#the idea that this is not a universal experience is like...??

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

eyes on the prize

a/n: me writing a fic where rafe is actually wholesome and nice? i didn't see it coming either... this idea just came to me when you were all voting for the kinktober fic a while ago, and i was prepping that it maybe could go in this direction and then ended up falling too much in love with the fantasy, so i simply had to get it out of my system.

summary: “in a week, when we’ve turned in the assignment, and everything is over, I want you to come watch me fight… watch me win…” a cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he awaited your answer.

warnings: mma!rafe cameron x reader, smut, college au, study buddies to lovers, soft!rafe, autumnal vibes, takes place in the beginning of november, studying, friday the 13th references, scaredy cat!reader, violence, mma fights, kissing, semi-public sex, clothed sex, dirty talk, manhandling, ripping pantyhose, size kink, spit kink, hole inspection, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

word count: 2626

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“So,” you hesitantly broke the silence that had fallen over both you and the partner that had been assigned to you on this current project, “did you get up to anything fun on Halloween?” 

Glancing up from the thick book Rafe’s bored gaze was rushing through, it instead lingered on you for but a moment as his mutter reverberated in the quiet corner of the university’s library, “uhm, yeah. I popped by a party for a bit.” 

“The one at delta neu?” a glint flickered in your eye as soon as he offered you a nod, “me too! Though I went home kinda early, so we might have missed each other… what did you going as?” 

“Jason,” he simply uttered. 

“Jason who?” the soft smile didn’t fade from your lips as his short answer hadn’t landed the way he’d hoped. 

“You know,” his brows furrowed slightly at your cluelessness, repeating once again as if the name alone should be enough for you to understand, “Jason.” 

“…Jason Statham? Jason Momoa?” your eyes squinted as you quietly attempted to hit the bullseye, “uhm… I can’t really think of any other famous Jasons right now…” 

“No, Jason from Friday the 13th. You know, the dude with the hockey mask and the machete.” 

“Ah, him… yeah, I haven’t watched those movies,” you shrugged, “but, cool costume.” 

“Wait, you’ve never seen Friday the 13th?” he tilted closer to where you sat across the table from him, “not even the cheesy remake?” 

“Nope,” you simply returned your gaze to the textbook beneath your fingers.  

“Seriously?” his eyebrows didn’t float back down yet, “well, I don’t know if I should be offended that you’ve never watched that masterpiece before or jealous that you get to experience it for the first time, but either way, that’s a problem we need to fix.” 

At first, you thought you’d entered the wrong building. 

That was until you rounded the corner, and your gaze fluttered up from the map still open on your phone, guiding you to the mysterious address your study partner had texted you, asking you to meet up with him there before the rest of your plans could unfold, that you discovered that you hadn’t stumbled into the wrong place. 

Though that wasn’t the only thing you discovered in that moment as the culmination of that enlightenment was spotting Rafe in the middle of the industrial and cold gym, going through the tail end of some drills with his trainer. 

As he went through the combinations and grunted like a guard dog, sweat dripped down from his brow and rolled so low that it cascaded over his already glistening and bare chest. 

You hadn’t really noticed how your feet had stopped or how your pulse had picked up so fiercely that you could feel it between your thighs before his own eyes located you and he flashed you a smile.

“Hey!” his voice cut through your trance as he patted his coach on the shoulder and began to near the edge of the ring. 

“H-hi,” you blinked, shaking your fuzzy head slightly to clear it, “I didn’t know you were into this sort of stuff,” you briefly waved a hand to the gym around you and tried your best to rip your stare away from his heaving chest. 

“Yeah,” he began to loosen a glove, “sorry I asked you to meet me here, I’m just really busy these days cause I’ve got a fight coming up.” 

“Oh, well we don’t have to have a silly movie night if you don’t have the time,” you averted your gaze, recalling how before you’d been paired with him on the assignment for Callahan’s class, you hadn’t even been sure of what his name was. You’d just known him as the hot guy, three rows behind you. 

“No, no, I want to, unless of course you’ve changed your mind.”

Blinking back up into his eyes, you smiled, “definitely not.”

“Well, great,” a grin spread across his lips, “then just give me a second,” he cast a brief glance over his broad shoulder at the locker room, “and then we can head back to my place,” a notion you hadn’t expected would have ended with you up on the back of his motorcycle, a terrifying concept that you’d somehow been unable to deny as the crush that had blossomed and bloomed within your heart for him had made it near impossible for you to say no to a single one of his suggestions. 

“You never told me what you went as,” Rafe hummed beside you, causing your eyes to tear away from the horror movie buzzing on the TV.

Blinking over at him next to you on the leather couch, your fingers began to fiddle with the blanket you’d slumped over yourself, “oh, well I didn’t wanna buy anything new, so I just went through my closet and ended up going as Britney Spears because I found the skirt of my old school uniform. I don’t even remember why I brought it with me the last time I went home, but–, ah!” a shriek suddenly shuttered through your form as your eyes accidentally fluttered back towards the screen just in time to witness the villain sink a large blade into the head of one of the drunk teenagers, “oh my god!” your frame couldn’t help but jump at the fright, nearly tossing the blanket across the room as you instinctively hid your features in the mass of Rafe’s bicep. 

As your heart raced and thumped in your chest, you felt Rafe’s shoulder begin to move before you heard his laughter. 

“Shut up, it’s not funny!” you smacked him lightly in the chest, though kept your vision darkened by his shirt, “so I’m not desensitised to the horrors of scary movies, big whoop!” a mutter then slipped out of your lungs, “fuck, why did I agree to this? I’m probably gonna have nightmares for weeks…”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a movie,” you felt his palm find your arm in a soothing rub as his voice hummed directly above the crown of your head, “and the scene is almost over.” 

“I can’t look…” you felt yourself lean more into his touch. 

“…do you want me to describe it to you?” 

“No…” you lingered in the security of his warmth and felt the terror slowly melt from your bones. Cupping a hand on the side of your face to shield your eyes from the horrors on screen, you carefully plucked your face just shy out of his safety before you uttered, “…just tell me when it’s over…” 

The blaring light from the television reflected against the side of Rafe’s face as he gazed down into your eyes and breathed, “okay,” his stare slowly dipping and fluttering down towards your lips. 

It wasn’t till now that you noticed how close you’d accidentally scooted to him as you weren’t far from just sitting in his lap. 

Sharing his breath, your mind went entirely blank and only switched back on when you’d closed the distance betwixt your lips and now found yourself kissing your study buddy. 

Thankfully, your brain didn’t get a chance to begin spiralling as it only took Rafe half a second to reciprocate the sudden move and kiss you back. 

His strong hands found the small of your waist buried beneath the woollen blanket before he began to drag you closer, pulling you so near that you actually did wind up sitting in his lap, your fingers fluttering against his buzzcut as his own scooped down over the curve of your ass. 

When the movie gently humming from behind you was long forgotten and your soul instead had drifted straight to heaven, you felt Rafe tilt his head back to breathlessly utter, “come watch my fight…” his forehead still pressed against your own. 

Scarcely picking up on the words behind his honied hum, you breathed, “what?” 

Reeling back just enough for his eye to catch your own dazed pair, he said, “in a week, when we’ve turned in the assignment, and everything is over, I want you to come watch me fight… watch me win…” a cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he awaited your answer.

You’d never seen a fight in real life before. 

Not boxing, not mixed martial arts as this was, not even a juvenile one in a schoolyard. 

At one point, when you thought all hope seemed lost, when Rafe got pinned by his opponent and blood was trickling down from the cut at his brow so clearly that you could make it out from the second row seat you found yourself planted in, he somehow managed to turn the tides and capture the boulder of a man in a lock so fierce it made them nearly melt into one pretzel-like being. 

As he flexed his arm around the other’s throat with the rest of his limbs restricting him as well and rendering an escape near impossible, Rafe’s eyes then flickered up to catch your wide ones in the crowd. A grin appeared on his features as he held your stare a moment longer, watching as you shyly began to mirror his smile, before he tightened his hold and squeezed till the opponent opted not to bruise his pride and tap out, instead going limp in the grasp. 

Once the trophy was in his gloved hand and he’d leapt out of the ring, on his way back towards the locker room, he zigzagged through the cheering crowd and caught onto your arm, dragging you with him as he exited the buzzing hall. 

