#sometimes they are with me but sometimes I am with Them

[gloomwitchwrites]

T141 with the TikTok ‘put your boyfriend on the counter’ prank? 😭

It doesn’t matter how many TikTok pranks y’all send in, I love them all. It’s always so fun for me to try and figure out what would happen and how the guys will react. I’ve only seen this prank a few times on the app, but I knew what you were talking about immediately! Thanks for sending it in!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): humor, swearing, shenanigans, domestic fluff, brief suggestive themes (Soap’s)

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John tolerates your shenanigans. Tolerate isn’t the right word. Sometimes he simply rolls his eyes and goes about his day. Other times, he’s laughing along with you, perplexed and impressed by your ingenuity.

And here you are, ready to startle him all over again. It’s a habit, and part of your personality. John married you after all. He knew exactly what he was getting when he said “I do.”

Finding the perfect angle, you go for it, sliding across the kitchen floor in your socks, nearly falling over when you try to stop yourself next to John.

He cocks an eyebrow. Starts to turn. “What—”

The question dies on his lips.

Your arms are around his thighs in seconds. Holding tight, you start to lift.

“No,” says John when he realizes what’s happening. “No!”

Knowing to lift with the knees and not the back, you do just that, and when John is up in the air, you wobble.

John stiffens as you plop him onto the counter. You stand back. Beam. Give him a wink.

He slides off the counter, shaking his head, eyes skyward. “I am happily married,” he says, voice strained. “I am happily married,” he repeats.

John "Soap" MacTavish

You need a running start. You won’t lift him otherwise.

It’s a brief forward charge with bent knees and arms outstretched. You look like a crab as you scuttle across the kitchen floor. Wrapping your arms around Johnny’s thighs, you retain your momentum, lifting him off the floor and onto the kitchen counter.

He stays still at first, all of his limbs locked into the same position as when you lifted him. He stares at you in disbelief.

Johnny places his hands on his knees. “You—” He pauses a moment, and then grins. “You fucking picked me up.”

“I did,” you confirm, proud of yourself.

“Lifted with your knees.”

“Just like you taught me.”

Johnny’s head tilts slightly, a flirtatious gleam in his eye. A familiar heat crawls up the back of your neck to ensnare your cheeks. He leans in, shifting his arm so that his elbow digs into his knee and his head rests in his hand.

“With your newfound strength I think we could switch it up in the bedroom.”

“Johnny!” you laugh, smacking his legs.

“What?” he chuckles. “Not interested in topping me?”

You cover your face with both hands, groaning loudly as he laughs.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Can’t bloody believe this,” mutters Simon.

His back is to you as he stares down at the pile of mail on the kitchen counter. Spreading them out like a fan, Simon begins to organize the different envelopes, grumbling under his breath the entire time.

You don’t announce your arrival, but you don’t hide it either. With a casual hop to your step, you enter the kitchen, walking up behind Simon. He gives you a brief glance, and when you come to a stop directly behind him, Simon reaches for you, lightly tapping your hip before returning to his task.

Wrapping your arms around his middle, you connect your hands at his front. Simon places one hand over your clasped ones, but he doesn’t turn around to address you.

You don’t have his complete attention. And it’s attention you want. Simon’s attention.

Sliding down, you stop at his thighs. Putting all your strength in your legs, you lift.

And grunt.

And strain.

And huff.

And gasp for air.

You drop him, staggering back, unsuccessful in putting him on the counter.

Simon slowly turns. “What the bloody hell are you doing?”

“Why are you so heavy?” you wheeze, collapsing to the floor.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle leans against the kitchen counter. He holds a mug and the morning newspaper. Taking a sip from the mug, Kyle is in his own little world, oblivious to you lurking just around the corner.

You watch like a predator hunting prey, waiting until the perfect moment to move in. You’re always surprising him, and this will be no different.

As you step into the kitchen, Kyle briefly glances up from the newspaper. “Morning, love,” he says, voice full of sweetness.

When he glances back, you come up in front of him. Bending at the knees, you wrap your arms around his thighs. It’s difficult but you manage. And with all of your strength. You lift, and plot him onto the kitchen counter.

Kyle blinks, his arms outstretched like a scarecrow.

“Did—did you just pick me up and put me on the counter?” he asks, baffled.

You place your hands on your hips, beaming. “Sure did. Like it was hard.”

Shaking his head, guffaws, and then begins to laugh in earnest.

“What?” you prompt, suddenly confused.

Kyle places the tea mug down. “You can lift me but you couldn’t help move the dining table the other day.”

“Listen—"

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @suhmie @z-wantstowrite @kylies-love-letter @keiva1000

@iloveslasher @ravenpoe67 @sadlonelybagel @nishim @arrozyfrijoles23

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @sageyxbabey @glassgulls @miaraei

@weasleytwins-41 @eternallyvenus @chaostwinsofdestruction @cherryofdeath @ninman82

@fern-reads @waves-against-a-cliff @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx

@jianyi22 @sethell @atpeacee @konigssweatyhood @dreamingoftomorrow

@katerinaval @morguethemagpie @galactict3a @sarah-the-bird-nerd @mikachu-bitez

@unclearblur @kurochan3

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

Hello, I hope you're fine!! If you are open for requests, how do you think the lads men would react to mc telling them her period is late?

Hii, so sorry for the delay. Uni and work have been crazy and I finally managed to sit down to write

Soo let's start with Zayne. He tracks your period so he knows it's late, hence he doesn't even seem fazed when you burst into his office panicking.

"Yes, 8 days to be exact. You've been under stress these two weeks and don't even eat meals properly. Although, I suggest taking a test and in case of pregnancy I'll schedule and appointment with the gynecologist in our hospital"

You can't help but look at him shocked by his calm demeanour.

"Of course, I would tell all of these 2 days ago if only you didn't ditch our appointment. Now, if you excuse me I have a patient waiting for me in surgery room"

He rose from his chair heading to the door but stopped in front of you.

"I hope you know, in case of pregnancy you don't have anything to worry about"

You just nod your head still dumbfounded and he left the room with a kiss on your forehead.

I imagine Sylus also tracking your period and he wants you to be pregnant so bad. He is the one to tell you that you're pregnant, actually. One night, when you're in the kitchen deciding on late night snack he stands beside you with his arms crossed.

"Your period is late"

He brushes off your question about him tracking your period, instead repeating his statement. You make a mental calculations and just shrug.

"Only by 3 days. It's no big deal"

He clears his throat.

"It might become a big deal. You should take a test just in case"

"It happens sometimes. Like I said, no big deal"

"Take a test, just to be sure"

"First of all it's too early. Second of all, we use protection-"

"We know it doesn't protect 100% of times"

"Oh, stop worrying, will you? I'm not pregnant"

You finally decide on strawberry yogurt.

"I think you are mistaken, sweetie. I do not fret over the possibility of you being pregnant. Quite the opposite, if we are being honest..." he mumbles the last part under his breath but you squint at him.

"Sylus"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Do you want me to be pregnant or something?"

A small smirk pulls on his mouth

"I am definitely not opposed to the idea"

You shake your head standing on your toes to peck his cheek but he turns his head to kiss you. Even after dating him for so long this small gesture leaves you blushing mess.

"I'll be in our room" you tell him and he nods still with the lovestruck look on his face. Once you leave the room he pinches his nose mumbling about canceling the order of baby-proof items.

Poor Rafayel doesn't know what hit him. Sure he has imagined having a family with you but didn't expect it to be so soon. What do you mean there might be a baby? He's the baby. There's going to be another person you'll love as much as you love him? He has to share now? This can't get worse. And as you look at him nervously he realises you're waiting for his answer.

"Late... okay, cool cool cool...  how late?"

"7 days"

He scoffs as if it's nothing.

"7 days is nothing, right? It's- uh did you take the test?"

"Yes-"

"It's negative, right?"

His hopeful tone makes you scrunch your eyebrows.

"It is" you say hesitantly "but it's still too early to be sure. I'll take another one tomorrow"

"Yeah, of course. Okay"  He seems to calm down

"Umm Rafayel... do you not want me to be-" you clear your throat "what if I'm pregnant?"

It just hit him that he's making this worse for you.

"Oh, cutie. It's not that. I want to have children with you... someday" he avoids your eyes "it's just... yourattentionwouldbeonthemallthetime"

You just give him a look that hints you have no idea what he just said. He sighs, giving up.

"Your attention would be on them and you'll cast me aside and I'm not ready for that" He admits blushing.

"Okay well, if I turn out to be pregnant..." you trail off not knowing, or not wanting, to finish your sentence.

"I'll be there, all the way. That's my kid too, ya know"

You crack a small smile

"You're weird"

"Well, you're not perfect either" he scoffs "nevermind, you are perfect"

You just laugh at him.

Xavier is so confused

"It's late. That's amaaaziiing....lyy bad..?" He tries to construct a sentence based on your expression but fails miserably "can you tell me what that means?"

"Well I don't know. It might be nothing serious but there's a chance I might be pregnant but we always use protection so I don't know how..." You sit with your head in your hands "I'm scared"

Xavier falling silent doesn't help your panic at all.

"Please say something"

"I'm going to be a father?"

You let out a confused laugh.

"I don't know. Probably not, but you might. I have an appointment with doctor Zayne tomorrow so maybe we'll know"

"I'm going to be a father"

You start to think you broke him

"Xavier... we don't know yet"

"Yeah, of course. But I would like to have a child with you"

He closes the distance, placing his hands on your hips

"Do you not want to..."

"I wasn't planning on it yet, but I'm not against it"

He smiles gently.

