#that used to enable me to write about them. now when i go to write it’s like. i’m not connected to them i don’t know them well enough

[a-griffin-in-the-sky]

Hello!!! Can I add in my two cents? I’ve been abused in the way narcissistic people can abuse others, by my boss. I didn’t know what was happening at first

When I first got hired, He praised everything I did. He made me feel special like I was the only one who “got it.” Then slowly, he started criticizing everything: my tone, my pace, my presence. In the end, he barely acknowledged I existed

He’d deny things he said. Claim I misunderstood. Call me "too emotional" when I was reacting to his cruelty. I’d second-guess everything even when I had proof in writing.

He was beloved by our upper management. He knew how to charm people above him. To outsiders, he was fun and magnetic. Meanwhile, behind closed doors, he was cutting, controlling, and mean.

“I expected better from you.” “I’m disappointed but not surprised.” He’d act like everything I did wrong was a personal betrayal.

He made me feel like I couldn’t succeed without him. Like I’d be nothing without this job. He’d imply I was lucky he kept me around. That he was the only one who would tolerate me. It kept me scared to leave.

If I showed initiative or confidence, he punished me. Talked down to me in front of others. Cut me out of projects. Suddenly, I was invisible. Like success without him was a threat.

He turned coworkers against each other. He’d gossip about one person to me, then turn around and say things about me to them.

When he did say sorry, it was empty. Just enough to make me stay quiet or feel guilty for being hurt. He expected me to be grateful like it was a favor. Nothing ever changed.

Now, everything I listed above?

These are things narcissistic people can do to feel control, because, at the core of it, narcissists are deeply insecure. Looking back, he was insecure as hell. He had to tear others down just to feel big, he was pathetic from his actions.

And yet he’s the one with the job, and I’m the one picking up the pieces.When I brought this up in therapy, my therapist gently said

“We can’t diagnose him. But what you’re describing? It sounds like narcissistic abuse.”

Together, we built a treatment plan to help me recover from it.

The point wasn’t to slap a label on him but to name the pattern so I could break free from it.So… do I think he’s a bad person?

Yes. I really do. He abused his power, harmed others, and got away with it.

Do I think all people with NPD are bad?

No. Not even close. Having a disorder doesn’t make you abusive.Honestly, that man needs therapy and mood stabilizers but instead, he’s been enabled. And that’s the real disconnect.

People with Cluster B traits or diagnoses aren’t inherently bad. If someone gets help whether through therapy, medication, or just deep self-awareness, they can be amazing, dynamic, and healing people to be around. They can grow.

This isn’t about demonizing mental illness. It’s about naming the difference between someone with a diagnosis, and someone using that disorder to justify being abusive and never changing.

And here’s another thing people don’t want to talk about:

He was a man, if a woman had acted the way he did emotional outbursts, manipulation, gossip, backhanded cruelty, turning people against each other she’d be labeled “crazy,” “unstable,” “hormonal,” and probably fired.

But because he was a man, it got framed as “leadership,” “tough love,” or “just being direct.”

That’s the double standard.

Men with Cluster B traits are more likely to get enabled, their behavior seen as powerful or intense.

Women with the same traits are more likely to get ostracized or pathologized.

Now, back to my point, when I say narcissistic abuse, I’m talking about the pattern. The repeated, predictable behaviors that line up with what we understand about how narcissistic abuse works: gaslighting, power games, emotional manipulation, image control, and punishment for independence.

I’m not saying, “My boss has Narcissistic Personality Disorder.”

But here’s the reality men like him rarely go to therapy and they rarely reflect,they rarely change.

Dosent mean they can't. So… here I am. Naming what happened because no one else will.

I’m not using the term to be dramatic, I’m using it because it fits.Because the harm was real. And I need language to navigate this shit storm of regulating my nervous system.

i love ppl with cluster b disorders yall are not abusers and not crazy

hope you have the best day ever cluster b disorders

also i WILL fight anyone who believes in anyyyyy type of cluster b abuse

so yeah, show up in my ask box, the replies, the reblogs. i will murder you.

anon's on if you're a coward<3<3<3

but yeah fucking debate me i love cluster b disorder havers and i hate ppl who believe in cluster b abuse

[chemicaljacketslut]

like i’m telling you so seriously it is the WORSTTTTTT feeling ever not having a fixation on something. recently i’ve been feeling that creative itch to write like SO strongly and then i realize i don’t have any characters to write about. for the past like month there’s just been this part of me that’s been soo restless not being able to write when i’m finally motivated to sigh.. if y’all have tips lmk PLEASE

[bit-b]

About a trending Discord warning:

TL;DR: Discord is NOT making "Find your friends" enabled by default. You're probably not giving Discord your contact information without your knowledge. Their UI choices just suck.

There's a warning post going around by a person I'm not going to name, as I don't want people to dogpile on them. That is NOT the goal of this post, and if you DO harass anyone because of what I write, then you're a garbage person with garbage habits that needs to throw those habits in the garbage.

Rather, my goal with this post is to educate about a Discord feature that's not being represented properly.

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

Supposedly in the new mobile update, Discord added this ""NEW"" feature called "Find your friends", and then they enabled it by default. This feature allows users to use their smartphone contacts to search for their friends on Discord. It also enables others to be able to find you in the exact same way.

Obviously, this would be MASSIVELY dangerous from a privacy perspective.

Imagine if someone had relatives that use Discord. In a scenario like that, those relatives would have an easy way of finding the accounts of family members. And in some home situations, online anonymity from relatives could mean the difference between having an outlet and not having an outlet.

I'm also pretty sure I know some folks with alt accounts (you know who you are). And if Discord was somehow able to cross-reference all your contacts with the Discord accounts you're logged into, that would be DISASTROUSLY EMBARRASSING, to say the least.

So I totally understand how concerning this would be if it turned out to be true.

The thing is, it's not.

The person who made that warning misinterpreted THIS page:

This is the new "Add Friends" page for the Discord mobile app. Obviously, a page to help you add friends. There's a big 'ol window at the bottom showcasing Discord's "Find your friends" feature.

Now, this feature is actually NOT new. It's been around for a long time. But there's a very subtle change that happened with the new update. Take a look at how "Find your friends" used to look:

It starts by giving you a banner at the top of your friends list, telling you that this feature is available. Then when you click on it, it takes you to a page with UI elements that look awfully familiar.

It's pretty clear what happened. In an effort to condense down their friend-finding functions into one menu, Discord took the "Find your friends" setup menu and tossed it in with all the other ways to contact friends.

But by doing this, Discord has made this setup window confusing. It's not immediately obvious if the "Find your friends" feature is ON and running, or OFF and waiting to be activated.

Maybe it would have helped to make the blurple button read something like "Sync contacts" instead of "Find friends". At least then, you could tell at a glance that nothing has been sync'd yet. (Or y'know, maybe just stick to "Grant Permission". That was working just fine before.)

So it seems the OP:

Looked at the "Find your friends" setup menu that Discord hastily slapped into the "Add friends" page

Noticed the checkbox that read "Allow contacts to add me"

Saw that it was already marked

Then assumed that it must be some kind of tucked-away setting that was left ON by default.

To make this abundantly clear, "Find your friends" only works if you opt-in.

That checkmark allows you to tell Discord you are okay with people finding you in this manner. Unchecking it makes it possible to use "Find your friends" without others being able to find you the same way.

It doesn't get set up on your device until you press the big blurple "Find friends" button. Even then, you still have to add your phone number to your account and verify it via a 6-digit code sent via SMS.

After that, you have to give Discord permission to access your contacts via whatever phone OS you use.

You have to be pretty deliberate for any of these functions to start.

I won't say it's impossible to set it up on accident. It's a strange world, and stranger things have happened. If you want to, go check your app permissions to make sure you don't have contact permissions enabled for Discord. It's always good to be sure. But rest easy knowing that you probably don't have to worry about it.

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

In my opinion, I think that anyone who reblogged that warning should consider reversing those reblogs.

Honestly, I also think the OP should just delete their post instead of repeatedly adding amended reblogs to it. At the end of the day, the core of that post was misinformation and misguided assumptions. There's no real reason to keep it up.

Besides, I'd rather pin Discord on things they're ACTUALLY guilty of. Like designing a new UI that's widely mocked. And making things 10x more confusing for the end-user.

Here's Discord's official "Find your friends" FAQ page:

https://support.discord.com/hc/en-us/articles/360061878534-Find-Your-Friends-FAQ

I hate to beg, but I'd appreciate if people would reblog this post. I fear that the warning post is gonna steer a LOT of people to believe a lot of things about Discord that are logically and functionally not true.

[duvetchico]

Write me karina mall date n I'll kiss u 👅👅👅

(Pretend I'm a male bird trying to seduce u into writing this)

mall rat

summary jimin’s boredom drags you out of your depression nest and into a mall date full of cuddly crimes, weird juice, and the slow realization that she’s your favorite person to suffer with.

genre fluff / crack / girlfriend brainrot

pairing yu jimin x fem!reader

i hate birds especially when they're male so im only doing this for the ppl

masterlist.

it begins at war. well, not really. it begins with you horizontal on the couch for the fifth hour straight, remote lost somewhere under your ass, half-dead from whatever seasonal depression was cooking up this time.

jimin’s draped over your legs like a stylish barnacle, wearing her 'i’m up to no good’ hoodie (you knew because it was yours, stolen, and she only wore it when plotting). she’s scrolling through her phone aggressively, thumb tapping at light-speed.

“i’m bored,” she said.

“congrats.” you didn’t even look at her. you were emotionally and spiritually one with the couch.

