#some ppl say it's a stolen post but no

[a-daks]

bringing this cake to The People is the single most important act of service I've done in my life tbh

I see this headline:

As a former cakewrecks lover, I figured sure, I’ll bite. Let’s see this cake. Literally nothing could have prepared me for this cake. 

They paid $49 for this “frog-themed” cake and honestly no amount of money in the world could be put on this masterpiece:

Keep reading

[doors-worstenemy]

one video has completely turned my view of night mind around. I'm not a huge fan of night mind, I'm a fan of horror and mystery. but I'm not smart, so i watch explanation videos so I'm sure I understood 100% of the plot. Night Mind did a great job of this- mostly- with Marble Hornets, EverymanHYBRID, and things like this house has ppl in it, so I've started looking into his videos for more. Things like Chainmail Chasers, POSTcontent, Rapid Eyes, they were all fine videos from him, treated fair and explained well- praise and criticism where it was due. But it's videos like his "case file" or whatever he calls it on the series "JustAcquaintances" that pisses me off. When he started laughing at them in part 2 I couldn't keep watching. It's rude, it's pointless, it's mockery. No explanation or defense at the end of the video can make up for that. JustAcquaintances is what most arg/found footage fans want to be. A fun homemade series with friends, something made with passion and genuine interest- not professional and trained. Marble Hornets is good found footage because it's professional, they knew what they were doing and planned every step months or years ahead. If I'm not wrong, some members of Marble Hornets were in school working on film/acting. Either way, it's professional. JustAcquaintances is an example of well preformed fanwork in the best way possible. Their acting is amazing, a bunch of stupid guys looking for trouble end up in deep shit with the paranormal and a cult. The police, real or fake, time and time again leave them in either deeper shit or the same as before. Now people are dying, being kidnapped, stalking, beating, torturing our protagonist. It's good. It's a good series. It's what I want every found footage fan to create, i want a dozen million fans to go out with their ideas and do this. Because I don't expect every series to be another EverymanHYBRID. I don't want another Marble Hornets. I want raw passion of creativity woven from horrific inspiration. And I've seen the Slenderverse/yt horror community. They are critics, expecting the best, expecting all of the creators effort into these series'. But these are free. They are on Youtube, somewhere that's very famous for not giving creative- esp horror related- projects the attention and monetization they deserve. These are projects filmed by humans for the sake of letting their dark little project out of their heads and onto your screen. They deserve praise, they deserve your attention, they deserve your patience, and they deserve your criticism NICELY. THEY DON'T GET PAID ENOUGH BY THESE VIDEOS FOR YOUR SPONSERED, MONITETIZED, WELL RECEAVED VIDEO TO LAUGH AT THEM. THEY DESERVE TO BE PRAISED FOR THAT SCEEN REALLY, IT LOOKS AND SOUNDS LIKE HE'S REALLY BEING BEATEN BY A BAT, THEY AREN'T HITTING HIM IN THE HEAD OR SPINE, THEY AREN'T HITTING ALL TO HARD, THEY'RE BEATING HIM FOR THE SAKE OF BEATING HIM. AND IT'S WELL PREFORMED. HE'S CONFUSED, HE'S TRYING TO PROTECT HIMSELF AGAINST SOMEONE HE KNOWS KIDNAPPED AND HURT HIS BROTHER. HE'S SCARED. HE ISN'T FIGHTING BACK BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE'S ALONE, DEFENSLESS. HE DOESN'T DESERVE YOUR LAUGHTER. Even if poorly acted, he is on the floor, rolling in dirt, with bugs and germs in a public area, crying and whining, all for your entertainment. Not for money, for you- a supposed fan of found footage- to enjoy his act. He's willing to roll and scream in public, in the dirt, for you to laugh at him. It seems unfair, to do all this and expect nothing in return. JustAcquaintances is a good series, it's not hollywood, it's not professional, but it's exactly the passion I want to see every artist put into their work. It's what I want from anybody that's been inspired by horror or found footage, it's art and I wouldn't ever want them to change it. I'd want them to learn from it. Take what they've created and keep creating- just for the sake of creation. Criticism is necessary for art to prosper, but criticism isn't an hour and a half of copy and pasted footage occasionally interrupted by laughter or high expectations.

[arolesbianism]

Bro I'm losing my god damn mind and I haven't even messed around with the new gameplay shit like at all. Ive spent the past like 5 hours just reading and looking at shit I haven't even played the damn video game

[angelsberrymilk]

soldier boy (ben) x sam winchester

multiverse travel au

Post 1

Post 2

a/n: because wincesties understood my vision for this pair. u don't have to know shit abt the boys or soldier boy. soldier boy is a superhero. he's like a twisted dark version of captain America and they're in HIS universe where Sammy ends up. no demons or monsters. only superheroes and normal ppl.

warning: +18. mdni. dark content ahead.

because everything is so different and supes are everywhere, Sammy feels lost and confused, magic and spells don't seem to work, all he wants is some answers and he can't even summon a mere crossroads demon, he feels helpless and he doesn't like it, at all.

Sammy really tries not to mope around like Dean– Ben. Ben keeps laughing at him, and tells him to relax a little bit because he's with the Soldier Boy, and nothing can happen to him when he's with him. Ben is not too awful to live with, driving from one motel to another, usually on a stolen car, and after breaking someone's arm or other body part for whatever reason, or maybe because Ben fucked someone's wife and they have to move out of their motel room.

Ben is messy, throws his shit around and doesn't clean much after himself, so Sam is left to pick up after him, and he's annoyed, because “Aren't military men supposed to be clean and tidy?”

Ben’s hand freezes mid-air, about to chug half a bottle of beer and stares at Sam. Sammy freezes too, like a deer in the headlights, realising this man can break every bone in his body without breaking a sweat. But all Ben does is smile, “I'm not in the army now, am I?”

Sammy nods, noticing the smile not reaching his eyes and just gathers the clothes in his arms, putting them in the hamper near the wall, letting out a shuddering breath as Ben watches him clean around their motel room as if he's his housewife.

Ben, who gets a bit too comfortable around Sammy, walks around butt naked, and hollers at him to order them some food, and laughs when Sam turns red and shouts at him to put on some trousers. Ben who likes to eat a worrying amount of pizza while watching the TV, a hand on Sam's thigh, squeezing hard whenever Sam moves a little, just so he doesn't leave. and when Sam finally complains that he has to go use the toilet, Ben turns his head and looks at him without blinking. For a second Sam is terrified he'll tell him to hold it, but all Ben does is slide his eyes down at Sam's jean clad lap and stares openly at his groin. He doesn't say anything for a long time then takes off his hand from Sammy's thigh, “Go, and bring back a six pack with you, Sammy boy”

Sam slides out of the sofa, sweat collecting at the nape of his neck, his brain screaming at him to run away, to run and never look back because this man was not his brother. He may look like him, behave like him to a certain extent, but Sammy can't leave him, he needs Dean. in whatever version he can have him.

Sam also realises that this man sleeps like shit, he sleeps for short intervals at a time, waking up shouting from nightmares, his body surging up with energy and concentrated compound V running in his veins. Sam eventually pries some answers from him, after some quietly asked questions and giving him pitiful puppy eyes and Ben cracked. He was uncomfortable when he told him, tried to hide it, tried to make it seem like it doesn't haunt him still, but Sammy knows he's lying. Ben tells him they did experiments on him during WWII, injected him with all sorts of chemicals, fed him dreams of glory and American Patriotism, made it seem like he was saving the nation. Nobody is born like this, everyone was made into a Supe, and whatever they tell people nowadays on the Internet and Television, it's all bullshit.

Sam feels a little bad but tries to remind himself that this Dean probably committed countless of war crimes and God knows what else, if those theories on Reddit are anything to go by. and he understands why these theories would be popular on certain places of the Internet. Soldier boy was built to be a weapon, and he was but a man, driven by desires and emotions. He's broken, wrong, sinful and dangerous, but Sammy can't bring himself to be disgusted, not when he himself is too tired, so tired of not having what he wants, and all he wants is the one thing he can have, this Dean, this man who wears his brother's face.

He knows it probably makes him a shitty person to stay with this 105 year old racist prick, but this man looks like he's only in his 30s, walks like Dean, sounds like Dean, looks like Dean, even smells like him.

Sammy found that one day after he found himself burying his nose in the man's dirty t-shirts that were thrown over the sofa. He's embarrassed at his weakness and tries to forget how the smell of sweat, musk and something so Dean made him feel weak in the knees and an army of butterflies errupted in his stomach.

Sammy has also been close enough to smell him and feel the warmth of his body against his. It happened in the middle of the night, when Soldier Boy was once again woken up by a nightmare. So Sam blinked his eyes open and turned his head to look at him on the other bed, but a big warm calloused hand pressed the side of his head down on the pillow hard so he won't move. he can't move. not with the type of strength Ben possesses. Sam held his breath, praying Ben won't snap his neck in half, mistaking him for an enemy soldier, mind broken, fractured and riddled with PTSD.

