#the best thing about fanfic is you can ignore all the stupid parts of an episode

[zan0tix]

I yap so much about the comic and the importance i find in its contents but i hope when i write dirk or jake or rlly any of them it doesnt come off as me dumbing them down😭

I know the core internal mechanisms at which they all operate from otherwise i wouldnt understand why they even do what they do and why they speak how they do since that is so crucial to analysis of their behaviour and Why they were written.

But i mostly write silly scenarios so the deeper messier parts dont get to show much😭 working on deeper things tho rest assured i am locking in🫡🫡🫡

I try to match the tones of how i believe the characters would act continuing off the ending of homestuck. With dirk and jake specifically i try to write them to where they still both kinda dont say everything they need to but they dont have the weight of narrative destiny on their shoulders anymore so they can admit they like spending time together and have actually confessed like normal people and got out those apologies they kept yammering on about in the last half of act 6

I try to reinvoke the ridiculous nature of the one time we really see the real dirk and jake talk (which was actually a dreambubble memory. jake is so gay.) but i try to make it feel how that did, they really do love spending time together and just being weird and cringe and bantering about stupid shit ❤️(the most we see dirk type laugh in the comic)

(Always Highly recommend reading this log if you havent in a while. Its just such good writing theyre so funny) https://www.homestuck.com/story/4844

I feel like the Best Bros part of dirkjake kinda gets lost alot of the time considering THEY NEVER SPEAK DIRECTLY (which is insane that hussie could craft this universe bending gender norm shattering yaoi with no fucking interactions wtf anyway) but there is alot you can gleam from jakes interactions with hal and this one log to tell us how they usually speak

Dirk always veers into making homoerotic comments because.. i dunno he might have feelings for jake or something whos to say. and when jake presses him dirk immediately diverts. I think from being around dave and everything daves realised thats bullshit about masculine standards and heroism that let him have a healthier relationship to masculinity, hearing abt that would loosen dirk up about Actually being affectionate to jake

But hes still somehow trying to no homo his way out of things that are incredibly homo just in a subtler way, not immediately going “Haha, what? I never said that. Anyway.” (Its both out of his fear for what his true identity means about him as a man but also because he doesnt think he deserves to get such affections cough thinks himself an evil)

And jake was always going with the flow. If his friends socially decreed something as okay to talk about then the fucking damn burst open and he couldnt keep it in anymore but they had to Very Clearly Clarify with him about it. So i think dirk going down a more positive road would lead jake there too seeing that if its okay for dirk to be less restrictive with his feelings jake can be too.

The Epilogues has a highly specific premise and was being manned by caliborn and calliope 2.0 cranked to the max in the deranged fanfic behaviour so. Of course it would not be a healthy environment for characters to grow💀 anyone who takes it as full confirmation about how theyd act or become as adults and ignores the fact of its premise Being “Homestuck but Sick and Twisted; The Fanfiction” is kind of stupid its like saying homosuck was in character. Ofc everybodys lives goes to shit because the two running the show dont know how the hell to be good puppeteers 😭

Said it on twitter but you can tell how much a dirk hates himself based on his relationship to a jake. Because tho ult dirk wouldnt ever admit it jake is dirks anchor of self worth just as dirk is jakes. When they show compassion and kindness to one another its a step closer to self acceptance because Jake is quite frankly a living embodiment of EVERYTHING that is “wrong” (queer, cringe, sincere, feminine) about Dirk to himself in his saviour complex surrounding manhood. (See Everything caliborn says about jake) jakes always waiting for dirk. If dirk were to step down and admit his own humanity itd mean hed have to accept he is capable of growing and isnt inherently evil, and jake would be ready to embrace that about himself too

Anyway all that to say. Even in my simple silly writing i at least do try to retain dirk and jakes strange emotional dodging olympics but also its just on a smaller level since theyve inching their way to fully internalising that Its Okay to be Cringe and Gay Together❤️ because the World isnt Ending anymore. Its in the little things they dont say because haha im the one who makes them say words.

Dirk and jake hate themselves because theyre not men in the right way but their love is because of them not being men in the right way so.. nerm.. Whos flying the plane?

[coltermorning]

A Rival of Wills (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You have been stealing score after score out from under Arthur, reveling in annoying him to the best of your ability. Only, when you cut him out of yet another robbery and have him chase a false lead in the process, his anger finally boils over into something you didn’t suspect him capable of.

Author’s Notes: This was a fun request to write—love agitating Arthur to the best of my ability. Hope you enjoy and that I wrote a good balance of things ;) And let me know if you want a part two!

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, low honor Arthur Morgan, rough sex, bondage, spanking, NonCon

AO3 Link

~

A Rival of Wills

Word count: 6711

“Why don’t I tag along? Better yet, forget him and we can handle this no problem on our own, women only. What do you say?”

Karen and Tilly had found a lead. A damn good one with a good payout if their information was sound, and you weren’t about to miss out on it. More importantly, you weren’t about to let them take Arthur and not you.

They had just asked him for his aid, needing a sharpshooter to hang back and keep them safe at long range. While Arthur was a good enough shot, you were better. Especially at long range. And you took every opportunity you could to let him know so, no matter how much it got under his skin. Because of how much it got under his skin. You couldn’t help it—making the outlaw fume over taking his scores and outperforming him was just too easy. Plus, the more you proved yourself within the gang, the better. You would be asked to run every score with every no-good degenerate in this camp in no time.

“I don’t know…” Tilly said, trusting Arthur more for knowing him longer. You flashed her an incredulous look, placing your hands on your hips and cocking them.

“Come on,” you urged. “You’ve seen me shoot. And believe it or not, I can keep my head better than that big brute.”

Karen snorted with laughter. “That ain’t too hard.” She looked to Tilly. “She’s got a point. What do you say? Give a little credit to the women? Show these men just how much we don’t need ‘em?”

Tilly studied Karen a moment before waving her off. “Oh, all right. But I’m not telling Arthur he’s uninvited.” They both looked to you then, and you could feel the wicked grin split your face as your favorite activity was offered up on a silver platter—telling Arthur Morgan your talents had been chosen over his yet again.

“Don’t you worry a bit about that,” you assured them, your eyes finding Arthur across camp already tacking up his horse. “Meet you at the hitching posts in ten minutes.”

Karen and Tilly turned to go change into their fineries, chuckling all the while at your savage amusement.

After spinning a quick story to Bill about a coach that needed robbing, you sauntered over to Arthur, leaning against the hitching post his horse was tied to and clearing your throat to get his attention.

He ignored you for as long as he could until he had need of his mount’s bridle just behind you. He rounded on you. “What you want?” Annoyance lined his every word, making you smile.

“Seems there’s been a change of plans.”

He reached around you and yanked his bridle off the post, the movement forcing you out of the way. “What plans?”

“Don’t play coy, Morgan. It doesn’t suit you.” When he didn’t respond to your barb, continuing to ready his horse, you pushed. “I think you know exactly what plans I mean. Involving two beauties and the turning over of a large sum of wealth from the notorious McCullough family into our pockets. Correction, my pockets. Not yours.”

These last words caught his attention. He stopped fiddling with his horse, his hands stilling not with realization but with rage. He turned to you slowly, the sight a would-be intimidating one to lesser women than you. He met your gaze, the smile underneath them, and said lowly, “Surely you ain’t stupid enough to do this again.”

“Stupid isn’t the word I would use,” you replied, picking something out from under your thumbnail with a calmness that would rile him further.

Before you could blink, he was in your face, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You’re a goddamn parasite, and you’re a fool if you think they’d ever choose you before me. They didn’t, did they? Had to weasel your way in somehow-”

“Save it for someone who cares, Morgan,” you said, holding up a hand to silence him. You could see his frame nearly shake with anger at this, and you made yourself hold back a laugh lest he throw a tantrum so large it made you late for your appointment. “Whatever the circumstances before, they’ve changed. I’m in, you’re out. How’s that taste?” You winked and made to pass him. As you figured he would, he grabbed your arm and yanked you around. Only, just in time, he was interrupted.

“Morgan!” Bill said, drawing Arthur’s attention away. You slipped through his grasp, making way to your already saddled horse. You listened in on Bill asking Arthur to join him on a score you knew to be a false lead, smiling as you did. It was only when you were mounted up and waiting on the other women that you dared to look Arthur’s way. He was sitting on his horse, leveling you with a look so filled with hate you had to bite back another laugh. If he knew you had set up this little blindside, as it certainly seemed he did, he didn’t say a word about it as he turned to follow Bill out of camp, leaving your day wide open and rife with opportunity.

Soon enough, you were joined by Karen and Tilly, newly dressed and looking the part as they mounted up.

“How’d he take it?” Karen asked with amusement.

“About how you’d expect,” you replied. “Like a child.”

“Figures,” Tilly said, making you chuckle as the pair of them turned to lead you out of camp. You pulled your rifle out of its scabbard and loaded it as you went, kissing the wood grain after you did so, thanking your lucky stars for how the day was turning out.

After arriving at the secluded part of the road where Karen and Tilly would go to work, you picked a spot uphill and settled behind a large enough rock that would keep you hidden and allow for cover. You had already made them check to see that both of their hidden guns were loaded, checking your own sidearm in the process. No point in taking chances and messing up an easy score, especially one you had stolen right out from under another gang member.

Within minutes, Karen shot you a glance signaling the approach of the McCullough’s coach, and you hid farther behind your rock. You were still close enough to hear when Tilly’s voice split the air.

“‘Scuse me!” she called out. “Stop, please!”

And, right on cue, Karen began sobbing loud enough to be convincing.

“It’s dear Miss Franklin,” Tilly kept on. “She needs help and I…I didn’t know what else to do, where else to go-”

“Can I help you?” shouted someone from the approaching party, a man’s voice. You peeked around the rock’s edge as best you could without being seen, taking in the scene before you as you readied your gun. The coach had a driver and a lookout, both armed, and from what you could tell another guard inside. Three others rode beside the coach, the one in front seemingly the person who had spoken, as he pushed his horse forward and bent over slightly to check on Karen. “Miss?”

A woman’s voice rose out of the coach, saying, “Did she say Miss Franklin?” You smiled at Karen and Tilly’s cunning as the woman opened the door to the coach despite the protestations of the others inside, stepping down. “Abel Franklin’s daughter?”

And, like these had been the words they had decided on, Karen and Tilly pulled out their guns together and shot the nearest two men, signaling you to join in.

You set the next closest in your sights, the coach driver and lookout, and took them down with two quick shots. The third rider barely had time to round the coach before you mowed him down too. That left the coach passengers.

Based on the screaming coming from the coach, it seemed the woman had ducked down and gotten underneath it as the remaining passengers spilled out, all of them men. You were swift in deciphering the guard from the McCullough’s as you took down the former, letting Tilly and Karen surprise attack the latter and knock them out with guns to the head.

Watching to make sure no one else moved, you barreled down the hill to join them, noting the woman was indeed underneath the coach, still yelling for help. Karen grabbed her by her feet and dragged her out, proving difficult as she was putting up one hell of a fight. You got your rope out as you made your way over.

“Shut it before I put a bullet in you,” you snapped, bending to tie her hands behind her back. While she remained hysterical, this at least quieted her some.

“I don’t- Lilly-”

“Lilly ain’t here,” Karen interrupted. Word that the girl Karen had been impersonating was indeed a falsity sent the woman back into hysterics. She began yelling, louder than before, and you checked your surroundings to assure yourself no one was around to hear her before flipping her over.

“Was I not clear before? Shut the hell up and tell us where you’re hiding all your money before I kill you right here.”

Her eyes blew wide at the threat, but it didn’t do much to make her see sense. Instead, she formed the beginnings of a scream before you brought the stock of your gun down on her head. In a breath, she was quiet.

“Check her for valuables,” you ordered Karen. “Tilly, you check the two men. I’m gonna find this damn money.”

You rounded the coach and found no compartment on the back. You climbed under the coach instead just as the woman had, looking at its underbelly for lockboxes. There were none. You got back up and got in the coach, checking for loose boards, throwing decorative pillows out of the way and cursing the rich as you did. You were running short on time.

Sure enough, just as you found a way to raise the seat, Karen called out to you. “Riders coming! You done in there yet?”

You grabbed the heaviest lockbox you had ever put your hands on and yanked, nearly stumbling with its weight as you scrambled out of the coach.

“Hey!” one of the riders yelled, spurring his horse to catch up to you. On cue, you pulled your gun and joined Karen and Tilly in shooting at him and his friend. Within moments, they were both shot down, and you called for your horse.