“no like,” she huffed, dramatic as ever, “i-need-to-go-out-and-buy-things bored.”

“what the fuck,” you muttered. “you literally ordered six shirts last night.”

“yes. and now i wanna touch them in real life.”

“jimin i am in a state of complete and total sloth. i cannot mall. my body will evaporate under the fluorescent lights.”

she sat up fast, excited now, like a toddler who just saw a dog. “mall.”

“no.”

“mall.”

“absolutely not.”

“mall date.”

“no.”

“i’ll buy you that overpriced cinnamon pretzel you like.”

pause.

“...fuck.”

- jimin had her sunglasses on even though the sun was nonexistent. she was strutting in like she owned the food court. you were ten steps behind her, still waking up.

you looked like her tired little assistant. she looked like she was about to host a ted talk on how to seduce women in the cologne aisle.

“babe,” she called over her shoulder, “should we get matching tote bags?”

“should you stop financially ruining us?”

“that’s a no.”

- you weren’t even in the squishmallow store for ten seconds before she screamed, “LOOK, IT’S THE WEIRD TOAST ONE YOU LOVE.”

you tried to deny it. tried to act normal. but the squishmallow had eyes. and a smile. and you folded.

“you’re weak,” she said proudly, already buying it for you.

“you enable me.”

“and i’d do it again.”

you walked around the rest of the mall with a giant smiling piece of bread in your arms. at some point she took a photo of you and posted it on her story captioned “baby’s first loaf”

- you sat on the fitting room bench watching jimin do stupid little runway spins in outfits she had no intention of buying. she was narrating herself like it was a documentary:

“here we have the rare lesbian, hunting in her natural habitat… hunting for discounts.”

“jimin.”

“she spots her prey—an overpriced corduroy jacket. will she attack?”

“please shut up.”

“she attacks.”

you laughed against your will and she grinned so fucking smug.

- “try this,” jimin said, handing you a mystery cup of juice from some random vendor.

“what the hell is this?”

“i don’t know. it was free.”

you drank it. instantly wanted to curl up and die. “it tastes like grass and feet.”

“why is it spicy,” she whispered after sipping. “who puts ginger and feet in a drink??”

“capitalism.”

you both made matching disgusted faces and tossed it in the trash like war survivors.

- you were sitting side by side outside the mall now, sun setting, squishmallow between you, her head on your shoulder.

she was humming something dumb and playing with your fingers absentmindedly.

“today was nice,” she said, voice soft.

you hummed. “you dragged me out of the house like a hostage.”

“but did you die?”

“emotionally, yes.”

she giggled and kissed your cheek. “you love me.”

“shut up.”

“you do love me.”

“say it.”

“fine. i love you. now buy me ice cream or i’m taking the squishmallow hostage.”

“deal.”

[thesiltverses]

A very big thank you

I posted this on Patreon, but really wanted to share it here as well:

Post-show life begins

For a long while now I’ve been getting up at 4.30 or 5am, grabbing myself the first coffee of four, and then coming to sit at my desk.

I open up the assembly cut of the newest TSV episode.

I listen to it, I try and pin down which scenes I need to be going back over today. I try and push through the entire morning without a break because when the momentum stalls, that’s what kills your release schedule. (I also worry endlessly about just how much of my hair is falling out, and how spending 12 hours a day wearing headphones could be contributing to that.)

Today was different. I still woke up early - it’s a hard habit to shake off, and probably a useful one going forward. But I didn’t go to my desk, and I didn’t put my headphones on.

I went to the rocking chair we bought for our son when he comes, and I sat there - gently swaying and trying not to spill my coffee all over it, because for some reason it’s fucking beige - and looked out over the city skyline. 

I slugged back my coffee surrounded by all the stuff we’ve panic-bought for the baby, and I got to take all of it in - washcloths and the changing table and romper suits - with a sudden focus and a clarity and a rising excitement that I really hadn’t allowed myself to feel until today, because until today the work was still unfinished and there was still much left to be done.

All at once I felt very free, and fully sated, and happy and proud for everything that’s coming next.

There’s so much to feel grateful for from the past three years of working on this show. But what’s probably going to sit with me the most is being able to arrive at that moment and those feelings today, - and we have all of you incredible people to thank for that.

Not just in terms of listenership or financial support, although that’s been truly invaluable and a lifeline for us that’s enabled us to actually make the show - but also your enthusiasm, your passion, your jokes and comments and everything that’s helped to keep us motivated and working on it.

So - with as much feeling as words can convey, thank you so, so much for everything.

What’s coming next, in rough order

#1: Parentdom is going to take over our lives for a while! I also want to write the final Patreon episode commentaries in the next few days, while I have the time and the clear memories. #2: The next thing we’ll organise will be the post-season Q&A (we’d also like to do some kind of off-camera cast party if we can make schedules work, just to say thank you to our amazing VAs and celebrate with them). Please do ask us questions! #3: We have long-unfinished commitments to the Patreon which I need to complete: the last two episodes of So Long, Good Luck, and rounding off Sid Wright’s story. As ever, huge thank-yous for your patience with these; they’ve just been impossible to polish off while also working on the main show so much. #4: Something I’ve been thinking about for a long time is the possibility of going back to Season 1 and redesigning it from scratch to try and bring it closer in style to S2 and S3. We have the raw audio files - some of the mic quality will just be rough no matter what, but we can certainly try.  This is something I want to be conscientious and careful about; I very much want to respect the sound design work that’s already taken place, and ensure we’re not overriding anything. But I do know that the initial quality still sometimes puts new listeners off; we were learning a lot about direction and mastering from scratch, and our designers were working with limited budget and a total lack of plugins, so there’s simply a lot more we can achieve now. (This would also be a good opportunity for me to finally rework the transcripts, another fallen hurdle). #5: A few months back, we were contacted by a literary agent in NYC who was interested in us adapting the show into a series of novels. There’s a long road ahead to actually get published, but I'm thrilled to say that I have signed with them and I’m really excited to hopefully start work on the first book once I’ve settled into dad-dom. I’ll need to check what’s possible, but if it doesn’t interfere with any contract condition I’d obviously love to share excerpts on here as it’s written. #6: Then there’ll also be another larger audiodrama project - we’ve spoken about the different possibilities before! Excited to get started on our final choice.

Just one last word about endings

God, endings are scary. Because endings are impossible.

How many serialised stories actually end in a way that’s received unequivocally well?  People yelled at The Sopranos for its ambiguity and open-endedness. People criticised Breaking Bad for treating Walt too sympathetically at the end and relying on a generic mob of snarling Nazis to act as his final foe.

Endings are either too pat and neat, or too inconclusive to be satisfying, or too surreal and dreamlike, or they simply make what feels like the wrong choices for the characters we care about. We’re all caught in that barbed wire, creators and audience alike, weighed down by the baggage of what’s come before and we've already spent so much time anticipating the infinite possibilities of how it could all turn out - it’s like we can’t get free of the story that’s trying to end. 

And the beautiful thing about these longform, iterative works is that they insist upon becoming completely ungovernable. No matter how much of a planner the creator claims to be, how much prepwork they carry out - they were never really in control. There’s spontaneity and surprises and dead ends and beautiful distractions that come spilling out along the way (I was baffled and delighted to learn that people really - at the end of the show, with such limited time to spare - wanted to find out what had happened to Eddie*). 

So they can’t end. Not really. There’s too much wonderful mess in them to ever be reasonably disentangled.

And, of course, for every ending people remember with frustration or dissatisfaction, there’s another hundred endings that nobody remembers at all, because we lost our enthusiasm along the way and it feels better to keep going back to the start and avoiding the slow decline. (Who the fuck remembers how the umpteenth X-Files reboot ended? What increasingly tired post-modern antics was Alan Moore getting up to in the final League of Extraordinary Gentlemen books?). I really just didn’t want the show to end up in that latter category.

All of that probably sounds like I’m warding off criticism about the show's ending, but for me it’s actually been the opposite. 

For an ending which is all about narrative dissatisfaction, and failed potential and missed opportunities, and how we need to come to terms with the lack of existential fairness and certainty and narrative control in our lives and keep ploughing forward all the same for as long as we possibly can, I’m massively stunned at just how positive the reception has been on here and elsewhere, and that’s something I’m actively having to process, because I think I was fearfully anticipating much more pushback.

But, look - the Eskew finale was originally quite poorly-received and then people came back around to it over time. So I’m not going to pat myself on the back too hard, because maybe it’ll ultimately be the opposite with this show, and that’s OK. For 200 years everyone was convinced King Lear was improved by having everyone survive at the end and get married. Endings take time to settle into their final condition.

For now, I am incredibly relieved that the ending we chose seems to have landed for most people, and I’m incredibly grateful for the lovely messages we’ve got about it and for the trust in us that you’ve all shown throughout the story.

So, yeah, let’s end with another thank you, because that’s what I feel so deeply and so forcefully at this point.

Thank you so much again, and speak soon.

Jon

*My take? We’ve established that the guy is in some kind of blue-collar job and has been pushed into constant overtime due to the reduced workforce. We’ve seen that the so-called ‘national holiday’ doesn’t actually rescue workers from their commitments. So I personally imagine that Eddie was working during the parade somewhere on the city outskirts, and is alive and well.

[mixtapesandwintercoats]

women=scapegoats

Just my opinion.