“That was insane,” you heard yourself babble as he pulled you through the corridors down towards the backroom he’d been in prior to the fight, “I mean, I know I went into it kinda blind, but I had no idea it would be like that,” adrenaline still rushed through your veins as he tugged you over the threshold and closed the door behind you, swiftly dropping his trophy to one of the long benches, “sure, it was as insane as I probably imagined, but the way that you moved, the way you slipped in and out like you were made of water or something, I mean, that was beautiful–,” the fighter then suddenly cut your rambling short as he yanked you to his sweaty form and pressed his lips to your own. However, as his feet shuffled and your spine collided with the back of the door to the small locker room, your fingers fluttered over countless of the spots where he’d been hit, causing you to jerk back and ask, “wait, shouldn’t you have someone check you out?” your eyes flickered from the cut splitting his brow to the various fresh bruises already beginning to blossom and reveal their true colours, “are you okay?”

“I’ve never felt better in my whole life,” he tried to lean back in to capture your lips once more, though you tilted away just in time for him to miss. 

“You sure? Because–”

But your words were quickly snuffed out as his hands then flew up to grasp the sides of your face to force you to notice the glint in his eye and the desire dripping in his tone, “just shut up and kiss me,” he commanded before he practically devoured you whole. 

As Rafe’s tongue danced against your own and made you feel dizzy in his tight embrace, his fingers then blindly fumbled for the lock and twisted it with a click that harmonised with the throbbing that had appeared between your thighs as soon as the fight had commenced. 

A low growl rumbled deep within his chest and melted into your mouth as he then plucked you off of the ground and lifted you into his arms. Broad palms spreading wide below your bottom, he brought you as close as possible, causing the skirt you wore to ride up and crumble at your hips. The thin barrier of your pantyhose and the underwear beneath nearly incinerated from the heat that sparked as his hips greedily rocked against your covered core, lending you to feel just how hard he was in his shorts. 

“I want you so bad,” he groaned between pecks, his fingers digging into your softness.

“Shouldn’t you be out celebrating your victory or something?” a light giggle bubbled out of you. 

“I thought that was what I was doing,” he smirked before dropping you back down onto the ground, making you gasp at his sharp movements as he suddenly spun you around to face the closed door, “unless you have a better idea of how we could celebrate,” he nipped at your neck, making your eyes flutter. 

“I–…” your teeth briefly captured your bottom lip as his front pressed against your back, and your spine instinctively arched back into him, “no, yeah, this one’s g-good…”

“Good,” he murmured in your ear before his fingers found your pantyhose in a pinch and ripped a big hole in them, nearly splitting them in two as he exposed your underwear, “do you want it?” he gripped your hips and titled them for his hard-on to perfectly nudge against the soaked cotton. 

“Y-yes,” you panted, even just that one word haven been a struggle to utter through the fog he’d cast you into. 

“How bad?” 

“So bad–, Rafe, please,” he made you squeak desperately, “I just–, please…”

Cheek smooshed against the door, you glanced over your shoulder and watched as he then kneeled down behind you. Both hands still firmly planted on your hips, keeping you in place for him, they only strayed for a moment in order to shove your skirt the rest of the way up and letting him see the wet spot decorating your panties. 

“Oh, shit…” he groaned as he tugged the gusset of your underwear all the way to the side, a string of your glossy want clung to the fabric till it snapped back against your aching core. Nearly salivating as he inspected your holes, his fingers dented your ass as he pulled you apart, splitting you open that much further and watching intently at the way your drooling cunt throbbed in anticipation for his touch. 

As if your pussy’s embarrassingly leaky state wasn’t enough, a dollop of his spit then roughly landed upon your folds, the lewdness causing you to let out a moan as he swiftly rose back up to his full height without as much as a tickle to your tingly petals.

The next thing you knew, the adrenaline coursing through you both drove Rafe to free his length from its confines and, without as much as another kiss, slammed inside of your weeping pussy in one fell motion. 

Balls nuzzled tightly against you, the very tip of him nudged against a part so deep inside of you that it made you lose your breath as he took a moment to savour the sensation, freezing up within you and huffing against your cheek as you gasped for air through your whimpers. 

“Oh my god!” one of your hands curled back to crawl at his waist, “Rafe!” 

“Now,” his hips slowly drew back, dragging his fat girth back out of you and letting you feel every little detail of him, “you just gotta be a good girl, stand right here for me,” only the bulbous head of his cock remained, keeping you plugged up as he purred in your ear, “and take it like the perfect little prize you are,” he then buried himself once more with such vigour that his heavy sack tapped sloppily against your puffy clit, “can you do that for me? Will you be my reward?” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Children's Death Comprehension

Psychology contributes to the understanding of the human encounter with death in many ways.

Stages of Death Comprehension in Childhood:

STAGE — AGE RANGE — INTERPRETATION OF DEATH

1 — 3 to 5 — Death is separation; the dead are less alive; very curious about death

2 — 5 to 9 — Death is final, but one might escape it!

3 — 9 to adult — Death is personal, universal, final, and inevitable

Precisely how does the child’s understanding of death develop?

The most influential answer derived from a study by Hungarian psychologist Maria Nagy (1948) who interviewed children and asked them to draw death-related pictures.

"Auntie Death," as she was affectionately called, found a stage-like progression, as summarized above.

These findings provide a useful database for contemporary studies although personifications of death in childhood have been relatively uncommon in subsequent studies, and the variables of developmental level and personal experiences with death have received more attention.

Five other points are worth consideration in comprehending the child’s orientation toward death:

Even the youngest children are aware of separation and its threat to their survival. One does not have to understand the mature adult model of death in order to respond to the experience of loss.

Young children do occasionally express spontaneous insight into the finality of death, as when encountering a dead animal or withered plant; however, there is often a retreat from this realization and a return to more limited and wish-fulfilling ideas.

Children have a lively curiosity about death, leading at times to questions or little experiments that can unsettle adults (e.g., taking a caterpillar apart to see if it can be put back together again and made to go). The brightest and most observant children usually show the most curiosity.

Adults often exclude children from death-related conversations and respond to their questions with evasion and anxiety. A rule of silence regarding death applies in many homes, and with particular force to children.

Adults who are committed to preparing children for life should themselves be prepared to serve as mentors and guides as children encounter death in either reality or fantasy. Many parents have reported their discomfort in trying to help their children deal with death-related questions and experiences because they had so little guidance in their own childhood.

Source ⚜ More: On Psychology

[fratttymatty]

Grown

(All characters are 18+)

Riley Grant had always been comfortable in his own skin. At 20, he was confident, passionate, and deeply rooted in his liberal values. He was a proud gay college student studying political science at a progressive university, spending his days debating everything from human rights to climate change. He had a close-knit group of friends, a boyfriend named Jonah, and a future filled with dreams of activism and social change.

But one day, everything changed.

It started innocuously enough. Riley had signed up for a strange elective called "Theories of Identity," a course that promised to delve into psychological and philosophical ideas about the self. The professor was eccentric—Dr. Jonathan Rivers was a tall man in his mid-50s with wiry glasses and a perpetual half-smile, as though he knew a secret the rest of the world was oblivious to.

One day, during a lecture on the nature of personal transformation, Dr. Rivers handed out strange, leather-bound journals to each student. "This," he said, "is an experiment. A test of your ability to reinvent yourself. To become someone else, entirely. This journal will guide you. Write in it, follow its instructions, and you might experience something... unexpected."

Riley, curious but skeptical, took the journal with a raised eyebrow. He wasn't one to believe in metaphysical mumbo-jumbo, but he liked the challenge. That evening, he opened the first page of the journal, where it instructed him to write about his deepest desire for personal change.

"I wish I could be more confident in my future," Riley wrote, his pen scratching across the paper. "I want to feel grounded, more sure of who I am, and find a place in the world that feels... stable."

It was a simple wish, something Riley had been pondering for a while. He didn’t expect much to come of it.

The next morning, Riley woke up feeling different. His usual morning routine—checking his phone, scrolling through social media, texting Jonah—felt strange, almost foreign. When he looked in the mirror, something was off. His face appeared… older. His jawline was sharper, his cheekbones more defined, and his eyes had a new hardness to them, as if they had seen more of the world than they should have for someone his age. He ran his hand through his hair and froze. His normally messy, untamed curls had been replaced with short, tousled waves that felt oddly natural.