"Don't get your hopes up yet, though"

"Of course"

But as you leave the room you hear him saying "I'm gonna be a dad" to himself.

One evening, Caleb comes home and lets out a sigh when he enters kitchen.

"Okay, why is the breakfast I made for you still untouched in the refrigerator? We agreed you'd eat meals properly y'know?.. Pipsquak?" He calls out in the end when he receives no answer from you. He finds you in your bedroom sitting on the bed with your knees to your chest.

"What's wrong?" He's alert.

"My period is late"

"Oh my god" He starts laughing sitting beside you and pulling you into a hug. "No wayy, did you take a test? Are we gonna have little you and me running around? I'm definitely teaching them how to shoot a gun"

"Shut up for a minute" you grumble in his chest "I didn't take a test. It's only 5 days, I don't think test would show it if I was pregnant"

"I'll buy them anyway. Bunch of them, so you can take one everyday till it shows positive"

His ridiculous statement pulls a giggle out of you.

"Glad to know you're okay with it"

"Try ecstatic"

You look up at him and spot a mischievous grin on his face.

"You know... you'd be a milf"

That earns a smack on his chest

"Idiot"

"This idiot is going to be a father of your children, so be nice"

"I might not be even pregnant"

"I can take care of that"

He laughs at another smack he receives.

[illou-sainte]

Jealous? Nah.

pairings: colonel!caleb x nurse!reader

cw: unprotected sex, overstimulation, crying, missionary, jealous!caleb, possession, cosplay, inappropriate use of medical equipment, dom!caleb, rough and nasty sex

You knew damn well how bad Caleb's jealousy was. How and why? It's just that even with a simple glimpse and look into his eyes, you can see the way his pupils dilate whenever you attend to and do check-ups on the workers of the fleet.

It's cute, they say---but it's Caleb. Caleb and jealousy in the same sentence is bad. Really bad.

He knows you're only doing your job as a nurse---but his jealousy is something he couldn't handle. He hates the way those scum colonels and officers look at you with eyes filled with lust and hunger while you're doing your job.

He couldn't shake the thoughts of letting other men touch you and hear your sweet voice, which is exclusively for him. He knows how to handle it sometimes---but there was a certain time when he couldn't.

It was just one regular working day when you tended and did check-ups on the officers' appointments. The officer was surprised to see the Colonel in the same room as them with the nurse. But they didn't dare bring it up---who knows what would've happened if they did?

What hit Caleb's last nerve was when you did a check-up on the officer, placing the chest piece against his chest as you moved it around, trying to find the heartbeat.

"It seems like your beating is unsteady than usual, Sir" You said to him, focused on hearing his heartbeat, while Caleb, on the other hand, was fuming with jealousy. He glared at the officer, who was shamelessly staring at you face-to-face, a smug look on his face. His fists clenched tightly over his lap as he struggled to remain calm at the scene unfolding before him.

As you continued monitoring the heartbeat, you were startled when the officer placed a hand over yours that was holding the piece against his chest and held it.

"Really, Miss? It's probably because of you" He flirted, lips forming a sly smirk---making your eyes widened as you were quick to back away from him. The officer lets out a low chuckle as he shook his head in amusement seeing you jerk your body away.

You sweatdrop and you moved your head where Caleb is sitting at, arm over the desk as he rests his cheek against the palm of his hand---a visible vein on his forehead and....smiling? Oh.

Oh. you're in trouble, big trouble.

Your moans and whines filled the infirmary while Caleb was fucking you balls deep over the hospital bed. His hand reached for his hat and placed it over your head---tilting to the side because of how fast his hips is moving against yours. The buttons of your uniform taken out earlier when he ripped it in one go. Your plushed tits covered with his saliva as it bounces every thrust he gaves your poor aching pussy.

You were in full haziness---intoxicated on how good his fat cock is filling you up to the brim. Tears stream drown your face as he fucks you in missionary---legs wrapped around his waist while he pounds into you relentlessly.

"C-Caleb! Too much--!!!" You cried out, gripping his arms as you try to push him away---but due to his physic you couldn't. He lets out a shaky chuckle and grips your thighs tightly making you squirm in response.

"Hah- w-what...am I not one of your patients that you give your so called special treatment?" He asked, voice low and husky as his eyes focused on your fucked up flustered face. You whined as you shook your head in response. Encouraged by your moans, he increases the force of his thrusts, the headboard of the bed banging against the wall with each thrust.

Oh god, you'd just wished that no one in the fleet was walking in front of the infirmary. Otherwise, you will never know what will happen to your job if someone caught you two. He groans deeply, the thought of getting caught adding to his arousal.

"Tell me..." The Colonel's eyes darken with primal lust, and he begins to fuck you with wild abandon. His hips slamming continuously, driving his cock deep into your throbbing pussy with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixed with your moans and his grunts.

"Ngh- cat got...your tongue...huh?" He muttered, smirk forming his lips. And you can only respond with your soft cries while he fucks you good. His pace quickens, his fat cock slamming into your pussy over and over, the wet sounds of your fucking echoing.

"F-fuck, you're so hot..."

Feeling the stickiness of your sweat and his mixed over your hot bodies---Caleb can't help but adore your fucked up face. It's a proof that with a whip of his fat cock inside your pussy can make your mind circuit. A crying and blabbering mess you are, it's cute he says in his mind. He smirked, amused by your overwhelmed expression as he fills your tight pussy completely.

"...shit... can't even stand a single minute of seeing you in a room with other officers.." His hands roam over your curves possessively as he nuzzles between your tits, his hot breath warming your skin. He can feel how tightly you're wrapped around him, his fat cock stretching your tiny hole. You can't even count how many times he made you cum already---the wetness of the covers under you, proves many times.

The scene that happened earlier keeps on playing inside Caleb's mind over and over again. It irritates him. But for you, you can't help but feel so aroused seeing him so rough and possessive he is with you. Making your throbbing pussy tightened around his fat cock inside of you---earning a soft grunt from him.

You watch his hand reached for the stethoscope that is hanging over your neck and grabbed it. His hand gripping your waist tightly while the other one brings the stethoscope to him, putting the ear piece to both of his ears as the stethoscope hangs. He then grabs the chest piece and brings it to your plushed tits---moving it around, using the saliva as a lubricant to make it slippery to move with, making you squirm in response at the coldness of the metal.

He lets out a chuckle as he moved the piece around your tits and keeps on hitting your perked nipples---making you whimper when he rubs circles around it with the piece.

"I'll be your nurse then.." He said, continuing to slam his fat cock inside your puffy pussy while he keeps on moving the piece around your chest---finding your heartbeat and to tease you.

You let out soft grunts because you were sure he's definitely pushing your buttons and abusing his control over you. Once he finally detected your beatings---he lets out a sly smirk and stopped moving the piece. Leaning close to you and pressing his body against your plushed tits as his hot breath hits your skin making you bit your lip.

"Oops, it seems like your beating is unsteady, Miss" He mimicked your words earlier, making your eyes widened.

"It's probably because of me, right?"

A dick for a day keeps the nurse away!

masterlist

[subrosasteath]

Some Trans-coded moment I could find in Kai's episode because Pixar really did not let Disney stop them:

When Kai sees the softball team for the first time we get a close zoomed in shot on Taylor and Yuwen. This emphasizes two things: that the team is co-ed, and that there is a black girl on the team, someone Kai can relate to and maybe look up to in that I wish I looked like you kind of way

No one in Kai's family refers to to her by pronouns or descriptors like "my son" or "my daughter" until later, once she's already on the team.

The close up shot of the photo of Kai with a trophy has 3 other kids in frame, all of them looking like stereotypical boys. It's hinted at that the team Kai was playing on before was not co-ed, and so this would be an all boys team. This and a photo of Kai up to bat with short hair in a blue shirt are the photos she hides.

From the scene of them all cheering Kai's name at the beginning, I almost thought that was the first time it was said in the episode - it's not. The first time her dad says it in the car. Interesting!

Rest under the cut cause this is a fairly big post and also spoilers for the rest of Kai's episode!

The whole "but you were so good at baseball!" scene - just, you actually can't take the trans coding out of that scene if you tried. "Nothing can change the fact that I love you" . To break it down specifically, the line but you were so good at baseball feels similar to the idea of like "but you were fine as a boy!". It's the kind of statement that sounds like the question "why do you need to change?". This is continued in the next scene with the you liked baseball!, which can be read as a continuation of a worried parent "why do you need to change, i thought you liked yourself before?" they don't even pitch the same - "there are some serious changes here" I feel like read from a different angle it could also be about voices, and how sometimes how your voice sounds can be a source of dysphoria.

Kai wears pink socks for almost every scene she's in around her teammates i think? Blue crocs in the beginning, white socks in the "so you want to switch to uh softball?" scene, and then in the next scene she's in pink socks with a white stripe. The only scene in the episode with blue socks is after she hurts her ankle, when she's tell her dad "it's not a big deal" about the cheating.

Her hair getting longer, obviously <3 She's got a rainbow hairband she wears for the rest of the episode

The vaguely trans-flag looking lighting whenever Kai's floating

"We look so good! We look so good!!" "Hey girls, say pickles!" That scene just makes me happy. Kai has a place she feels right in, with friends and girls who age her accept her and want her around, she get's to be included in the "girls"!!! Like how sweet is this?

And the girl sleepover with all the team girls!!! It's so cute!

Her sinking into the ground powers are so cool. Like - nothing specifically "trans" about this, it just plays into what's already there, that Kai feels like she's either floating so high off the ground or totally stuck in it and how everything in her life feeds into that.

