#sorry for the shit quality I rushed it in the beginning and then I spiralled and spent too long on it

[sleepyskeleton-0]

(Sorry u couldn’t help it ;-; )

get ace attorney'd

Merry Almost-Christmas!

(I appreciate the ace attorney meme, sadly I’ve never played the game 😔)

[celestial-ringleader]

Dark Crisis: Young Justice Thoughts

Y’know what I’m not waiting until after work, I’m getting mad over DC:YJ and some fans online are also just making me annoyed so I’m gonna break down all my thoughts on the comic. This will probably get rant-y so if you dont like that feel free to ignore. Or don’t. I’m not your dad.

So to start off, I decided to look into what the writer’s other DC projects, how much experience she had in writing, and what she’s prominently known for. As of right now, her most prominent works have been DC:YJ, Tim Drake: Robin, and the DC Pride special for Tim. As far as I can tell, she hasn’t been writing for DC for a while, her earliest work being in 2021 with Batman: Urban Legends. But what she is most known for seems to be writing for Supernatural, the last three seasons specifically. Which all this combined is not promising. Megfitz hasn’t been doing DC comics for that long and from what I can tell based on the writing, most of her info comes from fanon interpretation or summaries about Young Justice. If there is evidence she read the comics for the sake of DC:YJ, feel free to add on.

Now that that’s out of the way, holy shit this comic was so painful to read. In the beginning I thought it had potential to be good, I assumed it was going to be some kind of story about the characters avoiding their grief and living in the past instead of thinking about the future, but the moment the third or so issue came out I knew that this just wasn’t gonna be that. And dear god did it spiral out of control. To make this easier, I’ll just break this down into chunks so I can organize my thoughts. (DISCLAIMER: I will not be going into the art style of the comic because to me that doesn’t say anything about the quality of writing, look at the current Nightwing run for example: it looks great but its writing is holy wattpad batman. I’ve also read a good chunk of comics YJ ‘98, a good amount of comics about Kon-El and Tim Drake from the 90s into the 2000s, so I like to think I know what I’m talking about. If anyone comes into my comments or inbox being nasty, I’m gonna ignore you. I don’t have time for that shit.)

The Plot

To say this plot was really convoluted and non-existent wouldn’t be enough to describe how messy it all felt. The plot was pretty alright in the first and second issue but it very quickly started to make less sense and the characters started acting very strange just to get the plot along. In fact, I’d say the plot was moving forward and the characters were dragged along for the ride rather than it being the characters moving the plot forward. This was a simple premise and it became needlessly complicated, shit would just happen, the characters would react, and then another thing would happen; rinse and repeat. It felt incredibly rushed overall, and I’m aware it was only six issues but I’ve read miniseries that have done more in six issues than what happened in DC:YJ. After I finished reading it, it just felt like nothing happened at all and that’s weak storytelling if it left no impact on the audience or just made the audience mad.

Like what was the rising action, the climax, the falling action? Why was it full of the characters meandering around and not having agency in their own story?? How can you have a story last for six issues and still leave barely a dent in the grand scheme of things?? As I read this, I kept wondering if this was an early draft that wasn’t edited with how much of a skeleton the plot was.

The Dialogue 

This won’t be a big segment, but the dialogue felt unnatural to read. At best it was clunky, at worst it was uncanny. I’m sorry but people don’t talk like robots or say quippy shit all the time. The scene I have in mind is the one where Tim is telling Kon about how he and Cassie were torn apart when they thought he was dead, but it was written in such a jarring way that it just felt like someone pressed a button on a piece of cardboard and it started talking. This emotional scene felt so lifeless and that monologue had no impact. At other times it felt like the characters weren’t actually saying these lines and were only speaking because that’s what the plot dictates.

This brings me to a sub-section; the drama. My god the drama was so ham-stringed and confusing. A lot of the drama presented was drama that had already been settled or was shit that straight up didn’t fucking happen. Kon was already aware of Tim and Cassie getting together after he died and he understood why they did, Kon already knew that Tim was in a rough state after he died so the ��reveal” left me thinking “...no fucking shit?? you guys had a whole heart to heart about this???”. The only explanation I have is that Megfitz couldn’t come up with anything new so instead fell back on old drama and hoped the fans would be like “haha I remember that!” but literally every YJ fan I’ve talked to just rolled their eyes. Congrats you remember basic shit, now can you prove you know how to write dialogue with their personalities still in tact. Jfc.

The Characters

GOD. GOD FUCKING. U G H H HH H HH H HH HH H 

This is the part where my theory that Megfitz did research through twitter a la Tom Taylor and this is also the part where I get angry because WHAT WAS THAT BULLSHIT CHARACTERIZATION I READ WITH MY OWN TWO EYES?? Not only did the characters feel lifeless, they also were just so so far from themselves that they felt like clones. Like I kid you not, I thought Cissie was a clone or an illusion early on and was very quickly disappointed when I realized that this was just shitty writing.

I went into this comic reading for Kon, from my pfp you can probably guess he’s one of my favorite comic characters period, and dear lord that writing for him was atrocious. Not only did you have him disregarding his friends, but there were a lot of instances where he brought up old drama (as I stated before) and was largely uncaring about how others felt. Which is so wrong on so many levels. Like how can he just yell at Bart and make him cry?? Kon-El?? Being a dick to his friends???? What the fuck was Megfitz even referencing for him?? Like yes he was a little shit of a teen and would make a habit of flirting with people, but at the end of the day he cared about his friends and never looked down on any of them. Especially Bart, Tim, and Cassie. He never saw Cassie as “small, meek, and helpless uwu” he was attracted to her almost instantly yes, but throughout YJ ‘98 and TT ‘03 it’s pretty obvious he respects her as a person and knows she’s strong and capable. In fact, it was Cassie who even broke off their relationship and he never held that against her and was happy to let their relationship go.

