#so like how is it so hard for people to grasp that this is a widespread issue

[lockandkeyblade]

First Rule of Ghost Fight Club

Several months ago the GiW, flush off the success of having the Anti-Ecto Acts passed– even if they had to hide it beneath several hundred adjustments to agricultural and infrastructure legislation– made a mistake.

Their little campaign of hatred was going well, maybe too well– so why not make it public? Why not grasp for a little more power, incite some torch and pitchforks? There were a dozen roads the stupid bastards could've taken, but they wanted the shortcut. The highway.

They decided that their next campaign against the ghosts would be to release several videos highlighting the utter destruction left in the wake of their fights. Show America there was something worth fighting on their hometurf. Make them angry. Make them vicious.

Jason figures they’d expected some backlash for it. There would've been a PR guy, or ten, or twenty, paid the big bucks just to sit around and consider it all. He'd interrupted enough board room meetings in his youth past life that he's got a pretty damn good idea of what to visualize; a bunch of white guys, forty plus, sitting around and deciding how people they did not know, understand, or give two fucks about were likely to receive this kind of news.

Ghosts were real, and terrible. The slogans were equally as bad, of course. And that wasn't on the PR team- that was on whatever dead-eyed millennial got paid way too little to give a fuck. Grandma can't cook you pies like she used to- she's too busy eating your soul. Little Timmy who fell down the well has taken one too many pointers from Samara Morgan. That kinda shit.

Someone was still gonna care about 'em. Someone was gonna call this inhumane. Someone would look into that Act and realize ghosts; talking, once-living people (some of 'em), had less rights than the average lab rat. Someone would start a protest.

The GiW would've thought about that and prepared for it. They must've felt invincible enough to chance it anyway, because they started uploading their 'documentaries' on the barbarity of ghosts online. Probably stroking their cliché ass moustaches and puffing cheap cigars all the while.

The fuckers would've expected all that. What they didn't expect, when blasting the world with their little softcore snuff vids, was how into it the world became.

Ghost fights? Were fucking badass.

And now the whole world knows it.

Gotham, especially, knows it. Gotham loves it. This was the kind of thing that was made to take over the nightlife of an already unhinged city; sports bars replacing football with the newest renditions of that one robot dude smacking down a couple of buildings, taking bets on what was gonna get him first– Danger Twink, Little Red Flying Hood, Morally Ambiguous Scientists, or The Man.

Proper names for each entity- and every other painfully stereotypical character involved- were hard to come by, initially. Most of those founding videos had the sound swapped out for the screams of children, flat voiceovers of scientists reminding the people that ghosts don't feel, so don't feel for them.

The bars played 'em on mute and blasted their own tunes over the top. Others had their own live MCs to commentate on the action. Robot dude got the name Gadget Goatee, the sweetass punk rock girl was On Fleek. The ghost seemingly addicted to boxes was Box Ghost. Names like that. When camera crews of reputable (and not so reputable) sports channels started sneaking into Amity Park, some names got adjusted. Some didn't.

The day pre-fight interviews began to happen was the day Jason seriously started considering why the Justice League hadn't gotten involved yet, enough to ease that question into conversation with Dickiebird. To sate his curiosity, no other reason. Turns out, Danger Twink had asked them not to. And the Justice League, full of some of the most anal and controlling people Jason has ever had the misfortune to meet, had listened to him. The petition signed by almost the entirety of Amity Park's population had probably helped.

Apparently, the city didn't want or need help. On the fighting front, at least. Nightwing is as in the dark for what, precisely, had been shared about why that was, but it was enough for Batman to raise the requirements for permission to be obtained by any hero wanting to go into Amity Park’s space– and for the rest of the founding members to approve them. 

JL's continued efforts to flatten the GiW and their miserable Anti-Ecto Acts had been cheerfully encouraged. Everything else, though? That was Danger Twink's problem. Or Phantom's joy, if you asked Jason's opinion on the matter. Not that anyone did.

The reality these days was that the government agency, high off their own fumes- as they often were- managed to fuck themselves right out of existence. And the ghosts? The ghost fights?

They were there to stay. Impressively contained within Amity Park with a startling level of confidence and control, all thanks to one girl on a hoverboard and a dead guy.

Place was even considered a chill place to visit, contrary to the continually televised property damage. The fights continued to maintain a level of popularity that was almost feverish, stealing their way into primetime television, spawning a couple dozen streaming services that would inevitably cannibalise themselves.

Oh, Jason could see the appeal of those fights. Hell, if he thought he could get away with it, he’d join ‘em. Sure, most of Gotham was into it for the more obvious reasons. Vicious mauling and extensive infrastructure repair that wasn't their problem, for once. Something new to bet on, some cool people (dead, alive, or never alive in the first place) to throw merchandise around for. The phenomenal amount of simping, the utterly batshit rule 34 that could be found online. A few ghost themed cocktails. All that good shit.

Jason just liked the sound.

He hadn't gotten into the videos until he could hear 'em, the ghosts themselves. It was something he kept to himself, seeing as- hey, no one else was mentioning it. His family was likely to think him insane again, so that was another deterrent. Nah, let folks think Red Hood enjoyed having that shit on in the background for...inspiration. Of the this might happen to the next person who crosses me variety.

But nah. He just, liked the sound.

It was like a secret concert, just for him. Some of those fights might as well be fucking operas. Full on musicals with a bit more green blood to 'em. Every ghost sang in a way Jason couldn't describe. There was a vibrato to it all, otherworldly and entrancing. A resonance that seemed to sink past his skin, right down to his soul.

They sing about obsession. They talk about what matters most to them, the parts of their unlife that are their beating hearts, their drive, their love. Every fight is an illicit fantasy, an almost embarrassing revelation of the people beneath the caricatures– Gotham sees neat fights, and Jason hears souls. 

It was simultaneously off-putting and addictive.

And fuck him sideways, but sometimes? The songs were kind of cute.

Especially the ones for Danger Twink. Most of the songs were for Danger Twink. Phantom, as he kept trying to tell the media, over and over again. The kid barely looked legal, though it was hard to tell when he was, y'know, six feet under. Brat could be 

Bruce's great grandpa several times over, for all he knew.

But he wasn't, if the songs were anything to go by. As far as the ghosts were concerned, this implied to be twenty year-old was, in ghost terms, baby. He was baby.

All the other ghosts knew it. All the other ghosts adored it. A solid fifty percent of the songs Jason could hear, day in, day out, were basically gooshy renditions of look at our small king. Our light. He has grown so much.

That Phantom’s response is usually the equivalent of mom please, you’re embarrassing me, as he makes a crater out of the earth with his opponent? Classic.

In a way, this whole shebang the world was addicted to was just a community trying to rear their child. Their potentially important child, or just important to them. Jason really didn’t know which way it was leaning, and it’s not like he could ask.

Really, he was just content to witness, maybe fantasize, a little, about what kind of songs they’d sing under his fists. What kind of song Phantom might sing, if Jason pinned him into the dirt.

One video changes that.

It’s a new one. Gotham is terribly excited by it; wherever Jason goes, he sees advertisements and hears people talking because– new ghost. New ghost. A new challenger approaches. The bars and the television companies keep any hints of who or what this late entry to the game might be, and it’s smart. Everybody’s talking about it. Fuck, even Tim is talking about it, and that little idiot hates the whole thing. Thinks it’s sickening that any being’s pain could be turned into sport.