Karen turned to you. “What about the box?”

“Mount up and get out of here before anyone else shows,” you ordered. “We can open it back at camp.”

“Whatever you say boss,” she replied with a grin that you returned.

“Come on, Karen,” Tilly said, running for it. And, when your horse appeared over the hill and made way toward you, you followed. You lugged the lockbox up and over as you swung into the saddle, wondering what on earth could be so heavy inside and praying like hell this had all been worth it. You took one last look at the scene behind you, knowing it could have gone better but that you would get by unscathed—especially as you hadn’t killed any McCulloughs. Seeing that no one followed, you kicked your horse up and rode over the hill.

After riding sporadically enough to lose any trail, you made way to camp, slowing your horse down and calming it with a loving pat. You set the box down in the saddle in front of you, its weight dropping like a stone. Just to be sure you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself in front of the whole camp, you got your knife out and jimmied the lock, opening the lid. What was inside made your mouth fall open before you laughed aloud, closing the box and pushing on into camp with even more confidence than before.

“What’s the take?” Karen asked you loud enough to draw the attention of a few camp members.

“Why don’t you come have a look?” you responded, wanting everyone to know how well of a job the three of you had done.

You hitched your horse and brought the lockbox over to the table in the middle of camp, setting it down with a loud thud. To your delight, Dutch and Hosea made their way over; this box would skyrocket your chances at being in their good graces.

You leaned on the table and looked to Karen and Tilly. “Who wants to do the honors?”

Not wasting a second, Tilly stepped forward and pried open the lid, revealing two solid gold bars and a laughably large amount of cash.

“Well would you look at that,” Dutch said, his greedy smile spreading. “Good work you three.” He never took his eyes off the gold as he spoke.

“How much?” Hosea asked.

You considered. “About $3000, depending on what we can get for the gold.”

“Oh, very good,” he responded. “Very good indeed. John! Where’s John?”

“Here,” John answered, as most of the camp had come over to have a look.

“Take this gold and find a fence to sell it to.” Hosea handed the unwieldy bars to him as he addressed you and Karen and Tilly. “And you three—nice work. Take your winnings. You earned it.”

You grinned at Karen as Tilly pulled the cash out, divvying it out to you both and taking some for herself. Just as you made to put it in your bag, your success making you giddy, you heard hoofbeats. You turned to see Bill and Arthur riding back in, the latter leveling you with a gaze so filled with wrath it could rival the devil’s.

“Where you two been?” Dutch asked, hoping for another successful score. Unfortunately, he would be sorely disappointed.

Arthur swung a leg over the horn of his saddle and dropped to the ground with a nasty fervor, never taking his burning gaze off you. It was Bill who spoke first. “Got tipped off about a coach that didn’t exist. What the hell kind of lead was that?” he asked you, getting off his horse and storming over. Arthur followed behind with an unusual quietness, one that filled you with uneasiness. No matter Bill’s anger, it was suddenly Arthur you felt need to worry about. You had never seen him so quietly enraged, like a snake poised to strike.

Bill got in your face. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

“Guess I was wrong,” you spat at him, slow to take your eyes off Arthur. “Faulty lead. Sorry.”

“Oh, ain’t that mighty of you? Leading us on a wild goose chase while you go get rich!” So he had known about the women’s plan. You smiled at him and crossed your arms.

“My fault.”

“Your fault,” Bill repeated. “Damn right it’s your fault!”

“Leave it, Bill,” Karen said, coming to your aid. “Ain’t like it hasn’t happened before.”

Hosea chuckled. “She’s right about that.”

When Bill turned on the others instead, you took the opportunity and excused yourself, making way to your tent. Only, it took all of three steps for a certain rage-filled outlaw to catch your arm.

“How much?” You looked to Arthur, to that burning hate in his eyes, and leveled him with your laziest smile.

“How much what?”

“Money. How much did you con me out of?”

“Hmm. Five hundred or so.” And when his eyes widened, “But that look on your face? Priceless.”

“You listen to me,” he growled, pulling you closer. “I don’t know why you insist on taking these scores out from under me, but you find your own damn scores and your own damn gang to steal them from because it ain’t gonna be from me anymore.”

“Is that so?”

He slung your arm away. “Yes, it is. Now stay the hell out of my business.” He turned to storm away.

“And when your own gang starts preferring my company to yours?”

He stopped. You thought he would turn, give some sort of retort. Instead, he sat there, his anger eating him alive before he walked away without another word. You knew then you had truly touched a nerve—he never backed down from a fight. Not unless he knew defeat was inevitable. You chuckled at the sight of his retreating back, wondering how far you had to push a man before he broke.

~

You woke up late that night needing to relieve yourself, half asleep as you stumbled through the woods south of camp. With the darkness of a cloud-covered night and your half-closed eyes, you went too far to the right and ran into the lake. You backtracked up the wooded hill, being a bit too loud and hoping whoever was on guard duty didn’t think you an intruder.

You found a well-hidden spot and went about your business, too tired to react quickly enough when you heard the sudden sound of footsteps. You yanked your pants back up and pulled your gun, whipping around and wishing you had adjusted to the lack of light better when you couldn’t find the source of the noise.

“Who’s there?” you called out.

“You goddamn- why are you always causing me grief?” This coming from Arthur, the man feet away from you and lowering his gun.

“Christ, don’t sneak up on a woman like that,” you chided, your heart racing from the dispelled threat.

“What the hell are you doing? I didn’t think anything of all the noise until you started circling the camp like a drunken fool.”

You were not in the mood for this. For anything, really, apart from sleep. “I couldn’t see where I- you know what? Forget it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice oozing sarcasm. “Now that I’m the one annoying you it’s intolerable, is it?”

“I said drop it, Morgan. Go back to guard duty or whatever the hell it is you’re doing.”

He scoffed. “How about you do me a favor and get the hell out of here? Out of camp, out of this gang, out of the goddamn state if that’s what it takes because in case you ain’t noticed, we don’t want you here.”

Bitterness lined his every word and, like it was contagious, took root within you so deep you clenched your teeth to keep from putting a bullet in him. “It’s you that don’t want me here,” you spat, taking a step closer. “In case you ain’t noticed, all those friends of yours do, and better yet, they don’t want you here, speaking for them, bossing them around, giving all of us grief for no good reason.”

He approached you, trying to intimidate you, still with that gun in his hands. “You better shut your damn mouth with all that.”

“Or what? You won’t do a damn thing, you-”

He threw his gun down and closed the space between you, and from the fire in his eye and the grimace on his face you had half a thought that he was going to hit you before he grabbed your hand, wrestling the gun out of it instead.

“Hey!” you yelled as he threw it on the ground, wrestling your knife away from you too, leaving you unarmed.

He towered over you and got in your face. “Won’t do a damn thing, will I?” he said before ducking his head and grabbing you around the waist, throwing you over his shoulder.

“Hey! Let me go you bastard!” You kicked and flailed, trying anything to loosen his grip as he started walking you away from camp. It was no use—your only means of besting him had just been tossed to the forest floor. You kicked and scratched at him, but he was wearing a thick coat that didn’t allow for much damage. He was still wearing his other weapons, and you tried to reach for his knife but found your reach to be inches too short as you huffed in frustration. “Let me go!”

“No,” he shouted, bringing his other hand up to keep you steady as you were flailing so much he almost lost his grip. “Stop moving!”

“Put me down! I’ll beat the shit out of you!”

He barked a laugh, the sound sharp in the night. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Put me down and I will you son of a bitch!”

At that request, he tossed you like you were no more than a sack of flour, making you hit the ground hard and bite your tongue in the process. You grunted in pain, blood filling your mouth. You looked up at him, at his grim satisfaction, and lost it.

“I’m gonna kill you!” you screamed, charging him. His expression hardened into that familiar anger as you collided with him. He remained steady and flung you off like it was nothing, making you stumble to the ground. He was on you in a second, finding your wrists and grabbing them, trapping your hands. You spat at him instead with your blood-filled mouth and used your knee, aiming for his balls. He dodged the blow just in time, your knee hitting his thigh. He pinned your legs down with his own, leaving you truly trapped.

“Get off of me,” you spat, his body weight so heavy it hurt.

“Not a chance.”

“Get off you no-good piece of-”

“Do yourself a favor and don’t finish that sentence.”

“You’re just full of empty threats, ain’t you?” you spat. “Not like you can do much else beyond beat me senseless. You gonna do that, Morgan? Would that fill the hole your uselessness digs? Make you feel big?”

Finally, his anger seemed to get the better of him. Before you had time to speak again, he pushed up and flipped you over, shoving your face in the dirt as he grabbed your hands and pulled them behind you.

“What are you-”

“Shut your damn mouth,” he growled, and you soon felt rope being tied around your hands, binding them together.

“Stop it,” you yelled, trying to kick and wiggle free once more. Only, your movement was cut short when he put his hands on your waist and yanked your still-unbuttoned pants down. “Arthur!” you chided, unbelieving what he was doing.

Your bare backside was met with a slap so harsh you cried out at the impact.

“Don’t you ever call me useless again,” he spat before spanking you again, harder, making you cry out all the louder. “Don’t ever steal a score from me again.” You strained against your bindings, but it was no use. He hit you a third time, his strength enough to make tears prick your eyes. “Don’t ever think about disrespecting me, fighting me, anything again unless you want more of this.” And, after one final slap against your stinging skin, you gave in.

“All right! Fine, Arthur, stop!” He stilled above you, and you tried to turn your head to see why. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him staring at his hand, holding it up in the darkness.

“What are you doing?”

His gaze fell on you and turned feral, the scowl beneath it worse. “Why’s my hand wet?”

Your head spun with confusion. “What?”

“You like me spanking you? You that sick in the head?”

This was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. “Excuse me?”

He suddenly reached for you, his hand slipping lower than your backside, low enough that you sucked in a breath as you felt what he was talking about—you were wet, your body disobeying your want to throttle him, your pure hatred for him. “Do that again and lose your hand,” you snapped.

“I don’t think so,” he growled. And with that he moved, yanking your pants down lower.

“Arthur,” you warned as he sat up, unbuttoning his own. “Don’t.”

His expression darkened, like that brutal anger of his had fled and arousal had taken its place.

“Maybe this’ll shut you up,” he mumbled. “Make you mind me.” You felt him shift above you, removing his gun belt and satchel.

“I ain’t- I’m not-” Words failed you. You couldn’t believe he was doing this. Worse still, that some small part of you must have wanted him to, because you couldn’t find the words to make him stop. Didn’t want to.

“Why don’t you be good for me and keep quiet for once in your damn life?” he said, crawling back over you like an animal. “Or I can always make you.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, your words coming back.

“The second option, then,” he said, fumbling with something out of your line of sight before stuffing it in your mouth—his bandana. You tried to spit it out but couldn’t, not with your hands still tied behind your back. You yelled out, but the sound came out muffled—it was no use.

Without warning, you felt his manhood slide against the inside of your thigh, making your eyes flutter shut. An unwelcome bolt of arousal shot through you. You wanted to fight and should have at least tried, but as the head of his cock met your entrance, his own groan rent the air, and something about it made you taut with need.

He made an impatient noise, the sound right next to your ear as he had settled himself flush against your back. “Knew you wanted this.” You let out a noise that was meant to be a helpless whimper but was more needy than anything.

Like the sound spurred him on, Arthur pushed into you, stretching you wide enough for your toes to curl in your boots. You wanted to moan but held your tongue, needing him to know you were still defying him, still mad as a hornet. Then he started to move, and you lost yourself.

The sound of him pushing into you again and again was accented by the brushing together of your clothes, by his body meeting yours, by his own arousal spilling from his lips. It was stirring your body into a bundle of feeling so tight you would soon explode from it. Not to mention he was splitting you, sliding in so deep your eyes had rolled back in your head. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing you were enjoying this though, and that meant one dreadful thing—you couldn’t find your pleasure. It would give you away.

You hadn’t had that thought for two seconds before he said lowly, “Christ you’re tight. Such a little whore, taking me so well.” You clenched around him, unable to stop yourself. He noticed. “That’s what I thought,” he said through a chuckle. “You like this, don’t you? Like me fucking you, girl?”

When you didn’t respond, his hand met your ass and squeezed. A small moan fell from your lips.

“So it was my hands on your ass, then. You liked me spanking you.” You still didn’t respond, and Arthur ripped the bandana from your mouth. “Answer me.”