There's definitly more, like so many more, like maybe I'll add onto this post later kind of more, but I am so sleepy now, that I'm just going to post this for now!! Congrats to the writers at Pixar for pushing through even when Disney tried to shut them down. I know I really appreciate it.

[littelovelunette]

Ok PLEASE hear me out but Sevika x reader where Sevika does something really fucked up but she doesn't realize how bad it was and thinks reader is just ignoring her because she's being dramatic and bcs they're both stubborn they don't talk for weeks until Sevika is sick of it and rants to Ran probably and she tells sev like "dude.. you fucked up bad bro" and since Sevika is just so desperate for r's attention she does the most dramatic apology every with flowers, all of r's fav stuff, probably even a hose Ran insisted on holding to make it look like she's in the rain (r notices and says hi to Ran) but um yk if you'd like ofc

Messy But She Tries

Contains angst

Toxic!Sevika x Fem!Reader

The night Sevika betrayed you was the night she proved she didn’t trust you.

It had started with an accusation—one she hadn’t even given you the dignity of hearing first.

Instead, you had walked into The Last Drop to find her sitting at a corner table, drink in hand, watching you like a predator waiting for you to step into the trap.

Her grey eyes had that cold, assessing gleam, the one she used when she was deciding whether or not to throw a punch.

“You got something you want to tell me?” she asked, low and even, but something in her tone made the hair on your arms rise.

“What?” you frowned, stepping closer.

She exhaled, shaking her head like she was disappointed.

“Word is, you’ve been talking to the wrong people. Piltover types. Enforcers.”

You froze. “What?”

Sevika leaned forward, flexing the fingers of her mechanical arm. “Funny, right? ‘Cause I could’ve sworn you weren’t that fucking stupid. But here we are.”

Your stomach turned. “You think I’d—”

“I think you’re gonna tell me the truth before I have to make you.”

And that was the moment. The moment you realized she had already made up her mind.

She wasn’t asking. She wasn’t looking for clarity. She had set a test, and in her mind, you had already failed.

It didn’t matter that you had never even looked at an Enforcer, let alone spoken to one. It didn’t matter that you had stayed at her side, through every close call, every late night, every fucking wound you’d patched up after her fights.

None of it mattered.

“Wow,” you laughed, but it wasn’t funny. It was hollow. Bitter. “So this is what you think of me?”

Sevika didn’t flinch. “I think I need to be careful about who I trust.”

You clenched your jaw. You could see it in her face—the way she was already shutting down, closing herself off like this was just another job.

Another problem she had to eliminate.

“Then don’t,” you said, your voice quiet. “If you think so little of me, don’t trust me. But just so you know, you can take all those allegations of me, stick them up where the sun don't shine. I am done.”

For a second, just a second, you thought she might say something else. That she might take it back. But instead, she picked up her drink and took another slow sip, watching you over the rim.

Cold. Detached. Like she didn’t care.

Like you didn’t matter.

You walked out.

And she let you.

The first few days were the worst.

You kept expecting her to show up. To stop by your place, lean in the doorway with that cocky smirk, and say something half-assed that wasn’t quite an apology but was close enough to mean she wanted things to be okay.

But she never came.

You used to complain about how she smelled like cigar smoke and metal, how her body heat was too much sometimes—but now?

Now the bed felt too big. Too empty.

And she?

She was fine.

“Shit,” Sevika muttered under her breath, slamming her glass onto the bar.

“You’re in a mood tonight,” Ran drawled from her spot beside her. She leaned back, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Let me guess. This have anything to do with that poor girl you ran off a few weeks ago?”

Sevika exhaled sharply through her nose. “Not talking about it.”

“Uh-huh.” Ran took a slow sip of her drink. “Funny, ‘cause you sure as hell won’t shut up about not talking about it.”

Sevika shot her a glare, but Ran just grinned.

"Look, I'm sick of ignoring her," Sevika finally admitted, rolling her drink between her fingers. “But I’m not crawling back, either.”

Ran snorted. “Dumbass, that’s exactly what you need to do.”

Sevika scowled.

“You accused her of snitching,” Ran reminded her, as if she needed the fucking recap.

“Your GIRLFRIEND! The one who’s had your back since day one. And then, instead of fixing it, you let her walk away. So yeah, sweetheart, if you want her back, you ARE crawling. And you’re gonna do it big.”

Sevika groaned, rubbing her face. “I don’t do ‘big gestures.’”

Ran leaned in, smirking. “Then I guess you won't get her back.”

“…What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Ran grinned. “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas.”

When you heard the doorbell ring, you hadn't expected to see Sevika standing on the other side of the door. But you didn't open the door. Instead, you asked from the other side.

“What do you want?” You asked, arms crossing over your chest.

“Open the door,” Sevika said, voice calculated and calm.

“Can you just fuck off already?” you hissed venomously.

“Not unless you hear me out,” Sevika said, her voice now had an undertone of plea, you could hear that she was genuine so you reluctantly opened the door.

You froze when you saw Sevika holding a fat bouquet of your favourite flowers, they looked so fresh and almost heavenly.

“I'm sorry?” Sevika held up the bouquet alongside a huge box of your favourite chocolates, a few shopping bags were dangling from her wrist.

The biggest grin broke on your lips, you giggled, “This is all for me?”

“Mhm,” Sevika gave you the bouquet which you took a whiff of.

“Fresh,” you smiled up at her, “Thank you,” you said shyly before you frowned a little seeing the sprinkles of water as if it was raining.

You squinted over Sevika's shoulder seeing Ran standing in a distance, she was holding a hose of water towards the sky. Ran waved.

You laughed softly, waving back.

“Does that mean I'm forgiven?” Sevika grumbled.

“Of course,” you hugged her which she gladly returned.

[javierduffy]

different.

[logaenhowlett]

hi arya :3

any thoughts on cowboy!logan?

plenty. i’ve got plenty of thoughts. you’re gonna have to restrain me from this motherfucker. 18+ only.

— COWBOY!LOGAN HCs

Cowboy!Logan reigns terror over your heart.

The first time he saunters into the saloon you work at, he fixes you with those piercing eyes and purrs, "Now, darlin', what's a pretty thing like you doin' behind this bar? Should be dancin' with me, makin' all the other fellas jealous."

Whiskey? He never orders it. Every time, it falls from his lips as a suggestion, like it's a shared indulgence between the two of you. "A lil' somethin' to take the edge off a long day, wouldn't you say, sweetheart?"

Soon enough, you realise that he could charm the spurs off a rattlesnake if he so desires.

As he becomes a regular, all the glassware behind the counters starts looking a little too shiny since you're polishing them with the furious energy of a woman trying to ignore a wildfire—as if you could erase the memory of his last wink with enough elbow grease.

Ridiculous.

And he's got this lazy drawl, as though time spins between his fingers, where every word is a carefully placed lasso meant to reel you in.

Despite your better judgment, you find yourself anticipating Logan's arrival after each sunset. A fact you'd rather swallow a cactus than ever admit.

Devilishly clever, that man. Taken to accidentally dropping poker chips near your feet, just to watch you bend down and retrieve them. Leaving little sketches on napkins, rough caricatures of other patrons. Or sometimes, a remarkably detailed portrait of you minding your business.

Those stay tucked in your pockets for a while until your bedside drawer becomes their new home.

One night, he teaches you how to spin a coin on your knuckles, the brim of his worn Stetson tilted low, making you wonder if the slight pressure of his thigh against yours is part of the lesson or a happy accident. "Now, imagine that was a ring... wearin' it on the wrong hand, of course, but I reckon I could fix that."

And somehow, even though you could practically hear the ghostly whispers of every woman he's ever charmed, foolishly, your heart still does a little two-step.

As thunder rolls, so does the poetry from his lips. A small leather-bound volume from which he recites verses of silken touches and midnight trysts.

Whe he finishes, calloused fingers lift your chin slightly. "They say that thunder's the sound of the sky fallin' in love. And look at that... it's fallin' for you tonight, just like I am."

A kiss, not rushed, but a slow burn. Vaguely stirs memories of bourbon sipped by a campfire. Smokey, yet mischievously sweet, his lips part yours with a gentle demand. "Tell me somethin', sweet girl," he murmurs. "You ever ride a cowboy? 'Cause I'm thinkin' we find ourselves a quiet corner, and I'll show you a thing or two 'bout holdin' on real tight."

And in two shakes of a lamb's tail, Logan carries you to the backroom, away from all the raucous and the ruffians. He slides the bolt home, the click deafening in the suddenly small space. Only a single lantern to witness your sins, a rough wooden table your makeshift altar.

A lasso, strong and supple, twists around his palm. "Reckon you got a taste for the finer things. Right, darlin'?" He ties the knot, drawing your wrists closer, snug against your rear. Not in a harsh bind, but a tender restraint. "Just enough... to keep you entertained."

Loosened buttons and hiked-up skirts aside, his hand snakes between your legs, grazing your clit as he stretches you six ways to Sunday.

"Fallin' apart so soon, sugar?" Logan clicks his tongue thrice, and your hips instinctively buck. "Well, ain't that somethin'?" Eyes wide from genuine surprise. A whistle, cocky and clear, hits your cheek. "You're takin' to this faster than my prize-winnin' mare, and she's been broke in proper. Guess you're a natural, darlin'. Or maybe," he whispers, hot against your ear, "you just know how to please your cowboy."

A loaded six-shooter springs up as his jeans fall open, teasing your cunt with his slick, glistening head. No more can his patience bear the force of his desire.

