#so just bc something might have been played a certain way at the time doesn’t mean things can’t change with added context that comes later

[yaminerua]

Frazer no-homo-ing people discussing TwoJamie by saying shit like the Doc and Jamie aren’t Like That, they only have eyes for the ladies is so funny considering modern who making damn clear that’s not strictly the case, at least not ‘anymore’. The more openly unabashedly queer modern depictions of the Doctor definitely make looking back at classic who fun bc it can change the context of things from how they were originally perceived or how they were originally meant to be perceived.

but it’s also funny bc like. Man. You played Jamie that way yourself with all the grabby clinging and a hand frequently braced against the Doctor’s chest. Also I keep seeing people making reference to somewhere that said some of that hammed up physical contact and closeness was entirely deliberate on their part so like xD. You inject a bit of ho-yay in for a laugh and you’re gonna get shippers. Yeah you might not have meant it to be read seriously but xD choices were made good sir.

[earthtooz]

x : AVOIDANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: falling for blade was not on your agenda, so naturally you decide to distance yourself. however, the last thing you'd predicted was blade being upset with the sudden space.

warnings: 2.3k wc, FLUFF, ooc!blade probably bc i'm still trying to figure it out, kafka meddles with the two of you, gn!stellaron hunter!reader who has a past lol, NOT PROOFREAD, idiots in love bc i love that trope, bad writing

a/n: thank you to the anon who gave me this idea :D much appreciated, i had a lot of fun with this one when my angstier fics were draining me af. i hope you enjoy, apologies if it's a little low quality, but it's my child <3

when you first joined the team of stellaron hunters, you didn’t expect to get much out of it, especially since the team looked so cold, calculating, mischievous, and unforgiving, greeting you with vicious smiles and muddy eyes. preemptively, you assumed the most you would receive is acquaintanceship.

however, time has proven you wrong, because on the contrary, you have found comfort, friendship, and stability in the form of this mismatched group.

you never expected to find love either.

but you did, and it might be the worst decision your heart has ever made.

“y/n, there you are. kafka and i are thinking about going out to lunch. want to join?” silver wolf’s voice interrupts your train of thought, disrupting your peace in your private spot amongst the gardens.

“oh, hi silver wolf,” you murmur, shutting your book after shoving in a bookmark. “who else is going?”

“kafka asked blade and he agreed.”

the genius hacker doesn’t notice the way you tense upon hearing a certain swordman’s name. instead, you play it cool by opening up your book again, scanning the pages in hopes of ignoring the racing of your heart.

“i think i’ll pass on this one. thank you though,” you mutter.

“really?” the silver-haired asks, popping her gum before shrugging. “whatever you say. i’m off!”

“bye!”

hearing her footsteps fade, you slump in your seat, your memories with blade hauntingly eminent in your mind. you don’t recall when you fell for him, or why exactly, all you have in your recollection is a series of moments that you look back fondly upon with a full heart, love slowly seeping in to you and causing your affections to grow to the size that they reside at now.

when you had realised, the love had already grown too big to deflate, and dejection struck moments after; a big bang of butterflies in your stomach that all disintegrated straight after.

how brutal- perhaps this was an indication that blade was rubbing off on you too much, and you need to cleanse yourself of his influence.

love, although fickle, was not something that you avidly rejected. despite having lived like a hunted deer, your experiences have been fleeting, building your delicate heart for a life of meeting, falling, then leaving when you least wanted to, needing to run before an arrow pierced you- and certainly not cupid’s one. 

but with blade, everything is different. there is no arrow to run from, not in the life that elio has foreseen for you. for the first time in your life, you can stop running away and try fall into the arms of love with little remorse.

it's just ironic that you fall into the arms of a man who should not be touched.

“y/n’s not coming with us today,” silver wolf reports after meeting up with the other two stellaron hunters.

“oh?” kafka hums, “usually y/n’s always willing to hangout, why’s that?”

“busy or something, i don’t know, i didn’t care to ask.”

the slight scrunch of displeasure in blade’s expression passes by the keen eyes of both kafka and silver wolf. if either of them had noticed then perhaps it would have been a topic of interest, but for the time being, the pair move on (faster than the third member), your unusual absence dismissed in favour of where to get food.

as the days turn into nights and elio issues more missions and mumbles more futures, blade feels as though he sees you less and less.

it’s not intuition more than it is you purposefully ignoring and evading blade in your everyday, though.

“good morning,” kafka’s voice greets when she walks in to the cafeteria, where you were eating breakfast alone. setting down your phone, you regard her with a mouth full of bread. “gross. at least swallow first.”

“screw off,” you murmur. “how did you sleep?”

“fine fine, i woke up in the wrong position though and my neck is killing me, but what about you? seems like you’ve been up a while.”

“i’ve been up since asscrack of dawn.” 

the purple-haired regards you with amusement. “why’s that?”

“body clock or whatever,” you lie, staring down at your glass of water.

“i see,” kafka hums half-heartedly, as if seeing right through you. “well, i’m going to get some coffee, i’ll be right back.”

“mk.”

you’re left on your own for only a few minutes, waiting patiently in silence for kafka to return. the morning is cool and pleasant, and the smell of rain is still heavy in the air as the morning dew lightens the atmosphere. the weather will surely get hotter as the day matures, but for now, you enjoy the gentle caress of sunlight on your back.

or rather- you were enjoying the gentle caress of the sun, but the methodicalness of it all is ruined when you spot a certain figure with dark, long hair beside kafka.

suddenly the last thing you know is peace and calm, and the abrupt, painful scraping of your chair against the floor symbolises that.

“going somewhere?” kafka asks.

picking up your scraps, you avoid blade’s gaze. “yeah! i- uh, realised that i have some documents to drop off for elio by twelve or whatever.”

“won't you stay to keep us company for breakfast,” the purple-haired tempts, “it feels like it’s been so long since we’ve spent some proper time together.”

“has it?” you laugh nervously and kafka easily picks up the pitchiness of your tone. “i’ll make it up soon, i promise, i’ve just been overflowed with things to do.”

“alright. you be off then. don’t work too hard.”

“i won’t. my head is remaining tight on my shoulders, don’t you worry!” you reassure before scrambling away, feeling like your legs could not be any slower as you retreat away from blade’s scrutinising gaze. when you round the corner, you sigh a breath of relief. 

it’s laughable and simultaneously admirable how dedicated you are about dodging every interaction possible, but for the record, you think you’re doing quite well. not that space was doing many favours for your heart, but persistence is key. 

whoever believed that distance makes the heart grow fonder just clearly didn’t try enough, because yours feels like it’s about to hammer out of your chest with how fast it is racing, and the sensation is equivalent to something like pain rather than fondness.

“i’m worried,” blade mutters, gaze lingering on where you’d just disappeared. “and why does y/n talk like i’m not right here?”

“aww, are you upset?” coos kafka, taking a seat. the swordsman mimics her.

“why wouldn’t i be? it feels like y/n has been ignoring me as of late.”

kafka hums thoughtfully, swirling her coffee cup around.

“do you know anything about that?”

“nup. nothing at all,” she answers, feigning ignorance to the many suspicions that are bubbling around in her mind. the last thing kafka is, is blind, your unusual behaviour has not bypassed her perceptive eye at all, but she believes she has uncovered the reasoning as to why; said reasoning being a certain swordsman.

the revelation is definitely interesting, and she might just be able to give the push you both need.

“y’know what, bladie? if it concerns you that much, i’d say you go check up on y/n later,” kafka suggests.

“why not you?”

“i’ll be busy, but i think some support in dire times is just what y/n needs.”

“okay. fine.”

when blade gathers the courage to check up on you, like kafka recommended, the time is nearing 5pm. the sun is beginning to cool, the animals are retreating into their nests, and the big, bad, intimidating stellaron hunter is roaming around the archives, where you’re situated to work, hoping to locate you.

it takes a few laps around to finally find your placement because you’re fast asleep, only identifiable to blade by the jacket you hung on the back of your chair.

the sight of you hunched over your desk over a multitude of forms and papers causes a wave of concern (however much he can feel) to wash over blade, and suddenly, he does something completely foreign to him: dote over someone.

gently lifting your jacket to cover your shoulders, he stills when you shift a little, your eyebrows furrowing in your sleep. deciding to leave you alone, all blade spares is one lasting look at your vulnerability before leaving. 

he wonders what it is that could be making you so frustrated. 

(if only he knew). 

a few days later, kafka confronts you about the suspicions that’s been creeping to the forefront of her mind.

“did you do something to piss a certain bladie off?” 

kafka’s saccharine voice is laced with mischief as she leans towards you, chin resting on the palm of her hand. she certainly does not miss the way you tense up at the mention of the swordsman’s name and her smirk widens when you shuffle away, subconsciously turning away, as if avoiding the subject.

“i can’t think of why i would have,” you murmur, crossing your arms. “why?”

“oh, nothing, he’s just been complaining and crying a lot recently.”

“he does that all the time.”

“so he does,” your fellow stellaron hunter hums. “except he’s mentioning your name a lot more nowadays.” 

you freeze. “what?”

“hm? did i say something peculiar?”

inhaling a deep breath, you steady yourself. you know what kafka wants out of you and you’re not going to give it to her despite how innocent and pretty she spins the web to look. after all these years together, you hope to have learnt a thing or two about how to avoid her snare.

“what is blade saying about me?” you quiz. 

she blinks at you. “why so curious if you haven’t done anything?” 

“can i not ask about something that involves my name? besides, he’s my friend, i want to know what he’s saying,” you lean against the back of the couch, trying to calm the involuntary shake in your legs. you despise that the slightest mention of blade can cause a bottomless pit to form in your stomach and it’s not because of how intimidating or threatening he is. 

no, it’s because you’ve fallen for him, hook, line, and centre.

and blade would have to die before you ever tell him.

“mostly just grumbles about wondering where you are,” kafka expands, waving her hands about to match her words. “he asked silver wolf and i if you’ve been talking to us and when we said ‘yes’, he looked pissed! when i asked why he was being a sourpuss, he just stormed off.”

“so temperamental, that man,” she sighs. then, she looks back at you with those half-lidded eyes that have always gotten her what she wants, and in this case, they’re answers. “so tell me, y/n, what did you do to our bladie to have him all riled up like this?”

“nothing. absolutely nothing.”

“are you sure?”

“positive.”

“positive?”

you avoid her curious gaze. “positive.”

“maybe i phrased the question wrong. has bladie done something to you instead?”

panic settles within you. “no,” you lie through your teeth. “he hasn’t.”