You sucked in a breath, the fresh air welcome. All thought of yelling out was long gone as he fucked you deep and slow. “I-” You winced, him hitting you in a place that made your whole body tense.

He laughed. “Not so argumentative now are you? How about I make you find your pleasure, keep you compliant?”

“I won’t,” you responded, your defiance still finding a way across your tongue.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, slipping out of you. You held back a whine for the loss of feeling and turned to see what he would do. The sight of his manhood all covered in your slick did things to you you didn’t want to think about. He grabbed your hips and pulled you toward him so that you were on your knees, your ass in the air. He pulled your pants all the way off, tossing them aside. As your hands were still tied behind you, you couldn’t support yourself, and your face stayed pressed against the dirt. Without an ounce of hesitation, Arthur pushed into you again but stilled as he bottomed out. He let out a low groan, and it took everything you had not to join him in it—this angle was sinful. It nearly hurt it was so pleasure-filled. But he still didn’t move, his hesitation making you meet his eye out of the corner of your own. He looked at your ass, at where he had buried himself within you, and spanked you hard.

“Arthur.” You meant to sound chiding but only managed to sound needy instead.

“You love that, don’t you?” he said with a smugness you couldn’t stand. “Love taking my cock, getting spanked like a whore.”

“Shut it,” you snapped, his words driving you wild.

He spanked you again, and you tightened around him this time, feeling once more just how deep he was seated within you. You cursed, losing all patience. He grabbed your hips and pulled all the way out before slamming into you, making you moan louder than you had yet, louder than you would for any man. He began pounding into you, his pace building and building until you were sure he was going to rip your orgasm from you, take it just like he had taken you so forcefully.

As he continued to bury himself in you, he spanked you hard, forcing another moan to spill from your lips. You could feel your slick start to slide down your inner thigh. Maybe you did have a thing for that particular abuse—your body certainly responded to it. In fact, you felt your core tighten beyond the point of your ability to control it and knew, no matter how much you held yourself back, this man would force an orgasm from you eventually. So why hold back at all?

When he was fucking you hard enough to be considered abuse, you gave into him. And christ was it worth it. Your whole body tensed with pleasure as your high raced toward you.

“That’s it. Easy girl,” he said lowly, and for some reason it was your undoing. This man you hated, despised, only wanted to render obsolete, had somehow made you needy for his praise. Perhaps it had something to do with what he was doing to you, how roughly he was doing it, for within seconds you were moaning your pleasure. You came hard, wishing you had your hands so you could bite down on your knuckles, because you felt a pleasure so intense it rocked through your whole body—it made you weak and strong and complete and undone all at once. And damn Arthur Morgan for being the one to do it to you.

“Good girl,” he said, his smile cutting through his words. “Doing what I say ain’t so bad, is it?” He slowed and stilled, pulling out of you. He tugged at your arm and pulled you on your side. You looked up at him, such a sight all angry and smug as he was, heaving in breaths and fully erect.

“You’re mighty pleased with yourself for being such an idiot.”

His expression hardened as he pulled out his knife. “Seems you still ain’t learned your lesson.” You had a brief moment of panic before he set the knife to the ropes binding your arms.

“And you ain’t gonna be the one to teach it to me.”

“That so?” he asked, sitting back, pulling the knife away.

“I got what I wanted out of this. Don’t have to play by your rules no more.”

“Thought you might say that,” he quipped, rising to stand. He picked you up like you weighed nothing, turning you so that you faced him, your chest trapped against his, his straining cock caught between you, your legs dangling. You could have wrapped them around his waist but wouldn’t—that would be admitting defeat. He stepped forward until you felt your back hit a tree, the impact of it hurting slightly with the way your hands were still tied behind you. Now you knew why he had wanted to undo them. He flashed you an evil grin you wanted to slap right off his face.

“Undo the ropes,” you ordered.

“No.” And without warning, he knelt and pushed into you, began fucking you against the tree slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. Each thrust made your hands scrape against the tree bark behind you, the pain of it mixing with the pleasure he pulled from you once more.

“Wipe that fucking smirk off your face-”

“Or what?” he quipped. “You won’t do shit. Admit it, you wanted this. Wanted me to fuck you hard, make you mind me.”

His words made your blood boil, mainly because he was right about one thing—you couldn’t do a thing about it. So, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer and making his angle within you pure ecstasy once more. You used the only thing you had left to wield against him: your words.

“I won’t ever mind you, Morgan. No one will.” His head had fallen back in pleasure when you’d wrapped your legs around him, but saying this made his attention snap to you.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he asked, his words lined with hate. “I have you right where I want you. And every time you try and defy me, this is all you’re gonna get,” he said, still thrusting into you. “This, and an ass so red from me whipping the hide off it you won’t sit a horse for days.”

As much as you should have fought against it, you knew part of you wanted that. Why? Why? You should have been angry, livid at him for doing this to you. You should be fighting and kicking and scratching until he bled beneath your fingers. But you weren’t. And that made you all the madder.

“You try this again, Morgan, and I’ll gut you before you so much as lay a hand on me.”

“You won’t,” he chuckled.

“I will,” you hissed. “Because this is just your ego, proving you can’t stand me getting the upper hand over and over again.”

He grimaced, pushing you harder against the tree, his pace becoming brutal. “You ain’t got the upper hand,” he said through labored breathing, looking down to where your bodies met.

“And this is the only way you’ll ever get it, huh? Can’t best me any other way, so you have to fuck me with my damn hands tied behind my back-”

“Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he growled.

“I don’t,” you shot back. “I told you, I already got what I wanted.”

He laughed then, a bitter sound. He slowed and leaned back, forcing his hand between you and down to your clit. It took everything in you to hold back a gasping breath at the contact, at how your nerves lit on fire with his touch. “Greedy little thing,” he said lowly before beginning to circle his thumb. “Tell you what, I’m gonna make you come on my cock a second time, and I’m gonna fill you up when you do.”

“Don’t,” you answered, full defiance.

“If that’s what it takes,” he said, his words trailing off through his pleasure. And with this, his pace picked back up, his finger on you making you squirm. You couldn’t stop him—your tied hands were useless, not to mention damn near bleeding from grating against the tree. But that pain somehow shot your pleasure even higher, your release nearing as he pounded into you, no mercy.

“Don’t,” you repeated, a breathless sound. A needy sound. No matter how much you said it, it wouldn’t convince you. Your mind repeated the opposite—do, do, do.

“I’m-” He never got to hear what you were. Instead, your release barreled through you, making your pleasure spill from you lips in the form of a moan so feminine you wanted to take it back. But you couldn’t, damn him, because he was showing you the best pleasure you had ever known, and your body gave into him with every continued thrust.

“That’s what I thought,” he said through a huffing breath before he stilled and groaned aloud, shooting his spend into you. The feeling turned you on so much you shivered, part of you delighting in it.

You both came down, breaths heavy, savoring your pleasure a moment before your anger took over, his pride.

“Fuck you,” you spat. “Let me down.”

He just chuckled, stepping back and giving you your legs. Your feet hit the ground and nearly gave. You tried your best to hide how shaky you were, how thoroughly he had worked you over.

“Get this rope off me.”

He just flashed you a smirk, continuing to button his pants. He turned to get his things, like he hadn’t just ravaged you, like this was the most amusing thing in the world.

“Morgan, I swear,” you threatened.

He put his gun belt back on and turned to you. “Look at you.” You were sure you were quite the sight, pants long gone, your slick and his spend dripping down your thighs, hands tied behind your back. “Nah. I’m gonna leave you here to figure this out on your own.”

The amusement on his face was filling you with fury. “You better get these ropes off me now, or I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” He pulled a cigarette out of his satchel and lit it, taking a drag. “Walk back into camp after me like that? Show everyone just what I done to you?” Heat crossed your face at the thought. “Nah,” he repeated. “Think of it as a…reminder. Of what that nasty ego will get you.” He flashed you a dark look as you considered him doing this to you a second time. You wouldn’t let that happen. No matter how much you may have wanted it.

You leveled him with a sneer, not deigning that with a response. He simply chuckled and shook his head, turning to walk back to camp. You saw the cigarette smoke billowing past him and shot daggers in his back as he went.

“I like the sound of that,” he said into the night, never turning. “Peace and quiet.”

You remembered your knife and gun on the ground, noting he walked toward them to pick up his own longarm but left yours, walking in the other direction. It was a good thing, too. Because not only would you use that knife to get out of your bonds, but you also had half a mind to bury it in his back the next time you got the chance. After all that he had done, after making you feel things for him you despised, it was only fair.

You watched Arthur Morgan walk away and, for the first time since joining this gang, doubted yourself. You doubted whether you could fight him off if this happened again. Doubted whether you could resist him. Because suddenly, things weren’t so black and white where he was concerned—outdoing him and enjoying doing so wasn’t at the forefront anymore. What the two of you had just done was. And it was confusing and intriguing and infuriating all at once. Damn the man for that.

When he was finally far enough away, you made for your weapons, found a way to cut through your ropes, and got redressed. It was only when you were put back together that you headed back to camp with your tail between your legs for the first time in your life, for the shame you felt over giving in to him. Despite being put back together, you had never felt so undone in your life. And worse still, you loved it. You grumbled curses under your breath as you laid back down to let sleep overtake you, feeling the ache in your body from his abuse, and vowed then and there that you would get him back for this. No matter if it took fucking him senseless in retaliation to do it.

_________

Part two is here.

[iris-sistibly]

The Targ Talk: House of the Dragon S2

Episode 2 commentary:

I have to say, this is by far the best performance I have seen from the cast members! Everyone was so good, I was blown away by their acting. The actors have gotten so much better in season 1, looking forward for more of these in the next episodes.

Aegon is distraught, angry, and broken understandably because he lost his own son, him declaring war against the blacks was a bit late though because it has already begun the moment Otto and Alicent usurped Rhaenyra's throne. Again, Aegon is just a pawn in this game, and that the children--his and Rhaenyra's are the collateral damages. I do like that part of him of still trying to protect Jaehaerys even in death (him not wanting to parade his dead son's body), and his guts to remove Otto as hand. I'm not exactly sure however if Aegon resents Helaena or if the reason why he ignored her was that he couldn't face her after failing to protect her and the babies. I mean, when he went berserk and started accusing and questioning everyone else, but perhaps deep inside he too felt guilty because he was drinking his ass off that night. Maybe a bit of both? But my delulu self is leaning towards the latter just because I have read too many Helaegon fanfics. Too many.

I must say though that it was incredibly stupid to choose Crispy Cole as the new hand. This motherfucker doesn't give a shit about anything else other than killing Rhaenyra for killing his ego...I mean, can this dude get any more pathetic? He has the audacity to call out Ser Arryk for his filthy cloak and lecture him about all these bullshit that I didn't even listen to (at least not that much), yet he's way filthier than the whores of the brothels. But, y'all should seriously stop posting hate comments on Fabien's ig.

I cannot stand Otto's bullshits this episode. Upon Lucerys' death, I'm guessing that the commonfolk probably felt bad for Nyra and to make sure that they earn their sympathy, he took the opportunity to make Rhaenyra look like a murderer, and by forcing a funeral procession, let everyone see Jaehaerys' dead body despite his parents' disapproval thus gaining support from the public. He doesn't care about the boy, or any of his family members really.

The confrontation scene between Daemon and Rhaenyra was intense. Love every bit of Matt and Emma's performances, in the book it states that they were targeting Aegon (some say), but the dude had kingsguards with him wherever he goes, so Blood and Cheese went for the "easier target" aka Helaena and her three young children. Daemon wanted to inflict the worst pain to the Greens in retaliation, but I don't think Rhaenyra ever confronted her husband with the death of Jaehaerys because she was blinded by her grief and anger (so did Aegon).

I still refuse to believe that it wasn't Aemond's intention to kill Luke. All those years of pent up anger just exploded, oh and he was never bullied by the Velaryon/Strong brothers in the book, Alicent's boys resented their nephews because they stole what they believed was their birthright, the iron throne. Hence they have always been rivals, and Aemond has always hated the boys even before this chaos began. Aegon even praised Aemond for what he did to Luke.

Ser Erryk being loyal to Rhaenyra until the end 😭

Helaena is grieving for her son's death, and Alicent is more concerned about her getting caught by the former banging her bodyguard. Then she sees Aegon being miserable, and she feels bad for him but she needs some Crispy Creme that night so she just let her kids mourn on their own (I mean I know hugging isn't really a thing in their family, but at least be there you know). She also feels bad and guilty for what happened but, she has other ✨priorities✨.