TRIGGERING WARNING: SA/ SH

When did the word woman become synonymous with scapegoat? As I see the news each day, I realize this is the world we seem to live in. In light of recent events regarding the attempt to destroy the career and livelihood of a fellow actress and woman , I have felt compelled to write this, as I have unfortunately been subject to the same toxic masculinity throughout my life. In my recent career, I’ve brought forward concerns about a male colleague and was deemed “hysterical.” I was told my fears were figments of my imagination. Now, as I’m seeing this pattern pop up more, I realize this is the norm.

I, like a lot of women, had hope in change —especially in the latter part of 2017 when many brave women came forward during the #MeToo movement. There seemed to be an uprising, a new wave of recognition for those who had been abused, degraded, slandered, silenced and it was loud. But it was the kind of noise I can only liken to a firework. It can wake you up out of a sound sleep, it burns so bright and shocks the shit out of you but then, it burns out — just like that. And when the smoke in the sky clears and the ashes and debris are swept away from the sidewalk, behind closed doors —to them— we are still just noisy women.

So we all go about our business until the next wave of injustice comes.

With the #MeToo movement, it felt different. People were annoyed (by people, I mean men and anyone who enables abusers). Annoyed that they might have to change their own dehumanizing behavior. I remember the shift from “yasss!!! Go women!!!! We are woke af!!!! We got your back!!!!” To “god, didn’t these bitches have their moment a few years ago? Get over it”. As if centuries of women being underpaid, undervalued, under-appreciated, raped, harassed, terrified and used for the benefits of dick-wielding heroes would be erased because you commented on your second cousins #MeToo instagram saying “stay strong”.

It was a pat on the head, a consolation prize accompanied by an eye roll as if we were just all constantly complaining that the gas station didn’t sell our preferred brands of tampons.

When a suit was filed against me by a former employer, (the suit was withdrawn), after making a confidential complaint against a coworker for unprofessional behavior, I had the silly and naive impression they would believe me. I am not known as a liar in my field of work, no matter how vocal I may be. Hence, why I’ve been working for 25 years. Instead of being believed and protected, a suit was filed against me for having the audacity to speak up. I was publicly shamed and defamed in the process. A reputation I had cultivated for over 2 decades had now been tainted as I became the crazy, paranoid and to quote directly, “hysterical and wild” woman, who apparently just had it in for men. My previous abuse was also brought up as “unfounded claims”, and I was made to seem like someone who just goes after men, rather than being seen as someone who has been dealing as a professional in this world, since I was a child, standing up for herself. This was after I had taken all of the recommended, reasonable and appropriate measures of reporting confidentially to my union.

The experience left me with a lot of questions, of the professionals in my industry, of the public, and of men.

To the public… I often wonder why are we always so excited to see the takedown of a woman? Why are we always so quick to defend a man after he is accused of bad behavior, but if a woman speaks out… she’s clearly a liar? I’d like to think it’s because we are supremely afraid to believe the truth that these things actually happen. I’d like to believe it’s some form of indoctrinated denial. However, time and time again, I find most people believe the approval of a man is far more significant than the burden of supporting a woman. For men, it is always innocent until proven guilty. For women it is the opposite. “Prove your fear.” “Prove your discomfort.” “Prove your pain.”

This MUST change.

And to men, I first wonder… if you complained about a coworker and you were called a liar… how would you feel? You probably can’t answer this because most likely, statistically, it’s never happened to you. Men are usually believed because so many “bosses” are men.

I will say this to those who have such a difficult time believing that women are truthful: do you know what happens to us if we report anything?

Do you know that most of the time when a woman reports a concern about a man, the burden of proof lies solely on us?

Do you know how it feels to be treated as a second rate citizen solely because we don’t have an appendage we can stick into anything we feel we own the right to?

And yet… you need us. You can’t charge your phone without an outlet right?

And is that all we are? Outlets? Something you can take your anger and vitriol and push that into us and onto us?

It leads us to the impossible double-edged sword we face everyday.

If we don’t speak up, we’re weak and aiding in the problem.

If we do, we are over dramatic, bitchy, bossy, divas.

Do you have a sister? Do you have a daughter? Do you have a mother? I’m sure you do.

And so here we find ourselves again, in a vicious cycle of crucifying another woman for speaking out against a man. Watching as the world splits in two over who is telling the truth, no matter how much evidence is presented. Because how could a woman do anything but lie or exaggerate?

So I ask you this:

How can a man do anything but lie when he is consistently told his deceptions are gospel? Are we forever to hold the burden of being “perfect” to be victims and to be believed?

To change the narrative, we do not need more women to scream. We just need a lot more men to shut up and listen.

-abbie

[calaisreno]

WIP Wednesday : The Sibylline Book

In 2019 I wrote a short fic called The Story of Us, inspired by a line from the movie Arrival. It was an intriguing idea and good enough story, but it felt incomplete, as if I'd skipped over a lot of the best parts. I had ideas about it.

A few months later, I started writing a story called Palimpsest, but backed away from it when other things took my attention.

At some point, I realised that these two ideas were made for each other. The John from The Story of Us with the Sherlock of Palimpsest might create an interesting dynamic.

In May of 2020 I wrote Sherlock investigating the murder of Vincent Karpaty. He didn't know John yet, but John had already -- well, you'll see.

The Sibylline Book includes some of my favourite things: ancient books, manuscripts written in unknown languages, conlang nerds, cold cases, murders, Chicago, classical scholars feuding over trivial things, first meetings, a John Watson obsessively trying to read a story written eight hundred years ago, and our favourite consulting detective falling in love. Did I say murders?

And Johnlock, for sure 💕

I'm aiming for early 2026, but will give you a bit now:

“Where is his laptop?” “Didn’t see one.” “Really, Lestrade.” I’m holding up a power cord, still attached to the wall under the desk. “Obviously it’s been taken.” “Okay, someone broke in and stole his laptop. Killed him when he caught them at it.” “A rather stupid thief, then, since he left the mobile.” Plucking the cell phone off the floor, I flip it open. “Enabled for email. Maybe it’s here.” “What’s here?” “The last message he sent, warning his colleague.” “Colleague?” “Partner, whatever. He’s an archaeologist, an unlikely victim of murder, unless he was involved in something more than ancient history. For that, he would need a partner, a collaborator, a confederate. Here it is.” I pause, frowning at the phone.  “What, like smuggling artefacts? Running drugs?” Ignoring Lestrade, I continue looking at the email. Don't go home tonight. It appears that our victim wasn’t warning his colleague; instead, he has received a warning himself. Not the only interesting feature of the case, but certainly worth looking into. 

“So, they weren’t supposed to kill him? What were they after? And why not take the phone?” “I don’t know yet. Probably thought the laptop had what they wanted. When I’ve studied the message, I might have a better idea.” “His last email?” I raise my hand for a cab. “Trace the sender for me. The name’s JH Watson.” Lestrade grimaces. “Common name. I’ll see what I can do.”

@keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl @copperplatebeech @lisbeth-kk

@mydogwatson @a-victorian-girl @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels

@chinike @lhrinchelsea @7-percent @randomquadballpun

@ghostofnuggetspast @redmondcollege @thegildedbee @raina-at

@peanitbear @safedistancefrombeingsmart @kettykika78

@chriscalledmesweetie @ohlooktheresabee @thalialunacy

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I begin posting.

[bratbarzal]

https://kawhh.tumblr.com/post/784202736767057920/im-sorry-to-any-anons-on-here-who-will-only-feel

I know you're most likely sick of talking about this by now but this rubs me the wrong way.

Its like she's trying to downplay it all as 'drama' all the time and its getting so tiring. I'm pretty sure i've been blocked as anon even though i was never mean and she won't actually say what is going on or let anyone try and discuss it even though she says she doesn't mind asking for her side on things?

I think it's really hard for me to speak on this element of the situation and not come across as a bitch, or that I'm unnecessarily targeting someone and deflecting blame from the person who is at fault - but I've skipped out on answering a lot of anons who have either sent me links to things (I've said before, this person has me blocked and I can't view them, so I haven't responded) or had something to say about how it's being handled on this end, but ultimately I do think this user is a part of the overall conversation - and I can't really ignore the impact their actions have had on everything that has happened since this all started last month

a point I really want to make by speaking on this is that it's important for everybody that these things are spoken about publicly, and spoken about honestly, regardless of personal bias, because Brynn's actions genuinely hurt people and caused genuine harm to the writing and reading community on here. ignoring it or sugarcoating it does not take away from the pain caused or the damage done, and it's important to look at multiple perspectives to form an opinion

** I never have and I never will condone hateful messages sent to anyone - that is not the purpose of me speaking on this - and I urge people who want to have any conversation with anybody about this to be respectful, constructive, and not to shout over what is a serious point to be made, because it gets us all nowhere **

under a read more because it's long:

will preface by saying, this is not me trying to stand here on my soap box and point fingers and say that anyone is to blame for brynn's blatant and persistent content theft but herself. that isn't why I'm responding to this. and like I said above, this user has me blocked, I have her blocked, there's no other way for me to speak on it but to do so publicly (as much as she might hold the opinion I have no need to do so) and I sort of just want to show how all of this has had a wider impact on others in this space

I'll also preface by saying kawhh has said throughout that she doesn't agree with Brynn's actions, but as I'll explain below - actions speak louder than words, and the words she's said just aren't enough.

for anyone blocked, this is the post in question:

*most screenshots throughout this post are going to look different bc some of them come from others that have sent these to me - oftentimes by people trying to make me aware as it’s assumed they are about me, I don't know if that's the case, and nor do I actually care, this isn’t me trying to insert myself - the general consensus seems to be that anyone who speaks on this situation is a mean girl, a bully, or a bitch, and I think whoever she's trying to apply that to, it's a problematic take to have. I’m including pictures for context because I can’t link to posts.