Not that he’s wrong, just, y’know. No one’s really being hurt. 

Jason thinks he might also be… a little anticipatory. He’s gotten awfully familiar with the usual roster, their songs something that rattles off in his head throughout the day. He knows– heh. He knows what Phantom sings back to them. Intimately. Has that part memorized, and he’s not ashamed to admit it.

He wants to hear Phantom sing about something new. That’s what’s exciting.

It’s exciting right up until he’s slouched down at a bar, eyes fixed to the screen and the cheers of the crowd around him drowned out by a tune that turns his blood to ice, stirs up something that’s been quiet in him for years, until his eyes flash green.

Because the new ghost doesn’t want to play with Phantom. He wants to own him. Like a dog. With discordant notes that sound like laughter, high pitched and crazed, like a metal pipe slamming into his face, over and over again–

And Phantom is defiant, glorious, powerful.

Afraid.

Jason doesn’t remember getting onto his bike, but as he heads east, he knows exactly where he’s going. Fuck permission, fuck the Justice League, and fuck Phantom for trying to handle that sort of shit on his own.

He doesn’t know how he’s gonna do it, but this Plasmius guy? Is about to learn what it’s like to die. For the second time.

[strnilolover]

٠ ࣪⭑ prince!matt has something special planned for darling

valentine’s day special!

warnings : none! this is very sweet and fluffy

valentine's day was something everyone in the castle celebrated. maids, servants, people from the town—even matts own parents.

he wasn't against this holiday at all, he loved it. and often wished he could give his love to someone too but, his parents were set on him being with someone of noble standards.

since matt never really had a reason to celebrate valentine's day, seeing as he never had anyone to celebrate the day with. he always watched other couples from a distance—how in love they looked and gifts that were bought for their significant other.

but now...now he had a reason to celebrate this day.

darling.

sure, in everyone's eyes, she was just his personal maid. but they didn't know what went on behind closed doors. all the stolen kisses, hugs and intimate affection happening right under all their noses and they had no clue.

he wanted to make this day special—even if she already knew how much she meant to him. he always wanted to remind her, that no one else had his heart except for her. not even the girl he was being forced to marry.

with his mind set and plans already put into place, matt moved swiftly through the halls that were decorated with roses and flowers. his shoes clicking against the floor as he made his way towards his bedroom where he's sure darling already was, tidying up his space or doing his laundry.

once he approached the door, his hands quietly pushed it open. slipping inside and closing it with a soft *click* behind him. sure enough, darling was standing over at his desk—tidying his mess he had made.

he smiled, watching her relaxed frame move swiftly as she did her job, which she was so incredibly good at. slowly, he moved towards her. his hands coming to wrap around her waist and pull her back flush against his chest.

"darling." he murmured, pressing his face in the space where her shoulder and neck met, his lips peppering light kissed along her skin. she smiled softly, her arms coming up to wrap around his own. "matt." she greeted in return, turning her head slightly to allow him more room.

matt didn't linger on her neck for long, giving a few more pecks before pulling away and turning her around in his grasp. when his head tipped down, eyes landing on her face, he couldn't help but to smile more. "i have some things planned for us today, my love." he said, pulling her even closer to him.

darlings brows furrowed. "plans? what plans?" she asked softly, her own head tipping up to look into his eyes. matt smirked, flashing her his teeth. it was hard to keep things from her—but he wanted this to be special.

slowly he pulled away, unwrapping his arms from around her to reach down and grab her hands. "you'll see, darling." he whispered, already beginning to walk backwards, tugging her along. but she stopped. "matt, i still have—“

"shh, your work can wait until later. i'm not taking no for an answer." he said, cutting her words off, continuing to tug her backwards and this time she followed—giving up on trying to argue with him. when they reached the door, he let her hands go, opening the wooden doors and turning his head to look at her.

"follow me, baby."

-

darling thought she knew the palace like the back of her hands—but obviously not. she walked right beside matt, her brows furrowing and eyes wide with curiosity.

“matt, where are you taking me?” she asked, reaching her hand up to tug on his sleeve to get his attention. matt just smiled, looking at her out the corner of his eyes. “you’ll see darling. we’re almost there.” and he quickly grabbed her hands, smirking before bolting down the hall.

darling stumbled over her feet before settling into a sprint with him. she laughed, the sound mingling with matt’s own. “matt!” she giggled, holding his hand tighter as she continued to run with him.

he peered at her over his shoulder, smiling and laughing as he tugged her along. eventually, they made it to their destination—slipping in through the doors quickly. darling’s chest rose and fell rapidly, quickly trying to catch her breath from running.

eventually when her breathing evened out, she straightened, peering around the unfamiliar room that she was standing in. a grand mirror stood in front of her—so many fabrics and clothing lining the room. she was speechless.

“matt? where..where are we?” she asks, turning to look at him, watching as he talked to a female she didn’t even notice. darling stood there, watching as matt got a last word in before turning his attention to her.

matt smiled at her, walking over to stand behind her. his hands coming up to her shoulders, slowly moving his fingers into the tenseness of her back. “this is for you. go follow her and you’ll see.” he whispered against her ear, moving a hand up to brush her hair to the side—pressing a kiss to her neck.

darling has never worn something as luxurious as she is right now. not even at the ball she attended with him one time.

she stood before the grand mirror—the lady she followed a bit ago had her draped in the most stunning gown she had ever laid eyes on. the fabric was a soft blue, flowing like water over her body, cinching at the waist before cascading into an elegant skirt. delicate beading across her chest and following down to the fabric covering her thighs.

her hands slowly smoothed over her own body, her eyes not believing what she was seeing. she looked beautiful. no—stunning.

matt stood behind her, watching her expression closely, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle at the dress she had on. he had spent weeks planning this, ensuring that every detail was perfect. that everything was perfect just for her—for his girl.

darling caught matt’s gaze in the mirror, smiling as she picked up the bottom softly and turned herself around to face him. “you- what is this for?” she asked, her face was flushed—she felt nervous being in something so expensive.

matt just grinned, bringing a hand up and beckoning her forward. “c’mere, i have something else for you darling.” he said, and she raised a brow, now noticing one of his hands behind his back. she took a tentative step forward, making sure to not trip over her own feet in the heels she was wearing before walking over to stand in front of him.

“this-“ he started, pulling out a delicate tiara from behind his back. darling gasped, watching the way the jewels hit the lighting in the room. he reached out, placing the tiara on top of her head gently. “-this is for you, my love.”

darling’s breath hitched as his fingers lingering in her hair for just a moment too long. finally dropping his hands, he grabbed her waist, spinning her around toward the mirror. even if she was away from it—she could see the beauty of the accessory that was placed on her.

