#this experience was just a couple of months ago and it still pisses me off

[deadinsidewithglitterontop]

I think I might be the only one in my class that is openly against the use of AI in any type of project, cause 98% of my friends and classmates seemly to just gave up on using their brain capacities and use chatGPT on their pieces and essays.

Recently I was doing a group project with some friends of mine - we were supposed to read a text and write a essay about it. We were a group of three so we divided what each one of us would read and write so none of us get overwhelmed with our parts, and for some reason I was having a hard time doing my part, I don't really know why, I would read and read and read and understand the text and know what I needed to write down but for some godamn reason I couldn't write. I was going through a block.

When we were getting close to the day we were supposed to turn the project in, my friends were asking me why I was taking so long to finish my piece cause it never took so long for me to finish an essay and it was only my part that was missing to completely finish the project. I answered that I didn't know why I was having such difficulty writing this but I was still trying to finish my part - and then my friends suggested I used chatGPT to write my piece.

The worst part is that they know my opinions about AI and its using on academic projects, and even if they were just trying to be helpful and find another solution for me csuse they could see that I was getting frustrated with that project, suggesting that I use chatGPT to finish an essay I know I'm pretty capable of writing is the equivalent of them punching me and kicking me in the guts.

I voiced my displeasure in their suggestion but they said that there might not have any other way to do it if we wanted to turn that project on time. I know that they didn't mean it in a bad way but I felt my intelligence and capacity being doubted at the simply fact that the first thing they suggested me to do is to use a chatbot. They still tried to comfort me saying that "the teacher won't notice, there's no problem in using it" ... my dude, when I say that the anger that I felt at that moment was enough motivation to put my thoughts in order and quickly finish writing my part of the project myself to prove that I am intelligent and capable enough to write essays better than any AI could.

Is not about using it to finish you projects quickier, is about letting a chatbot do a mediocre work for you knowing full well that you are capable of doing it and doing it good, but still choose the easier and poorly option instead of giving your best on a thing you know you're very much capable of doing, even if it doesn't ends up looking how you wanted it to look, but YOU did it, you but your brain and back and time and effort onto it.

Of course people could argue that using chatGPT is easier and quicker and could save a lot of time and work, but we have a brain and we're supposed to use it. Using AI to basically write your homework for you to me is like saying that you stopped using your brain altogether. Congratulations you just gave up on learning new things by yourself and doing things on your own and now need a chatbot to give you wrong information about a chapter of a book you could've well read and write about it if you just use 1% of your brain capacity.

when someone mentions using ai at me like chatgpt i physically feel my body recoil and my opinion of them rapidly decrease like in the sims

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for telling my boyfriend’s coworkers that he’s lying about his body count?

I (35f) have been dating my boyfriend (32m) for four years. It’s honestly been the best relationship until last Friday when it all went down. I feel like I’m in the right, but now I’m wondering if I overstepped.

For context, my boyfriend has been a professional Slasher for about eight months now. He’s always really admired Cryptids, Monsters, and Nightmares so when his application was finally accepted, he was over the moon even if he was starting in a lower position than he initially applied for.

At his company, being a Slasher requires a lot of travel which we knew when he accepted the position. The end goal is for him to get a promotion to at least regional Nightmare (he wants Cryptid, but that position doesn’t have a lot of turnover) but to get that he needs to be in role for at least 12 months OR meet his goals for three months in a row. Once he promotes, we plan to relocate to his new region and “start talking about our future.”

(Side note: no this isn’t about him not popping the question yet. We are both in agreement that marriage comes after financial stability. I run a small business doing scare consults and, while it’s been growing, I wouldn’t call it stable yet. So neither of us are ready.)

I told him it’s completely normal for it to take a whole year before he’s ready to promote and he really should focus on adjusting to the company before thinking about next steps. I used to work for a competitor (I’ve been retired for five years now) and I know it can be hard to go from only taking the occasional human life to having to take over half a dozen a week. It’s not a light workload, no matter how easy it looks in the movies. One of my best friends Slashes part-time and she still only averages about five lives a week despite having done it for years. Especially these days, it can be really hard to meet quota. Humans are getting smarter, no matter what the Council wants us to think.

Anyway, boyfriend didn’t do as well as he thought he would in his first couple months. Totally understandable, of course, which I told him. I suggested he ask his boss if he could be put on a couple team assignments or even a duo until he got the hang of it. That was our first real fight. He thought I was doubting his ability to kill. He brought up how I told him it would take over a year to promote and how I said that this job wasn’t for everyone (His first assignment ended with a 0% kill rate, but that’s a different story). He said it felt like I didn’t believe in him and he said that if that was the case then maybe we shouldn’t be thinking about marriage so soon.