my first point from this, is that she does have a responsibility to speak on this situation, and the reason I'm so insistent on responsibility and accountability, is because this user has a documented pattern of choosing to ignore and sensor the facts in favour of platforming, enabling and excusing her friend, despite her repeated abhorrent actions

when announcing brynn's return to the platform in a post that was encouraging forgiveness and giving second chances (no mention of all the other chances given for her to do the right thing), there was also no mention of the specific things she did that caused her to delete in the first place. there were several mentions of "brynn's actions" with no specific detail of what those were, and when she was explicitly asked, she then linked to a post which was an apology from brynn (again, not detailing the full extent of these actions, with repeated references to "what she did" or "her actions" and not a single one explaining in clear, direct terms what that was) and an ask she answered that said "she was taking other people's work from other websites and posting it here, at least some of it" - it's a watered down version of the truth used as a manipulation tactic to people who aren't getting the full story to be able to make an informed decision. she keeps adding that "nobody is saying that stops the hurt" but her repeated disregard of the severity of everything does take away from it

the point I'm making here, is that in situations like this - where she was encouraging people to forgive and forget - there needs to be a clear, unbiased reference for what they are supposed to be forgiving and forgetting, and the repeated cover up, in my opinion, was deceptive and manipulative

there were several available, unbiased posts that she never reblogged to her audience - one including a statement from brynn herself, made with the utmost respect on that user's part, and including screenshotted proof and a clear intention for transparency - that she could have linked to, but she repeatedly disregarded these, and even belittled, shamed and blocked the people who posted them on multiple occasions - stating that people were "stirring the pot for drama", "cashing in on drama and poking around" "being rude or bullying" and engaging in "drama book clubs"

several points then stem from things being handled this way

one being the repeated disregard for how many times people did address this privately - there were screenshots in the aforementioned posts circulating at the time that showed this was addressed privately to brynn dating back to 2023, with her continuing to steal and lie - handling it privately was no longer an option

and the second being the way these statements then trickled down into vicious messages spread across to the people who had the integrity to speak on it, and were shamed and ~virtually spat on for doing so

*these are asks that were posted publicly, and I have no doubt don't reflect the extent of how many people this sort of stuff was sent to, I haven't said who they were sent to but if you read this and want me to, I'll happily do so - not including the vitriol that has been sent to me over the last month, because like I said above, I'm trying to make a point of how far and wide this stuff spreads when handled poorly, however (obviously as someone who had to witness some of the things sent my way, it is clear where the source of the hatred came from, and that is not me saying she herself sent any hate, but that her posts inspired such a reaction - including specific verbiage used within her posts/responses)

tying into the above, and going back to my point about responsibility, throughout the time brynn was then gone, this user was encouraging people to send anons to forward to brynn, actively engaging her in a toxic environment that she, herself, said was the cause of her stealing in the first place, didn't give her a chance to distance herself from it or reflect on why she, for so long and without regard for anybody's feelings, let herself be consumed by engagement on this site, and played a big part in her returning to the platform when a lot of her other friends (who have made public posts that I won't link, because this isn't about them) were actively encouraging her to stay away, grow and learn - friends who then faced the same level of backlash and anon hate when brynn returned despite them trying to help in private

*I am basing this off of the excuses that brynn herself gave for her actions, not any assumption or opinion.

*I'll follow on from this by saying, I understand wanting to try and lighten the load of what was happening for her friend, and wanting her to know that there were people that were worried or cared, but if you're putting out statements saying this whole thing was brought on by an obsession with attention, you should not then be weaponising said attention when the girl clearly needed to remove herself entirely for a chunk of time and reflect on her actions - and all of that while continuing to cover up the actual thing she did

**an anon has since pointed out to me that you cannot send an ask, even on anon, if you don't already have an account, meaning brynn was active when she claimed to be offline, had full access to any content kawhh was forwarding to her without the need to encourage anons to get involved, and in my opinion, anon messages were being utilised to garner sympathy and again, manipulate kawhh's audience - this is my opinion, you can make your own mind up on whether or not you believe in those intentions, I don't want to force it on you but I think it's important to include she had a presence when she claimed not to, and at a time when a lot of other people were dealing with the aftermath of her actions unfairly, and I can't speak on whether kawhh would have been aware of this, but regardless, the whole anon thing should never have been encouraged

and encouraging these sorts of asks obviously then led to a premature return (which again, from public posts and private conversations, I know others were actively encouraging brynn not to do), to an audience kawhh had built of people who did not know what brynn did entirely, and were led to believe others being "bitches" was the problem - there is a public response to one of kawhh's posts that I won't sc, bc the user who commented was doing so based off of a lack of information, but this post was basically saying "SHAME ON EVERYONE TALKING ABOUT BRYNN AND BEING MEAN ABOUT BRYNN, YOU WOULDN'T LIKE THE SAME THINGS BEING SAID ABOUT YOU", proving that there was a false narrative that had been created around the whole situation

obviously it caused another wave of hurt and upset when brynn did come back, at which point kawhh repeatedly platformed her, again, never mentioning the specifics or the extent of her previous actions, despite several "explanation posts" from both of them, trying to enforce her own bias on her audience, and reblogging posts from brynn to her audience who she thus far has withheld the complete truth from (which are still on her page at this moment in time, with, again, no acknowledgement of anything that came to light yesterday)

and this is the point I'm trying to make - and why I have a problem with "it's between me, brynn and her friends" - kawhh herself utilised her own following to create a platform for brynn to come back, and to do the exact same thing over again, therefore perpetuating the same hurt to more people than will ever come forward - people came to her for updates on brynn, with messages to send to brynn, and for an explanation of what she did because they trusted her

and while she has said in vague and non-committal phrases, that she doesn't agree with what brynn did, she has never once publicly held her to account to the following she then manipulated into engaging once more

labelling this entire thing as "drama" and acting like she is above it belittles what brynn did, which includes but is not limited to

stealing multiple fics from other platforms

stealing multiple fics from this platform

stealing multiple fics from her FRIENDS

stealing multiple IDEAS from her friends, posted in private forums, and claiming them as her own

using conversations with her friends or posts by her friends to suit her own content, and pretending like they were her own

*also important to use the correct wording - she didn't "copy writing for some of her posts" - she STOLE writing, oftentimes full fic, changing names only, and at this point with all the evidence shown and everyone who has come forward, it was not some of her posts. It spanned asks, blurbs, fics, mood boards etc, and is presumably most of what she posted, including even random things said in a text post and down to random meme reaction pictures used. Her entire presence and most of her interactions with others were based on plagiarism and theft.

all across multiple years, having been confronted multiple times, and all while refusing to actually, explicitly, say what she did whenever she apologised, and who she did it to - and I'll assume (having spoken to double digits at this point worth of people) it's because the depths at which this whole situation spreads would absolutely disgust people. she blocked people who called her out - people who ended up being bullied back into deleting any post calling her out after receiving anon hate and nasty comments - and she played innocent to anyone who approached her (there are multiple screenshots of messages calling her out, and she gives the same watered down excuses in each one)

assuming 2023 is as far as it does go back, people have been bullied into silence, and the point I'm making here, and the pattern I'm trying to show - is that you can see how something as seemingly innocent as not wanting to condemn a friend's actions to others, contributes to them continuing to purposely hurt others for their own gain

too many people have tried to handle this privately, and have ~unintentionally enabled her over time

all of the things said above have directly contributed to a toxic environment for others on this app, where anyone who speaks on it is sent hate, people who were privately trying to support their friend were sent hate, and someone who repeatedly hurt and stole from others was given a platform to do so

like I said in the beginning, I have no delusions that I can say all this without seeming like a bitch, or like I'm deflecting blame from who is truly responsible - and I have no expectations that kawhh will respond well to this, but something needs to be said when she's constantly undermining the situation while lying to her audience, making endless indirects, and all in the name of "staying out of drama land" and pointing the finger at "mean girls"

she is the one who consistently makes an effort to cover up what brynn did, and so when she continues to do it, she should own up to the fact she can't shirk responsibility for her part in it happening again

AGAIN, I don't condone hate sent to anyone - I'm trying to bring awareness to the multitude of ways in which dealing with this situation with such little regard for anyone but brynn, has caused a ripple effect throughout the community, and I'm hoping it opens some eyes who might have been convinced by the deceptive posts made by kawhh throughout this mess that there's more than one side to a story

I also understand this seems like a vast overreaction to this particular ask, but I had a lot of asks yesterday that I didn't respond to until I could gather my thoughts, and am using this as one singular response

[deepestnightcolor]

First of all, I love the way you write it always helps me picture in my brain the scene so thanks for that~

I'll stop being mushy now hehe

I've been having thoughts about the fem!farmer having a profile on a site to look for hookups before moving to Pelican Town and forgetting about how she used to have spicy texts with Sam just to accidentally meeting him on the streets of her new town while going on a stroll 😏 hehe

Anyways! Have an amazing day!!!

ᴀ/ɴ: IT MIGHT BE FINALS SEASON FOR ME (please, end me) BUT THAT DOESN'T STOP ME FROM KEEPING YOU ALL FED IN ADDITION TO THE OTHER GLORIOUS MEALS YOU MAY CONSUME HERE. Thank you so much for the praise, lovely, it means THE WORLD. I hope you forgive me that I gave this story a little twist, and that you enjoy nonetheless!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 3789 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: sexting, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, slobber, pierced dick (I said it and I will say it again, fight me), mutual pining, you are being pounded~, cream pie.