“matt…” she whispered, her own hands coming up to gently graze the shape of the tiara. matt rested his chin against her shoulder, watching as she took herself in. “do y’like it darling?” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the skin her dress showed off. “look so beautiful—like a queen. my queen.”

darlings chest tightened at his words, her fingers still ghosting over the delicate tiara as she met matt’s gaze in the mirror. he looked so proud, so full of adoration that it made her heart thump against her chest rapidly. slowly, she turned in his hold, resting her hands lightly against his chest. “I don’t even know what to say…” she whispered, overwhelmed by the effort he had put into all of this—for her.

matt just smiled, brushing his knuckles against her cheek before leaning down to kiss her softly. she reciprocated, her hands tightening against the fabric of his clothes before he pulled away. gently, he took her hand, intertwining their fingers and giving a gentle tug like he did earlier. “come on, there’s one more surprise,” he said softly.

darling followed without hesitation, the flowing fabric of her dress whispering around her ankles as matt led her through the winding halls. when they reached a side entrance she had never seen before, matt pushed open the door, and the moment they stepped outside, a crisp breeze greeted them, carrying with it the scent of freshly baked pastries and rich, decadent chocolate.

darlings eyes widened as she took in their destination—a quaint, tucked-away bakery, the windows glowing warmly against the cool evening air. a string of fairy lights adorned the entrance, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone path leading to the door.

“matt…” she breathed, turning to look at him.

he grinned, slipping his hand from hers and resting them on her waist. “let’s get inside darling, alright?” and she beamed, nodding her head excitedly as she practically began to sprint to the entrance, dragging matt.

matt chuckled, gripping her hips tightly as they approached the doors, holding her still. she gave a quiet whine, turning to look at matt as if he just took away a delicious treat from her—and he basically did. “darling, it’s okay, let me just-“ he muttered, moving to stand in front of her as his hand grabbed the door handle, opening the door for her.

the moment they stepped inside, a wave of warmth wrapped around them, accompanied by the heavenly aroma of sugar and spice. the bakery was empty—save for a soft-spoken woman behind the counter who greeted matt with a knowing smile. clearly, he had arranged this in advance.

candles flickered on a private table set for two near a fireplace, a delicate bouquet of roses resting in the center. a plate of heart-shaped pastries and a pot of tea awaited them. darling turned to matt, her voice hushed. “you… you did all of this?”

matt smiled as he brushed his fingers against hers, lacing them together. “of course I did. you deserve the best, darling.”her heart melted as she lowered her gaze, letting him guide her to her seat. and slowly, matt reached for a small pastry and held it up to her lips, his expression softening.

“try it. I made sure they put extra honey in it—just how you like.” he stated, holding the soft treat to her mouth. darling’s eyes softened as she took a bite, the sweetness of the pastry nothing compared to the love in Matt’s gaze. she swallowed, shaking her head in awe.

“this is the best valentine’s day ever.”

a/n : listen ik it’s a month late…im sorry forgive me. but here’s some prince matt FINALLY!

[blushsturns]

omg ok so chris js posted an insta story w pussy power as the song and the hey party people thing so js hear me out.. wll u PLEASE write something like oh they smashed and then he posted that afterwards or somethinggggg

title: p power

word count: 950

warnings: this contains explicit content and portrays rough sex, but it is all consensual. dom!chris, daddy kink, unprotected p in v, breeding, slight degrading, dirty talk, pure filth.

He thrusted into you relentlessly from behind, grasping a fistful of your hair, your ass clapping back against him. The sounds of your skin making contact echoed the four walls around you. 

You loved when he was rough with you during sex, especially when he left you in tears in the absolute best way. He fucked you way too good, his cock filling you up completely to the point where your brain short circuited and allowing him to use you as his own personal rag doll. He could throw you around however he wanted, fuck you completely and utterly dumb until you couldn’t walk straight. You loved that shit.

“Atta girl, ma. Taking my cock like such a good little slut. That’s it. Take this cock.” His words were filthy, filled with lust and desire. He released your ponytail roughly, causing your head to dip down into the mattress, your ass pushing out into him as he continued to thrust mercilessly into you.

Your pussy swallows him fully, your slick arousal coating his cock as he slides out of you only to thrust back into you fully, the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix. “Oh, fuck! I’m gonna cum!” Your moans were muffled with your face in the sheets, your ass pressing back against him repeatedly.

He grabbed your ass cheeks and squeezed onto the flesh hard enough to create bruises behind, causing you to moan even louder into the bed sheets. You let out a gasp when he delivers harsh smacks to your ass cheeks, your body spasming with pleasure. You felt his balls slapping against your clit with each and every hard thrust against you. 

You let out a string of profanities and moans, shivers running down your spine and electricity coursing throughout your veins, your orgasm beginning to take over your body. 

“Yes, that’s it. Cum on this cock like a good little whore.” He grunted out his words, his fingers digging into your flesh for leverage as he continues to pound into your quivering hole. 

His words and the combination of his balls slapping against your clit and his cock buried deep inside of you sent you over the edge entirely as your pussy begins to spasm around his cock, milking him dry in the process as your gummy walls clench around his cock, coating his cock with loud moans echoing the four walls before you. Your head tilted to the side against the bed, biting onto the bed sheets to try and contain your moans, but it was impossible with how intense your orgasm was. Your face was stained with tears and smudged mascara, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. Your body shudders as you rock out your orgasm, looking back at him with desperation filling your gaze. “Cum inside me, daddy. Please. Need to feel you fill me up.” 

He moaned in satisfaction to your words before allowing a soft growl to emit from the back of his throat, slamming into you a couple more times with your tits bouncing with each thrust, feeling your slick arousal coating his cock and clenching around him fully as he lets out a deep, long groan, his hips stilling as he releases his entire load deep inside of your tight pussy. 

Chris groans as he fills you up to the brim, your legs shaking from the immense pleasure rolling through you as your knees almost give out onto the bedsheets below you. He grips your ass tightly, his breathing labored. “Fuck, ma. Such a good pussy for me.”

You look back at him with tired eyes, completely and utterly fucked out as you flash him a small smile. “Love when you fill me up, daddy.” You cooed out, a soft giggle emitting from your lips.

He flashes you a slight smirk, slowly pulling his cock out of your spent hole and watching as his cum mixed with your arousal seeps out of your now aching (but well worth it) pussy. He watches in awe and groaning in satisfaction as he watches the cum spill out of your hole and beginning to drip down your legs.  

You let out a low moan as you feel the cum spilling out of you and finally collapse onto the bed, your legs still shaking and your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “Fuck, Chris.” You breathed out, your head now resting comfortably against the bedsheets as you stare back at him. 

“Feel good, ma? You can always count on me to make sure you’re well taken care of, in every single way.” He flashes you a wink before going over to the bathroom to grab a washcloth to clean you up before throwing it into the wastebasket. 

“Mmph, can’t move.” You say tiredly, another soft laugh leaving your lips. You eventually manage to move your body to sit up against the pillows, placing the blanket around yourself. You watch as Chris grabs his phone and begins to take a picture of himself with his hoodie up and posting it on his Instagram story. “Chris what are you-”

You stop mid-sentence as he displays the screen in front of you, his face coming into view, the caption reading “Hey party people” with the song “P Power” from Gunna featuring Drake attached to it. You look over at him, raising your eyebrow before allowing a soft giggle to emit from your lips. “Chris, really?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a chuckle erupting from his throat. “Hey, I could’ve let my Instagram followers know how good I just fucked the shit out of my girl, but I chose this instead.”

