#obviously I don’t know any of these people

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere Eldritch being who has taken over your entire town.

TW. Dead Dove Do Not Eat Horror, confinement, isolation, death, Stockholm syndrome, yandere

You didn’t know when it had happened, but there was something very obviously wrong with your town.

It was the little things like the warped street signs, the inconsistent cracks in the sidewalk, and the way that the uncanny faces of people seemed to stare at you. It didn’t use to be like this, but you found yourself cautious about your new reality on the daily. You did try to leave and call for help, but there was some mysterious force cutting off your network. And when you did try to pack all your bags and high tail it out of there, you would end up just looping straight back on your street no matter what direction you drove in.

So now you made do with the fact that nothing was normal.

You sometimes wonder why whatever has infected all the people decided to leave you alone. Because there was no way it wasn’t a conscious decision. Your favorite flowers would start sprouting out of concrete walls and glass despite the fact it would be the middle of winter one day and a scorching summer the next. Not to mention, those flowers didn’t even grow here to begin with. It was a gesture. If it was meant to tempt or be kind, you weren’t sure. 

The town functioned like nothing was out of the ordinary, though. Well, at least it tried to puppet the barely real bodies of your community to do things they would daily. The grocery store always had food and figures milling about, and even though none of the products ever tasted quite right or had words in a real language, you could tell “it” was trying to keep things running for you.

You’d once tried to hide away in your house, thinking that it was somehow protecting you from whatever was out there. But all you did was make it angry. Constant thunderstorms that shook the ground, and hail that pounded on your roof and walls. When you continued to stay inside, that’s when it made things clear: it was letting you stay as you were. The house shifted dramatically, doors disappearing and walls bending in front of your eyes. 

Come outside. Stop trying to resist.

Privacy was just another one of those far-out concepts now.

The thing, as you so liked to call it, had been more affectionate lately. You didn’t know exactly how to describe it, but it had started morphing all the “people” into more attractive versions of themselves. Or at least, what it thought of as attractive to humans. Their faces were more tangible now and less blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, but they were uncanny in a new way. Skin too smooth, too perfect in so many different ways. Symmetrical, full lips, pleasant expressions, soothing voices: all things that on paper would lure someone in, but it had alarm bells ringing in your head nearly all the time now.

“I don’t like this, you know,” You said one day as you sat in the diner. The room was stretched out wider than what it looked like on the outside, and the waitress had an unnaturally wide smile. Before you was a plate of… something. Your guess was pancakes.

“What do you mean?” Several voices asked at once. It came from all around, and the waitress’s mouth barely moved to match the words. 

“ I like you better when you aren’t trying so hard to be something you weren’t.”

There was a pause, and the building slowly unraveled into a jumbled mess of things that you could barely comprehend, the other patrons' faces and bodies melting away into linoleum floors. 

“You’re not human. You don’t have to be. I think I’d prefer that honestly,” You shrugged and poked at your food. From the corner of your eyes, a figure seemed to emerge from the mess of what used to be your favorite restaurant. It was a writhing mass of dark tendrils, reaching for anything nearby. You’re breath caught in your throat.

“Do you really mean that?”

The voice spoke, but there wasn’t any face to accompany it. It reverberated in the base of your spine, racing through your nerves like lightning. Your breath hitched, and you finally gathered enough courage to look at it. It was a mess of things you couldn’t quite make out, but it was almost comforting. 

“This is the first time I’ve actually seen you,” you admitted, a small laugh of disbelief caught in your throat. You couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time it had actually listened to you. 

The being twitched, pulsing as it slid over towards where you were sitting at the booth. It was the only thing that had stayed intact. For something so expressionless, you’d dare to say it seemed shy. 

From the inky mass, one tendril reached out for you, the air around it crackling. You stayed in place as it slid over your hand, and you felt the wonder and relief.

“Will you stay with me? I don’t want to force you, but I’m so alone… you’re the only one who doesn’t disappear when I’m near.”

You blinked as the mass filled the cracks between your hands, folding into the lines of your palms as if trying to memorize you. If it had a hand, you’d be holding it. If it had lips, yours would be slotting against them. If it had a heart, you were certain they’d be painted a similar shade of loneliness. 

You stood up and slowly approached it, holding out your arms as you leaned in, wrapped your arms around its slowly forming figure, and nodded in silence. 

[cybxrcvnt]

18+

Content Warning: Smut, PinV, Virgin!Daryl, Insecure!Daryl, Female!Reader, Unprotected sex (wrap it people), Reader gets bent over Daryl’s bike 😋, brief use of pet names including little dove, Angel, pretty girl.

Authors note: Guys please, I can’t stop thinking about this photo and scene. This got so out of hand. Genuinely this wasn’t supposed to start as Virgin!Daryl but this story wrote itself istg. I think I blacked out. But virgin Daryl is so special to me. I need to teach this man everything and then some.

Please HMO for a minute.

We all know Older!Daryl wouldn’t risk y’all having sex in the woods or really anywhere outside the house or walls of the community, it’s too dangerous with all the walkers and god forbid some psychos stumble across you. But Younger!Daryl is definitely less responsible. I’m talking Quarry or even Farm era, before the group runs into bad people and realises how fucked up people can get after the world ends. Plus we all know Norman played Daryl like he was a virgin, y’all need to remember that cause I’ve NEVER stopped thinking about it.

Daryl’s never been in a relationship before, and he has no idea why reader even bothers talking to him, let alone dates him. But after a solid month of flirting he finally believed you enough to date you. It’s not that he was hesitant, just skeptical. :(

Everything he knows about sex is from what Merle has told him and porno’s, but he refuses to believe any woman that’s been with Merle has actually enjoyed their time, so he doesn’t take his brothers ‘tips’ into consideration at all. Specifically when he said “Women love it when ya throw yerself at ‘em”, because he’s watched Merle get kicked out by security and pepper sprayed one to many times to believe that for even a second.

So when you came along, he never made the first move, always letting you come to him, maybe the occasional hand on you lower back or brush of your fingers but that’s about it. It was sweet at first, and it’s only been 2 or 3 weeks since you started dating, but you’re starting to crave his touch. It doesn’t help that when you try to initiate sex he blows you off with a muttered “ya gotta go’n a run tomorrow” or any other reason you should go to sleep instead.

Last night you finally spoke to him about it, refusing to let him leave the tent until he answers you. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable, and if he simply doesn’t want to have sex with you, you’ll stop initiating until he’s ready. When you told him that, he looked at you in sheer shock, not surprised shock, but a “that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard” shock.

“S’not that I don’t wanna, trust me, jus’ don’t want ya to think ya have to”

You talked for a bit longer, eventually he begrudgingly told you he’d never had sex before, which took you by surprise because how could a man like him not have been around the block. After that he quickly shut the conversation down, he was obviously embarrassed despite trying to hide the fact, so you let him and quickly fell asleep. But you got what you needed from it already.

The next morning you’re both going on a run, you’re sitting behind him with your arms around his torso, typical backpack stuff. The town you’re going to is a bit farther away than the group would usually go, about a 20 minute drive with no traffic and a throttle heavy redneck driving. Your head is resting against the back of his shoulder lost in thought about last nights conversation, then fading to something a little less pg. thoughts of hands travelling, clothes being shed, and lingering kisses.

Your thumb starts rubbing absent minded circles on Daryl’s stomach, a kiss pressed to his trapezius, then another above that, and another, the last just under his ear. His head turns to the side to try and look back at you briefly before focusing back on the road. You felt his body tense with each kiss, then again when you hands start moving from his stomach to his sides, slowly but firmly. You trail your hands down his thighs, then back to his torso, repeating until his body relaxes again. Your hands move from his front to his back, trailing up his spine and over his shoulders, massaging at the knots caused by his crossbow. It’s only when your hands travel south that he’s tensing up again, electricity shooting through him as your hand travel closer and closer to the ever growing tent in his jeans.

Your hands stop just inches from where he needs you most, lips hovering over his ear asking for permission. You can feel the shaky sigh leave him by the way his back moves under your chest, a nod of his head sends your hands moving immediately. Your fingers ghost over his lap, testing the waters, then wrap around his jeans softly, giving a small squeeze. The bike slowly drifts into the other lane though quickly corrected and it doesn’t take long for the bike to slow down and eventually come to a stop in the middle of the desolate road. Daryl practically falls off the bike once it’s parked, you go to get off too but don’t get past putting both your legs over to one side before Daryl’s hand are on your hips and his lips are on yours. You can’t help the gasp the escapes you, shocked by the boldness of the usually diffident man (when it comes to intimacy).