Which brings us to Cassie and Cissie....dear fucking god. For a comic that claims it’s speaking out against sexist writing from the 90s, the portrayals of their female characters sure felt really fucking sexist. Cassie only existed to have a very lazy “girl power” moment, Cissie was nothing more than a cardboard cut out who acted so OOC it took me out of the story, and literally no other afab YJ members were mentioned. Did Greta just stop existing in their minds? Anita became their friend, why was she listed under villains? The part that made my head turn the most with Cissie was when she claimed that she left bc she felt like it was all about “the boys” and was telling Cassie she should just stop looking for them essentially bc they were “holding her back” and I’m here thinking that Megfitz straight up didn’t read YJ if she forgot that Cissie leaving was because she wanted to live a normal life, not because of any resentment towards her friends. In fact she went and visited them frequently after leaving and every time they were all so happy to see her back. Ofc they wanted her back on the team, but they respected her decision and encouraged her to live the life she wants. To move on to Cassie, this portrayal made Geoff Johns’ writing for her seem amazing in comparison. She was the leader of YJ, she was respected by her friends, and they never left her out or made her a “third wheel” in their friendship. Yes, she wasn’t there from the get-go but once she, Cissie, and Greta were added it all became a mutual friendship between the six of them. Tim, Kon, and Bart didn’t look down on her just because she was a girl. That was how the fans treated her, which is the biggest reason why these characters are unrecognizable:

The fans are the ones who prioritized Tim and Kon and left out Bart and Cassie, not the comic. The fans are the ones who made Bart out to seem dumb, the fans are the ones who would make Cassie exist only as a love interest. These interpretations seeped into the comic and made it seem like it was this toxic friendship when it LITERALLY WASN’T. NONE OF THAT HAPPENED IN CANON. 

And this might be a hottake for some people, but I just don’t like how she’s writing Tim. Just looking at anything with him in it feels like it’s fanon Tim and not the same Tim who’s existed for well over thirty years. He just has no personality outside of “the smart Robin who is bi” which is basically how fandom sees him. And I’m a huge fan of Tim, he’s my favorite Robin out of all of them and I’ve been reading a bunch of comics with him and it’s just so annoying that people are just gonna assume DC:YJ Tim is all he is; bc in that case I don’t blame fans for thinking he’s boring after this. But that’s a whole other rant for a later date.

The Message

What even was it. Like literally what was the message or purpose behind this comic? Originally it seemed like the boys were avoiding their grief and then it became this whole thing about “ew 90s BAD and if you liked 90s comics you’re BAD” completely ignoring that a lot of iconic characters today were from the 90s. This felt like it was a slap in the face as someone who loves YJ ‘98 and all the characters, yes I know YJ was never perfect but I still overall loved it and I loved seeing them just being teenagers figuring out their place in the world. With any story, it needs to have a purpose and a message for the audience to take and think about; with this, I felt brain dead because of how plainly it was laid out for me. The audience couldn’t take anything else aside from the overwhelming message printed so plainly. Mickey was doing all of this because...he doesn’t like the current heroes and wants to see more of “his heroes”....way to jab at YJ fans who just want them to be back together dude. Way to make YJ fans seem irrational and hateful towards current heroes. This wasn’t a commentary on grief and filling the role of a predecessor who passed away, this was just telling people that 90s comics were bad and you shouldn’t have nostalgia or want to see more because then that means you hate the current characters. If this is a problem, then just WRITE THOSE STORIES. Don’t make some big meta commentary that spits in all our faces, just write these characters. 

Final Thoughts

This comic run was a mess. it had so much promise and potential to be good and it fell so fucking flat. I haven’t read a comic that disappointed me this much since Trial of Magneto, and for people who have followed me for a minute knows how I feel about that. Somehow DC:YJ makes Tom Taylor’s Nightwing run look eons better and that is saying A LOT. Overall this comic was a six issue waste of my time and I wish I did more with my money and my brain cells, but at the end of the day comics are just gonna be like that. Either they’re good or they’re a swing and a miss. Needless to say, this has turned me off from any further works Megfitz does and I will put YJ on the highest shelf until writers learn to actually write and understand these characters. After what happened with YJ 2019, I’m having less and less faith in that but idc.

Usually I don’t give number ratings for comics, but for this one I’m making an exception. I rate Dark Crisis: Young Justice a 3/10. Get better Megfitz.

[darlingpetao3]

Cursed (Ed Stevens x Reader)

Rating: G

Summary: Without being fully aware of it, you seek out Ed for comfort on an issue that had been eating away at you until you broke.

A/N: hey everyone. So, you all know that I like to write things that I think people would enjoy. But I also write things that I just need to write - sometimes just for me, to get out everything that’s in my head and feel a little better. I also write these stories so that I can come back to them and read them at a later date, again, to feel better. This one I’ve written here was something that I felt like I needed to write for me the other night. I don’t really know if anyone can relate to the issue in here (or even knows Ed Stevens very well - if you don’t, and would like to, start here), or if it’s any good, but I decided to post this in case it comforts someone else even a little too.

Warnings: Emotional Hurt/Comfort fic (with a sweet ending)

***

It’s dark out, but you’re unaware of the time. You open the door to the building, but you don’t register where you are. You don’t know anything right now. It’s dark, it’s late, and you have been walking around for God knows how long in this strange sense of limbo.