But that wasn’t all.

Riley glanced at his phone, but when he read the notifications, a sense of unfamiliarity washed over him. Instead of messages from his college friends or Jonah, there were calls from people he didn’t recognize, reminding him of meetings, appointments, and a gym schedule. His inbox was filled with emails from work, and most disturbingly, there was an invitation to a family dinner later that evening.

Confused and unsettled, Riley stood up and stumbled out of his apartment to the bathroom. That’s when he noticed the changes in his body. His frame was broader, more muscular. He had the chest of someone who worked out regularly—and his arms were solid, like a boxer’s. He even felt a strange pull to the idea of boxing, something that had never crossed his mind before.

In a haze, Riley went to the living room to check the journals again, but they were gone. He only found his reflection staring back at him, a man he didn’t recognize.

The first few hours after his transformation were a blur. Ryan felt like he was waking up from a long dream, disoriented, his old identity slipping through his fingers like sand. Eventually, the reality settled in—he was no longer a college student with a boyfriend. He had a wife, kids, and a whole new set of beliefs.

When he checked his phone, he saw that his calendar was packed with meetings, family events, and even training sessions at the gym. Ryan glanced at a picture on the kitchen counter—there he was, smiling with a beautiful woman and three children in front of a well-kept house. The woman’s name was Jessica, and she was stunning, with long blonde hair, a radiant smile, and a grace that made Ryan’s chest swell with pride. His two sons, Ethan and Luke, both 18 were both healthy and active, always eager to play sports or spend time with their dad. And then there was Olivia, his sweet daughter who had Ryan wrapped around her finger.

Jessica was pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl, and Ryan couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of responsibility, a desire to protect and provide for them all. The future, once so uncertain for him as Riley, now felt crystal clear. It was his job to take care of his family, and nothing else mattered.

His phone buzzed again with a message from Jessica: “Can you pick up the boys from school? I have a doctor’s appointment today.”

Without thinking, Ryan grabbed his keys, changed into a comfortable hoodie and jeans, and headed out to the minivan. He noticed the way his hands gripped the wheel with confidence, the ease with which he navigated the streets. He was a man in control.

At the school, Ryan was greeted by a friendly teacher who called him “Mr. Grant” with a warmth that seemed so familiar. As he loaded the kids into the car, Ethan, the older son, turned to him with a grin.

“Hey, Dad, don’t forget—my first match is Saturday. You’re still coming, right?”

Ryan chuckled, ruffling Ethan’s hair. At 18, Ethan was already a towering figure, well on his way to becoming a star athlete. “You bet I am. Just try not to knock your opponent out too quickly, alright? You’ll leave me without much to watch.”

Ethan rolled his eyes playfully, but there was no mistaking the bond between them. Ethan was more than just his son—he was his teammate, his training partner, and his co-conspirator in the gym. Ryan had been coaching him in boxing for a while now, and it was one of their favourite activities.

Later that evening, as he sat down to dinner with Jessica and the kids, he noticed something else: his worldview had shifted. The conversations were different. He wasn’t debating politics with friends; he was talking about the importance of family, the value of hard work, and the role of faith in the home. He found himself nodding along to Jessica’s thoughts about raising children with good moral values and emphasizing respect for authority. It all felt right, the way life was supposed to be.

When the conversation turned to their growing family, Jessica smiled at him, her hand resting on her swollen belly. "Can you believe we're about to have two more? I think the twins are going to complete our family perfectly."

Ryan leaned over, kissing her on the cheek, and felt a deep sense of contentment. This was his life now. He was a man who was proud of his role as a father, someone who loved his country, his family, and his way of life. His new identity was firmly in place, and as he watched his children laugh and play, he realized he wouldn’t change a thing.

In the end, Riley Grant—the passionate, liberal, gay college student—was gone, replaced by Ryan Grant, a 36-year-old conservative father with a strong sense of duty and an unwavering commitment to his family. The transformation was complete.

Riley’s journals remained locked away, their purpose fulfilled. But for Ryan, life was just beginning. He had a beautiful wife, wonderful children—including a 18-year-old son with a promising future in sports—and a future he could be proud of. And as he laced up his boxing gloves that evening, ready to train for a fight—whether in the ring or in life—he knew one thing for sure: his new life was exactly what he had always been meant to have.

As the presidential election approached, Ryan could feel the weight of it hanging in the air. It wasn’t just about voting anymore; it was about the future—the future of his children, the future of his country. Ryan’s political transformation was complete, and it was clear where he stood. He had become a staunch supporter of the Republican Party, and this election was pivotal.

The conversation started over dinner one evening, as the family discussed their plans for Election Day. It was the first time in a long while that Ryan and Jessica had discussed politics with such intensity, and the shift in Ryan’s perspective was unmistakable.

“I’ve been reading a lot about the candidates,” Jessica said, her voice calm but firm. “It’s clear the Democratic Party has lost its way. Their policies are dangerous for our future—socialism, open borders, and government overreach. We need a leader who will make this country stronger, not weaker.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, nodding thoughtfully. The person he once was—the liberal Riley Grant—would have debated Jessica fiercely, maybe even argued for the Democratic Party’s platform. But now, with his focus on his family, his home, and his new sense of duty as a husband and father, his beliefs had aligned with the Republican Party in ways he hadn’t imagined.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ryan replied, his voice steady. “The Republican Party stands for the things that matter most to me now: personal responsibility, a strong economy, and making sure our kids grow up in a country that respects traditional values. The Democratic Party has pushed policies that are more about entitlement and less about the values that built this country.”

Ethan, their 18-year-old son, who had spent the last few months keeping up with the election, was quick to chime in. “I’ve been hearing a lot about the Republican Party at school, and I’ve been doing my own research too. I think the Republican Party is the right choice. They’re about securing our borders, strengthening the economy, and putting America first. I don’t want to live in a country where the government controls everything.”

Ryan couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride. Ethan wasn’t just agreeing with his father; he was forming his own opinions, thinking critically, and seeing the world in a way that reflected Ryan’s own values. It was a sign that Ryan and Jessica’s influence was already taking root in their kids.

“That’s exactly right, son,” Ryan said, looking at Ethan with approval. “This isn’t just about politics—it’s about making sure we have the freedom to live our lives without the government telling us how. The Democratic Party has been pushing all these policies that take away freedom and responsibility. The Republican Party understands that the best thing for this country is self-reliance and the strength of family.”

Luke, at 18 years old, was just like his twin, Ethan, listened intently. “So, we’re voting for the Republican Party, right, Dad?”

Ryan smiled at his youngest. “Yes, buddy. The Republican Party is the party that stands for what we believe in. They want to keep us safe, protect our rights, and make sure America stays strong.”

Olivia, also agreed, it was clear to Ryan that she was growing up in a household where their values were firmly rooted. This was the world he wanted for her—a world where she could grow up surrounded by the freedom to make her own choices, secure in the knowledge that her family was protected and valued.

On Election Day, the entire family gathered together in the living room, their eyes glued to the TV as the results began to roll in. The tension in the air was palpable, but Ryan was confident in his choice. He had voted for the Republican Party, knowing full well that the future of the country—and of his children—was at stake.

Jessica sat beside him, her hand resting gently on his knee, as they watched the numbers tick across the screen. “This is the future we’ve been working toward,” she said quietly. “It’s about securing a better world for our kids. A safer world, a stronger country.”

Ryan nodded, his chest swelling with pride as he looked around the room at his family—his beautiful, strong, and intelligent wife, his two sons, and his daughter who would grow up in this new world they were helping shape. It didn’t matter where he had come from, or who he had been before the transformation. The man he was now, the life they had built together, felt like the right path.

Ethan leaned forward, watching the election results unfold with a sense of excitement. “I really think the Republican Party is going to win. I just don’t see how the Democratic Party can push forward with everything they want. The country needs a strong leader.”

Ryan felt a deep satisfaction in his son’s words. It wasn’t just about the politics—it was about the way Ethan was embracing the values that Ryan now held dear: individual liberty, family, and national pride. Ethan was becoming the kind of young man Ryan had always hoped to raise.

“I think you’re right,” Ryan said. “This country needs a leader who understands the importance of tradition, of family, and of putting America first. I’m proud of us for making the right choice.”