Thrust after thrust, you wither from the glorious onslaught. There's a wild need to touch him, toss the hat and tangle your fingers in his hair, feel the rippling muscles he'd so gracefully shown glimpses of. Only the rope makes it agonisingly impossible.

Soft whines—which he takes the utmost pride in provoking—turn into ragged gasps. As your cunt clenches around him, milking him dry, Logan spills inside you with shallow grunts. "Sweet mercy," he chuckles, kissing you something stupid. "Now, just what am I gonna do with you, doll? Makin' a fella like me consider settlin' down."

Dramatic, in the way he sighs, Logan curls his arms around you. "Or, we could just elope. Less fuss that way."

Gently, he unties the lasso, soothing the faint red marks along your wrists. "Sleep tight, gorgeous. And dream of me."

Yet, he's the reason you have trouble sleeping at all.

so, i got majorly carried away with cowboy!logan. very tempted to turn this into a proper fic.

[pomegranatelifethis]

Maternal Instinct

1. Costume Inspection

Reader examines the kids' (and Bruce's) superhero costumes with a mom's keen eye.

Mom!Reader: "Dick, is the zipper on this suit sturdy? Tim, isn't your cape too long? Look, you're going to trip over it! Damian, carry that katana properly—last time, you nearly sliced the table in half!"

Jason: "Why aren’t you saying anything to me?"

Mom!Reader: "Because you’re already the biggest troublemaker, Jason. I can’t even make eye contact with you."

---

2. Post-Mission First Aid Stress

After a mission, Reader checks everyone for injuries.

Mom!Reader: "Alright, everyone line up! I need to check these wounds before anyone bleeds out."

Tim: "I'm fine, it's just a small scratch—"

Mom!Reader: "Don’t tell me you're fine, Drake! I’m counting your pulse to make sure you don’t pass out on me!"

---

3. Argument with Bruce

Reader has a serious talk with Bruce when she thinks he’s putting the kids in too much danger.

Mom!Reader: "Bruce, if you drag the kids into another reckless situation, I swear I will turn the Batcave into a playroom. I respect you as Batman, but these kids are mine too!"

Bruce: (sighs) "I'm trying to protect them."

Mom!Reader: "And so am I! Which means sometimes, I have to tell you when you're going too far."

---

4. Night Patrol Permission

Damian has to ask for permission to go on a night patrol.

Damian: "Mother, I am an assassin! A night patrol is child's play for me!"

Mom!Reader: "What time will you be back?"

Damian: "That depends on the mission."

Mom!Reader: "Then you’re not going. Things in Gotham get uglier after 3 AM."

Damian: (grumbles) "Father lets me go!"

Mom!Reader: "Your father has lost all sense of time because he never sleeps."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I've Got You Under My Skin 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Summary: your husband is a very demanding man.

Note: I can't help myself with the super soldiers.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The doorbell rings and you flinch. You pop your head up as Steve keeps his heavy arm across you. You wriggle and check the time on the small clock on his side of the bed. 

"Shoot!" You struggle to break free of him. "I forgot!"

"Forgot," he turns onto his side, keeping his hand on your hip. "What's going on?"

"I invited the girls over for movie night!"

"Movie night?" He echoes.

"Yes," you move his hand off of you, your chest bouncing as you hop out of bed. "We rented Nosferatu! I'm too afraid to watch it alone so..."

"You coulda waited for me," he sits up and shakes out his matted hair.

"I know but... oh, Bucky's wife can't make it. She's working on her comic," you explain as you search for your bra. The doorbell goes again.

"You didn't tell me you were having them over."

"I forgot."

"But you planned it... you could've said something when I called the other day." He scolds.

You know how he is about the house. He's so overly cautious, he would've seen them on the security app anyhow. Plus, they're his friends as much as yours.

"It's just Wanda and Nat," you say. He stares at you unflinching. "I'm sorry, Stevie--"

"Don't Stevie me with those kitten eyes," he warns as he sits up and wags his finger. "I just... like to know."

"I know," you look at your toes. "I won't do it again."

"Mm," he hums, obviously not happy. You hurry to pull on a fresh dress, not creased or stained by his suddenness. You pull you a pair of panties and he sighs, "really?"

"Steve, the girls are here."

"So what?" He tilts his head and smirks, "kinda hot thinking of you hanging out with nothing underneath. Just waiting til they're gone so you can get back on me."

You give a bashful smile, "Stevie."

The doorbell rings several times in quick succession.

"Hurry up," he rolls his eyes. "Nat can never..."

He trails off and you hurry out, trying desperately to tame your mussed appearance. You flit down the stairs, your skirt letting the air flow over your pelvis. You shiver and hurry to the door, opening it up with a smile.

"There you are. We brought wine and you leave us out in the cold," Natasha snips and shoves the bottle at you.

"Sorry, Steve got back early."

"Ew, please, we don't need details," she snickers.

"Vis got back too," Wanda says. "But Tony kept him late. I swear sometimes I think I'm the other woman."

You shake your head and accept the wine.

"As usual, Bucky's not here and ruining it all," Nat sneers. "She'd come if he wasn't such a hard ass."

"I thought she was working," you frown.

"Oh, sweet child," she purrs. "Sometimes I think that's why he chose you, you are too trusting."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Wanda pinches your chin. "You're just precious."

You back up to let them in. You don't argue. You don't like conflict. Not at all. You don't know how Steve does it.

Yet, you're irked. Everyone treats you like a child. You know you're a bit younger than all of them, a bit less experienced, but you're not stupid.

"So, pizza?" Nat asks.

Usually, you'd say no. The grease makes your chest burn and Steve doesn't like all that processed cheese. Unfortunately you didn't have enough time to make the food you were planning on.

"You two go ahead and order. I'll get some snacks ready," you wave them into the living room.

Before Steve got back, you had a plan. You were supposed to add some ambiance; dark scarfs over the lamps, pillows on the floor.... Oh, but you did do one thing.

You take out the medieval looking goblets filled with goodies; black nail polish, edible vampire teeth, red gummies of every flavour. You set them aside and start on the snacks.

Hummus and spinach dip, whole wheat crackers, veggies, and some fruits. You bring it out as Nat and Wanda set up a nest on the floor. Natasha grimaces at the tray.

"Really?"

"Well, you know..."

"We know. Mighty Captain America doesn't allow real American food in his house." Natasha sniffs.

"I got a surprise, wait," you put it down and wave off her chagrin. "One sec."

You go back out to the kitchen and grab the goblets. You bring them out with a proud smile. Wanda oohs and ahs as she nears.

"Adorable," she praises. "Oh, Natty, there's candy."

"Is it vegan? Sugar-free? All organic?"

"It's real," you assure her. "Just for tonight."

"For tonight or just for us?"

"Well, they're... presents."

"Hmm," Nat plucks out a gummy. "You should join in on the fun."

"It's okay, really. I'm not very hungry right now."

"It's one candy," she nears and holds it between her talon-like nails.

"You girls and your vampires," Steve startles you as he appears in the archway. You glance over. 

"Whatever, scaredy pants," Nat shoves the candy towards you. "It's girls' night and you're jealous."

"You're stealing my wife. Damn right I'm jealous." He scoffs.

"Mhmm," Nat hums and pushes the candy through your lips. You widen your eyes as she pulls her thumb free. You bite into it and look at Steve. He doesn't look impressed.

"Just try not to get her in any trouble," he says.

"In your living room?" Wanda giggles.

"You two have a way," Steve chides.

"Says Steve Rogers," Nat shakes her head.

"Says her husband," he tisks.

"Fucking Christ," Nat mutters. "Think a vampire would be a better husband."

"I can hear you," he retorts. "Language."

He marches off and you give a guilty look as you chew. You wish they didn't argue so much. You just want to have a nice movie night.

[bookshelf-dust]

someone worth leaving home for

eddie munson x fem!reader

gif by @cowboylikemunson

word count: 2,695

warnings: some alcohol use, swearing, a little suggestiveness? otherwise pure fluff

synopsis: you’re not really one to go out on the town much. being at home is just…better. but maybe there are some people worth getting out of your pjs for.

a/n: the amount of time this has been sitting, left to collect dust because i just couldn’t get a good footing on it or decide what direction to go in is vile. but i finally did it!! and i think it turned out pretty cutesy. if you’ve been in the market for something fluffy to get through the horrors life brings you, i hope this’ll help. love you!! <33

————

“Will you quit dragging your feet, already? For one, you’re gonna scuff your new boots, which I paid good money for, and for another, we’re never gonna get close enough to the stage if you don’t pick up the pace.” 

Tatum skips ahead of you, her skirt flouncing behind her. You scoff, shoving your beat-up compact back into your purse, along with the wine colored lipstick you’d been applying. “I just don’t understand your obsession with bars. I much prefer drinking at home. In my pajamas.”

“It’s not gonna kill you to come out with me for one night.” Tatum says your name. “Besides, I already told you the lead singer is kind of your type…” The last word leaves her mouth with a sing-songy lilt to it. She pulls open the door to The Hideout for you. “God knows you need some physical affection,” she mumbles. 

“What was that?” you laugh, cupping your ear with your hand. “You wouldn’t happen to be shit-talking your best friend, now would you?”

Tatum flips her hair over her shoulder. “Sometimes shit-talking is the best form of motivation.” 

It’s not exactly light outside, what with the time change and it getting dark so early, but somehow it’s darker inside the bar. There are a few neon signs hung up on the wall, large beer company logos staring you down. Your boots immediately stick to the floor beneath you; peanut shells crunch under your heels. 

It’s the kind of disgusting that holds nothing but nostalgia and a strange sense of comfort. You go to take a seat at the bar, but Tatum is quick to grab your hand, pulling you across the oblong room and in front of a small-ish stage. Your brows knit together. 