But all Ben did was lean down, his hot breath washing over Sam's face, his body frozen in fear. He didn't say anything for a long time, and Sam knew he was looking at him, then he whispered in his deep and heavy voice, “Sleep, Sammy.” Sam’s heart jumped in his chest, and he bit his lower lip so he wouldn't whimper and felt his mattress dip. Ben slid under the covers, easily pushing Sam’s body further in the bed, making space for himself, practically plastering himself to the back of Sam’s body, throwing a heavy arm over Sam's waist, getting comfortable right behind him, their bodies touching from top to bottom.

Sam gulped and parted his lips, breathing out a weak, “Ben-”

Ben didn't like that. So he clasped a hand over Sam's mouth, pressing hard, covering both his mouth and nose at the same time, Sam fought against his instincts telling him to kick that man as hard as he could but he can't, he may as well just ask Ben to kill him right then and there.

Ben lifted his head and breathed down Sam's ear, his nose touching his flesh, “Shut the fuck up, Sammy,”

Sam nodded before he could help it and Ben let go, finally granting him permission to breathe. While Sam gulped in oxygen and Ben got comfortable on the bed, squeezing Sam to his body like a giant pillow, “You're warm,” Ben whispered, sounding tired.

Sam’s heart broke a little, but that didn't last long when Ben added, “Shame you don't have a warm cunt to match,”

And right as he said it, he rolled his hips and Sam felt like throwing up at what obviously was Soldier Boy’s half hard cock right against the crack of his ass, then he settled, Sam listened for Ben's breathing and his heart finally stopped hammering in his chest when Ben's breathing evened out and he was surely asleep.

Sammy was terrified, but also safe at the same time, but also simultaneously in danger of losing one of his limbs if Ben has another nightmare or kills him in his sleep. Sam has never felt this close physically before to Dean, never so warm and cozy, but also so horrified and sick to his stomach because this isn't how brothers are meant to behave. But Ben isn't his brother. That's one of the first things he ever told him. That he wasn't his brother.

Sam closes his eyes tight and prays for his safety and for a way to go back home. And shivers when he realises he wants to take this man with him back home. Obviously nobody gives a shit about him in his world, and he'd do much good back in theirs. Soldier Boy was strong, a supe, and with the right training he can easily be one of the best hunters there was. And Sam is sure Dean wouldn't mind, not when this man kept Sam this safe for so long, looked after him, and plus this man may not be Dean, but he's still family in a way, and Sam's not very keen on leaving him behind. (That's Sam convincing himself that he'll be the one deciding to take this mfer with him when he knows that Ben will demand to go back with him, Ben won't let Sam leave him alone.)

.

tagging the ppl kind enough to tell me they enjoyed my insane ship :) this is for you <3

@klingyklaus @toasty-broski @28confusedthoughts @winchesterdefender @blackkmariah @106skin @redpopcat @arwenadreamer @nguyetdahuong @asongfortheunloved @rancidlovers @bcatwinchest @supfan67 @unabashedhonesty @hellfire-fist @nanacupid @arthrodira @loserluizard @jocelynfan @waywardsamdean @sastielbeltscene @sam-sinchester @masoena @winchestermylove @sammybeann @azrielrose @saltmonellas @boypussysam @monkibizznes @daddysboydean @notanotherthembo @i-already-know-im-going-2-hell @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis

[honeyryewhiskey]

mirrored souls

or, dean dreams of what he believes he can never have. warnings ! angst, hurt/some comfort, dean's feelings are hurt, unexpected pregnancy, tough conversations, two ppl with the same fears j's note ! hey so let's not even talk about the fact that this is neither of the two fics i posted snippets of lol idk what possessed me to write 5k fucking words for this i'm sorry i just want to baby trap dean winchester erm idk enjoy? it's sad but maybe pls dont take my word for it i'll continue this and let them be happy also i stopped proof reading half way through bc it is my bed time <3 5k words

He’s had this dream every night for weeks. 

The sun is golden, thick with warmth, stretching over endless fields of green. It settles on his skin like an old friend, seeps into his bones, loosening the ever-present tension in his shoulders. The air is clean, carrying the scent of wildflowers and summer, and for the first time in his life, he feels safe. Like he could lie back in the grass, close his eyes, and let the world move on without him.

Then, he hears her.

A laugh—small and weightless, like wind chimes in a summer breeze—rings through the stillness. It stops him cold, strikes something deep in his chest that he doesn’t know how to name.

He turns, and she’s there.

She can’t be older than four, standing barefoot in the grass, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes—green as polished emeralds, too big for her little face. His eyes.

But everything else—her delicate nose, the slope of her cheekbones, the way her wild hair frames her face—that’s you.

She tilts her head, smiling in a way that makes something inside him shatter. Then she reaches for him, small fingers wrapping around his calloused hand like she’s always belonged there.

And just like that—like the break of a wave, like the snap of a thread—she’s gone.

Dean wakes with a sharp inhale, the remnants of warmth already fading, replaced by the cold press of reality. His chest aches, heavy with something deeper than longing. A quiet, creeping fear slithers in, curling around his ribs.

Because she has his eyes and your face—a combination that will never exist.

You left. And you haven’t come back in months.

It was always cat and mouse with you—years of fleeting moments, an unspoken desire for more that neither of you had the courage to face. You’d cross paths, use each other's bodies to release some tension, but never linger long enough to ignite anything real. 

Until about eight months ago, when everything changed. You stayed longer than just a weekend. Dean had you in his arms for four months—four months that felt like a lifetime of stolen moments, of finally letting down walls you both had built so high. But when it all started to feel too real, when the weight of it all settled between you like an unspoken truth, you pulled away. You told him it was too much, that you needed space, that you couldn’t do it anymore. You needed to breathe, to step back before it swallowed you whole. And with that, you walked away, leaving him to sift through the pieces of something that was never meant to last.

His heavy hand slams down on the bleating alarm clock beside his bed. The sharp noise cuts off, leaving only the ragged sound of his breathing in the dark. He drags a hand down his face, fingers pressing into his tired eyes, but it doesn’t do anything to clear the remnants of the dream—the sunlight, the laughter, the way she looked at him like he was her whole damn world.

Dean exhales sharply and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Another short night, another dream of something that doesn’t exist, of someone who will never be real. He tells himself it’s just a trick of the mind, a byproduct of too many years spent running on empty. But the truth—the one he won’t say out loud—is that the dreams never started until you left.

And maybe that’s what makes them feel more like a haunting than a fantasy.

He’s spent each day the past four months trying to shove it down, burying it under booze and hunts and half-hearted distractions. But it doesn’t matter how many times he tells himself he’s over it, that he saw it coming. Because he did. He knew you would run the second things got too real, the second you got too close, too comfortable, like maybe you wanted this life with him.

And then, just like his dream, you were gone.

You never said it outright, but he knew—deep down, you were always more like him than you wanted to admit. Built for the road, for the chase. Love wasn’t something you stayed for.

Except you never really left, not completely.

Every now and then, his phone would ring, and it’d be your voice on the other end—casual, distant, asking about a hunt, about a lead on something nasty you were tracking. Always avoiding the bigger conversation, never asking how he’s been, never giving him the chance to ask where you are.

And Dean let it happen. Let you keep him at arm’s length. Because at least this way, you were still something in his life.

But now, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, the dream still fresh in his mind, it pisses him off.

He stands, yanking on a t-shirt and running a hand through his hair before heading for the door. He just needs coffee—something to shake off the lingering ache sitting heavy in his chest.

But the second he steps into the hall, Sam is there, hovering with that anxious look that never means anything good.

“Hey,” Sam starts, lifting a hand like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Before you go in there, just—don’t freak out, okay?”

Dean’s stomach tightens, his muscles tensing. The look he cuts Sam with makes the younger brother’s eyes widen, searching for words to mediate and settle the storm brewing at either side of him. “Sam, what the hell are you—”

Before Sam can answer, Dean hears it.

The sound of pacing. Quick, uneven steps against the kitchen floor. His body goes still, his breath catching in his throat. He doesn’t need to see you to know.

You’re here.

Dean’s pulse pounds in his ears. His stubborn rage choking out the glimmer of childish hope that sets his nerves on fire. He stares at Sam, waiting for some kind of explanation, but Sam just shifts on his feet, uneasy.

That’s when another sound cuts through the silence—your voice.

Muffled, pacing, like you’re muttering to yourself between shallow breaths.

Dean swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he pushes past Sam. His mind is already racing, his thoughts a tangled mess of you, his dreams, his heartache and the damn voice in his head telling him to grip you tight enough so that you can’t leave him again. Whatever this is, whatever brought you back, he’s not in the mood for it. Not today. Not after all this time.

But when he steps into the kitchen, the world tilts on its axis.

You freeze mid-step, eyes wide, hands curled tightly around the edge of the counter as if you’re holding yourself together, bracing for something. For him, maybe. Your posture is rigid, your whole body taut with tension. You look… different. There’s an unreadable heaviness in the way you stand, the nervous bite of your lip as you chew it—like you’re preparing for a blow, for him to lash out, to reject you. 