He steps between your knees until his chest is flush with yours, one of his arms snakes around your back to make sure you don’t fall while the other cups one side of your face. He usually lets you take control of the kiss but he wastes no time deepening it himself, the newfound dominance over this aspect of your relationship has your legs weak. You’ve never been more thankful to be sitting down in your life. Your legs wrap around his waist to pull him flush to you, his hand resting just above your ass tightens as he rolls his hips against you, swallowing the surprised moan that leaves immediately after. You break the kiss long enough to say,

“Who are you and what have you done with my Daryl?”

You tease, a smile playing on your lips before pushing him back and stepping off the bike, turning him around and starting to sink to your knees, but he grabs your arm,

“ ‘Nother time, need ya now”

5 simple words have you nearly buckling at the knees, he pulls you to stand back up and kisses over your neck, rushed and needy as his hands shakily explore your back and sides. Your hands wrap around his shirt and go to pull it over his head but he stops you, pulling away from your neck and looking in your eyes with a look you’ve never seen before, one you didn’t even think he was capable of until now. He doesn’t have to say anything before your letting his shirt go and kissing his cheek, bringing his hands to the hem of your own shirt. You don’t press the subject matter and he’s thankful for that, pulling your shirt over your head and laying it carefully over the bike handles so it doesn’t fall to the dirty road beneath you, the small gesture has your heart fluttering, but you don’t have much time to think it over before his hands are trailing down your bare torso and down to your ass, groping them while eyeing your tits before he speaks,

“Dunno what m’doin”

He admits nervously, it makes you smile how sweet he can be even with his hard on pressing into your stomach. You can feel his hands shaking slightly against your skin.

“Can’t do much with our pants on”

I joke, hoping it’ll make him less nervous and it does, a small chuckle leaving his lips and a playful slap to your ass before his hands are trailing to your front.

“Smartass”

He rasps, lips hovering over your shoulder as he works on your pants, watching you pull them and your panties down over the plush of your ass.

“Y’gotta use your hands first or else it’s gonna hurt”

“M’not that stupid”

He says, making you laugh softly, but it’s short lived when he pushes you to lean against his bike, his hand cupping between your legs. You can’t help the gasp that leaves you at the suddenness of the touch, though you’re not complaining, and you certainly can’t blame the 40 year old virgin for being a bit excited.

Two of his fingers slip between your folds, gathering your slick before flicking his fingers over your clit haphazardly. You wrap a gentle hand around his wrist and guide him slightly further up until he’s in the right place, he watches your head lul back slightly and the quiet moan that leaves your lips. He’s torn between watching your face, his hands, or biting at your neck, his eyes never staying in one place for long, flicking over every inch of your skin.

“S’all fer me, huh?”

He growls, voice low and laced with lust, the sound frequency of his voice rumbling through your body and straight to your core. His fingers dip to your entrance, watching your face as he pushes in a finger slowly, looking for any signs of discomfort. Daryl may be a virgin but he’s not stupid, he knows it can hurt if not dealt with properly, but the speed at which he’s going is torturously slow, you buck your hips with a soft whine in hopes he gets the idea and he does, he pistons his finger starting slow but speeding up slightly, though still slow.

“Feels good baby, keep it slow like this but curl ‘em up gently”

He listens intently, curling his finger up tentatively, testing the waters. When your head falls to his shoulder with a breathy groan he can’t fight the smirk that makes its way across his cheeks, watching your face as he continues to move his fingers, finding what you like and repeating, adding a second finger when you get quieter, then a third until he has to stand between your knees to keep them open.

You pull him into a searing kiss, moaning into his mouth while yours hands work on his belt buckle and palm him over his jeans. He sucks in a breath through his teeth at the touch, a groan leaving his lips involuntarily. He pulls his fingers from your core and locks eyes with you while he licks them clean (gif, lord help me). You have to physically restrain from rolling your eyes, the view shooting straight to your centre. His eyes never leave yours, even while he’s unzipping his pants and pulling himself out, landing heavy in his hand and using your left over arousal on his fingers as lube to stroke himself once, twice, before stepping towards you again.

“Y’ok little dove?”

His constant check for consent makes your stomach sick with butterflies. You nod fervently, muttering a “please” and “need it, need you”. It’s all he needs to wrap an arm around your back and push in slowly, he groans deeply as you surround him, warm and wet. It takes everything in him to not cum right then and there.

“So fuckin’ tight, squeezin’ me like a goddamn vice”

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, gasping at the stretch and kissing over his neck haphazardly. He stills for a moment until he feels you relax, giving a shallow thrust and watching for your reaction, when he sees no discomfort he pulls back to his tip, pushing in with a sharp thrust. Your head throws back and his lips immediately catch to the skin, but it’s short lived when a squeal leaves your lips and Daryl’s having to hold your body weight up from slipping off the other side of the bike. He situates you on the bike before letting his words run a million miles per second.

“Y’ok? Ya hurt? M’sorry didn’t mean ta’ was jus-“

You cut him off with a short laugh and a kiss, standing from the bike.

“I’m fine Dare”

You say through giggles at his overly worried tone. Your nails rake over his clothed chest softly before you turn around and rest your elbows on the bike seat, looking over your shoulder to look at him. He instantly gets the message and stands behind you, placing a kiss in the middle of your shoulders before sliding back in, a groan rumbling against your skin. He lets you ease up again before he’s repeating his earlier pace but a bit slower, you can already feel him twitch inside you and know he probably won’t last to long. Not that you mind, you expected it. You guide his hand between your legs and his fingers immediately start working your clit. You were already close from him prepping you, and the noises muffled against the skin of your shoulder could get you to the edge alone.

“I ain’t gonna last”

Daryl admits breathily, his hips already losing rhythm and his fingers sloppy. He angles his hips in a way that has your eyes rolling, a desperate moan of his name while your nails dig into the leather of his bike. Your walls tightening has him pulling out with a grunt, his hand leaving your clit and stroking himself for not even a second before he lets out a guttural moan and you feel the warm spurts of his cum paint your ass. He leans forwards over your back to kiss your shoulder, heavy breaths fogging your brain.

“You’re a fuckin Angel”

He breaths into your ear, hand returning to your bundle of nerves

“Need ya to come for me, pretty girl”

His voice is low and raspy, though laced with satisfaction. His fingers are working fast and messy so you place your hand over his and with your own fingers over his, silently show him to move them in small circles. The change has you gasping his name and grabbing at the bike again, his other hand pushes 2 fingers inside you and his lips leave kisses over your back.

“Doin so good fer me, just like that baby”

And that’s all you need to be pushed over the edge, legs shaking and you lean your full weight onto the bike. Daryl hums in approval against your back.

“Just like that, there’s my girl.”

His fingers slip from your core and trail soothingly over your sides and back, his other hand slowing down significantly as he helps you ride out your orgasm, only letting up when your moans raise in pitch and legs try to close around his hand.

When you finally stand from the bike and spin to face him, he places a doting kiss to your lips. A smile creeping up both of your faces.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

I love that you are writing for Dr. Abbott! 🩵

Can I pretty please request him with a younger reader like mid 20’s (or just the general idea of an age gap because I love me an old man) where he finds out he’s her emergency contact. He’s obviously older & he thinks she should pick someone her age instead in case something happens to him but he’s the only one she wants in every part of her life and reassures him. I hope that makes sense & isn’t too lame!

Not lame!! Loves an older man!!! They can be so sexyyyyy!!

Listed

Pairing: Dr Jack Abbott x MedStudent!Reader

Summary: Dr. Jack Abbott isn’t a man who lets his guard down easily. He’s precise. Composed. Rational. But when he finds out you — bright, mid-20s, and entirely too stubborn for your own good — listed him as your emergency contact, something in him unravels. Not because he doesn’t care. But because he cares too much.

He didn’t mean to see it.

You left your chart open on the counter when you got called away to Imaging, and Jack just needed the last lab values to sign off on your pre-op clearance.

He scrolled. Found what he needed. And then his eyes caught on something else.

Emergency Contact: Dr. Jack Abbott Relationship: Personal

His brow furrowed. Personal. Not “supervisor.” Not “colleague.” Just… personal.

He didn’t say anything right away. Didn’t bring it up that day, or the next, or even the one after that. But it stuck.

Because he knew he was older. Knew people talked. Knew that in some ways, he’d always have a foot out of the world you were still building for yourself. And part of him had convinced himself that was good. Safe.

But seeing his name there, in black and white, in a space reserved for the one person you trust when everything goes wrong—It scared the hell out of him.

He finally brought it up when you were sitting in his office after hours, half-eaten takeout between you, the city lights bleeding through the window.

You were cross-legged in his chair, scrolling through your phone and humming under your breath when he said, quietly—

“You should change your emergency contact.”