“so if i asked you why you left breakfast so abruptly that day, you wouldn’t say that it’s because of him?”

“i had work to do, kafka, you know how busy my job gets.”

“i know, i know,” she persists, “then why weren’t you in a hurry before blade arrived that morning?”

you don’t know how to refute that, letting silence speak volumes instead.

“and why did you skip out on lunch with silver wolf and i? was it because we also invited a certain someone?”

“okay! fine, you’ve got me. what do you want to know?” you explode, tossing your phone on the couch in frustration. 

“so it is about blade?” questions your coworker.

“yeah. it is.”

“what about him? did he do something to hurt you? you know he’s accidentally mean sometimes-”

“it’s not that, he’s nothing but a sweetheart.”

“so what’s the problem?”

“that is the problem! he’s just… he’s him.”

“is that bad?”

“for my heart, yes.”

“oh my- so you like him?”

you exhale exasperatedly, “don’t act like you haven’t already figured that out, kafka.”

the cheshire smile she then flashes sends shivers down your spine. for whatever reason, an oppressive feeling grows in your gut, resembling something like a warning.

“you’re right, i knew,” she flaunts. then, her gaze cuts to look behind you. “but i don’t think blade did.”

your heart lurches out of your chest with enough force to pull you off the couch and you stumble around to see that, lo and behold, blade was indeed standing in the hallway. the expression he wears tells you enough; he heard you, he knows.

kafka somehow sneaks her way out of the room, leaving you alone to deal with the face of rejection. it’s daunting being in the same space as him after so long, you almost forgot about the intimidating pressure that blade naturally exudes and projects in every space he enters.

“hi,” you start, looking away. 

he stalks over to you, footsteps soundless before stopping a feet in front of you. instead of saying something, the swordsman merely gazes down at you whilst you keep your eyes glued to the side.

“can you reject me already? the silence is kinda killing me,” you snap after a few seconds, crossing your arms protectively. 

instead of obeying to your request, blade does something completely unexpected; he very gently lifts your chin with his hand, and red eyes bore right into yours. is it odd to feel seen in your demise? because blade is looking- no, surveying you with such immense focus and clarity that your heart stills, frozen in position because it wants him to see the most picturesque part of you. 

(he sees it, but he wants to know more of you. the pretty, the ugly, the likeable, and the unwanted.)

“would you like to go on a date?” he asks.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[nats-revival]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨

pairing: nepo baby!business owner!ellie williams x afab!business owner!reader

tags: smut, fingering (r receiving), pet names/name calling?? (dirty girl, pretty, good girl, baby), slight praise??, god why is tagging so hard, mild language, unethical business practices??, thoughts are green, ellie lowk an asshole, but both reader and ellie are pretty harsh to eachother, maybe that’s it, bare with me if i forget something pls. 😭🙏

a/n: i wrote this directly on tumblr bc i did NAWT feel like pulling up google docs today saur the format might be a lil off. i was watching this show on netflix called ‘locked up’, and like an episode from season two is what inspired this!!! 😜 the show is good honestly it just drags on sometimes!!! ive actually never actually written smut any times before this (believe it or not hehe) anyways, let’s get into it!!!

P.S - DEDICATED TO @sweetysaccharine YAWP YAWP!!!! <333 HOPE U ENJOY POOKIEEEE

P.P.S - don’t look at the typos or i will find you (IM JOKING)

rumors traveled fast, and sometimes it wasn’t always good. for one, they could be infuriating. a company you’d been toe to toe with for.. quite some time had gotten a new ceo. some young girl. articles appeared online about some kinda nepotism scandal. the photo on the top of the article displayed a photo of the previous ceo — joel miller, and the new owner, ellie. they looked happy. but why were they accused of something as harmful as nepotism? long story short, joel turned his brother down for the position (even though he was the better option) so ellie could have it. favoritism of sorts. but god was she infuriating! her stupid, flashy displays of wealth (that probably didn’t even belong to her) made you so mad! and also, her arrogance and her constant need to compete with you was very infuriating aswell. you had influence, she had money. wouldn’t these things be considered as a double kill in some perfect world? yes. would you ever even consider working with someone like her? absolutely not. you couldn’t even stand being in the same vicinity as her whenever you two ended up at the same social events.

imagine that terrible, ugly feeling of anger that coursed hot through your veins once finding out she’d brought possibly one of the biggest clients you could’ve ever had. it was one thing for her to shove it in your face that she was wealthy but this? she’d completely overstepped. storming your way through the companies large building, you find yourself at her offices door knocking like a madwoman. “open the goddamn door, williams!” you yell as you attempt to open the door on your own. she doesn’t say anything, but you’re just almost certain she’s smirking or something. she opens the door with this.. look. it was weird. a perfect mixture of condescending, arrogance, and ‘i know what i did and i don’t regret it’. “are you insane?” “mm.. yeah. i guess so.” you laugh, dumbfounded by her. “how bout you come into my office for a seat and a drink?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “let’s handle this civilly, shall we? knowing you, i have the feeling that this could get real ugly.” she pushed open the door with that same condescending/arrogant smile. of course, reluctantly, you walk inside. maybe this could be resolved civilly.

the sound of some smooth music played. it sounded like micheal buble or something. she walks around her desk to pour you a glass of bourbon. she hands it to and you just hold it. “it’s not poisoned, see?” she says before taking a sip. you take a sip and of it before putting the glass on her desk. “so, i realized that.. i have something you want.” the something being that client. “why else would i be here? that was a really petty move and you know that.” she chuckled. “yknow, i could just.. refer them back to you.” initially, you’re in disbelief. ellie? being generous? no way. she must’ve completely lost it. “but! it comes with a price.” of course it does. nothing was free, not in this economy. you kept your expectations low for this very reason. you raise an eyebrow at her. “we could work together. become business partners.”

she turns her music up a little. she dances her way over to you, circling you a bit. “no chance, ellie. how could i ever work with someone like you?” she chuckled again. “why wouldn’t you work with ‘someone like me’? you have something that i want aswell.” “what?” “power. influence. however you may wanna word it. i admire that.” it had to be some sick joke. why would she wanna work with you? “shouldn’t all your daddys money be more than enough to keep you in a position of power?” you quarry, then crossing your arms. a part of you didn’t believe that she’d been the one asking you for help.

“just think about it. me, giving you money. you, drawing power hungry clients in with that pretty face of yours. we’d work together like yin and yang.” she proposed before taking another sip of the drink in her glass. that was her giving a go at an analogy. was it good? she didn’t know. did she care? not at all. “you bullshitting me, williams?” “not at all. all you gotta do.. is say ‘yes’. cmon.” she offers her hand, those pretty slender fingers and that tattoo that peeking from underneath that black button up shirt were just so.. enticing. you were in your head, just thinking. was this a good idea? could i trust her? she probably has bad intentions. but she was so tempting. this had to be one of the seven deadly sins or something.

she snaps infront of your face. “where’d you go?” she asks. “nowhere.” you respond quickly. “so, you taking the offer or not? or.. will i have to convince you?” she takes a step closer to you. temptation taints your brain.

you’re not in control of your thoughts anymore. ellie was.

her hand seeks solace on your waist. “shouldn’t finding business like this be considered illegal?” you whisper to her. “im not a law abiding woman. and quite frankly, i don’t give two shits.” maybe it wouldn’t be illegal if nobody knew. but all you thought about was her. how she smells. how she’s looking at you. how her hands feel on your body. you can’t stop yourself. your lips crash down onto hers. your fingers tangle in her auburn hair as the both of you kiss passionately. she brings you to her desk, knocking stuff over as she sat you on her desk.

glass shattered, pictures were knocked out of their frames, and her computer mouse was.. somewhere. your back arches into her touch as you let out a soft moan into her mouth. she takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth. in the competition of dominance between your tongues, she reigns supreme. her hands slide up your body and end up on your oxford button up shirt. she doesn’t unbutton it, she rips that shit open. “i’ll get you a new one.” she mumbled as the buttons from the shirt scatter across the room.

“you’d better. or else id have to come back here and get it by force.” “oh please, you’ll be back here for more reasons than a goddamn shirt.” she said as she peppers kisses down to your jawline, then your neck. “don’t leave any marks.” “but why?” “oh, i dunno, cause i don’t want anyone asking me who i had sex with?” “who gives a shit? your workers get paid to look the other way, don’t they?”

well, she makes a good point. and you can’t argue with a point as valid as that. she sinks her teeth into a sweet spot of your neck, making you moan out as she runs her tongue along the new mark. she sticks her tongue out again to run it all the way down to one of your boobs. the sensation makes you shiver. “wore this pretty bra for me, didntcha? you were just expecting this. you must’ve wanted me to touch you like this, didn’t you? dirty girl. must’ve been waiting for me to bend you over this table.” she rambled all while stripping you of your bra, then leaving soft kisses and licks across the valley of your breasts.

she takes her time, making you wait for it. she knew what she was doing to you, and she was going to make you wait. “ellie, you’re going soo slow! you know what i want.” you whine as she leaves kisses and bites all over your exposed skin. “tell me what you want or you’ll get nothing. tell me where you want me.” she whispered. “i want your fingers.” “where?” “you know where.” “tell me or you get nothing.” you hesitate for a moment before saying feebly. “in.. in my pussy..” “that’s a good girl.”

she smiles as she pushes her hands into your slacks. she could feel your wetness. “i got you this worked up, huh? who knew little miss perfect could get this wet over me, a ‘nepo baby’?” she teased with a cocky smile. she slowly slides your slacks and underwear all the way down to your ankles before she applies a delicious amount of pressure to your clit. you gasp, your hand wrapping around her wrist. “oh, you like that do you, huh? you want more? fucking beg for it. cmon.” she applies more pressure to your clit, rubbing small and soft circles as her fingers ghost your sopping entrance. “oh— please ellie, i need more. give me more.” “gonna take more than that, baby.” you whine when she suddenly takes all that pressure away from you.

you let out another whine as you attempt to rut against her hand. her free hand slaps your thigh as she shakes her head in disapproval. “none of that. keep still. you get nothing until you beg like a good girl.” “please, please. ill do anything. just please touch me.” she chuckles at you. she found it cute how you were so desperate to chase that pleasure. “god, you’re so desperate. you need it so.. goddamn bad, don’t you?” she lets out a grunt in the middle of her sentence as she suddenly plunged into your pussy.

as she moves her fingers, she groans at how wet her you were. first she starts with middle finger, then adding her ring finger. her long fingers are hitting that sweet spot in you. she was making you see stars. “listen to yourself. look at ‘er, she’s crying for me.” she coos as she speeds her pace. you moan out. “watch me, baby.” you slowly look down at her fingers plunging in and out of you. sounds of wet squelching fill your ears. you bite your lip and you toss your head back as you let out a moan. you grind yourself down onto her fingers, chasing that wonderful and blissful orgasm.

you felt a pressure building up in your stomach. your eyes were fluttering open and shut. everytime you looked away, she stopped. you made sure to not look away. once that pressure in your stomach felt like it was gonna release, your moans became more broken. “ellie! ellie— oh fuck! ellie! im gonna cum! don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you say between moans as you bring your hand back down to hold her wrist in place.