A heavy silence falls over the room, thick and suffocating. His heart hammers in his chest, but there’s no anger now, no easy target to aim it at. Just this painful, aching pull between what he wants and what he’s afraid to hope for.

“You…” He’s barely able to get the word out. His throat feels tight, words caught somewhere between anger and something much softer, something more dangerous. He’s not sure which one is scarier.

You glance at him, then quickly look away, the uncertainty in your eyes like a crack in a mirror he never thought he’d see. Dean feels something in his chest twist—familiar, painful, like it’s been waiting for you to come back and break him open all over again.

His mind is a whirlwind. He wants to be angry—hell, he’s had four months of anger built up over your disappearing act. But standing here, with you so close, he realizes just how torn he is inside.

He wants to scream at you, demand to know why you didn’t come back sooner, why you couldn’t have just stayed. But that’s not the real question, is it? Because deep down, a part of him knows it wasn’t just you who ran. It was him, too. He shut off long ago, convincing himself it was easier that way. He was easier that way.

But you? You always seemed to slip through his defenses.

Dean stares at you, struggling to find his voice, his hands suddenly feeling useless at his sides. The walls he’s built up for his entire life—years of anger, bitterness, and pain—are cracking, piece by piece, and he has no idea how to stop it.

Dean crosses his arms, trying to shove down the storm already brewing inside him. “Well,” his voice is rough with sleep and something dangerously close to hurt. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Your spine straightens, and just like that, the tension shifts. Whatever nerves had you pacing seconds ago are buried under the sharp edge of your own attitude. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan on it either.”

Dean scoffs, a bitter chuckle, the undertone to the eye roll he throws you. “Oh, great. That makes me feel real special.”

“I…” You hesitate, fingers digging into the edge of the counter before you let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Dean. I don’t know if this is the right thing, or if I’m just—” you stop yourself, biting your lip again. You were never as good as he was at hiding your pain. It’s evident now, in the vulnerability in your eyes that cuts through him, raw and unguarded, and it makes everything inside him spin faster.

Sam clears his throat. “Why don’t I give you guys some space?” He glances between the two of you, clearly ready to escape the tension.

Dean doesn’t look at him, just stares at you as you stand firm, the scowl on your face trying desperately to cover the sadness in your eyes. The fact that you’re asking for anything at all should piss him off. After months of the half-hearted check-ins that only ever came when you needed something, after the way you left—why should he give you the time of day?

But he can’t say no.

And that scares him more than anything.

Sam nods to himself when neither of you protest and slips out of the kitchen, leaving you and Dean in thick, suffocating silence.

“Why are you here?” His voice comes out quieter than he intended, but the question hangs in the air, laced with something deeper, something that sounds too much like hope. A falsehood he’s terrified to acknowledge.

You take a shaky breath, your shoulders slumping just slightly, as if the weight of being in the same room as him is too much to carry alone.

Dean takes a step toward you, his feet heavy on the floor, his chest aching. His instincts shout at him to pull away, to protect himself from the inevitable hurt, but something else—something buried deep inside him—begs him to go closer.

The words come out before he can stop them, quieter now, barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do this again, are we gonna keep pretending we have nothing to talk about?”

You wince, a flicker of pain crossing your face, and it rips through him. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he can’t stop the words. He can’t stop the fear, the resentment, that’s built up over all this time.

"I don't know if I can just act like nothing ever happened between us. Like you didn't leave me. Like..." His voice breaks off, his throat thick with emotion he’s been swallowing for far too long. He’s not even sure who he’s trying to convince anymore, you or himself.

His hands are trembling now, and he clenches them into fists, fighting to keep the storm inside him contained. But every time he looks at you, sees the way you’re standing before him, so tired and lacking the fire that he always adored. That you’re here now when he never thought he’d see you again, it pulls him under a wave of emotion he can’t quite place.

“I don’t know how to do this, not after everything,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “You can’t just waltz back in here and expect me to be okay with it.”

Your eyes fill with regret, but there's something else too—a quiet understanding. You know what you’ve done. You know what this looks like, but still, you're standing here. And that small, painful spark of hope flickers in the pit of his stomach.

“Can we just sit and talk, please?” Your voice is soft, pleading. And this time, you don’t look away.

Dean stands there, his whole body tense, his mind screaming conflicting words in the crosshairs—walk away, stay. But something in your gaze, in your quiet desperation, tugs at him. For a moment, he’s paralyzed—conflicted in the most unfamiliar way.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he nods. “Fine. But we talk,” he jabs a finger at you, his brows set with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat, “really talk. No more running.”

You nod, your shoulders relaxing, just slightly, and Dean wonders, not for the first time, if maybe—just maybe—he’s still capable of believing in the possibility of this. Of you.

His eyes narrow, the weight of years of unresolved anger and hurt pressing down on him. But despite it all, despite everything you put him through, he can’t seem to dig his heels into this anger. Not when you’re standing here, so close, with those big, pleading eyes that always seemed to strip him bare.

The years of touch and go, the broken promises, the words left unsaid—they all float between you, a suffocating fog that neither of you knows how to break. But Dean’s tired. Tired of fighting this pull, this pull toward you he can’t seem to ignore, no matter how many times you leave.

With a frustrated sigh, he crosses the kitchen, the hard floor beneath his boots clacking louder than it should. He grabs two chairs from the worn wooden table, scraping them across the linoleum as he sets them down. Wordlessly, he nods toward the seat beside him.

“Sit,” he mutters, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.

You stand there for a moment, the air between you thick with things left unsaid. And then, quietly, you take the seat next to him.

Dean can feel the weight of the moment in every fiber of his being. He doesn’t want to look at you. Not yet. Not until he’s ready to hear whatever it is you came to say.

The silence stretches on, thick and uncomfortable, as you sit side by side, neither of you knowing how to begin.

Finally, you clear your throat, a small sound, but it’s enough to break through the tension. “Look, I know I don’t have the right to ask you for anything. But… can we just talk, like we used to? No games. No running away this time, okay?”

Dean stares at the table in front of him, his fingers tapping restlessly against the edge. Your words hit harder than he expected, and for a second, his chest tightens with something raw and unfamiliar.

“I don’t know how to do this anymore, you know?” he says quietly, almost to himself. “Every time you leave… it’s like you take a piece of me with you. And I’m just left here picking up the pieces, wondering if you’ll ever come back.”

You wince at the admission, and it hits him harder than he wants to admit. He doesn’t know why he said it—maybe because this is the first time in years that you’re actually sitting here, facing him. Maybe because it’s the first time in years that he feels like you might actually be willing to stay.

You reach out, placing a tentative hand on his, stilling the tapping. And for a brief moment, his breath catches.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Dean,” you say softly. “I never wanted to be another person who hurts you.”

to forget the months of silence, the aching space you left behind. He wants to pull you close, bury his face in your neck, and pretend none of it ever happened—that you never walked away, that he never let you.

But reality crashes down just as fast.

He can’t let himself go there, can’t let himself believe this is something he can have without it slipping through his fingers. So instead, he exhales sharply, shoving that fragile part of himself deep down where it belongs. His jaw tightens, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rough, edged with his angry armor.

“Then why did you leave?” he grits out, his voice quiet but commanding. He needs to know. Needs to understand why the person he thought he might finally let himself love disappeared without a trace.

You pull your hand back, lips pressed tight. “I—”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy, like the weight of months spent apart. Dean’s still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening, why you’re here, why you’re sitting beside him, but something shifts in your expression.

You take a deep breath, eyes falling to your lap before lifting to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words soft but full of weight. “I’m sorry for always running off. For disappearing when things got too real. I know it’s not fair.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t know what to say, what to feel.

“I was scared,” you continue, voice breaking just a little. “I still am. I…” Your words falter, but then you press on, searching his eyes for understanding. “I was consumed with this fear of losing it all. That I’d attach myself to you and this life would rip you away.”

The quiet admission sits heavy in the air. Dean feels his heart thudding faster beneath his rib cage. A pang of regret washes over him, for never admitting he shared that fear. That he thought he would be the thing that rips you apart. And maybe if he had, you wouldn’t have felt alone in those thoughts. 

You run a hand through your hair, a nervous gesture, and he watches the movement, the tension in your body. “I didn’t think I could do this. I didn’t think we could do this. I don’t see a world where something like that survives,” you shake your head, lost in the thoughts that shuffle through as you try to find your words, “Where… where we get a happy ending.”

Dean feels his chest tighten, his pulse speeding up as he takes in what you’re saying. The words hang between you, both of you holding your breath. And for a long, painful moment, the only sound in the room is the distant hum of the refrigerator, a constant reminder that time is still moving, even when it feels like everything’s frozen in place.

“I’m not saying that I don’t want it, Dean,” you add quickly, your voice cracking. “I just—I don’t know how to believe it’s possible. But I didn’t come here to ask for you to take me back.”

Dean stares at you, his pulse hammering against his ribs. There it is—that damn crack in your voice, the one that always cuts through him like a blade. He wants to be angry, to hold onto the bitterness that’s been festering since you left, but it slips through his fingers the second he sees the way you’re looking at him. Like you’re scared. Like you don’t expect him to want this.