But if there’s one thing you do know, it’s that the overwhelming sense of sadness - loneliness - is inching up from your heart to your eyes where it will inevitably erupt in the form of wet, salty tears.

Scuffed, tiled floors?

Lemon Pledge?

Nacho cheese?

Did you hear your name just now?

“(Y/N)?”

There it is again.

You look up to find your good friend Ed standing in the doorway to his office. So you’re in Stuckey Bowl… You can’t even begin to wonder how you got all the way to this part of town on foot. Ed smiles at you at first, but when he takes a much better look at you, his expression turns to worry - dread, perhaps.

“Ed?” you ask, totally out of it still.

“Is everything-?”

He never gets to finish his sentence because the tears have already begun to fall, accompanied by a choked sob - the first of many. You feel like your legs are going to give out from under you, but Ed has rushed over the few steps to keep you steady in his arms. You hold on for dear life.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on?” he asks softly.

“I- It’s- Never- I-” Clearly you are incapable of forming a sentence.

“Come here,” he says, helping you into his office and whether it’s your friend’s kindness, his soothing voice, or just actually having someone there for you when you need it, it sends you into more vocal cries.

Ed is watching you so intently, attempting to get a better look at your face. Knowing him, he’s probably wishing to make everything you’re feeling disappear just by willing it away. Trying to be brave, you go to look him in the eye, but that just makes it worse. It seems far too much like pity, and you are already feeling too much of that for yourself.

He takes your hands in his and silently offers for you to sit down on his office’s sofa. A ball of tension forbids you from sitting back and relaxing, so instead you sit rigidly. You sniffle loudly, and Ed wordlessly hurries over to his desk to fetch a box of tissues for you.

“You probably know this already,” he starts slowly, “but you can tell me anything. And if you don’t want to talk, I’m still here for you anyway.” He places his hand on your arm. You nod, then inhale. Talking. Talking is good. You can get this out.

“You’re probably busy with a case if you’re here so late,” you say in an attempt to back out.

“Screw the case. You’re more important.”

“You’re not getting paid to watch me be a mess, though.”

“(Y/N).”

“Okay…”

In the most hoarse, wavering voice, you begin to tell of your inner sorrows.

“I am… Ed, I am so, so lonely. I know that sounds pathetic. Horribly pathetic and stupid, and I am ashamed, believe you me. And I realize that people are having real, actual problems that matter. But, you just have no idea as to the extent of this loneliness and sadness I’ve been feeling and how it’s been affecting me. Especially lately.”

“(Y/N)... you know you’re not alone,” Ed tries while he rubs circles on your back. “We’re all here for you, every day. Mike, Nancy, Molly, yours truly of course.”

“I know, I know. But that’s not what I mean, and I think you know that too.”

“You mean having someone? A significant other?” he clarifies. You nod, then look him dead on.

“Ed, have you ever seen me with anyone? Have you ever known me to have a boyfriend over the course of our friendship?”

“Well, yeah, I… hang on.” Ed stares off to the other side of the room.

“Coming up short, right?” you give a small wry laugh.

“But that can’t be right.” He’s frowning, he can’t believe it. “It can’t be.”

“Well, it is, believe it or not. Because I’m cursed. I have been cursed and no man - no decent man - has crossed my path, let alone attempted to cross my path. It’s like I have an invisible sign over my head saying STAY CLEAR OF THIS ONE. Or NOTHING SPECIAL, MOVE ALONG.”

“Stop it,” Ed orders you. His hands fall to your shoulders and he gets you to face him. “Don’t you ever say anything like that. You know that’s not true.”

You scoff.

“Except if you’ve lived this long, being lonely for this long, you start to actually believe it.” You think you’re about to start crying again, but Ed has you in a tight hold close to him. Your tears leak onto his T-shirt.

“You can’t give in to those thoughts, (Y/N).” His hand feels so nice on your back, and you almost think that maybe it’s rubbing every bad emotion and thought out of your body. “You just can’t. You are so worthy of love and it hurts me that you can’t see it. You are amazing and smart and funny and kind- I can keep this going all night. Just watch me!”

You chuckle the slightest bit.

“See? There you go. You have so many wonderful qualities that could take nights to rattle off and someone is going to see them all. ...You never know, someone already might have noticed.”

“Ed, this is Stuckeyville, are you kidding me? Do you not know all the men in this town? They are shit. You and Mike notwithstanding.” Ed opens his mouth to say something, but you accidentally interrupt. “Maybe I should just leave. I’ve lived here all my life, but what good has that done me? I mean, yes I have my job, and I love it. And generally life is alright, but what good is any of this without someone to spend your happiness with? Maybe they’re elsewhere. Because, you know, I don’t even know what that’s really like, Ed!” you cry. “What’s it like? What’s it like to have someone? What’s it like to be in love?”

Before he can answer, you dive in again for another hug, desperate to feel some more comfort from him.

“It’s… indescribable,” he says, words muffled in your hair. You don’t really have anything to say to that. That’s what everyone you’ve asked throughout your life has said. Indescribable. There are no words. Just once, you’d like to experience this mythical thing called love so that you can have no words to say about it too.

You give a little tired sigh, relieved even just the tiniest bit for at least having got those spiralling thoughts out. You just needed a sounding board. What on Earth would you do without Ed?

“Well, I’m sure I’ve bothered you enough already, so I should probably go home. And oh- I’m sorry, I totally ruined your shirt.”