As the night wore on and the election results became clearer, Ryan knew without a doubt that he had made the right decision. His world had changed—he had changed—and in this new life, the Republican Party was not just a political choice. It was a way of life.

Jessica smiled, squeezing his hand as the final votes were tallied. “We did it, Ryan. This is the future we’ve worked for.”

Ryan looked at his family—his wife, his children—and felt an overwhelming sense of pride. They were safe. They were strong. And they were ready for whatever came next.

[twilightkitkat]

Thinking of a poolverine time travel au where Wade and Logan go back in time all the way to Origins but only Wade remembers.

Cue Wade annoying the fuck out of a younger version of Logan and slowly managing to worm his way into his heart. Wade insists on accompanying Logan everywhere and is an irritating but oddly useful thorn in Logan's side. It's like he knows Logan with how in sync he is with his thoughts and actions, moving like he has practice working alongside him. His talking fills up the silence and gives Logan a companionship he didn't know he could have, not when his only real point of human contact for centuries was Victor.

It's... nice to be around someone who isn't a psychopath. Wade is insane, sure, but he doesn't belittle Logan for having emotions or "weakness." Logan appears tough on the outside, but killing civilians eats him up on the inside. And so when he's drunk he breaks down. Wade holds him in his arms as he sobs and comforts him, and it's more than Logan ever had before. They grow closer after that.

Then one day, Logan decides to finally leave. He throws down his dog tags and turns away, pissed off and vindictive but also scared because he's leaving behind everything he knew. War, violence, and his brother. Until someone taps on his shoulder and he whips around ready to tear them apart only to see Wade, grinning awkwardly, who says he'll go with him and hands him his own dog tags.

Logan nearly breaks down. He hugs Wade so tightly that he damn near crushes him, holding onto the only person he has left. The relief is so overwhelming that it's hard to stop himself from collapsing.

They manage to escape together, with the help of Wade's negotiation and language skills. (Logan doesn't want to think about how hard it would have been to do this entirely by himself, stranded on an island where he couldn't even communicate.)

They flee to Canada together. Wade is prepared for Kayla Silverfox to marry Logan except... that doesn't happen. When she comes over and acts friendly with Wade, touching his arm and giggling, Logan looks at her with such disdain it's like she's a pest intruding on his territory. When she turns to Logan, flirty but shy, he brushes her off easily and marches away with Wade in tow. They don't end up marrying.

Logan and Wade live together in domestic bliss for a few years. They both work in construction, Logan as a lumberjack and Wade as a builder. The night after their encounter with Kayla, they'd gotten together. Logan, fueled by pent-up jealousy and possessiveness, finally reached out to grab Wade and yank him into a searing kiss. He'd looked wild and uncertain, confused by his own feelings, until Wade cradled his face and kissed him back. And Logan melted against him.

It's like all was right with the world. Except... Wade knows how the story goes. He knows that this story doesn't have a happy ending. He knows that Victor will return and that the odds are stacked against him. He doesn't even have his mutation right now, let alone a way to defeat Stryker on his own.

And so he starts planning. He needs a plan that keeps the major plot points the same while creating a better ending. Logan needs to get his mutation, as painful as it was, and Stryker's island needs to be destroyed. But Wade couldn't let Logan live through the same heartbreak as last time. And he sure as hell wouldn't let himself die or become a fucked up trial experiment for the Weapon X program.

Wade will make sure that he and Logan make it out in one piece, even if he has to bend the fucking timeline until it nearly breaks. He has to. He won't accept any other outcomes.

Even if he has to fight the universe itself, Wade will make sure Logan gets a good ending.

(If you like this idea I expand on it a lot more in this post.)

[sweetprfct]

Bookshop Conversations

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: A meet-cute with Joe at a bookshop cafe was something you didn't expect. Being a lone wolf for a year now and still being haunted by your past, could you open up your door for him and give love another chance?

Author's Note: I have been staring at a blank page for more than a couple of months, almost every day. Wrote unfinished one shots and series and then scrap it up and toss it in the bin. Been going through a really dark time personally (and still is). Events of the last few days after election didn't help either. Writing is art and art always gets me through a tough time, so that's why I'm here. I haven't been updated to any news in this fandom, and I plan to stay that way. I plan on coming here and publishing and interacting through DMs and ask box about positive stuff about my fics only. This idea appeared just a couple days ago, and it started igniting back some inspiration. Am I back? The answer is: I don't know. I'm taking it slow. Let's take it slow, okay? So, here's a new short series. I've missed some of you, and I hope you enjoy this because I'm winging it with no plot notes. LMAO.

Disclaimer: 18+

Wordcount: 1.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The soft pitter patter of the rain hit the wet, glowing pavement outside. Cars passed by from time to time and people walked down the streets, holding their umbrellas above their heads. There was something about this weather that made you feel warm on the inside. Most people would feel doleful with this kind of weather, but not you. It filled you with a warm feeling that it would pool in your stomach, almost bursting and invading your veins. 

It felt peaceful. 

This cute bookshop cafe that stood on the corner of your street was the only place that made you feel safe lately. Autumn season was starting, and the trees were turning into their orange and yellow hues, surrounding the city of London. The string of light bulbs that hung around the bookshop cafe and the dark wooden shelves made the place feel cozy. It was almost like you were stepping into another world when you entered this place. 

Claire De Lune was playing in a low volume around the shop as you picked up your cappuccino and took a sip. You have been sitting at the small table beside the window for about an hour now. Your head had been stuck in your book, your focus totally disappearing from the world around you as you indulged in a different universe. 

Moving to London was something you had been thinking about for several years now and, knowing the fact that you finally made it, you couldn’t help but feel at ease. The troubles you left behind in California seemed so far away now, even if it still lived in the back of your mind. There were certain things that you still thought about, still feel the pain from the experiences, but you pushed it away. Something you seemed to be an expert on lately. 

This place has been a peaceful solitude for you. It was quiet enough for you to enjoy the peace whilst reading your book, but also enough crowds for you to not be able to drown in your own deep thoughts, unlike when you were all alone in your flat. 

“New book?” 

You had paused from your reading and had been watching the raindrops roll down the glass window, letting your brain play the game of which raindrop was going to roll down first. Turning your attention away from the window, you looked up to see Sara, the owner of the bookshop cafe. Her light brunette hair was in a ponytail today, hazel eyes twinkling in curiosity. She was wearing her usual apron, while carrying a coffeepot in her hand. 

“Um… yeah. Just got it the other day.” You smiled softly. 

As much as you and Sara had a lot in common and actually had pretty good, interesting conversations, you couldn’t help but distance yourself from her. She was always kind, and her eyes always twinkled with sincerity. It wasn’t like she was the problem. It was you. You had closed yourself off too much from other people, especially strangers. As much as you would love to be friends, there was a part of you that kept hesitating. 

Sara tilted her head and squinted her eyes towards the title of the book you were holding. 

“Oh, Little Women.” She smiled. “That’s a good one.”

“Yeah.” You gazed down at the book cover before looking back up at her. “I have never read the book. Thought I should finally do it this time.”

Sara nodded her head in agreement. Just right before she could say something else, Sara's attention turned to the front door when it opened. 

Both of your eyes caught a man with curly brown hair walking in. He was wearing a navy trench coat and carrying an umbrella. The cold breeze trailed behind him, blowing it through your hair. Sara immediately walked up towards him with a smile. You watched as she greeted him kindly and asked if there was something she could help him with. 

You couldn’t help but reel in the sight of him the moment he gave her a soft smile. From the two months of you hanging out in this shop, you have never seen someone so alluring walking into the shop before. Your eyes were glued to him, and you couldn’t seem to peel them away. 

“Thank you.” He murmured to Sara before disappearing between the tall bookshelves. 

Looking away, you cleared your throat and felt your cheeks ignite as you tried to focus your attention back on your book. You picked up your cappuccino and took another sip when you caught sight of him again when he passed by in front of you. You looked at him through your lashes until you realized how ridiculous you must look in front of him. 

His chocolate button eyes immediately caught yours, making you glance away from him instantly. Your cheeks were as red as a tomato at this point as you set your cup down on the table and focused on the book you were reading. There were a million thoughts running through your mind, cursing yourself for being so weird. He must have thought you were strange for staring at him since the moment he entered the shop. 