Like you don’t expect him to want you.

His throat tightens, his fists clenching at his sides as he fights the urge to reach for you. “Then what do you want?” His voice is quieter now, rougher. “If you’re not here to ask me for anything, then why come back?”

You open your mouth, then close it, searching for words. Your fingers twist in the hem of your jacket, your shoulders curling inward, like you’re bracing for him to tear you apart. And damn it, that does something to him, because he’s never wanted to be the reason you look like that.

Dean drags a hand down his face, trying to ground himself. His mind is a battlefield, waging war between the fear clawing at his insides and the need to fix this—fix you. But how the hell is he supposed to do that when he’s still not sure how to fix himself?

“You don’t know how to believe it’s possible?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, join the damn club.” His chest feels too tight, his voice breaking under the weight of it. “You think I had some fairytale idea of us, sweetheart? That I thought this would be easy?” He lets out a breath that’s more of a laugh, humorless and hollow. “Hell, I don’t even know if I’d be any good at this. But you didn’t give me the chance to figure it out, did you?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, a tear slipping down your cheek before you can stop it. And God, he hates that. He hates seeing you cry. Hates even more that he’s the reason for it.

“I was scared,” you whisper, your voice breaking apart like shattered glass. “I am scared.”

Dean swallows hard, his anger flickering, giving way to something deeper, something more painful. He’s scared too. He’s scared as hell. Of not being enough. Of screwing this up. Of losing you all over again.

But when he looks at you—when he sees the way you’re trembling, barely holding yourself together—it hits him. He’s not the only one drowning in this.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair before finally, finally stepping forward. His hands hover for a second before settling on your arms, grounding you. Grounding himself.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, softer now, “I guess we can be scared together.”

You drag the backs of your hands across your cheeks, trying to contain the tears that just won’t stop flowing. “No, Dean, you don’t get it—” you cut yourself off with a groan. Your breathing is coming out uneven as anxiety pulls at your every nerve, and suddenly you can’t sit still. You can’t do this. 

You’re up on your feet again, pacing slightly as you try to steady your breathing. 

Dean watches you, his stomach twisting as you distance yourself. There’s a wild, frantic energy in the way you move, your arms wrapping around yourself like you’re trying to hold yourself together. Your breath is uneven, shaky, and those damn tears keep slipping past your lashes no matter how hard you try to blink them away.

His fingers twitch at his sides, itching to reach for you again, to do something—anything—to stop that panicked look from overtaking your face. It melts his resolve, steadies his rising temper.

His voice comes quieter this time, hesitant. “Hey—what’s going on?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you press the heels of your hands into your eyes, shaking your head as if you can will away whatever storm is raging inside you.

Dean’s chest tightens. His mind is running through every possibility, each one worse than the last. “Sweetheart,” he tries again, the pet name easing off his tongue as if no time had passed since he last called you that, “talk to me.”

"I... I didn't catch it in time, I'm sorry." You start, your voice barely more than a whisper, the words thick with something he can't quite name. Your eyes squeeze shut as if the simple act of speaking is too much.

Dean’s chest tightens, a knot of confusion twisting in his stomach. “What the hell are you talking about?” His tone is gentle now, trying to coax it out of you, but the moment you raise your eyes, he sees it—the fear, raw and trembling beneath the surface.

He’s on his feet again, closing in on you like you’re a scared animal that’ll take flight from any sudden movement. 

“I just thought it was stress making me miss my period again, but…” You choke, your voice cracking as if admitting it out loud is tearing something inside you apart.

Dean’s breath hitches, and his heart races, but he doesn’t dare interrupt you, his own confusion giving way to a growing sense of dread. He takes another step toward you, but you flinch, eyes shimmering with tears that slip through your heavy breathing.

You finally break, the tears turning into sobs that shake your shoulders. You shake your head, wiping at your face again, as if trying to push it all away. But it’s too late now.

“I’m scared, D.” You gasp the words out, the weight of them crushing you. “I’m so scared.”

Dean’s chest tightens, a cold sensation creeping down his spine, even as his heart lurches in his chest. He can feel the tremor in your voice, the rawness in every syllable, but he can’t make sense of it. The world seems to slow, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place—but not quickly enough for his mind to catch up.

“What… What are you saying?” He asks, his voice quiet, strained with confusion and something that feels dangerously close to panic.

You glance up at him, eyes wide and glassy with tears. You open your mouth, but the words seem stuck, lodged in your throat. The silence between you is deafening.

Finally, you take a deep breath, almost like you’re gathering the strength to face something unbearable. “I’m pregnant, Dean.” The words fall from your lips in a broken whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

Dean freezes. His entire body goes still, as though he’s forgotten how to breathe. The weight of your words hits him like a freight train, and for a moment, everything goes silent except for the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

Pregnant.

His mouth goes dry, his thoughts scrambling, trying to make sense of it all. The pieces click into place—the missed periods, the way you looked at him when you walked in, the way you wouldn’t meet his eyes.

His dreams.

 He takes a half-step back, his mind too far behind, too rattled by the weight of what you just said.

And then, slowly, it hits him—this isn’t just a shock; it’s a bombshell. One that could tear everything apart, and yet, at the same time, it pulls something from him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. The edges of his world begin to blur. He’s scared. He’s terrified.

“Are you… are you sure?” His voice comes out rough, almost panicked, like he’s waiting for you to tell him this is some sick joke, but he knows it’s not.

You nod, sniffling. "I took a test, I went to the doctor and they told me I was already four months along." you whisper, choking back a sob. "I didn’t know what to do."

Dean steps closer, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you. But you flinch again, the space between you thick with everything you’ve never said to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you. I could have just called, I should have—” Your voice cracks, and you finally meet his gaze, eyes full of everything—regret, fear, and a raw, aching vulnerability that threatens to break him.

Dean's heart races, the panic starting to crawl up his throat. He wants to scream, to tell you that he’s terrified—that he doesn’t know how to be a father, that he’s too broken, too fucked up to raise a kid. The thought of something happening to you, to your child, terrifies him in ways he can’t even put into words. But you’re standing there, so small, so vulnerable, looking at him like he’s the only one who can fix this. And damn it, he has to be strong.

He closes the distance between and pulls you into his arms before either of you can second guess it. His hands are warm and steady on your back, but inside, his mind is a storm. His pulse is erratic, his breath shallow, but he holds you close, trying to give you the comfort he doesn’t know how to find for himself.

“Hey,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice like a lighthouse to steer your sinking ship. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re not alone in this.”

You shake your head against his chest, a shaky breath escaping. “I’m so scared, Dean. I don’t know what to do.”

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression soft but full of intensity. His thumbs pushes away your tears, warm and rough against your skin. “You don’t have to know right now,” he assures you, trying to convince himself as much as you. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time. I’m here, okay? We’ll get through this.”

Inside, though, his mind is spinning out of control. He doesn’t know how to be the man you need. He doesn’t know if he can even be the father this child deserves. But in this moment, he’s all you have. And somehow, he knows that no matter how badly he’s freaking out, no matter how scared he is, he’ll find a way to make this work—for you, for the little life growing inside of you.

He gently strokes your hair, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, grounding himself in the act. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispers again, his voice thick with the promise of something more than just words.

But inside, the panic churns, a rising tide he can’t escape. He holds you tighter, pretending for your sake that everything will be fine, even as the weight of the world presses down on him.

edit to add tags why do i always forget tags @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @snowluvvie @ultravi0lence14

[fallinforgyu]

ateez reaction to riling them up in public? like maybe with other ppl around n you tryna feel em up under the table or sumn or like, in a movie theater, that sort of thing...

anon i will kiss u on the forehead... bless u

hongjoong doesn't like pda. he wants to keep intimate moments intimate and would give you NO reaction if you tried to feel him up in public. he might even shoot you a look or directly tell you to stop. you'd think he's mad at you until the moment the door closes behind him and you're alone. "What exactly were you trying to do?" he'd ask, walking closer and closing in on you, "Start something you couldn't finish?" And then, just to remind you who's in charge, he'd tie you up. You're excited just to feel his hands on you, but don't get your hopes up - you're not gonna get to cum for at LEAST an hour. "How does it feel to be teased? It's not fun, huh baby?"

seonghwa... i actually think he would really love this. first of all i think he might be a bit of an exhibitionist so if you feel him up in front of one of the other members that's a HUGE plus. idk idk i have this very clear image in my head of seonghwa making eye contact with and smirking at the members while he's getting his neck kissed idk idk... anyway. as an aries mars this man probably LOVES quickies, so feeling him up in public would almost always lead to you bent over a sink in some sleazy public restroom, his hands all over you and his lips against your ear, saying shit like "This is what you wanted, hm? Pretty little slut." God and then he LOVES putting your panties back on and making you go about the rest of your day with his cum dripping out of you.