Hoping for more Jacaela moments [at least] before Jace dies, I wish they also showed more of Rhaena grieving for Luke. Also, it's about time they introduce Daeron Targaryen.

I missed seeing Seasmoke, in contrast with the book, Laenor didn't actually die so some are speculating that he might return this season. What do you think?

Oh, and hello to Alyn and Addam of Hull ❤️❤️

[aveline-amelia]

This might get me cancelled, but idc, so...

Fanfiction is supposed to be transgressive. It is supposed to be about looking at something and saying "I could go somewhere interesting with that", "That was stupid, I could fix that", "I can make that better", "I can make that happen", "I can make them fall in love", "I can make them happy".

It's why one of my fandoms had about 30% more works shipping the main character with her (male) best friend as opposed to the guy she marries in the show. People looked at it and said "That isn't right. This is better". So they made it themselves.

But guess what? Shipping her or just liking her more with her love interest was still more popular amongst more casual audiences. And the fanon shippers were surprised by this!

It's why I am baffled by the things I see stated online.

People thinking that there being more fanfiction about a particular ship means more people ship it, as if one fan writes a fic each and then leaves and as if there are no people who ship it and just don't write fic? Because they are not writers?

People being surprised that main characters are shipped with other main characters more as opposed to a character that appears in one episode.

People being surprised that people can believe a character is straight in canon and still enjoy fanon slash ships where he's shipped with other men.

Of course there will always be more M/M works than M/F works. We have enough heterosexuality in media already and as for F/F, while queer women do write F/F fanfic, there aren't that many queer women in the world statistically as opposed to straight women and even if fandom has a larger number of queer women than average, queer women write M/M works too.

You can believe this is Problematic, but guess what, back then, we were all freaks and weirdos. People would share links on obscure websites because they were scared of being sued. Professional writers would purge all their fanfiction and pray to god no one ever finds out. And if you wrote gay fanfiction? Good luck being taken seriously anywhere.

We went from "ship and let ship" and "don't like don't read" to "supporting this platonic surrogate father-son bond makes you a bigot because the father figure once made an ignorant comment" and "it's problematic to ship the hero with the villain because the hero is scared of him".

Fandom stopped being about Liking and Enjoying things and started being about Fighting People and Proving You're Right and Your Ship is Better. Because if you don't become canon, if you don't Win, what is even the point?

Of course it will be like that, when you tell people shipping something is Activism and not shipping something makes them a Bad Person and shipping something you morally disagree with makes them a Bad Person and more importantly makes you a Good Person for fighting the important battle of stopping people from imagining two imaginary people kissing in their heads.

Shipping is a feeling. Sometimes it's "I ship this, hehehe." Sometimes its "Oh no, I ship this and I wish I didn't." Sometimes it's "I wish I shipped this but I can't." It's supposed to be fun and not a form of mental torture.

It's not a choice. It's not writing fanfiction or making fanart, that comes later, but it's not even a requirement. You can write fanfiction for something you don't even ship! You can write fanfiction for shows you didn't even watch!

And shipping something doesn't make you Better or Worse.

Ship shaming doesn't stop people from shipping something, it only has the potential to make them feel worse for something they, for the most part, can't control. And when the person in question is a literal teenager who also self-harms, it certainly has no potential to do anyone any good.

And it's why when the proshippers see a person like that, a person like them, they welcome them in. "You're with us now. It's your ship. Own it. Come join us." Because they have experienced the same thing and they know they would want someone to stand up for them, too. They won't let you feel as if you're alone. Because you're not and you never will be. You have a community, you just need to look for it and find it.

It's what made me realize that the antis were the bullies. Also, the antis were a bunch of teenagers too, who thought they were doing important activism by yelling at people in caps lock.

So get off your high horse. It's not that serious. Stop talking about it like it's life or death and maybe you will feel better.

It worked for me.

I want the same for you.

And I swear, if someone here starts with "But what about-" No. Let me stop you right there.

[lavenderwhirls]

Winner Chapter 1

(No, Dr. Keh doesn't know the ovenist's name)

__________________

Dr. Keh ___________________

There was a lot of things Dr. Keh shouldn't have done that day. He shouldn't have driven his sister to a party at 1 AM while suffering from four hours of sleep and a headache. He shouldn't have gone to get one of those terrible at best pizzas (he was hungry) and he shouldn't have eavesdropped. He also shouldn't have gotten riled up, especially considering how tired he was.

Memories of getting upset at the wrong person. His name dragged through the mud, and his sister's too. Calm. Go back to the table and eat this garbage pizza and pretend you never heard anything-

And then the pretty girl-the new ovenist in town-started joining in on the conversation and Dr. Keh's resolve to keep quiet died. Everyone backed away when he approached except the new girl and one of her friends-who was trying to get the pretty girl to leave. The pretty girl ignored her friend.

"You don't know what you're talking about, especially when it comes to making pizzas" was a horrible opening, especially from one ovenist to another-of course she knew what she was talking about, she made her own pizzas-but Dr. Keh used it anyway.

The pretty girl was willing to fight back, and there was something in Dr. Keh that welcomed the challenge. He must be more tired than he realized.

"What in the world are you talking about? I own my own pizza restaurant, buttface." The pretty girl said.

"Pfft. Everyone in this pizza-obsessed does. Them, their friend, their grandmother. That doesn't mean they know what they're doing." Dr. Keh said. Which is true, for the most part. He's only exaggerating slightly.

"What's your criteria, then?" The pretty girl asked. There's a light in her eyes, like she wants to know so she can say she already fits the criteria.

Dr. Keh doesn't want to let her fit it, doesn't want her to have this victory. So he talks about fame and trophies-which he has plenty of. And she doesn't.

"Your criteria is stupid." The pretty girl says.

This girl was testing his patience. Thankfully, however, she'd also given him a great opportunity for a clever comeback.

"You're just jealous." Dr. Keh smirks.

"Jealous! Why'd I be jealous of you?" There's something in the pretty girl's tone that implies that she thinks it's utterly ludicrous to be jealous of him, and Dr. Keh doesn't know how it makes him feel.

Before he knows it he's ranting, about all the competitions he's won and his experience and-

The pretty girl looks bored.

"Oh, shut up and go to the questionare competition with me." The pretty girl interrupts.

"What?" Dr. Keh hadn't expected that response.

"Prove that you're as skilled as you claim. You've spent a whole ten minutes talking about all the competitions you've won-surely it'd be easy to beat me in a game of pizza questionare."

Dr. Keh did a double take.

It'd been years since anyone played pizza questionare with him. Or even wanted to. His sister would play with him, sometimes, but it wasn't something she enjoyed and he'd always had to bribe her.

It almost felt like dream come true, having someone willingly challenge him-

The pretty girl's friends had pulled her aside (Dr. Keh could still hear them fine, though) and were trying to convince her not to play with him, because he always won. No point in playing.

Guess he wasn't going to play, then. But then the pretty girl was pushing her friends away and demanding an answer. Would he play pizza questionare with her? "Yes."

Looks like it wasn't a mistake to come to the party this time. (Author's note: Pizza questionare is a game I made up for the sake of the fanfic. It's only played at the place where Dr. Keh and the ovenist currently are at. The rules are that each person answers a question about pizza. First person who can't answer the question is out).

(Alani is the person in charge of the pizza questionare)

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

Time skip-the ovenist and Dr. Keh have signed up for the pizza questionare

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

It'd been a long while since Dr. Keh had played Pizza questionare, yet clearly Alani still remembered the competitions he'd been in. She'd looked exhausted.

She'd also started immediately with the really hard questions, instead of doing the easy ones. Dr. Keh knew she did that so his competitor would answer wrong early so Alani didn't have to keep the competition going for a long time.

Surprisingly, the pretty girl hadn't looked phased, even when Alani started asking questions from exclusive rare pizza books. And the pretty girl just kept on answering the questions correctly. Each and every single one.

It was rare that Dr. Keh ever played against someone this good. It was invigorating, having to strain to remember the answer to the next question. Remembering pieces of trivia he'd never used.

It wasn't supposed to feel this good. He loved pizza questionare, but the fun was knowing he'd crush his opponent easily. The one time it'd been a challenge it'd been stressful, and that person had been in the business for years, unlike the pretty girl-

Dr. Keh couldn't loose to an ovenist who'd been in the business for two months. He couldn't. The pretty girl answered another question correctly with a bored look on her face.

Suddenly the fun was gone.

Alani looked more and more miserable the longer the competition went on. Eventually her face twisted up, and she asked the most ludicrous question Dr. Keh had ever heard. What happened to poop if someone ate a radioactive pizza with fungus on it? What kind of question was that?

Dr. Keh didn't know the answer, and he'd expected the pretty girl to not know it either. But then the pretty girl started talking-Dr. Keh admired her ability to tell several long stories about poop with a straight face. Alani was still for a few seconds. Then she said 'correct' and started all but throwing the trophy at the pretty girl.

He'd lost. He'd lost pizza questionare. Dr. Keh was more surprised at the fact that he lost because of a question about radioactive poop of all things than the fact that he lost.

Is it worth it to start studying poop just so he can win next time? No.

Dr. Keh really should do something other than stare, or say something to the pretty girl who was the first one to beat him. But then Alani started kicking them both out of the store, saying it was closing time.

Dr. Keh was positive that Alani was just trying to not deal with another competition, and was surprised to see that it actually was 6 AM.

Dr. Keh heard a voice behind him-his sister, asking him to drive. The fact that Dr Keh hadn't slept for over 24 hours suddenly him and he demanded that his sister drive instead.

____________________

It's only after Dr. Keh has slept for a few hours that a few facts really hit him.

(A) he'd lost pizza questionare for the first time

(B) he'd lost to an ovenist who was open for only two months

(C) the pretty girl had an accent from his former hometown, Winner City.

The final question😭

[beanghostprincess]

I think the reason people ignore Usopp is because he is unconventionally looking (like you said) but also just because he is black. You can see that in a lot of fandoms. People think of the worst excuses to justify not having to ship or think about certain characters. Their favorite one is the „token straight“ excuse. Fandoms will say „Oh this character is straight and I don’t really care about straight ships“ or they’ll use a canon love interest as a shield and say „But this character is already together with someone, you could never break them up!“ (they pretend to like that ship but will only talk about it when they see other ships with that character).

For Usopp it’s Kaya. People use her to claim Usopp is straight and in a relationship, but when has that stopped shippers before?

I actually like Usopp and Kaya together but it’s the best example I could think of. It just annoys me that Usopp has a great dynamic with almost all of the strawhats but is pushed into the little brother/bestfriend role when better looking characters would have hundreds of fanfics written about them.

(Sorry if this is incoherent, I just wanted to know your thoughts but you can ignore this if you want)

I agree wholeheartedly with you. I wrote this post a few minutes ago about this in case you're interested:

And yeah, I agree that a big part of the reason why he's underrated is because he's black. And the whole thing about him and Kaya is so stupid because, as you said, that has never stopped people before. They just use it as an excuse.

[suffersinfandom]

I was going to make some embarrassing, fluffy New Year post about how grateful I am for OFMD and this fandom and how cool it is to be here and participating for the first time ever (I mean, I made some goofy meme edits for BSG and Star Wars, but I sure as heck wasn’t brave enough to share actual thoughts). I was going to type about how awesome and smart and funny so many of the people I follow here are and how much I love all of the meta and art and fanfic, and I was going to go on about how important OFMD is to me and how much it’s brightened up my life.

But then I logged on and remembered how flawed this fandom is, too. It makes me sad to see all of the insults and personal attacks in a fandom that is -- or at least claims to be -- more queer and more accepting and more invested in kindness and goodness than any other I’ve come across. 

There’s the block button, I know (believe me, I use it every time I come across someone who goes on about how abusive Ed is because I absolutely won’t entertain that), but the hostility runs deep and blocking alone isn’t fixing anything. People act like the mere existence of interpretations that contradict their own are direct attacks on their character, and they retaliate by calling people idiots with zero reading comprehension and abuse apologists and cruel sadists who wouldn’t know suffering if it bit them on the dick and so on. It’s not enough to disagree; we have to tear people down and insult them and make everyone angrier by showing our followers strawman arguments being tossed around by ~the other side~. 

Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely abhorrent takes that demonstrate, at best, ignorance on the part of the person making it. We should call those out! 