You blinked. “What?”

He kept his eyes on the food. “I saw it. On your chart. The other day.”

You tilted your head. “Okay… and?”

“I just think,” he said, voice too even, too careful, “you should pick someone closer to your age. Someone who’ll be around for a long time. Just in case.”

You stared at him. Slowly put your phone down.

“Jack.”

“I’m not saying it to be dramatic—”

“No, you’re saying it because you’re afraid,” you said, soft but sure. “That you’re not enough. Or not right. Because of the age difference. Because you think I should want someone who can run a marathon with me or go to brunch with my college friends.”

He didn’t deny it. Didn’t look at you.

You stood up, walked around the desk, and sat on the edge in front of him. Your voice was quieter now.

“You’re the one I call when I have a bad day. When I’m scared. When I don’t know if I can do this.”

He looked up at that, meeting your eyes.

You shrugged, small and honest. “Why wouldn’t I want the person I love to be the one who’s called if something happens to me?” The word love hit him like a sucker punch.

“I don’t care how old you are, Jack,” you said. “I care that you’re you.”

He swallowed. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yeah,” you said gently. “It is.”

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling like he’d been holding it in for days. Maybe he had.

You slid your hand into his, thumb brushing his knuckles. “You’re not temporary, Jack. You’re not just the for now part of my life. You’re the forever part.”

Silence.

Then—“I’m not going to live forever,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“No one does,” you replied. “But you’re here now. And that’s who I want.”

He looked at you for a long time after that. Like he was trying to find the cracks in your certainty. But there weren’t any. There never had been.

And finally, quietly—He squeezed your hand and didn’t let go.

[isaacsapphire]

The discussion about how a modern country that never deported anyone for any reason, where a tourist visa was license for permanent residency would work is one I genuinely would like to have (not on this post please though, it’s long enough!) but it’s also a worldbuilding exercise and brainstorming for a better world at best rather than an immediately actionable immigration policy. In the meantime , we live in a world where the vast majority of countries deport foreigners sometimes, especially when they are convicted of crimes.

Like, the tragic situations of permanent residents who arrived as children, do some crime, get caught and convicted, and hence deported to a country they don’t remember where they know nobody, can’t speak the language, and have nothing could be avoided in multiple ways on both ends, but obviously “just don’t do crimes especially when you in particular could ruin your life even more than most people” doesn’t cut it for everyone. Some type of auto-citizenship grant or legal exception from criminal deportation for folks who get legal residency young enough would probably patch that problem, but it would also be a minor legal change that doesn’t apply to many people, and would require a lot of political capital to achieve, so many not be considered worth it.

I’m open to being convinced that there’s exceptions or reasons why tourist visas ought to double as permanent residency permits and non citizen terrorism supporters ought to be allowed to stay in country, but I require convincing.

You try to attack and manipulate me with a common rhetorical tactic of claiming that your opponent holds a particular identity (“free speech champion” in this case) and claiming that they have jeopardized this identity by the actions or position you are trying to attack. I am rolling out of your attempted rhetorical hold like a fighter slipping off a grabbed shirt by denying that I am going to defend the identity you are trying to use to attack me.

Again, are you illiterate? I explicitly mentioned a middle aged felon deportee in my original post, and if you can’t figure out that’s what I’m referring to in the tag, I don’t see much point in continuing to interact with you as you’re at least one of stupid/disingenuous.

You’re on the wrong post if you don’t want to discuss the Democrats because this is a post in large part about the Democrats.

I didn’t mention specific cases because I didn’t want to discuss specific cases here, but the media discussion of deportation cases collectively. I am not interested in debating whether a specific mewmew was doing anything bad enough to warrant being deported/squished by a tank. As you believe that it is possible for student protesters to deserve being squashed by a tank, the question irt any specific student protester deportees/squashees becomes about the facts of their behavior and if it warranted the treatment received, which I am not interested in getting into here, rather than a debate about if it is possible for student protesters to deserve harsh treatment, since we agree on that.

Shall I take your silence for agreement about the Saudi issue?

The point is that the US has totally deported people because the communists wanted them deported/handed back.

Seeing a lot of “this little mewmew overstayed their visa by a few days and now they’re in ICE custody in unpleasant conditions awaiting deportation”

“this little mewmew was on a student visa and and engaged in political organizing in favor of terrorism/the elimination of allied country, now he’s being expelled from the country.”

“this little mewmew is middle-aged, came here as a child and speaks only English, had a green card despite having opportunity to get citizenship, plead guilty for a major crime, now they’ve been deported to a place where they don’t know anyone or speak the language”

“this little mewmew is an attractive wealthy White Canadian woman who is working in a company that sells a barely legal substance who thought the rules didn’t apply to her and found out that she was wrong” (seriously the THC aspect of the case is undersold)

And the whole thing seems like a show for people with the intellect and memory of goldfish.

The vast majority of these deportations would still be happening under any administration. The Trump administration is making a big deal about their deportations in part because that’s what their voters want. Scaring current illegal immigrants into “self-deportation”, scaring potential new immigrants into not coming into the United States, and discouraging colleges and employers from depending on visa-holders are additional benefits and explicitly desired by the people who voted for Trump.

All of this sound and fury seems likely to be mostly a smokescreen of the administration trying to make business as usual look like they’re Doing Something to their constituents. The squealing from the Lib/Left/Dems about the mewmews being deported is only helping the administration.

[bloobydabloob]

Do you think being aware of the different elements in art or just ordinary objects can make the process of actually making art difficult? I get that it's about balance and unity of it all, but being introduced to so many concepts early on feels like too much. Almost feels like learning to make art digitally for the first time -> introduced to all these neat gadgets but no idea how to use them or where

This is a crazy good point anon & very important. YES I think it makes it exponentially harder

It’s just like everything else though where learning to pick your battles is pertinent - knowledge is a foundational aspect of your beliefs and your art is based on your beliefs regardless of how you frame it. Accruing relevant (and irrelevant tbh) info is always going to help you navigate more complex & unique themes. Obviously not everyone is going to get anywhere with it but I think the whole thing is pretty rewarding it motivates everything I do in my entire life so I think it’s worth it. Definitely doesn’t even just apply in theme as well it sounds like you’re talking here about practical technique too which you’re 100% right about again. I think things that I find helpful to remember are

1 - Identifying a comprehensive goal in my action helps me to slow my roll & stop trying to pull from too many sources at once

2 - On the contrary it’s also good to remember that difficult, arduous & thought provoking task is important to art. It doesn’t have to be important to you but don’t be afraid of it

But the good thing about knowing things is knowing things helps you to know more things and knowing more things helps you to make better decisions. These kinds of worries about art are just smaller picture effigies of bigger problems about growing up, it is hard & it’s exceedingly normal to feel lost especially if you’re young. If art is at its core a representation of the life behind the creator then it’s just that. All things are present even incidentally through every single thing you create, which is also why being informed is important ! If you have something to say about something then then your art will. Your art exclusively exists through the people who view it & their tastes. “What kind of people would you want to discuss your work? Whose admiration would flatter you? What figures do you admire? What occupies most of your thoughts?” Are what I’d consider pretty big standard starting points they might give you on a sheet if you were to ask someone about beginning a series of focused work.

Also the thing about purposeful art compared to direct description (e.g. in this context art discussion) is that visual art exceeds writing in a lot of areas including ease of ambiguity. It really is hard to talk about the place obscurity has in art especially factoring in where people might differ on it. But it’s easy to let its importance bypass you, especially as a figurative artist. It’s also easy to make ambiguity sound like an area of study, when really it is like the antilabel of artistic components, ambiguity is black ! It defines itself as a lack of presence & not as its own entity, which in my opinion makes it a lot easier to approach lol. It finds itself comfortably where you apply nothing else

There are one million things that could be / have been said on this subject. I’m sure you would probably get more solid ideas on how to approach an issue like this from someone who has taken a different approach to art themselves, I’ve never read any book approaching art performing from a seminary perspective just as I’ve never been taught or schooled. I’m still going through the throes of asking myself these same things & I think I will be for my entire life. It’s easy to believe that consensus is a trophy gained for putting enough time into something when the truth is that there is no guaranteed finality to art. Be afraid of stagnancy, not ephemerality. There is a lot to be said even for oblivion in character & impulse, so really just make art regardless. Even if it never gets good at least you were doing something

I think you’re already on the right track if this is something you’re thinking about though if you ask me or at least you’re doing something similar to me lol. The amount of “things there are” is genuinely intimidating & especially as such an uninformed, sheltered person as I am making any real decisions for something as longterm as an artistic identity without any real connections to a qualified community seems impossible. Keep thinking like this & hunting yourself down I like to do everything I can that makes something happen about this. It’s not easy ! I don’t think it needs to be

[81pastrys]

The Other Verstappen

Part 2 / ?