yunho plays along with it. the second he feels your hand brushing against his thigh at the movie theater, he leans over and presses his lips directly to your ear. "What are you doing, pretty girl?" He'd smirk, knowing damn well what you're doing. Well, two can play at that game. he'd put his arm around you, starting by stroking your hair and ear, then brushing the back of his fingertips down your neck. once you're nice and covered in chills, he'd gently grope the side of your breast, smirking and kissing the side of your head when you squirm. by the end of the movie, you're so worked up that you forgot the whole thing was your idea. but don't worry, yunho's gonna remind you of that every few minutes when he's overstimulating you at home later. "Come on, sweetie. You can cum one more time for me, can't you? You were so needy for me earlier."

i'm picturing a very specific scenario with yeosang. walk with me. you're at the mall with him and when you walk past a lingerie store, you think it's the perfect opportunity to tease him. you ask him to go to the store with you and he nods, trying to act as chill as possible about it. that is until you're holding up pretty sets against your body, asking yeosang if he thinks they'd look good on you. he'd be pretty quiet but he'd give you his honest opinion, blushing through the whole ordeal. your mall trip ends shortly after that because yeosang is suddenly in a huge rush to get home, begging you "Please put that red one on for me" as soon as you're home. have i mentioned i think yeosang loves lingerie? bc i do. "Drove me crazy to think about you wearing all of those pretty things for me," he'd breathe, biting your neck, "Just so I can make a mess of you in them."

god there's something so romantic about san. i really think teasing touches and stolen kisses are just things that come with loving him. even if you're just at a cafe having coffee and chatting, your fingertips brushing up and down his arm while you talk to him just feels so comfortable and right. he's the type to pull you into an empty alley and press you to the wall and kiss you with everything he has in his body just because he felt like it. i'm telling yall... post date sex with san goes CRAZY because you will have spent the entire date subconsciously working each other up. "You know just how i like it, baby. You know just how to make me feel good," he'd groan through slow, passionate strokes and deep kissing </3

mingi's first reaction is to get giggly. i think his body is so sensitive and he's a little bit ticklish, so feeling your hands on particularly sensitive parts of his body might make him a little squirmy. but just be patient, be gentle and keep going because in a few minutes he'll mellow out and really allow himself to feel your touches. his eyelids might get a little heavy, his eyes might glaze over a bit but he's in heaven allowing himself to be loved on. "Doing okay, handsome?" you'd ask and he'd snap out of it a bit. "That feels nice." he'd nod, a dopey smile on his face. ask him if he wants more and he'll be home and underneath you in a matter of minutes - a moaning, panting mess who loves nothing more than being the center of your attention.

we're kidding ourselves if we say that wooyoung is anything other than the one who would be teasing you. this man is THE teaser. was quite literally born to tease. he'd constantly be coming up with excuses to try to rile you up - sucking ice cream off your fingers after it dripped down the cone and onto your hand, running his hand up your thigh while you're trying to watch tv, slapping your ass when he walks past you, the list goes on. he wants to see just how far he can push you before you break. "What are you gonna do about it, huh? You gonna punish me? Or are you gonna admit to yourself that you liked it, hm?" yeah that's wooyoung.

jongho just wants to make sure your needs are taken care of </3 as soon as you start trying to feel him up it's "Hm? What's gotten into you, baby? Do you need me?" and best believe he will prioritize your needs over ANY function he's at. the minute you nod your head or give him that desperate look, he has you in the passenger seat of his car with his hand on your thigh. "I'm gonna turn you into a brat if I keep giving you whatever you want whenever you want it," he'd smirk, kissing you and sliding his hands up your skirt, "But how am I supposed to say no to you when you're this damn cute all the time?"

[starwikia]

so like are we done with the idea that james is a victim of the internet harassment mob or whatever you guys like to call it when in reality no one like forced him to be part of the public eye again. he had multiple times to disengage but he threw himself head first into the spotlight with some half assed apology where he used his dead mom, illiterate dad, and like 293 mental illnesses that he was in the right to do a widdle plagiarism but it’s not his fault! it’s everyone else’s fault for not being nice to him about it!!! how dare these people bring these issues to the public not thinking how james would feel about it! like ppl are forgetting there was notable period of time james went off air entirely. and every time he’s jumped back it’s always attempts to paint himself as the victim.

like be real for a second if anyone was weaponizing the internet harassment machine it was james somerton. he knew what he was doing when he posted that note. he knew the shit his victims would get for having the crime of (checks notes) voicing out their issues with him. he knew there’s people out there who are foaming at their mouths to use anything they can get their hands on as a “gotcha!” at hbomberguy (right wing people yes, but don’t act like it’s just them i’ve seen plenty of lefties trying to prove they’re superior to harry). they don’t give a shit about james, not really. he’s the dude who hbomb did a “hit piece” (yes that’s a term i’ve seen people use) and that’s what matters.

not to mention the writing that’s also very clearly targeting nick who’s basically cut ties with him at this point. james pushed all the burden on nick by saying it’s their fault, actually. he’s one of the co-writers and everything going to shit was nick’s fault when they had the audacity to move. james is faultless! with james still trying to monetize stolen content on the blatant lie that he’s doing this for nick’s sake as a portfolio. acting as if nick isn’t an sentient human being who could upload their own content, as if nick would even want to be associated with james at this point. this isn’t a teenager being harassed for an honest mistake, this is a 35-year old con artist who’s stolen hundreds of thousands and peddled the most vile shit as actual history but realized he was in deep shit and weaponizes very serious mental health issues as a “i’m just a poor little gay baby!! my alter ego did it!!!”

for the record if you’re among the people who tried to wash down james’ crimes as “he just did plagiarism!! it wasn’t that bad of a crime!” fuck you, man. i’m not kidding.

the fact i’ve witnessed people whitewash his acts of racism, sexism, transphobia, homophobia, antisemitism and misogyny (in fact i’m probably still missing a few things here), and say he’s being harassed by the internet just because he stole articles makes it so clear they have no fucking idea what they’re talking about. his shit isn’t fucking erased just bc he realized that he has to handle the consequences. he’s grasping at anything he can at this point to make sure that even if he’s not coming back, he’s sure as hell trying to take anyone he fucking can down with him.

he doesn’t get a second chance to be a content creator at this point. he doesn’t get to show himself to do better. he needs to fucking leave. and if he tries to publicly make himself the victim then he better know that he’s going to get public backlash.

if anything situation proves to me that he can never be trusted with a public platform ever again because he will immediately guilt people into feeling sorry for him.

[daylighted]

i seriously did not want to do this but if i'm gonna be talked abt behind the scenes, and if ppl i follow are going to start turning on me because of one actual psychopath that has not left me alone for 3 weeks, i'm gonna say my piece because it is not fair to know that i am being painted in a bad light, when i have been a victim, and my friends have been dragged into this because every time, it is made public.

all of this has happened in a span of twenty one days. here's my proof.

this is a server that one of my close friends and most adored people (who, again, like anyone else mentioned in this, should not have been dragged into this fucking tirade) created for spn fans on discord to cultivate a fun little community and to make friends. she acquired the link, i don't know who invited her or if somehow she just found the link if it was posted and joined herself, but she showed up.

four days into her being there, i tell the server, i'm making a mr. & mrs. smith inspired jackles bot. i'd more say 3, because i posted it at midnight that day. eleven hours later, she says 'i wanna make a mr. & mrs. smith dean bot.' so my whole idea. and i am not a confrontational person by nature, so i was trying to lightly discourage without straight up saying no, because i did not know this girl. it'd been a little over 3 days.

i have the person i was replying to blurred because i'm actually sick of people getting dragged into this that did not have any reason to be put in between her shit with me, whatever the hell that may be.

here is me lightly trying to deny it but not outright saying no, and maybe that's on me, but who in their right mind sees someone else's idea and eleven hours later just blatantly copies it?

and she did copy it. word for word. this is my intro message on the left, and this is hers on the right. it's literally word for word, practically, with the lines lining up and everything.

so i'm angry. i don't care abt follower account but now i'm going to look like the thief because at this point, i'm not anywhere near big. like 300 followers. which again, don't care about, but sometime between the span of this above and what's coming, she'd been posting abt a milestone very close to 1k. that is a clear difference, and an abuse of the writing channel, that is supposed to have been a safe place for us to share our ideas.

i don't say anything about this, though. my breaking point is when she discovers my bonnie & clyde au and says she wants to make a bot based on it. which maybe i would have said yes to someone else, but she'd stolen my idea already before, word for word, and i wasn't in the mood. so i politely told her no, and that i was planning on making bots out of all of my aus. and she goes something like, "oh, that's fine, i just really liked the idea is all." i have deleted our dms on discord because i didn't want her reaching out to me again, which does come up!

anyways, i think it's cool. i'm thinking she's not going to take anything else, because i denied her one thing, so maybe this was just a one-off.

she posts this into the writing server, like she's showing off that she made the bot anyways / had made it already in the short span of time it took me to reply to her, and was trying to get hype for it??? or something?? or rub it in my face that she made it anyways? i don't know her motives. for anything that happens in this.

not to mention, she made a mr. & mrs. smith dean pt two in this time, for some reason. again, not her idea.