From the corner of your eye, you could tell he was smirking slightly as he looked through the books in front of him. Your eyes studied the shop and there were only a couple of people hanging around, looking through the books or sipping coffee and reading their books. You couldn't help but curse at yourself mentally again for bringing so much attention to yourself in front of him. 

You hated the attention, and you certainly didn’t need a stranger’s attention when all you wanted was to enjoy your book and mind your own business. 

“That’s a classic.” He interrupted your thoughts.

You just now realized that you have been reading the same line in the book repeatedly because your mind was distracted by him. When you slowly gazed up at him, you saw a kind, soft smile tugging on his lips, and you swore you felt your knees went slightly weak. 

“So, I’ve heard.” You replied, giving him a slight smile back. 

There was no going back now. 

Now that he was standing near to you, you could see the freckles on his face and his long lashes fluttering softly. A strand of curl fell perfectly on his forehead and little drops of water from the rain covered his trench coat.

Your eyes fell on the book he was holding before biting your lower lip. You have read that book because Sara had recommended it to you before, and you knew what was the text behind it. It sure made you glad that he wasn’t afraid to read things like that. The man glanced down at the book he was holding before snickering.

“Something wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head, biting down your inner cheek to stop yourself from smiling. It wasn’t like the book was all… sex. It was about finding yourself and knowing what you want. Although, knowing the people you had before in your life, they certainly judged you for reading something like that. So, you couldn’t help but have that glued to your brain that maybe those kinds of books weren’t really everyone’s cup of tea. 

“Nothing wrong with a little… erotica.” You murmured before he chuckled softly. 

“I think it’s sexy.” He gave you a small smirk, studying the cover page of the book. “I’m assuming you read it before?”

“Um… maybe.” You gave him a playful smile.

He hummed approvingly, “So, tell me… Is it really just about… sex?”

He squinted his eyes at you, and you could tell he was teasing. Leaning back in your chair, you marked the page that you were reading and closed the book. 

“No, it’s about the characters finding themselves and how intimacy can be in different ways other than just physical. I don’t want to spoil too much for you, though.” 

He stared at the book cover again and nodded in agreement.

“I guess I’ll just have to give back a review when I finish it.” Smiling, his eyes studied you for a moment before walking away. 

What did he mean by that? 

You stopped yourself from getting up from your seat as he made his way towards the coffee counter. It was rare for you to encounter certain people that pull your gravity towards them. The moment he entered the shop, you felt that pull already. That micro conversation that you both just had, you already felt the spark between you two. 

Letting out a small sigh, you pushed the thoughts away and told yourself that he was just a stranger. 

A stranger with a nice smile. 

For a few minutes, you went back to indulging yourself in your book, finishing your cappuccino before you heard the front door open. Feeling the breeze through your hair again, you glanced up to find him giving you a warm smile before walking out the door. 

Accepting it, you knew it was one of those rare occasions where you would meet someone interesting and lose them forever. It wasn’t like you were interested in meeting somebody these days, but sometimes, you couldn’t help but think that it would be nice too to have a small meet-cute in a bookshop.

God, you have been reading too many books lately. It was getting in your head.

“Seems like someone has taken an interest in you.” Sara smiled, placing an apple turnover on a plate for you. 

“I didn’t order this.” You shook your head, pushing the plate towards her lightly.

“Someone did for you.” Sara winked. 

You turned your head to the side, side eyeing her before Sara chuckled softly at your reaction. 

“That cute man just asked if you were a regular customer here.” Sara explained. “Don’t worry, I didn’t give out any details. Though he insisted on at least getting you a pastry.”

Staring at the apple turnover that was in front of you, you bit back a smile before looking out the window. He was gone, and you didn’t even get the chance to thank him. 

You couldn’t help but wonder why he did such a gesture. 

***********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @quinnyficsy @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf @mvnsonlover @mdurdenpitt @siriuslysmoking @blueleonor @bejeweled13swiftie @reoalessandra

[azisfan]

Men are not more variable wtf. Do you even read papers about things you claim to know about? The said variability has no genetical basis and in fact was never supported by geneticists (they always favored greater female variability due to hormonal status), is not observed universally in animals (at best males are more variable only in specific areas, but at the same time females are more variable in others) and is supported only by psychological studies, aka studies of the status quo, and the papers supporting this theory literally use cherry-picked data, even the dude who created (actually revived - this idea existed in Darwin times) this hypothesis (yes, hypothesis, it literally is not proven and therefore cannot be stated as a fact, I will kindly remind you.) later published another study where he retracted his previous words and said that taking everything in account shows that men are not more variable in everything than women. I am not even talking about the fact that a lot of papers studying human capabilities either never calculated differences in variability, or were never published publically in the first place - it is a common issue for meta-analyses. There was a meta-analysis published by a woman, which analysed data from hundreds of species and concluded that males were not more variable than females at all - this really butt-hurt some redditors to the point when they started to make their own homemade meta-analyses that debunked her. Haven't you heard of it? I am sure it was reported in the media.

Also, since when males were supposed to be an "experimental sex"? Are you trying to prove greater male variability with your own philosophical interpretation of nature? That doesn't work, because what objectively males are is parasitoid genestealers, who have no purpose existing outside of perpetuating themselves. This is something geneticists will openly admit to you, because all the benefits that males supposedly bring to the species are heavily outweighted by negatives such as their high cost of production. Not to mention sexual reproduction is only theoretically good to weed out bad mutations, but practically is not helping with that at all (men accumulate a shit ton of mutations due to their rapid sperm production for starters).

You are right that feminists should pay more attention to this peculiar theory, but not for the reasons you suggest. We need to critisize this hypothesis because it is clearly a product of coping male mind, that is eager to justify all the social engineering that goes into producing male geniuses, successful CEOs and such, and also erase the deliberate lack of control over deviant males (when people say there are more male idiots, they don't really mean disabled people after all, because they would say "sick" otherwise - they are just talking about their life experiences), presenting it as a "natural thing" instead. Oh, and, of course, it erases the fact of obvious genetical female superiority and male dysgenic genome by presenting their lack of genes and higher mutation rates as something more desirable (that's really funny how mutations are framed in society as something good and to strive for lol - nature has never had any lack of spontaneous mutations, there is a reason why all the systems that exist concerning it are those of mutation rates reduction, including sexual reproduction. And why parthenogenetic species have much more stable genome - their way of compensating of the only benefit of males). It is popular with the most bottom of the barrel men - rhe vanguard of misogyny if you will - for a reason; because it is like the panacea for all their male "issues" of justifying patriarchy.

I am very sad that this idea is so uncritically supported by many women. And frankly I don't understand why. Isn't it obvious that they are just justifying male privelege at least? After so many years of feminist analysis it should be evident why women are less likely to be considered geniuses and occupy more prestigious positions, even the papers that find evidence of greater male variability admit that the amount of female high-achievers is still much-much less than what is predicted by those findings. I really hope you reconsider your position on this question, because I am frankly very frustrated by this bland spot of many women, by the fact that this harmful idea so easily lands into their minds.

PS: I cannot provide sources for my claims, sorry, but they are either searchable or logically coherent. The reason for it is that I gave up collecting all those studies like pokemons and deleted them all from my favorites, because it was really some kind of soul-draining consumerism. Ideally, just saying one contradiction should be enough to disprove it (as per the status of hypothesis) and yet I feel pressured to overexplain myself to cover all the weak spots possible. That's because people believe such things, like "women are more emotional", because they want, and therefore all the evidence for the validity of said ideas is literally fabricated by the virtue of self-fullfilling prophecy.

radblr hot takes? 🔥

what nuanced take do you feel easily shamed for on radblr?

[imagine-darksiders]

Just a random idea I thought I’d share:

I have a personal headcanon that humans are the only species that experience Déjà vu. The human mind is so wonky and vivid in such an alien way to others that humans are the only ones capable of this.

Just imagine a human taking a moment cause they just experienced it and have to try and explain what it is to their confused horsemen/maker/angel whoever. I feel like they’d be anywhere from confused to astonished like, “You can see the FUTURE?? And this is NORMAL for humans?!? Why didn’t you tell me!” And the human is just trying to backtrack, “Well I can only ‘remember’ it when it was already happening.”

Humanity gets the Universe’s worst superpower, per the norm.