Summary— She can’t escape her father for long when Max tells her he’s flying with them to Monaco

Warnings— Jos Verstappen ; horrible father ; fighting

A/N— this is just mediocre to what I have.

Series List

The next morning we wake up and dress ourselves, I temporarily put on my outfit from last night and go to my hotel room to freshen up before flying out. I dry off and Max calls.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He started the call. “He kept on and I had to give in, I’m so sorry.” I stay quiet, confused at the constant apologies.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“Dad is flying with us back to Monaco.” He finally admitted. I whisper profanities under my breath and just accept it. Lando is flying with us as well.

“Okay.” I sigh heavily. “I’m about to finish packing and I’ll be there in about an hour or so.”

“I’m so sorry.” He said again. I know if I tell him it’s fine he’ll go ape shit on me saying he knows how it isn’t. If I had another way out I’d take it, but flying with Max is my only way on such short notice.

The call ends and I toss my phone, finishing my packing duties. When I finish packing I meet with Lando in the lobby. “Ready to go?”

“No.” I say seriously. “Jos is flying with us.”

“What?” He asked shocked. “Why?”

“I don’t care anymore.” I sigh. “After all I’ve done to keep him away and I fucking can’t?” My eyes water and I push the thought away and put my luggage in the cab.

We get to the airport and I see them waiting for us to pull up. I take a deep breath and grab my luggage. I walk up to them and Lando joins shortly. We board the plane without any words exchanged. I know how this goes, he’s ignoring me until everyone’s phones are off.

“Sis I-“ Max said getting me alone while our dad exited for something.

“Don’t, I know how he is.” I say holding back all the emotion I want to express.

Our dad returns and I shoot a deadly look his way as I settle in to my seat next to Lando at a table. After takeoff he starts his bullshit.

“Could’ve done better than P3, your career is a joke.” He scoffed. “Look at your brother, he wins every other race!”

“Yeah I know.” I sigh heavily as if I don’t win the races my brother doesn’t. “Anything else disappointing you?”

“The way you don’t want to talk to your father.” He said faking his sincerity. “Blocking me on everything, so childish.” There’s the narcissism.

“Hand must’ve slipped, my bad.” I respond coldly. Lando is holding back a laugh at my dry responses as my dad continues scolding me. “What do you care?”

“You’re my baby girl, I can’t have the right to talk to you?” He threw at me.

“Considering every conversation is similar to this one, no I’d rather not talk to you.” I say seriously.

“Similar to what?” He asked. Arguing, fighting, getting degraded, you know things fathers say to their youngest daughter.

“You spewing hateful words to me, I’m sick of it.” I say the attitude coming through completely. “I’ve done my best to please you and all I get is criticism.”

“It obviously doesn’t help.” He scoffed. “Should’ve ended your career when you lost the karting championship.” He scoffed at me.

“Saying that won’t change anything.” I say as if it wasn’t obvious. “Sorry I can’t be your perfect little prodigy.”

“You’re just insufferable.” He said. “Always giving people attitude and being a bitch.” Something snapped in me and I slam my hands on the table, residing to the opposite side of the plane.

I curl up in the corner with a blanket and cry silently as they talk. Once their conversation dies out and my dad moves facing away from me, Lando sits next to me and pulls me into his lap. He toys with my hair and the tears stream slowly down my face.

I fall asleep in his lap and wake to the sound of him and Max talking over me. “He’s asleep.” Max whispered. Lando moves my hair from my face.

“He isn’t staying at your house is he?” Lando asked. I sit up and just lean my head on his shoulder.

“We haven’t discussed that but even if he doesn’t I want her to feel safer while he’s in town.” Max said.

“Where would I stay?” My voice was raspy and sleep ridden.

“With me.” Lando smiled kissing my head. Max returns to where he was sitting earlier and I just relax on Lando. He plays on his phone a bit and I watch.

Towards the end of the flight my dad walks to our seats and scoffs at me lying my head on Lando’s shoulder. “And you’re sleeping with the drivers?”

“No I moved her head so it didn’t hit the window.” Lando laughed. “She just woke back up.”

“I don’t believe it, I always knew she’d be a slut.” He remarked disappearing to the bathroom farther back on the plane.

We exit the plane and I immediately load my car and drive off quicker than they could blink. I can feel the eyes of my father rolling at my dramatic exit. I speed around and blare music.

Oh?

@widow-cevans @pandabiiissh @charlesgirl16 @angelluv16 @il0vereadingstuff @itznotsophia

[lecheconazucarrr]

CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS - CARLOS ALCARAZ

Summary : They had been inseparable since childhood—Carlos and her. Best friends. A duo that always found their way back to each other, no matter where life took them.

But as the years passed, their lives changed. Carlos became a star and she stayed behind, watching as he rose higher, as more people claimed him, as the space between them grew. Still, he always came back. But the truth was undeniable: They weren’t kids anymore.

Warnings : none ?

“We’re friends”

She had been saying it since she was eight years old. Since the first time her mother raised an eyebrow at the way she and Carlos gravitated toward each other at every family gathering. Since her best friends in school teased her when he slung an arm around her shoulder, his fingers idly playing with the strands of her hair. Since the first time she realized that the way her heart stuttered when he laughed wasn’t normal.But none of that mattered, because they were just friends.

And maybe if she said it enough times, it would always be true…

She met Carlos the way you meet someone who’s supposed to change your life—by accident. It was on the clay courts of their childhood, two kids too small for their oversized rackets, trying to play a game neither of them fully understood. She had been there with her older brother, watching as he hit with his coach, when she spotted another boy, alone at the next court, swinging at imaginary balls, she was curious.

“You don’t have anyone to play with?” she had asked, standing just outside the fence.

The boy—Carlos, she later learned—looked up, his face flushed from the heat.

“Not today,” he admitted, dropping his racket to his side.

“I can play with you.” She said.

Carlos blinked at her, then grinned. “You any good?”

She puffed out her chest, trying to look confident even though she wasn’t sure herself. “Better than you.” Carlos laughed big and loud, the kind of laugh that made her want to hear it again and picked up a ball.“We’ll see about that.” That was the start of everything.

Carlos became a permanent fixture in her life after that day. She didn’t remember when, exactly, but soon, he was at her house as often as he was at his own, feet kicked up on her couch, raiding her fridge like he belonged there. They spent summers biking to the courts, challenging each other to best-of-three sets under the blistering sun, collapsing into the grass when they were too exhausted to move.

“You cheat,” she had accused once, lying flat on her back, arms spread wide.

Carlos, beside her, let out a breathless laugh. “I don’t cheat. I’m just better than you.”

“Liar!” She yelled. He turned his head to look at her, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You love me anyway.” She had rolled her eyes, shoving his shoulder. “Shut up.”

But later that night, staring at her ceiling in the dark, she thought about what he had said. She didn’t love him, obviously. They were just kids. Just friends. But she did know one thing: Carlos was hers. And back then, that was enough…

Then they grew up. And things got complicated. At first, it was subtle changes so small she almost didn’t notice. Carlos started training more, his talent turning from a childhood dream into something real. The wins came faster, the tournaments bigger. He spent less time in Murcia, more time traveling, always leaving, always coming back. And she tried not to care. But the first time he left for a full summer his longest stretch away from home yet she had felt the absence like an ache in her chest. When he finally returned, sun-kissed and grinning, she had expected things to go back to normal. They didn’t. Because suddenly, Carlos wasn’t just Carlos anymore. He was Carlos Alcaraz. The golden boy. The rising star. The one everyone wanted to know.

And for the first time in their lives, she wasn’t sure if she was enough…

“What’s wrong with you?” Carlos had asked one night, the two of them lying on his childhood bed, staring at the ceiling like they used to when they were kids.

“Nothing,” she had said.

“Liar.” She sighed, rolling onto her side to face him. He looked different these days—more mature, sharper around the edges, but still Carlos, still hers.

“You’re always gone,” she admitted quietly. “It’s weird. We used to hang out together every time but now we barely talk through the phone”.

Carlos frowned, turning his head to meet her eyes. “I always come back, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” she murmured. “But for how long?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then, softly: “As long as you want me to.” She wanted to believe him. But deep down, she knew that nothing gold can stay.