“oh yeah? gonna cum? let go for me. make a mess on my fingers. cmon. i know you can do it.” she said as she kept her pace at that same one that was making you see stars. she’d been rambling something to you, talking you through it as she watched you cum all over her fingers. she helps you ride out your orgasm, a slight tremble in your legs becoming more apparent.

“what do we say?” “thank you.” she smiled as she pulled her fingers out. the sudden loss makes you whine. she sucks her fingers clean and you watch as her tongue runs across the length of her fingers. “still being a tease, williams?” you ask as you look at her while she does it. “mm.. well no, i dont think so. just savouring how good you taste.” when she was finally satisfied, she drops her hands. “so, you finally ready to stop being so stubborn and take the deal?” “not a chance if it means we get to have sex like this.” you respond with a chuckle. “maybe you need to be fucked again, hm?” she ask with a smile.

needless to say, you’d went another time, and on the third you fucked ellie. eventually you come to some sort of agreement after you’d been laid on her leather sofa, naked and feeling like you were floating. the only question you had now is what the hell had you gotten into. “will this turn into a scandal?” you ask. “.. probably not if we keep this under wraps.” she responds as she puts her head in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to it. “plus, yknow i can just pay the media off right? they won’t say anything. not a peep.” she reassured as she smiled softly.

[mars-ipan]

God I feel you on this. There are so many avenues for people to get sucked into bullshit infighting too.

I s2g every time I engage with trans content my for you feed starts serving me a ton of discourse about intercommunity transandrophobia or w/e and like... if people are being weird about trans men that's worth talking about sometimes, but I get the impression there are corners of the trans community that are doing nothing but scream at each other in some pointless transmasc vs transfem war. Meanwhile I'm sitting here on TERF island, transfem people right beside me, hoping our HRT and shaky legal rights don't get nuked in the next 5 years 💀

I feel like a general online discourse rule should be that if you're putting more energy into fighting your own community/policing language/etc than fighting people that materially affect our lives, something's gone wrong and you're at high risk of radicalisation into bigotry. Or might already be there.

ghhrgh LITERALLY….. like .

from what i’ve seen a lot of this transandrophobia debate came up in response to seeing trans women talk about transmisogyny. my theory is that a portion of tme folks saw that people have been discussing transmisogyny and felt that they were having their unique experiences erased. which, like, look . i get it. erasure is something i’ve experienced kinda my whole life. i understand that it feels Bad to have your struggles downplayed. i had that same worry at first. BUT. we GOTTA be able to examine how your own fears and anxieties and biases may be coloring your perceptions!!! bc yes being trans does not make you immune to transmisogyny!! we live in a transmisogynistic world implicit bias is Going To Happen.

like. transmisogyny is a real thing that happens and disproportionately affects transfems. transmisogyny is not something non-transfem people experience unless they are falsely perceived to be transfem. it is a uniquely transfeminine experience coming from the intersection of being trans and female (or female-adjacent). it is not just a unique kind of transphobia, but rather the intentional combination of transphobia and misogyny.

is this to say that transmascs don’t experience their own unique kind of oppression? no! but it’s not an intersectional oppression and it shouldn’t be treated as such. also, the name of “transandrophobia” just gives off. a really uncomfortable energy. you’re not being oppressed because you’re male. you’re being oppressed because you’re trans. i don’t feel like we need to give this type of transphobia a name because it is just transphobia. similar to how misogynoir is a word but we don’t have a word for the specific type of oppression black men face because that’s just racism. just because transphobia impacts you in a certain way doesn’t mean it’s a special type of transphobia, and really why are we playing oppression olympics in the first place? we’re ALL hurting. can we just like… help each other out? can we stop accusing transfems of like…. deliberately trying to overshadow transmasc issues or whatever? and for the love of god if we have to argue can we STOP misgendering and degendering each other mid-argument.

like. at the end of the day this is all trivial shit because In Real Life we’re being targeted by horribly cruel legislation and social movements. it’s like we’re in a burning house and i’m watching my brother and sister argue over black mold. like yes that’s a problem but i think !!!! we should focus on putting out the fire !!!! like i live in texas. lawmakers have been trying to pass anti-trans bills here for ages, and a couple of them have gone through! i remember being sat down in gsa in my freshman year of high school and having the club sponsors tell us that if a bill that was up for ratification mandating that teachers out their students to their parents was passed that they would do everything in their power to keep us safe. i have to be careful about how i dress when i go to certain places. and i’m not even someone who’s transitioning medically— lord knows what kind of bullshit hurdles people on hrt have to go through to get it. and we’re arguing over what we want to call our oppression? we’re all facing transphobia at the end of the day can we PLEASE fix that instead of dividing ourselves into little easy-to-eliminate factions please and thank you

[i-never-forgot]

Thinking about Eliana getting a case of the zoomies quite some time after the events of TPR after they settled. (Possible minor spoilers ahead, proceed with caution. I am actively trying to avoid giving anything too obvious away tho.)

Thinking about how she’s diurnal double-time since she’s a daytime mammal but also part plant to a degree, so she gets confused as to why she keeps waking up in the middle of the night (not from nightmares as frequently, much to her and the others’ immense relief). She’s sleeping well for the first time in years, she wakes up in the morning feeling fully rested, and she’s no longer fatigued. So why does she rouse when the moon’s at its peak, wide awake, thrumming with energy she just CANT seem to suppress?

She ignores it at first. She tosses and turns and huffs under her breath as she tries her hardest to wrestle herself back to sleep. A lot of times she ends up completely unmaking her bed because of this. The others are puzzled as to why she seems to crabby and how it even happened.

Eventually she gives up. To avoid disturbing the others, she patters up the stairs to walk around the top of the bluff in an effort to tire herself back out. It helps, but it's not enough. One night she caves and just breaks out into a full sprint through the forest on top of the steppe. It works.

She gets into an almost nightly habit of doing this to banish the excess energy. She figures out a trail through the wounds around treasure town and back. She even goes through town once or twice when she’s sure all the shop keepers are asleep. It improves her sleep and mood immensely and the others relax a bit.

Dusknoir gets curious, of course.

So he waits up until she leaves, and he follows. He has to follow the noises into the woods until he’s able to observe her darting through the underbrush to her heart’s content, gleefully yipping as she darts to and fro (entirely subconsciously, he is certain, as she’s so particular about her dignity and pride around others). The dapples of moonlight peeking through the leafy boughs above their heads illuminate her pale fur, helping him keep track of her whereabouts as he keeps a watchful eye, just in case. He understands, now, what she had needed—and he’s exceedingly glad that she found an outlet.

He continues this for a while, and she doesn’t even realize it at first. He spent years perfecting his stealth, after all, and he’s glad to use it for something good for once (bc one never knows when Eliana Kouros might fall into trouble’s way, after all). He almost…enjoys it. Like it’s a game of its own, to keep to the shadows and stay hidden and out of sight. He gets an odd surge of excitement when she darts right past him without her even glancing his way.

It doesn’t last forever, though. On a full moon night he accidental drifts into moonbeams and his rings start to glow involuntarily—it’s been a while since he last moon-bathed, after all, and he should have anticipated that. Elaina’s startled, of course, lets out a sharp sound of shock bc she was near him and felt foolish for being so oblivious, as well as mortified that he’d caught her doing such a “silly” thing (as well as the fact that even though they’ve both healed, bad memories still have a mighty grip on one’s subconscious and instincts). She gets prickly and a little huffy, at first—tries to brush it off and act a bit haughty to deflect his evident amusement—but he doesn’t tease her about it.

He tentatively asks her if she’d like for him to join her.

She blinks and stares at him for a long time in perfect silence. A part of her resists the idea—old wounds still lingered, after all, and why would she ever volunteer to have Dusknoir of all Pokemon chase her? Hasn’t she had enough of that for one lifetime?

He starts to retract his offer, bashful and ashamed himself by prodding that old scar in a way he hadn’t even considered before speaking, but she interrupts him. “I haven’t played tag in a long time,” she murmurs wistfully.

So they learn to play cat and mouse. And they love it.

Eliana is startlingly quick on her feet now that she’s adapted to her body. She has the advantage of ducking under low bushes and hiding in narrow places like under logs or in tree hollows. But her giggles give her away—unmitigated delight and anticipation overpowers her will, and it alerts him to her general direction any time he gets close.

Dusknoir has the advantage of greater reach—and, to a certain extent, speed, because this ghost will absolutely use Shadow Sneak to cheat if he’s losing—simply because it infuriates Eliana and he finds no small amount of amusement in riling her up. Having her rant at him also helps him avoid her longer.

Their raucous, elated laughter wakes Grovyle and Celebi one night. They’re bemused and a touch perplexed by the whole affair, but they decide not to speak on it to preserve their austere companions’ egos.

(I imagine, if they ever brought it up, though, Grovyle and Celebi would love to join in. Pray help them if they decide to do it on a sunny day, because Eliana’s ability almost helps her outpace the old ghost. It’s the only time the others ever get truly worn out.)

[trashytrashsblog]

So I want to make a rant or idk just give my opinion (?) about MCL:NG since seven episodes have passed.

I actually started writing it after the fifth episode but I abandoned it in the drafts... so lol.

I know that there is a section on the forum about it but my english is too bad and I need to curse. Also I'd like to comment freely with other players.

So let's get started!

The website is really cool and different it's like fresh air, sometimes is a little bit overwhelming (like the colours) nonetheless I like it. I don't get why there isn't italian in the languages, maybe we are less than I imagined.

The calendar is a cute idea but all the pop-ups when you collect the things instead of one are so annoying. Hope they make it into ONE single pop-up. Also when you get the jokers and they last three days and you can't or have nothing to play... like useless? okay? thanks?

