#that i genuinely thought that it was a normal thing to feel

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

bodyguard!toji was a man who stood out wherever he went.

there were plenty of reasons for this. first of all, he was a genuinely big guy. with a build like that, it wasn’t surprising that heads turned the moment he stepped into any place. he was basically made for the job. the other reason? well, he was just ridiculously handsome.

after the latest scandal, your father had to take control of the family’s image. naturally, the most logical solution was to find a bodyguard who could actually keep you in check. you’d had bodyguards before, but none of them could handle your recklessness and carefree attitude.

but this mysterious man, so much older than you, was honestly a nightmare.

wherever you went, he was there. shopping? he’d be by your side even if you walked around for five hours. heading to a club? he’d show up to snatch your drink out of your hand if you drank too much. you’d tried to escape a few times, but it usually ended with him showing up in front of you by the tenth second, saying, ��running away won’t work, ma’am,” and sticking to you like glue again.

in short, there was no escaping this man.

worse yet, he never said a word to you beyond the usual “good morning, ma’am,” “good evening, ma’am,” or “where are you headed, ma’am?” you weren’t in a position to be friends. for one, he was your bodyguard. and he was much, much older than you. the kind of age gap where having anything in common seemed impossible. not that you wanted friendship anyway. all you wanted was to feel like you weren’t completely alone.

“do you have friends, fushiguro?” you asked him as you sat in the car on the way home from meeting up with your friends.

“i can’t disclose any information about my personal life, ma’am,” he replied, short and to the point.

you laughed and teased, “it was just a simple question.”

your bodyguard turned his expressionless, intimidating face toward you. “please focus on deciding what you’ll wear for tonight’s gala, ma’am. your father requested you wear a navy-blue dress.”

“that old man controls everything about my life. what century does he think we’re living in? and why are you telling me this now?” the fact that your father had informed your bodyguard instead of you about what you should wear annoyed you.

“i mentioned it yesterday morning, ma’am.”

shit, did he? you didn’t remember a thing. “you can call me by my name, fushiguro. you’re older than me, after all.”

his face remained unreadable. “noted, ma’am.”

you frowned at his stubbornness. “didn’t you just hear what i said?”

in his usual stern tone, he responded, “i heard you, ma’am.”

“gosh…” you leaned back against the leather seat, looking out the window. “you’re never going to stop calling me ‘ma’am,’ are you, fushiguro?”

“never, ma’am.”

once again, you were reminded that having anything close to a normal conversation with this man was hopeless.

that evening, as you applied your makeup for the gala, your eyes wandered to the navy-blue dress hanging in your dressing room closet. it was just as your father wanted. the velvet, sleeveless gown was elegant and definitely gave off the impression of being “the daughter of one of the most important families in the world.” you actually loved the dress. what you didn’t love was your father dictating even the color of your outfit.

after one last look in the mirror, you headed to your dressing room to get dressed. shrugging off the satin robe, you slipped into the gown that lightly tickled your skin. your hand reached for the zipper at the back, trying to pull it up.

but that’s as far as you got.

no matter how much you tried, the zipper refused to move. it must’ve gotten caught in the fabric. grumbling to yourself about having to take the dress off to fix it, a knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. that familiar stern, respectful voice called out.

“ma’am, are you ready?”

you would be. if the zipper would cooperate, you’d definitely be ready.

“uhh, just a second! i’m having a minor fashion emergency.”

“is everything all right, ma’am?” this time, his voice sounded concerned.

“yeah, yeah, i just… my zipper’s stuck, but i’ll handle it. please wait a moment, fushiguro.”

there was a brief silence. while still trying to fix the zipper without taking the dress off, you heard him again. “ma’am, if you wish, i can assist you.”

honestly, help sounded really good right now.

“a little help would be great!” you called out in relief, and the door slowly opened.

toji stepped in, wearing his perfectly tailored black suit. of course, he was always in a suit. come to think of it, you’d never seen him in casual clothes.

his sharp eyes scanned the room before landing on you, standing by the mirror in your dressing area, holding up the gown to keep it from slipping. without wasting a second, he walked over, stepping behind you. his hands hovered over your loose hair, silently asking for permission before gently moving it to the front.

you regretted asking for help immediately because now your heart was racing.

you couldn’t understand why. sure, he was handsome, muscular, and incredibly mature, but you’d never been this flustered around him before.

toji’s large hands quickly fixed the stuck zipper, but he didn’t pull it up right away. you weren’t sure why he hesitated. he should’ve just zipped it and ended this. stealing a glance in the mirror, you saw your handsome bodyguard swallowing hard, as if he was battling some inner turmoil, like he thought he was doing something wrong.

his thick fingers finally gripped the zipper, pulling it up slowly. you dropped your gaze to the floor, feeling every slight touch of his fingers against your skin. the slow movements only made things worse, as if he was deliberately savoring the contact.

this was definitely wrong. you shouldn’t have felt butterflies in your stomach. your heart shouldn’t have raced faster with every light graze of his fingers against your back. in fact, he shouldn’t have been the one helping you at all.

when he finally zipped the dress up to the top, his fingers lingered on the zipper. you kept your eyes down, but you could feel his intense gaze through the mirror.

“you look beautiful, ma’am. your father will be pleased with your choice,” he said in his usual deep, stern tone, though it was softer than usual.

“thank you.” your eyes flickered to the mirror, locking onto his green ones. for the first time, his usually stoic and unreadable eyes seemed to hold something unsaid.

“you’re welcome, ma’am.” his hand moved away from the zipper, but not before his fingers brushed against the bare skin of your arm. his movements were deliberate, as if he wanted to savor the warmth of your skin for just a second longer.

you kept staring at him through the mirror. when his fingers reached your wrist, they paused. his calloused fingertips traced small circles there, and without breaking eye contact, he leaned slightly toward the side of your exposed neck.

“every color you wear suits you, princess, but this one… this one’s the best yet.”

you forgot how to breathe. how to speak. all you could do was stand there, frozen, feeling his calloused fingers brush against your wrist and the weight of his words settle into your chest.

then, just like that, he stepped back, severing all contact. “please put on your shoes. i’ll be waiting downstairs, ma’am.”

even after he left the room, you stood there in front of the mirror, completely still. whatever had just happened, you couldn’t make sense of it. was it the way he touched your skin, or was it the compliment? you didn’t know. all you knew was that you stood there like an idiot, reliving the moment.

but the thing that stuck with you the most? it wasn’t the touch, the compliment, or the lingering gazes.

it was the way he’d called you “princess.”

so many people had called you that before, but hearing it from bodyguard!toji felt entirely different. it was like indulging in something you weren’t supposed to have. a sinful kind of pleasure.

for the first time in your life, in a world where you despised being controlled, you found yourself wishing to be held back by someone.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[gumims]

have you noticed yet? | gojo x reader

it was supposed to be a normal day at the university. you were in the courtyard, trying to get through some reading before your next class when, as usual, gojo satoru showed up. you could feel his presence before you even saw him, the undeniable aura of chaos he brought with him.

“hey, you’re looking extra focused today,” gojo’s voice cut through the air as he approached, plopping himself down beside you without asking.

you didn’t even look up. “what do you want, gojo?”

he kicked his feet up onto the table, knocking a couple of your papers to the ground. “just thought i’d check in on my favorite person.”

“favorite person, huh?” you finally glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “since when am i your favorite?”

“since forever,” he grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. “you’ve just been too busy pretending you don’t like me to notice.”

you rolled your eyes, going back to your book. “don’t start with me today. i’m trying to study.”

“oh, i know,” he said, leaning in closer with that playful, irritating smirk of his. “but i can tell you’re not really studying. something’s distracting you, isn’t it?”

you bit back a sigh. he always had a way of getting under your skin. “it’s none of your business.”

“it is when i’m the distraction.” gojo’s grin widened, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place. “you’re always so serious, y/n. it’s cute.”

you looked at him, eyes narrowing. “seriously, gojo, what do you want?”

his grin faded slightly, and for a second, he actually looked serious. almost too serious. “i want you to stop pretending like you don’t notice me.”

“i notice you,” you said flatly, “but that doesn’t mean i like you.”

“no, but it does mean you’re lying to yourself,” he shot back, his voice suddenly quiet. “you notice me more than anyone else does. you pay attention to every little thing i do. i see it.”

you froze for a moment, caught off guard. “what are you talking about?

“i’m talking about the fact that you’re not as immune to me as you like to think you are,” gojo continued, his usual cocky smile back in place. “you act like you’re annoyed, but deep down, i know you’re always waiting for me to show up.”

you stood up abruptly, your heart pounding in your chest. “you’re crazy.”