Of course Carlos always came back. But it was never for long. As the years passed, his name became bigger, his wins more frequent. The world started to claim him in ways she never could. And even though he always texted, always called, always found his way back to her when the tour was over, something had shifted. Because for the first time in her life, she realized that she wasn’t the center of his world anymore. And she didn’t know how to handle that. She told herself she was being dramatic. That the hollow feeling in her chest when he talked about new friends, new cities, new experiences was just change, nothing more. That it was normal for things to evolve, for childhood friendships to stretch and bend with time. But then there were moments small, fleeting moments that made her question everything. Like when he came back from New York after his first Grand Slam win, and instead of celebrating, he found her first. Showed up at her apartment unannounced, grinning like a kid, eyes still bright from the adrenaline of victory.

“You did it,” she had whispered, staring at him in awe, pride swelling in her chest.

“We did it,” Carlos corrected, pulling her into a hug so tight it knocked the air out of her lungs.

She wanted to stay in that moment forever. But forever never lasted with him. Because the next morning, when she woke up, he was gone again. She was used to missing Carlos but she wasn’t used to sharing him. And suddenly, it felt like she was sharing him with everyone. With the press, with the fans, with beautiful girls who draped themselves over him in pictures, their hands lingering on his arm like they had a right to be there. And maybe they did. After all, it wasn’t like he was hers. Not really. But God, did it feel that way sometimes. Especially when he would come back to Murcia, back to her, and act like nothing had changed. Like they were still kids, like she was still the only one who really knew him. Like she was special. And she let herself believe it…

She always thought that The parties were the kind of place where people lost themselves. Laughter and music pulsed through the walls, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and something bitter in red plastic cups. Outside, the infinity pool shimmered under the soft glow of garden lights, the surface occasionally disrupted by splashes and careless laughter. She never liked these parties. Too many strangers. Too many people pretending to be something they weren’t. But Carlos had asked her to come.“It’s just one night,” he’d said, grinning like he always did when he wanted something. “It’s been forever since we’ve gone out together.” And that was the thing about Carlos—he made it sound so simple. Like nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t spent the past year chasing titles in places she’d only ever seen on a map. Like she hadn’t been waiting for him to come home, only to realize that home wasn’t the same anymore. She should have said no. But she didn’t. Because when it came to Carlos, she never did.

At first, the party wasn’t so bad. She stuck to the edges of the party, sipping on something too sweet, listening to half-conversations while Carlos moved through the crowd like he belonged there. Which, of course, he did. She watched as he laughed, clapped a friend on the back, let some stranger take a picture with him like it was nothing. She used to think he belonged to her. Now, she knew better. But it was fine. She was fine. Until she saw her. She wasn’t sure what made her look, maybe it was instinct, the way her body was always attuned to Carlos even when she tried to pretend it wasn’t. Or maybe it was the way the energy in the room shifted, just slightly, the way people started paying attention. Either way, the second she saw them (him) everything else faded. Carlos was standing near the bar, head tilted toward a girl who was laughing, one hand resting lightly on his arm.

She was gorgeous, the kind of gorgeous that didn’t require effort. Tall, dark hair cascading in effortless waves, lips painted a perfect shade of red. She leaned in close when she spoke, her fingers grazing his wrist as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile slow and knowing. And Carlos—he was letting her. No, worse. He was smiling back.

Not the casual, distracted grin he threw at fans, or the playful smirk he gave when he was being cocky. This was different. Softer. Slower.

Like he meant it. And something inside her cracked. It wasn’t jealousy. At least, that’s what she told herself. It wasn’t like she had a right to be jealous. Carlos had never been hers. Not in the way that mattered. But then why did it feel like her lungs had collapsed? Why did it feel like someone had reached inside her chest and squeezed? She tore her gaze away, forcing her hands to steady around her drink.

“You good?”

She blinked, startled, turning to see one of their mutual friends watching her with a knowing look. “Yeah,” she lied, her voice steady. “Just hot in here, I need air.”

The friend didn’t look convinced, but didn’t push. And she took that as her cue to leave.

The night air hit her skin like a slap. She welcomed it. Welcomed the sharp cold, the silence, the way she could finally breathe. She didn’t know how long she stood there, staring out at the city lights, gripping the edge of the balcony like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her heart was still racing. Which was stupid. Because this wasn’t new. Carlos was Carlos. He had always been magnetic, always drawn attention, always had people falling at his feet. She had seen it before. She had ignored it before. So why did tonight feel different? Why did it feel like something irreversible had just happened? Why did it feel like she was losing something she never even had?

“There you are.” His voice was soft, familiar.

She stiffened.

For a second, she considered pretending she hadn’t heard him. But it was Carlos. And ignoring him had never been an option. She exhaled, turning slowly to face him. He was standing in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, expression unreadable.

“You disappeared,” he said, stepping closer.

She shrugged. “Needed some air.”

Carlos frowned, his eyes scanning her face like he could see something she didn’t want him to. “You sure you’re okay?”

God, she hated him.

Hated how easily he could see through her. Hated how much he still cared. Hated how badly she wanted him to.

“I’m fine, Carlos.” She said. He didn’t look convinced. But he didn’t push. And maybe that was the worst part, because a long time ago, he would have. And now? Now, he just stood there, watching her like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. And she? She just smiled. Because if there was one thing she had learned from being Carlos Alcaraz’s best friend, it was this— If she wanted to survive, she had to pretend.

Even when it hurt,

especially when it hurt.

N/A : it’s my very first time writing something on this app lmaooo, so be kind <3

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

https://www.tumblr.com/zzbubblegumbitchzz/779199661988855808/idk-how-you-feel-but-i-think-quinn-can-be-a-full

Maybe not to the extreme degree of continuing dom/sub play in the public eye but he’s always been in control. Growing up? Oldest. Now? He’s the captain. The leader. Frequently referred to as the best dman in the league. He feeds off power and having it over his partner drives him crazy.

bro i rambled hard

no because agree. hard agree actually and a lot of people forget this or don’t know it, the sub has all the control and i mean that.

so with the whole in public thing, it’s very toned down. very soft dom outside in the world or around people. he knows his people can very obviously see the slightest bit of it but that’s it. Quinn did not consent to them seeing that, just like did not consent to seeing that. you know what i mean?

truthfully? it’s almost instant. i feel like Quinn’s the kinda guy to be open with his partner. he’s open, especially with this kind of thing. you’re open, willing, ready to explore that. so yeah, i think it starts slow and more or so in the bedroom.

when you’ve adjusted to him as a dominant sexually, maybe you just start auto doing things outside that bedroom.

you’re “quinny can you help me?” and he’s running in just to brush your hair or “quinny can you get me a soda?” and his immediate reaction “did you finish your water bottle?” and when you say no. “well that’s your answer. finish your water first.”

it’s kinda a switch that flips for you, damn he’s bossy but i like it. i don’t have to think? he does it for my own good? okay.

quinn sees that glimmer in your eye when he kinda corrects your behavior. makes himself a mental note to chat later, cause that’s exactly what he was hoping for.

he’s big into rules. there’s not that many tbh but they’re important, especially to him and especially while he’s gone. big into a sticker chart too, it’s an easy way for him to see what you’ve remembered and what you needed more direction with.

i think he’d be into collaring too, he’s the kinda guy who has multiple types. the public collar that’s more or less a necklace, the bedroom collar, and then the everyday around the house kinda collar. and he has no shame tugging any of them when he wants you to act right.

he has the look. ya know what i mean? i’m sorry i think he wants you kinda bratty sometimes, i think he likes brat taming. he very obviously loves when his girl is so good and listens. but sometimes when he gets home from a bad game, he just wants to take it out on you and his favorite way is when you get mouthy and he corrects that.

now in public? he’s quiet about it, he’ll grip your hand a little tighter or he’ll send you a quick text. just something easy, something unknowing to everyone else.

he hates repeating himself so it’s a one and done. he’s not a three strike you’re out kinda guy (except at the very beginning when you’re both adjusting)

idk man i go on and on about this

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

At what age do you think the Wales should start having George doing more serious events and joining them on tour? I wonder if there waiting for Charlotte to be older so George won't be alone.

To be honest, I think they’re already doing this, just in a private/personal capacity. Obviously not the tours, but the volunteering and charity visits that seem to make up the backbone of William’s vision for the monarchy.

William has spoken often of how Diana would take him on private visits to some of her charities and the homeless shelter, and the fondness he speaks of those times with makes me think he’s doing that with his children. Plus the easy way that the kids all jumped in to help Kate when she took them to the baby center that one time, they’ve done that before. IMO, that’s the right way to do it - get the kids comfortable with communities, teach them how to focus on people, teach them small talk and acts of service, and then bring in cameras later when they won’t be so easily distracted.

And we know from leaks that the Waleses go to regional activities/events all the time, which is “training” in its own way. Plus the Christmas walkabouts too.