The currencies? Don't let me started.... I get it, the game needs money to run but for fuck sake too many and poorly set. I can't get over the fact that I have to use APs for buying shit, every time I use them I feel bad because then I fear I won't have enough for the upcoming episode. Miss gold valute :(

The daily limited offer idk, I think it is a little bit too expensive for what it provides, especially considering that we can’t even choose the color scheme. Also, it doesn’t make sense to have a daily offer that you pay for when all the packs appear everytime. Although I read from some user on the forum that certain packs don't appear, dunno why. Anyways why don't you display all of them?

I have the same problem, like everyone, with the messages and the hearts. Hope they create a button where we can send and collect the hearts all at once. However I don't like so much the limited daily hearts. The graphics are very pretty though, and the messages we receive from the flirts at the end of the episode are a delight for me.

The minigames are more interactive compared to the MCL ones but I also have mixed feelings. The daily missions are a cute idea for collecting fashion items or forniture. Hope they add gems or something similar to find OR could the tickets buy other things that might be more useful like jokers. The Style contest could have been ten times nicer if it didn’t penalize you for not choosing the most popular outfit, which happens to be the one with more exclusive items. So it leads you to choose not what you prefer but what hypothetically everyone would choose. Recently I read about it from other players here on tumblr bc it's actually a bit ridiculous to see podiums all the same.

The wardrobe..... confusing as hell. Why there are items that I can't even try.... frustrating. At first I tought that the merged shop was a bad thing but now I changed my mind because this way I can see how the clothes go with the ones I already have. Speaking about graphics, I like them, I like the possibility of editing the room, Taki is a cute little accessory. The personalization choices of the character is satisfying but I miss the gray eyes they were my favourite :c Also I noticed that the expressions with the mouth open seem weird, as if there is something wrong in the proportins. But maybe it’s just me. I think there are less basic free items already present in comparison to MCL like moles, eyebrows, a little makeup...

Everything every single things brings me to a point were I feel the urge to buy packs, vips just for regular things (I don't know how to explain it) unlike the old games were it was funnier to buy special items.... now it seems like I'm buying base items beyond the extravagant ones.

The game dynamics left me perplexed at first, but I think I will have to get used to it. It’s a continuous and infinite expenditure of AP. Getting used to paying 2 AP for each answer was already difficult, but now having to pay even 40/80/120 aps… It makes me so mad... in italian I would say vafanguuul!!! The fact that i don't have the lov'o meter on sight I don't like it either and it seems that it only updates at the end of the episode and not in between or maybe I am wrong idk. Being able to relive the special moments however is a nice gem, especially after paying them. The briefing after finishing the episode is fun. Another thing that drives me MAD is having to buy the outfit after having already paid to fucking unlock it. At least give me the unlocked color???

BUT the illustrations, the story, the characters and their design ( god bless chinomiko) make me continue the game because it would be a lie to say that the story didn’t catch me (Jason Mendal I'm all yours and I wanna know everything about you) even tho the episodes are a little slow, maybe because we are just at the beginnig...expecting drama, fun time and some serious topics too...

And that's it, for now ahahahah xb

[devil-doll13]

Some Brahms Heelshire headcanons that have been little worms rotting my brain for a while. I want to understand him better <3

Many of these are x reader bc I couldn’t help myself

Starting with some ‘common knowledge’ stuff I generally agree on: yes, he is a sweaty boy. I actually think he has more anxiety than you might initially think he has, and this nervousness sort of goes towards causing it.

I touched on this in my Brahms fic months ago but this man really needs a routine in his life. He needs consistency and structure, and doesn’t react well to sudden change. He needs to approve of every nanny that is offered to him, they can’t just be introduced without his say-so. Nor can any of his rules be broken or altered, or ever strayed from. He’s very particular about certain things and what he likes and dislikes. Put it this way: if he isn’t pleased with something, you will know one way or the other.

His diet is very predictable and simple - some might even say bland - and this is also along the same line as this need for routine. Side note, but I think if you gave him spicy food he’d probably die or something… He’s English after all kwkdflf

Being confined inside the walls of the Heelshire estate most of the time has led to him developing a touch of Agoraphobia. He’s also definitely an indoors person, while I believe he may be able to appreciate the beauty of nature, mostly something like a well-tended garden, he’d prefer to remain at a distance. If he had to choose, he enjoys admiring english roses the most. He wouldn’t protest much if you decided to bring in a few to put in a vase.

Also, the vast amounts of time Brahms has on his hands (when not spent watching his nanny or parents, when they were still alive) goes towards cultivating his many hobbies; and he has many different interests. He may not have been part of any public schooling system, but that doesn’t really mean anything, he absorbs information eagerly regardless. He’s an avid reader and probably knows the Heelshire mansion’s library inside and out at this point, with both fiction and non-fiction (although you just know he was raised on a diet of pre-approved classics) catching his interest. Some of these beloved favourites are quite weathered and worn-out now. You know the kind I’m talking about, hanging practically by a thread from the spine…

Brahms is also a big music guy. His parents probably were as well. I mean, I personally believe they named him after the composer. We see in the movie that the music needs to be played loud, probably so he can hear reverberating all through the house (although tbh the way the house is, it doesn’t take that much. He still just wants it LOUD). Given that we can see a violin in his room, as well as sheet music, I think he can play both it and the piano. It would’ve been difficult for him to stop enjoying this, since he had to pretend he didn’t exist when a nanny/Greta was there.

Before the fire, his parents (particularly his mother) saw his upstart skill with music as the potential to become the next great composer, and pushed him towards improving it. Even if these expectations caused some stress for him back then, Brahms still loves playing dearly now.

He also sees this as an opportunity to impress upon you that he’s incredibly suave and attractive and cultured™️ so that you’ll stay. In his mind, if he comes across as interesting enough, he’ll have a better chance of wooing you into permanent residence in his house. That grocery boy is his sworn enemy in part because, deep down, he‘s self-aware enough to know that there are many difficulties to being with a man like him. Brahms is a complex mixture of quite spoiled and entitled vs insecurity, and he doesn’t enjoy confronting these thoughts either.

Oh, as for how he’d react to new music that isn’t classical, I don’t think it would entirely be a hatred for something new. While there may be a period of ‘what is this s/o this is not on the schedule?’ Brahms is a curious boy at heart, a man who was sequestered from the rest of the world and had much of his knowledge intake restricted, particularly by his mother. It will not be an immediate appreciation from him, but I think that this curiosity - and his desire to get to know you better - will win over in the end.

While I know it’s popular consensus that he’s a horny boy and very clingy and touch starved, (which I agree with to some degree), I also think one thing he’s been missing his entire life is good, intelligent conversation. His parents tended to talk at him rather than to him, and, well… It’s left him quite isolated and lonely, only able to imagine making a human connection through novels and daydreams. Brahms is one of the few slashers who does speak and I think he can speak quite well and eloquently. This might surprise you if you’ve gotten used to the doll persona, but Brahms the man is so real, so raw, and he’s formed an unbreakable bond with you before you’ve even realised he exists. He craves a genuine connection with you that goes beyond just lust, and I honestly believe he can be gentle. We see how tenderly he treats the Greta doll for instance, how it seems to be well looked after and given lots of space on his bed. A real person isn’t the same as a body-pillow, but… I don’t think he’d be as terrible a lover as people think.

He absolutely has major attachment issues and separation anxiety though. It only gets worse after Greta, after his parents… And yeah, he is clingy as fuck. Brahms can get addicted to actual, physical human touch very quickly. For far too long, he’s been substituting with pillows and dolls; but he’s had quite enough of dolls, now. I can honestly see him developing some resentment towards the thing, because although it has been his ‘persona’ for many years, it isn’t really him. Basically, once he’s revealed himself, Brahms could care less what happens to it… It might be therapeutic for him to even smash it himself, yeah? It’s a tantrum he needs to throw.

Anyway on a lighter note, it gets very draughty in the Heelshire mansion - it’s old, after all. He’s a hound for cuddles all the time, but especially during the winter months because he’s desperate for some heat and human connection. He enjoys lying on top of you like some kind of weighted blanket, and also likes it when you do the same to him. Curl up on his fuzzy chest and pour over a book together, it’s practically mandatory at this point <3

I can’t see him wanting children with you at all, sorry. He’s way too selfish honestly lol. He hogs your affection and love day and night and he’s pretty shameless about it. Besides, he’s just not father material to be entirely honest. he’s your baby why do you want another one

Also any pets you have are on on thin ice… He wouldn’t hurt them (I wouldn’t like to believe so anyway) but he’s always jealous and sulky if he thinks you’re spending more time with them than him, even if it’s like. Five more minutes yes he has a record, probably a calendar or something. He tends to plop his curly head on your lap and demand you stroke it and lavish your attention on him until he’s satisfied. Which will probably be never tbh.

[triplexdoublex]

Guys at 2 she had her oldest son full on wearing dresses and as soon as she saw he liked them she bought a bunch of books talking about why it’s ok for a boy to dress like a girl. I have nothing against trans people at all but at 2 a child can barly say thier ABCs let alone decide that they want to wear dresses all the time unless someone is pointing them in that direction and in fact a lot of lil boys did play with barbies and try on dresses and stuff but it’s bc they see the other girl kids or thier friends doing it so they want to see wat the fuss is all about just like a lot of lil girls go through fazes where they like lil boy cloths, or trucks, or playing dirty, it’s fazes give it a few months or a yr and most kids grow out of it yet Megan had a bunch of dresses sitting around her house for him to play with and was fully prepared to buy him all kinds of books explaining why it’s ok to dress as a girl and continued to dress him like that (there’s a pic of her oldest in a princess dress when he looked like he could barly walk) and she did all of this …… at 2 And then did the same for the next 2. And then Sharna comes into the picture and all of a sudden her 2 youngest started dressing more like lil boys.