“am i?” gojo’s voice softened, more genuine than you expected. “maybe i am. but i’m not wrong.”

you wanted to snap at him, tell him to stop messing with you, but something in his eyes made you hesitate. he wasn’t joking anymore. the usual teasing tone was gone. he was… serious.

“you’re definitely crazy,” you muttered, taking a step back.

gojo chuckled softly, standing up too. “maybe. but i’m not joking about this.”

you frowned at him. “what are you trying to say?”

he smirked again, leaning closer as if the world around him didn’t matter. “i’m saying that i like you. yeah, i like you. and you can pretend you don’t care, but we both know you do.”

you stood there, caught between disbelief and confusion. “wait, are you—”

“yeah, i’m saying it,” gojo interrupted, shrugging like it was no big deal. “i like you. and i’m done pretending i don’t.”

you opened your mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in your throat. gojo was looking at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world. like he wasn’t even fazed by his own confession.

he flashed that trademark grin of his, turning to leave. “so, what are you gonna do about it, huh?”

you stared after him, still processing what just happened. gojo satoru had just told you he liked you. not in some roundabout way, not with any games. he’d just said it.

and you didn’t know what to do with that.

but maybe you also like him back.

[gallusrostromegalus]

I simply must know, would the teenage friend groups (dead guys included) of AEIWAM and TPOFATGIF get along? Any standout crossover friendships and/or rivalries?

Ichigo and Tristan recognize the dead-eyed stare of "It's always fucking something" in each other and have a great time standing in the alley and trading their most WTF stories at increasingly loud volume.

Bakura and Orihime are immediate "autistic little weirdo into unexpectedly creepy shit" besties. The rest of the friend groups find them in the local graveyard looking up names on unattended tombstones to see what happened (and pay respects).

Chad immediately gloms onto Joey to be his Emotional Support Human who has conversations with strangers for him. Joey is thrilled to be helpful, and likewise, Chad is his "Remembering the Homework" human.

Serenity smells the violence on Tatsuki and is immediately trying to sign her up for the local SCA. Tatsuki is trying to convince her to attend Karakura High next year so she can beef up the Karate team.

Keigo already knows Rex Raptor and Weevil Underwood from the unhinged web forums they get into arguments on.

Mizurio already knows Mokuba from when Mokuba commissioned one of Mizurio's mob uncles to get one of the BEWD cards through less-than-legal means. Mokuba has immense respect for Mizurio's total disregard for conventional authority and Mizurio the same respect for Mokuba's understated willingness to do violence.

Uryuu and Duke bond over "my dad is completely insane for reasons I can't really discuss with most people" and "it's called FASHION" reasons.

The people who get along best with Seto are Rukia and Renji, because they are used to "autistic bougie severe familial trauma that is fixated on one VERY niche character" nonsense from Byakuya, and know how to auto-translate Seto into Normal People, and also subtly train him to have normal conversations.

The person who gets along with Yami is Isshin- in AEIWAM, Isshin genuinely has amnesia from 1980 onward. He doesn't remember being a captain, and hearing stories about himself is like hearing about a stranger. It's a bizarre feeling of alienation Yami understands well.

Yoruichi sees Mai Valentine and immediately knows that should they go drinking together, it will almost certainly result in major property damage, felonies, and the worst hangover she's ever had, so naturally, she asks the girl to come on a spree with her.

Yugi has always had an easier time making friends with the adults around than his peers- having friends his own age is a very recent development. Due to Grandpa Solomon hanging around the senior center with his peer group of "Old Men With Nothing Better To Do", Yugi is very acclimated to playing board games with random adults. Kisuke Urahara hasn't had anyone kick his ass at Go that hard in a long time, and the kid is strangely canny to things Kisuke *thought* he'd concealed well. Yugi thinks Urahara 's Go game is a little rusty, but whatever the hell espionage game he's playing is REALLY intriguing.

[dykecubes]

I was a hardcore dream fan up until the point the initial grooming accusations (the stuff in from the “The Truth” video).

I think a lot of people call Dream fans a cult kind of like,,,,, either insultingly or hyperbolically. Like they aren’t really thinking that the group is cult-like, and are saying it just because of the extreme devotion to dream through controversies. As a former fan tho, my experience genuinely does feel somewhat cult-like to me (I don’t want to downplay real cults, but I don’t have another word).

Cults often target people who are lonely and vulnerable and offer them community in return for not questioning things. I joined the dream fan community a couple months into the pandemic. I was very lonely. I had depression that I had just started getting treatment for (literally one session and I was still unmedicated) at my college, before getting ripped away from my hope things were going to get better. I wasn’t out to my parents, so living at home again meant getting constantly misgendered.

in short, I wasn’t feeling great. And Dream- you have to understand how much of his fan community (at least on tumblr) is into the idea that he loves his fans, and he loves his friends. And getting to watch those friendships felt like living vicariously. And having someone tell me they loved me, even if I knew I was just another fan helped. For a long time during the pandemic, the dream team were the literal highlight of my day. They were often the reason I got out of bed. I knew even then that that wasn’t healthy, but I was having trouble figuring out how else to get through things.

even after going back to college after the first vaccine had come out, Dream (watching and re-watching videos, interacting with the community) remained a pillar of my mental health. Less so, but if I needed to calm down, I watched a dream video. A lot of my free time was spent in fan spaces. I really, really put him on a pedestal.

I cannot describe to you how anxious I was when the grooming allegations came out. I genuinely started feeling nauseous all the time. I was checking my phone obsessively. I’m not going back to look at these, but I remember that dream had some initial responses (long Reddit post and whatnot). There wasn’t enough there to really make anything clear/disproven and the girls looked like they had a lot of evidence, so I was still anxious and sick and feeling like I was waiting in limbo to find out what was really going on. Trying to prep myself to accept that things might not be what I hoped, as much as I didn’t want to believe it.

when I logged on, the vibe in my tumblr circle was… very different. A lot of people (except for a few that ended up leaving with me) were acting like everything was disproven and it was all good and we could go back to normal times, with a few posts about how disgusting it was that someone would fake something like that. My first response was, honestly, confusion. I thought that I must have been being stupid and missed something or not understood something. So I politely sent an ask to a big name in the community that I trusted to be smart and explain things well, saying that I wasn’t sure we had enough evidence to really dismiss the accusations and asking why she thought that everything was disproven. She gave me exactly the same information that I already knew, while calling me stupid and saying that if I didn’t believe dream that I should just get the fuck out.

I felt suddenly, unpleasantly woken up. I wasn’t being stupid or missing evidence that would fully exonerate dream (maybe there was evidence like that in “the truth”. I never watched it, couldn’t). They just wanted to believe Dream wasn’t guilty, so they did, and twisted things until that made sense. Because they wanted to feel excited and loved again, instead of the crushing anxiety and dread I was in. And I thought about my own reactions, and I knew that I had been so fucking anxious over someone I didn’t even know because secretly I also wanted Dream to be exonerated. I wanted to bury my head in the sand and pretend that it simply wasn’t true because of what being a dream fan gave to me: bits of happiness and community.

And I was really scared of myself. Because I wanted to not believe those girls, not because I thought I had evidence otherwise, but because it would make me feel better. And I knew that was really, really shitty, and that that was something I had to stop in its tracks. And that I NEEDED to not be as obsessive or put anyone on a pedestal as much again. Because I would do the same thing- wanting to make excuses to keep my own happiness. And that’s not ok.

I stopped following almost everyone overnight and stopped watching anything Dream-related cold turkey (<—I realize this probably sounds stupid but I genuinely watched so much dream stuff it was an actual change in my life). I’m still in the mcyt space, mostly hermitcraft, but I make sure that I never put anyone on a pedestal like that again, and I have a way healthier internet to real life ratio.