You wouldn’t have minded either way, not at all.

notes: thank you for the request! if you have any more requests, or just want to chat, don't hesitate to reach out. :)

taglist: @strangelife122 @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos @moustacherryismyhusband @rcameronlova1 @ivysturnss @headzgonewest @il0vey0um0st @violetstxrniolo777 @bigbeefybitch @raesturns @courta13 @sofieeeeex @tylerthecreatorsglazr @kittyyyyykats @sturniszn @estellesdoll @freshsturnzx @ivyyyyyysposts @sturnberries @harls-sturn @whore4chris

-nessa

[sturnsblogs]

PROMISE. -C.S

WARNINGS- S/H mentions, Scar mentions, crying, a lot of angst. but it’s also fluff. THERE ARE MENTIONS OF S/H and not wanting to BE HERE ANYMORE.

The weight of the world sits heavy on your chest, pressing down until it’s hard to breathe. You’re only seventeen, but it feels like you’ve already lived a lifetime of pain. People always say, you have your whole life ahead of you, like it’s supposed to be comforting. Like it’s supposed to make everything better. But what they don’t understand is that the future doesn’t feel like a promise—it feels like a burden.

School is just another battlefield. The whispers, the stares, the way people dismiss you like you don’t matter. Every little comment, every time they look right through you, it chips away at you, piece by piece, until you feel like there’s nothing left. Some days, you wonder how much more of yourself you can lose before there’s nothing to salvage. And no matter how much Chris tries to convince you otherwise, no matter how many times he tells you their words don’t define you, it never seems to sink in. You want to believe him. You want to hold on to the things he says. But when you’re alone, when the room is silent and all you can hear is the echo of everything you hate about yourself, his words feel so distant. Like they were never meant for you.

Chris has seen you at your worst. He’s been through it all with you—the breakdowns, the nights you didn’t think you’d make it to morning. He was there the night you sat on your bathroom floor, staring at the pills in your hand, your whole body trembling as your thoughts spiraled into something dark, something dangerous. He was the one who found you, the one who knocked them out of your grasp, his voice breaking as he begged you not to leave him. Please, baby, please… just stay. He held you that night like his life depended on it, whispering over and over that you weren’t alone, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

And tonight, it feels like history repeating itself. You sit on the floor beside your bed, knees pulled to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself like you’re trying to hold yourself together. The room is dark except for the dim glow from the streetlights outside, casting long shadows across the walls. Your head is heavy, your thoughts even heavier. You don’t even realize Chris is there until he crouches in front of you, his presence grounding, steady.

He doesn’t speak right away. He just watches you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes say everything. They’re soft, filled with something deeper than concern—something raw, something unshakable. Then, slowly, he reaches out, his fingers brushing through your hair before he cradles your face in his hands, tilting your head up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

“What’s on your mind, beautiful girl?” His voice is quiet, careful, like he’s afraid if he speaks too loud, you’ll slip away.

You want to answer. You want to tell him everything, but the words don’t come. They sit in your throat, trapped behind the lump that refuses to go away. You just look at him, eyes wide, glassy, overflowing with emotions you don’t know how to express.

Chris sees it. He always does. He lets out a soft breath, shifting so he can sit beside you, his back against the bed frame. Then, without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest. His warmth surrounds you, and for the first time in hours, you feel like you can breathe.

You let yourself sink into him, pressing your face against the fabric of his hoodie, inhaling the familiar scent of him—cologne, faint traces of cigarettes, something distinctly Chris. His arms tighten around you, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other resting on your back, rubbing slow, comforting circles.

“You know something?” he murmurs after a while, his lips brushing the top of your head. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

You let out a shaky breath, barely shaking your head. “I’m not strong, Chris…”

He tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “Yes, you are,” he insists, his voice firm but gentle. “You’ve been through hell, and you’re still here. You’re still fighting, even when you feel like you can’t. That’s strength. That’s the strongest thing anyone can do.”

You swallow hard, his words settling deep in your chest, filling the cracks you thought would never heal. “I don’t always feel strong,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chris nods, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “That’s okay. I’ll be strong for you when you can’t be.”

His words hit something deep inside you, something fragile, something that has been aching for so long. You close your eyes, gripping onto his hoodie as if he’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” you whisper, barely audible.

Chris pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands again, his thumbs tracing gentle lines along your jaw. “Then let me help you,” he pleads, his voice thick with emotion. “Let me be here for you. I don’t care how dark it gets, how hard it gets—I’m not leaving. Ever.”

Tears spill down your cheeks, but for the first time, they don’t feel like they’re drowning you. They feel like release. Like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to carry all of this alone.

Chris wipes them away with the pads of his thumbs, shaking his head softly. Then, his hands move, slowly, hesitantly, reaching for your wrists. You flinch, instinctively trying to pull back, but he doesn’t let you. He holds them gently, turning them over so your scars—old and new—are visible beneath the dim light.

You can’t look at him. Shame washes over you, thick and suffocating. But Chris doesn’t let go.

His fingers trace over the marks with heartbreaking tenderness, as if he’s memorizing them, as if he wants to erase every ounce of pain that put them there. Then, he lifts one of your wrists to his lips, pressing the softest kiss against the skin.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. “Beneath these scars, above them, through every single one—I love you. They don’t change that. They don’t change you.”

Your breath catches.

Chris meets your eyes, his gaze steady, unshaken. “You are not what you’ve been through. You are not your pain. You are not broken, and you are not unlovable. You are everything. And I will spend every single day reminding you of that if I have to.”

A sob breaks free from your chest, and Chris doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you in, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like you are the most precious thing in the world to him.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “You never have to do this alone. I’m right here, and I will always be right here.”

You grip onto him tighter, fingers curling into his hoodie. “Promise?”

Chris tilts your chin up again, eyes burning with sincerity. “With everything in me.”

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe him.

A/N- This is really really cute (:

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @mylittled0ve @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt

TAGLIST FOR MASTERLIST

[velvet-apricots]

Wip Wednesday

Stopped telling myself I wasn't up to writing and just started forcing myself a bit, and some things managed to flow out of my fingertips. So here it is, Emmrich freaking out and leaving when a Warden!Rook tells him she is pregnant.

Poor man is under a lot of stress not many people know about. It was sadly the straw to make him finally crack. Hope yall like angst. =)

Gonna tag @crimsen-khalessi and @redheadsramblings cause they encouraged me to try. ty. you got me out of my funk a bit. =)

“You said you couldn’t-“ “I know.” “How?” “Evka and Antoine agreed the blight was changing. Maybe it's… it's part of that. Or maybe I just got lucky… “ “Lucky…” Emmrich echoed the word, his voice was pinched and strained from behind her. Rook rubbed her arm. “It's not impossible. Just really, really hard… I’m sorry. I should have let you take precautions.”  She took a deep breath, calming herself, “But it’s okay. We can… We can figure this out. It’s a miracle after all.” He was silent.  “I know that you are older, and I am a warden… We don’t have very long. But I think-” She paused speaking, swallowing nervously. Why wasn’t he saying anything at all? She turned to look at him. “Emmrich-?“ she froze.  He was pale, sweating, his hands shaking as he looked ahead vacantly. He had been like that after Weisshaupt. He was having a panic attack. Her stomach dropped, queasiness taking hold of her. That wasn’t how he was supposed to react. She slowly stepped closer to him.  “Emmrich? Please don't shut me out. Talk to me.“ she touched his shoulder. Emmrich’s eyes snapped into focus, looking at her. The panic became visible on his face as he stood, eyes wide and pupils pinpricks as he swallowed several times as if fighting the urge to vomit. “I need to go.” Rook reached for him again, trying to stay calm. “Emmrich I-“ Usually he found comfort in being touched, but this time he shied away from her hand, brushing past her for his coat rack. He was in full flight mode, his hands fumbling for his things.  Rook’s eyes started aching. No this was all going wrong. This was supposed to be a miracle. He was supposed to be happy, like Harding said. She rushed over to him, grabbing his arm as she started pleading with him. “Emmrich, don’t leave! I need you to help me-“ He yanked his arm out of her grasp, hands in the air like she was some foul thing. “Stop! Just- I need- I have to leave. I can’t be here.” He did not even pull his coat on, holding it under his arm as he strutted out of his room. Rook followed him down the hall that linked his room to the lighthouse library. “Emmrich, please wait-!“ “I can’t do this, Rook.” he snapped over his shoulder. She froze in shock as his footsteps faded. What was the “this” he was speaking of? Being the fade expert? Being here? Being with her?  Was he leaving her?  Was he going to come back?  What about their baby?