Ok here’s my take on that … I like to believe she was was just a mother trying to be supportive and doing her best to make sure her child knows he’s is loved no matter what. I stated reading LGBT+ books to my daughter very young as well because I think it’s important to let kids ( yes even as young as 2) to know it’s okay and completely normal before society has the chance to tell them otherwise, especially with the lack of representation in kids shows, movies ,media. Teaching or exposing kids to that isn’t “sexual or about sexuality” it’s as simple as them just seeing a picture book or say a boy wearing at a dress or a picture of a child with two moms ect . It makes it’s natural , so their brain doesn’t flag it as odd , when they see it irl one day and you don’t have your kid yelling “mom why’s that man wearing a dress ?!” in the middle of Target. Instead their brain just sees it as something they’ve seen before and it’s normal and they move on because it’s natural. I tried to do this with eveything when my daughter was young . We read books about other religions ( even though I’m atheist) and their different head coverings. We live across from a convent and had a “mom why is her dressed like a penguin?” incident when a Nun walked by when she was a baby , if she had seen or been exposed to nuns prior it would have been natural to her and the wouldn’t be a need to question it, so I turned it i to a teachable moment and made sure we got some kids books about different religious head covering and even printed out a simple picture matching game of pairs of various head coverings .Another great example is potty training… we as people fear what we do not know and are not fond of change , so of course when a child’s only known to use the bathroom in their diaper they might be afraid of the toilet when the start potty training or refuse to use it ect only prolonging the process… I did elimination communication with my daughter and started putting her little potty when she was only a few months old , by 17 months she was completely potty trained day and night , no awkward transition stage of refusing or being afraid , it was always natural to her. This isn’t me bragging about my parenting , I’m just trying to explain the earlier children are exposed to certain things the more natural and accepting they are to it. There’s nothing wrong with it as long as it’s of course appropriate. As for Megan’s other 2 sons I think maybe they just wanted to be like their brother , and now that’d they’re getting older they’re growing into their own. As much as I don’t like her, I don’t believe she was in any way forcing them to “dress like girls” but I’m sure she probably enjoyed the attention and controversy caused by it.

[ghcstao3]

IDK if this thing I keep hearing about Soap being an artist is canon (bc I don’t actually play any shooter games, including COD, I just like the fanart & HCs) but Shkretart’s recent Ghost art study made me think of the classic “draw me like one of your French girls” AKA for some reason, Soap (who’s already pining over Ghost) convinces his crush to pose nude for him. Maybe things get a lil bit heated (in a sexy way, not an angry way lol)?

it is actually canon! from the original games, soap kept a journal that had sketches in it with his entries, if you’re wondering where that whole thing came from

now. i pulled a fade to black moment because i have no idea how tumblr guidelines work. so apologies hope this okay

-

It’s never been a secret that Soap has a knack for art.

It’s something he’s proud of, always seeking to improve, and it’s hardly unheard of for soldiers to witness him tucked away in his corners on base with a journal, sketchbook, or some other medium scratching away at whatever comes to mind in those moments.

It's no secret, either, that he's talented for someone who claims he "isn't any sort of artist," and it's no secret at all that he has a preference for portraits.

However. However.

Though he isn't ashamed of it in any regard, nor is he any kind of prude, Soap does prefer to keep guarded his anatomy studies. For fear of judgement or something else, he isn’t certain, but they’re kept in a separate journal tucked under his mattress for when the time so comes for him to work on it again.

And currently, Soap’s begun to feel that pull again. A certain fascination, perhaps, is what lures him. Or maybe it’s the big, fat crush he has on his lieutenant.

Either way, he’s found himself unsatisfied with what he’s been able to draw of Ghost—from afar, masked. Clothed in too many layers for Soap to make sense of much.

(A lie. A complete and utter lie. But Soap has unreasonable wants, doesn’t he?)

The thing that sets him off is incredibly pathetic. But it forces Soap to finally muster up the courage to try and warm Ghost up to the idea of being drawn—studied—so Soap supposes he can forgive himself for being so hopeless just this once.

It’s post a sparring match. Soap still loses most rounds against Ghost, but he’d say he’s gotten significantly better in the time they’ve worked together. Even Ghost might say the same, if Soap were so lucky. But it just happens that sparring matches are usually when Ghost tends to wear looser clothing, and when he stretches his arms his shirt rides up, just enough for Soap to catch a glimpse of the cut of his hips, the lines of his abs, his trim waist. He’s known Ghost is fit, but seeing it has Soap itching for his pencil.

The first time he blurts out his idea, Ghost gives him a very firm no. Which isn’t much of a surprise—just asking his superior officer if he’s ever considered posing for someone to draw is a little too forthcoming, especially when it’s the first Soap has ever mentioned anything of it to him.

But then he keeps asking, hinting, persuading, until weeks after the thought strikes Soap, Ghost miraculously agrees to let Soap sketch him.

His body. The curves of strong muscles, the sharp edges of everything else. Long limbs, graceful in spite of the destruction they’re more than capable of. Gentle hands despite their scars, and soft eyes despite the hardened shell of everything Ghost.

Soap is nervous, to say the least. When the day finally comes one unassuming evening, when Soap is led to Ghost’s quarters like it isn’t some big deal.

And maybe it isn’t, but it is for him. So he’s nervous. Beyond unsure.

Ghost is hard to read, more so than usual. He seems almost casual settling into his room, untying his laces and placing his boots neatly aside. Shucking off his hoodie and dropping it unceremoniously on his dresser. Soap watches from the doorway, awkwardly hovering as the door clicks shut behind him.

Suddenly Ghost pauses, glances to Soap with eyebrows raised. He then looks to a spare chair tucked in the corner of the room and gestures vaguely before continuing his undress.

When his mask is unexpectedly tugged off, Soap finds his way to the chair before his knees buckle underneath him. This has to be a mistake.

He’s dreaming, surely. Ghost never agreed and Soap is dreaming and why would he ever get the opportunity to—

“How do you want me, then?” Ghost asks. Soap’s eyes snap to the lieutenant’s.

He’s lost his shirt now, too. Soap isn’t certain why he’s taken aback—it’s exactly what he had asked Ghost to do.

Ghost isn’t looking at him anymore, instead pulling off his trousers and leaving them in a pile with the rest of his clothing.

“Uh,” Soap says rather eloquently, “however, ‘s fine.”

Ghost’s brows are furrowed, his jaw tensed. But he sits on his bed anyway, crossing his legs as he stares curiously at Soap, like the interaction is nothing as he’s expected.

Which is fair. Because Soap had hoped it wouldn’t be like this, either. He feels stilted in his own movements, tearing his eyes away from Ghost to adjust in his seat and open his journal to a blank page.

“We don’t have to do this,” Ghost says—and why’s he asking that?

“That’s meant to be my line, LT,” Soap teases. His face is flushed, he knows it, but he has to summon what courage had got him here in the first place, if this is meant to be any kind of worth it.

Ghost huffs, shifting his position. His legs fall wider, torso lengthening as he straightens his posture a moment before splaying himself more openly, sitting back on his palms.

“Pretend I’m not here,” Soap says. He forces his gaze back on Ghost and clears his throat. “Or don’t. Jus’… don’t feel like you have to pose.”

Ghost nods. It’s awkward for them both as they’re blanketed by silence, but once Soap finally begins copying life onto his page, the tension begins to ease.

By no means is Ghost’s physique something Soap hasn’t drawn before—so it’s simple, tracing out the basic shapes. It’s mindless, and Soap hardly has to spare Ghost a glance.

It’s the marks and spots and scars that cause him issue, as every pencil stroke demands more detail, more accuracy, more studying of Ghost’s figure. What’s presented as is isn’t enough, so on impulse Soap ventures to move closer, to adjust Ghost as he sees comfortably fit.

He stops a tad too close, a hand outstretched and well within Ghost’s space. His journal as been left on the chair, fanned out and face down on the seat.

“Do you mind?” Soap asks quietly.

Ghost peers up at him through his stupidly blond lashes, dark eyes wide yet clouded over with something inscrutable. He shakes his head.

Soap is finally hesitant despite the permission. Ghost’s skin is warm beneath his fingertips. He’s too easy to manoeuvre, for being the man Soap has always known him to be.

But then Soap makes the mistake of looking back into Ghost’s eyes. Makes the mistake of flicking his gaze to Ghost’s exposed lips.

They’re too close, like this. Soap should step away and return to his sketches. He should be maintaining some semblance of composure even in spite of the situation, the circumstances.

But he doesn’t. And he can’t.

Thinking he’d ever survive something like this without breaking was a mistake.

“Johnny?”

With great effort, Soap retracts his hand. “I’m sorry.” He rambles, “I’m sorry. This is—wildly inappropriate, sir, and I never should have—“

Ghost seizes his wrist. Soap doesn't get the time to process anything before Ghost is dragging him close again, pulling Soap down to meet his lips.

Soap falls easily into his lieutenant. They slot together naturally as Ghost moves further back onto the bed for Soap to chase after, suddenly craving the sharp scent of gunpowder and whatever eyeblack Ghost had washed off prior to the entire encounter, suddenly wanting to taste every bit of Ghost's lips, his tongue, his mouth.

Ghost's warmth feels more inviting, now. The solidity of his body seems far less intimidating as it had only as a spectator. It somehow takes less courage to explore every dip and curve with Soap's hands as opposed to his pencil.

Ghost is everything Soap has wanted, here and now. And he hadn’t ever realized Ghost had felt the same.

It’s safe to say that Soap's sketches never get finished that night.

[thatgirlonstage]

It's been so long since I thought about 07-Ghost and then you resurrect in the year of our lord 2024. I might have to reread it, it's been *so long*

LISTEN

I PLAYED

MYSELF

IN THE STUPIDEST

WAY

POSSIBLE

I’m doing a fandom fic alphabet bingo thing, right, except that now 9-1-1 is in the mix bc I was frothing at the mouth to turn Evan Buckley into a mermaid and I’m gonna be annoyed if I get all the letters and then there’s just an annoying 9 hanging out at the start so now it has to be alphanumerical and I straight up don’t think I have seen or read something for every NUMBER, especially going strictly on “it has to start with the numeral and Ao3 has to sort it that way.” (Eg: Re:Zero doesn’t count for 0, it counts for “R”)

So I am literally just like. Clicking around at random into ao3 categories to see what other fics already exist for certain numbers in case they might be shows I can watch to solve this problem I’ve created for myself. And I google 07-Ghost and get told “this is a sci-fi/fantasy show about a boy with amnesia” and I’m like cool, that sounds reasonably like my shit, I’ll check it out, but honestly if zero is a number I have to leave off that’s okay, I can live with that. I need to emphasize I had never in my life heard of this show. I knew nothing about it going in except what I’ve just said.

I watch the first episode and I’m like cool this seems reasonably like my shit, also, that homoeroticism with Mikage tho 👀 as long as they keep doing that it’s definitely at least worth sticking around for lmao

(At this interlude I DID see the cover of the first volume and get told what magazine it was published in so I was clued in that Certain Things Were Happening On Purpose, but still, yknow, whether or not the flavors are gonna click was still up in the air.)

I watched several more episodes.

And it ate

my damn

brain.