☾ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴʟɪɴᴇ ☽

Sometimes you still read them. Read them when you were touching yourself beneath the sheets of your bed, read them when you wanted to get in the mood. Sometimes you still read them when you needed a little inspiration, but it was a fact that you still read them.

Normally, you deleted every conversation you had had on that website. But the ones with him had been so… entirely different. It wasn’t like you had been looking for something when you signed up on a site that promised quick, anonymous chats. Chats that could be easily discarded and forgotten. Messages that had one purpose; to still the one’s lust and then move on. To put it simply, a website that promised horny people to meet other horny people, whether it stayed digital or became real was none of their business.

You had never wanted any of this to become real – you were happy to play around with someone and be played around with when you laid in bed, all bored and horny. You were satisfied by being told how good you would be railed, happy with empty promises of being treated like a goddess. Comfortable with sharing some pictures – of course well-placed pictures, hiding details that would enable being recognized, never showing your face. At least you had been happy with building castles in the air until you had met him.

You had stumbled across him in one of the forums, a man showing off his upper body with a sense of pride radiating from his posture alone. He had accompanied the image with a simple line of text: “I am missing my muse.” Usually, you would have rolled your eyes and scrolled past in search of something spicier, dirtier. But something about him had made you click faster on that username than you would have ever liked to admit, sliding into the chat with him with a sense of despair in your chest: >If you treat me well, I could be your next muse.<

Your text had started a message of the sexiest texts you had ever received, and you didn’t even fucking know why. “SkAterdreaM” just seemed to know how to press your buttons. Guiding you to touch yourself with such a sense of precision, praising you just right. >That’s a pretty girl…Are those thighs twitching just for me? Yoba, Id love to kiss them, fuck you right until they are shaking because that’s what you deserve. Deserve to cum over and over again. Come on pretty baby, lemme hear those moans< >You make me so hard, fuck. I am drooling for you< But not only that – he added those videos. Fuck, those videos. You were pretty sure he had always put on a show for you with how he squeezed his cock, milked the pre-cum right out of himself. With how he let out these quivering, shaky gasps, moaning praise right into the microphone. “Look at what you are doing to me, princess- ah, fuck~ I wish you were here with me, gorgeous... I’d let you ride me right now, bounce on my cock… Are you touchin’ yourself for me, sweet girl? Rub that clit for me, yeah? Slooowly, I want you to go slow, just like this- you are going to be good for me, aren’t you?” Reacting perfectly to the videos you were sending him, picking up on little details not even you had been aware of. >Look at those pretty lips, all bitten-up... Feelin so good, baby? You make me wanna kiss em all better, gorgeous< Making you feel seen, heard, and appreciated. And the worst of it all? He wasn’t even there with you.

In all honesty, you had rarely ever come as hard as you had that night, and you hadn’t been able to find anything like that chat on that website since that night. And you had really tried. Texting men and women alike, talking to them, desperate to replicate what you had had with SkAterdreaM, but you always ended up disappointed, always ended up in that chat again and you always ended up disappointed when that last message smiled at you. >You were the prettiest muse I could ever possibly find.<

And damn how you wanted to find SkAterdreaM. Even now that you lived in Pelican Town did you sometimes read that chat, in hopes that the green button next to his name would indicate him being online, would allow you the chance to talk to him again, but you were always denied. It felt like Yoba had given you a gift, just to take it away from you again, leaving you in the bliss of it all and grieving the loss of it. How could life be so cruel?

You had tried to coax him back online, too. Sending pictures, all too pretty pictures. Of you in lingerie, which, you had to shamefully admit, were bought with him in the back of your mind. Of you cupping those pretty tits he had praised the whole night. Of you posing for him. But nothing. SkAterdreaM stayed offline.

But then, one day, you heard it. That voice. It immediately sent your body into a state of tingling sensations, skin burning up, heart pounding. You knew that voice. It sounded a lot less shaky and a lot less raunchy, but you knew that voice. Fuck. Were you going crazy? Had your insatiable need to meet that random-ass man again manifested into a psychosis? Maybe you should visit the town’s doctor, but what would you say? “Hey, I had a really great online sexting session, and now I hear the dude’s voice in real life, please help”? Maybe someone just had a- “Stop it, Seb, or I will kick you in the fucking nuts,” the voice laughed, sending a shudder rippling down your spine. You couldn’t believe it, yet there he was. The source of the voice was making his way toward you – well, more likely toward the saloon behind you, but fuck it – laughing with a man walking next to him.

“Oh! Hi, you must be the new farmer,” he smiled once he noticed you, and you were pretty sure you were just about to topple over, lip quivering. Could this really be? Could you have moved into the same town this online phantom was living in by accident? Was someone playing a cruel joke on you? Nevertheless, you were staring. Staring hard. What were words again, and how did you use them?

“Hi, I-“ -met you on a website for sex and fuck, I missed you. Before your tongue could release the word vomit onto the poor blond you snapped shut your jaw, trying to cover your tracks with an awkward smile. However, something in his face had shifted. A hint of recognition in those blue eyes – Yoba, he was handsome -, but they were definitely flooded with disbelief. A knock in his ribs coming from the man next to him made him stutter back into motion.

“Sam,” he choked out, mirroring that awkward smile on your lips. You gripped his offered hand, your breath hitching into your throat, making it near impossible to breathe out your own name.

“You remind me of someone,” he suddenly started out, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “a muse I met a while ago.” “What the fuck, Sam? Leave the poor girl alone,” the dark-haired man – Seb? – laughed, clearing his throat awkwardly. Little did he know that Sam had said just the right thing. “No worries, you remind me of a dream I had,” you shot back, making a small grin appear on his pink lips. “I will see you around then? I have made a few promises.” “Definitely.”

The way your lips crashed together could only be described as heavenly. Sam hadn’t even really taken the time to close the door behind himself before he had already wrapped you up in an embrace, fingers running through your hair before gently cradling your head. You couldn’t help yourself but moan into the gentle suckle of his lips, your body melting into him like it knew where it belonged. “Fuck, I thought I would never find you again,” he breathed, leaving your lips only for a second to gently nip at your jaw before going right back to your lips. His tongue lapped at the fat of your lower lip, greedily pushing past your teeth to lick over yours, his hands now wandering down your back. The feeling of being desired cursed through you just as much as the feeling of desiring him, your own hands wandering beneath the white shirt he was wearing to feel the smooth skin of his toned stomach. “Same,” you gasped out as he pulled away just enough to let you breathe, “I kept texting you,” you stammered, your lips kissing along his neck, savouring that breathless groan that left his already swelling lips, “but you never replied.” “I lost all access to that account,” he breathed back, his own hands now slipping beneath your shirt, small moan escaping him as they engulfed your tits, “fuck, baby. They feel just as pretty as they looked.” Yoba, he loved that giggle that left you. He had loved everything about your encounters. The way you had reacted to him, the way that you had moaned for him. The way you had begged for more, even though he just couldn’t give you what he had wanted – which had been everything. He had absolutely loved your voice cracking, the way you bit your lip as your hips bucked. The way your thighs quivered. It had been burnt into his mind, lending him a hand whenever he fucked his fist. It should have embarrassed him – an online encounter absolutely possessing his mind, but it didn’t. He had cursed heaven and hell when he had realized that he had lost access to that fucking account, and thus to you. “Believe me, I tried to get back into it,” he sighed, big hands squeezing the flesh in his hand, pierced tongue licking along your throat, just to ease the following blow of his teeth sinking into your pretty skin, “but I couldn’t for the life of me.” And really – he had tried. Even asked Sebastian if he could regain the access he had lost, even though it had set him up for a lifetime of mockery. Your answer was a mere whimper, one that made his pants way too fucking tight. He had never been this hard ever since that night, but now- now he could touch you.

“Pretty princess,” he sighed, hips rutting into you almost automatically. Yoba, feeling you after dreaming about you for so long – it made him feel like he could come right now, like he could cream his pants just because he felt your hands wander down his back, nails scratching along him ever so slightly. Yoba, he needed you.

Even though it physically pained him to pull his hands away from your nipples, he did. Just in favour of pulling down the fabric of your pants. He needed to see you. All bare, just for him. His breath hitched when he saw your panties, adorning your pubic mound in a way not even the most skilled artist could have painted. His whole body quivered as his long fingers reached out for you, brushing the calloused pad along the still clothed skin. He could hear the slight thump of your head falling against the wall behind you as you took in a shaky breath, and he wanted to cry tears of joy. He could have you now, all for himself. The realization made every ounce of patience he had promised himself to have evaporate, instead his fingers curled into the fabric, giving the thin layer of clothing a good tug. “So wet for me already, princess?” he all but cooed, holding your underwear up to your face, a wet spot beaming right at you. “Shut up,” you laughed, albeit a lot more breathless than you had been at the beginning of this, running your hands down his body. “You are not much better, SkaterDream.” Sam’s hips almost involuntarily bucked forward when your fingers brushed along the outline of his erection, eyes rolled back in his skull. Why did your fingers feel so much better than his whole fucking fist? Shit, you had ruined masturbation for him – but he just couldn’t be mad at you. No way, not when you looked up at him like this, doe eyes glazed over with lust, lips puffy from the rough, hungry kisses the two of you had shared.