[rarepairdumpster]

Regency AU Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Trans Viktor, Societal Trans- and Homophobia, Insecurity, A+ Trans Ally Silco, Trans Pregnancy, D/S Dynamics, Spanking

Viktor's belly starting to show and he starts to cover it more with his robe or blankets. 

Lets Silco touch his arms or his legs but shies away when he goes near his torso.

It makes Silco frown...but he doesn't comment on it. He can understand how difficult this is, how it must affect how Viktor sees himself

Silco walks up behind Viktor while he's staring out a picture window overlooking their newly acquired property. 

Silco grasps Viktor's upper arms and kisses his temple. 

"Every day I wonder what I've done to deserve you," Silco hums.

Viktor doesn't know why, but the words make his eyes prickle and he feels....angry.

Not at Silco.

Just...angry

Silco can feel Viktor bristle and pulls his face away, but keeps hold of his arms. 

"What is it, Darling?"

Viktor shrugs and doesn't otherwise answer. His lips purse and he blinks through the sting, feeling tears slip down his face.

Silco sees the tears in Viktor's faint reflection

Silco gently turns Viktor around to face him, then reaches up to wipe Viktor's tears away with his thumb. 

"Do you want to be alone?"

"No...well," Viktor takes a sharp breath, "I don't know. Everything feels like too much and not enough. I knew my body would change but..."

"But...?" Silco's voice is soft and encouraging

"I never really expected to feel like I was losing my mind as well," Viktor admits, giving a sad chuckle. "Sometimes I want to hate you for doing this to me and other times I feel like my heart will burst out of my chest at the sight of you coming through the doorway." 

Viktor shakes his head. "I sound absolutely insane."

Silco has to stifle a chuckle.

"You sound pregnant." Silco smiles then, fond and understanding. He gives Viktor's upper arms a firm squeeze. "I've heard tales of people throwing jugs at their husbands under circumstances like these. I've heard of fingers broken under the stress of roadside labour. These....physical and emotional responses...are only natural."

"And you always being so calm and logical," Viktor slams a fist on Silco's chest firmly, but not enough to hurt. "I almost want you to be upset at my ridiculousness."

Silco arches a brow and his expression turns severe.

"Oh, I can provide discipline, if it's required."

Viktor's breath hitches and he feels his whole body flush at Silco's tone. 

Silco wraps his hand around Viktor's slight wrist, gripping harder than he would normally. 

"Do you need me to teach you how to behave?"

"Y-yes."

"Very well." Silco turns on his heel and heads for the chaise lounge, pulling Viktor after him. Silco takes a seat and spreads his knees wider than he might for a usual spanking. "Over my knee, boy. Now." 

Viktor has the sudden realisation that Silco means to spank him.

Like a misbehaving child.

Viktor's flush intensifies and he feels that familiar rush of wetness between his legs.

But he gets himself situated with help from Silco, his growing belly cradled between Silco's thighs.

Men's clothes aren't designed for pregnancy, so Viktor has to wear dresses until its over, and Silco's hikes his skirts up with a rough hand.

Silco grabs one of Viktor's cheeks a little forcefully, squeezing hard enough to leave marks that linger a few seconds. 

"I've been trying to be understanding, but if you're going to act like a petulant child, I'll treat you as one."

Viktor whines. 

Squirms a little on his lap.

"Be still," Silco orders, tone harsh as his hand moves to grab Viktor's hip, pinning him in place.

Before Viktor can stop himself, he blurts "Why should I?"

Silco strikes Viktor's bare ass with a sharp, open handed slap, causing him to still.

"Are you going to listen now?"

Viktor shivers. His cheek stings, but the heat between his legs intensifies. He can feel the slick beginning to slip down his thighs. And Viktor wants to say no, wants Silco to hit him again.

"Good boy," Silco purrs, soothing his hand over where he slapped Viktor.

"For that outburst, I think you deserve five strikes. I expect you to count them with me. Understood?"

"Yes," Viktor mutters, face hot. He tacks a Sir on as an afterthought

Silco rears his hand back, flattening out his palm.

"One."

Silco brings his hand down sharply, the crack echoing throughout the room. Viktor whimpers a little but manages to say One quickly.

Silco continues, giving Viktor a few moments between each number to recover slightly. 

Viktor's legs start to tremble at Three, but his voice remains relatively steady.

At Four, Viktor's voice shakes, and Silco can hear sniffling. 

"One more, darling," Silco reminds him, a little softer than his previous tone. "Five."

Viktor cries out a little when Silco strikes him, but says a shaky Five.

The next thing Viktor knows, he's curled up in Silco's arms while Silco kisses his face and hair, murmuring, "There we are, my darling. All over. That wasn't so bad, was it?" 

Viktor shakes his head but his ass throbs. His core throbs almost in time with it. He knows this was meant to be a punishment and it hurts like one. Viktor doesn't understand why he also feels good.

"I'm going to take you to the bedroom," Silco says, stroking Viktor's cheek with his thumb, "There, I'll put some ointment on you, after which you will take a long rest, alright?"

"Yes, Sir. Husband. Silco."

The words come out in a confused, but earnest rush.

And Silco can't help the swell of fondness

"Good boy," Silco gives Viktor a chaste kiss before tucking his arm under Viktor's knees. 

Silco manages to lift Viktor as he stands he's very glad Viktor is slight and carries him to the bedroom.

He sets Viktor on the soft linen sheets, then makes sure to keep hold of his hand as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls a tin out of a drawer in the side table. 

Viktor moans in appreciation when Silco starts to rub the ointment into his raw and sensitive skin.

Viktor ends up sleeping for about 6 hours.

The longest bout of sleep he's gotten in a while.

Silco checks on him from time to time, but otherwise keeps himself occupied with work. He instructs the kitchen staff to prepare a late supper and promises to compensate them for the overtime.

Viktor is sore when he wakes, but still feels more rested than he had since before he was with child. 

He grabs his cane and carefully makes his way to Silco's study, where his husband is pouring over papers at his desk. 

Silco looks up when he sees Viktor in the doorway and smiles, setting aside what he was looking at. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Achy, but....better." Viktor smiles. "Starving, though." 

"You're in luck." Silco stands  and moves towards him. "Supper should be just about done."