I don’t know if I can pinpoint the moment that first Got me but I can tell you that the moment it went from “oh no I’m obsessed” to “o h n o” was the fucking,,,,, underwater prison scene, because he SMILED and I perished and I’ll never be okay again. (I’m legally obliged to note that I fucking wept at Mikage’s death but it did have to be Frau who carried me over the line of “I am enjoying this anime” to “I need the rest of this story Fucking Immediately”)

SO THAT BY THE TIME I REACHED THE END OF THE ANIME I ALREADY KNEW I WAS GONNA HAVE TO GO BUY THE MANGA BECAUSE I NEED. TO READ THE REST OF IT.

BUT THE DAMN THING IS OUT OF PRINT

Some of the volumes are still reasonably easy to find but SOME OF THEM ARE NOT and I’ve just spent WEEKS intermittently trawling secondhand book sites waiting for someone to post vol 4 at a reasonable price because for weeks the only copies that have been available are posted for five hundred american dollars

(Thank you random eBay user who posted it for an actual normal human price to pay for a book the other night I owe you my fucking life)

(“Just read the scanlations” I’ve heard they’re not great? No idea if that’s just detritus rumors from old fandom wars or what but still, I do wanna have the physical volumes anyway)

So anyway. Hi. Hello. I’m fucking delighted to discover you know this show. Can I come scream at you about Teito and his boyfriends? They’re in love and it’s ruining my life.

Points at Evan Buckley. Somehow this is all your fault.

[redheadbigshoes]

I feel awful with what I am about to say. I try not to make blanket statements about people or assumptions either. But it’s been really hard recently for me not to. I want to try to talk about this to people irl but I don’t want to get called biphobic before I can finish expressing my thoughts and feelings. It’s been very hard for me to trust women who say they’re bisexual recently. I hate being that person. but I’ve been hurt so much by women who say they’re bisexual and then they end up being like “I am actually straight, sorry” or they’re talking to me and entertain the thought of dating me but I find out they have a whole ass bf. I’ve been cheated on by bisexuals, and I know it has absolutely NOTHING to do with them being bisexual and has everything to do with them being a shity person. But each time it was a man. It honestly would’ve been a little bit of a softer blow if it was a women. I’ve come across many bisexual women who cannot conceptualize being with a women long term or they still expect certain heteronormative actions/gestures despite being with a women. Ive heard bisexuals say it’s easier to be with a man socially, but then get upset when lesbians say that’s a privilege.

I know that not all bisexuals are like this, it’s just been hard not to push them all away bc I’ve been hurt and deceived sm by people who say they’re bi. You can’t help but subconsciously put a group of people who all have something in common who’ve hurt you all into the same box. When you’ve been hurt so much by a specific group of people it’s hard to fight to the urge to put them all in the same category.

I really hope my message doesn’t come across malicious to bi ppl. I think bisexual ppl have sm love to offer the world and have an interesting POV to life and society. It’s just hard seeing past the ppl who hurt me and see the good people and their beauty, love, and friendship.

I understand how hard it can be to think logically when you’ve had negative experiences with a group of people, but - as you’ve already said yourself - it’s not every bisexual sapphic who’s like that, generalizing a whole minority isn’t cool.

Idk if this will help (or perhaps the opposite) but I have seen so many cases of self-called lesbians who also cheated on their partner with a guy, so truly we really cannot know if the person is playing with you or not.

I guess - regardless of what the person identifies as - we always have to be careful when dating someone else. I’d say to really get to know the person before you start dating them.

About bi sapphics who don’t want to be with women in long-term relationships: I don’t think there’s really anything we can do about it. Honestly it’s understandable being afraid to be with another woman in a long-term relationship and preferring to date men. But when it comes to this case I feel like it’s way easier to spot the person because they’d probably not be willing to publicly date you.

This might be shitty of me to say but my best advice is to try looking for sapphics who are not in the closet to date, especially if you’ve been through negative experiences like you’ve been through. Try to look for someone who’s out and very public about their sexuality because they’re probably less likely to toy with you and do the things you said.

[flowersandbirdsflyingfree]

oh shiiiii being fed before finals :o3333

i'm not too picky with what boomer shooter he's from, but postal was my hyperfixation for almost a year (graduated to special interest), maybe not p4 dude bc he's more father than daddy if you get what i mean.

for me, I'm a 5'2" transmasc fella, buzzed black hair, with mixed ancestry. I wear grungy clothing, usually with surface-level alternative bands (MCR, ICP)

people called me both militant and silly. i don't open up easily, but once i do, expect random noises, niche quotes and a running mouth. have mommy AND daddy issues. i have a fascination with numbers (not so excellent at math, though, think like dates and statistics), and an affinity for "little guys" (critters, creatures), sweets, and clowns. i dabble in weed and drink alcohol (my go-tos are gummies and rum n coke)

i play video games, draw cartoons, and am on a quest for knowledge (thank the auDHD) about my hyperfixations and special interests. for example, i tend to take pictures of irl graffiti to study different graffiti artstyles. as for MBTI, i'm xNTJ (flips around between INTJ and ENTJ a lot)

as for partners, i get romantically interested in men AND women, not sexually. a handful of fictional crushes i had/have are blonde and buff, but i think a sense of humor and compassion is WAAAY more necessary to win my damaged heart. (probably improper grammar)

thanks for reading and have an excellent holiday!!!!!!!!

Hello there! I hope your holiday is great as well. To be honest, both matchup and Postal exclusively, there was already an answer for you:

Postal 2 Dude

You already are on the same wavelength in terms of style and mindset. The Postal Dude also a bi king who has a taste for blondes typically, but just like you it doesn’t matter. It’s the heart that counts. Thank God you’re actually one of the good ones in this world.

He really loves your ICP shirt! Every now and then, he tends to sing a few of their tunes to himself while running errands. He might put on some of his fav bands in the car radio if you ever wanna listen! They’re usually 90s grunge and nu-metal bands. Ph8 is one of his favorite bands.

The both of you can just take a few hits of his bong (or chew some gummies its up to you) and lay on the floor during your highs to just infodump wherever the night takes you. He’s impressed how much brain you’ve got stored in there. He’s… something else. His stoned attitude ranges from “ha ha peen its” humor to “did you know if you rupture someone’s achilles heel real bad, it sounds like a gunshot and is pretty much permanently damaged forever?”

It’s pretty often for him to kick down doors and trespass wherever he pleases. He’ll gladly help you go to places like the city or abandoned buildings to study some graffiti art. Dude is also a backup bodyguard against any bad strangers lurking in the area.

I can also see you two making friends with little critters all the time. Maybe you encourage his softer side more when you feed the stray cats roaming about Paradise. One of them regularly visits to affectionately rub up against your leg. You name him Toki and check up on him every day by the restaurant district where he usually stays. Dude says he can’t be kept as a pet to prevent conflict because of a certain someone Champ

The Dude has more issues than a copy of a Freudian Monthly magazine. But he isn’t as hard as he lets on. You’ve been more patient with him than he feels he deserves. But you also get the struggle. Someone who knows the world isn’t sparkles and bullshit yet keeps going has a resilience he really loves. He won’t say it directly unless it’s late enough. But he damn well shows it in the way he treats you well.

[crimsonedquill]

Hey there! Just gonna pop in and tell you you're doing god's work! 💚💙 And I'm addicted to Tumblr again bc of your blog lmao

If you're still accepting requests, can we have some sweet, loving and deliciously smutty Imelda x f!mc, except MC is self-conscious about her battle scars and Imelda rushing to console her even if she isn't particularly good at it

A Little Love (Imelda Reyes x f!MC)

I keep insisting this totally isn’t an Imelda Reyes stan blog but then I see another Melly request and it’s like who am I kidding lol

I also say this far too often but I really had a ton of fun with this prompt, it might just be my favourite yet. Imelda x feelings is a combo I’ll never not enjoy writing!

(Also, to the lovely anon who requested a sequel to the smutty shower post, I know this doesn’t technically count but I definitely consider it a spiritual successor 😛)

Content warning: NSFW (18+). Foul language, heavy smut, discussion of feelings.

MC was lying on her back in the middle of the big four-poster bed when she heard wet footsteps approaching from the adjacent bathroom. She looked up from the book she’d been reading to see Imelda leaning against the doorpost, hair still damp from her shower, wearing nothing but a comfy shirt and a particularly shit-eating grin.

“See anything you like?” MC asked as she returned to her book, her lips forming a smile behind the pages.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” came the retort. “We both know I could get much better.”

“Right. Can’t help but notice you’re standing half-naked in my bedroom, though.”

Imelda left her spot at the door and strode toward the bed, swaying her hips in that especially alluring way she knew MC liked. Sure enough, the girl briefly stole a glance over the cover, though her eyes quickly darted back to the text when the Captain stopped in front of her, hands at her hips. “I do admit you may have certain… redeeming qualities.”

“Uh-huh,” MC said.

“All the studying definitely isn’t one of them, though.” Imelda let herself fall on the bed, plopping her head on MC’s belly. “Fuck’s sake,” she sighed, “You have no idea how horny I am right now.”

MC flipped a page, undisturbed. “So, play with yourself or something.”

“Oh, I just might. I bet you’d love to see me put up a show.” The Slytherin smirked at her, propping herself up on her elbows. “Hey, I have a better idea.”

“What’s that?”

“You dump that stupid book, and I’ll fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk upright for a week.”

“Merlin,” MC laughed, “never really been one for romance, have you?”

Imelda rolled her eyes. “Okay. How about, “I wish to consummate our love, you stuck-up precious bitch”?”

MC giggled again. As far as love confessions went, this was probably the best she could get from Slytherin’s finest.

“Whad’ya say, though?” Imelda asked, eagerly nuzzling her tummy. “Up for a little girl-on-girl time?”

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s just so much studying left to do –”

“Fuuuuuuuuck that,” Imelda whined. “Your books always get all of the attention. I think it’s time you gave me some.”

MC smirked. Annoying Imelda Reyes would never not be one of her favourite pastimes. “Someone’s sounding a little needy.”

“Damn right I do. I’m a needy little love sponge. And I need you to soak me.”

All right, that had no business sounding as hot as it did. It probably also didn’t help that she’d been feeling a twitching down in her core since the moment Imelda had appeared in the doorway, practically looking ready to jump her right then and there. Not that she’d ever admit the Slytherin had that effect on her. She wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Imelda lightly caressed her through her sweater, correctly having read her lack of response. MC murmured, adjusting her hips a little. She felt a couple of fingers trying to sneak under the garment and quickly moved her hand to intercept them. “The top stays on.”

Imelda huffed something, too impatient to put up much of a fight. MC knew she had every right to complain. They’d had sex before, but it had never gotten to the point where MC had felt comfortable enough to go completely bare. There had always been stupid reasons, silly excuses, even the occasional argument. But Imelda had never pressed her.