Just looking at you made his balls pull tight, red tip of his dick drooling pre-cum into the black of his boxers. You were right, he wasn’t much better. His eyes drifted shut as you fisted at his poor dick now, making it cry for release from its restraints. “You are so beautiful; you know that darling? So damn beautiful,” he sighed, allowing your hands to unbuckle his belt with a clinking noise, his own working to slide your shirt above your head. Normally, he would have brought you upstairs, laid you on the bed before he would have taken his sweet times, but right now, he felt like he was starving right in front of a meal. He struggled out of his pants while he pushed up your bra, lips latching on your sweet nipple, letting the moan that left your sinful lips go through his whole system, savouring the way his dick twitched. “That’s right, baby, moan for me,” he coaxed, flicking a finger against your clit. Just lightly, to gauge your reaction. And oh, did you deliver. Your hips bucked forward almost immediately, back arched in in an attempt to get closer, to get more, more, more. Your eyes were half-lidded now, your cleavage flushed, as your lips mouthed wordless begs. How could Sam resist?

He couldn’t. His boxers pooled around his ankles just to be kicked away, pierced dick meeting his stomach with a wet smack. The moan that came from you upon revealing his girth almost sent him toppling over, legs shaking slightly as he slid it between your folds. “What is it, baby? Do you like my dick? Is it good enough for your pretty pussy?” His hips rocked back and forward now, coating his perverted shaft in your slick, eyes never leaving your face as he awaited your response. The nod you gave was small, but the look in your eyes was enough to make him drool. Tears welled in them, just about to slip down those flushed cheeks, so full of desire and despair that he felt like they were mirroring his soul. When the pierced tip caught your twitchy hole, both of you gasped out loud, making Sam’s hips work faster, bumping against your entrance over and over. He adored the wet sounds the two of you created, the way you moaned in his ear, and oh Yoba, how you bit those pretty lips again. He just had to – had to kiss them better, had to aim for your clit, had to please you.  “Sam,” you suddenly gasped, making his head snap up, taking his focus away from how pretty your pussy looked with his dick teasing it. “Yes, baby? What do you want? Tell me, princess.” “Fuck- Sam, please- fuck me,” you mewled, head again bumping into the wall. Another fat glob of pre-cum leaked out of him, and he was pretty sure he had sold his soul to the devil – how else could this be true? But you were his muse, his pretty, pretty princess, that made his balls hurt so good, so if he had actually sold his soul, he would have done it all over again.

“Do you need me, baby? Want my dick to ruin your sweet little cunt? Yeah? That’s what you want?” Another bump against your clit, another tease at your hole, and yet another glob of pre-cum coating your folds. “Yes, Sam! Fuck, PLEASE.”

That had definitely done it for him. Greedy tip lining up with your drooling hole, his eyes searched your face once more before he pushed forward. Feeling your drenched walls wrap around him, Yoba, he wanted to weep. His dick surely did. You were so beautifully wet around him, greeting him with a squelching sound as your walls stretched around him. If his brain had been working until now, it most definitely had short-circuited at right this moment and had left his mouth hanging open, spit dribbling down his tongue and on your gorgeous tits. You weren’t in much better shape – Sam was big. Girth stretching you absolutely thin, making you feel like you were going to rip in half, but fuck, did it feel good. His pierced tip bumped against your walls, and you could feel him pulse inside of you with each push forward.

“Y..you..you okay?” he whispered as he was about halfway in, nodding at the small nod you gave him. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. So good. Fuck, you feel so good. Better than I could have ever imagined, babe,” he babbled, strings of spit landing on your skin with almost every word. “Sweet, sweet girl. Taking in my dick like a perfect little slut, I am gonna move again now, ‘kay? Gonna take all of me, princess?”

You didn’t have any other option than nod – it felt like with Sam’s dick entering you, all the words you had ever learned had left you. Not that you minded, what he gave you was so much better. He fucked his dick further into you, moaning your name in the most strained, beautiful way as he bottomed out. “Good fucking- Good girl, so good for me. Don’t deserve you, darling,” he yapped, beginning with a slow and steady pace. That didn’t last long, though. Your moans were just so beautiful, you see? Sam really did try, though! Really tried to keep slow and go easy on you, but there was just no way to do so when you sounded like this, when you scratched your fingers down his back like this. When you whimpered and bucked into him like this – no, he just couldn’t.

He fucked into you like you deserved, like you had always dreamed of. Giving you quick and hard thrusts that reached deep, tip bullying into you mercilessly. Sam wasn’t able to get enough from seeing you like this, with your mouth either hanging open or closed as you bit your lip, seeing you being ruined by his dick while your tits bounced for him – it just was so delicious. “Fuck, baby. You are suckin’ me off, does it feel good? Do ya like my dick pounding that cunt? Do ya like how I make you mine? Tell me, love. Use your words.” His fingers wrapped around your chin, making you look at him as he thrusted at a rough pace, keeping eye contact as your pussy squelched for his throbbing dick. You smacked your lips together, once, then twice, trying to answer these simple questions, but it was just so hard when it felt like the ability to speak was hogtied by the feeling of your building orgasm. “Can’t hear you, sweets. But look at you, bitin’ your lip again, ya love this, dontcha?” He cooed, licking along your throat, down your cleavage, just to lap and nip at your nipple while his thumb rolled over the other. “Still, I wanna hear you, let me hear those words, c’mon. I know you can do it.” Just to underline his words, he gave you an especially hard thrust, making you gasp out his name, followed by a babbled string of “yes”’s. “That’s it, love. That’s it. Knew you could do it,” he cooed, eyes watching how greedily your cunt sucked in his dick. Yoba, he was close. So, so close. The thought of filling you up made his balls pull again, aching for that sweet, sweet release. He needed you to cum, drench him, cream his cock – he just needed you to.

His tongue lulled out of his mouth, spittle landing on your already damp skin as he pounded into you. His thumb found its spot on your clit again, flicking and rubbing it in circles that matched the pace of his thrusts. “Sa-Sahaaam!” You sobbed, voice edging in a high pitch as your stomach swirled around that approaching high. “What is it, baby? Gonna cum for me? Please, cum for me. Drench me, I want it all, make a mess of me.” His words only added to the building pressure within you, the room suddenly seeming to spin, the only thing that stayed in frame being the blond that fucked into you as if his life depended on it. Your moans no longer consisted of anything cohesive, only the high-pitched edge announced your nearing orgasm. Sam picked up on it, fell right in love with it and obeyed, keeping his pace a steady, hard fuck, thumb massaging your aching clit in a way that made your thighs twitch. You tried to tell him that you were going to cum, you certainly did, but all that left your mouth was a sob, followed by a small whine before your back arched in, legs full-on shaking as your orgasm wrecked through you.

Your hole spasmed around Sam’s already pulsing dick, gush of juices creating a creamy ring around the base of his shaft. He wanted this image of you to be forever etched into his brain, wanted it to be one of his core memories.

The look you gave him was enough to send him over the edge himself, red tip spitting ropes of cum inside of you, filling you up with each thrust. Sam just couldn’t stop, the need to fuck it deep inside of you possessing him as he pounded away, wanted to mark you as his and only his.

Only when his balls felt so incredibly empty did he slow to a stop, panting for hair like a dog in heat. Looking down at you, you weren’t in much better shape. You looked wrecked. Body flushed still, covered in his drools and lovebites he had left while he had been fucking into you. You were still shaking lightly against him, your eyes holding a fucked-out gaze that made his knees weak. For a while, the two of you just looked at one another as you panted, Sam’s hand carefully trading through your hair, the other working on holding up your tired body.

After a while, Sam dared to speak again. “So…I know we met on a website for sex, but…could I maybe take you on a date?”

[sophie-frm-mars]

The struggle in talking about traumatic events in a piece of writing that you're going to publish is always the way it goes completely out of your hands as soon as it's out there. There are people who have treated me in ways I consider to be abuse for example, and it is important and helpful for me in my healing to be able to draw a line under ways that I was treated as a child, treated in relationships, and say "this was clearly wrong". But now I'm writing about madness and mental illness and I want to talk about some things that have happened to me in my life and their effects on me but I don't want people to view these people who have been in my life as evil.

My mum for example, was not well in my childhood and didn't treat me right. I am anxious about giving more details than that because she doesn't deserve to be the bad guy in the story of strangers on the internet. If she deserves to be the bad guy in anyone's story it's mine, and she has been, and I forgave her. The internet wants perfect victims and irredeemable monsters because as a culture we have failed to understand how harm actually happens which is in turn enabling and perpetuating more harm.

My mum wasn't well. My dad wasn't well either, though in a different way. He had a brain tumor that slowly killed him over the first 25 years of my life. My dad was neurologically unwell, my mum was psychologically unwell. I can't blame her for being overstressed in the situation that she was in (I can blame her for some of the ways she responded to it, and I have done and I've moved past it) because it was a completely uniquely isolating awful prolonged trauma to our whole family.

It's not even that I'm worried about consequences for her per se. I used to be when I was younger, like what if I talk about this and she gets in trouble, but now I'm not. She's not super online, she's unlikely to see either this or the video about madness I'm writing. Even if she were it's not like she's a tranny she's not going to be the subject of a harassment campaign. She's retired so doesn't have a job to lose. The main thing in her life that could be affected is how much she sees her kids and that's pretty much just a question of how much each of us have worked through that pain and how easy we find it to see her.

There are people who have hurt me very seriously in my adult life who i don't want to name because I am worried about how it would harm them. I don't want them to suffer because they made me suffer, I want them to have everything. I want them to be well.

But consequences or not it's something else that makes me wary actually. It's something about feeding my story to the collective understanding of trauma and harm when the collective understanding is so cruel, so perfectly inside out, so quick to claim and consume stories of pain to justify more punitive logic, more carceral responses, more and more deep entrenchment of the night and day dichotomy of abuser and victim.