Just as he says the words, a little bell above the door jingles, alerting them that supper is ready

"I had a feeling you would rest a while, so I had it postponed," Silco explains, escorting Viktor to the dining hall. 

When they arrive, Silco pulls Viktor's chair out for him, and it already has an extra cushion. 

Viktor chuckles a little when he sees it. "Ah, thank you for that."

"Your care isn't just a priority," Silco answers, voice low and sincere, "it's a pleasure." 

His hands are warm and strong when they come to rest on Viktor's shoulders once he takes a seat.

Viktor reaches up to hold Silco's wrist and closes his eyes, brushing his face against Silco's arm. 

"You knew just what I needed."

"A job I take seriously," Silco murmurs, leaning down and kissing his hair. "I'll be quicker to provide such specialized care in the future."

Arch + Woods

[glitterandwitchcraft]

🔮 Do you want to get into dream divination? 🔮

It can be tricky especially trying to force yourself to remember your dreams and every little detail. I've been doing this for my whole life (my parents and their parents and so on view dreams as potential messages from the ancestors and/or god) so I have a few tricks to help you get started!

You don't need to force yourself to remember everything or anything at all. If there is something important, you will remember it upon waking.

At first, picking out what is just the product of electrified goo resting and messages will be really hard. Not everything in your dream has a meaning and not every dream has a message.

Once you start getting the hang of it, while you dream you will get a certain feeling when something happens and that's how you know that it's important for your waking life. For me, the feeling when faced with a symbol or message is when you recognize someone strongly but can't place them or remember anything about them.

If you tell people that you do this, they will 100% message you about all their dreams they think may hold meaning expecting you to decipher every little aspect. This is fun a lot of times but just learn boundaries and such as it can become frustrating trying to do everything in your daily life plus figure out a highly personal message for someone else.

Don't rely on standardized meanings for everything. Some things have different personal meanings for you. If it's your own dream, your feelings and attachments to that thing ALWAYS apply before a standardized meaning does. For example, I've always loved keys. I used to go look for random keys all the time as a kid. Traditionally a key means there's something you need to unlock or find. For me, a key would represent childlike wonder, curiosity, holding onto something, finding something, or taking something.

Get a notebook or a physical dream dictionary so you can write down the symbols and the dates they occurred. Doing this can help you figure out if there's repeating themes. Repeating themes could indicate that you are not taking proper action, you aren't seeing the message correctly, that it isn't a symbol at all and just something your brain likes to dream about, or you have a repeating stressor in your life.

Be prepared for tons of resources to use heavily gendered and mystical definitions. If a definition/meaning does not connect with you then don't use it as it does not apply to you.

There are a ton of scam websites when you first start looking. And there are a bunch that just plagiarize from other websites (literally copy and paste word for word). If you need help deciphering what something means, I recommend getting a grasp on what if means to you and what you felt in the dream when you came across it before having to go through 1,000 sources to help you further.

Most people who do dream divination are more than happy to assist you in breaking down meanings. Feel free to send me a message at any time!

Not all symbols are applicable at the time of reception. The more complicated the meaning or message, usually the longer until you need it. The universe, spirits, God, whatever you believe is giving you the message, should be giving you plenty of time to figure out what something means and being able to use it before the message is needed. Don't stress yourself out by thinking your life is going to be a chaotic disaster tomorrow because you dreamed of swimming in big waves in a storm. You have time.

As with any divination, the future is always subject to change with any action you take. And never use divination for health matters and the like.

[lakesbian]

the real question is how old do we think jessie was when she realized everyone else was a dipshit idiot compared to her. how many weeks old was jessie when she learned that the average person just Forgets things. i do think this was not intuitive to her and she thought everyone was just playing dumb to be annoying assholes and fuck with her for like. a SIGNIFICANT period of time at first. and then she learned that they werent kidding and genuinely had this completely foreign mode of thought where things enter their brain and then just magically leave and you can tell them something over and over again and they still won't know it. thats kind of crazy to think about, right? like, the concept of 'forgetting' and 'remembering' was not going to be intuitive to jessie. all she knew was remembering. remembering is her default state. she had to learn that everyone else had a dysfunction she didn't, this hard-to-grasp concept where things go into their heads and then don't stay there (for what reason??), and that it's called Forgetting. and that Forgetting is the default state, and she alone Remembers. genuinely is it any wonder she seems to think she's better than people? is it any wonder she so confidently declares that she Knows sy in this way that places her above him? she is above him. she is above everyone else. everyone else's attempts to learn are just grasping at what she does as naturally as breathing. it's such an interesting character concept i cant stop rotating it in my mind. her pov is so fascinating to imagine

[scandinavianfairytale]

And so we pray

Pairing: ex Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Tony dies in this, betrayal, plotting of a revolt, planning to over-throw the Hydra goverment

A/N: Part 1 😁

You sighed as you laid on the roof of the building that you called home and HQ for the past seven months. Laying the ground work after the epic betrayal was hard. Harder than anything you experienced as an ex-Shield agent.

Up until that moment Steve Rogers turned into Captain Hydra, right before your eyes.

Closing your eyes, you could still see that moment. As if it’s burned into your head.

Everything went exactly as planned and now the world was safe.

"We won Steve." You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him with excitement. He held you close, smiling into the kiss.

"Guys, something's wrong..." Tony's voice broke your kiss. Stepping away from Steve and coming to Tony's side, you glanced at the computer screen. The previously disabled guns were now activating again.

"How is this happening, didn't we overwrite the system?"

"We did, Steve-" The sentence was cut off when a blade pierced his abdomen. Your horrified gaze settled on Steve and for a second, time stood still as you tried to wrap your head around what was happening. Tony fell on the floor, blood pouring out of his wound and mouth, but still no words left your mouth.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Doll." Steve smirked and cupped your trembling face. You blinked rapidly, flinching away from his touch, but still refusing to process what was happening.

"Y-you need to r-run." Tony stammered only to be kicked by your boyfriend.

"You're not going to run, are you? It's me. Captain America. Steve. I would never hurt you." The smile that was once so sweet turned twisted before your eyes and suddenly you were left wondering how you could've fallen for the man standing in front of you.

His hands seized you, his touch burning and you trashed in his grasp, slapping at his torso as panic enveloped your body. This was the person that set morals for the whole nation. This was the man that you put your faith into. This was Steve...the one man you trusted. And it was all a lie. A ruse. A mask for what he really was.

Captain Hydra.

Grabbing at your watch and pressing on the crown of your watch a shock fork shot out, lodging in Steve's arm. He released you as high voltage made him freeze and you stumbled away from him. You knew you only had a few seconds. Quickly glancing at Tony, you willed yourself to keep running, already knowing he was beyond saving. Running to the terrace and jumping off, you pulled on the belt loop which shot out a hook cable to keep you from falling. The second your feet touched the ground, you were sprinting away, tears burning your eyes, but you didn’t have a choice. You had to run and find a safe place to re-think and re-group.

Scowling you sat up and looked at the remnants of New York. The city you loved so dearly was now in pieces, the machine Steve took control of, destroyed everything reminding the people of the previous government and the freedom they held. You have been successfully evading your ex-boyfriend turned tyrant for months now and building your own army of like-minded individuals.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Bucky sat down next to you.

“Funny enough I wanted to enjoy what is probably one of the last calm days.” He chuckled at that.