“What do you want to drink? I’ll get it. These are the best seats in the house, and I damn sure am not about to let anyone take them.”

You spout off the first thing that comes to mind, hoping it’s even something this place will have. You bring your purse into your lap. “Best seats my ass.”

Tatum slams a glass down on the table in front of you. Your heart smacks against your ribcage. “Jesus fuck!” She laughs when you clutch your collarbones, eyeing the pinkish liquid in your cup.

“These might be the grossest seats in the house, but they sure are good for checking out the band.”

How she even heard your snide comment from the bar, you’ll never know. Tatum takes a swig from her beer, waiting for your eyes to widen. You decide not to give in to temptation. 

“You brought me here so you could ogle the singer in a shitty band in an even shittier venue?”

“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers.”

Your eyes roll back into your head and you take a long sip from the plastic straw in front of you. “And no,” Tatum continues, “you pessimistic little shit. I have eyes on the drummer—hello. Do you even know me? The front-running guy is much more your type. And he plays like, an electric guitar or something. You know what they say about guitarists…”

“Okay, stop. You sound so sure that you know exactly what my type is, and I just don’t think that’s fair, I mean, I don’t do that to you—holy shit…”

Tatum leans back in her chair, the front legs lifting ever so slightly. She claps her hands and giggles. “Ha! Told you so!”

The back of your hand makes contact with her clammy bicep. She takes it in stride. 

The band, a group of four, has appeared on stage, skin glimmering in what can only be described as a ghostly manner due to the cheap lighting. There’s a guy taking a seat at the drum set with floppy brown hair, an earring, and a ratty gray sweater on. “Does he have big sad eyes?” you ask Tatum, raising an eyebrow. 

She might as well have squealed. “You bet your ass he does!” 

You look at your best friend as the group begins to play a cover of something that sounds vaguely familiar—maybe you’ve heard it on the radio before—but that you can’t place. You won’t tell her, but you’re glad she dragged you here tonight. The love-dazed trance she’s in makes it worthwhile. You’re not gonna let her leave without getting that guy's number.

A quick glance around the place shows you that only a few other people are paying attention: the lone bartender, an older group of men, some possible teens in one of the corners sharing a pack of cigarettes. You swing your head back in the direction of the small stage, shocked to find the lead singer giving you a once-over. 

You can’t decide if you’re intimidated or intrigued. His mouth is just barely pressed against the microphone, his lips twitching into a smirk as you maintain eye contact with him. 

This man doesn’t look like anyone else you know. Sure, he’s got a similar style cut to his hair, the same dark jeans plenty of people wear in such a small town. But he’s the kind of person you can look at and just know that they’re trying to do bigger things. Reach for things bigger than themselves and the lives they grew up having. 

He seems to be wearing a couple different necklaces, a messy stack of brackets on his left wrist, an Iron Maiden shirt that’s been torn more likely from wear than in the depths of a factory. He’s the kind of gorgeous people write poems about. Hell, the kind of gorgeous people paint because they have to document it. Something about his bone structure, his lithe movements, the curve of his throat.

You find yourself unable to look away from him even as you sip your too-sweet cocktail. Your elbow nudges Tatum’s. You’re hoping that by leaning into her budding crush, yours will go unnoticed. Hopefully she’s forgotten about it since you haven’t said anything since he walked out. “You planning on asking for the drummer’s number before we leave tonight?” you ask, smiling when her cheeks flush. 

“I really want to. And they always seem to stick around after they play, to buy a beer or smoke in the alley out back. I mean, I did put on a push-up bra.”

Your shoulders shake with laughter. By the time their set is over, you’re pretty sure you only really knew one song they played—and that was only because your dad likes it. 

————

Tatum glances over her shoulder. You give her a lookin, raising your eyebrows and hands in tandem. She cringes, though it looks more like a victorious smile. She gestures at you with her index finger. Almost done. 

She’s been talking to the drummer—Gareth, you’ve now learned—for twenty minutes. You wish they’d just exchange numbers and head off in their separate directions already. The balls of your feet are starting to ache in your boots. 

You let your eyes flutter shut for just a moment as you relax into the brick wall behind you. God, you feel old. You’re ready for bed. 

There’s a shuffling sound off to your left, the slam of a door. “Shit, Gare, you got a light? Mines out.”

You look up, looking for a face to match with the voice you’ve just heard. It’s the guy from before, one of the others from the band. 

“Yeah, man, here.” Gareth fishes a silver lighter out of his pocket and passes it over. Tatum glances at you, jerking her thumb back in the guys direction. Well, he’s gorgeous, she mouths. You roll your eyes. 

Once he’s lit his cigarette, the still unknown man looks at Gareth and asks, “You about ready to head out?”

You grin to yourself, tuning out the rest of their conversation, their exchange of introductions with Tatum. You’re looking down at a particularly round rock when another pair of boots appear in your line of vision. Your head shoots up.

“Hey,” he grins, “Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Eddie. Tatum said you’re with her?”

You let out a short, little puff of air laugh. “I am. My best friend since the seventh grade and the only reason I’m not in my pajamas by now.”

If possible, he’s even prettier up close. There’s a smattering of freckles across his nose and under his eyes. The sly line of a dimple drawing up next to his mouth. The first thought you have about him at this moment is how much you like his hair. 

Eddie chuckles, blowing the smoke from his cigarette away from you. “Ooh, are they good pajamas?” The playfulness in his question catches you a little off guard. 

“They are,” you start. “They’ve got Garfield on them.”

He smiles at you. “Cute. Poor Odie though, right? When’s he get to be on a pair of pajamas?” 

“Oh, don’t worry. I have a t-shirt with them both, so he’s not totally left out.”

Eddie stuffs a hand into his back pocket. “Good. I was worried. What’s your name, gorgeous? You know, so I can look you up in the book if I find some Odie pjs.”

Normally you’d be embarrassed by how quickly you’re being charmed by this man, but he’s so damn cute that you don’t care. You tell him your name. He smiles again, slower this time, and tells you how pretty it is. 

“I’ve never seen you here before tonight,” Eddie says. 

“It’s my first time. Tatum begged me to come out with her, but I know it was really just because she wanted your drummer’s number. Usually I’m happy to drink at home.”

Eddie looks over at your friend standing with his. Gareth is writing something on a gum wrapper. 

“Well I’m certainly glad I got to meet you. You looked very pretty out there. Hope we didn’t disappoint though?”

You wave your hands. “Oh, not at all! I enjoyed it. I liked the mix of covers and originals. You’re very good. You have a…strong stage presence. Very assertive.”

He drops his cigarette, snuffing it out with the heel of his boot. “Yeah?” There’s a sick little smirk on his face when he glances back up at you. 

You hum. “You’ve got that whole…rockstar look about you, y’know?”

“So…is all that stage presence enough for you to come back next week? You’ll only have to be out late one night. If you make it, I’ll buy you a drink. We can keep talking about how pretty you are and how you feel about my assertiveness.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Trying!”

The both of you burst out into giggles, enough so that Tatum and Gareth look over to see what’s wrong. 

A yawn from you interrupts the gleefulness. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, smiling at you. His eyes take on a pretty sheen. “I’ll let you go, alright? Before you pass out on the sidewalk.”

You stick your hand in your purse and rummage for a pen. “You have anything for me to write on? You know, so we could talk a little more and I can answer your question.”

Eddie never has shit on him. Suddenly he pulls out his pack of cigarettes, flipping it over and handing it to you. You snort down at the little box, but scribble your number in the white space anyhow. “I can also apologize for my shitty flirting,” you tell him.

“Practice makes perfect,” Eddie says. 

Tatum skips over, grabbing your hand and blowing a dramatic kiss at the two men behind you as she drags you away. “Goodnight, boys!”

————

“What the actual fuck are you doing?”

Eddie appears in the living room, a pair of ratty and worn pajama pants sitting on his hips, a hand in his tangled hair. 

“What’s it look like?” 

He tilts his head in order to make eye contact with you. “Some weird Exorcist shit.”

What he’s referring to is your downward dog pose. You took up yoga a little while back, not only because it gave you something new to do, but it also helps keep you grounded. This is not to say you’re perfect at it, but it’s fun. 

It’s been just over two months since you met Eddie. He’s always felt like he’s gotta do a hundred things at once, like he’s constantly on the go—being pulled in all these different directions. Wayne used to tell him that if he didn’t learn to relax, one day his head was gonna fly off and his body would just keep on running. 

Somehow being with you, being with a total homebody, has mellowed him out. He can’t quite explain it. Maybe the chemicals in him finally evened out (he thought that was part of puberty or something). Really it’s because he’s never really understood being grounded—not until you. 

“You can join me,” you tell him, lowering yourself to sit on your haunches. “If you want. It’s just some stretching.”

He settles onto your carpeted floors, pressing a warm kiss to the center of your forehead, his hand cupping the back of your neck, thumb caressing your hairline. 

“You gonna drag me to the hospital when I throw out my back?”

“Of course.” He watches, enamored, as you shift your position. “Here, I’ll show you my favorite one. It feels really good for your hips.”

You get into a child’s pose, letting your knees fall wide so that your hips open up and relief runs up your spine. The effects of sleeping in the fetal position—an Eddie glued to your side no matter how much you move. 

You look over at him and blink. Hesitantly, Eddie attempts to copy the way you’ve folded your body. His knees just won’t do whatever it is yours are doing. They’re not very spread and his back is a little too hunched.

“Shit,” he fusses. “This shit hurts! Must be some feminine magic or something. How are you not in pain right now?”