We all understand the nature of abuse as cyclical, that as we say "hurt people hurt people". We could go deeper, a lot of people don't understand they've been hurt until well after they've reproduced the same behavior towards others, but sometimes someone understands themselves as a victim and is convinced of their own harmlessness and this is where they hurt people. The people who uphold a sharp dichotomy between abuser and victim understand the cycle of abuse too, they just believe that causing harm to anyone invalidates your status as someone who has received harm. This belief necessarily treats the stopping of the cycle of abuse as a responsibility on every victim individually and the only options are between sitting still and healing from the trauma or hurting someone else and thereby becoming a non-person and a monster. This is not a healthy way to talk about harm. It is not a realistic way to talk about harm, and it is not a leftist way to talk about harm.

If there is no way for people to change and to be recognized in doing so, we have failed as leftists. Furthermore if we cannot imagine that the people who continue to hurt us could lay down their weapons tomorrow and turn towards healing, we cannot see how wrong what they are doing now really is.

When I think about my mum I see someone society let down. A lioness who had to grow a mane because her mate was sick, and who in the process of trying to save the whole pride was pretty scary to her cubs. She needed help. We all needed help.

When I think about the first trans woman I ever dated, who hit me, sexually assaulted and threatened me, I know she was also very unwell. I know I took active steps to get closer to her because I was sheltered and naive and I thought I could help. She needed help, I tried to give it, but she needed a community who understands how people get sick and how people get better, instead of a bunch of white queers telling monster stories. She was a dog that had been hit its whole life and only knew how to whine bark and bite, and she needed a stable loving and safe environment bigger than I could provide.

I think about the partner after her. She also assaulted me, sprained my finger in a meltdown and her dysregulation was so frequent and so explosive that I felt scared of saying no to her. She then lied about me and blew up not just my life but the lives of several of my loved ones, I know she is also sick. I know she has been hurt again and again and she feels safe in a story where she has never harmed anyone and has overcome her suffering to become a cool confident radical butch. Her behaviour filters people out of her life who will be honest with her, and that is a bigger sickness, a community sickness.

I want to hold back details of what I have experienced and from who because until I feel confident that the people I am speaking to really understand how harm happens, how we get better, and what forgiveness means, my pain will just make more monster stories.

[starcat1701]

Unpopular opinion, but I think the actors involved in Thunderbolts* shouldn't get a free pass from us regarding their involvement in Marvel's marketing of the film.

Yes, yes, I know, they're under contract, etc. etc., but ultimately? They do still have a choice. And they are choosing, repeatedly, to side with Marvel's deliberate erasure of Sam Wilson.

This new poster?

You know, the one where they put Steve's shadow under Walker's? This is the last straw for me.

Don't tell me everyone in the film made fun of Walker for sucking at being Captain America. Don't tell me that the 'New Avengers' are supposed to be a joke and the headlines and satirical images in the credits sequence were supposed to establish that. I don't care what happened in the film, Marvel has leaned hard into the narrative in the real world that this 'team' are the next gen Avengers, the heirs to the OG six. Don't tell me they're supposed to be illegitimate and 'everyone knows Sam has the real Avengers' when everything Marvel's done in the past week has presented them as the real Avengers.

Their marketing campaign is doing real, measurable harm to Sam Wilson as a character (and Anthony Mackie by extension). I don't care if this is all somehow going to be magically fixed in Doomsday (and I don't trust that it will be), that will not erase the damage that is being done right now. And I don't think it's unfair to criticize the actors for just standing by and letting it happen.

Thing is, a lot of garbage is happening right now because a lot of people are just standing by and letting it happen. Choosing to do nothing is still a choice.

Yes, if the actors publicly spoke out and said they were uncomfortable with the marketing, that they didn't like how it sidelined and ignored Sam Wilson, that they did not want to be part of a publicity campaign that was enabling (and, let's face it, full on encouraging) racist comments, there might well be consequences.

Guess what? There are news articles every day about people losing their jobs because they refused to ignore what was happening, because they spoke up, even though they knew there would be consequences.

Bill Owens, the executive producer of 60 Minutes, resigned once he was no longer able to 'make independent decisions based on what was right for 60 Minutes, right for the audience'.

Ann Telnaes, an editorial cartoonist at the Washington Post, resigned in January after her editors refused to publish her cartoon (rough cut below, from her Substack), writing 'As an editorial cartoonist, my job is to hold powerful people and institutions accountable. For the first time, my editor prevented me from doing that critical job.' (She just won a Pulitzer, btw.)

'It's just a movie,' you tell me. 'It's no big deal,' you tell me. 'This has nothing to do with US politics,' you tell me.

See the Mouse genuflecting in that rough draft of Telnaes' cartoon?

Of course it's connected.

We are at a point in history where if you are in a position to do so safely, and you do not speak up, if you do not protest, if you do not actively resist, you are complicit. There is no such thing anymore as 'not being political' because if you use 'not being political' to ignore everything that is happening, that is a political choice.

So, no, I don't think it's too much to ask that the actors take a good hard look at themselves in the mirror and find the courage to speak up, even if that's going to upset tptb at Marvel and Disney.

[gatheringbones]

[“As I see it, there are three parts to the creative process: first, the extra vision with which the artist perceives a truth and conveys it by suggestion. Second, medium of expression: language for writers, paint for painters, clay or stone for sculptors, sound expressed in musical notes for composers. Third, design or structure. When it comes to language, nothing is more satisfying than to write a good sentence. It is no fun to write lumpishly, dully, in prose the reader must plod through like wet sand. But it is a pleasure to achieve, if one can, a clear running prose that is simple yet full of surprises. This does not just happen. It requires skill, hard work, a good ear, and continued practice, as much as it takes Heifetz to play the violin. The goals, as I have said, are clarity, interest, and aesthetic pleasure.

On the first of these I would like to quote Macaulay, a great historian and great writer, who once wrote to a friend, “How little the all important art of making meaning pellucid is studied now! Hardly any popular writer except myself thinks of it.” As to structure, my own form is narrative, which is not every historian’s, I may say—indeed, it is rather looked down on now by the advanced academics, but I don’t mind because no one could possibly persuade me that telling a story is not the most desirable thing a writer can do. Narrative history is neither as simple nor as straightforward as it might seem. It requires arrangement, composition, planning just like a painting—Rembrandt’s “Night Watch,” for example. He did not fit in all those figures with certain ones in the foreground and others in back and the light falling on them just so, without much trial and error and innumerable preliminary sketches. It is the same with writing history. Although the finished result may look to the reader natural and inevitable, as if the author had only to follow the sequence of events, it is not that easy. Sometimes, to catch attention, the crucial event and the causative circumstance have to be reversed in order—the event first and the cause afterwards, as in The Zimmermann Telegram. One must juggle with time.

In The Proud Tower, for instance, the two English chapters were originally conceived as one. I divided them and placed them well apart in order to give a feeling of progression, of forward chronological movement to the book. The story of the Anarchists with their ideas and deeds set in counterpoint to each other was a problem in arrangement. The middle section of the Hague chapter on the Paris Exposition of 1900 was originally planned as a separate short centerpiece, marking the turn of the century, until I saw it as a bridge linking the two Hague Conferences, where it now seems to belong. Structure is chiefly a problem of selection, an agonizing business because there is always more material than one can use or fit into a story. The problem is how and what to select out of all that happened without, by the very process of selection, giving an over- or under-emphasis which violates truth. One cannot put in everything: The result would be a shapeless mass. The job is to achieve a narrative line without straying from the essential facts or leaving out any essential facts and without twisting the material to suit one’s convenience. To do so is a temptation, but if you do it with history you invariably get tripped up by later events. I have been tempted once or twice and I know. The most difficult task of selection I had was in the Dreyfus chapter. To try to skip over the facts about the bordereau and the handwriting and the forgeries—all the elements of the Case as distinct from the Affair—in order to focus instead on what happened to France and yet at the same time give the reader enough background information to enable him to understand what was going on, nearly drove me to despair. My writing slowed down to a trickle until one dreadful day when I went to my study at nine and stayed there all day in a blank coma until five, when I emerged without having written a single word. Anyone who is a writer will know how frightening that was. You feel you have come to the end of your powers; you will not finish the book; you may never write again.”]

barbara w. tuchman, from practicing history: selected essays, 1996

[doiliedaze]

Bloodlust: part three

Pitfighter! Vi x Stripper! reader

Warnings: domestic bliss, career transitions, reader really pursuing her clinic, vi makes a “daycare”, healing their inner child, loris appearance, cuddling, happy ending, SHORT AS SHIT LMAOOOOOO

Genre: fluff

A/n: This is probably my favorite reader for vi besides intertwined, sewn together! As I write part three, I now see this should've been two parts, so I made it shorter!! However, I wanted to indulge in their happiness :3

1, 2, 3

───────┈ · ·

Vi took it to heart when I declared we're family. I mean she got us promise rings and matching bedside lamps cause we both have a bad habit of reading when we're supposed to be sleep.

There wasn't much to bring from her place to mine but I made space for her so she could feel as welcomed as possible!

Loris stops by routinely especially for dinner and it's kind of nice. We weren't cool at first because I felt that he enabled her drinking habits at first until we really sat down and talked.

Vi has been in her fixer-up mindset and made me a studying section. I've been pretty insecure with starting up my clinic, but she doesn't let me stay discourage. She bargained a spot for my practice. We noticed there was a spot available, so she started a daycare!

It starting to feel like we're becoming the parents and caregivers of Zaun. Vi gets so ecstatic about teaching kids how to defend themselves!

With both of us making transitions in our careers we left the pit-fighting and stripping alone. Although I do miss stripping, so I stop by to check on my girls and we have a pole in our bedroom.