Coming out of that space genuinely felt like something I was grieving. The intensity of my emotions, both in it and coming out, wasn’t healthy, and I’m really glad I left. if I wasn’t faced with a situation where someone was potentially materially being hurt, I don’t know if it could have happened, I was so embroiled. For obvious reasons tho, that crossed a line and luckily on the other side I had people that were kind to me when I was still kinda reeling.

anyway, tldr, my hot take with this situation is that more dream fans wake up and realize he’s a piece of shit, and get grace and kindness while doing so. Sorry for how long this is- hopefully I get my point across that I genuinely believe that at least some dream fan spaces are intensely unhealthy, more than some people outside of them might consciously think

anon if I’m being honest with you this whole situation has me thinking a lot about this post from a while ago and at the moment, yes, it is frustrating seeing his fans deny the evidence right in front of them but I really can’t help but hold a level of sympathy for them

I was never really a hardcore dream stan but I was very adjacent to that community back when I still had Twitter and TikTok and spent a lot of time defending dream and his community whenever criticisms of him came up, I very much disliked the idea of calling dream stans a cult because I spent probably about 5 years or so of my life in stan communities on Twitter and I’m very much of the opinion that they get a bad rap, but it was around the time of his grooming allegations that I stopped defending him as well and came to understand what people meant when they called his community a cult

while I still don’t fully like using that word to describe his community because I know people who are survivors of cults and don’t want to downplay their severity, I will also say it’s alarming how easy it is to apply the BITE method to dream’s fanbase, especially information and thought control

that being said, even if it technically is not a cult it’s still a very intense community and it’s still difficult to get out of (speaking specifically on the way former dream stans are often bullied for leaving) and obviously the connection you’d have to such an intense community like that is going to be a serious emotional one so I understand why a lot of them might still be holding on

so I agree, I hope if fans of dream choose to leave his community they’re treated with grace and kindness

thank you for sharing, anon, I hope you’re doing well <3

[gatawoman]

Serenity of the Rain

Jason Todd x GN

Hiii guys, two things: 1st, this is my first time writing a story, and 2nd, I’m open to any suggestions or even if you guys want more :)

AN: Reader is a student at the University of Gotham who is trying to become a nurse and has known Jason since her childhood.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

Pit pat, pit pat. The sound of rain in Gotham is something that you have grown very much accustomed to hearing for as long as you can remember. That still doesn’t mean you aren’t annoyed with it, especially when you have an upcoming test in three days that you’re studying for.

A grunt leaves your lips as you find yourself distracted by every little sound your ears start picking up on: the sirens, the raindrops, the thunder—and your window being lifted up.

Your window being lifted up??

You drop your pen and slowly take the spiked bat Jason gave you as a joke (not really) as a late birthday gift and tiptoe your way to the living room. You see a tall figure entering your living room, and your arm winds up with all the strength you have to swing.

“Drop it. You should know by now it’s me,” Jason says with a hint of amusement.

“Yeah, well, in a city where people go around in makeup or masks with leotards either committing crimes or stopping them, you don’t want to take the gamble, do you?” you snap back, a bit annoyed. It’s not like you don’t want him here. To be honest, as much as you’d hate to say it out loud, having him around always gives you a sense of security and peace of mind. “What are you doing here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in space or something?”

“That was last week,” Jason says with an eyebrow raised. “C’mon, gorgeous. Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me,” he adds with a smirk.

The minute you’re about to retaliate, you notice something: his hand is holding onto his left side, his stance isn’t as straight, and the little wave of arrogance is replaced with a small, sharp inhale.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You rush to his side without hesitation, and all the annoyance you had leaves your mind, replaced by a blanket of concern.

“During a drug bust on Penguin’s goons, I got a tiny injury—nothing serious,” Jason replies as he slowly removes his hand from the delicate spot.

The minute his hand stops shielding the spot, you’re torn between yelling at him and punching him in the exact same place.

“Jason, a tiny injury is not a bullet wound!” you yell at him. “What’s going to happen if one day I’m not here and I can’t treat you? Who would you go to then? What would you do?” You feel bad, but you can’t help expressing your genuine concern and a bit of anger toward him. You and Jason have known each other since you were kids in Crime Alley. You’ve lost him before and can’t bear the thought of losing him again—or even not being there for him one day. The thought isn’t far-fetched; you live in Gotham, and you’re already proud you’ve made it this far without a freak-show incident happening to you.

And it’s like he can read your mind. His gloved hand reaches out to you. “Hey, look at me,” he says, holding your chin to make you look up at him. “Don’t you ever say that. I would never let anyone even touch a single hair on you, Y/N.” Jason’s voice, now serious and stern, somehow makes you even angrier.

You bite your tongue and guide him to the bathroom where you keep your first aid kit.

And you feel like you’re back to square one trying to concentrate on your work, this time on the needle you’re using to stitch up his wound. Your hands are shaky, and the room holds the noise of your uneven breath as you try to find a normal pattern. All you can think about is what if. What if you can’t be there for him one day? What if you lose him again? What if you never get the chance to say how you felt the minute his green eyes met yours in Crime Alley? It sometimes feels like you’re racing against time, but you’re losing. And, come on, you don’t even have any real combat knowledge—just some experience from street fights as a kid.

“Ouch.”

Your hand halts as you make eye contact with Jason.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Jay.” Great, you’ve caused the guy even more collateral damage.

“I’m joking. Just wanted to calm that little mind of yours. What’s going on in there, huh?” Jason’s eyes are filled with concern.

How do you even respond to that? Oh, nothing. You know, just thinking about how I might lose my best friend again without telling him I’m deeply in love with him. Totally normal. Yeah, no. Instead, you go with your go-to answer in these scenarios:

“Nothing’s going on. I’m just tired, Jay,” you say in the most neutral tone you can muster.

“Now you know, Y/N, I can tell when you’re lying,” Jason replies, his voice soft and delicate.

As you start putting your equipment away, you can’t help the annoying feeling of your chest becoming heavier and your eyes stinging as you fight tears. And it’s like he senses the shift in your emotions. Two strong arms wrap around you.

Silence takes over the room as your tears seep into Jason’s t-shirt. Not that you cry often, but when you do, you’ve always preferred silent comfort over being bombarded with questions. Jason knows that by now, and that’s what he gives you—a comforting silence, his actions showing you that he’s there.

You and Jason stand there for about five minutes. The tears start to dry, and your breathing returns to normal. You feel his rough thumb wipe your eyes.

“I’m not going to rush you to tell me what’s wrong, Y/N. I just want to know if I’m making it worse by being here right now,” Jason says.

“Don’t even think about leaving, Todd,” you reply, trying to lighten the mood by using his last name. Key word: try, but Jason knows you too well. He catches the hint of sadness in your voice.

A yawn escapes your mouth, the exhaustion of studying, overthinking, and crying draining you completely.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Jason says, scooping you up so suddenly you don’t have time to argue.

As your shoulders slump and he carries you to your room, your eyes grow heavy. You feel his arms dip, replaced by the softness of your comforter.

Just as Jason starts to leave, your hand shoots up, grabbing his.

“Stay,” you murmur before you can process what you’re asking for.

There’s a pause, then the bed dips as Jason lies down beside you. You don’t know if you imagine it, but you could swear you hear him say, “Always.”

The rhythm of his heartbeat mixes with the rain outside—a sound that, earlier, annoyed you but now brings a peace you haven’t felt in a long time. As sleep claims you, the fleeting thought crosses your mind: maybe he already knows how you feel.

[doe-eyed-disaster]

Reading the new Vulture article about Neil Gaiman's serial sexual abuse (and Amanda Palmer's complicity) has shaken me, maybe most viscerally in the way it describes the weird kind of normal that victims so often have to construct.

Many survivors of sexual violence do not process their experience as such, not at first. I was one of them. It's such a shock to the system that lots of us kind of just... erase it? Like the tape is fuzzy there or the file got corrupted or the footage is just abruptly missing for that stretch of time. You just go on and don't really account for that lost time.

I got changed and threw out the clothes I'd been wearing in a dumpster, came back to the room, and woke the rest of the band up to start loading the trailer so we could get to the next show. One of the men in that room had raped me only a few hours earlier.

One of my band mates was having marriage trouble and asked us, his friends and me, for advice. I gave him genuinely good insight and helped navigate a tough moment in the relationship. He had raped me less than 12 hours previously.

We played a show with some artists I looked up to. I was in the green room with them and him. He saw how excited I was to be talking to these people and started talking me up as a musician to them. He had raped me only a few weeks prior.

Who do you tell? Who can you tell? Who will believe you? Who will do something, anything, to help you? I wasn't talking to my family. I didn't have other friends. I didn't know anyone in the scene. I wasn't thinking explicitly in those terms, but they lurked in the back of my head, the kinds of things that redirect you out of any critical analysis.

Lots of things went unexamined: why I'd thrown those clothes out; why I was bleeding and bruised the next day; why I was still nursing those injuries weeks later. That sort of thing. I didn't think to wonder why I didn't like to let him out of my sight when we hang out. I didn't pay any mind to how I'd get so anxious that I could barely breathe if he walked behind me or between me and a door. I couldn't bear to think precisely *whose* hands I kept feeling around my waist and neck when I woke up in a panic.

And you just keep on with that fractured kind of normal for as long as it takes, every day that you can't admit it adding interest to the emotional devastation. You wonder sometimes "am I crazy? I must be. Normal people don't feel that way." You deflect when the conversation veers too close. You feel afraid to label your experience *that* way because really it wasn't all that bad and I'm just exaggerating like I do.