“You have not bothered me in the slightest,” Ed assures you, “and I have plenty more of these shirts at home. Bought them in bulk. Not even remotely an issue.”

“Ha… okay, then.”

“Let me drive you home,” he offers.

Naturally, you let him because now it’s somehow the middle of the night, and neither one of you would feel comfortable with you wandering home on your own. When he reaches your place, Ed even walks you to your front door. Honestly, sometimes you wonder how this guy is single too.

“Thanks for the ride, Ed,” you say, “You really are the best. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“Let’s not think about that, but I’m glad that I was there to help you,” he says softly, pulling you in for a goodbye hug. “If you ever so much as feel even slightly upset again, I want you to call me. Find me. Track me down, I don’t care. I need to know you’re alright. Promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Thank you.”

You pull away from the hug, but before Ed lets you go, he says, “And (Y/N)?”

“Yeah?”

“About what you said earlier. Don’t leave Stuckyville. Just… just don’t. At least, not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t bear it if you did.”

“Oh. Well, then I won’t. At least, not yet.”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

“...Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Ed.”

***

In the morning when you go downstairs to fetch the paper, you are startled upon opening your front door.

“Jesus,” you say with almost no breath left. Ed sits mere feet away from you, slumped over in one of your porch’s chairs. He stirs awake at the sound of your voice.

“Ed, what are you doing here? Were you here all night? You’ll catch a cold!”

He rubs his eyes awake. “Ah, don’t worry about me. I have the good ol Stevens immune system.”

“But why are you here?”

He stands. “I was afraid you’d skip town first thing in the morning. I wanted to stop you in case you did.”

You laugh. “You should know me better by now. I’m all talk, with no follow-through.”

“Well, I’m glad in this instance.”

There’s something in his voice. It’s not just relief, but something else that you can’t put your finger on.

“Do you… want to come in? I can make you the most caffeinated coffee or tea ever. You couldn’t have slept a wink out there.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I’ll take you up on that.”

You open the door for him after grabbing the newspaper and soon getting started on the coffee. Once Ed finally has a piping hot cup in front of him, he takes a sip, then immediately puts it down.

“(Y/N)? This is terrible coffee. Simply atrocious.”

“Gee, thanks,” you laugh.

“Something has to be done about this. Would you like to get a cup of real coffee with me?”

“What? Now?”

“Yes, now. I’m pretty near falling asleep here. You may need to help me get to the cafe.”

“Okay, then…” you agree. But as you walk away, you stop and frown, and end up spinning around to face Ed.

“Ed. Did you…”

“Did I what?”

“Is this a date?” There’s a pause.

“I was kinda hoping it would be.” His little smile speaks more than words. “It doesn’t have to be though if you don’t want it to be.”

“No, no. I um, I want it to be, too.”

Ed tries to suppress his growing smile. “Good. Great. That’s great. Do you want to…?”

You follow his gaze and see what he’s referring to - your big fluffy robe.

“Oh right!” You giggle. “I’ll just be a minute.”

After you’ve ditched the robe and freshened up a bit, you head back downstairs to a waiting Ed Stevens. And now you can’t help but have a sliver of hope that maybe your curse has been broken.

[iwriteficsnottragediesladies]

Quite a Ride

A/N: Tell me you don’t want to spend some time with this man’s quality thighs. Unf. This was a request from long ago and I’ve been meaning to write it! Thigh riding is a sort of “kink” of mine, if you can call it that, so this shit is hot af to me. There’s one bandom reference (it’s a pretty easy one), so comment if you find it. I hope you guys enjoy it ;)

Pic Source: http://killjoyunicorn.co.vu/

You spent your whole afternoon at the fair. You let your adult life fall away and became a child, your world a playground. Every time you would giggle, Brendon would look at you like you were the first sunrise he’d ever seen.

You went on dizzying rides, stumbling off of them, laughing together.

“Stay in your lane, boy!” you poked him as he trips into you.

You couldn’t get enough of your sugar-crazed adrenaline rush. It was all so overwhelming, yet exciting and wildly satisfying. It was much like falling for Brendon. Of course, you wouldn’t tell him that out loud--you had only been officially dating for a month.

You’re still giggling as you fall through the door of your apartment, clutching the brightly colored plush frog you had won at one of the booths. Brendon pushes your back up against the wall and gives you a quick kiss. You grin and he smile down at you.

“Do you want to get ready for bed, baby?��� He asked.

Baby. You like this new nickname.

“Mhm,” you nodded, knowing that you would be coming down from your high sometime soon.

You’ve slept over at Brendon’s a couple of times now. You’ve made out with him, but that’s as far as it’s ever gone. Your sleepovers consist more of snuggling when you’re too tired (or drunk) to go home, than anything sexual.

He knows you’re a virgin. It drunkenly came out the first night you had met. You were in a group and as soon as your friends noticed your chemistry with Brendon, the conversation devolved into your need for more sexual escapades. In retrospect, it was kind of nice to get that conversation out of the way. He knew that the pace of your relationship would be slow.

It showed. You were still kind of shy and Brendon could tell. He didn’t dare go any further than exactly what you asked. He respected you endlessly.

Tonight, you’re feeling a little differently after such an adventurous day. It seemed to be carrying over to how you felt as you laid in Brendon’s bed, watching him closely as he pulled on his boxer shorts. He strolled over to join you.

“What?” He inquired with a curious smile as he went to pull back the covers.

“Nothing,” you replied nonchalantly. He narrowed his eyes with a smirk.