Vi was walking around the pole when she moves to lean on me, "can you help me wash my hair please?" I turn my face to see her faded pink and black hair and hum in response.

Washing her hair with her has been therapeutic for the both of us. For me it shows that i can be gentle with someone and have the patience to take care of them. For Vi it shows that she can let her guard down again and be comforted by a lover.

Before bed every night no matter how the day went, we go up to our roof and look at the sky. It's not the prettiest view but it shows us that no matter what as long as we have each other we have peace.

───────┈ · ·

A/n: I tried to push through for y’all and myself because I been put it out there that there was gonna be a part three, but I’m not gon hold y’all that was tough to write I had no idea what to say😭 however I hope it don’t show too bad and that somebody enjoyed it! I’m never gonna push myself for completion again and let a story be so we won’t be in this situation again cause I want to be my best for y’all! Also I loved reading @luvrgrl07 comments for aome especially your comment on part two lol

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss @milanyas @highnfemme @5seos @artemisdreamfairie @ellabswife

Dividers- @dollywons

[wisteriaiswriting]

Spider-Pool meeting ATSV Villains

Words: 497

Request: Remember that spiderverse request with Male Reader being a Deadpool Spider-Man variant? Can you write another reaction to meeting him this time with 42 Miles, Olivia Octavis and The Spot Requested by: @ma1egamer

Has kinda become general headcanons + a blurb instead of just meeting

This man gets so annoyed at you so quickly. (Deadpool and Wolverine type relationship)

Won’t really enable you on whatever you do, but he won’t stop you that often.

He does have his limits though, where he will have to stop you, even bringing his uncle to help if needed. (Even if you have Deadpool’s regeneration, he will still panic sometimes)

Will deny it every time, but he is keeping constant surveillance on you wherever you go.

***

“¡¿Qué te pasa?!” “Well I–” “Cállate. Lo juro,” Taking a deep breath before continuing, “You’re lucky I was there to save your ass, who knows what they woulda’ down to ya.” Know leaning over your sitting figure, which didn’t deter you one bit. “So what I’m getting from this, is that you care about me?”

Leaning closer to him. He huffed, shoving your face away, sending you and the chair onto the floor.

Please just stay out of her lab, she cannot afford to have you break any of her things.

This woman is 100% enabling you, just don’t get majorly hurt otherwise she will not let you out for ages.

Don’t try to fight her after she made her decision, all your ‘hero’ duties are being put on hold for a while.

Definitely entertains your banter, to be honest she thrives on it.

***

You watched as Olivia typed away on her computer, but you were unable to get any closer to her. This was due to one of her tentacles or whatever they were actually called, holding you up in the air.

On a recent mission you were dumb enough to get injured but smart enough to visit her when they were all healed, but not smart enough to not brag about the fight. “Y/N, you did what?” “Who, me? I did absolutely nothing, how could you accuse me of anything!” Pausing your dramatics seeing her look at you, “So what, I got hurt but I’m fine. It’s all healed, it does–HEY!”

One of her tentacles of whatever she called them, had grabbed your ankle, hauling you into the air. “You can’t do this to me, Olivia!”

His dude cannot finish any jokes or punchines due to you either cutting him off or (Incorrectly) finishing them for him.

Gonna be honest here, He is so scared of you, especially if you still have Deadpool's swords.

And he's that clear, also letting you know that he doesn't really want to fight you, too scared to do it.

***

“Oh wow, this world's hero is more dangerous than– HEY!” Using his spots to move away from you just in time, one of your swords now wedged in the wall. “Stop doing that!” “Why would I?”

Watching The Spot get more frustrated, as he had to keep moving cause you didn’t let up. Which also meant you kept cutting off anything anything he said, “Fine then, I’ll go!” Finally pausing when the portal closed, “Fucking hell, what was wrong with that guy?”

[blazingblack-t]

I headcannon that Bruce was a prankster when he was younger and his pranks were either phycologically damaging since nobody could ever figure out who the hell did such a thing or if it was them and they just- genuinely- don't remember or they were some of the most tramautic, insane or borderline phycotic.

Like his first prank was hiding Thomas' socks at the age of 3. His second was pretending to be a Victorian ghost child on Alfreds first week there at the age of 5. Bruce was almost shot before, and after he told Alfred, it was just a prank. Bruce even moves furniture a little to the left when Kate comes over not all of it just some. Bruce's pranks only increase at boarding school he starts leaving tubes of glitter with the lid unscrewed just enough, so it would spill in people's backpacks specifically putting it in kids backpacks who he knows are girls or in art.

He doesn't stop with his pranks even dipping 100 dollar bills in alcohol putting them in the middle of hallways and proceeding to light them on fire with little poppers (which he'd get from ollie) he'd slingshot over while hidden. Then he'd laugh about how that person would scream and run away then he'd go collect his hundred dollars without a care in the world (hey he was rich not an idiot). He'd even just leave ravioli in front of kids doors early in the morning or leave a sandwich taped up on the ceiling which would mysteriously disappear when staff or students complained about the smell to a janitor.

This only escalated when he catfished a teacher and then sent Olliver on a blind date with a 'hot' chick, then he couldn't stop his craving for more. One of the most insane prank he'd pulled off was steal all a teachers clothes, leaving him only some dinosaur pjs with a note saying 'have a good day at school buttercup' in some other teachers writing (it'd been too simple to just well up some round fat tears and cry in front of the teacher and say 'can you write me a have a good day at school note? It's what my mom used to put in my lunches - until until-' then break out in tears).

His carziest pranks were just spreading rumors his best one was convincing the entire school that Oliver was pregnant he even offered Oliver peppermint tea, gave him a bit more food for a week in preparation for the prank, he touched Oliver's stomach more, and gave him gaucamole to eat so itd look like remants of vomit were on his mouth. Oliver himself didn't know the whole school thought he was pregnant until someone asked him if he was pregnant. Bruce laughed himself sick with that prank

He relentless pranks didn't even stop on his Batman training, although they became more subtle.

But each time, his pranks were made to make a person crazy trying to figure out if it was them or if it was someone else. Even his more phycotic pranks were just insane but never left a trace of who it was save for two or five. He loved those types of pranks he'd pulled far too many of those at galas when he was younger.

Then his pranks just stopped completely when he adopted Dick. He recognized he had to be a good influence on him and went cold turkey on the pranks. This went on for each of his children. Bruce didn't prank ever again, but he noticed his kids seemed awfully into pranking. Of course, he could always tell when they tried to prank him and give him gray hairs. Occasionally, he would pretend he fell for it if the prank was clever. But if it wasn't, he'd make someone else fall for it seamlessly or make sure there was a 'malfunction'. He noticed how Alfred enabled them, and he always squinted at him.

He ignored it for the most part it was easy to.

Then there's just a couple of things a couple of words, a couple of actions that are just enough to tip him over the edge, and send him back into his chaos gremlin prankster habits.

This leads to the wildest prank known to man orchestrated into something close to art close to a masterpiece.

No one is safe.

Ever.

Because now he is Vengeance.

[hpowellsmith]

Honor Bound Chapter 7 Update!

I’m delighted to share Honor Bound Chapter 7 on Dashingdon and itch! You can skip any number of chapters to start at the chapter of your choice, or you can play through the whole thing. You can try loading a save you made before this update, but you will probably need to start a fresh one. If you encounter a bug when using a loaded save, please try replaying through the whole thing or using the chapter-skip to replay the chapter in which you found the problem - in some cases this will fix it!

If you have a minute, I’d love to hear your feedback! As before, there is some feedback that I’m waiting until later to implement, and a minor character who hasn’t been added in yet, but I always pay attention to all feedback being sent in.

This new demo is around 306,000 words, with Chapter 7 and various edits adding around 43,000 words to the whole thing!

This is going to be the last chapter that I put up publicly before the beta testing begins. I may put up edits to Chapters 1-7 before then, and will implement bugfixes, but we’re getting towards the home stretch now and I’d like playtesters to have the experience of playing all the later chapters so they can have a big-picture perspective on how the branches can go.

In this chapter you will encounter:

a lot of bad things (more detailed content notes below)

As well as the new chapter, I’ve made some significant edits to earlier chapters in response to player feedback - more about that below too.

Many thanks to everyone for their feedback - it’s been so helpful! Thanks especially to an anonymous Patreon subscriber who gave some really useful comments about some Chapter 7 one-on-one scenes which inspired me to expand on them and include some extra characterful moments.

Read more about Honor Bound on the forum thread

Play the Honor Bound demo on dashingdon and itch

Give feedback

Wishlist on Steam

Revisions:

Overall:

More references to trauma responses when PC’s health is low, more reference to cane use, a bit more flavour text about the injury, more flavour text referring to health improvements to reflect the PC looking after themself

Chapters 5 and 6: added talk with Denario about the PC being trans if it didn’t happen in Chapter 3

General typo fixes

Chapter 4

expanded a branch of the late-chapter Korzha scene for more breathing room

Chapter 5

added option to medically assess Korzha when they look sick

minor expansion of conversation with Catarina about what she thinks about the trip

minor expansion of letter-writing with Fiore

Chapter 6

tweaked Alva’s assignment offer, with clearer information and potential disadvantages of taking it

expanded end of Savarel’s one-on-one scene

fixed an error making end of Korzha’s goodnight scene shorter than intended

added a choice to enable an amorous PC and Raffi to hide what’s going on from Simone

added optional one-on-one Denario scene, including optional sex scene

Chapter 7 content notes: earthquake, quicksand, fire, building collapse, potential severe injuries to the PC and others​