“Here, try this one instead.” Eddie gets into a cobra pose much easier. His back cracks and he groans.

“Baby, honey, sweet fucking woman of mine—I genuinely don’t think my spine was made for this.” He sits back down, mesmerized when you do a pigeon pose, saying how good it feels and how your mind quiets for a few minutes. 

Eddie chuckles to himself. Your head pops up. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing…I was just thinking that I also know of a few ways your mind could get real quiet.”

“Eddie!” you shriek, reaching out to smack his arm. “Be serious.”

“I am—”

“Come on, just do this one with me, okay? If you throw your back out I’ll give you a massage or something. Besides, relationships are about compromise! Think about how many pairs of my shoes are all sticky because I like you so much that I get dolled up and follow you to a hundred different bars to hear you sing.”

“A hundred is a bit of a stretch. But, I digress. I will try this with you, m’lady.”

Your body makes a triangle as you return to downward dog, coaxing Eddie with you. His hair falls away from his eyes and your gaze travels to the soft skin of his tummy, the sparse hair below his belly button. It’s at that moment that you realize Eddie is also eyeing you. His eyes are glued, very obviously, to your ass. 

“Eddie, this is supposed to be relaxing, stop ogling me!”

“I saw you over there. You were being a perv with those eyes, babe. Don’t act like I'm the only guilty party.”

“You first! You always start staring first.” 

“You’re right. And if I didn’t have a staring problem, you wouldn’t be doing this with me right now.”

“Technically, I made the first move.”

“You absolutely did not.”

“Yes, I did!”

“No, you really didn’t.”

You swipe at Eddie’s ankle, knocking him off balance. You shuffle quickly across the carpet, burning your knees but not caring. 

“Just shut up and kiss me already, Munson.”

Eddie just about tackles you, cupping your face and bringing you flush to his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[image-id-amateur]

[image 1-6 IDs]

Screenshots of a Reddit post from r/TrueOffMyChest by u/Empty-Ad-2301

First post reads: "I miss my husband so goddamn much. UPDATE I (35M) divorced my husband (36M) three years ago. And God, I miss him. I asked for a divorce for a few reasons, most of which being that his depression got exponentially worse day after day and he refused to seek treatment. Sometimes he wouldn't even go into work and ended up getting fired from his job. I stayed with him for so fucking long, praying that one day he would start trying to get better. It was all I ever wanted, but that day didn't come. I sobbed the entire time signing those papers, and when I handed them to him and asked for a divorce, he just gave me the emptiest, deadest look and signed them without a word. My heart felt like it had been shattered with a hammer, anger and sadness and fear tied together in the world's tightest, ugliest knot and inset deep into my chest. I put on a brave face for my friends, tried to frame it as shackles coming off and a new beginning, but it was a lie. It just hurt, and it keeps hurting, and it will never stop hurting. He was my soulmate. I'll never love anyone like I loved him. He used to be so sweet and loving, so passionate and happy and every other wonderful thing a man could want from another. They say each day gets easier, but it isn't for me. It's been three years and I'm still reaching over to the other side of the bed in the morning to pull him close, and it always stings when my hands touch fabric and not his skin. It's been three years and I'm still expecting to see his car in the driveway when I get home from work. It's been three years and my heart isn't any less broken than the day he left. I've been stalking his socials, I'll admit. He's been getting back to the gym, started meds, and I see him smiling so genuinely in these photos. He looks so incredible. Maybe if I had just waited, he would have changed his mind and went to a doctor like he is now? Or was it me that held him down? Was I making it worse?"

Next image continues post:

"hope not. I wanna go over to his place and just fall into his arms and beg him to take me back. Maybe he's wishing the same thing about me. If there's even a chance I could have my boy back I feel like I should try. I'll never know otherwise. EDIT: One: I am a homosexual man. My husband is a homosexual man. I am not a woman. Yes, I know I'm effeminate and kind of emotional. Get creative. Two: my husband was a binge drinker. He refused treatment no matter how much I begged. We got antidepressants but he wouldn't take them. I know he's started meds now because he's posted about them and his 2 yrs sober chip that he got last month. Three: I never stopped loving him. I never loved him any less. Near the end of our marriage, I started drinking to cope. The second I realized I was, I realized he was dragging me down with him, and I couldn't help him anymore. I didn't dip the second it got hard. Many of you are being kind of rude. I'll accept that I wasn't the perfect husband, nobody is. But claims that I never loved him are just wrong and make me feel sick to my stomach. EDIT 2: No, I am not the catalyst for this. His depression started when his young brother died terribly and unexpectedly. It's not because he just hated me so much. We were childhood sweethearts and had been together for years when this happened"

An update 3 days later reads

:UPDATE] I met my husband that I divorced 3 years ago. Update from this post. EDIT 3: Got approved! Here's the FINAL UPDATE. Well, with Reddit's advice, I did it. A few days ago, I called my (35M) ex-husband (36M) whom I divorced after 6 years when he refused to seek treatment for his depression. I called him later in the evening. It was the first time we'd spoken since a bit of trouble he'd had while he was still drinking 2 1/2 years ago. He picked up on the second ring. Our conversation was a little stilted at first, as to be expected, but he said he was really glad to hear from me. We ended up meeting up for coffee yesterday as so many of you suggested. I'll admit: it was kind of hard to see him, but in a good way? He looked so much better than the last time I had seen him, but he looked exactly like the man I married. He had put off a ton of weight (he gained like 75ish pounds during his struggle with depression, and before some dick says so, I didn't leave him because of his weight gain), he looked way healthier and very put together. I'll just say it: he looked incredibly hot. What made it hard was that I couldn't kiss him hello like I used to. But God, the way his eyes lit up when he saw me, I barely needed to. We got our coffee and sat, and he updated me a little on his life in the last 3 years. What really turned his life around was in part the divorce but moreso a DUI (nobody was hurt, he was caught a few blocks from his apartment). He's since gone to rehab and AA, gotten his license back, and had to use a breathalyzer whenever he started his car for a while. He hasn't had a drop of alcohol since and I told him I was so fucking proud of him. He's also started antidepressants, and made a point of telling me that they're not SSRIs, but when I asked what that meant he got embarrassed and told me nevermind (???). Bottom line is that they've been helping him, he's back to being a gym rat, and he's almost completely turned his life around. This was around the point I started tearing up. It just felt so good knowing he was okay. Better than okay, he was *good*. I also apologized to him for not sticking by him. He cut me off and said I had nothing to apologize for. He was a wreck, and I was being dragged down with him. That also felt good to hear. I apologized for not contacting him much during the last 3 years. That apology, he accepted"

The update continues:

"someone for a few months, too. He broke up with him once he tried to get him to drink on New Year's. He seemed dismissive of the guy. Guess it wasn't too serious. We got up and went on a walk after a few hours, and I think we both realized it felt like a first date. I had to stop myself from trying to hold his hand at a few points, I'll admit. We ended up sitting on a bench in a nearby park, and I confessed. I told him I missed him more than anything, how I never stopped loving him, and how if he wanted to, I'd love to try again from the beginning this time. We'd go to couples' therapy, keep our heads above the water, and take it slow. He was quiet for a minute before he told me something. He said he was doing better now, but there may be a time where he sunk low again. Depression isn't easily cured, and he was far from cured. He still had bad days, but he said there would be one difference: he promised he would never stop trying to improve. He was never going to give up like he did before, and refused to neglect me like he used to. If I was willing to accept that truth, he was willing to try again. I agreed, and he pulled me into an embrace and snuck a kiss to my temple. You know when it's the first warm day of spring after a cold, harsh winter, and the soft breeze and basking sun hit your skin at the same time? It felt something like that, to the 1000th degree. After a while he walked me back to my car and squeezed my hand goodbye, and the second I got inside I started sobbing like a baby. Happy tears, though. I'm currently sitting in bed, kicking my feet like a teenage girl, texting him back and forth to schedule an actual date. He said he'd plan everything, and try his best to make up for the birthdays and anniversaries he missed. He said it would "knock my socks off." What a dork. I love being in love. Not gonna lie, this is gonna be a bit hard to explain to my friends and family. Not looking forward to those conversations, but right now I don't care. My man loves me. Thank you to everyone who had kind words to say, and all the people that messaged me with sympathy and advice. I hope we all find happiness, and love if we want it. I never would have made the leap if y'all hadn't encouraged me. Best of luck to all of you, and sorry for the overly flowery language <3 EDIT: we've scheduled a date for tomorrow evening. I'll let people know how it went two days from now in my final (unless something big happens) update. EDIT 2: at his place presently. Shame me not."