And then one day you can't keep up the facade. Something slips. Someone sees something you didn't want them to. Someone comments and then doesn't buy the deflection. The details are different every time for every person, but two things are always true:

* you're gonna grieve hideously for the hideous thing that was done to you

* you're gonna have to deal with the thought that no one might ever believe you

It's a power thing. He had the power to do that to you. To me. To her. To them. That's what made you vulnerable. He wasn't suave or seductive or darkly brilliant. He was just stronger than you, more powerful. That's what keeps you quiet. He'll be able to shut the conversation down, deflect and move on, label you a libellous slut and call it a day with no more inconvenience than wiping off his shoes. He'll have friends that help him find his marks, who make him opportunities. He'll toss you right out and not think twice about doing it. My guy got to do it to me once, and it took everything in me to manage to keep it from happening again without *looking* like that's what I was doing. Sometimes though, when they're rich and powerful, they just get to keep doing and doing and doing. Dozens of times to dozens of women, every one of them living the same fractured reality that I and so many others have woken up into.

If you're reading the accusations against Neil Gaiman and wondering how it went on so long and so far, that's the whole equation: powerful men surrounded by enablers, living in a culture that sees their trauma as fodder for literary awards and ours as something so inconvenient to consider that it's easier to leave us all alone with nothing to console the sense that, even though you can't quite remember it, something terrible happened right where the tape skips.

[eldizzle69]

“thinking their crush likes someone else”

masterlist

including :: Hotarubi

—Subaru Kagami

•genuinely heartbroken

•like I see him letting his thoughts get the better of him and telling him he was never good enough anyways.

•he might unconsciously avoid you, like he doesn’t mean to it just kinda happens.

•might look a little gloomy when your around.

•pls make it abundantly obvious you life him he would be so sad.

“Subaru can I ask you a… uh question I guess?” You spoke finally, and your words visibly caught the Hotarubi captain off guard. He gave a nervous nod to your question.

“Have I upset you?…”

“What?” His response was immediate, his eyes panicked. “N-not at all! Why would you think that?” casting his gaze down, he knew why.

“You’re avoiding me,” you said sternly and Subaru sputtered, “if I’ve upset you just tell me why….please?”

There was a long stretch of silence after that. Neither of you said a single thing, and Subaru refused to meet your gaze what so ever. So, you took that as his answer. Bitting your lip you lifted yourself from your seat and went to leave. You were into a few steps into leaving when a gentle hand frantically reached out and grabbed your own.

“I-I’m sorry,” Subaru said with a red face. Quickly he let go of your hand. Then the two of you were engulfed into more silence as Subaru collected his words.

“I like you…,” he said after a moment, with red ears. “A-and I know you like that guy from your anomaly law class but—“

“Why would I like him?” You cut him off, arms crossed. Subaru looked at you suprised and stumbled over his words, “w-well— you—“

“Subaru,” you said pulling him from his s rambled thoughts. Plopping down in front of him, to be eye to eye with him, you couldn’t help but grin. “The one I like is you Subaru.”

—Haku Kusanagi

•a little disappointed, but doesn’t let it affect him

•the way he treats you never changes, he’ll never lead on to being disappointed

•I don’t see him acting or doing much different than he normally does really.

•he still seeks you out to make sure your okay

•he’s just Haku, and that won’t change no matter how you feel about him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The voice came out of no where, but the familiarity was comforting. Looking up at Haku you sighed and leaned back in the bench. You shook your head and closed your eyes for a moment. When you opened them again Haku was standing right in front of you.

“Well, clearly something is bothering you,” he hummed, crouching down in front of you, “you sure you can’t tell me what’s wrong?”

After a moment of silence you opened your mouth, “…there’s this guy I like…”

You didn’t catch it. It was a brief flash of disappointment that went over his features before he went back to his usual expression.

“Hey, what’s with that expression,” he hummed noting the almost sad look on your face.

“He just…… doesn’t seem to nice my advances..” you admitted defeatedly, fight off a strong blush. Haku hummed and placed a gently hand on your knee. “Well… you can’t make people like you back, but If anything that guys missing out.”

You only shook your head, “not really…”.

“Ah don’t say thattttt,” he said drawing out the last letter. Still kneeling down he gave your knee a pat, “seriously the guys gotta be lucky to have you running after him.”

“Well, do you consider yourself lucky Haku?” You murmured out quietly. Looking up from his hand resting in your knee you notes to shocked look on his face. He didn’t say anything and you bit your lip, “sorry… I’ll just go—“

“I consider myself extremely lucky, now that is,” he hummed not letting you finish. The grin in his face said what you needed to know.

—Zenji Kotodama

•This is so sad Siri play despacito

•definitely going to write sad songs on his biwa about his heartbreak.

•but despite how expressive he is, I see him hiding his heartache AND his crush.

•he knows he’s dead, and he also knows that, if you did like him back, it would be kind of tragic.

•he can’t help but think, if he were alive, could it ever be him?

The gently strum of Zenji’s biwa was the only sound heard in the deck of the Hotarubi pond. There was an odd sense of sadness etched in every note, something unusual of the musician.

“Why the sad song?” Your hummed glancing at the ghost from your spot laid out on the deck.

“Heartbreak is simply beautiful,” he said, his face plastered with a smile nonetheless. You quirked a brow and sat up from your laying position.

“And who exactly is getting their heartbroken?” You hummed, looking for the source of his inspiration. You had been around Zenji long enough to tell what he’s feeling, and you had the hunch this heartbreak was personal.

“No one dear,” he said simply, still strumming his instrument, “a simple thought has clouded my mind.”

“Or a simple someone,” you said your tone accusatory as you shuffled to sit directly next to him. His fingers paused for a moment, the area around you two falling still with silence.

“Might….i ask you a question?” Zenji said after some seconds. He didn’t look your way and his normal grin was nowhere to be seen. You gave a soft nod of approval. “If I were alive, would you ever choose me as a lover?”

The question made you pause, silence once again enveloped the two of you as you sat there wide eyed.

“Ah I see…,” Zenji spoke quietly, his fingers resuming their strumming. Zenji could accept this, he had accepted it for a long time. What he wasn’t expecting was for something—rather someone— to fly through him.

A thump drew his attention as he glanced over to see you lying face first on the deck. “[Na-name]!” He called with concern and you only peaked at him.

“You were always the first option Zenji.”

[sunnydayaoe]

augh as someone who loves drawing physically close "pairings" that aren't couples i get this SO OFTEN. it sucks as an aro person to show my experiences in qprs for instance, and people thinking it's romantic because sometimes I draw cuddling. fandom is so amatonormative it's absurd

god yeah. specifically as someone who is actively romance repulsed it gets so bad. I'll draw things that represent me or my experiences and than people will interpret it as romantic and it will make me actively feel nauseous and so angry I start having trouble breathing. I just... I'm so tired.

Its also just that... I genuinly think that there is no type of interaction that is soley romantic/can't be interpreted as platonic. like really genuinely two guys can be having active sex and I could read that as platonic. there is no boarder to me, but I Can't draw art exploring that because I know it just... won't be read like that. it makes me so sad.

like... one of the main duos I like drawing, I want to draw them doing even more than I already do. I want to draw them kissing, doing more... other things. Being close, being affectionate, doing things that people don't normally do with others when they're not in a romantic relationship, but I don't. because the things I Thought would be considered "platonic" are already inundated with people calling it shipping.

[earthlyangelbby]

Cupid's Curveball

Chapter 1: The Silas Situation

1.7k words

Sfw

Summary: A normal hangout takes a turn when you confess you've never had a Valentine and your lack of a date to the Cupid's Ball. Which isn't really Eddie’s scene, but he's very interested in who exactly you want to go with. He gets his answer and while suspicious he decides to help you get the date.

Authors Note: This is set 1986 if Eddie just got to be a normal senior. He's 19, and you're 18 both seniors.

February 7th 1986

Here you were, sitting crisscross applesauce on Eddie’s bedroom floor. The room was dim, with a warm haze hanging in the air, the faint smell of incense mixing with something sharper,  you thought it was the lingering trace of Eddie’s cologne. His walls were covered in band posters and random doodles he’d tacked up, each one so him it made your chest ache. But despite the familiar comfort of the room, you weren’t feeling your typical light and giggly self.

You glanced up at Eddie, lounging on his bed like he didn’t have a care in the world. His curls framed his face, and for a second, you thought about how good his jawline looked from this angle.

“Is this new or something I’ve had before?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

Eddie’s lips trilled like a horse's, and his dark eyes shifted up as if searching the ceiling for an answer. “Uhhh, yeah, this is the same stuff I picked up from Rick like two weeks ago.” He glanced down at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Why? Are you not feeling it?”