So for me, it’s really more of the diplomatic work that the kids haven’t done, or been exposed to - like the audiences or the church services or the state dinners, and they may be too young for that. But I do bet they’re meeting people. We just don’t hear about it because the cameras aren’t included.

Now for tours and travel - the kids aren’t going on trips until Louis can. If you look at what William and Kate have done in the past, they will only bring all the kids or just one kid. (Three exceptions: the first Christmas walk in 2019, Wimbledon 2023, and the coronation concert.) The messaging there is pretty clear: they won’t exclude Louis just because he’s 2 years younger or because he’s not as important to the future monarchy as George and Charlotte.

(And I do think that’s the right move too. Obviously it’s more likely that of the three, Louis may not have the royal career but he still needs to be included. Othering him is how we get Harry and lord knows we don’t need any more of that.)

[twopoppies]

hi Gina,

I'm already sick of myself typing this but I just read some of your anons from earlier and started thinking about holivia/full stop/jeff & harry/stunt or no stunt for HS4. Because holivia was never a stunt for Harry's benefit, was it? I keep thinking of it as badly executed PR for Harry but was it simply mediocre promo for DWD? It wouldn't surprise me if all of it came from a PR team that couldn't care less about Harry's image, fully focused on promoting the movie. And considering the ties between DWD and the Azoffs, if we assume Jeff got him that role and approved the marketing strategy? One that made Harry look terrible and lasted for that long? I would assume he felt used and lost a lot of trust. It just seems much more like full on movie marketing than any kind of personal PR. And if Harry was brought into it unknowing, that's a huge betrayal. I'm sure that's how things work most of the time and signed artists are probably treated more like assets, but everyone has a limit.

Or, the person who worked really hard to not obsess over what people think about him was fine with his reputation being thrown under the bus for one mediocre movie. Because it makes no sense to me that this was Harry's stunt in any way. Maybe he thought that's what it took to start his acting career? Maybe his team did? Maybe it is?

Or it was purely for DWD/Olivia's benefit.

I think we’re all guessing when it comes to this stuff because it’s probably very layered and complex.

I don’t know if you were here before it started, but most of the fandom was really excited for him to take that role. She was coming off directing Booksmart which was very well-received. She’d gotten the rights to a highly sought-after screenplay that seemed very timely. He would be working with a female director who seemed to be on the right side of a lot of political issues. And the rest of the cast were exciting names.

So, on paper, it looked great. It’s no wonder we missed all the signs.

In retrospect, it seems that Olivia was either in over her head or didn’t give a shit (or both) because no one seemed happy on that set and the film was huge fucking disaster. Additionally, she seemed to care more about her own personal promo (adding herself into the film, taking scenes from other characters to give them to herself, making her PR relationship the primary focus of every day, etc.) and in the end, the movie and the actors and crew suffered because of it.

Beyond this, the Azoffs seemed to have their fingers in every part of this pie. They have connections to the movie studio, the original authors of the script, the lead actor, and seemingly, Olivia herself. They used Harry and his fandom as a major selling point (offering chances to win tour tickets for buying movie tickets, Harry’s entire team/friends/family plus other FullStop artists—Lizzo—to promote the film, etc.), but at the same time, ignored how all of this was negatively affecting Harry’s image and career.

Obviously, Harry signed on to the film and PR relationship. And it’s possible it was an exchange for being allowed to make My Policeman. I’m not saying he had no responsibility in this mess. But if whoever was in charge of it was in Harry’s corner, Olivia’s behavior would have been nipped in the bud. Or at least the negative effects it was having on Harry would have been mitigated in some way.

So it very much felt like the primary concern of Harry’s team was the film/Warner Bros’ investment, Olivia, and the Azoff’s own financial or personal investments.

I don’t know if they thought Harry wouldn’t notice or that he was so well-liked that none of it would matter. But I have a hard time believing Jeff/Irving had the wool pulled over their eyes by Olivia and her team and there was nothing they could do to get H out of the situation he was in.

And given the seeming shift in energy between H and Jeff toward the end of that debacle, I haven’t seen anything yet that makes me think Harry was happy with the situation.

[sierrale8ne]

Didn’t pboogerswbb say she been laughing and knew there was something off about her and know yall want to act like the maximum betrayal happened, like it does suck and she’s sad and crazy for doing all that but it’s not that deep and it’s social media, online “friends” like yallllll be serioussss

ok this is the last thing i’m saying about this. y’all either choose to be fucking slow or you lack basic empathy and compassion for other people.

first, laughing about things that have happened to you is a coping mechanism. like, any psychology 101 textbook will tell you that. second, lila saying that she had a feeling about her is lila speaking for lila. not me or alira or na or literally anyone but her self. that STILL doesn’t mean that she isn’t allowed to feel a certain way about everything.

third, this is not a friendship that i took lightly. other than ke, rosie was the one of the first people i started to see as a friend on here SEVEN MONTHS AGO. we aren’t just a group of friends who geek out over basketball and lust over paige and blah blah blah. we talk about our lives and things that we are all going through, it’s much deeper than what you seem to think.

obviously, internet safety is important. these girls don’t know what city i live in or where i go to school. but they don’t force that information out of me either, and we certainly did not do that with rosie. she CHOSE to lie. CHOSE to make up another life and everything that came with catfishing. that is wrong. we all have a right to feel shitty about that.

maybe keeping it off here was the best thing to do because all day, you guys have been not only invalidating our feelings but being completely insensitive about everything. we found out THIS MORNING.

again, this is the last i’m talking about this, and anyone who continues with the nagging and ignorant comments is getting blocked, i’m fucking over it.

[jianghushenanigans]

In defence of Shan Gudao

I can hear what you’re thinking. “Shan Gudao??? What the fuck is wrong with you???”

In my defence. Well. People defend the actions of villains who have done much worse with less valid motivations.

Look at him. He's crying. (Granted he's about to throw his son in a murder pit but still.)

TO CLARIFY I am not denying that Shan Gudao did things that are bad. He’s in general not a great guy. I’m just saying that a lot of what he does is reasonably understandable given everything that happens to him. This is very tongue-in-cheek and should only be taken as seriously as you want to. But also I’d kill for more fics/meta/etc that dealt with Shan Gudao as a 3D character with complex motivations (Which he can be!!!!! If you try hard enough!!!!!)

Warning: here be spoilers. (Obviously)

Things that Shan Gudao does that are Not Good: abandoning his preganant not-girlfriend; bullying a disabled child; joining the evil foreigners; not dying even when he said he did; killing his shifu; and throwing his son in a murder pit.

Abandoning his not-girlfriend and unborn child

To begin: casual sex is not a crime. Sleeping with the girl who won’t stop following you around and is clearly has a crush on you a bit of a dick move, but the first thing Shan Gudao actually says to He Xiaolan, as per the flash back, is something along the lines of ‘you’re bad at martial arts and should go home’. He’s not her keeper, he’s not her babysitter, he’s not her lover. She falls in love with him – because she’s into negging, apparently – but they don’t actually have any sort of two-sided relationship going on at any point.

(And honestly who can blame her for falling in love. The man looks like this. He should never have grown that moustache.)

He Xiaolan returned to Tianji Manor ‘heartbroken and pregnant’. But, notably, she didn’t actually tell Shan Gudao about Fang Duobing. He didn’t know his son even existed. This screams, ‘he finally agreed to sleep with her after she kept following him around, and when he still didn’t return her feelings after that she realised it was over and finally gave up’. He didn’t abandon her: she left him. If she left him because he didn’t return her feelings, this… isn’t really his fault? The most he could be blamed for is not communicating his feelings but honestly we don’t get to see much of them at all and what we do hear about them suggests that He Xiaolan was the one doing the chasing and he wasn’t encouraging her.

Sidebar: I’m aro + ace and the idea of blaming Shan Gudao for not returning He Xiaolan’s feelings makes me feel kinda ill. To clarify I am not blaming He Xiaolan in this situation either. It’s fucky for everyone involved.

Also, Shan Gudao did not grow up with healthy relationships to model. We don’t know much about his upbringing other than that he was living on the streets until he was around 12 or 15 or however the timeline works when Qi Mushan found Li Xiangyi, and even if we did know about that, he doesn’t remember it. The only ‘romantic’ relationship he has actually ever seen is whatever the hell was going on between Qi Mushan and Qin Po. He might not have even recognised that He Xiaolan actually had romantic feelings about him, because his only example was a couple who used their two disciples as a way of fighting each other.