“What are you thinking about, Y/n?” He asked.

“I had a ton of fun today,” you said, side-stepping the question a bit.

“Me too,” he agreed happily as he slid under the blanket and you cuddled up to him.

Now that you were laying on your sides, nose to nose, some of your daring nature retreated, giving way to a bit of anxiety. You wanted him so badly, but you just weren’t sure of how to go about it. What if you messed something up? You try to suppress your desire.

He kisses you softly. You can still taste the cotton candy on his lips, making his mouth sweeter than ever. It brings you back to the colorful lights and silly music, laughter and swirling rides.

He pulls you closer and you melt into him, making things heat up. Your kisses deepened, tongues slipping through parted lips.

He placed a hand down on your hip while the other ran through your hair. One of his thighs rested between your knees. You want more of him.

You put your hand over his and begin to move it a little. At first, Brendon thinks you are trying to move it away and he is ready to withdraw. He realizes you are moving it toward your inner thigh where you let it rest. He gently squeezed and you exhale shakily against his mouth.

You start to roll your hips aimlessly towards his thigh. You were so close to having the friction you wanted. He squeezed your thigh once again and you hopelessly buck your hips harder with a pitiful whimper. You put your hand on his chest and and can’t resist rubbing your own thighs together, unable to hold in another whimper.

Brendon looks at you and found your eyes pressed shut gently, a pull of longing painting your lips. Your breathe is still uneven and he watches you struggle to keep your hips still. Your desperation was painfully obvious, and honestly hot as fuck, too.

“Baby,” Brendon said, his voice steady and quiet, “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” You breathed, practically begging.

Brendon slid his hand farther, reaching your wet core. He gently rubbed a circle over your folds and you nearly cried out.

“Brendon,” you whined, the sensation almost too much. He stopped, just resting his hand there with a slight pressure that drove you crazy.

“Do you want this?” He asked softly.

“Yes,” you sighed longingly, opening your eyes to look at him.

“Do you trust me?” He asked gently.

“Yes,” you said again emphatically, holding his gaze.

“Just let go, baby” He said sweetly, “I’ve got you.”

You had never been so turned on in your entire life. You relaxed into his touch and shivered, pushing yourself against his palm. Your lips open softly.

“Oh god,” fell from your tongue.

Brendon moved his leg to in between yours and you grind into it.

“O-oh,” you respond to the sensation. You latch on and go again, the feeling only intensifying. “F-fuck.”

You rut your hips against him again and it’s very clear you are enjoying yourself.

“You want to ride my thigh, sweetheart?” He asked simply. There was nothing dirty nor innocent in his tone of voice. It was just purely Brendon and you felt completely comfortable, finally unashamed of your desire.

You can only nod in response. He rolls onto his back and takes your hands, encouraging you to turn and sit on his toned thigh. You quickly mount it and place your hands on either side of his head to support yourself. You place yourself down and look down at him.

“Make yourself feel good, baby,” He encouraged you in a whisper.

You rock forward, a moan escaping from your mouth. You pick up a rhythm and you give in to how good it feels.

You’re so wet, you glide easily over him. He holds your hips gently, keeping you stable so you can focus on the sensation. He watches you, admiring how beautiful you looked. You lean down further and envelope his lips in hot kisses, so grateful to be on top of him like this.

You look down his body and see the prominent tent in his boxers. You palm over it and he nearly jumps, grunting. You break off from the kiss with a devious smile and speak into his ear.

“Touch yourself,” you direct him in a whisper. His breath hitches in his throat, the hair on his neck rises. He doesn’t waste any time, eagerly complying with your request. You love having this effect on him.

“F-fuck, Y/n,” He stutters as he grips himself.

“Yes,” you say to yourself, feeling your orgasm building. “Oh fuck, yes.”

Brendon can’t stand watching you come undone above him and finds himself embarrassingly close.

“You feel so good, Bren,” You breathe.

“So good,” Brendon replies. The grateful expression on his face was only getting you closer. You close your eyes.

“Brendon,” you murmur. You grip his shoulders and lean yourself back a little, wonderfully hitting a new spot. “Oh god!” you moan.

He tenses up his muscle and you practically scream.

“Yes Brendon!” you cry out desperately. You rock faster, unable to keep yourself from the sensation.

“Uh, uh, uh,” Brendon grunts as he pumps himself.

“Oh-h fuck,” you pant, sliding further up him.

“FUCK,” he shudders as your leg brushes over his cock.

“Oh g-GOD, fuck Bren,” You voice jumps an octave higher, “Ah, ah!” He can hear how close you are.

“Cum on my thigh, baby,” He whispers.

“OH BREN!” you cry with your voice thinning. You’re trying to hold it back.

“Just let go, baby,” He encourages you, “Let go.”

“YES! FUCK, YES! BRENDON!” You then spiral, an orgasm pouring out of you. You’re unable to speak, barely even breathing as pleasure tears through you. Brendon can’t stand it.

“FUCK Y/N!” Brendon shouts. He shoots strings of cum into the fabric of his boxers.

“Oh fff-fuck,” You sigh, riding out the wave of pleasure racing through your core.

“Shit Y/n,” Brendon purrs.

You collapse down on top of him, breathing against his chest.

He needs a moment to gather himself. Your weight on top of him, your bodies pressed together, was delicious. You left his thigh dripping and the wetness of his boxers had soaked your leg. He strokes your sides with his fingertips.

The sensation is cooling, like a fizzing that dissolves you further into him. You can’t seem to get a grip, too lost in your glow. Brendon’s voice manages to pull you away.