Idk, I just wish we could have discussions and disagreements without attacking actual human people. Like, I love it when people engage with things they don’t agree with in good faith and pick apart arguments and make new points. I even love passive-aggressive indirect responses to bad takes. Those can be very fun and, tbh, it’s not a fandom without a little pettiness, as a treat.

But it sucks to scroll around and see people in your fandom throwing out very personal insults and attacking others for interpreting things differently or thinking a fake guy is a piece of shit, y’know? I want better for us. We deserve better. 

Also, just to be clear, this isn’t in response to anything specific, okay? I was just generally set off when I scrolled through the OFMD tag today and saw yet another “well, if you don’t see things the way I do, you’re a stupid piece of shit who loves abuse” post from someone I hadn’t gotten around to blocking yet. Not to get personal, but as someone who was regularly called an abusive, stupid piece of shit by someone who was genuinely abusing me when I had the nerve to challenge them, that kind of thing can be legit triggering if it hits at the wrong time.

Also also: I do feel all of those things that I mentioned in the first paragraph! I’m so grateful for OFMD and the fans of it! There are so many brilliant and talented people around here, and I know I wouldn’t be as bummed about the unsavory parts of OFMD fandom if I didn’t love it so much as a whole. 

[madame-fear]

Amira! i'm so sorry to hear about the anon hate you received, they can go fuck themselves and their stupid worthless life!! 🫂 This also reminded me that i saw someone that had copied one of your fics and had a very similar format/style to it and at the moment i didn't realise it reminded me of one of your fics until now, but if i find it i'll tell you. Again, please take care of yourself and ignore all the hate comments, you deserve the best and i hope ure okay🙏😿

~ 🎃 spice anon

Hellooooo Pumpkin nonnie! Thank you so so much for all your kind words and message, seriously 🥺💗

I'm luckily alright! It really doesn't affect me all those hateful anons, but I think they should be less cowards and tell me all they think about me without being on anonymous mode, no? 😅

Anyways, thank you for telling me about the copying fanfic thing. I wasn't really aware though I am only aware about some plagiarism issues that has been lately going on! Unfortunately these people lack creativity. 😩🔫 I will try to find it myself but if you find it beforehand I'll be grateful if you sent it to me!

Once again: Thank you thank you thank youuu for all the sweet things you guys wish to me, I'm trult happy to have you be all part of my community 🫂🥰💕💕💖💖💕💕💟💗💝💞💕

[oldcoyote]

> finding out there are discord servers to hate on people (very paraphrased lol)

im???? that is buckwild what! i don’t think i will ever understand people hating a random internet stranger (or really, anyone) who hasn’t done anything bad and putting all their energy into it?? like there are so many things you can choose to do (especially if youre not disabled!) and you chose…. shitting on someone for no good reason. absolutely wild. (tbh id still be weirded out if they had done something bad but maybe to a lesser degree - still weird to be putting your ‘fun’ time into that kinda thing)

to some degree i can understand hating on a character - not to the extent that your entire blog/fandom experience is that, but i definitely used the “lol [character]” tags in the glee days for the ones i did not enjoy. but never for the actor ! man idk. it just seems so weird to me that people choose to exist in cesspits of hate when theres so much enjoyment & joy to be found by… not doing that. even just mediocre okayness/being content. it just makes you grumpy and bitter & stressed about your (innocuous) actions and its so weird.

i stepped away from fandom after i fell out of love with glee & the fandom and have only ever sat on the fringes of very few since (torchwood my beloved) because it just… doesnt look fun anymore. the earlier bit of glee was fun, people were enjoying things & it was fresh and shiny. not for long necessarily, but still. now everything seems to be… ‘why this character is Terrible’ and just so many rules about fiction that doesn’t actually impact irl.

(i found out about proshippers/antis the other week and im still baffled and bewildered at the idea you cant create vaguely ‘problematic’ fanfic (or actual fic) without being called a nonce. so that’s probably impacting my response to your discovery. ridiculous.)

honestly, i think there are genuinely people who get a lot of fun out of their hatred, who enjoy the thrill of superiority they feel when they tear someone down, and the validation they feel when others agree with them in their hatred - otherwise discord servers and forums like this would never exist in the first place

the state of fandom now has me much the same, i've long since pulled away from it all and now i just see the discourse pass me by on my feed and try to ignore the stupidity of it all. the conflicts are all so old we've done all of this before time and time again, history repeats. i've been in fandom since i was in single digits, since the 80s, and it's never been as bad as it is now - which is heartbreaking. it was the best part of my life for so long and now it's just - gone. which has left a horrible hole, one that i cannot seem to find anything to fill

[toonlegion]

I don't always agree with Nerdrotic, he can tend to just hate things instantly but I have been monitoring how works in Hollywood are going lately and this pretty much tracks from following reports I've heard. This D.E.I mess is getting out of hand. It should be a choice to include diversity in your works, not an obligation, and you sure as heck shouldn't be hired just based solely on your skin color, gender and sexuality.

Yes it nice you wanna give others a fair shake, but extremely unwise to shun writers with plenty of experience with people who've yet to prove themselves. Theres a reason writers use a round-robin system for this. Plus like Tyrone said, this is feeling very smothering to boot. In fact, I told a friend of mine it reminded me of that old South Park ep with Nurse Gollum where the town tried to celebrate her, but got the point of being very uncomfortable with it since they keep focusing on the dead fetus on her head that she eventually told them off when she couldn't take it anymore. This feels very similar but on a larger scale. Wanting to be sympathetic but eventually going overboard. Goes without saying, but people want to be entertained, not lectured.

And these practices feel so...cartoony it 's hard to believe. I legit fell ill at the part of "not reading the source material to make something for modern audiences". Okay just ALL THE NO on that. I don't mind a different interpretation but you do your work a disservice by not at least getting a grasp on what the story or how a character should be portrayed, if nothing else to at least give you a general idea TO make it your own. Yes going blind can work sometime, but that's a very narrow 50/50 chance. Heck I want to do a version of Dracula down the line for a comic that'll be different from the source material. It'll make some changes, but it'll still respect what came before and use what was written to expand on certain things. The main reason being graphic novels have done the comic justice so that can afford a different interpretation. But otherwise the story will still be similar AND respectful to the source. And I will have the novel on hand to help that along the way.

From what I'm hearing these idiots act all proud became "Oh it was my version and not what came before". People would KILL for the chance to do a film or TV adaptation of certain works and these people are squandering it for fanfic versions of these stories without even knowing the full context when they could make timeless definitive versions. Hey fun fact, did you know the director of the second Star Trek movie didn't know a thing about the franchise going in? You know what he did, WATCHED THE SERIES OVER A WEEKEND TO GET AN IDEA FOR THE CHARACTERS! And what happened? One of the best Star Trek films in the franchise. So no that is nothing to be proud of, its just laziness.

And then there's this "Male and Pale is Stale" creed. I was taught to just make good characters in general regardless of gender. But this is what they're peddling to potential writers these days (at the time of this writing)? Why? No one was oppressing anyone up to this point concerning that, if anything it's healthy to have variety on both genders (hell even moreso with non-binaries) take the lead. But these social media nuts (particularly around Twitter) decided we need more of an influx of females and ethnicities all of a sudden? Also ignoring that many people are still white skin regardless of nationality making that ceed extra stupid. I don't get it, we had a good thing before that was balanced and focused with your own choice how the character should be, now it just this messy blob of forced templates that can't tell its left from its right and the stories and characters suffer because of it. It's just frustrating to view.

Again I'm not against diversity but I'm not foreign to it either, I grew up on plenty of shows that had it and did it in a much more tactful and graceful way that was by the creator design, not forced, and were still very entertaining. That era had plenty of fairness to it, so I don't know why that same curtesy can't be used for today. If it's to right some slight in the past, then sure but there's the saying "Two wrongs don't make a right". From where I'm seeing in this current age, the so called "oppressed" have become the the oppressors themselves and don't even realize it and media is suffering for it. And as a creative myself who would love to get his work to that mainstream someday, that's just disappointing to see.

[zumpietoo]

Gee, Snorty....that IS petty, but not “delightfully” so....just snidely, juvenilely and pathetically soo....seriously, that embodies “dog in the manger”......

And, LBR, the reason is supremely simple (and immature) selfish, “If I can’t get my way, nobody can”, etc....

And, again, I hate Barfie, I’m quite confident they won’t be endgame....but I’m similarly confident Jabi will be....and Jizzy definitely won’t be....

Ummm.....so, again, you actually have no issue with Jabi, even think we’re fine, etc....buuuut....you still want them split because it would piss off Barfies? Who we hate, too? Gross.

Also, not like they’re Jughead fans or ever were.....they, like you in shipping VD, only support it cuz they think if the person is “taken care of” and ignore that still doesn’t remotely guarantee their ship.....

No, dude, even with the trailer flipping them off, all you Jizzy/VD stans have been completely delusional and endlessly insisting you’d get your way.....oh when you are screaming raged fueled rants at RAS. etc....

Bottom line: Barfies are assholes, so are you. But at least Barfies do currently have a canon ship. You do not and never will again....

Oh good lord, again, “save the writing”----dude, it’s a fucking goofy TeeVee show, in its final season. Irrelevant....and completely incorrect. Actually, that isn’t remotely Barfie, nor is either “safe”, considering what they actually are together are icky, fascist elitists....

Jug doesn’t “use”Tabitha, the entire reason they work is because she actually gets him and loves him....and doesn’t take credit for his accomplishments or him for granted. And you could maybe argue this was Tabs in mid season five (tho I’d moar say she simply saw in him what he really was and looked past the booze, inspiring him to become that person again)....and NONE of these things are remotely bad things, anyway....or, actually, “safe”. Jizzy, in fact, were toxic and her “love” nearly destroyed him.

Being your best selves isn’t the “safe” choice, it’s the positive choice....

Sense to YOU, a biased shipper who seems to not actually watch the show....

A) Douchie doesn’t have a “hero complex”, he’s a dick who likes attention/again, credit for the accomplishments of others (it’s actually something he shares with Slizzy)....and, again, a fascist thug.

B) Slizzy seemingly has and has moved past that. Also, turns out her “darkness” is a combo of sexual impulsivity and, again, a fascist, jackbooted thug.

C) Jug’s already “grappled” with that.....Slizzy’s and Douchie’s betrayal was why and he’s been clean and sober for quite some time. Part of what helped was somebody actually caring about him and putting him first for once.

D) Tabi has that, as well....and her plot was never, exclusively about being Jughead’s GF.....tho, at least you’re a Slizzystan who actually admits that was why Erinn was cast. However, the one defining her thusly is your racist ass.

Ummm....this is YOUR version and what you’re saying is, “anything but my fanfic”, which is bullshit....and typical GG bullshit at that.

And, again, you clearly don’t actually watch, noobie sock....

Ummm.....

Love how you’re not only a stupid, lying, noobie sock, STILL, Snorty....buuutttm you’re, once again, a disgustingly racist one. At least your juvenile anon is only somewhat so, versus your raging version....

Also....

Ummm....no, they aren’t....other than the actors want to work again. And only Cole’s being classy about shit, per usual. And you’ve already been outed as a Cole hater (and hating Erinn, cuz racist cuntbag)----also, then that should apply to the showrunners, even if you disagree....and, maybe accept you aren’t getting your fucking way.

[broken-everlark]

I feel bad because I always get off so late and I'm also slow asf with trying to respond and trying to put my words correctly.

You're not leaning toward one side, I honestly completely get what you're saying. Just everything offends everyone nowadays. I just want to enjoy my ships dammit. That's all. I don't hate anyone based on race or sexuality. I base them off their personality. If they are terrible people, you won't be hated based on your race or sexuality. It'll be by how you treat others. It's as simple as that. But people take it as, oh, you're homophobic or racist since you don't like them being bisexual. No, I just don't understand how tagging them as bisexual will help my fanfic. Like, I don't understand. When it's going to be wyler. No matter what in my fics. I'm not going to add a random ass character for one of them to be interested in because why? Why? I just don't understand anymore. I can have them be straight. That's fine. Everyone else can see them as bi. Good for them. But everyone is villianizing one over the other nowadays, and it's getting ridiculous. I hate losing friends over things that mean so little in normal life. I don't see race. I don't see sexuality. All I see is how they treat other people and the respect they give or don't give. Because I was raised to give EVERYONE respect and treat EVERYONE how I'd like to be treated.