And finally regarding this point: eight years after Fang Duobing is born, when Shan Gudao finds out that he does in fact have a son, he wants to take him with him. This is not the move of someone who willingly abandoned his pregnant not-girlfriend. Obviously he does change his mind when he actually meets Fang Duobing, which leads us to…

Bullying his disabled eight year old son

Yeah this one’s pretty indefensible, other than the fact that Shan Gudao never had a father/uncle/shifu/parental figure who ever said anything nice to him either so he didn’t really know any better. This is a reason but not a justification. Stop being an arsehole to the child.

Joining Feng Qing and the Nanyin rebels and attempting to take the throne

Picture, for a moment, that you woke up with no memories in some guy’s house, and he says he’s your shifu now, and this 5 year old who says you’re his older brother. And then your shifu begins training you and it’s not only immediately obvious that this 5 year old is better than you at martial arts, but also your shifu does not like you and does not want you in his house and only took you in because of this child who he thinks is the best thing that ever happened to him. And you grow up and this child continues to show you up in every way and gets lots of praise for it and your shifu thinks you’re such a burden to train he gives you to his wife so they can use the children as a way to compete with each other.

And then you leave home and some guy sees this token which is literally the only thing you own that you had with you when you woke up with no memories, and says ‘You’re important. You’re the person we’ve been looking for all this time. We want you with us. You deserve the world’.

Like, I’m sorry. Who wouldn’t say yes in this situation? Shan Gudao, neglected and ignored and alone in the jianghu, was ripe to be groomed for this sort of thing. Why wouldn’t he get swept up in the daze of finally being someone that mattered to someone other than a child?

As far as literally everyone other than his shifu and shiniang are aware, Feng Qing is telling him the truth. But because they didn’t bother to tell even Li Xiangyi about this, let alone the other boy they didn’t even want, there was literally no way anyone could have known any better.

And the truth is, the descendant of Consort Xuan/Nanyin heir did have a right to the throne by blood in a way that the present Emperor of Da Xi very much did not. And how would Nanyin get the throne back if not by a coup? If the heroes had been the ‘true heirs’ to a throne then the coup would have been presented as a good thing to do. But I digress.

Joining Feng Qing and attempting to claim the throne he was led to believe was rightfully his actually makes sense given everything we know about Shan Gudao. They gave him a family and a home in a way that the dysfunctional shit going on on Yunyin Mountain never managed to provide.

Faking his own death

Technically not really a crime. Yeah Li Xiangyi got a bit sad about it but then we wouldn’t have got to see Cheng Yi weeping as he cradled his shixiong’s corpse in his arms. So really, we should all be thanking Shan Gudao for his totally normal and rational plans.

Killing his shifu

This is, technically, the worst crime that Shan Gudao actually commits. This being said. Looking at it from Shan Gudao’s point of view, Qi Mushan deserved it actually. I have already ranted about the fucked up way Qi Mushan and Qin Po raised their disciples and especially Shan Gudao and there’s no need to rehash all of it. But there are always a few extra things I have to say about Shan Gudao and his fuck-ass shifu.

At the end when Shan Gudao is, unsurprisingly, having a massive breakdown about how everything he has been told and made part of his personality for the past twenty years has all be a lie, Li Lianhua says ‘no one was ever competing with you’. And to an extent this is true. Li Xiangyi was not competing with him, from his point of view: they were just training together. But Qi Mushan and Qin Po were competing with him each other using him. For Li Xiangyi, the younger child, the always-victor, this had the effect of bolstering his pride and arrogance, but being young (and proud and arrogant) he wouldn’t necessarily have noticed anything else about it. For Shan Gudao, who was forced to always compete with this child he could never beat, who was the tool that meant Qin Po would never be able to win? No wonder this fucked him up immensely.

When Qin Po finally decides to bother telling Li Lianhua about his heritage, she looks at Shan Gudao and LAUGHS at him and says ‘do you really think you were a nobleman from Nanyin? You were just a little beggar Qi Mushan and I took from a group of beggars’. Like wow, I can’t believe you have delusions of grandeur despite the fact that everyone in a position to know anything about you either refused to tell you anything or genuinely believed what they told you to be true. You pathetic beggar child. You should have known your place.

He should have killed her also xoxox

Throwing Fang Duobing into his torture-dungeon-pit-thing

This was also reasonably uncalled for. He’s not a particularly great dad. Do we blame this on the fact that Fang Duobing, like everyone else, chose Li Xiangyi over Shan Gudao? (If so that’s definitely on Shan Gudao, no wonder he didn’t pick you, stop bullying children) Or do we blame this, once again, on his shifu and shiniang using him as a tool to fight each other with? I will choose the latter for the sake of making a point.

ONE FINAL NOTE

Shan Gudao was looking after Li Xiangxian and Li Xiangyi on the streets. This child in episode 30, who is buying food for Li Xiangyi,

is the same as this child in episode 39, who is Shan Gudao.

He’s not someone who was inherently incredibly selfish. He wouldn’t have wasted his own resources on taking care of an unrelated child otherwise. He got an illness that gave him a brain injury bad enough that he forgot his entire past, and then was raised in competition with Li Xiangyi, however much Li Xiangyi was unaware of it.

In conclusion: everything is Qi Mushan’s fault. Thank you for coming to my TED talk

[ninadove]

Do you have any tips for writing Felix? I've been writing a sentitwins fic where he's the main focus, and I keep wondering if I can get his characterisation right, like making him too mean or not mean enough, if that makes sense?

I do, actually!!! Thank you for giving me an opportunity to talk about the boy!!! 💜🦚

Obviously, this is just one way to write him — the Felix corner of the fandom is full of wonderfully talented people who all portray him a little differently. I highly recommend going through their works on AO3 to find the characterisation you resonate the most with (I have bookmarked my favourites here)!

The way I see it, Felix is intimidating to write not because he is a very complicated character, but because of the “delayed” way his real personality was introduced to us. Obviously, there’s the issue of his debut episode, which plants the seeds for a lot of his later actions (ex: he immediately tries to strike a deal with Hawkmoth, which we later understand was not to get the twin rings back, but rather to obtain the Peacock) while also introducing plot elements that don’t fit quite well with the later seasons (ex: Felix and Amelie’s obsession with the twin rings, which seems completely decorrelated from Adrien’s amoks at this point). I tend to think of S3 Felix as a first draft of the character we know today — it’s possible to retroactively find a watsonian explanation for many of his behaviours, including that unfortunate scene with Ladybug, but I don’t think it’s the most interesting episode to work from if you want to understand his character.

To me, things get really interesting (and consistent) starting from Gabriel Agreste (S4 E9). There, we get our first proper look at a few of Felix’s personality traits, namely:

He’s smart!

He sees knowledge as power. As such, he will do anything to uncover the secrets around him — while also keeping his own close to his chest.

He’s resilient to a frightening degree, which is best illustrated by his little akuma rejection speech: “I’m not afraid of your threats, and I don’t need your powers.” This is our first real hint that the adults in his life have subjected him to threats and manipulation before and that he’s had it. No one can get him to doubt himself anymore! Unfortunately, this is also what makes him so certain he is on the right path, all the way up to Emotion…

And that’s where it gets a little complicated: one of the most frequent complaints you’ll see about Felix is that his characterisation starting from Emotion is not consistent with what we saw in S3 and S4. “How can he say he loves Adrien, when he’s pushed him under the bus so many times?” “Why does he suddenly care about this girl he’s just met??” “Who’s to say he wouldn’t turn evil again at the drop of a hat???” (S6 please don’t)

But… all of this actually makes a lot of sense when you consider Felix as a child abuse survivor, something we don’t even brush on until Pretension and only fully dive into in Representation. His entire life, Felix has been punished for simply existing — so he’s not going to show his true colours to other characters, nor to us, the audience, from the get-go. He’s been consistently cut off from the people he loves the most, likely even made to hurt them on multiple occasions — so he’s not going to be openly warm and friendly, even when he actually cares. He has one objective, to build a better world for himself and Adrien, a world where he can show us who he truly is — but until then, he’s going to keep his personality where he keeps the brooch: close to his chest. He’s going to do whatever it takes to survive, including pushing his cousin/twin/brother under the bus (something that unfortunately happens a lot between siblings who grow up in abusive environments), with the confidence that this immediate damage won’t matter in the long run. That it will all be worth it in the end.

Because the Felix who is open about his secret identity from the get-go; who tells Kagami, and even Marinette, about the Sentilore so quickly; who flirts and sings and declares his love, both romantic and platonic, with all the flare of a peacock; who openly mocks his abusers; who draws hearts on windows; who gets all that nice golden/sun symbolism I love so much — that’s who Felix truly is! A child who braved the horrors, and is now free to show us all the passion for life he has in his little heart. Look how happy he was to offer this new world to Adrien! Look how head over heels he is for Kagami! Look how soft he is with Duusu! Look how tender his relationship with Amelie has been from the get-go, because she is the one character who’s always had his back!