You shook your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “No, I’m definitely feeling it.”

He didn’t look convinced. His lips pressed into a line before he asked, “What’s up then? You’re not giggly like you usually are.”

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek. It felt stupid to say out loud, but the weight of the thought sat heavy on your chest. Finally, you let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I don’t know. I just kinda feel sad... It’s something stupid.”

Eddie’s expression softened, his usual cocky smirk replaced by genuine concern. He scooched closer, leaning down toward you on the floor. His big, brown eyes met yours, and for a moment, your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat. You weren’t sure if it was the haze or just him, but you felt... safe.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “You can tell me.”

You leaned back on your hands, feeling the soft surface of the carpet against your palms. Throwing your head back, you shut your eyes, hoping the words would sound less ridiculous when you said them aloud. “I’m bummed because I’ve never had a valentine, and I really want one. But that kind of thing is stupid, right? Corporate Hallmark crap, blah blah blah. And no one’s asked me to the Cupid’s Ball yet.” The words spilled out in a rush, followed by a sigh of relief.

Eddie straightened, his eyebrows lifting. He grabbed your shoulders gently, forcing you to sit up and meet his gaze. His touch was firm, but not overbearing, and you couldn’t ignore the warmth of his hands through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Hey,” he said, his tone low but earnest. “Just because I think it’s all corporate crap doesn’t mean you have to. I can still listen when you talk about stuff. If it means something to you, it means something. Okay?”

He’s saying stuff like, "If it means something to you, it means something." Ugh, stop being so understanding, Eddie! It’s bad enough that I can’t stop thinking about how your hands felt, and now you’re making me think about… other things. Like what it would be like to actually go to that dance with you. Would you spin me around or just sit in a corner, cracking jokes to make me laugh? Ugh, stop it. He doesn’t see me like that. Right? 

You nodded, a little embarrassed now because the way his hands lingered made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t fully understand—or maybe didn’t want to admit.

Eddie let go and sat crisscross in front of you, leaning back against his bed. His movements were casual, but you thought you caught the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away for a second before speaking. “Just ask someone to the Cupid’s Ball or whatever.”

“I can’t,” you huffed out, crossing your arms in frustration.

“Why not?” His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head in confusion.

You pouted, avoiding his gaze. “The guy is supposed to ask.”

Eddie frowned, and a silence fell between you. He was quiet for a beat too long, and you wondered what was going through his mind. Was he going to say something sarcastic? Was he judging you? Why did she have to look so cute? That little furrow in her brow makes me want to reach out and smooth them away. Is this what liking someone feels like? It’s not like I’ve never noticed her before. I definitely have. But right now she’s sitting there on my floor in my room, and her voice is so soft it’s messing with my head. I could offer to take her to the dance... No, that’s stupid. If she wanted me to, she wouldn’t be upset about it in the first place.

Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his weight a little. “Okay, so what if we come up with a plan?”

You frowned, confused. “A plan for what?”

“For you to ask this guy to the dance.” He shrugged casually, trying to ignore the pang in his chest as he said it. “I mean, screw tradition. If you want to go with him, just ask him.”

You bit your lip, unsure. “I don’t know, Eddie. What if he says no?”

Eddie leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Then he’s an idiot, and we’ll find someone else to go with you. But seriously, I’ll help you figure out how to ask. It doesn’t have to be some big deal.”

Why does he have to be so sweet? The way he’s leaning in and actually trying to help makes my heart flutter, and I don’t know how to stop it. Is he really just being a good friend, or is this something more? I wish I knew, but I can’t bring myself to ask.

“Okay,” you said softly, feeling your cheeks warm. “What do we do first?”

Eddie grinned, his confidence returning. “First, we figure out what this guy likes. Then we make it impossible for him to say no.

Why does this feel like a punch to the gut? She’s sitting here talking about some guy she likes, and all I can think about is how much I wish it was me. Maybe it’s stupid, but I need to know who it is—it’s like I can’t help myself.  

Eddie tilted his head, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Alright, before we-, you gotta tell me…. Who is this guy, anyway?”  

Panic overtook your body and the only name you could think of was Edward Silas Munson. On repeat in your stupid lovesick brain. “Uh, his name is Silas.” 

Silas? Who the hell is Silas? And why does that name sound familiar? Wait—hold on. That’s my middle name. Is she messing with me?

Eddie blinked, his smirk faltering slightly as he processed what you said. “Silas?” he repeated, tilting his head like he was trying to put the pieces together. “So, uh… where’d you meet this guy?”

 Crap, why did I say that? His middle name was the first thing that came to mind, and now I have to sell this. Keep it together!

“At my volunteer thing,” you said quickly, smoothing your hands over your jeans. “You know, the animal shelter I go to on Sundays? He’s there sometimes, helping out.”

Eddie’s eyebrows lifted, suspicion flickering in his dark eyes. “Oh, yeah? A guy named Silas, who works with animals? That’s… cool. What else is he into?”

 Why is he asking so many questions? Does he think I’m lying? Oh God, what if he figures it out?

“Um, well… he plays guitar. And he’s into metal,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Really cool guy. Super chill.”

A guy named Silas who plays guitar, loves metal, and works at an animal shelter? That sounds an awful lot like… me. Is she messing with me, or is this some kind of hint? Either way, it’s messing with my head. Maybe not everything is about you Munson. 

Eddie leaned back, crossing his arms, his expression unreadable. “Sounds like a solid dude,” he said, though his voice was quieter than usual. “You want me to help you figure out how to ask him to the dance?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, avoiding his gaze. “That would be… nice.”

Eddie gave a small nod, though his mind raced. “Alright, let’s figure this out,” he said, his tone low and a little hesitant. “We’ll make sure Silas can’t say no.”

Your heart thudded out of your chest. “How are we gonna do that?” 

Eddie looked up at you, “Give me tonight to think about it. Tomorrow we start, sweetheart.”

The sound of the clock ticking on Eddie’s wall caught your attention, and you glanced at the time. Your eyes widened slightly. “Oh, crap,” you murmured, pushing yourself up off the floor. “It’s almost 11. curfew.”

Eddie stood, stretching lazily before grabbing his keys from the dresser. “Alright, I’ll get you home, princess,” he said with a grin, motioning for you to follow him.

The drive was quiet at first, the soft hum of the van filling the space. Eddie tapped his fingers on the wheel, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “So,” he said casually, breaking the silence, “this Silas guy… he better not flake on you for that dance.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Why do you keep bringing him up?”

Eddie smirked, shrugging one shoulder. “Just saying. A girl like you deserves someone who’ll show up, make it a good time, you know? And if he doesn’t, well… I might have to have a word with him.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said with a lopsided grin, his eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road. “But you still hang out with me. So what does that say about you?”

The warmth in his tone made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t fully understand. As he pulled up in front of your house, you lingered for a moment, fingers brushing the strap of your bag. “Thanks for the ride,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Eddie replied, his voice gentle but teasing, as though he didn’t want the moment to end either. “See you tomorrow. Rest up. Big plans to make.”

You nodded, stepping out into the cool night air with a heart that felt heavier and lighter all at once.

Thanks for reading :)

I hope you kicked your feet and twirled your hair while reading this chapter

I have a lot of ideas for this series! Let me know what you think

[hockeyboistrash]

so i first got this idea when he got traded to the flyers but it has recently popped back into my head so i guess i'm writing it.

saying goodbye to Jamie as he packs to go to philidelphia

"He's in his room." Trevor told you the moment he opened the door. He knew why you were here, so there was no need for any small talk. You sent him an appreciative smile, one that didn't meet your eyes, as a way to say thank you before heading to Jamie's room. It was a route you knew well, often the final destination of your visits to Trevor's and Jamie's apartment. It felt longer this time though. There was no need to rush when what's behind that door is Jamie packing up his life in Anaheim to move 2,702 miles across the country.

Your knock was soft but so was Jamie's voice through the door. He had multiple suitcases sprawled open around the room, each with various clothes and belongings. "Thought you could use some help." You said, looking at Jamie with a sad smile.

"I was never the best at packing." Jamie laughed. It wasn't full of joy but rather pain. All the times you helped him pack before a roadie flooding back to him. If he knew the roadie before Christmas on the East coast was the last time he would've treasured it more. It wasn't that you packed for him but rather it was something you did together.

You wordlessly picked up a t-shirt and started folding it before handing it to Jamie to put in his suitcase. It continued like this for a few minutes, the silence killing him. He didn't know what to say though. There was so much he wanted to say but not enough time.