[crooked-wasteland]

I've always seen Helluva boss as a show that try so hard to be something isn't, and after reading your articles about BoJack horseman and how hb directly borrowed some of its ideas . It's started to make sense so here's my take:

Helluva boss can't be BoJack or anti-BoJack , there is room for inspiration sure . But the difference between two shows make it odd whenever someone try to compare them. Since BoJack is story of American man who happened to have a horse head, therefore the protagonist is forced to obey the morality rules that we as audience have . Helluva boss is story of demons live in society that only value violence , the rules of morality is broken in this world so where it makes sense for the show to calls out BoJack's toxic dating patterns, why should i care for blitzø's that man cannonly makes fun of children deaths of cours he's not a good partner. Another thing that BH like other many adults cartoon is critical of American culture (Hollywood culture for BoJack case) and while HB trying to do the same it only water down its world , you can point out to something relatable to our society without loosing the fantasy elements in your world especially if your otherworldly character travel to the human world constantly and see it from stranger point of view, but hb didn't do that it just turned the hell to american , and maybe this is thing bugs only me as non-western . It would be more entertaining if we explore the hellish society as something new and fresh.

(out of topic sorry)

But even if we want BoJack-like show the writer clearly don't know why BoJack works but I don't need to tell you since you already wrote about that, I remember watching a clip of livestream where medrano admit she blind-love her favourite media without critical thinking and I think this is her biggest weakness, she's the kind of person who would see something cool in TV so she applies it to her OCs without a further thinking which explains the directe reference of others show like BH

These are excellent points. There's a saying in writing that goes "Write what you know". The team who wrote Bojack knew the ins and outs of that Hollywood bubble due to professional experiences. And because Bojack was written by a diverse team of creative people, they even addressed how eating meat would work in a universe with sentient animals. They had the experience and knowledge of setting as well as basic life experience to ask obvious questions in the name of world building.

It's why I argue that Medrano appears to be someone with very few life experiences. Not only does her story lack emotional depth, having a shallow well to draw from, but basic rules of world building are neglected in a way that is very obvious due to a lack of human curiosity.

Writing what you know isn't supposed to be limiting. Instead it's supposed to challenge you to ask more questions. Expand what you know to incorporate it into your imagination.

[thedream14]

I really love the idea of ​​Logan assuming that Wade has always been a mutant, only to find out in some random way that Wade was actually a “fail” experiment.

In his home universe, Wade Wilson was a human with extraordinary physical abilities and reflexes, but not a mutant. So, upon seeing his face for the first time in the Void, Logan automatically assumed that this variant of Wilson was definitely a mutant. Besides, it made sense that he wasn't a human. Deadpool could survive literally anything.

(superrrr Angst/Fluff stuff over here)

****

The prompt would go something like this:

One day, while walking through Central Park, they came across a small exhibition of mutant artists. This caught Logan's attention, as he has always openly supported any kind of mutant project.

Without explanation, he dragged Wade towards the exhibition. From the beginning, Logan could notice Wade's nervousness and discomfort. He had become strangely rigid in his movements and for once… He shut up voluntarily.

Feeling a little weird with his partner's attitude, Logan decided to get away from the crowd with Wade. Once in a more private place he asked:

- Ok… Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong with ya, bub ?

- Ahhhh nothing, noopeee, nada !

- You know that I can tell that you are lying, right? Like literally I can Smell it all over you…

- Well… It's pointless really… like really dumb. You don’t have to worry about it…

- Quit the bullshit, mouth! If it was a “dumb” thing, you wouldn't be like this. You didn't even comment on one of the paintings with a fucking tennis ball on it

- Gagged ! No pun intended.

- You fucking idiot - Snikt!

- Ok ok relax !!! Pull the kitty claws away…

- I swear, I never thought I'd say this, but starts talking Wade…

- Ok, it's just that... I felt a little out of place. All those mutants… like everybody was happy and talking to each other, I don't know... It's not that I have anything against mutants, of course not, I support the cause. I fuck with all the equal rights for mutants and stuff… it's just that, I don't know... I felt like I shouldn't be there... Also, what if you were recognized, Peanut? Then your community would associate you with me and let's be honest, almost nobody wants that... Nobody wants to be seen with lil old Deadpool, imma right?

Logan is a man of few words. He has always kept control of his thoughts and actions. There are very few times when he decides to remain silent, simply because his mind has gone blank. This is one of those times.

- Hey !!! Earth calling Wolvie… are you okay? Holy shit I think I talked too much again… Look, I’m reeeeeeally sorry…

- What the actual Fuck…

- Excuse me… what?

- Like What the actual Fuck, Wade… I don’t understand. How can you feel out of place among your own people? And what is all that shit about me being seeing with you?

After Seeing his partner's worried face, Logan decided to be a little gentler with his words. He didn't want to close the opportunity of communication between them. Also, Logan didn’t want to make him feel even more insecure.

He really didn't understand the situation and wanted to know what’s going through his lover mind. Soooo with an extreme delicacy, he grabbed his partner's hand and with a sweet gesture, he commented:

- Ok… Princess, don’t worry. I just… want to understand you. Please walk me through it…

- I mean… If you ask that kindly - Respond Wade with a small smile. - Like I told you, I don’t feel welcome between mutants at all… Like the X-men didn’t want me close…

- Fuck the X-men! If they don't want you around, it doesn't mean that any other mutant will feel good in your company. I love your company. As mutants we have to watch our backs together…

- Wait wait wait… I truly loveeee all this sweet speech of yours, I truly am… but peanut… Their is a detail. I’m not a mutant… or at least, I wasn’t born as one… you knew that, right? Righttt ???

Again, mind blank. This is a record, Logan should treat Wade with an ice cream as a reward.

- Ok… Well, I guess you didn't know

- How?

- Excuse me, love… How what exactly?

- How you become one? I mean… you are saying that you aren’t a mutant. Then what happened?

- Ohhh Peanut, buckle up for a sappy Origen story !!!

To say that Logan was not prepared for the story would be an overstatement. He had no words to describe the pain that was crossing his heart.

Logan could empathize with Wade's suffering, but fail to assimilate the fear and hopelessness that Wade probably felt in those darker times. It’s not easy to accept the end of the road when you have loved ones around you.

- And like I told you, I'm not exactly welcome anywhere… I'm not human enough to be well regarded on the streets and I'm not mutant enough to play nice with the X-Men and their little joy club. It's not like I want to be with them either... They're all idiots who can kiss my disfigured fucking ass ... But I'd be lying if I told you I wouldn't like to belong somewhere... I don't like feeling lost, Logan. That’s why I take good care of my family… That’s why I try to take a good care of you…

- Wade… I…

- Nope, no words Peanut. It’s ok. I’m used to it. I… I just need time. Besides, I don't want to cause you any trouble. Like I said, I want you to be happy. I don't want any doors to be closed to you because of me. I would hate myself even more if you were excluded because of me. That's why I'm worried that you'll be seen with me in such a public way…. I love you and I want the best for you, Logan…

- Wade… This is too much… I

- Ohhhh I’m sorry… I don’t want to be overwhelming… I just…

- No… It’s not that… It’s too much to process… I… Wade, I love you… I truly love you. I’m not good with words, but I could tell you how much I love you and how much I love and crave your company. I don’t give a fuck about anybody else… I want you by my side all the time.

- Ohhh Peanut, it’s ok…

- No, it’s not ok. Stop it. It’s not ok what you been through. It’s not fucking ok how you being treated and I swear to god, it’s not ok how you been excluded by the people that was supposed to help you… So fuck it ! Fuck them ! Fuck all of them !!! We don’t need them, princess !!! We are better without them !

- Come Logan, don’t say that ! That’s why I didn’t want to tell you…

- No, Wade. Don’t ever lie to me about this things. We are partners, lovers, whatever you want to call us. We are together. If you are not welcome, neither I am.

With even a greater gentleness, Logan released Wade's hands to hold his face. His eyes were tearful with emotion.

At that moment, Logan remembered how beautiful the love of his life truly was. He also made a promise to himself, he would never let anyone hurt Wade again.

- I need you to engrave this inside your head my princess, I would never be ashamed of loving you. Of holding your hands, kissing your face and hugging your body. I will never regret chosen you !

Immediately, Logan ended that promise of love with a sweet and slow kiss.

Wade did not deserve to be an open secret. Wade was his mutant lover and no one could change that fact.