“Um,” he chuckled, “Are you okay?”

You realize you’re still lying on him, just floating in the haze of your orgasm. You roll off of him and giggle.

“Sorry,” you smile, feeling embarrassed.

“Y/n,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss to your neck “Don’t, apologize, ever.”

You tilt your chin and can’t help but giggle, his lips tickling the sensitive skin.

“That was amazing,” You run your hand through his dark locks.

“You’re gorgeous,” He said.

You smile widely, but it fades. Brendon immediately notices.

“I’m sorry that I’m not...” you try to find the words “As, you know, fun as y--”

He cuts you off.

“Baby, you know I don’t care about how far we go,” He reassures you, stroking your cheek.

“I’m sorry, I just wish I could give you what you want,” You look away.

“What I want is you, who you are,” he said confidently, “I don’t want anything else.”

You smile hesitantly.

“Y/n, you just made me cum in my boxers like a teenage boy,” He chuckled, “You didn’t even have to touch me.”

Now you’re laughing. Brendon has such a way with making you feel at ease with yourself, even with what you see as your flaws.

“It was perfect,” You declared.

“Y/n,” He spoke suddenly, “I’m falling in love with you.”

“I know,” you reply with a smirk. He looks to you with a look of mock-betrayal.

“Did you seriously just Han Solo me?!” He gasped. You both laugh. Finally you get it together and look at him and nod.

“I’m falling in love with you too, Brendon.”

A/N: Woo! Imma go take a cold shower now. Like/reblog if you’re feelin’ it!

[teamsharoncarter-archive]

Hey dude, I'm sorry if my tag give you negative impressions and it triggers problems god knows you don't want to experience. It would be hard to accept different opinions on tumblr because we're communicating in a third medium, misunderstandings are bound to happen. If people in the fandom are actually making your life hell and actually personally attack you, I'm offering ears to your story. I know how shitty people can give anxiety and maybe sharing it can ease your burden. That if you want to

I have calmed down now (who knew chores could clear your mind right?). Also, I want this ask and answer to be public so people know what happened and don’t send either of us hate or whatever. (That’s happened before so it’s for mine and your protection). But if you feel uncomfortable with that, I will gladly delete this post and send it via submission.

Hey I want to say thank you, for apologizing. I would also like to apologize. I was already in a beginnings of a manic episode that I felt in me, and when that volcano just erupted, I “spewed the lava” onto you and you didn’t deserve that so I’m sorry about that. I’m trying to do better with it. And I probably should have been more clear, I will work on that too.

Yeah the five years of being on here were hell. (In fact I have a post labeled “Five Fucking Years [link]” that is the summary of the hell - but no where near explains exactly what I’ve had to deal with.) My blog archive on this one only shows 3 years, but I had two different blogs—and a failed remake for this blog—until I remade into “teamsharoncarter” (tsc is like, my tenth url on this blog omg).

I kinda ranted about the Five Hell Years of Fandom below, it’s kinda long, so it’s under a read more.

So my Fandom Life started way back in 2012 on fanfictiondotnet, and 2013 on tumblr.

First thing negative I ever had happen to me, is that a person reported and had my fanfic deleted because I “falsely advertised on the fanfic summary” as stated on the last review before my fanfic was just Gone. FFN didn’t even warn me or back it up at all. And because people badgered me for an update because I wasn’t Spitting Out A New Chapter Every Hour, the demands made a deadline for something that wasn’t supposed to have a deadline made me worry that people would hate me if I didn’t Immediately Post Now, so I posted One Paragraph chapters that were rushed and gross, because I thought they just wanted quantity, not quality. So then I started getting Hate Reviews because it was rushed and not “proper length for a chapter.” (Thank God for James Patterson for his One Page Chapters that taught me, who cares if it’s one page? You wrote down what you wanted in the story without somehow jamming it into another chapter.)

Imaginary deadline made me anxious like a school deadline, which made me feel bad for not posting anything for months which lead to more anxiety which lead to feeling like crap everyday for not posting which eventually lead to spiraling depression.

So I left fanfictiondotnet behind me. And did a dumbass decision to join tumblr. I’ve seen other authors on FFN talk about visiting their blogs and chat with them and stuff, so I thought it would be a fun place to hang with fellow fans.

I was right for a little bit.

Then I reblogged a post that upset one of my few followers. Next thing I knew, I was getting sent messages about how I’m a menace to society for liking this one couple or something (like if I remember correctly, it was a think it was thalico - about 7 months before Nico was confirmed gay). And so because I said “fuck off” because like, 13 years old, why do you wanna worry about that stuff when all you want is fun right? So whenever I got a message from them, I’d delete it. I’d block them over and over again, because either they were using friend’s accounts or a different computer, I’ll never know. After they were Proven Right that their headcanon was canon, they were like “see! i told you!” as if it was okay for them to constantly harass me because their headcanon that a character was gay was confirmed.

What made me finally leave that blog was that I kinda got into a fight, like we did, but they twisted the words I was trying to say, which I got irrationally angry at, and they vagued me, and also not so vagued me, (which is why I don’t take kindly to that anymore) to their followers, which lead to hundreds of anons in my inbox about how I should die and should kill myself. I tried to tell the person, but they had me blocked after they vagued me, and so I had my friend tell them, but all they got was a laugh in the face about how I was childish for trying to stop what I deserved.

So I deleted that blog, remade another one, where I would just reblog, not comment, not have ask open, not post personal opinions, nothing. Just a simple reblog blog. That didn’t work either because I started to feel lonely, and the only follower I had was my sister.