but going back to the above screenshot, that's her chatting with bonnie & clyde!dean. please look here at a screenshot of my fic, literally making it clear that whatever the intro she used for this, it was identical, because the interaction here is identical to my writing.

the day before this, december 1st, she was also asking me to tell her abt the au, but i'm not going to downright say that it was to stake out stuff to steal, but looking back, it seems like it.

so by this point, i'm angry! really angry! because every idea i mention in that chat, gets stolen by her. so i make this post. kind of infamous when it comes to future things.

immediately, she knows it's about her, because she's messaging me everywhere. i. do. not. engage. behind the scenes, i'm talking to people in the server abt it, because i literally am being stolen from and expected to take it! so she gets kicked.

this causes her to message me even more. this causes her to make an entire post ( now deleted by ppl in the server's request, because we thought once 'resolved', it would be resolved ) tagging every single person in the server. not just me, not just the people who came forward or the server's owner, but everyone who has no idea what's going on. trying to pitch her case.

her case being, by the way, that the reason she copied me was because of photographic memory. i feel like i have a screenshot of this but can't find it, and also don't want to keep using all my limited picture spaces. but if i find it and you want to see it, i will show it.

she gets let back into the server on a warning. it's like a 3 strike system, i imagine, which this is where things get psychotic! like genuinely!

the very day that i tell her no to the bonnie & clyde thing, i get this in my inbox.

on god, never before have i been told this ever. and i'm supposed to believe that it's not a coincidence, when the only person i've 'wronged' on tumblr so far is her, and just for calling her out on her shit? i've literally been on tumblr for maybe 2 months maximum at this point. like i only know a handful of people, and most are in this server.

so i move on. whatever. one of my friends from the server makes a post ( that i rb-ed, but i'm not gonna link it because again, i'm keeping them out of this if i can, but it's also on my page still ) in my defense, because genuinely, it is not that fucking serious to tell a fanfic writer to kill themselves.

after she posts it, she gets an anon telling her to track them. and then one telling her to kill herself. again, i'm not posting who's doing this, but she responded to it, and it's on her account if you need to see more proof.

so you might be thinking, how do you know this is her? it's a lot of circumstantial evidence and gut feelings. and yes, i did doubt it at the time that maybe it wasn't, and i was just paranoid, but literally sometime last week, she not only:

messaged me 4 times privately on discord to reply to a question i already answered (being like do you think i'm a bad person? or something like that. but i answered it! and she added something on the end that i didn't see because i was busy and in a different timezone.)

tagged me twice in the server to try and get my attention for this question.

private messaged me here on tumblr.

sent an ask, which i do still have & a screenshot in case it gets deleted btw, about it.

MADE. A THROWAWAY ACCOUNT. BAITING ME INTO REPLYING TO IT. it was a comment abt a fic, so i said thank you, and within 3 fucking minutes max, she sent me ANOTHER message on discord saying "please stop ignoring me." THE ACCOUNT NOW, IS GONE. SO THAT'S HOW I KNOW IT'S HER. you will see later, too, that this is fitting for her character.

i know that screenshot is not much to go off of, but that account did not follow me, did not even like or interact with that fic. i remember taking that screenshot because i was like, there's no way this is her, like actually no way, because the first message to get me to say anything was just like a compliment. and the moment i replied, she messages me, and after i message back, i get the above response. i hope this makes sense.

this is her strike 2, by the way, because i was getting harassed and i wasn't going to sit there and be like yeah this is fine that this is happening to me. i am six hours, maybe more, behind her timewise. as you can see in the screenshot, it was 1:27 am for me.

so all of this happens, and she's getting increasingly more passive aggressive. she keeps bringing up CONSTANTLY that none of us interact with her things anymore, which is crazy to me, because she hardly interacted with ours but expected things back for her. not to mention, of course i wasn't going to interact with someone the same after that someone stole my shit.

all of this leads to december 17th, which yes, was yesterday. which i'm assuming is her big crashout because it's the only reason i can think of anything else that it could be??? but me and a lot of the other server members get anons like this. which is why, like i said earlier, i am convinced the kys is her. this one is the one i received.

and these are a couple that my friends did.

none of us reply, and she's spamming in the chat asking if we got anything, and we all deny it, because we know it's her. like, who else comes into other people's asks to talk shit on someone else? it makes no sense. especially people that the anon wouldn't have known? that she was friends with? i wasn't even in her little intro tagged post, like a lot of the server was before now, so it's literally a dead giveaway that this is her.

when she gets to me, though, after being told i think twice that no, none of us received anything, tumblr must have eaten it, her message changes. and she's like "i just got a second ask telling me that you definitely got one." and when i asked to see the screenshot of the ask that name drops me, she says she deleted it. like how convenient, right?

so this is where things get absolutely mental. more so than they are.

the dani era. shortlived but absolutely insane. suddenly she's leaving her account, as you probably saw from one of her posts that's now deleted, but i might have a screenshot.

you can't really see it but she changed her server name to dani too, and you might have seen her account before literally this afternoon, was daniisms. so again, she is kicked, because suddenly handing off your account to a stranger is weird and violates the rules. i am not in charge of the kicking, by the way, if for some reason you think i am. i literally am just a person in the server who for some reason was targetted? idk.

i don't want to air out her shit but this is the reasoning she provided for why she was quitting and 'dani' was taking over. sorry it's so small i was on my laptop n so it's just. like that.

in a later message, she brings up how specifically she is depressed... because of lack of engagement from us. literally. and i get that that's upsetting, but she just handed over her whole account allegedly? because of it? that's insane to me.

so after she's kicked, she starts messaging some of us on discord, i got an ask.

this, also, is still in my drafts, because i was going to privately be like arty this is actually clinical please seek help, but it wouldn't let me post it privately so i didn't! because i never wanted! any of this! public! from the very beginning!

also you can see there, the username change. so a lot of us block her. i didn't because i wanted to see if being kicked and no longer apart of the server would make her give it up, which yeah, i should have, but i give a lot of benefit of the doubt if you can't tell, when all it does is bite me in the ass.

because a lot of people got blocked, she made an account called bella-oftheball, and only followed two people from the server, commented on one of my random fics, and on the account right now, her only like is another person from the server's. not to mention, the header on the account is literally exactly her edit style. again. blocked.

so this morning. all of us are getting messages from arty again, suddenly back on her account, and claiming that all of this is a hacker. that she hasn't even been here for weeks. so this is the first time she's seeing any of this allegedly and she's confused, doesn't understand why she's gone from the server, her discord account's deleted...

still here in my friends list. lol. and she's in my asks, as you can see where i answer it. so you can see her exact defense and then her in the comments.

now i just want you to tell me why a hacker would:

post all of her drafts

target a spn tumblr writing acct??? like?

and none of her sideblogs ?

make up ANOTHER persona aka the friend named dani.

go through the effort of liking some of our things when she did, and interacting with all of us in the server???

because hackers usually idk. delete the entire accounts. or post awful things on someone else's accts. they wouldn't just run it like their own ??????

so yeah. she's back on tumblr btw, as artyandink, as arty. i'm posting this because her intro message has changed to no longer have any of the server ( not me, never me, and i wonder why! ) but people that i know she's telling all of this too and painting not only me as a bad guy, but also my friends who literally only are involved because they were defending me. dragged into this shit for daring to believe me.

i am making this both in my defense and as a warning. please be careful around this person! she switches identities on a dime to fit her narrative, will harass you if you don't answer fast enough, will harass you if you say anything she doesn't like, and will literally torment your entire friend group if she deems fit, as a form of sick pleasure or something. again, i don't know her motive, just that i've been going through this behind the scenes for 3 fucking weeks, all for it to lead up to this, and to have me being pinned by her to people that do not know a thing about this because it was NEVER MEANT. TO BE PUBLIC. OR THIS INSANE.

<3 please stay safe ily guys.

[amorremanet]

For Fandom confession ask game: I think jiang cheng loved Wei wuxian in a more than brotherly or platonic way but didn't have the emotional knowledge to recognize it and that's why it hurt him so bad when Wei wuxian defected from the jiang sect and later went off lan wangji because Wei wuxian was supposed to be his person and he left him behind

Y E A H

YEAH

And this isn't even me being amatonormative about it, because it doesn't even have to be romantic or sexual to be an intensity that is beyond what is typical of siblings or best friends or sworn confidantes. I posted once about how Jiang Cheng embodies Jo March's reaction to John Brooke asking to court Meg in Little Women:

“Of course not. It would be idiotic! I knew there was mischief brewing. I felt it, and now it’s worse than I imagined. I just wish I could marry Meg myself, and keep her safe in the family.“

IF ONLY HE COULD MARRY WEI WUXIAN HIMSELF AND KEEP HIM SAFE IN THE FAMILY!!

Of course, if you are interpreting this in a romantic/sexual context, there is SO MUCH to unpack there, especially re: his resentment towards Wangji, and it is outrageous to me that it's not one of the top Jiang Cheng ships.

[just-hyde]

AI is theft.

Character.Ai still uses **stolen** data. Support real artists and writers. RP with real people.