"When do you fly out?" You asked, breaking the silence.

"Tonight." Jamie told you. You could feel your heart break. You knew these moves were quick but you were secretly hoping you had more time with him. "I'm sorry, Y/N." He said, dropping the shorts he was holding and cupping your cheek, wiping away the stray tear that fell.

"It's not your fault." You tried assuring him but you could see the guilt written all over his face. He blames himself for something that was out of his control. "Yes it fucking sucks and I'm going to miss you like crazy but you're not going to get rid of me that easily Drysdale. Phones exist and you'll come back to play games on the west coast. Not to mention it's a five hour flight. I'll still be right here for you. I'm not going anyway Jamie."

Jamie didn't say anything, not wanting his voice to fail him, so he wrapped his arms around you wanting to memorise the way you felt in his arms, not knowing when the next time would be. You laid your head on his chest, listening to his heart rate, the sound comforting you. The two of you stayed like that in each other's arms until it was time for Jamie to go.

"Sorry to interrupt but the car is here." Trevor said, popping his head around the door. He genuinely sounded sorry for interrupting. Normally, he enjoyed being a nuisance to you both, teasing you about your feelings for each other.

You looked up at Jamie, trying to fight the tears that were threatening to fall. "Before you go I got you something." You told him, going to your bag that you dropped on the floor. "I didn't know if you had your winter clothes here so I brought you this scarf. Philly is going to be colder than Anaheim and I can't have you getting ill the moment you step off the plane." You wrapped the scarf around Jamie's neck. You smoothed it down, your hands stopping to rest on his chest.

"Thank you, Y/N." Jamie said, placing his hand over yours. Those three words holding so much emotion. Not only was he thanking you for today but for the past 4 years, for being there for him through everything, the highs and lows. He's not certain what the future will hold for you both. The one thing he was sure on is that he will miss you in Philidelphia.

[soultraveler444]

Shifting success story!!!

For context, like most shifters, I had discovered shifting through 2020 shiftok.

I have attempted to shift before, although the most I felt were symptoms. Soon after that I had given up on shifting entirely because I hadn’t succeeded and had completely forgotten about it until December 2023.

I was reintroduced to it because I had seen a tiktok of @alissabellus, in which she had mentioned law of assumption and how it can be applied to shifting.

This tiktok was what started it for me again. I looked into not only shifting but manifestation. I looked into Neville Goddard, read the Reddit and amino posts, did Reya’s mind reprogramming, etc. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a Capricorn although I’m a very determined (or stubborn) person, and I remember not giving up in the slightest despite not seeing any success in the 3D, because I knew that the physical didn’t matter, and all that I had to focus on was the 4D.

I not only focused on shifting every night, I also focused on my mindset, and with LOA I truly immersed in feeling like and being a master shifter. I can remember affirming to myself whenever I had doubts that I was a master shifter and that I shifted every night.

(Now you truly do not need to put in this much effort, although I believed at the time that that much work was what it would get me to shift.)

All of this happened in the month of December.

Now it was January 2024.

I believe I was home from school that day because of a stomachache.

(Which is an extra detail that has nothing to do with this but I like to be extra ok.)

I decided to take a nap, and literally the only thing I did was affirm once that I was in my marvel DR. I fell asleep and I woke up there. It genuinely was one of the easiest things I’ve ever done. It still blows my mind to this day.

NOW THE FUN PART. My DR!!!!

I used AI to find a way to recreate what my bedroom looks like in my DR, but it still doesn’t look like it perfectly. Although you have an idea of what it looks like

Waking up here was the most confusing but calming feeling ever. It was confusing because what the hell am I doing here, although it felt calming too because it felt normal to me to be there. I had scripted beforehand that ‘it’s been a long, long time’ would be playing in the background (if you know, you know), which I could hear playing.

My cat, Liho, was sleeping next to me.

And I just remember that it took me a couple of seconds to truly process where I was before it hit that I had succeeded.

THE BLISSFUL FEELING I GOT OH MY GOD.

I literally was the happiest girl ever.

I remember looking at my WALK IN CLOSET and just stare at all the cool clothes I own like what the freak where did all of these come from.

It was such a life changing experience.

I don’t really know why I’m sharing my story. Hopefully it’s to provide some motivation to whom is reading this. I’d like to say that shifting was one of the easiest things I’ve ever done, however; I understand that many shifters, especially those in the community who have been struggling for 5 years can feel exasperated hearing this. So I’ll just end it here.

I’ve had tumblr for a couple of months but I still don’t know how the app works😭.

So please be patient with me while I figure everything out. I’m thinking about doing more posts about some thoughts I have on shifting and LOA because I have many things to yap about when it comes to shifting.

Happy shifting!

[district4loading]

In The Morning (WLW)

Gidle Minnie!Sub x Female Reader!Dom

3K Words

Content Warning: Smut, fluff

Minors DNI

A/N: I made this request short, simple, fluffy and straight to the point. Please enjoy!!

I enjoyed writing this one because it was sooo cute. I also really liked Minnies solo song that came out a few days ago and i'm excited for the album!!!

The Request: "heyyyy not sure if ure in such stage to consider writing for gidle’s minnie but if u are, can i request soft morning sex with top fem reader"

-

You're not done with her yet though, how could you ever be? 

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You're not a morning person.

Or at least you weren't, until you started living with her. The girl of your dreams, Nicha Yontararak—Minnie for short. Being with her has changed you in many different ways but the most notable shift has been how you've come to love the mornings. 

It wasn't some big revelation that got you there, nor was it a sudden change of heart. It was Minnie. Waking up to see her beautiful—nearly perfect—face sleeping peacefully next to you has become your most favorite thing. It was almost like a guilty pleasure of yours to just watch silently as she slept. You usually woke up early around six and normally you'd go right back to sleep because there was never any good reason to stay up. 

Now there was.

You're doing it again, watching her sleep. It's a little bit earlier, maybe five-thirty-ish and the sun's just barely peaking out above the horizon. Just enough so you can see her face clearly in the light peering through the curtains. You find yourself smiling, silently wondering how on earth you ever got so lucky. To have someone so stunning in your bed, breathing slowly and softly in her slumber. 

There's this thing you do often when mornings like these come, sometimes you reach your hand out to caress her soft cheek ever so slightly and sure not to wake her. It's cause you need to make sure she's real, that this isn't some crazy lucid dream you're living in. Which might seem silly to any ordinary person but when you admire someone this much, a lot of the things you do become a bit illogical.

This time, you let yourself get a little too carried away and you end up dragging your fingertips along her jawline. In that same second you regret it because she takes a deep breath and then her eyes open. She blinks a bit, moving to wipe the sleep out of her eyes as she stretches her legs "Good morning pretty girl" She says it with her hoarse morning voice and you can't control the smile that spreads across your face when you hear it.

"Good morning beautiful, go back to sleep I didn't mean to wake you" You mutter, wanting to watch her some more.

"Were you watching me sleep again?" She grins, looking at you like you're the only girl in the world, just pure adoration in her eyes along with that genuine smile of hers. 

"Maybe" You shrug "You should go back to sleep"

Minnie turns her head to look at the digital clock

Five-Fifty PM

"You know.." She mutters, getting up to straddle your hips so you're forced to go from laying on your side to laying on your back, looking up into her eyes. "You can still admire me while I'm awake" She winks, her tone suggestive. 

Before you even get the chance to tell her how cute you thought her little wink was, she leans down and connects your lips. Everything immediately goes slow motion when you feel her plump lips on yours. She kisses you slowly and thoroughly, with a sort of heated passion and no hesitation to stick her tongue in your mouth.

You don't mind it at all, you could make out with Minnie forever. She hums softly, cupping both of your cheeks with her slender hands, fingers pressing deeply into your skin. "I love you" You pant, when she pulls away.

"I love you more, baby" She leaves a peck on your lips before she sits up. You hadn't even noticed that your hands had gravitated to her waist until you saw that she was pulling her tank top off.

"Babe, it's five in the morning" You nod your head to the clock as her top falls somewhere to the side of the bed. 

Her breasts come free and you can't help but stare at how perfect they look in the warm sunlight. "Six" She corrects, tugging at your t-shirt. You smirk, then you lift yourself up to take it off and you're only left in your bra and a pair of shorts. 

You sit up, positioning Minnie perfectly in your lap "Morning sex it is then" You mutter, pecking her lips, then her cheek and all the way to her jawline. You litter your kisses everywhere, slowly down to her neck where you leave a few red marks. She moans softly, and it's like music to your ears, something only you have the privilege of hearing.