Weyler got as toxic as Marvel fandom. About the same stuff. Except I shipped stony and a straight ship that I can't remember which one it was. Literally had people get mad at me for shipping a gay ship and then also shipping a straight one. Saying I'm not allowed to. Like wtf. Then, on wyler, I shipped too many straight ships, apparently even tho with Bianca and Lucas. I do see Bianca as bisexual. But I'm done defending myself. I just want to read Fanfic & talk about wyler, that's all.

Yeah, they liked me at first, then when I simply said my opinion, they got mad about it and called me all the names in the book. And that was just earlier this year. My depression hit me hard again, and I just.. never felt so low in my entire life and hated myself so much. It was.. really bad. I just hate being in fandoms now. I hated how they acted to be nice to me and then turned immediately so easily. But yeah, I'm really glad I got out of that fandom. I'd get very angry and upset, and that's not okay. It's just nice to finally have someone who understands.

Oh, exactly. She definitely will notice when she does something thar affects him. Like you said, biting her lip. Or maybe how she dresses (in her uniform, it sorta has a skirt) she'd definitely notice if he was checking her out. But Tyler may catch her checking him out. One of these days, we'll definitely have to private message each other and rewatch the show or just message each other about things we notice lmao.

Joel, being the stalker was a popular theory, but idk if it still is. People just wanted to guess about the stalker. That or Vincent - Xaviers dad.

Oh, definitely, the best part about Xavier is the fact that he's the most disliked character, even by the show, like he's ignored by Wednesday. Or how Wednesday constantly picks Tyler over him. Or you know.. when she got him arrested, she didn't feel bad or care. It's the best thing ever how she never lets him through her walls/defenses. It's the best part.

In nature, usually, it is the male animals parading around for the female. Specifically with birds and definitely Peacocks is a good example. Usually, in nature, like you said, male peacocks have very bright and colorful feathers to attract females. Same with male cardinals, they are usually bright red while females are brown-red, most male birds are bright & colorful. I like that you referred it to Peacocks because that's honestly what i was thinking. I love that it's sorta reversed, not because I'm a girl and I, the stupid independence they force on shows nowadays that is just cringey. (I don't like using that word, but that's the only word for it) I love women's independence, but don't force it like Jenna is trying to do with Wednesday. Because it usually is shown by making men weaker or whimpy. When you can make women independent without hating on men. But again, that's a different conversation 🤣

It needs to be said more that she definitely was dancing for him. Only him. Because her eyes never left him. His eyes never left her, and definitely A+ for effort on trying to copy her mating dance lmao. It reminds me o HTTYD 3 (I'm not a fan of that movie, I personally prefer the first 2.) it does remind me of when Toothless was doing all the different mating dances to try and attract the female but failed hilariously. At least Tyler tried and sorta did good. A for effort.

The people who say Wednesday didn't want to be at the dance, and she only went for Enid need to leave because they are living in a delusional world. She went to please her friend but left right when Tyler showed up, and I definitely think it was a plan between Thing & Enid. Because Thing bought the dress & made sure Tyler was coming, all he needed was to make sure Wednesday would come. Which Enid made sure of. So definitely best friend moment and Thing- Enid schemes 🤣 I love telling wenclairs this because then they have no argument left.

Or the fact that Wednesday was ready to ditch when she realized Tyler wanted to dance and actually wanted to do this. Then, she ditched her plans, Eugene, for Tyler. Like CMON, whether Wednesday or Wenclairs want to admit it Wednesday was hooked on Tyler.

I definitely think she confided in Xavier about her mother. But Xavier is the piece of shit that he is. Used that against her. It hurts even more knowing that, and I still don't understand how people like them together. Or like Xavier in the slightest when he has so much stuff against him.

I want them to explore how Donovan and Fran met and their relationship. I want flashbacks or maybe just Donovan telling his son what happened to Fran and how she spiraled and how he was desperate to help her. I need to rewatch the show, but I guarantee I saw him still have his wedding ring on. I can't remember, tho. Donovan is definitely complex. He's was scared Tyler was too much like Fran. He had her personality, and now he knows that he was fully like her. With the Hyde. And now, with the final battle, he learned that his son is the Hyde, and I know damn good and well he'll go ballistic when he finds out what Laurel did to him. Since I know Tyler didn't tell him about her or didn't feel like Donovan would listen.

I'm praying Tyler gets redeemed and Donovan tries to fix their relationship. Even going against the police department to search for his son and make sure he's safe. Knowing that's all that matters to him.

Hunter & Jamie did a fantastic job, and I can't wait to see more because it'll definitely be emotional and heartbreaking. Yes, I do feel like Jenna was right about a few things but not about the romance. A psychotic serial killing monster is right up Wednesday's alley. And I hate when Jenna says Wednesday never had a love interest like GIRL. you obviously didn't watch the 91 movie. Or how she'll contradict herself and say "oh Wednesday doesn't need love. Or the love triangle was weak. " But then turn around and say "oh I think wenclair has potential" like I love Jenna but bitch HOW🤣 How?!

I can agree with her about the love triangle, Wednesday & Xavier side is nonexistent. Wyler was the main focus, and so was petroclair. So wenclair, how is that the main ship? I'm probably coming back to our earlier conversation. Is it because it's between a man and a woman? I feel like since it's 2023, they are mad that it's a man and a woman. Or apparently, Wednesday is a queer icon... when has she ever been a queer icon? Just because a few "fans" say so? When tf has she ever been a queer icon? Like, did I miss something?

Exactly. I remember being a fandom, and the fans were so toxic that they forced one of the actors to come out as gay. (He is gay), but the fans don't need to know, and it's information he's allowed to keep to himself or release to his friends and family. Fans have no right to know about their private lives. But fans get so toxic and will get mad when the actor isn't the sexuality they want or get mad that the actor isn't with another actor. Like Emma & Jenna get effected by this the most. Their wenclair fans literally have NO chill. Literally, I read a post of a fan that said "oh look how Emma is so jealous at Hunter and Jenna" or "I bet Jenna wishes Emma was holding her in her arms like that." LIKE WTF. Never ship actors unless they are actually dating (because yes, there are sometimes actors who date), but Emma and Jenna are not that. It's disgusting how people ship them, especially them only being 20. One person on Twitter or X said, "i can't believe jenna is smoking." Leave them alone. They are 20. Let them live their lives and figure their lives out. I'm the same age as them, and I can't even fathom the stress they probably go through with fans. Kinda like millie Bobbie Brown when she got so sexualized at the age of 16. It's disgusting. And now she's older and it's worse. I feel so bad for her.

Sorry, I probably should re-read my replies because I'm not good with words, so it's most likely coming off very... offensive when I'm not meaning it that way.

Can we talk about how Wednesday was in the most none triangle love triangle ever? Like, Wednesday and Tyler were doing their own thing meanwhile Xavier was just kind of there. Now if Wednesday liked Xavier too that would be a proper triangle, but that’s not what played out. She was always upfront with him that she was there for Tyler. He was just guy on the side who had a thing for a girl who’s into someone else. It was never a triangle. It almost confuses why anyone calls it a triangle at all.

[datawyrms]

Prove it with one hand behind your back

Dannymay day 12: Gloves There is reference to the events in Hypothesis, but can be read stand alone. Now Ao3′d “Uhhh, Danny?” Jazz called up the stairs, laundry basket under her arm.

“What? I’ll get my stuff when it’s dry!” Her brother yelled back down, apparently not interested in leaving his room so they could speak semi-normally.

“Normally it would be my duty as your sister to throw your wash on the floor. Were you aware your laundry is glowing?”

Her frazzled brother appeared at the stairs then, taking them two at a time. “Geeze Jazz, tell the whole neighborhood why don’t ya?” he hissed as he passed.

“Mom and Dad aren’t here, and you’re welcome.”

“Obviously. Jerk.” he made an exaggerated frown at her before ducking into the washer, dragging out handfuls of the expected tee-shirts and jeans followed by an impressive amount of mismatched lightly glowing gloves.

“You’re taking trophies now?” she raised an eyebrow, unsure what to make of it. Not a single one had a pair, and none of them were even his ghost form’s hazmat gloves. Quite a few of them looked rather elaborate, some very interesting embroidered patterns making it obviously not something of her brother’s making. Delicacy was not his strong suit.

“Huh? No! These are-” he paused, taking a breath as he covered the glowing handwear with several shirts. “You remember that whole Sam got dragged to the ghost zone because Aragon’s an idiot thing?”

“The self important dragon shapeshifter with some serious hangups and anger issues?”

“Yeah, that one.” he nodded, rubbing at his chin. “Did I mention Dora sort of knighted us for helping drive him out of power?”

“No, but I’m pretty used to you leaving out important details by now.” Jazz smirked as her little brother rolled his eyes.

“It was nice of her and all but apparently they have a sort of tradition in her Kingdom? Where to show you’re worthy of joining the Queen’s guard you challenge one of the newest knights to a duel.” Danny paused to fish out one of the gloves. “Giving over a glove is basically how they ask for that duel. All very formal, I’d write it down if I could explain how I know without completely blowing my cover.”

“So you’ve got a bunch of medieval ghosts throwing gloves at you and wanting to duel...and you decided to wash them. At home.” Jazz crossed her arms. “Seriously?’

“Where else was I gonna do it? I thought they’d make decent proof so show Dad ghosts have society and rules.” He paused, throwing the glowing thing back under his regular clothes. “Then I remembered there’s no way I could explain how I got these. So now they’ll just smell nice in Sam’s closet or something.”

“Your closet a little too risky this time?”

“Nope. All of these belong to Sam. She’s the one getting all the challenges, not me.” he glanced down at his basket. “I think she named some of these.”

“It’s it a little unfair for a ghost to fight a human? That goes against the whole honourable and fair thing it seems to be going for.”

The half ghost grinned. “That’s what they think! Challenged gets to set the rules, and it turns out ghost knights are really, really bad at adjusting to ground only combat.”

Jazz blinked, the part that had been bothering her clicking into place. “Wait, so there’s that many because you’re still the newest knights?”

“Wasted every single challenger. I keep trying to convince them they’ll have a better shot against me, but noooo, they insist on trying to best the ‘breathing banshee’.” he shrugs. “Most of em would absolutely wreck me in a proper fight, I don’t usually need to fight ‘fair’ or anything.”

“So why don’t they go after Tucker? Getting all the way out here for a tradition can’t be easy.”

“He still insists he’s Friar Tuck. You don’t swordfight the clergy. None of them have actually called him on it, so maybe he is?” his brow furrowed, thinking on that. “Maybe I should ask Dora that sometime. Find out if we need to worry about some ghost pope later. Would not want to be the guy who punched the dragon queen’s ghost pope.”

Jazz couldn’t suppress a snort, easily able to picture such a mishap. “A year ago if you said that I’d say you should be committed. Now I’m just nodding along.”

“Even if you were saying it now, I’d get out.” A wicked grin accompanied a flash of green eyes.

“Very funny, dork.” Still, the idea was worth thinking about. “Well I can see why you wanted to try using them as proof.” The project was rather important to Danny, seeing as it was his best shot to get their parents to re-evaluate their ‘ghosts are mindless’ stance. “Maybe you could get Tucker to film a fight? Sam keeping ‘contaminated’ gloves wouldn’t seem that weird, and the variety can prove it’s not just one ghost mindlessly repeating the same behaviour.”

“I’d still be stuck explaining how Sam became ‘Sir Manson’ in the ghost zone. Which seems like a disaster waiting to happen.” his shoulders sagged. “They’ll think I made it up or Tucker did some video editing.”

“I still think it’s worth trying. Sam’s got a rich family, you could probably think up an excuse that she’s practically ‘royalty’ and that’s why they come.”

“Eh. Maybe. Don’t tell Sam but I’m giving the challengers tips now. The sooner they stop coming, the sooner I can stop getting all antsy about a ghost attack where I find out it’s another steel welding glove thrower.”

Jazz set her shoulders, determined to get some of that humour back in her dispirited sibling. “Use that. They owe you if you help them out, don’t they?”

“Well, I guess they do. Like I’ve had them tell me stories about what it’s like for them, if they remember stuff or have always been ghosts, they’re pretty chatty to a ‘fellow of the sword’...but it’s all stuff I write down. I can’t prove a ghost told me. I can’t film it, or have Dad listen in. The second they call me ‘Sir Phantom’ I’m toast.”