IAMREALpleasegimmeahotchocotugmeinandgimmeasinglegoodreasontoliiiveeeeaaaaAAAAAAA

*Breakdown joins the chat*

An anon? How courageous of you. /lh

Actually right now you did what many chatbot users do— hide behind Persona just in case people don't accept your writing/rp style. But it's easier to play safe, I give you that. Your mental health should be your first priority no matter what people say

I do my art, write snippets of text, develop OCs and RP with people, but still make chatbots on different platforms

Why?

For shits and giggles

But no, friends, seriously

We already live with that and apparently are gonna continue to, unless the authorities decide to step in

For me cai was a tool to improve my vocabulary since 1) not so many native speakers were willing/had time to help, 2) even if they did, we had jobs and damn timezones which made our coordination harder, 3) I found out that ppl were simply too shy to play

Recently I've learned the term "Cringe culture" which is cringe itself and hella annoying at that— some writers are fucking scared to post, to be met with toxicity instead of actually useful critique

Anywho, the topic is controversial af.

On one hand, it did writers dirty. Well, fuck. On the other hand, your T9 was also trained on something and I deem LLM no much smarter than a huge T9 [a predictive text technology which almost every keyboard for phones and tablets has]

The problem I see is that the ai developers didn't ask for any data

How much easier everything would go if they had manners and/or paid for some materials? I usually don't mind lending a pen if someone asks, but can bite one's hand off if they grab it

As you might've noticed, I wanna use this ask to bring up some other interesting topics

My man, I've heard enough of "Why trying if ai renders better than me/uses better words"

Anxiety.

That's what makes me sad

If we ever manage to change that, to make people realise that human-made art is a freaking precious treasure with hours of effort spent on it, maybe earth heals and unicorns return

You buy funny one-nickel-worth stuff from Aliexpress, no? That's AI. As well as a half-gnawled pencil one finds in their old school backpack to write down an anecdote they've just heard

It's easy to focus on the bad side

If fish is ill in a dirty tank, are you gonna add more sand? Pfftt. I assume you gonna change filters, scrub that bastard clean and add more lil fishies to make others feel less lonely, instead of rumbling that you shouldn't have gotten any new weeds for the the bowl in the first place, because, who would've guessed, fish eat that. And poop. —a process natural as breathing

My suggestion is that we try to create a safe space which would encourage writing outside of roleplay, make young artists feel safe regardless of their level of skill

Or maybe I'm too far from the Internet in general and don't understand why writing example messages for a silly toy is suddenly a bad thing when it encourages kids to try themselves in text RPGs without any risk of being judged for that

An interesting topic you gave me, really, I've spent some time contemplating about it

Feel free to suggest things that we, as a community, can do right here and right now, because, gods know, I'm personally unable to atta-ta a corporation for "using language we all speak", especially when chatbots have some features which would be a damn shame not to use in language learning since it's so engaging and teaches kids new words in a forgiving game-like way

Though I hope there will be some law regulating ai and the use of ai-made products soon. Let's give it some time

[dukeofdelirium]

I was inclined to believe Nick before that post, but his response indeed reads like he took advantage of the byler community back in the day only to come back 2 years later and not only confirm he was just using our hype, but also lowkey call us illiterate and delusional. Biggest red flag ever.

Yup, that’s what I’m saying. He took advantage of ppl bc he saw the buzz of the ship community, he got what he wanted and then dipped when the writers exposed is lying ass on socials. Now he sounds like he’s batting for mileven for multiple reasons, one being that he probably figures he can’t scam bylers anymore since most are wary of him for good reason. And two, he might try to scam milevens this time around lol. Especially with how desperate they’ve been for any news, it wouldn’t shock me if he tries to do something like that. Which would be awful. As much as I don’t like the ship or most of the shippers, no one deserves to get scammed.

Ppl are too damn gullible. Don’t trust random ppl online who claim they have sources or know stuff. No matter how you dice it, this 8flix guy is a fraud. He was lying then or he’s lying now. And regardless of when you think he was lying, at the end of the day, he’s a thief.

Seriously guys, don’t give some asshole your hard earned money for crumbs of info that are very likely not true. It’s fine to speculate. It’s fine to theorize. It’s all in good fun. But it stops being fun when someone starts asking people for pay outs. It starts being a concern the second people start getting stolen from

[avelera]

(Heimerdinger anon here) Thank you sm for your thoughts, TBH I hadn't even really considered that Heimerdinger in the alternate dimension might just be making the best out of a shitty situation and doesn't want to introduce Hextech just for himself, which.. yeah fair, I guess I was making my assumption with s1 Heimerdinger in mind and didn't recognize this as character growth. I do like how he is written overall and that he only ever causes harm unintentionally/out of ignorance, because we don't see this type of character very often. I guess my biases are showing because he can be really flippantly cruel sometimes without even realizing and I know ppl like that IRL so the death sirens were activating on sight lmao (your post made me reevaluate some things, basically). Out of curiosity, how do you think Heimerdinger would have reacted to Arcane-infected Jayce and the Machine Herald? I personally think he would have been really shaken

Thank you!

I think the narrative treats Heimerdinger pretty kindly as inflicting most of the harm he does out of ignorance or naiveté, rather than malice or self-interest. He wants what's best for everyone in the long-run, he's just naturally become detached from the normal cycle of a human life, which leads him to the abject cruelty you mentioned. It is a flaw, but I think Arcane takes into account that it's not intentional and sort of punishes him accordingly, since no one in the narrative is perfect.

That said, I absolutely don't blame anyone for getting Kill Bill sirens about him lol. A lot of what he does in S1 especially is so unintentionally cruel and indirectly harmful that it makes my jaw drop. I think he more than most characters deserves a lot of recrimination. "Nice" is different than "good", a fact that goes a long way to making a lot of people think he's harmless, when really his greatest crime is negligence, and he's also not perfect. He's right about Hextech but he is wrong about Jayce not presenting the new crystals, for example. Not that Heimerdinger could have known, but if Jayce had presented the crystals on stage, there's no way Jinx could have stolen them.

As for your question about how how he would have reacted basically to Act 3 Viktor and Jayce, I have 2 answers:

1 ) Doylist (out of universe): I think one reason the narrative deliberately removed Heimerdinger from the story for Act 3 is because the tone of his character is so at odds with the war that ensues and the seriousness of infected Jayce and Machine Herald Viktor. Like Hoskel and Bolbok, Arcane in S2 rather carefully removes a lot of our silly, bizarre, or comedy relief characters like Heimerdinger from the narrative so they don't contrast with the tone.

2 ) Watsonian (in universe): I think it would have taken every ounce of the new-found grace and understanding for short-lived people for Heimerdinger to now say the world's longest, loudest, "I TOLD YOU SO," at the sight of the final result of Jayce and Viktor's choices that he warned them against at every stage. That said, I don't think Jayce would fight him on that point at all. Jayce heard a lot of Heimerdinger's voice in the torture cave specifically. I think he'd give Heimerdinger a big hug and an apology and maybe cry a bit more because his whole life would be so much less of a fucking mess if he had listened.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: The Heretical Liberal

Published: Jun 18, 2024

Lots of responses to this post I made the other day laying out the case for why trans activism is homophobic, most of them supportive. For the few that weren't, here's a thread where I brought the receipts. If my earlier post was opening arguments, consider this the full case: 🧵

First up, the charities, such as Stonewall and GLAAD. These are the groups that were originally set up as gay rights advocates, but were retooled around 2015 into trans rights advocates, and - since trans activism seeks to erase homosexuality - promptly began to do exactly that

With the anti-gay activists now in charge and setting the tone, media now takes the reins and begins subtly erasing the very notion of same-sex attraction, suggesting that lesbians who don't want to date ppl with penises, and gay men not interested in vaginas are hateful bigots

And more of the same nonsense:

With the activists dictating, and the media following their lead, the homophobia inevitably trickles down. This manifests in different forms, but one of them is the psychological torture of homosexuals, some of whom have come to believe their innate orientation means they're bigots

But mostly the biggest effect is in the trans community itself, who have increasingly internalized the idea that same-sex attraction doesn't exist, and thus, any ppl who claim to be exclusively same-sex attracted are actually just transphobic bigots who can be abused at will

The rest is just gonna be a firehose of hate, as I try to dispel the idea that this homophobia is "just a few bad apples" instead of the truth: it's a core component underpinning the entire ideology transgenderism, as are the violent threats that often accompany it:

I could go on and on, but I think the point here is made. Homophobia doesn't just exist in the trans community, it's RIFE in it. It's a feature, not a bug, the erasure of sex (and by extension, homosexuals) is a core goal of trans activism. Hopefully this has opened some eyes /end

--

Threadreader:

==

Firstly, if you're shocked by this, then you haven't been paying attention.

This is what it looks like when the mentally ill use academic gobbledygook to pathologize the normal and normalize the pathological.

You're not crazy: same sex attraction and opposite sex attraction are real things and completely normal. You may have either or both (bisexual). Their stupid buzzwords don't - and can't - change that. Nor turn it into a "genital preference."