When you make it to her collarbone, your left hand comes up to massage her right breast, you cup and massage the soft flesh because it fits so perfectly in your hand. "Babe" She whines when you dip your head down to take her left nipple between your lips. You spend some time there just worshipping her perfect tits. You hum, letting your tongue circle around her areola, then you flick it over the sensitive bud once then twice. "Please"

"Please what princess?" You don't just call her that, you genuinely believe it. Maybe in some other life or in an alternate universe she's royalty and somehow by the grace of God in this life you managed to pull her. 

Your hand slides down her shorts and underneath her panties, like you expected, she's soaked. "Just—Yes!" She moans and you didn't even do much, you really only put a little pressure and her hips are already bucking into yours. 

"Help me get these off" You mutter softly as you pull on her bottoms because you need her flawless body fully naked for you. She nods when you slip your other hand out of her shorts and she shuffles a bit to get them off. When she's ready, she sits back down on your lap and she hovers a bit. You slide your hand down her silky smooth waist and between her legs to palm her cunt. "What do you want?"

The question slips off your tongue so gently as you kiss along her shoulders. You breathe in and out audibly, taking in her delightful natural scent. "Ah—fuck" She whimpers, hips jutting forwards when you slowly rub your hand in circles. You do it on purpose so you can hear her struggling as she begs you to do something to her. "I want... I want your fingers inside... pl-please" 

You lick over the now purple marks on Minnie's neck "I think I wanna watch you ride my fingers, darling" You sigh, sliding two fingers up and down her drenched slit. "You'll do that for me, yeah?"

She nods frantically, hips moving on their own as you tease her. It doesn't last long though, because you slip the two fingers in so easy into her tight, wet warmth and she doesn't waste time to get them as deep as they can go when she closes the gap. There's a pleasureful sigh that escapes her lips when she feels the stretch of your digits and you pull your head back so you can watch the full show. "Go ahead princess, show me" You encourage. 

Minnie has to first get a good grip on your shoulders, then she rolls her hips forwards and a choked moan escapes her lips. "Fuck" she curses, then she continues, getting herself in a good rhythm. You watch almost in awe as she tires her best to get off on your fingers. Her petite breasts bounce with each movement of her hips, you watch in real time as she begins to break a sweat, her skin becoming sleek as it shines in the sunlight.

The view is just perfect, you can only hold her waist with your free hand lightly, not guiding her because she knows what she's doing. Her facial expressions are the best, the way her brows furrow, how she goes from letting her mouth hang open to biting her bottom lip as a way to try and control every sweet sound that escapes her lips. "You're doing so well baby" You just watch, almost mesmerized as you stare into each others eyes. "So fucking pretty.." You're almost at a loss for any other words.

You can hear it now, how wet you have her on each drag up and down. It's a little quieter than her moans and whimpers so you reach your hand up, finger over her mouth "Shh, listen" She holds in whatever she's able to and you can hear it clearer now "You hear how wet you are for me babe?" You ask, she only nods her head, unable to say any other words because it feels too good.

She starts clenching because she gets off on that, hearing the sounds of her own arousal and how sloppy you've got her. You end up moving your finger from her lips and you just stare into her begging eyes. "So beautiful.. I love you"

"I- I love you too" She says before leaning into your body. You allow her to bury her face into your neck, her legs nearly trembling with each roll of her hips "I-It feels sooo good" She moans, her eyes clamping shut.

"I know baby" You assure, rubbing her back in slow circles, "Such a good girl for me, you deserve everything" You kiss her shoulder, tasting the sweat she's built up there. 

"I'm close" She whimpers and you begin to help her, fucking your fingers into her throbbing cunt to meet her hips. She keeps moving, her hips fast and her moans going higher and higher in pitch. She's right there "Please... can I?" She asks you as if you could ever tell her no when she's been so good for you and she's whimpering in your ear with that pretty voice of hers.

"Cum whenever you want" You nod, then almost immediately a strangled moan forces it's way through her throat then she goes silent. You keep fucking her as her hips begin to move messily in their own way, stuttering and stopping back and forth. "There you go" You grunt, feeling your arm begin to burn as she begins to choke on her own words. Then she begins moaning again, so beautifully as she works through her orgasm.

"Thank you" She pants, swallowing thickly as she allows her bodyweight to rest on you. You slip your fingers out of her cunt, then you hold her running your other hand through her damp hair.

You're not done with her yet though, how could you ever be? 

When she's caught her breath, you turn her over so she's on her back, looking up at you with her tired eyes. She hums as you get yourself between her legs "You did such a good job, babe" You kiss her lips, but this time she struggles with kissing back. You don't mind it though, you only move to her neck "Need to taste you" You mutter, shuffling your way down so that your head is between her legs.

"Yes please" She bites her lip, then she props herself up on her elbows to make eye-contact. She's staring at you like she wants it so bad and she doesn't even need to tell you because you know how to read her.

You know her

When you're face to face with it, you hold back your urge to just go for it right then and there. First you wrap your hands around each of her thighs. They're so plump and perfect. You squeeze, letting your fingers press against her warm flesh. Minnie whimpers, carefully following you with her eyes. 

You keep the eye contact, slowly moving your head to the left, attaching your mouth to her inner thigh. First you lick it, then you kiss it and you begin sucking and biting on the supple flesh. You end up leaving more marks scattered there before you move on to the next thigh but it's more than just teasing to you. When you leave all these wonderful blemishes on her body, it's like you're leaving a reminder. Every time she sees herself in the mirror, she'll see those wonderful red and purple marks and she'll think about you and the way you made her feel.

After spending so much time leaving hickeys on Minnie's body, she's just about ready for you to get started. She's stayed silent this whole time though, allowing you to have your way as she waits patiently for you to get to where she needed you the most. You note that her eyes are glossed over and it's telling that she needs you so badly that she can't even put it into words.

So when you stick your tongue out and you flatten it on her clit she gasps, then chokes "Thank you" A meek whimper follows her surprise. "Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you" She repeats over again because she's so grateful to finally have your mouth where she's needed it for the past few minutes. 

You hum in response, sending vibrations through her body as you start lapping up all the wetness on her cunt. The taste is pungent, a perfect balance of sweet and salty and you've become almost addicted to it by now. Her hips squirm cause maybe she's a little too sensitive for this right now but you hold her down, shoving your face deeper as you lick her up. "Fuck babyyy" She whines, dragging out the last word "So good" She throws her head back a moment allowing you to see the perfect curve of her neck, littered with the marks you left earlier.

Minnie's a complete mess right now, hair messy, body all flushed and sweaty while her face contorts several different ways with each damning flick of your tongue. "God" She almost groans, biting her own tongue when you take her swollen clit in between your lips. You start sucking, putting your jaw to good use as she blabs praises of how good you're doing.

"I fucking love you" Her back arches, then falls in the same instance. So sensitive—you think to yourself bringing your fingers up to slip them inside of her without warning. "Fuck!" She moans, legs threatening to shut when she feels the familiar stretch of your slender fingers curling so deep inside of her. "Come here!" She pleads, moans becoming louder and more frantic.

You pull your mouth off of her, fingers still buried in her cunt as you move up to latch your lips onto hers. She pulls your body onto yours and she kisses you deeply, eyes closed as you take her to cloud nine "I... love... you" You murmur onto her lips as you pound your fingers into her. She's close already and you're more than ready to take her over the edge.

Minnie breaks the kiss "Baby.. I-I'm" She warns.

"Yeah, cum for me again babe" You nod, then a loud almost scream-like moan tears through her lips.

"Oh my god!" She cries, most likely disturbing the neighbors on this eventful morning. You could really care less though because you're doing what you were made to do. Your duty in life, its never been so clear—to satisfy this perfect woman under you. To make her happier than ever, to make her scream your name as she cums for you over and over again. No doubt she'll do it again tomorrow, and the day after that.

(and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that, until there aren't any more days left)

She wraps her arms tightly around you as you slow your fingers to a stop. You slip them out, then you bring them to her lips. Her eyes are shut because she's in this state of utter bliss but she still parts those perfect lips of hers to take your digits into her mouth. Her tongue licks off every bit of slick it was coated in. Then you pull them out and you kiss her lips. "Good morning to me" She mutters with a deep breath.

"Maybe we should go back to sleep, I don't wanna move" She whines the last part, holding you close to her when she feels you about to move 

"Yeah, we can start the day later... maybe at two" You yawn

Minnie giggles "Not that late"

"Come on, you know i'm not a morning person"

[thefadecodex]

Okokok I have an IDEA

So in the DATV concept art book Imshael was considered as a possible companion

Imshael claims to be a choice spirit and hates it when people imply he/they are a desire demon. And yet he seems to love the Intense stress frustration and suffering that comes with difficult choices.