So I tried FFN again, new account, new fanfic ideas, new ships, new identity, and put a link to my blog on my bio and decided to open up my ask for any convos my readers wanted for the fanfic—specifically things like theories for the next chapter. I even made sure to have three chapters ready, so I would post one chapter per week, which gave me time to write the next one, to give a nice flow. Which was a big mistake. I started to get the same “UPDATE!” messages, so I would post the next chapter anyway because I have a compulsion to please people, which restarted the spiraling because I no longer had the cushion to have more time to write. I though the update demands would shut up if I gave them three in the same day. But then, I also got hate reviews for my fanfics in my ask. About how everyone was Out Of Character or Not Together With Their OTP. And so I deleted the accounts and just started over again.

With this blog.

I started not talking to anyone but the few friends I made on my previous blog. I reblogged a lot of gen stuff, then as a month went by with nothing, no sign of hate, I decided to reblog shippy stuff, I changed my icon to my OTP.

Which upset practically everyone.

I was sent not only that I should die or kill myself, but death threats and rape threats and just weird ass shit. I get sent messages that my otp/fave character was abusive (steve/tony, fave character is tony) and that I was an abuse apologist and that I should be filled with concrete to they could “smash me into a million piece or sculp me into a human being with more decency”. So since then I just would, block anyone who I saw was even a little negative toward the things I loved, because I thought, if I put up the barricade now, they can’t get me later. But then I started showing love to other ships and characters and it would just start all over again. And then people I already had blocked would somehow find my posts, screenshot them, post it making fun of it without removing my url, then send hoards of people after me. And when asked to stop, they laughed at me more.

I changed my url, and saved the old url with a redirect to a “not found” page so they thing I deleted and I was save for awhile.

I posted a picture of me as sharon for halloween - I didn’t have a white catsuit, but I did have a vest like Sharon did in CW so I wore that (2 people recognized who I was trying to be) - and then I got this ask: “You are ugly. So is Sharon. [link]” and yeah my answer was basically “wow anon lol pathetic hate”, it still got to me?

I don’t know what has made me stick it out with this one for so long. Maybe because I have a lot of followers now, maybe because of the friends I made, maybe it’s my “fuck this fuck you i’m staying” spite. I don’t know. I just know that I’m tired.

I’m tired of defending myself and the fiction characters I love. I’m tired of constantly being told by my own invasive thoughts and by real people, that my life doesn’t equal that of a fiction characters. That fiction characters are somehow worth more than me, a living breathing human.

[craft-rose]

own it

Title: Own It

Pairing: Jimin + Reader

A/N: Repost from a side blog. 

You held your breath as the plane shook through a pocket of turbulence. One of the overhead compartments in economy burst open, but only a backpack fell out. The pretty flight attendant who had served you a glass of orange juice earlier, rushed to collect the backpack and stow it away. To your surprise, the other passengers remained fast asleep. You were the only one awake; the only aviophobe on board, it seemed.  

To make matters worse, you were alone. You were usually too scared to fly alone, but you hadn’t a choice this time. It was either you fly alone or you withdraw from the study abroad programme that you had been looking forward to since the beginning of the year.

You were currently on your way to the furthest you had ever been from home.  

It was your first time away, and you were incredibly excited, but also nervous due to the flying.

You knew there was a very small chance that anything bad would happen on the plane ride there, but you couldn’t help the anxious knot in your stomach. No matter how many drinks you consumed, you simply could not shake the fear that your feet would never touch ground again.

“You don’t like flying very much, do you?”

You darted a look to the left, locking eyes with the young man in the seat beside you. He was in the middle seat, you were in the aisle seat, and the middle-aged woman clumped in the same row as both of you was in the window seat. She had knocked out before the plane had even lifted off, but the young man in the middle had fallen asleep for only an hour or two, the gentle hum of music escaping his earbuds as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

The turbulence had seemingly woken him up, but he didn’t seem all that bothered.

He popped one of his earbuds out, presumably so he could hear you even though you hadn’t said anything.

The inside of your mouth dried out as you opened it to speak. “I … no, not really,” You admitted, loosening your grasp on the armrests. The joints in your fingers slowly relaxed, aching from how tight you had been holding on a moment ago.

“I’m Jimin,” the young man introduced, pushing his hair back and then fixing it in place with his navy blue snapback.

You forced a smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Jimin. I’m —”

The lights in the cabin flickered off and then on as the plane shook yet again.

Your throat tightened around the words you were going to say, and you immediately closed your eyes, counting in your head to keep from spiralling into a panic.

“I didn’t catch that,” Jimin said to you, rather disarmingly. “What did you say your name was?”

“Uh …” You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking one eye open to see that the plane was still firmly in the air, and everyone was okay, before opening your mouth to speak. “I didn’t. It’s ____.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ____,” he said back, bowing his head to you in a show of respect.

You weren’t used to that sort of thing, but you returned the gesture as best you could.

Jimin smirked. “So, what other irrational fears do you have other than flying?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, I wouldn’t call it irrational ...”

“You have a higher chance of getting struck by lightning than you do dying in a fiery plane crash in the middle of the Atlantic,” he explained, almost too casually. “Look it up if you don’t believe me.”

Your bottom lip tensed as he passed his phone to you. There was wi-fi onboard but your phone had lost its charge hours ago. To satisfy your own curiosity, and to distract from all the shaking and flickering, you grabbed hold of the strange boy’s phone and unlocked the screen, startled to find a background image of him and six other boys of approximately the same age on some sort of magazine cover.