If you take away nothing else, know that an accusation of being "transphobic" is a predator trying to emotionally manipulate and blackmail you into allowing access by the predator beyond your boundaries. Whether that be sexual boundaries, to simply how you address others, and anything and everything in between.

You never have to justify your boundaries. Someone who tries to make you, or who tells you that you need to "rethink" your boundaries, or particularly who acts morally superior about their purported higher evolved absence of boundaries is a full-blown predator. No, I'm not being hyperbolic. When I say "predator," I mean they're a predator. You're talking to someone who is dangerous and not to be trusted, because they see your boundaries as something to be overcome, circumvented or "fixed." They do not respect you and they feel entitled to what they want from you. They are dangerous. They are a predator. By definition.

In the very definition of an abusive relationship, these virulently anti-gay fanatics also won't let LGB operate without them. Because they'll lose their human shields and their stolen valor they've misappropriated from the gay rights movements. Which is the point in the movie where the abuser shouts, "without me, you're nothing! I won't let you leave! If I can't have you, no one will!" And then something horrible happens.

[gold-rhine]

How do you feel about the two big neuvi juggernauts rn, neuvifuri and wrioneuvi

tbh i'm ambivalent about both of these. im simply a dragon protection unit advocating against mistreatment.... bc for some reason ppl ooc neuvi in two wildly different directions to fit into heteronormativity stereotypes for these two ships. like with rizzley they feminize him drastically, and on the other side with furina they make like stoic uber masculine idk hot math teacher stereotype. both are super annoying tbh. let the poor dragon be, magic evolution already yassified him into french man in reincarnation, has he not suffered enough. stop gendering him so badly, hes not even human, hes a lizard.

with furina im also quite peeved how ppl will try to pretend that they loved each other for all these years (no they didn't), how furina was the one who made him love humanity (no she did not categorically), etc etc. bc i think they have very complicated relationship due to power dynamics of archon\ dragon whose power was stolen by this archon, and trying to erase it make them much less interesting. like furina straight up shut down every their argument in archon quests by going "i'm an archon, you should do as i say bc i'm the god". which she probably didn't know has vastly different implications for the dragon sovereign who sees her as false god, ruling with his power. of course now that she knows, she thinks he hates her, just as she said in her story quest. there is an interesting tension there that i think could be fun to explore bc yeah, they also have 500 years of history. they barely talked, but she knows where he would like to be at this time of day, that kind of familiarity. but i think if you wanna see their relationship explored, esp in romantic sense, you gotta start from right now, from the awkwardness and complications, instead of pretending they are already end game in love.

with rizzwolfsley i remember i saw one post that said that its like fleabag vibes, like they know they can't be together bc of Duty, and i can see it tbh, like rizzley is v feabag to me with his trauma that he pretends hes fine with, but obv a bleeding wound in his back, with sarcastic facade keeping ppl from looking too close, the nonchalant attitude covering painful tension. and as he grew up with this dagger in his back literally in prison, around petty human vices and learned to shield in irony-poisoned attitude, i can see him being drawn to neuvi, steadfast, incorruptible, powerful, but never using it for selfish reasons, fresh clear water in the midst of dark muddy swamp, larger than life, inhuman in his mercy. i can see it, the little wow, it works. the bittersweetness of yearning, awkward stolen moments, it has potential

[tortoisebore]

ff author interview !! 🧚

wahhhh thank u for tag @fruityindividual 🧚✨🧚✨

How many works do you have on ao3

2 (#3 is in the drafts & i’m mustering the courage to post on anon 🧚)

What’s ur total ao3 word count

212,244

Top 5 stories by kudos

#1 is hey, sharpshooter (she’s still going insane w waves of new readers like im shocked)

#2 is the anon smut i posted forever ago lmfao

Do u reply to comments

i love responding to comments but i am so behind rn im so sorry 😭

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending

technically it’s a wip & i dont think it’ll ever be finished or published but it was a sad little remus pov thing (typical) where he was just miserably in love w his childhood best friend for like 15 years & sirius was having a very bad time forever and ever & not able to make room for anything but surviving even tho they loved each other etc etc (i think i listened to house song like 100 times in one day & said wow. wow how can i make this even gayer and sadder)

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending

hey sharpshooter !! also the ending of the sequel is already written & it’s perhaps even happier !!

Do you write crossovers

noooo crossovers always feel very that’s-so-suite-life-of-hannah-montana to me lmfaoo i haven’t ever been able to get into one

Have you ever received hate on a fic

idk ab hate but i have received passive aggressive comments/asks ab how often i update & i have been subtweeted bc some teenagers didn’t like that i made remus a jock </3333

Do you write smut

atp almost exclusively, it’s just all being posted on anon lmfao

Have you ever had a fic stolen

no 🧚

Have you ever had a fic translated

yeth, some very nice ppl are translating hey sharpshooter into russian over on ficbook

Have you ever co-written a fic before

no </3 im so sporadic in my writing motivation that i fear i’d be a terrible co-writer & everyone else would be Frustrated With Me & then i would have to pull out all my hair & run into the forest & throw myself off a bridge etc etc

What’s your all-time favorite ship

atp i feel like it has to be wolfstar bc i’ve been solely interacting w it for like 5 years. they r so special to me

Whats a fic that you want to finish but dont think you ever will

that angsty little remus pov </3 it’s too sad to finish lmao

What are your writing strengths

i am being so very genuine when i say i have no idea. probably like conveying violently self-destructive amounts of yearning lmfaoooo

What are your writing weaknesses

my motivation isn’t consistent & when im not in a very specific headspace i cant get even a single bare-bones sentence out of my brain. also i sort of write in circles & over explain things lmfao it’s all basically just me rambling in a character’s pov

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic

i am guilty of this 😈 very very grateful for the french speaker who left a comment on hey sharpshooter like a month or two ago & said “uh hey. this doesn’t make sense <3” & saved my life lmfao

Whats a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

idkkkkk im so stuck on wolfstar i haven’t even thought of writing anything else. this is the only “fandom” im even a little bit into anymore & i barely interact w it outside of tumblr/ao3 jhfgfkjg

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written

has to be hey sharpshooter simply bc i cant believe i actually finished it lmfaooooo

tagging @moonheavens (sorry if u’ve already been tagged/posted 💕) & anyone else that wants to play 🧚🧚🧚🧚🧚🧚

[skunkes]

I've talked about this before I think but I think "art theft culture" is actually what makes scenarios like this worse... and I Know because I've mentioned that it happened to me before, where a few years ago I was heavily inspired by an artist for a couple of style study drawings without acknowledging them as inspiration, they contacted me after their friends notifed the similarities, and it was resolved as I explained that I had no "plans" for long term theft or passing off as my own, I was just passing by and figuring out what I liked about the style. But I should have just mentioned them!

And that's the point I'm trying to get at here, I feel for a lot of people there's still either shame in using references (I took the upper half of a pose for a recent comm from one of the first memorable google image results for it... How embarrassing!), and there's similar in openly admitting that somebody is currently directly inspiring you, or that you liked something someone made so much you're making your own spin on it.

This is probably because you don't know how people (your audience or the original creator, or THEIR audience) are going to react with regards to """theft""" (which I also feel varies. Like everyone I've seen trying to emulate my style has never gotten close. Which is how it works! Its a good thing! Absorb it into your own! Thats what I do!

But I've also had someone lift every aspect of my art identity and basically try to replicate exact pieces, poses, and dialogue of mine with their characters like oh ok nvm this is kinda weird.) so I get it, because it's scary! It happened to Me, I was a perpetrator LOL and that's that it was style inspiration and not direct copying so I get it... I feel it all the time too, but I wish it wasn't like this in General ykwim. Wish it didn't feel so humiliating to admit influence

EDIT: THIS IS ALSO NOT ME SAYING "you need to list off all your inspirations every single time you post a drawing"

Its more like oh this person is using my exact brushes and exact colors and exact half traced poses and my handwriting and exact dialogue and personal symbols to the point where they're pretending my autobiographic doodles happened to them while pretending they've never seen my stuff in their life, or even shit talking me. Some of these individual aspects are okay (I've literally shared all my brushes with everyone, for example, who cares. My colors are awesome...who cares. 4 petal flower shapes don't belong to anyone, I don't care.) But all of them in combination is what's weird. Ykwim. Like that level of "hey man what the fuck"

I'm about to answer an ask going more into depth about this but I also need to explain that it's hard being on the other end of this too because it really isn't that serious ykwim... I see ppl on twitter get clowned on every day because "you can't steal a style" and that's mostly true. Me and some mutuals "steal" aspects from each other all the time without "crediting" because it's obvious, or we know each other, as well as the "stolen" stuff being something we already made our own thing, so I promise this isn't about that. Art is meant to be shared and inspire and influence.

I'd never point fingers unless it got severe over a long period of time (not adapting it into your own style), with someone who wouldn't talk it out with me but sometimes I wish I could show some of these specific examples, like I promise I'm not blowing up because someone """stole""" uhhhh the little squiggles I add to my commissions. I myself "stole" that from deco sticker sheets. Who gives a shit.