The next image shows a final update three days later. It reads:

"FINAL UPDATE] I went on a date with my ex-husband last night. Update from this post. My (35M) ex-husband (36M) and I recently reconnected. I won't go over the details of why we split or our reconciliation since I'm sure the average redditor can click buttons and most likely read. He was the one taking me out, and promised that it would, in his words, "knock my socks off" to make up for his neglect of me. He sure as hell delivered. A little backstory, we've been together since we were 15 and 16 respectively, and have never moved out of our hometown. This year would have been our 20th anniversary (of getting together, not marriage). We were dating secretly for about five years before our parents caught us one day during summer break. The fallout from finding out their son was gay actually made his parents split. His dad wanted to send him away to conversion therapy. He's seen his father maybe once per year on average, and every time he's incredibly cold towards me. Would never refer to me as his son-in-law, only my husband's "pal." I wonder why. Anyway, not what you're here to read. I'll get on with the lore. He picked me up from the house and wouldn't tell me where we were going, but told me to dress warmly. He ended up taking me to the place where we met: a run down ice skating rink in our town. He used to do hockey, and I spent some time trying to learn figure skating until people started beating me up for it. Both sports would practice at the same time and I remember barely being able to keep my eyes off him. We went skating, I tried to pull off a few of the moves I remembered (he only had to catch me from falling on my ass once or twice, and I won't complain about an attractive man that I love hooking his arm around my waist), and we spent an hour or so there until our feet hurt. At one point I said that my face was getting cold, so he skated around in front of me and placed his gloved hands on my cheeks to warm me up. I just about burned a hole in the ice from how hard I was blushing, I swear to God"

The next image continues the post

"He wasn't done then. We left and went to dinner, specifically the restaurant where we had our first date. It's a cheap hole-in-the-wall place, seeing as we were poor teenagers when we first met. We chatted and ate food that probably took 5 years off our lives, he was an incorrigible flirt, and even held my hand underneath the table like he did all those years ago. I know I said I never stopped loving him, and I stand by that, but I think I somehow fell in love with him a thousand times over again during that meal. At the end of dinner, he asked if I had energy for one more simple thing, to which I agreed. He took me a while out of town to a dark sky zone park, specifically the one where he proposed to me ten years ago. He set out a blanket to sit on and another to cuddle under, and we went stargazing all bundled up together. You never know how much you miss the sound of someone's heartbeat until you haven't heard it for so long. We shared a bottle of sparkling grape juice in plastic champagne flutes and dumb, giggly kisses. It felt so similar yet so different. He told me in a moment of quiet that he loved me, and oh, God. It took everything I had not to cry. I barely hesitated before asking if he wanted to change venues. He seemed surprised, but eagerly accepted. I ended up at his place, as some of you may have seen from my edit on my second post yesterday. I wanted to take it slower than this, but it was so hard to. I was so starved of affection and hadn't been intimate with anyone for just about six years. I'm gonna keep what happened at his between us, but all I'll say is that his medication was no issue and all of you should be jealous. I woke up in his bed this morning, reached over for him, and pulled him close just like I used to do. I haven't been this happy in a long time. We had a sleepy discussion and decided to get back together, but we're not using the term boyfriends. It just feels weird after all this time. So he's my partner, or my lover. He's mine. Thank you, reddit. Wouldn't have done it without a little push from the internet. Let's see where all this goes."

[/End images 1-6]

[image 7 ID] an image of Kermit the frog laying on a bed spread, absolutely stricken and surrounded by hearts. [/End ID]

[nikethestatue]

I wrote an ask to you several weeks ago with some thoughts, as someone working in publishing with marketing/PR. I see Elriels are still being harassed for simply picking up what SJM/BB put down and it saddens me. Sometimes it feels like this fandom needs adult supervision. I'm in my mid-30s and never feel as old as whenever I venture into this fandom.

This might be really long but since you are one of the biggest Elriel accounts I hope it would be alright if I provide some very general knowledge about media-publisher relations that I think a lot of people would benefit from knowing. I am absolutely no ACOTAR insider. Everything I say, I only say as someone who has worked within publishing/PR for a long time (never with anything ACOTAR related!) and who has been following this upcoming release closely out of an interest in the publishing side of things.

In general, this is all you need to know:

What the publishers back = what reputable media outlets mention.

This is simply standard industry practice. It is no secret. Every single thing about a high profile book release is carefully coordinated between publishers and media outlets. It serves them both. Publishers manage expectations by shaping the narrative surrounding their releases, all to maximise sales and foster a positive reception of the release. Reputable media outlets maintain their credibility with readers and their relationships with publishers by not publishing random nonsense.

Fandoms often seem to lack self-awareness about their importance amd influence on publishing decisions. While publishers certainly keep an eye on fandom discussions, their primary focus is not on fandom-driven narratives (fanon) and preferences but on the massive casual readership, which drives the majority of book sales (and SJM is HUGE).

Fandoms are disproportionately populated by readers who were dissatisfied with canon, who seek alternate narrratives or ships. This is what makes fandom spaces so dynamic, but it doesn't reflect the general readership. Fandom is a tiny fraction of it. Publishers are very aware of this. So fandom theories and fanon ships will never be acknowledged by a publisher unless it serves a strategic purpose. Why? Bevause every PR and marketing decision is made to guide expectations in a way that maximizes book sales. Acknowledging fanon doesn’t serve that goal. It only risks confusing casual readers, weakening pre-orders, or generating negative buzz.

In fact, media-publisher relations can work to "combat" spiraling fandom narratives ahead of major releases by adjusting expectations rather than fueling speculation. This is, I think, why BB has never entertained the ship wars: because the only narrative they care about is the one in the books. They want the general readership to have appropriate expectations, not to confuse them.

So (and here is simply how I judge these events), why has an Az-Gwyn-Elain love triangle never been mentioned anywhere reputable, despite it dominating fandom discourse? Well, you guessed it. Because it doesn't exist to BB. It is a fandom creation. A gwynriel ship is simply not part of BB's narrative surrounding the upcoming release, as seen in the past year's media coverage. It's Elain and Azriel all the way. Even Lucien barely receives an honorary mention. We're talking the credible, reputable sources here (like TIME, E! News, etc). The only sensible conclusion is that BB wants the casual readership to focus on Elriel. Becasue, again, the last thing a publisher wants is confusion ahead of one of the biggest releases of the last decade.

To the Elriels that feel harassed and tired: You are not delusional. You’re picking up exactly what SJM and BB are putting down. Don’t let anyone bully you into thinking otherwise. When people call you insecure for being excited about Elriel's media attention, it is a deeply naive view. There’s no “winning” the ship wars because there was never a competition, at least not from the publisher’s perspective. There is one narrative, one endgame couple, and no other ship was ever a real contender. Fandom discourse may create the illusion of an open-ended outcome, but publishing doesn’t work that way. Writing is not the throw of a dice. Writing and producing a book of this scale is a years-long process involving immense financial investment and coordination betweem multiple large actors. The story’s direction is set long before fandom discourse begins, and no publisher would gamble that investment on shifting fandom opinions that reflect neither the general readership nor, and most importantly, the author's vision (which is what they have invested their money in).

Sorry for coming to you on anon to say all this. I just feel for Elriels and want them to know this. I'm sick of seeing them gaslit and ridiculed and questioning their own perception of reality. I'm not active in this fandom and don't really want its attention directed at me (I've seen too much over the years) so I prefer being anonymous.

I say this is standard industry practice but of course, always take what I or anyone else say with a grain of salt. Especially someone who anonymously claims to have credentials of some sort. None of this information about the industry should be difficult to confirm with a little bit of research (and please do look into this, double check what I've said, because the more you know about publishing, the less susceptible you will be to gaslighting!).

Thank you so much for this!

Everyone: PLEASE READ -- super interesting. But also kind of confirms what we've been saying all along. Nothing is accidental and of course everything in terms of publicity runs through BB and from them.

And you are so right about fandom usually being against canon and making up alternative options for their fave characters. I see it even with couples outside of Elriel/GA. Look at Nessian, and the stans who weren't happy with Cassian, and moved on to Eris (as if he is a better choice?! WTF). Same with Bryceriels, who weren't happy with Hunt, and now made up Azriel and Bryce connection. The anti Rhys campaign, and pro Tamlin one, because 'Tamlin is sad' and therefore Rhys is the devil. Many such examples.

This is really informative and I think would bring some calm to Elriels who've been hassled like hell in the past few weeks.

[specialgradefckr]

Satoru Gojo who thinks you're only with him for the money.

He's pretty insufferable, after all. And a shitty boyfriend to boot - always bailing on dates, showing up at weird times, telling you vague stories about his work that don't make sense.

Honestly he's surprised you've stuck around this long.

That you still read every message he spams you when he's bored and lonely fighting special grade curses.

(after all, he always has to go on those missions alone. there's no one who can go with him.)

You still text him back. Open the door to let him in. Smile when you see him, like it's the very first time and he can tell you're just so star-struck by his eyes as he tugs down his blindfold with a grin, "Do I look blind to you?" "Blindingly handsome!"

He'd laughed at that. You're shocked by his appearance, but you're earnest, and so obviously smitten, and he loves a woman with a little humor.

Satoru Gojo who didn't expect you to text him back after the first night, but you did.

cutie pie: omg, those look so good! what flavor? satoru: my favorite, the edamame and cream~ cutie pie: bring some for me next time you visit <3 i'll feed them to you ;)

On a lesser man, that might have sounded presumptuous. To Satoru, it's the perfect come-on. Casual, flirty, and easy to do - all the makings of a great hookup.

He hadn't expected to spend half the night on his knees like a dog, licking at your fingers. Watering over a thumb pressed down against his tongue while you drooled your mochi-sweet saliva straight into his open mouth.

Unexpected, but amazing! Satoru knew then that you were going to be a treat worth savoring.

It was just a shame that he could only enjoy you for one night.

Not even that much, really. He'd been called away in bed; one arm wrapped around your darling naked form, holding you pressed against him.

Left while you were asleep without a word. He'd texted you on the way, a blase little "sowwyyyyy smth came up! u were gr8 last night." and no real expectations of a return.

If you were (reasonably) upset with him, he'd block you - his one act of kindness to a woman he couldn't treat right.

Instead he gets "thanks! you weren't so bad yourself haha" and your enthusiasm is obviously a bit defused, but he can work with this.

He lays it out to you, next chance he gets. Tries to text you often enough to make sure you don't think he's ghosted you.