Not that he can’t still be wary of other characters, of course — but if he can be part of the Miraculers now, and not back in Strikeback, it’s because of what he has secured for himself in the meantime.

The issue, of course, is The Secret. We haven’t really gotten a chance to see how Felix is faring in this new world, with the threat of Tomoe still looming over Kagami and the persistence of his estrangement with Adrien. It’s very possible he’ll be Marinette’s best ally, because hey, if anyone understands lying to protect Adrien, it’s him; but it’s equally possible he resents her for forcing him back into his lies. To say nothing of what happened in Werepapas! S6 could take Felix’s arc in a number of ways, which I’m both excited and scared about. In the meantime, we get to explore these paths ourselves!

TL;DR: To determine how mean your Felix should be, you first need to determine how safe it is for him to be kind. Never forget that he is starved for love and light and happiness and that he will do this at the first occasion:

The question is: will you let him? 🪶

[doodler16]

Saw the story about the people getting upset over Valentino getting zapped by a bug lamp and I want to say, yeah it’s super weird how much people get offended by stuff like that.

And just like that OP said with the Mouth-washing thing, I went to a convention recently where MULTIPLE artists had drawn Jimmy dressed as a pile of shit or drew him in a mocking manner and I got a laugh out of them and overheard people enjoying them too and agreeing that it was funny because since he is a rapist, its funny to draw him as shit/a shitty person.

But ohhhhh Lord when it comes to Valentino? People act like you stabbed them when they see him drawn as shit or getting like, stabbed.

And I am fully aware that you can like a character and not condone their actions obviously, but isn’t it strange that the highly different reactions in both fandoms to their rapist characters contrasts so highly?

I did a Hazbin cosplay group with some friends a while back (I was Nifty) and one gal was Valentino. But she lowkey got on my nerves because we would go through artist alley and all she did was complaaaaiinn about there being little Valentino merch or merch of him similar to the bug zapping thing (which I wish I saw at the convention we went too lmao). She even at one point basically began interrogating one artist accusing them of who knows what because they had characters like Lute as a charm but not Valentino which I started kinda cringing at. And it made it even MORE awkward because I noticed the artist had a Medusa tattoo on her wrist (if you don’t know, it’s something survivors of rape often get) and luckily our Adam steered us away from the table after we stood there for a bit too long.

So, I get what that OP was saying about how defensive some people get over Valentino, and also I think it’s hurtful to start accusing an artist about dumb things over not having merch of a character that most likely triggers them or having cathartic merch of that rapist character getting what they deserve or being drawn as shit.

Why can’t some of the Hazbin Hotel stans be more like the Mouth-washing fandom? Instead they be clutching their pearls and pissed when you say Valentino should die or draw him getting actual consequences.

There’s a major difference between Lute and Valentino: one is a rapist and the other is a trigger happy killing machine who is an Adam bootlicker 😂. I’d pick Lute any day over Valentino.

I blame Vivziepop and by extension Joel Perez for this happening. They are oddly defensive over (especially Vivziepop) Valentino and it’s a very sad hill to die on.

Adam cosplayer coming into the clutch! Any artists or writers who see this, keep making art of Valentino suffering. It’s fair game.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

omg if you’re writing for Dr. Abbot can I send a request inspired by Dr. King slipping in the blood but instead it’s the reader. But this time she doesn’t catch herself and lands on the floor. Obviously nothing serious but Abbot turns full protective doctor boyfriend mode, whisking her into a room, and assesses her for concussion, etc. Meanwhile she just insists he kiss her all better 🤭

Safety Net

main masterlist | the pitt masterlist

pairing: dr. jack abbott x female nurse!reader

rating: R for pitt type of blood

word count: 0.5k

warnings: blood, pitt type of violence

author’s note: thank you for the request anon! sorry it’s so short <3 also love that this guy's been in only three episodes yet we're all obsessed with him lol

It was a busy day in The Pitt. There had been a three-car pile-up accident not half a block away, and everyone involved had been sent here. There were in total eight people, not including the three who died on the way to the hospital. The whole ER was in a frenzy, everyone working double time to save the patients.

There was a pool of blood on the floor near the front desk that the cleaning crew hadn’t gotten a chance to clean up yet. 

You were rushing from one patient (the driver of the second car) to get to Robby and ask him a question. (Robby was working on a passenger from the third car.)

As you hurried down the hallways and turned the corner, you slipped and hit the ground, knocking the back of your head against the hard floor. The blood on the floor seeped through your scrubs and dampened your back.

“Fuck,” you grumbled.

“Y/n!” Jack exclaimed as he hurried over to help you up. “Babe, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled as he helped you stand up. He cupped your face in his hands and looked into your eyes.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and you nodded. “I’m not buying it.”

“Jack–”

“Don’t ‘Jack’ me, I’m getting you a room.”

“I really don’t need a room–”

“Sure you do, you just hit your head, you could have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion.”

Despite your best efforts to assure him you were fine, Jack hurried you away to an empty room so he could assess the situation and find out if you had a concussion.

“I’m gonna order you a CT scan,” he said nonchalantly. 

“I really don’t need a CT scan!” 

“I’m gonna get you a new pair of scrubs, you stay here,” he said.

“Now that I do need.”

When he came back with the scrubs, you quickly changed into the clean ones and tossed your old ones in a pile on the floor.

“Okay, let’s start with the basics,” he said. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

“That’s good. Follow my finger.” Left, right, up, and down, he moved his finger in front of your eyes. “Extraocular muscles seem to be intact.” He then took out his flashlight and looked at your eyes again. “Pupils are reactive to light, that’s good.”

“Jack… I’m fine,” you laughed a little.

“You don’t know that for sure; you could still have a concussion. Any nausea?”

“Nope.”

“Dizziness? Sensitivity to light?” 

“None of that, Jack.”

“Okay, good,” he breathed. For the first time since your fall, he seemed to be relieved. “You should still get the CT scan I ordered, just to be safe.”

“Well, I do have a bit of a headache,” you admitted. 

“What? Y/n, that’s not a good sign!”

“Just… kiss it better?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him. (That always made him weak in the knees, and you knew it.)

He sighed. You knew just how to calm him down. You placed your hands on his cheeks and smiled at him. 

“Please?” You pouted your lips dramatically, and he rolled his eyes a little before he leaned in and kissed you.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much,” you replied and kissed him again.

[majoryeager104]

Totally accurate Sanemi Shinazugawa Headcanons

I know this is random for me but imma do it anyways because I love him and he deserves the appreciation (and more)

Warnings: language, general silliness, mayhaps a bit of spoilers for the ending, but it’s pretty vague, just mentions of the infinity castle

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everyone and their mother says that there’s a huge softie underneath that rock hard muscular exterior

everyone and their mother is right

i think we’ve all seen the moments that prove that but I digress

He is in fact a sweetie-pie angel

An example?

can’t sleep without you

youre like a favorite stuffed animal

but better ofc

he barely sleeps (look at his eyes bro)

but when he does, it’s only cos his s/o is next to him 🥺

another thing

Totally Random but

I think he’s shy about eating in front of other ppl

(I’m projecting)

bro will not eat if there’s anyone else around

he scarfs his food down like a shark and while back at home as a kid it wasn’t that much of an issue

he does in fact notice the weird looks people give him

so he eats alone

in fact when you started dating you had to fight tooth and nail to get him to take you out to eat, or just have breakfast with you, or just let you make him something after he got back from a mission

hes just a shy little guy 🥺👉👈

moving on

I’ve seen so many people make him really obsessively protective over a Hashira reader

and I just gotta say… ✨no✨

if he’s willing to date another hashira

Someone who could die any day

but is also one of the most powerful people in the demon slayer core

let alone the COUNTRY

if he falls in love with a hashira

its out of full certainty and trust that you’re coming home the next morning.

but, it does depend on the situation

if he feels that a mission you’re going on is a little too risky

he’ll either go along with you, or ask to take your place

BUT HED TELL YOU FIRST.

PLS GUYS

AND HE WOULDNT MAKE THAT MUCH OF A DEAL OUT OF IT EITHER

“Hey, why don’t you let me take that one”

yes or no

and then bam! Cos he respects you

even in the infinity castle

obviously he was worried and looking out for you

obviously he almost cried after it was all over and you were okay

but he was not out there following you around like ur a damsel in distress

now I’ve got that off my chest time for the most random but accurate Headcanon of all

he’s one of those freaks that has no reaction whatsoever to stubbing his toe

for once there’s no cursing or screaming from him

nah

but he did probably break the corner of the table

bye bye

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