“He said he’d at least listen to what you found, right? It can be a starting point, and if you have some really specific detail it’s less likely that you made the whole thing up.” she stopped to ruffle his hair. “That, and if you were going to make something up, you’d have some star ghosts or ecto-aliens.”

“I would not!”

“Yes you would. And you’d draw them little space ships and everything.”

“...Okay maybe I’d make up some ships.”

“A lot of ships. With long complicated names. With scientific reasons for those names. Cus your my dorky little brother.”

“Well you’re my nagging big sister. You get to be the black hole equivalent.” 

“Just don’t give up on the idea so quickly, okay? It’s a good one, and it really can’t hurt too much to try.”

A small smile returned as he elbowed her “Careful, or they’ll think you’re being influenced by ghosts too.”

“It’s not like their theories can have any more concrete proof than yours does. What are they?”

“Dad thinks ectoplasm naturally ‘homes in’ on stuff over here, and that’s how they’re finding the portal.” he closes his eyes, foot kicking at the floor. “He’s got this box thing? A lot of box things with different kinds of ectoplasm to see if they move towards ‘our world’ over time. I keep forgetting it’s floating right next to the portal and almost kick it.” his face turns into a grimace. “Dad thinks ‘that ghost kid’ is messing with his experiment on purpose now, so that sucks.”

“Well you could mess with it on purpose, that would be intelligent.”

“Nope. That would be the ‘natural aggressive action’ towards human materials. Tried it.”

“What’s mom’s hypothesis then?”

“That the portal always being here makes this part of Earth more ectoplasm rich so they’re drawn to enter here instead.” he waves a hand. “She’s half right? I don’t think strong ghosts can go all that long without ducking back home to recharge. She’s using the frequency of ‘higher level’ ghosts as proof that they ‘need’ a certain level to function outside of the ghost zone.”

“Another theory you’re accidentally stomping all over.”

“Since they almost never spot ‘Phantom’ going back to the Zone, yeah. I apparently account for ninety four percent of all ghost sightings. Yet only three percent of that is being spotted outside of a fight. Which sounds really bad! No wonder they think I only think about fighting other ghosts.” he rubbed at the back of his head. “I think she plans to test that by uh. Sticking a ghost in a place with no ectoplasm to see how long they hold out, if at all. So I’ve kinda been...making sure she can’t do that.” he swallows, his glance towards his sister more timid than anything. “It'd be a really, really nasty way to die. From what I heard.”

“Good for you. She’ll thank you once you prove that sort of thing would be unethical.”

His frown didn’t move. “If I prove it. So far I’ve just proven they really don’t like that ghost kid.”

“From what I’ve heard you’re the one with the most solid proof. Once you’ve shown everything you’ve collected, then you could try convincing them to see for themselves you aren’t making it up.” Jazz urged, not wanting to watch her little brother give up again.

“Even if I could convince Dad to come in the specter speeder with me we’d scare most ghosts off. The ones we don’t might want to beat me up, or not use a name I can’t explain away.”

“Sam gets to set when one of those challenges happens right? Invite him to one of those.”

He blinked. “...I guess that might work. If Sam made it clear that they couldn’t say my name under any circumstances. There’s one lady who keeps coming, insists she’s going to be the one to get to succeed after ‘Slapping Sir Manson with her glove’, she might be down for that…” he caught the weird look Jazz was giving him. “Oh. Apparently if you’re rivals hitting the person with your glove is ‘provoking your betters’ into a fight? So it’s a respect thing? I don’t really get it. Sam thinks it’s great, which I didn’t see coming but I didn’t think we’d still be having ghost knight fights either.” he let out a breath. “I’m rambling again.”

“You know, if Mom and Dad could see how you talk about this stuff they’d know you aren’t making it up. Looks like ghost research does run in the family.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I’m a ghost hunter if anything. It’s just nice being able to chat instead of fight sometimes. The ghost zone is pretty neat. If you know, half the stuff in there wasn’t trying to skin me alive.”

“I still think you have a good shot. You know it’s true, so they’ll have to see it given enough time.”

“Maybe. Can’t really talk about this stuff to them though. Gee dad, how do I know about Frostbite? Well when I stole the Ecto-Skeleton and shoved back Pariah Dark this whole tribe of yetis decided I was their Great One. So now we’re pals. Oh what’s that dad, you say the ghost kid did that? Funny thing!” he dropped his arms with a scowl. “That’d go over like a lead balloon.”

“Maybe stick to the dragon queen society for now. It’s not like anyone over here saw that. Then you can expand into the rest of the friendly areas.” she put a hand on his shoulder. “One step at a time Danny, you’ll get there.”

“I hope so. If it doesn’t, I blame you if I’m torn molecule by molecule.”

“Ew Danny! Don’t be so morbid, it’s not good for your development.”

“Is it morbid if I’m dead?” he winced from his sister’s whack to the head. “Ow! Half!”

“Better. Now scram with all those gloves before someone thinks you robbed a ghost antique boutique.”

“You’re such a busybody Jazz.” the half ghost teased before darting off with his half spectral laundry. It wouldn’t be an easy thing to convince their parents, but he did seem to be on the right track. So of course it was her job to make sure he stuck to it. Siblings had to look out for each other, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[twisted-tales-told]

how does one go about binding books? it sems so interesting and im just wondering if i ever want to prints fics yk

also picturess

FINALLY SOMEONE ASKING ME ABOUT BOOKBINDING. I have all this knowledge and no one ever asks. I LIVE for bookbinding. I picked up my phone to see this after bookbinding for the past hour.

So: here you go:)  A guide.

*This is specifically for fanfiction, if anyone has any questions about making journals etc. I can answer those too :) 

Before we start, here’s a start to finish actually binding it tutorial This Man Must Be Protected At All Costs. We don’t deserve him. He talks you through putting the book together really well.

I’m putting the rest below the cut because I’m nice. (there’s pretty + useful pictures there) 

Some Bookbinding language: 

Signatures. Signatures are the lil groups of paper u bind with. They’re usually grouped into four UNLESS you’re using water colour paper or cardstock. (Just in case someone reading this knows absolutely nothing about paper, don’t use either of those for your fanfic pages you’ll hate yourself and the final product.) (ignore the ice cube tray in the background, its my paint pallet. Don’t judge me. 

Book Press: A thing used to press the signatures. Mine is so gross and destroyed I refuse to show it, you can make one out of cutting boards.

Bone Folder: yes, it is made out of bone. Yes you can choose to find a plastic or wooden one. I personally have terrible sensory issues when it comes to paper so I need to use one made out of bone. They’re used to fold the signatures. 

*You don’t actually need one if you have a book press, cuz the signatures get flattened in there anyways, but your hands will hurt a bit after all the folding if you don’t use one. Or, at least mine do.They look like this.

Kettle Stitch :This is, in my opinion, the superior binding method for fanfiction. It’s simple, it’s easy to learn, and its great for actually reading cuz the spine is strong but the pages like flip well? That’s hard to describe. The link at the start of this is my favourite tutorial.

Materials & some tips.

Paper: You can use anything. But, beware of the thickness, I use eco recycled paper, which is better for the environment, but you need to be a bit more gentle when actually binding so it doesn’t rip. 

A) NYLON thread. Don't come in here with your cotton or polyester thread. Nylon. Is. Superior. It won't break and it's easier to untangle (waxed thread is kind of overrated and expensive)

B) a bone folder and book press: you can really use either or, but if you’re only going to use one, it should be the book press.

C) Board. It’s for the cover. I am begging you, if you are still learning, do not attempt a paperback. You will get severely frustrated. Get yourself some Davey Board or any thick(ish) board of any kind and use that. The tutorial guy will help you with sizing. The trickiest part is the spine, getting it the right size just takes practice. 

D) Fabrics: Repeat After Me: Book Cloth Is Stupid. Some book binders hate me rn, but its true and I’ll die there. And then, I show them This:

Do you see this shit? Not one is book cloth. Look How Pretty Your Books Could Be. The purple one is drapery cloth, theres some cork board ones, and the top two are just thickish cotton. The book industry is just boring and they don’t know how to have fun. Also yes, I know the cork board two look kinda awful, they were the first ones I ever made. Leave them alone they’re doing their best. 

E) Glue. PVA Acid Free bookbinding glue is the best option, I recommend getting a one of the really soft paintbrushes from Walmart or whatever cheap and big softer one you can, it just makes spreading it easier. I’m really picky about the glue I use because I’m paranoid. This is the one I get, but It’s expensive, you can honestly use tacky glue and you’ll be fine

D) Curved Needle Please splurge on one. They’re like an extra dollar than one of the straight needles, and you will save yourself so many injuries. Every single tutorial will say “oh, you don’t need one” and they’re Idiots for it. Well I don’t like the feeling of stabbing myself repeatedly, and I’m willing to spend 10 dollars on a Set of 36  so that I’m not just in pain all the time. 

Ah, Typesetting. Hell on Earth

You want pretty chapter titles? Get Canva. There’s a free version and she’s lovely.

I, personally, will die before I print from a PDF. That being said, I wish with all my heart and soul that I had microsoft word. Because I use Literal Pages (if you don’t have a mac, you’re confused as fuck. If you do and you’ve had the pleasure of attempting to use pages, yeah. I know. It’s not great but it’s what I have)

Get rid of all your margins. Make sure your title images, if you’re gonna be a fancy canva title bitch like me, are moving with your text. I wish I could help you with a table of contents but I do it by hand aka, insert a table & tracking the pages as I copy paste + “fix up” chapters. *by fix up I mean correct colouring, add the indents, change the font size & type etc. Add italics. 

Indents should be 0.5 inches or it looks weird. You can do the pages so they’re the professional wall to wall text, but I cannot stress how much work it is to make sure it copies properly. 

Now, if you’re stupid and use pages like me...you have to redo all the italics. Good Luck. 

If you want to risk seeing if a PDF works---which it really can go badly if your margins aren’t literally Zero (and even then sometimes PDF adds them which is rude of them) you can, and you won’t have to redo all the italics. It’s your choice and if you find a better way Tell Me. 

Specifics:

You want Chapter One to be on Page 7 of the typeset. Again, this might change if you’re not using Pages, but that took me so long to figure out that I need to include it here. Before that there’s the, what I call, The Blank gluing page, another blank for the back of that page, the pretty Image + quote page you open up to, a blank one, Table of contents, Blank, Then, Finally, Chapter one. 

You can also do some weird settings for changing the page numbers so Chapter one, aka page one, you “Start a new section” and “start at 1″ Then you can delete the page numbers from the previous 6 pages and you’ll get page one on the actual first page of the book.

Font Size: There’s going to be two pages on one paper, so your font size is going to be 16/17. I prefer 17 because I’m blind. 

Here’s a Muse In Secret Typeset as an example that I made one day because I was bored. I don’t know if the Author gave permission for us to print it out or not so I haven’t but I made the type set so I could learn with a decent sized project. 

So that’s kinda what it looks like. 

You print it using the “layout--> Booklet” feature. Print in groups of “16″ which is 4 pages, 2 sided. 

Now for: Mistakes I’ve Made That You Won’t Have To Make Now

1.You need to use Thick Cardstock or something stronger to do the interior pages. 

It needs to be strong enough that it won’t rip. Don’t be me and think, oh I can use pretty paper, because this happens

*ALSO, and this is a weird one, A03 for some reason....the text is not black. And hey, you have to highlight everything to change the font size, type, and add indents anyways so you might as well change it to black as well. It makes a big difference. 

Other than these basics, the fun is the creativity and figuring it out. It’s okay to switch up fonts & design elaborate chapter titles, and add art and fanart you love. Make it personal to you. It’s why I don’t share my typesets. I put so much work into them and I can appreciate every little detail because of that.

Good Luck Amon!! It’s a really fun hobby, and it doesn’t have to be super expensive. Except for printer ink. I have no solutions for that one. 

[stansethandpaul]

Back to 505 (Part I)

Paul Lahote x fem!reader

Summary: She's noticed how distant he's been thinking that she's merely a past memory to him after he joined Sam's gang. TW!: depression (or hints to), abandonment, injuries, angst, verbal arguments, gaslighting, cheating, mentions of sex, blood, cursing (let me know if I missed anything else)

a/n: hello guys this is my first ever fanfic so go easy on me 😭 in all seriousness though I really was thinking about this song with paul Lahote or Seth clearwater I decided on paul. However, if you guys really enjoy it and there are requests for a Seth version I'll write him too :D I hope you guys enjoy it!!