Sometime, they would figure it out together, she decided. For now, however, Imelda seemed content, quickly hooking her fingers into the waistband of her trousers before slipping them over her hips. Her eyes lit up at her find.

“Oh, you lying –” she cursed triumphantly, “you are dripping like a good little bitch.”

Indeed she was. In fact, now that her cunt was exposed to her partner’s gaze, MC felt just how much she was throbbing, folds thick and swollen with desire. Imelda placed her hands in her thighs, slowly forcing them apart, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin. MC was glad the book was hiding most of the dark flush that was suddenly creeping up her cheeks. Not that she doubted for a second that Imelda knew exactly what she was doing; the mischievous smirk as she was drawing small circles around the rim of her achingly hot cunny said as much.

“You want this, don’t you?” the Slytherin teased, bringing up a finger, tip coated in slick. The other brushed ever so closely past her damp folds, causing a shiver to course through MC’s body. She simply nodded, lest her shaky breath would betray just how much she was dying for Imelda’s touch –

Another menacing chuckle, another brush against her tender lips. Fucking hell, there were days when she really wanted to curse Imelda’s proficiency in girl pussy – she knew she could keep this up all day if she wanted to, just edging her until she was a hot mess, begging for release.

“I guess I could give you what you need, but, oh, I don’t know,” Imelda mused. “What’s in it for little old me?”

Of course. Everybody knew Imelda Reyes didn’t do favours. Normally MC wouldn’t be so quick to indulge her, but she was bloody aching and she wanted to get off –

“Please…” she murmured from behind the book.

Imelda traced another circle, chuckling to herself. “I’m sorry, what’s that?”

MC dropped the book to shoot her a glare. “Would you please fuck my pussy alr –”

But the rest of her plea was lost in a powerful moan as her mouth fell open, eyes widening.

Ooooooooooh fuuuuuuuuuuuu –

It was good. So good. Imelda had plunged two of her fingers inside of her, cutting off her breath and sending her into a delightful fit. She shuddered as the digits dipped past her folds, sliding inside, sliding home.

“Bloody hell, I can tell how much you’ve missed me,” Imelda said, almost in wonder. Merlin, yes, she didn’t even realise how much she had been yearning for the feeling, but all of that didn’t matter now; Imelda had her, she had her now and she wouldn’t stop until MC was screaming her name –

MC whined softly, chest rising, book slipping out of her fingers and landing on the ground with a thud. Imelda smiled up at her, beginning to pump at a slow pace to let her acclimatise to the rhythm. Hell, if only MC realised how much this was turning her on, having her completely at her mercy, dictating every pulse, every twitch, every component of her pleasure. She felt heat beginning to build up between her own legs as she watched the girl writhe and twist on her fingers.

“Such a good, tight pussy,” Imelda cooed. “So fucking wet for me.”

She twisted her fingers, curling them inside of MC so she could reach that special little spot that always made her squirm. As she had predicted, it didn’t take long for her effort to be rewarded with a whimper and a gush of sweet juice spilling from MC’s fleshy curtains.

“That’s it,” she hissed contently. Fuck almighty, she had to get in on this somehow. Without losing pace for even a second, she wrestled her undies down past her knees and climbed on top of MC’s thigh, letting out a groan of relief as her heat was met with some much-needed friction. She began rocking back and forth, wetness spilling out of her, eyes burning lustfully as she fingerbanged MC nice and hard.

MC was beyond words. Her head had fallen to the side, eyes closed, lips mouthing silent curses as she fought back against the rising tide of her orgasm. She didn’t want this to end, fuck, she wanted to feel like this forever, she wanted to be fucked right out her senses, and then she wanted Imelda’s mouth on her until the sun came up and then she wanted oh fuck fuck fuck –

“Come on then, bitch,” Imelda growled between her own gasps, “you know I won’t stop until I’ve got you spitting over my fingers like a sweet little –”

That did it. MC came, clamping down on Imelda’s fingers, a strained cry slipping through her lips as electric waves rippled up from her core. The Slytherin looked on in awe her back arched up from the bed, the sweater slipping back to reveal just a tiny inch of marked flesh – wait, was that…

But then MC collapsed back again. Imelda waited a moment before she withdrew her fingers, the digits making a lewd sloshing sound as a blob of MC’s girly juices trickled from her well-fucked hole. Neither of them spoke as they sat there, air thick with the musky scent of sex and the sound of their breathing. Imelda noticed she she was more preoccupied with her new discovery than the fact that that she hadn’t even achieved her own climax yet. She had never told her about the scars. Why had she never told her about the scars?

As she managed to recover her breath, MC lifted her head to flash her a weak smile. Imelda didn’t return it. Without warning, she suddenly reached for MC’s sweater and gave it a yank, causing the girl to back away from her with a gasp. She drew her knees up to her chest and looked at her, breathing heavily, eyes wide.

“When were you planning on telling me?” Imelda asked, sounding betrayed.

MC seemed at a loss of words. She was clearly panicking, stuttering as she frantically searched for an excuse. “Mel, I –”

“‘Cause these aren’t new,” Imelda interrupted, pointing to her stomach. “Is that why you always weasel out when I want to see you? Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

“No, Mel, t-that’s not it at all –” MC sighed, casting her eyes down. “Look, I was going to tell you, but I didn’t want to do it now –”

Imelda shrugged, crossing her arms. Maybe she should have felt bad for more or less ambushing MC during what was clearly a vulnerable moment, but either way, she wasn’t feeling any hint of shame. “Might as well. Who knows, I could reward you with another fuck when you’re done confessing, since you seem to think that’s all I’m good for.”

MC’s eyes suddenly shot up again, her tone shifting. “Really? You’re not sure you’ve got that backwards?”

Imelda frowned. “Huh?”

“Because that’s exactly the reason I was afraid to tell you,” MC continued. “Look, Mel, I – I think you’re great. I think the sex is great. But I keep wondering if that’s literally all there is to… us. Our relationship. To be honest, most of the time I can’t even tell if you’re in love with me or with my body.”

The words lingered, prickling, stinging. Imelda felt something unpleasant crawling up inside her chest. She wanted to say something, but her mind had trouble stringing together her thoughts. That wasn’t true – she didn’t think of MC that way, did she?

“I didn’t want you to know because –” MC hesitated, but then said firmly, “Because I thought you’d lose interest if you knew.”

Oh, shite. This couldn’t be happening. Imelda squeezed her eyes shut, sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, tried to gather her thoughts. “Fucking hell, MC.”

“You wanted to know. Now you do.” MC sat silently, still holding her knees as she waited for the Slytherin’s response. There was nothing more left to say, no more secrets. Whatever was coming, she would face it.

“I – I don’t –”

Imelda growled, frustrated with herself. She never got tongue-tied, so why was she doing it now? Pull yourself together, Reyes.

“I don’t love your body,” she muttered, before correcting herself. “No, I mean, I do love your body, but I also love you and… fuck, you know what I mean.”

MC was still looking at her, her expression unchanging. She took a deep breath and tried again.

“What I mean to say is – yes, okay, I like sex. Sex is nice, it’s simple. I’ve never cared much for sappiness, the pet names and flowers and holding hands, because you know, there’s always… more. I suppose I just… I’m afraid to get bogged down in stupid shite and commitments I don’t want.”

Hell, that couldn’t have come out crappier even if she had wanted to. She quickly tried to think of something else to say, but then MC suddenly took her hand. “I understand.”

Imelda looked at her, confused. “You do?”

“Of course. Merlin, I was surprised when you took an interest in me in the first place. The great Imelda Reyes, stooping to the level of such a measly peasant –”

“Oh, fuck you.”

MC chuckled. “But, you know, it’s all right. I never expected you to ask for my hand in marriage. You have your life, and I have mine. Though, that doesn’t mean we couldn’t get a little… intimate when we have each other to ourselves.”

Her thumb lightly stroked Imelda’s hand, the simple gesture doing more to excite her than she’d ever expected. She suddenly realised they were both still bare past their navels, her pussy immediately throbbing at the thought.

The expression on MC’s face bore something soft, something tender. It was as if Imelda only now realised how utterly beautiful she was. She swiftly moved in at her own volition, and just like that their lips were moving together, tongues meeting in a delicious kiss. Imelda slipped a hand underneath MC’s sweater, lips curling at her being rewarded with a soft moan. She spent a few moments palming the naked flesh before moving in with her other hand. MC shivered as she was relieved of the garment, though she wasn’t afraid – not anymore.

Imelda cooed with delight as she drank in MC’s naked torso; the embroidery of scars etched into her abdomen and arms, and then her breasts, beautiful curves ending into pink nipples. She didn’t know what all the fuss had been about, MC looked fucking hot. She was barely able to contain herself as she bent over and pressed her face between MC’s tits, devouring them with a ravenous hunger. The girl threw her head back, whimpering as Imelda kissed and suckled on the tender flesh, taking one of her nipples between her teeth to tug at it.

The sounds MC was making shattered the last of her resolve. That was it, she had to feel her. Quickly pulling back to throw off her own shirt, Imelda rushed to return to MC’s warmth, letting out a relieved groan as their tits started rubbing together, bodies slick with sweat.

“So pretty,” she gasped, “so fucking pretty,”

MC smiled at her, bringing a hand around to pull her down into another feverish kiss. She brought up her hips, essentially locking Imelda in place as they continued rutting in their sweet embrace. It was pretty damn perfect. As she moved, Imelda imagined she could even slide into her own release if they kept going like this, though then her lust-fuelled mind conceived of a better idea.

Wrestling herself free, she sat upright as MC looked at her with questioning eyes. “Patience,” she smirked as she seized MC’s legs and started repositioning herself. It took her a while to find a satisfying configuration, but eventually she managed to bring herself into a good position, her aching cunt just inches away from MC’s.

A sigh of relief fell from her lips as their slick cores finally came together. She quickly started scissoring, their folds producing a series of increasingly wet sounds as they rubbed against each other. They quickly mixed with the moans and whines from the two girls, joining as one in their experience of nothing but pure bodily ecstasy.

Imelda was seeing stars. She’d always loved physicality, whether it was punishing her body during a Quidditch match or rubbing one out when she was feeling needy. This, however, this felt… amazing. It was as if she was experiencing MC in a whole new realm of pleasure, feeling everything from her frantic breath to the muscles moving underneath her damp skin to her clit brushing against her own –

As much as she had resisted the idea, she had to admit that making love did seem to have some benefits.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a particularly loud cry from MC. “M-Melly,” she whimpered, “c-close…”

Imelda, too, sensed her own climax approaching, waves of heat welling up from the place where they connected through their slick.