You looked to him very briefly, a dash of surprise in your features. “What are you, some sort of Instagram model?”

His smirk was swept away as he chuckled, shrugging after. “Something like that,” he uttered. “Anyway, look up the chances of a plane crash. They’re shockingly low.”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re disappointed?” You asked in jest, smiling as your eyes slowly drifted to the tallest boy in the background image. “Oh, wow. What’s his name?”

“Pfft. Jin? Really? The least you could do is go for the one furthest to the right. He’s an amazing dancer, you know.”

You looked to the right, surprised to find a short but handsome boy who's clothes were tight in all the wrong (right?) places. “Well, he is quite … wait, that’s you!”

Jimin chuckled at your expense, grabbing hold of his phone as you shoved it back.

“So, you’re a dancer, then?” You asked, almost annoyed that you were still curious.

“Kind of,” he shrugged, keeping it vague for whatever reason. “What do you do?”

You were nearing your twenty-second birthday, and yet you still had no idea how to answer that question without spiralling into a state of existential crisis. “I’m … a student.”

Jimin nodded along, unbeknownst to your inner turmoil. “Ah, you must be smart, then.”

“I would hope so,” You offered, quickly changing the subject after. “What style of dance do you do?”

“Hip-hop mostly, but I know some other styles, too,” he explained. “Have you heard of Brian Puspos?”

You nodded, recognizing the name almost immediately. “My friends and I used to watch his dance videos all the time.”

“Ah, well in that case, you might like this.”

In a matter of seconds, you were glancing down at his phone screen, sharing his earbuds between the two of you as he played a dance cover for you to watch. It was one of Brian Puspos’ pieces, but the dancers in the video were noticeably younger. For a hot second you had no idea who they were, but you quickly recognized the boy in the torn black jeans as he came into the light.

As fate would have it, he was wearing those same jeans on the plane, directly next to you.

You felt your stomach tense up as you watched.

He was good, alarmingly good. The other boy was good, too, but Jimin’s moves were smoother, more refined.

He made it look effortless.

You briefly thought back to when you used to dance, falling into those old memories until Jimin interrupted your train of thought.

“Good, right?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. You’re … you’re really good,” You confessed, leaning away as the video came to an end.

He tucked his phone away, looking to you through the corner of his eye as you exhaled. “Do you listen to Korean music?” he eventually asked.

You took a moment to realize he had spoken, quickly snapping out of it after. “Uh, you mean like G-Dragon?”

He smirked, nodding. “Yeah, like G-Dragon.”

You ignored the twitch of curiosity in your gut and continued. “My friends are into it, but I don’t really have time to keep up with music anymore.”

“Which groups do they like?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, a bunch. SHINee, Big Bang, the one with a million girls …”

“What about BTS?”

“BTS? I don’t think I’ve heard of that one,” You admitted, looking to him. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he smiled, born with the magical ability of looking ten years younger every time.

You narrowed your eyes at him a moment, opening your mouth to question him further until the cabin shook yet again, this time violently. Even Jimin jumped in his seat a little. The woman in the seat beside him stirred awake, quickly falling back asleep as the turbulence dwindled down.

You tightened your death grip on the armrests to either side of you, realizing moments later that your hand was clasped firmly over Jimin’s. Cheeks aflame, you immediately yanked your hand away. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean t—”

“It’s okay,” he interjected, relaxing after. “I thought we were going down for a second.”

“Don’t say that!” You blurted through your teeth, earning another one of those disarming looks.

“What would you do if we were going down?” he asked.

You shot a look at him, mouth agape. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he assured you, lightheartedly despite the subject matter. “Personally, I have no idea what I would do in that situation. Part of me wants to say I would scramble to contact my family one last time, but I would probably just scream.”

You glared at the young man, thoroughly unamused. “You are not helping.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “I just think about these things sometimes. I fly so often for my job, I can’t help but wonder what I would do if anything bad were to ever happen.”

“Is that why you were in LA? For your job?” You asked, the tension in your veins slowly fading.

He nodded. “Yeah, my group and I were there for the weekend. I was supposed to be on the same flight as them, but there was a mixup at the airport.”

For whatever reason, you were comforted to know you weren’t the only one alone. “Is this your first time flying by yourself?”

Jimin paused to think. “Yeah, actually. Huh.”

“You don’t seem all that afraid.”

“I’m not. The only thing that really scares me is ghosts,” he confessed.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on …” You took a moment to wrap your head around it. “You’re afraid of ghosts, and you were making fun of me for my irrational fear earlier?”

He flashed a guilty smile at you, a tactic he had seemingly perfected. You quietly wondered how many girls had fallen victim to that puppy-dog stare, rapidly pulling yourself out of it before you followed in their steps.

You had only just met this Jimin guy, but you had to admit, he certainly had a way about him. An unassuming quality that was in stark contrast to his refined dance skill. You couldn’t decide if he was cute like a teddy bear or … the other side of the spectrum. With a hard swallow you stopped trying to decide, looking away to hide the warmth which soon flooded your cheeks.

Jimin was seemingly unaware, resorting to his music as the pilot’s voice tore a hole through the veil of quiet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. We will be landing in Seoul in approximately twenty minutes time. As we begin our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Thank you …”

You breathed a sigh of relief, looking to Jimin as he shot you a quick, almost unnoticeable, wink.

“Looks like you made it, ____,” he added.

You ignored the twist in your stomach and nodded, just itching to tell your best friend about the weird boy you had met on the plane. “Looks like we both did.”