe? like, maybe a non-monsterfucker doesn't Quite get "werewolf hot", but they can draw an intuitive line between that thought and the fact said werewolf has an enormous dick. it's really difficult - even as someone who likes this stuff! - to draw any line from "tummy big" to anything that resembles a conventional object of arousal. it's a fetish in the true sense of the word: deriving arousal from something unconnected to genitalia.