***

I was cooking this in my sleepless nights… I need to rest, but my insomnia is severe and F up…

I hope you liked this 🤯

[katerinaaqu]

It's hard talking about the disrespect to Greek mythology and religion when every argument people brings to the table is "look at this original novel that is adapted into a movie that is turned into a tv show that didn't follow the original plot" as if the Greek culture is on par with fictional story instead of a tradition and heritage of real life people.

A media that is broadcast to the public and make accessible to everyone that erased the values and lesson of a cultural story still can do harm when it feeds misunderstanding and misinterpretion of the culture it originated from.

Greek people has the right to be upset when their culture keeps getting misrepresented, doesn't matter the good intentions behind it, why must it be at the expense of Greek culture?

You can create arts that is so beautiful and so praises by many, and years from now you could look back and see what an amazing experience and community you have created out of it. But at the same time you also continue feeding the distorted ideas and flawed understanding about a culture as a whole.

All because you took from a culture and want to tell your own story.

Retelling is telling back the story. Any addition or new ideas you bring is when there's part in the original story that is vague or open for interpretations. Even then, when you elaborate, you follows the already presented ideas that the original story already established.

If it so beloved to you and so meaningful to you, why couldn't you be faithful when adapting and retelling with the talents you have?

Shouldn't it be better if you created an original story inspired by it? If you feels that the values and standards are not to your taste, but you so loved the stories and could related to it, isn't it better to create original characters and settings with your own voice and narrative with the story inspiration as the backdrop?

At this point, what is greek mythology and lore to you? That makes you so passionate so inspired, that spark your imagination that encourage you to be creative but it is at the ruin of old age history that is meaningful for the Greek identity. Do you really appreciate the values and moral that you gained from the stories, or did you forget yourself along the way?

I couldn't have said it better! I agree to all that because that is exactly my sentiment as well! On one hand of course I am proud that Greek mythology contnues to inspire and people want to create stuff on them or that even now there are people who think the values of Greek Mythology are universal and they are!

But as you said it pains me to no limits when stories that were literally created from people based on their culture and religion to pass on messages are not only distorted beyond recognition but also to a degree where nowadays most people of Greek mythology liking spectrum know only how terrible villains some men are (in actual mythology they are complicated personas) and how weak women are (there are literlly figures in Greek mythology that are so strong personas that honestly I am shocked. See Helen for example how she is the most projected persona as a pretty face that does nothing when Helen literally taks back to Aphrodite, she is the only one who sees through Odysseus's disguise, she has knowledge of medicine and so much more for once) Mythology loses all its meaning, all its allegory and all its cultural spectrum because as you said people do not use it to retell the story, they use the word "retelling" as their excuse to just tell a story that fits them by using the popularity of greek mythology and yes as you said why cannot they say their original stories while using inspiration from Greek mythology?

Honestly I have nothing to add! You said it all dear Anon!

[definitelynotshouting]

Hi I’m obsesseddddd with your hunger au and after reading the lore doc and the fic I have a couple questions if you don’t mind

Ok first off this isn’t really a question and more like a “huh wouldn’t that be fucked up” thought but uhhhh. So og grian was pretty much trapped in a box and constantly watched while the larva developed right. Did the watchers ever feed off him? Bc I imagine being trapped and just waiting to die wouldn’t be great for your emotional state. Or would they not since he is hosting the larva and that point so they can’t/wont feed on a host? Oh also you said that he made the deal to become a watcher while under duress. I imagine that duress could easily be heightened by some hungry watchers. And having your brain lightly fried would probably make you more susceptible to agreeing to a fucked up situation

And for my second question I was curious how aware the general populace/the hermits are of watchers?? Like are they a known thing and ppl just aren’t sure how they work or what. Because the rescue group had to puzzle out that grian was benefiting from their suffering in some way, but pearl seemed to have some idea of what grian was with the whole “eating our brains” bit so I’m curious what levels of knowledge they’re operating with here

Anyways thanks for reading my silly little thoughts on your amazing au!! It’s so fun I’m having such a good time with the horrible things happening

Im so glad you like the fic, anon!! :DD im always so touched when people tell me they enjoyed it enough to read the lore behind it-- gods ive gotta update that, there are a sizeable amount of newer asks i havent added to it yet, plus my beloved friend @/corvidaearts made a proper carrd for it on my birthday that i plan on replacing the google doc with!!! Just, uh, as soon as i add aforementioned posts dkcjsjdjfj

That would be super fucked up if they fed on him while he was trapped, OUGHHHH.... id say in canon probably not, because feeding off of one Player is really really dangerous for them, and Grian was now a host for their experiment to see if they could bring their population back up. If anything, nobody touched or interacted with him beyond the bare minimum it took to keep him safe from any potential respawns, and it was likely only the colony elders who even had direct access to him in the first place. THAT BEING SAID..... GODS THATS FUCKED UP I LOVE IT. And, well, i suppose one Watcher did feed on him.. which was Grian himself, as he emerged from his Player cocoon. Player!Grian's final moments of agony and terror were amplified to the max as his Watcher-self's very first meal, and that haunts Grian a lot late at night if he lets himself think about it

The duress he was placed under to become a host in the first place involved a significant amount of heightened emotional leverage though, thats for sure. One of these days i need to map out how exactly that went down, but i know that it involved an offer that was not actually an offer, several lies through omission, intimidation tactics that spanned the entirety of Evo in the first place, and using Grian's own fear-- both of them, and for his friends-- against him. Real fucked up situation all around 😔😔😔😔

General populace does not know much if anything about the Watchers!! The Watchers are, aside from this one colony, pretty much extinct; even before that, they relied quite a lot on camouflage and secrecy to keep their presence from being discovered, both by their prey and by the Seekers that hunted them.

Some very very old Players might know whispers of information-- rumors from the tail end of a game of telephone, as it were. And there are for sure a few individuals here and there who know of them due to personal experience (including the entire Evo crew, which was ofc a special case), but because Player information is not centralized in any capacity in this universe, the vast majority of Players have zero knowledge that Watchers even exist, let alone what they do and how they feed.

Pearl, with her previous knowledge and experience with Watchers and how they operated while involved with the Evo server, made some really good educated guesses about how Grian works and what's going on with him. And ofc everyone on Hermitcraft, plus all the lifers, knows that Grian at the very least can manipulate Player emotions to an extreme degree-- putting those context clues together, you can piece together quite a few connections. She doesn't have the full picture, but at this point in time she's basically figured out a good chunk of it. The rest will have to come from Grian himself >:]

[icantspellhocky]

Idk if y’all also kinda feel like the world is ending rn, but here’s some (fictional) podcast reccomendations for when you feel like the world is ending:

Mercury: a broadcast of hope

Mercury a broadcast of hope takes place in the zombie apocolypse and the episodes are 5-10 minutes long. They update every day and the idea is that when the zombie apocolypse happened, some people were stuck in a radio station for a while and decided to start broadcasting so that people felt less alone and more hopeful in these dark times. Some days are just casual days talking about random stuff and some days are talking about deeper stuff but it’s nice to have a reminder that even in the worst of times we still have each other and there are still people fighting for hope. The episodes only last one day long (except for the first couple of seasons) to make it feel like a radio broadcast. I reccomend listening to today’s (Nov 6) episode because it’s very good and it’s about living through a time when you are feeling hopeless. This podcast acknowledges that the world can be shit and we can still try to live in it and that’s worth it. (Also in the podcast world they have been in the zombie apocalypse for I think six years now, so it shows that even when things go to shit you can still try to survive)

World gone wrong

This podcast was created this year and I’m 99% certain that it’s based on our real life fear of the future. In this universe the world is going to shit in a magical way. Shit gets weird pretty randomly. One episodes Sirens start appearing, another has the fair folk, there are were wolves now and time travel and every day they wake up and don’t know what weird world ending shit is going to happen. But they keep getting up and talkign about their experiences. The hosts of the podcasts are making a podcast about the weird shit going on in their world and it’s both interesting and comforting. Because yes things are going to shit but that doesn’t mean that we can’t live our lives and our idea of “okay” might be different now but we can find a meaning for that word anyways. They end their episodes by hoping that we’re baseline.