“Never thought I’d hear you say today is one of those calm days.”

“Same, who would’ve thought that you and I would be training people to overthrow a government led by my ex-boyfriend and your ex-best friend.” You cynically laughed. Bucky’s smile turned sour too. “You know, I’m correct, right? It’ll only get tougher and harder from here.”

“I know it’ll get significantly worse before it’ll get better.” Bucky nodded. “But it has to be done.”

You sighed again. It felt like you’ve been doing that a lot these days.

“We’re almost done with the preparations. We just have to find the right time to strike.”

“The coronation.” Bucky mentioned again. He has been vocal in strategy meetings about attacking at the time of coronation, however no one agrees since everyone will be on their highest alert.

“Bucky, we discussed this. That’s probably the worst time to strike-“

“Can you just listen to me?” He interrupted annoyed and you motioned for him to continue. “Steve will not expect it, believe me. He has been on high alert in the first months after you went missing, but now I can see he is more relaxed. I think there will be more people on guard that day, but they'll not be on high alert.”

“But if it fails, we will not get another chance. You realize that, right? All we have is this one shot. And we need to be successful.”

“I know. But if you and the rest of the task force lend me an ear, I think I have an idea how to successfully overthrow him.” Looking him in the eyes, you contemplated for a moment. At the end of the day, this was Bucky. He lost much more than you did that day and the fact he has to relive his days as a fugitive is triggering to say the least.

“Okay, I’ll make them listen.” You smiled.

~Task force~

“I fail to see why we needed to convene again.” Leah rolled her eyes as she sat down.

“We have been ignoring Bucky’s voice even though we have originally agreed that all ideas will at the very least be heard.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared at Leah. “Besides, Bucky was one of the first members of the Task Force, before it even became the Task Force.”

“I agree. Sergeant Barnes, I’m all ears.” Maria gave a small nod.

“Okay.” Leo agreed as well and so did the rest of the members.

“Thanks everyone. I don’t mean to discard the whole plan made before, I would just have a few additional suggestions. The biggest one is that our leader is our decoy-“

“What?” Leo was immediately on his feet, Maria holding him back.

“Let him finish.”

“Indeed, I’m curious to hear, what he has to say.” You leaned back in your chair, not expecting this to be Bucky's idea.

“You wouldn’t be going in alone. I would be with you and a few others. I’m not going to lie. They will most likely be collateral damage, but at the end of the day, the original plan would result in collateral damage as well.” He paused as he took in the disbelief written on Leah’s face.

"That's literally like lambs to the slaughter." She immediately jumped in.

“Sacrifices need to be made.” Thomas replied. “But we need to be transparent and let them decide who, if anyone, wants to gamble their life.”

“I think we might have more volunteers than you think, Leah.” Leo replied. “No one wants to continue living like this.”

“That’s for sure.” Trina concurred.

“Bucky, please continue.” Maria encouraged.

“The small group would try and stage an attack at the coronation. We will be captured and they will probably kill most of us.” Pausing again, Bucky turned to you and continued. “I know Steve won’t let anyone hurt you. And I want to believe me either, but if I’m wrong, I will gladly die for the cause.”

“After you are captured, Steve will think he has won, that the rumored resistance was just now extinguished and it was smaller than warned. His guard will be completely down and that’s when the original plan comes into effect.”

The whole room was quiet as he finished, everyone cautiously looking at you and each other.

“I like your idea. I think this is a solid plan. And I think we can actually execute it sooner than we originally theorized.” You exhaled.

“But what about you? Are you sure Rogers won’t kill you?” Maria asked.

“Are we sure that everyone will be ready for the war in 17 days?” Trina asked.

“Well…the answer to both questions is we’ll see. Like Bucky said – If I do end up dying, it’s for the cause, so there’s no need to be worried about that. And for our people…we will just have to make sure they are as prepared as they possibly can be.” You sighed.

“And if they won’t be?” Leah asked annoyed.

“I don’t think we have much choice. If we wait for a better time, it might never come.”

“Let’s do the best we can. That’s what we’ve been doing for the last seven months.” Thomas suggested.

“And then what?”

“And then we pray.” Your eyes met Bucky’s, who only nodded.

---------------

Thank you for reading! :)

The GIF belongs to the amazing creator - thank you! 💙

It's been a very long time since I posted anything. 😮 I wrote so many drafts, but nothing tangible and so months passed and I published nothing. I disliked this period of writer's block :( But I was driving home one day and I heard the latest song by Coldplay - We pray and I had this image in my head. And here we are 😁🙌✨

I do hope you enjoyed the story, it'll have a second part (at some point 😁✨)

But until then, I hope you'll be okay 🍀

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Hi, in regards to a post you made in Feb about building community as an activist and not burning out, I have some questions. Mostly in the form of plaintive cries for help... which, if that is something that annoys you or just something you don't want to deal with... That's fine, I don't expect an answer, in all honesty. I'd appreciate any advice you can give me, though, and I thank you for your time.

To start off..I want to be sociable, kind, giving. Maybe not as you are, but..in some way that I can do.

Mostly (I think) for altruistic reasons. Though its at least partly also out of guilt or because I can not stand to be a bystander or just..apathetic, I feel I have gone way too far down that road already, and there's nothing good at the end of it.

I..at the risk of oversharing, your post really resonated with me, but..looking back on my experiences and life, I think I might just...not work as a social human.

I have...a lot of challenges socializing with people, especially people without similar difficulties or innate sympathy to my situation or feelings.

Which makes it hard to be a social butterfly or any sort of insect, near impossible maybe.

And I know its not the only way to organize or to help build community, but it is a prerequisite for a lot of it in my experience. I struggle to hold a five-minute conversation or ask a simple request, even of people I broadly not to be hurt by me or hurt me. Both because of past trauma and failings in the actions mentioned.

I suppose I am asking for advice. If one has...near-zero socialization ability, and an untrustworthy sort of mien and general vibe. Is there any place or action I can do in my community (the only place I feel at all confident in helping or knowing how to help) that doesn't involve those things? Like... it's an uphill battle everywhere, but here it feels, it feels insurmountable or not much is being done. At least in my city and not Vancouver. A lot of the local activists are either burning out, quitting, or just... not doing much directly. Hearts and minds.

I can't cook, I'm...middling at bullshitting at being "normal" or "approachable" or even "sane", I can't draw, I don't have a network, and I have no resources that are useful. Besides time and a failing back. What can I *do* better. To be of help. I'm genuinely grasping at straws and coming up empty. And I don't want to make things worse anymore.

This isn't a 'gotcha', I genuinely want an answer that might put things into focus or just...inform me what I could be doing.

Please give yourself (and me) the space to read this answer as one that comes from love, understanding, and a genuinely difficult negotiation/tension between the role of self-as-individual vs self-as-community. My response is probably going to ramble and wind a bit, and I can't promise it'll feel actionable, but I promise I'm taking this as seriously as I can.

When I was fresh out of my undergrad degree, I finally bit the bullet and hired a social coach. I'd spent my entire life up until this point absolutely devastatingly incapable of making friends, communicating effectively in my personal and work life, and was pretty sure that I would never ever feel connected to another human being again. I could get technical about the mechanisms of that if we wanted to get lost in the weeds about what kind of people can or can't ever learn how to be in community with others but let's go ahead and assume for a minute that whatever a person reading this is about to assert means they are incapable of socializing even WITH explicit and direct training on what "socialization" even is, my life involved some degree of it whether yall want to believe me or not.