I was thinking of whether or not an ancient spirit/demon like him would be able to evolve further. Maybe even grow into a form that's less corrupted depending on those that surround him?

What are your thoughts on Imshael ? How do you think having Imshael as a companion would've gone? I would've loved having them as a companion!

Greetings, seeker of veiled truths!

What a fascinating question—and what an incredible idea for a potential companion! Let’s dive into it.

While people in Thedas frequently refer to Imshael as a desire demon, it’s worth noting that he himself rejects this label. The Fade Codex theorizes that Imshael may not be corrupted at all. Instead, they could genuinely be a Choice Spirit—a being acting within the bounds of its purpose: facilitating and reveling in the complexity of difficult decisions.

In The World of Thedas Vol. 2, Imshael offers this insight:

“I find it disappointing how often people blame things on demons. Don’t you? They come up with stories where the demons trick them into committing some evil act, where they possess the mage and turn him into a horrific monster, where the demons are always the villains. But if you paid attention to the Chant of Light instead of just repeating it over and over in your mind like you’re doing right now, you’d know that even Andraste herself didn’t believe that. Spirits are attracted to feelings, passions, those moments that define someone’s life. We don’t put the bad feelings into your head. We come to you because they’re in there already.”

This suggests that Imshael’s purpose is not inherently malevolent.

They thrives in the intensity of life-defining moments—the weight of choice—and perhaps even sees their role as necessary, which very much aligns with a Choice Spirit.

Can Imshael Evolve?

Spirits in DA are capable of evolution, often shaped by their interactions with the mortal world and the people around them. We’ve seen spirits grow, change, and even regain clarity (e.g., Eulogy and Hope Unyielding).

If Imshael were surrounded by individuals who encouraged them to explore their purpose without cruelty or manipulation, it’s conceivable they could evolve into a more balanced or nuanced version of a Choice Spirit.

This would depend on:

The Nature of His Surroundings: Compassionate or thoughtful companions might influence them toward more positive manifestations of choice.

Their Willingness to Reflect: Imshael would need to examine their own methods and intentions, which might be challenging given their pride and confidence in his purpose.

What Would Imshael Be Like as a Companion?

Imshael’s focus on choice and consequences (which aligns really well with DATV) would make them a constant source of thought-provoking dialogue. They would likely challenge the player and other companions to reevaluate their decisions, especially when faced with morally ambiguous situations. Imshael might revel in moments of high stakes, encouraging the player to make difficult choices, even if those choices lead to suffering or conflict.

They would probably have conflict with some of the companions, such as Davrin and Luncanis. But have more amiable relations with Emmrich and Taash for example. 

Imshael could play the role of a devil’s advocate, encouraging the player to lean into difficult, morally gray decisions. They might tempt the player to explore paths they’d normally avoid, justifying it as a way to test their values or uncover hidden truths.

May your path through the Fade remain well-lit!

—The Fade Codex

[4lexnilsen]

lengthy fingers massaging the foaming shampoo into her scalp with nothing but tenderness and affection,  trying to help her relax.   chase away all of her worries and fears.   living with a death sentence is such a strange form of torture,  and the only way to survive without much damage to one’s sanity up until the execution day is to take life as it comes at you.   one moment at a time.   he wants to focus on what’s happening here and now,  on making this sweet girl feel loved…   “keep your eyes closed,  okay?   i’m afraid i’m doing too good of a job,”   he laughs because the suds are everywhere now —   running down his forearms,  dripping from his elbows,  piling at their feet,  racing down abi’s back and legs.   he gently touches her temples and silently asks her to tilt her head back some more,  trying to keep her eyes safe as his fingertips continue to rub the shampoo into her dark roots.   

the funny thing is alex has never been a fan of silence,  but this kind is strangely comforting and doesn’t bother him one bit.   he enjoys it,  getting to rinse her hair and apply a generous amount of sweet-smelling conditioner onto the very ends,  doing something so normal for once,  basking in her presence.   the sound of the water running reminds him of a heavy downpour,  the world outside so unimportant right now…   “something special,  hm?”   he echoes with a soft smile,  fingers carding through her long locks,  hesitantly touching her back.   his skin so pale compared to hers.   his palms move over her sides,  tracing each rib,  circling the dimples at the bottom of her spine,  massaging her skin for a moment before settling on her hips.   he drinks up her every word,  nodding his head as his heart does a little backflip.   “that’s so sweet,  abi.   you sure did make me feel very special with that hug.   have i ever told you that it was the first genuinely kind gesture since…   well,  before i got reaped,  basically.”   and it meant the world to him,  made him feel less monstrous.

“i mean,  of course,  david gave me a hug and a kiss,  but he was just a little boy who didn’t even understand what had just happened,  right?   i thought no one who actually watched the games would ever see me as…   a human being,  not a cold-blooded killer with other children’s blood on my hands.”   when she hugged him,  a certain kind of peacefulness washed over him.   he almost broke down there and then,  but by some miracle or perhaps shock,  managed to keep his emotions under control.   “yeah,”   he answers without a second of hesitation,  not caring how it makes him look.   just like a love-struck schoolboy.   “i could barely introduce myself because my heart felt all weird,  pounding so fast,  stealing my breath away.   but i thought you were out of my league.”   he still doesn’t fully understand what she sees in him.   she could do so much better.

“mm,  good.   i love being a fool with you,”   he hums,  pressing his lips to her forehead as she turns around,  his eyes meeting hers.   he finds himself fighting the urge to kiss her again.   properly.   on the lips.   keep kissing her until they’re both out of breath,  sore and swollen and unable to think straight.   “are you sure you should be doing this,  baby?”   he offers instead,  worrying the shampoo might sting her injured palms.   but she doesn’t seem to listen and so to make it easier for her,  he lowers his head,  his neck straining.   “i could crouch down or kneel or something?”   he offers,  deciding to be somewhat annoying or maybe just trying to hear her laugh and tickling her sides.   “oh,  right…   i mean,  i’ve only confessed my love for you about ten thousand times just today,”   he laughs,  playing along,  finding her sense of humor endearing.

Alex’s fingers scrubbed the shampoo into her hair, suds colored pink by the floral scent added to them rolling down her body as they were washed away by the water. She didn’t care much for roses. They were pretty, but too delicate, too finicky, and they reminded her of the Capitol. Still, she’d happily smell roses the rest of her life if it meant she could spend it with Alex, and she supposed in a way she would.

Abilene shut her eyes, basking in the warmth of the water and his body so close to her like a lizard on a rock beneath the sun. Alex’s hands combed through her dark locks with conditioner next, which smelled much the same as the shampoo. She thought back to that first meeting when Alex asked.

Up until last year it was common for new victors on their victory tours to meet the other victors. They were friends, after all, or at least most of them were. Perhaps acquaintances was a better term to describe it - Abilene was known to stretch the title of friend a bit more than others. She remembered him standing there - tall and shy. He wore something blue, because certain shades of blue made his eyes pop and Abilene could see his eyes that day in her mind as though it was happening just then.

She hugged him. She remembered that. The tributes from ten were both young that year, and while Alex had every opportunity to kill them he didn’t. He took care of them. He protected them… until he couldn’t. Abilene would never forget that kindness. Her embrace hadn’t just been from her, but from everyone in Ten. After the children had died a handful of people stormed the peacekeepers and production stopped from an entire day.

Alex’s arms were hesitant and nervous and still thin from recovering from his games, but they wound around her waist that day all the same. She remembered feeling her heart swell, feeling content and safe for just a moment as he stammered out his thanks and blushed. Something had happened during that embrace, something that planted a seed in her chest that flourished with each time she saw him. Was it love at first sight?

“In a way.” She answered honestly. “I didn’t know then that I loved you, or that I would love you… but there was something special about you.” Abilene swallowed and her cheeks flushed. It seemed to be a night for mushy-gushy confessions, wasn’t it? “Was it for you?” She teased back.

Abilene let him wash the conditioner from her hair before she turned back around to face him. “We’re both fools.” She laughed. Her skin was pink from the heat of the water, and from her own blush. She gathered some shampoo in her palm and stretched onto the tips of her toes to reach all of his hair, thin fingers running through each flattened curl before the water would wash it off again.

“Be careful,” she warned, a mischievous smile on her lips. “You keep saying all of these sweet things about me and I might start to think that you love me.” She was teasing him of course, as she knew the depth of her feelings for him and assumed that his heart felt much of the same.

[halitis]

im so fucking dumb. i was thinking about my blorbo and my stomach was hurting and i thought it was because i was just thinking about them and feeling sad. NO ITS CAUSE I WAS ABOUT TO THROW UP DUMBASS??