“Good girl,” she purred. “Come for me…”

It took just a few more ruts for MC to crash over the edge; her own release followed suit, arriving in a paralysing surge of pure pleasure that had her choke back a loud roar. She collapsed on top of MC, letting her head fall in the crook of her neck. MC held her close, whispering soothing words to her as she trembled with aftershocks.

After they had recovered from their respective mind-shattering orgasms, they settled into a spooning position, MC wrapping herself in Imelda’s embrace. They lay silently for a while, until MC spoke up: “So… how was that for you?”

“Still weird as hell, I’ll admit,” Imelda replied. “But I think I’m coming around.”

MC chuckled. “As long as we aren’t discussing feelings, clearly.”

“Hey, I was making an honest effort there, bitch.”

“I know.” MC turned to kiss her on the lips. “I love you, okay?”

“Uh-huh.” Imelda wrapped an arm around her, pulling her bare frame closer against her own. “Let’s go to sleep, I’m tired.”

Closing her eyes, MC prepared herself for her venture into nightly depths, enjoying the feeling of Imelda’s warm body. She’d surely have thought the Slytherin was fast asleep the moment she had gone silent, but then came Imelda’s voice: “MC?”

“Hm?”

“I love you too.”

[kuzure-collapse]

costars pining prompts

i have no time in college but too many fic ideas so i’m just gonna throw them together in short little prompts. feel free to make something of these

--

friends to costars to lovers or something, lowkey an actor au of my noritoshi x reader fic

-the kind of au where the actors have personalities opposite to their characters

-X and Y are friends who met in college, X is a stem student with no acting experience and Y is an enthusiastic theater kid

-maybe they met as freshmen in English poetry class? seatmates or class project partners, etc.

-X is initially disgusted bc ew theater kids are annoying, but eventually become friends

-visit each other's dorms often, hang out in school clubs and fitness classes, Y's amazed that X is so smart and good at many things

-X quiet and lonely tho, not good at making friends like Y, and always busy with school things

-the few things they have in common are their love for a certain show and the martial arts club they both join

-Y always makes sure to spar with X and gets pouty when X has to practice with other people, doesn't like them touching X. 

-They both become the strongest in the club and always get a meal after practice together. Y knows that X skips meals to make time for homework, so Y makes sure they eat. 

-X is usually reserved and people find them hard to approach, but X always laughs at Y's jokes. Y's surprised to find a funner side to X.

-Y starts coming to X's dorm in the evening to make sure they go to sleep in time, sometimes comes by on weekends with home-cooked lunch

-"You're busy with work? Don't worry, I can feed you!"

-X is the oblivious type, thinks Y is just friendly and nice to everyone like that. but they're close enough for Y to nap in X's bed while X works. 

-Spring semester rolls around and a casting call for a live action adaptation of their favorite show is on. Y catches wind and auditions, immediately getting the lead roll. director's still looking for someone to play the deuteragonist/love interest, so Y brings in X. they’re both decent enough at martial arts for an action movie

-"We're friends so we have good chemistry! X might not have acting experience, but they're good at a lot of things and a fast learner"

-They give X a chance and X actually makes the part. although not familiar with acting, X is good at memorizing lines and knows enough about the show to adlib in character. they're both excited to be acting in it for the summer, even if it doesn't relate to X's career ambitions in science

-X plays A, Y plays B. in the show, B is a stoic and aloof character who secretly pines for the carefree and mischievous A. A always jokingly flirts with B and Y likes to imagine it as X reciprocating Y's advances. now that they're acting together, they spend even more time with each other

-Y gives X pointers for learning lines and showing emotions in acting. they imitate aspects of each other when playing their characters. X and Y have been physically close during spars together before, but doing it when playing characters that eventually become a couple makes X feel some sort of way. brushes those feelings off. 

-eventually, it's almost time to film the kiss scene. X is concerned because they've never kissed before and don't want to ruin the scene. very perfectionist. the director says that the scene will probably be cut from the script so they don't have to worry about it. disappointed that more source material has to be cut (is that really the reason?)

-action! A is pinned to the tree and blindfolded during a team battle. they're been teasing and flirting with B, who they believe is the opponent. just like the original show, B silences A with a kiss.

-Wait, didn't the director say... X is confused, but doesn't break character. Maybe it's one of those things where they don't tell you what happens to get a genuine reaction... X thinks, and they're correct. just as like A, X is flustered and weak in the knees. i didn't know Y could kiss like that...do they have experience? almost a bit jealous?

-cut! sadly, the director's surprise was for naught, because the scene has to be done again. Y messed up or something oopsies, hope that doesn't happen again...

-Y keeps making small mistakes that ruin the scene, so they keep repeating the kiss. each time, X doesn't feel any less flustered, but they do enjoy it. directors call cut for the day.

-kissing practice?? maybe X thinks Y messed up because the kiss was bad, wants to improve. Y has been really helpful teaching other aspects of acting so far, this is just another lesson. Y is ecstatic when X asks for help. 

-hanging out in one's room alone, pin X's hands agains the wall as they close their eyes. reenact the scene. just before they kiss, Y whispers instructions to X on what to do, lips barely brushing each other. X's heart is pumping, wondering why this feels more intense than when they were on set

-maybe it's because they're alone together? X doesn't want to misinterpret things, but it feels good. doesn't know that it's because Y is getting flustered, too. Y kisses more deeply, wanting to make it real. loves seeing X's usually stoic face so awkward and dazed.

-"was I okay?"

-"I think you still need some practice."

[celestialmancer]

☁️ // 3:04 am, tbd ;

More low filter bs

Kind of wonder sometimes if I’d feel as much shame as I do towards rambling off abt nsfw ish or nsfw topics w my ocs or doing ramblings of that sort involving them if it weren’t for the… things I went through + the way I had to deal with being shamed due to the trauma responses I ended up with as a result of said experiences ig

& also if it hadn’t been for the ex friend of mine who was emotionally abusive to me for 4 years (i met her @ 13/14 & she was 21/22) & and anti-lgbt obsessive religious freak as well, seeing how she. Always was towards me about anything nsfw related? Like I remember she used to obsessively fixate on how engaging in any of those things meant you were disgusting & sinful & letting the devil influence you, & how anyone who wrote or hc’ed or drew or rp’ed nsfw stuff was ppl who were disgusting or sinful & “wasting their talent on things the devil wants”

Along w how. Victim blame-y she was w matters of sexual harassment or worse

(…which all those things were… the worst possible thing to be around given what i was going through w/ M & other freaks online at t the time that i wont elaborate on)

& just. Idk. I know that while ive mostly reprocessed everything w her & how she was to where it doesn’t rly phase me to talk abt anymore, it doesn’t change the impact it left on me where I guess it played a role in how i’ve like. Always seen myself whenever i do wanna muse on more nsfw stuff w my ocs or rp or create nsfw content w them (& well other things online that were ✨traumatic ✨ that i wont say just kinda fueled all that even worse along w bs from religion in general & also—from how ppl reacted to trauma responses i had )

Always there’s shame in sorta approaching that for this reason—mind you its not the only reason, there’s a lot more to it, but still

& ig that might be another factor why i struggle to feel comfortable w approaching anyone i trust for anything nsfw related w ocs? & just leave it to others to approach me instead if they want so that way i dont feel like im being viewed in some neg way that im not, all over tryna approach over something like that, ig

I p much need an explicit “u can approach me abt this anytime” type of deal wrt nsfw oc stuff or else i just simply do not 💀 once again w the “needs explicitly being told x thing is fine or invited to do x thing or else i will not” that follows me in a lot of things wfsvdg just general self suppression? Ig

(Now admittedly, again, there’s more reason to why i do that other than just religion & a lot of it is an intense fear of accidentally crossing a line & also coming off a bad way + like, other things, that are deeply personal, but still)

…Ironic that im that way considering the spaces i have w friends & all but yeah.

But still. Idk. Ig i just wonder if id struggle w feeling ‘dirty’ or w/e still if it hadn’t been for that connection—probably still would all other things considered bc, ik those dirty feelings also—came from how ppl viewed me over, certain… things i went through & responses to it… but, maybe to a lesser degree or something … idk.

Had more to say but it slipped my mind, so.

[trans-axolotl]

hi! I have a small psychiatry question? idk who to ask but I thought maybe u could give insight. I’m thinking about asking a new psychiatrist if they do med marijuana recs ..I’d ask over the phone first and see if I get an answer. I know any doctor can do it but I’m afraid that If I bring this up it could have negative consequences for me. I’ve heard people say never mention drug use to a psych. I wanted to go through a psych bc I’d prefer it over going through specialist that cost a lot. primary care doctor not an option either. do u think it’s worth a shot?… if this one doesn’t then I’d probably just ask other psychs which probably makes me look bad in their eyes but I have to find someone it’s so hard :(..

Hey anon!

You're going to be the expert on your situation and know all the different factors in play, but I can offer some things that I would consider before asking a psych for medical marijuana.

Are you at risk for psychiatric hospitalization? Have you been hospitalized in the past? Having weed usage on your record during psych hospitalization can sometimes make things worse in terms of the way doctors treat you, discharge planning, forced medication, etc.

Do you have a diagnosis like bipolar, BPD, or schizophrenia? if you have any diagnoses related to "impulsive behavior" or psychosis, psychiatrists get incredibly weird about it. I have a friend with schizophrenia who got hospitalized because she told her psych she was smoking again, and they considered that "high risk" because of the diagnoses on her record. I don't want to overexaggerate or scare you off, but want to flag that if you have any of those diagnoses, there are some additional concerns with disclosing weed usage.

Are there any situations in your life where you might need to share your medical record with people? For example court cases, at college for academic accommodations, certain jobs, immigration, etc. It can be good to think through what you want on the record. I know quite a few people who asked psychiatrists for medical marijuana and instead got a diagnosis of "substance use disorder" on their records, which caused them problems in other parts of their lives. It can be good to think through what that risk might look like for you.

If asking a psychiatrist is your only option, I totally get it. I think you have a really good plan to call and ask ahead before you're actually seeing them as a patient, so that you don't waste your time and also so that if they are going to be shitty about it, nothing gets officially written down. Some of my friends who have gotten their medical marijuana cards got it through telehealth with a random provider so that it wasn't really connected to the rest of their medical care, which might be something worth looking into. I've never gone through the process, so if any followers with relevant experience want to add on, please feel free!

Wishing you the best, anon, and I hope you're able to find a provider who will work with you!