"I know this might sound like the kind of thing married men say," He says with a big, sardonic smile, "But I have a very demanding job. I don't have time for a relationship. And for personal reasons, I can't agree to be exclusive, either."

There's a look you give him that makes him wonder what exactly you think of his job. Satoru vaguely wonders if you think he's a sex worker.

He hopes you try to find him on porn websites later. Maybe he should film himself jerking off real quick sometime so you can watch it.

"That makes sense," Is what you say, instead of any of the ridiculous thinks he'd imagined.

You don't seem thrilled about it, but you don't look immeasurably disappointed, either. You're a smart girl. You'd probably already figured he couldn't commit.

"But!" He chirps, "I am very very interested in seeing you again. Multiple agains. And I'd like to come to an arrangement that makes that easier for you, since my schedule is so tight..."

For a moment, you stay quiet, and Satoru wonders if he should just offer you cash upfront. But you're receptive, and things go well.

Worryingly well, to be honest. What type of girl are you, exactly? Naughty thing. Get money from a lot of men, do you?

You laugh when he tries to bring it up in bed, "You're one to talk, Mr. can't-promise-exclusivity," you tease, running a hand through his hair while you smile at him.

He likes it when you do that. He likes a lot of things you do.

The real wonder is - although he is absolutely spectacular in bed of course - how much do you like it?

The whole relationship has to happen on his shitty, inconsistent schedule. He can't commit to a relationship or tell you about his job - you're better off that way. Even if you don't know.

Satoru Gojo who pretends to go on dates with other girls sometimes just so that no one watching him thinks he's serious about you. He can't have the Higher Ups thinking of you as a tool to use against him.

He can't even offer you exclusivity. Even if he wants to. Even if he struggles to get it up with those girls - his heart just isn't it in - when he's making sure everyone who's watching him knows you're just one of several people he's having sex with.

After all, the only thing that could be worse than people thinking you were the strongest sorcerer's weakness, was if they thought you might be pregnant with the strongest sorcerer's child.

But if he's fucking around, if he's the whore his so-called superiors make him out to be - then you're safe. Just another girl.

And god, does he take advantage of it.

Texting you late at night. Early in the morning. Times don't mean a lot to him these days.

The most sleep he ever gets is the rare night he spends with you, maybe once or twice a month, five hours in your arms before he pulls himself away and slinks out of bed while you're still asleep like a guilty dog.

He doesn't deserve your warmth or your bed. But he'll take it while you're offering. Eat it all up and beg shamelessly for seconds.

He makes up for it with money, or tries to. Leaves you treats and sweets and other gifts. Spam texts you and facetimes you constantly - when he can.

To be perfectly honest, he's kind of expecting to be dumped any day. He'll take whatever he can get.

If paying your rent or buying you a house makes you feel guilty enough to stay a few days longer with him, that's a good use of his money.

He arranges for you to receive an offer for a remote job, something flexible that will let you meet him whenever he comes calling.

His gifts get more lavish. He's always generous in bed, makes sure you have a good time.

He has a reputation to uphold, after all.

Sometimes he just stares at you when you're asleep. It feels like a waste to spend his precious few hours with you sleeping.

Look at you. All peaceful in his arms. Cuddling up to him.

He can admit, in the dead of night, with no witnesses but himself; the sight makes his heart tug.

If he could, he'd stay. Wake up next to you in the morning. Make breakfast, flirt, joke, maybe even take a little ~morning shower~ and have some fun in there.

It's so clear in his head. How you'd joke back. Smile and giggle and playfully bump against him. Give him a little kiss, a little hug before he leaves for work.

You would kiss his forehead when he got migraines. Hug him when he talks about his difficulties at work.

Your soft smile, your warm lips, your tight hug. It's all so vivid in his head. How you'd look in the morning light, staring at him while you think he's asleep.

Would you stare? What would show on your face, then?

He tries, very hard, not to imagine what your face must look like when you wake up alone every time you sleep with him.

What you think about when he's not there.

Do you wonder if he's with other women? Do you see his flirty texts - "sorry kitten daddy's gotta work late" "babygirl you're not my dad, he goes to bed at 9." - and wonder if he's said that to a hundred other girls?

Because he has. And that's what hurts, really. He could message a hundred girls and get a hundred vapid responses, all those notifications could build up in his phone and he wouldn't care.

But when it's you messaging him?

When you tell him about your day, or text him a picture, or pick up on the rare phone call he gets to make - Satoru's heart skips a beat.

What about you? He thinks about you checking your phone constantly to see anything from him, and it hurts.

You don't show any unhappiness about the arrangement. Every gift, every little arrangement or donation he makes, you accept it all with grace. Everything money can buy is yours, he makes that clear.

As long as you're with him, he'll spoil you rotten. And you were starstruck in the beginning, he could tell.

Expensive hotels, exclusive restaurants. First class flights everywhere, even a private jet if you want it. He brings you custom made jewelry worth more than people make in a year, pulls it out of his pocket and clasps it around your wrist like a passing trinket.

You get used to the constant spa days, the shopping trips. Ordering food for every meal. Living in a city center in a beautiful penthouse with brilliant fixtures. And you're happy like that. At least you look like you are.

But every time he sees you, you're with him. He can't tell if you miss him, if you're sad when he's not there.

He... he sort of doesn't want to know.

Satoru Gojo who loves you. And he hopes to god you don't love him back.

After all, if you did, then you'd want things from him he can't give. Shouldn't give.

But if all you love is his money? He's got tons of it. You can have as much as you want. He can make you happy. He can buy the love he can't afford to earn. He'll never run out of funds.

As long as it's only his money you love, he can have you forever.

[hrrtshape]

anywhere everywhere all at once.

it might as well be 3:42 am in new york, a wednesday, a slow september. in one version of my life, i am asleep. in another, i am wide awake, watching headlights stretch themselves thin against my ceiling. in another, i am stepping off a plane where the air smells different and the signs don’t make sense. in another, i am standing in a kitchen that isn't mine, listening to someone laugh in a language i don’t fully understand. elsewhere, in some other time zone, some other life, my presence is being requested, required, expected, wished for.

maybe some day people will ask me where i live like it’s a real question. like there’s an answer that could fit in a postcode or a utility bill. i live in the backseat of a car where the driver is telling me about the one that got away. i live in the fluorescent purgatory of airports where time is measured in last calls and final boards. i live in borrowed apartments where the sheets smell like someone else's perfume, in voicemail boxes i have forgotten the passwords to. i live in places i have never been but know by heart. anywhere. everywhere. all at once.

i like to think. think that someone in shanghai is wondering why i never called them back. someone in berlin is sitting across from an untouched glass of wine. someone in buenos aires is holding a postcard i don’t remember writing. i am a misdial, an almost, a ghost in the periphery of someone else's memory. i am not sentimental, but sometimes i think about all the places i might have have to stay five minutes longer.

what if i've read all the books, but only in transit? perhaps only in waiting rooms and boarding gates and places where i did not belong but was, momentarily, allowed to exist. i know how the story ends. but knowing has never stopped anything from happening.

so i keep moving. not because it’s profound, not because it’s poetic, but because the alternative is stopping, and i am not sure i would know how. somewhere, a plane is boarding. somewhere, a keycard is being handed to me with a nod. somewhere, the night is thinning, the city is slowing, and i am already elsewhere.

[flinnirthefruityfiend]

so this isn't really something that i would put on this blog, but since i do sometimes post about my neurodivergence i guess it's relevant kind of? yes it is 5 AM. yes i did get 4 hours of sleep

i agree with this commenter, specifically in relation to BPD and chronic unhappiness. i am perpetually sad to the point where i can almost never answer that i'm doing okay when someone asks me. this makes me feel bad as i don't wanna be negative or ""traumadump"" but the fact is that i literally cannot be myself without ""traumadumping."" this actually can lead to me oversharing negative parts of myself because i constantly feel like i have to bottle it up.

also, with BPD symptoms, i genuinely do start thinking people hate me if they don't constantly interact with me. and the fact that some non-BPD people encourage us to think this way is so disturbing to me... this makes so many of my fears so much worse and makes me all the more miserable. reality checking doesn't really work, but neither does encouraging BPD delusions.

.

image ID: if your friends are sad that they haven't seen you, you're emotionally manipulating them. if they don't constantly start conversations with you, they secretly hate you, and you should abandon them. how dare you put your emotions on them, how dare you expect them to lean on you. clearly, the solution here is to never allow your emotions to show to anyone, good or bad, and friends are simply someone you can discuss the weather with. (sarcasm)

I genuinely can't stand pop psychology I'm not an expert on this stuff but the damage it has done to the general public's understanding of mental health and psychology must be notable. People with low empathy are evil. NPD is The Abuser Disorder. here's how your partner is subconsciously manipulating you. OCD is when you like cleaning. If you ask him a question and he looks away for one second he's lying to you and abusing you. Follow for more dark psychology tips. Letting my intrusive thoughts win and dyeing my hair. I thought this guy was into me I'm so delulu. Anyone who comes to you with their problems is traumadumping and abusive. Anyone who gives you gifts is lovebombing and abusive. Being neurodivergent means Liking Things. Neurotypicals don't like things. They are empty shells without feelings. Neurodivergent means ADHD or ASD. What, BPD? Schizophrenia?? That's not very quirky or fun. And that's what neurodivergent means. That's just weird. Being mentally ill isn't an excuse to be weird. Only Evil People manipulate and abuse. There are certain people who Are Evil by nature (people with NPD) and they Will abuse you. Loving someone means it's impossible to abuse them only Evil People Who Hate You are abusive. Have I mentioned that people with NPD are evil. I really want to drive that home