Midnight burger

This podcast was created during the pandemic. It is about a time travel demention spanning diner. Every day the diner goes to a different place (and there’s always someone there that needs them) and the people in the diner help people with their problems. This can be anything from feeding people a meal while they’re mourning to preventing the end of the world by helping the world make a plan on how to survive. It has this theme of “there’s someone looking out for you” and “even when things are going wrong sometimes you can make things just a little bit better and that matters” while also having an entertaining sci-fi plot. Episodes for this are much longer and come out once a month and it’s very comforting imo to listen to them close the episodes with “and if time and tide royal you too harshly, or diurnal courses leave you with no safe haven, just remember we’re out there, somewhere, looking for you. We open at six!” and that’s very comforting to me.

[sheepwavehdg]

HDG Story Recs: Sheepwaveiverse

so, fuck it, gonna do a writeup of all my own major fics. if they have a genderswapped version, that has its own link. this isn't actually even all of them, some of my oneshots are not on the list. mid length means under 50k words.

Sweet Poppy (F/f), (M/f edit) [Mid length, Completed] - yandere comedy erotica

Amelia is an independent human, who is dating Poppy, one of the aliens that conquered humanity and is known for taking pets. fortunately, Poppy doesn't want a human as a pet, and Amelia is definitely immune to mind control anyway. Its normal for your girlfriend to give you a necklace that doesn't come off, right? And being played with like a docile, empty doll is just a kink thing... As is the training and conditioning... Right? A comedy yandere erotica story with just a tiny bit of psychological horror.

Good Sensory (F/f), (M/f edit)  [Mid length, ongoing] - autism, asexuality, fluff romance, split human/affini pov

A fluffy autism-celebrating kink/romance story about learning to unmask and be loved as the person you actually are, rather than the one you think you're supposed to be. Sally Fable is easily overwhelmed. bad textures, bad sensations, all of it. she also has a lot of experience being made fun of for how passionate she can get. Marsha Lywick is an alien from beyond the stars who wants to break Sally's masking habits and turn her into the cutest little pet imaginable.

Cat and Mouse (F/f) [Long, ongoing, but in an extended epilogue, the plot is complete] - Predprey, dollkink, plurality

Jenny, an extremely clever rebel, fights tooth and tail against her domestication by the Huntress affini Tamai, managing to outsmart the affini several times along the way. an examination of plurality, how hard it is to trust when you've been burned over and over, and the sapphic eroticism of being chased down in the woods. notably features pred/prey and CGL dollkink. Perhaps the sharpest story in the entire setting, do not go in expecting a story without conflict.

Sycanthe Lantana, First Bloom (F/f) [Mid length, Completed] - comedy, romance, affini pov

an extreme youngbloom with a lot of anxiety navigates her savior complex and her role in the affini compact, helped along by her beloved floret. a sweet romcom. This one is fairly lighthearted and sweet.

Sweet Tooth (F/f) [mid length, ongoing] - kidnap intox sweet tooth fixation noncon

Cowritten with PyxxieStyxx! Katherine Stanton has a very rigid, structured life. she likes her plain oatmeal every day, and reading in the park, even though her home assistant AI nags her to stop wearing grey all the time and mix things up. Sirata Saccharum, fifth bloom, thinks Katherine needs an intervening helping vine to inject a little sweetness into her life, and isn't terribly concerned that Katherine disagrees.

Cutting Away (F/f, 2nd person) [oneshot] - horror-erotica, noncon, implantation

A horror-erotica story about implantation, set in the human domestication guide universe, exploring the actual process of the implant integration with a human brain.

Alder's Prize (M/f), Adelira's Prize(F/f) [Mid length, ongoing] - Noncon, forcefem, scent kink

A forcefem story about a marine who thinks "he" is an alpha wolf gets adopted by an affini who intends to have the happiest little puppygirl slut as a trophy. cowritten with 4WheelSword.

Surrogate Bloom (pansexual) [Mid length, ongoing] - pregnancy kink, polyamory, independent life

a xenophilic hedonist independent human in her fifties, Hannah, is proposed with an idea: let her girlfriend Reiko and her alien boyfriend grow plant biotech inside her lower abdomen for kink reasons. shes super into it, but the journey involves unpacking a lot of why maternalism is something she thinks she can only ever pretend at.

A Taste of Class-Ω (F/f, 2nd person) [oneshot] - Class-O play, Affini Pov, romantic but also kinda scary

a reader(affini) x floret story where 'you' tease your pet with a simulated class-O experience.

Ache of Maculatum (M/f), Song of Picaria (F/f) [Long, Completed] - romance, transhumanism, trauma processing

one of the most brilliant physicists of the terran accord plants her feet in the ground and refuses to adapt to the Compact. This story is both a very horny transhumanist romance, and also a character study in internalized transmisogny, narcisism, and still deserving love no matter what.

The Captain's Toy (M/m) (M/f) (F/f) [oneshot] - imperialism, posthumanism, mind control kink

A standalone sequel oneshot to Aom/Sop, set 750 years later.

Hope for the Future (F/f, 2nd person) [oneshot] - Noncon, Affini Pov, horror-erotica

a second person Affini POV oneshot about meeting a terran "you" (the reader) just really can't stop thinking about, maybe to the point of obsession... A story as much about kink as it is about complicated feelings about art, parasociality, and being misinterpreted.

HDG, Past//Present//Future [Nonfiction Essay]

a nonfiction critical analysis of the Human Domestication Guide setting, community, and fandom as it exists and may change moving forward, from the perspective of an author who writes it.

Vex and Valda (M/f) (F/f edit) [Short, Completed....maybe?] - edgy noncon erotica

a short but very mean forcefem noncon story about a trillionare being taught the value of sharing.

Pencil (F/f) [oneshot] - comedy-erotica, hypnosis, object fixation

A very chill human pet and her extremely anxious owner engage in some silly hypnotic roleplaying with personality overlays and object fixation.

Your Alien Boyfriend Who Definitely Sees You As His Full Equal (M/f second person), (F/f second person edit) [oneshot] - erotica, sadomasochism, dubcon

A oneshot, written in second person about "your" alien partner that likes to play along with the notion you aren't already thier toy, adores how much of a doll you become in thier arms, and knows how much you like to be hurt- better than you do.

David, the Independent Terran (M/f, Male mc) [oneshot] - slice of life, just a guy, independent life, he fucks trans girls and is a cool dude

David is a cisgendered, heterosexual independent Terran living in the Affini compact. No, seriously. He actually is all of those things. His buddies, of course, are now all queer transfem human pets, and this is a story about what parts of thier dynamic have changed, and what parts have stayed the same.

A Wedding In Crimson (F/f second person) [oneshot] - wedding, romance, surgery

Implantation is very analogous to marriage to the affini. what if they were literally combined into a single ceremony? A oneshot, written in second person about "your" wedding to an affini surgeon.

Kristina_Rushko's Domestication Blog (F/f) [oneshot] - Noncon, Experimental formatting

An absolute Karen starts a blog to vent about how she's going to give the affini a piece of her mind when they arrive. things diverge from her expectations.

[harpidiem]

I'm not sure how to word this. how do you not get jealous from other artists? it just seems unattainable to get the results I want. sorry if this is a strange question.

it's not strange, don't worry.

I get jealous more often than not, and being jealous is what can drive you to make better things. I think it's important like. how you turn a negative feeling into something good.

I was rewatching Ghost In The Shell 1995 a few days ago while I worked, and I was looking at the background coloring and the animation and the subtle choices that are made in the movie, and I felt overwhelmed and sad and angry that I have no where near the skill a single frame exhibits. I think my experience is universal to artists.

The thing is, every artist has the ability to make great things. it will take a long long time, but I fully believe that you can make wonderful things just like the artists you look up to. it's good to have high expectations. I think until recently I fell out of love with the idea that I can make something as good as the stuff I look up to, and that's not true. I can. and you can too.

I know it's hard, and maybe my advice is angering, but you really do have to turn jealousy into something productive. you'll get there

[minkei]

nishiki and kiryu but they are both part of a formula 1 team owned by majima

[screwpinecaprice]

@glowweek Day 1

DARK | GLOW

They stayed up until 5 am and now it's almost 4 pm.

Aahshsjgwgiashsh He's suppose to be blocking Connie's face from the sunbeam after he woke up from her stirring to cover her own face.

[edit] This was way too dark than I thought. Here's a brighter version.