So I hired a social coach. I did this because I was tired of feeling overwhelmed, angry, isolated, exhausted, and cornered because I was constantly under fire for my poor social skills and also simultaneously pervasively invisble to others. It was kind of a nightmare way to live and I needed it to stop. So the social coach takes me out to coffee and starts explaining her approach, and do you know what I do? I argue with her. I tell her "but that's not how it works for me, why SHOULDN'T it be okay for me to be the version of me that's more comfortable rather than the one everyone else is expecting?"

And her answer was one that genuinely had me go home and refuse to schedule another appt for like 3wks because I was so frustrated by it.

She said: of course it's okay for you to be that. But you didn't ask me to help you be the most comfortable version of you. You asked me to help you learn to be more effective at navigating social interactions. Learning how to be intentional and effective with your approach doesn't mean you HAVE to use it all the time. And we'll even have specific conversations about how you want to decide when and how to use this stuff. But you need to learn about the different available tools before you can make an informed decision about which one is right for each interaction.

Reader, I hated that fuckin answer.

But she was right. And 3wks later I was back in the coffee shop with her learning about the different styles of communication and their use cases, about relationship theories and how they view the form and function of different social etiquettes, about the difference between a boundary and a demand, about all these things that no one had ever said out loud to me before but which had clear and present impacts on my entire life in retrospect.

Something else my social coach said: It's new for us to expect people to just learn social skills from their parents and general osmosis. Used to be that churches, finishing schools, extended family members, etc were all commonly present and involved in the process of explicitly teaching social skills, and books on etiquette were made available to those who were trying to teach/learn independently.

This had basically never occurred to me, but Reader, I went home and immediately started looking into etiquette books. I have some older ones that are obviously not immediately relevant anymore, but many of them discuss some really interesting lessons on the philosophies behind cultures of hospitality that I found DEEPLY useful. I also have newer ones that talk about more modern-applicable social expectations! Personally, I've always found direct advice (e.g. saying this means that) less long-term valuable to me than more generalized theories about how and why people might respond to things in the ways they do. You obviously can't just like. Find one of these that explains everything all the time, but the more familiar these ideas are, the easier I find it to move between them as needed.

And like. Doing this stuff, learning about theories of relationality and connection, taking social skill building courses, they were helpful. But you know what they taught me more than anything else?

Almost every person who has ever given you shit for being bad at communicating is ALSO really FUCKING BAD at communicating. We all are. Because we stopped fucking teaching it as a skill and started treating it like an innate concept ("social butterfly" isn't a personality type, but that doesn't stop people from declaring themselves "naturally social" or whatever). The difference between you and the person/people who told you that you suck at it is ownership of self.

See, having more tools didn't ACTUALLY make me better at socializing. But it gave me so many different ways to tackle a thing that I learned to pivot whenever one just didn't work. And I started noticing that usually when I pivoted, people responded in kind but SOMETIMES there was literally NO pivot from me that a person would accept. Because I wasn't the problem. The problem was that they were not accepting my communication for one reason or another. And friend, learning that I could just like. Call that shit out? Point and go "I need you to repeat back to me what you think I'm saying right now because I don't think you're hearing me." Man that was game changing.

Learning what I could and could not be responsible for and in control of. Being honest with myself about when I could and couldn't tolerate certain outcomes and not setting myself up for pain around that. Setting reasonable boundaries with people and asking them to do the same for me. More tools made that stuff easier, but ultimately all the good communication in the world wasn't a replacement for doing the very real, very FUCKING HARD work of learning how to coexist with people who are not me. People talk to us like this kind of coexistence means being subsumed and consumed by the collective such that you no longer exist. But this is a lie. There is no human on this earth able to exist entirely alone. We all depend on someone, somewhere, for something related to our basic survival. If you walk through the world unable to feel safe acting on this, you will walk through the world artificially starving yourself to death of everything you need to thrive and barely scraping up enough survival needs to keep going.

And that's true for all of us. So like. The threat that other people pose to us is LITERALLY the result of how much we all depend on each other. We are afraid of that interdependence because we are so alienated from ourselves and each other (for reasons that are culturally contextualized even when they are individual issues specific to us) that we no longer see each other as part of the broader "us". We are all just tiny clusters of individual "me's" occasionally vibrating along as an agitated and menaced "us" until we rattle off each other into our "me" bubbles again. But none of us can live like that. We're all WATCHING that truth in real time as it devastates, slaughters, facilitates fascism, isolates and erodes our safety nets, abandons those most in need.

When I first started in social work I learned about "strengths-based perspectives" and I actually found some of these ideas really helpful in changing how fixated I was on "can't do's". Things I saw as closed doors, blocked paths, constricted and restricted ways of moving forward. Turns out, that this type of thinking is the same one that tends to power eating disorders, driving the brain slowly fucking insane with how much "can't" there is and how excruciating the process of "can" often becomes. The human body-mind has a complex relationship with constriction, and if you live your life in that tension consistently enough for lomg enough, it fucks you up pretty badly. But like. Look around you. There's a LOT of can't in the world right now.

Can't get a job. Can't feed your family. Can't relax. Can't feel heard. Can't feel safe. Can't make friends. Can't go anywhere. Can't stop genocides. Can't survive them either. Can't talk about what's wrong. Can't be quiet any longer or you'll tear your own hair out. Can't pay rent. Can't go to the doctor when you're sick. Can't afford a family. Can't decide not to have a family you can't afford. Can't get help. Can't catch a fucking break.

Folks, I don't think that we can afford to think like this all the way to a shallow grave, do you?

There's a LOT that I can't do. And there is and has always been far more that I can. But learning how to see the latter was something no one ever taught me until I sought out the lessons myself as an adult. I *deserved* to be taught that, we ALL did, but probably that didn't work out for most of us. So learn. Learn because otherwise the helplessness and hopelessness will kill us all.

The goal isn't to force yourself to do things you can't. The goal is to learn how to be effective in the things you CAN do. And you have to be willing and able to learn about the tools that can help you do that. I don't know what that will look like for you, friend. But I know you'll find it.

[demigodofhoolemere]

Trying to find nice stuff for Wish but everywhere you go people are being painfully wrong in their interpretations of the movie

[xxplastic-cubexx]

now i aint ever had no one on the enemy team call me out.... lol ...... abysmal they say this right as the mvp screen pops up too.....

[mintaikkcorpse]

Me reading a fic where the person had an identidy realization that they were in he aroace spectrum and now they were figuring themselves out(I finally found something that understood me and a romance I could relate to after all these years)

[koterkot]

i'm probably a system but i have a job so idrc about that rn

[badolmen]

hey you guys know that even if the people inside that submersible are rich billionaires, dying in that metal tube at the bottom of the ocean is a horrific way to die right. like. yeah stupid choices were made by the people in there signing off on a waiver that says the sub is not approved by anyone and they could die. but it’s the fault of OceanGate for knowingly putting people into a Home Depot DIY sub rigged up with an Xbox controller all to make a profit on people’s curiosity.

[sailorsally]

every day i come on here and see additions by a url containing the name of one of the nicest actors out there and the blog owner is a fucking asshole