(Part II) (Part III) Masterlist

The deafening sound of the alarm awoke me from my slumber. Stumbling out of bed, I trudged to the bathroom.

"Holy shit" I murmured looking into the mirror. A complete wreck is the best way to put it. Hopping into the shower I felt the cascade of the hot water wash away my grime and tears that I'd been laying in for the past few days.

Turning on my phone, I grimaced at my lock screen of the douchebag I was madly in love with before I caught him banging my "best friend". Misfortune followed me like I was a black cat. First, Paul Lahote, my partner in crime, disappears from school one day. No calls, texts, or emails were answered and I'm starting to think this man has either died or joined that stupid gang. Next, Richard, my "boyfriend", was caught by me, blowing my best friend's back out next to the park entrance. Blowing up my phone as they tried to explain what was happening, insisting it was a simple mistake, and attempting to blame me for being too much of a prude. Their excuses were about as weak as Richard's pull-out game because the next thing I knew, the news was flying around the school that my best friend was pregnant.

I just couldn't take it anymore, hiding away in my house to avoid the feelings of losing my boyfriend and Paul all at the same time. 10 tubs of ice cream later, I got it out of my system. I went through my phone, deleting every photo I had of Richard and her, and I stumbled upon one I took of Paul. He was in my lap, sleeping. I felt a twang in my heart but I ignored it and moved on.

"You have to move on y/n" I reminded myself. "If he can move on that easily so can you" reinforcing my ideas as I put on my shoes. Heading towards the forest I wanted a brief break from reality. Hiking up the path, I found myself lost in my thoughts. "How could he leave so easily" "Was our friendship that unimportant to him?" "Does he still remember me?" "Was it something that I did?". Not paying attention to where I was going, I stepped on a rock and ended up slipping into a small stream. "Fan-fucking-tastic" I spat out, grimacing at my wet clothes and the bloody knees. The bitter cold stung at me as my clothes clung to me. I felt a familiar feeling get caught in my throat as tears threatened to cascade down my face.

"WHAT DID I DO WRONG IN MY PAST LIFE TO DESERVE THIS YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKERS" I shrieked. Tears poured down my face as I sat in the water, watching my blood pool. I sat there for god knows how long but after finally composing myself, I got up, drying myself to the best of my abilities which sucked. I realized that in the midst of my thoughts I had strayed off the path and gotten lost. The sun was dipping below the horizon, another cruel joke the world had to play on me since being cold and wet in the middle of the woods wasn't good enough.

Trudging along the forest floor, I turned on my phone to see no text messages or calls. "Not like anyone fucking cares about me anymore", chuckling bitterly. The setting sun illuminated the forest less and less with each fleeting minute as I tried looking for signs of civilization.

Noticing a figure standing maybe 50 feet ahead of me, great someone that can help me get out of here.

"At least one good thing happened today," grumbling as I sped my way towards them. However, something gave me goosebumps. The closer I got, the better I could see their face, their very, very, VERY pale face. Eyes were like two rubies, a brilliant piercing red that seemed to be watching me although their back was slightly turned to me. I stopped about 15 feet ahead of them. Something isn't right, something about them is...supernatural. I slowly stepped backward, retreating to where I had come from, making sure my eyes never left them. Just don't make any sounds and I'll be fin-

CRACK

"motherfucker" I muttered as the individual turned their body towards me.

"Hello miss, you seem to be lost, would you like my assistance?" He questioned while peering at me with those lifeless ruby eyes. "Uhhh no I'm good, thank you for asking though. I have somewhere to be actually you see, my boyfriend was calling me and I need-" I rambled on trying to save myself some time as I kept inching backward but he seemed to notice as he walked towards me.

"Hey man, I told you I'm good, I have to go back home and I know my way back," I said nervously trying my best to sound confident even with my wavering voice.

"You don't seem too confident though," He asked increasing his speed.

"Well, you see I uh, tend to find myself pretty nervous when there's a creepy guy with bright red eyes walking towards me after I've said no, especially since you look like a fucking pervert for all I know" I yelled back.

He said nothing as he advanced towards me. Shit. I need to run. Now. I turned around and stumbling towards the direction I came from. Wind whipping in my face while my lungs burn and tears resurface again. I heard him close behind me as the leaves crunched beneath his feet, seemingly getting closer and closer. Looking forward, I thought maybe I would be fine until he appeared in front of me.

what. the. fuck. I thought before I felt the air getting knocked out of my lungs followed by a sharp pain near my right shoulder and the back of my head. The ringing in my ears got intensified as I tried to recollect myself and my thoughts after the impact. I opened my eyes to see a pair of shoes before my face.

"If you had just given in and accepted my help you wouldn't have been in this much pain baby" he snickered while putting his feet on my side and applying pressure. I felt a warm liquid drip over my eyes smelling the metallic stench.

"I'll make this fast for you since I'm the nicest person ever" he gloated with a burst of mocking laughter.

"You know...you must be a fucking loser to call a random stranger you're planning to kill baby." I spat out with a small smirk dancing on my lips. He didn't take too kindly to my snide remark as he pressed harder onto my side. What a little bitch.

"Since you like being a little smartass, I'll make this slower than it has to be bitch" leaning down to my face and licking it. The warm feeling of his tongue sent shivers down my spine. Feeling the pressure on my side being relieved and I finally could breathe. However, that pressure was just shifted over to my neck as he grabbed it hoisting me into the air. Fighting for air, desperation took over as I clawed at his hands to loosen his grip which was met with great resistance. My flailing legs were a futile attempt to kick him but I couldn't even reach him.

This is how I'm gonna die, a fucking loser. He grinned at my weak attempts at prolonging my survival, finding morbid enjoyment in it. That's when I saw it, those two sharp canines. Almost too sharp for a human..it was like a vampire's. Adrenaline rushed my body again as I made more thrashing movements in the hopes he would lose his grip on me.

"Let me go you fucking no life, lonely, bloodsucking bitch" I choked out. His grin instantly fell as he threw me against a tree, once again knocking the air out of me. I screeched as I felt a wave of nauseating pain washing over, hearing the snap. His cold hand was on my wrist which he had snapped and yanked me up again, holding me by arm. Tears pooled in my eyes as the pain took over my body. He licked the trickling blood on my arm. clearly enjoying it. "Fear does make humans taste better," he remarked as he went closer to my neck. I'm fucking dead. Suddenly I heard loud thumps in the forest and felt my body drop to the floor. Blurs of fur streaked past my vision as wolves the size of bears jumped atop the man and mauled him. Great, I'm gonna die to fucking wolves now. I scooted back closer towards the foliage in hopes that none of them would notice since they were occupied with the vampire. I bumped into something that felt oddly warm for a tree, I turned my head around slowly praying that it wasn't what I thought it was. I met the gaze of a dark silver wolf, its eyes piercing mine. I winced as it moved its head closer to me, expecting the worst but I felt a soft nudge against my broken wrist. Was it...concerned for me? The silver wolf ran into the woods and from there emerged a familiar face. Paul motherfucking Lahote. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I let you get hurt like this" Paul rambled as I sat there dazed. Was he that wolf? No way, there is no way a wolf can turn into a man and vice versa. "We'll get you patched up, come on," he said as he tried picking me up but I only stood up and walked backward. "DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME" I yelled, "YOU DON'T GET TO COME BACK OUT OF NOWHERE WHEN YOUVE BEEN GONE FOR ALL OF THESE MONTHS AND ACT LIKE A HERO." Tears streamed down my face as I clutched my broken wrist and retreated even more. "y/n I can explain please just let me get you patched up," pleading with me as I backed off more and more. "No, don't you fucking dare Lahote" I spat out not noticing that the other wolves were gone and in their place was Sam's gang. "You forgot about me, you left me for that stupid fucking gang" I sobbed as I faltered and landed on my knees. "You forgot about me," I whispered, my voice hoarse from screaming.

"Don't you dare say that y/n. I have never forgotten about you and I can promise you on that," Paul said as he got closer to my trembling form. Liar, he's a liar.

"Please, just let me help you and I'll explain everything, I never meant to leave you for that long y/n." He looked into my eyes with desperation.

"Fucking bullshit" I spat out before getting up and trying to walk away. The lightheadedness took over due to the amount of blood I'd lost and I expected to feel a hard impact as I felt myself fall but instead, I never hit the ground. Paul carried me in his arm as I was pressed against his naked chest which radiated an impossible warmth.

Lulled into a slumber of unconsciousness, I felt the motion of someone running and a faint distraught. "I'm so sorry my love", before blacking out.

Please like and repost :D

[quotidian-oblivion]

Thanks so much for the tag! I have never seen this type of tag game before, but it sounds really cool. And hey, I'm so happy for you, wallflower, with all those achievements! It's amazing! /gen

Alrighty, uh, I had to think a bit for some, but some immediately popped into my mind cuz I had a squeaking session some days ago. (A squeaking session is just me squeaking about myself to boost up my internal validation bar)

FANDOM

Published 15 works on ao3 and have 9 fics written and to be edited and published and too many to count ideas filled in various word documents. This is... kinda overwhelming in a good way cuz writing... writing's just always been me, y'know? Just always a part of me. A coping mechanism and a hobby.

Written and published two novel-length fics. Wow. I've wanted to publish a novel since I was 10. And now... 10-year-old me is gonna be confused about why its fanfiction, but then squeal when she finds out that it's as long as a novel and wouldn't mind anyway.

I've written more words than I could have ever imagined. 251,825 that are published. Oh God, I love this game.

NON-FANDOM

Started being more aware about my mental health ig? Specifically, when I started writing my first multi-chapter fic. Had to do a lot of research and found things that sounded way too familiar. Then I actually started experiencing some of the things, crashed into a wall (metaphorically), started losing myself and motivation, but starting to regain it and myself back! Yeah lol, fanfic's helped a lot with this.

And my friends did too! Even more so. That's my second celebration. The friends I made. The, uh, online ones that is. The irl ones are... just, y'know, are. But I love my lovely noodles. They're the best ones I could ever ask for. Love ya guys! (No really, I would be walking around with an anxiety attack and be like "this is fine" without you and would be dead. Metaphorically that is. Thank you.)

Being more... mature? Myself? Can't think of the word. But not naive and dumb and cringy and stupid and ignorant and- wait no, this is a self-positivity post. Okay, sorry, so, basically, I changed. Drastically. It started last year, and I swear to God, I'm going through identities and personalities like one would go through thin stockings. Weird metaphor, ik, but im not always the best at it. You get the gist tho. The ppl around me must think a new clone is appearing each month or even week with how much I'm constantly changing myself. My way of talking, behaving, acting, thinking. Just constant change on my "journey to find myself".

I wanna say being more organized and meeting due dates but then we all know that I would be lying. All I can say is that I'm surviving and growing braver by the day (like getting the courage to reveal my singing voice to my friends after four years today + a bunch more! Yay!)

Lol, i went on a ramble. I love rambling. This was great, thank you.

Tagging, with absolutely no pressure, @cygnusdoesthings @tristicorde @wakkoroni @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego @sardonic-sprite + whoever else wants to join in. We would love to have you. Really.

SELF CELEBRATION TAG GAME

Thanks @charmsandtealeaves for the tag! This took a few days of stewing... and then I forgot about it.

I’m not sure what the original rules were, but I’m going with stuff from this year.

FANDOM

Started writing promoted microfics. Published 15 so far. Mostly Jily, one Wolfstar, and one about Angelina Johnson. It's so much fun; I love the microfic community.

Published chapters for All’s Well That Ends Well, I Can’t Love Him and Expectation’s Encumbrance. Will probably take me a couple months to publish the next ones, but hey, who's counting?

Published Three Is a Lucky Number, You Know, which was the labour of an in-proportionate amount of time. Probably one of my favourite things I've written.

This is not really fandom, but it is Tumblr: I can now leave Asks without switching to anon, which used to be difficult/anxiety-invoking. Yay for me!

NON FANDOM

Started bouldering again after a long break. Also picked up a few other hobbies again, which is fun.

Have a +30-day streak on Duolingo. Probably my proudest achievement.

Enrolled in a unit at uni. Pretty happy with myself about this one. I was considering deferring because my mental health was in the dumps last year (not helped by uni), but I'm actually looking forward to this semester.

That's all I can really think of.

Going to tag (obviously, no pressure, sorry if you’ve already done it): @merlinsbbeard @kay-elle-cee @annabtg @practicecourts @quotidian-oblivion @constancezin