It got pretty messy after that. I felt like he was forgetting that I’d worked in the same field and, arguably, had a lot more experience (not to brag, but I averaged a 98% kill rate). Also, four years is NOT too soon to talk about marriage. He said I didn’t understand how he needed to focus on his career right now. I told him I thought he was taking Slasher too lightly just because it wasn’t Cryptid. He accused me of not respecting him and then things spiraled from there.

We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean and I’m embarrassed that it turned into a bit of a fang measuring contest. I ended up sleeping under the bed for a few nights until he coaxed me out to apologize.

It was a rough patch, but we talked it out. We agreed that, going forward, I wouldn’t offer advice unless he asked and he would try not to take so much of his frustration home with him. He took a weekend off and we went on a recreational haunting trip in the Montana woods.

Things did get better after that. I tried not to give him consults every time he came back from a work trip. He started bringing me souvenirs like roses and cursed puzzle boxes his work said he could have. It became easier just to hang out with each other and it felt like we were back to normal.

But then, four months ago, he came home super pissed because his boss put him on a PIP. (A performance improvement plan.) Apparently, boyfriend had not been doing better at work, he had just stopped telling me when he had a bad assignment. I saw the paperwork he got (he left it in the dungeon under the house, I didn’t go through his stuff) and he’s been missing quota by a LOT. As a junior Slasher, he was supposed to be executing at least 6 people a week, but he’d been lucky to be maiming half that.

Obviously, I had to talk to him about that. We rent our house and, even though I could have afforded the rent on my own, I didn’t want to jeopardize the investments I was making in my business (I was in the process of hiring an assistant to handle my scheduling). Plus, we agreed from day one that we would be 50/50 on rent and I would take care of the rest of the bills because I earned more. I felt that if his financial situation was in jeopardy, he needed to talk to me about it.

I tried to approach him a bit differently than last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I told him about my slasher friend and how maybe she could give him advice if he didn’t want any from me. But he said he needed to figure stuff out on his own and that if he couldn’t get himself off the PIP then he would go back to work for his dad’s janitorial company.

I let it go. I was worried but I didn’t want to fight again just after patching the holes from the last blow out. It really bugged me that he thought I didn’t believe in him so I committed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said okay and asked him if he needed me to meal prep for both of us that week. He offered me grocery money, but I said it was fine since I’d had to deal with a lot of humans breaking in lately and I still had some leftover in the dungeon.

Fast forward a month. Boyfriend got off the PIP super fast. He worked his way off of it over Spring Break and started taking on a lot of extra assignments. In just four weeks he went to Miami Beach twice, New York City twice, and to three separate summer camps. I missed him and it was hard not having him around but I remembered how he said he needed to focus on his career and I tried not to nag.

It was hard not to nag though. With him gone, all the housework fell on me. We rent a 19th century manor, and its upkeep really does need two people. Doing all the chores plus running my business started to really drain me. Even when he was home, he forgot to banish the ghosts (my chore is to kill all invading humans, and his chore is to banish their ghosts) and he never took out the trash. I think he cleaned blood off the dungeon walls once, but then I had to basically redo it because he missed a lot of spots.

But still, I didn’t say anything because he was doing really well at work and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. Even when Humans started breaking in every week, I didn’t complain even though it interrupted my work day.

Last month though, I did ask him if we could move somewhere that needed less maintenance. There were just way too many Humans breaking in and I didn’t have the time to deal with them anymore. Even if I don’t do all the theatrics I used to as a Cryptid, killing humans through fear still takes a lot of time. He asked me if I didn’t appreciate the free meat, and I said I would appreciate it more if I wasn’t the only butchering it.

He said he didn’t want to move because he was really close to getting promoted to regional Nightmare and he didn’t want to take time off work to move. I was so surprised that I couldn’t hide how surprised I was. He saw and got offended. He asked if I still didn’t believe in him. I said that I did, but it was a huge jump to go from an 8% kill rate to getting promoted.

He got even more mad at me for bringing up his stats and he said that he had nearly 80% kill rate since being put on the PIP. I asked how many humans a week he was slashing and he told me I was being too nosy and that was proof that I didn’t believe in him.

I asked him if we could at least hire a ghoul then to keep the humans out of my office and he said he didn’t want to waste the money that we should be saving for our new house. I asked him what he wanted me to do then? I had to take phone calls for my consulting business and it was really hard to stalk humans all around the house while trying to sound like a professional to my clients.

He asked me to be patient for one more month. He said if he met quota for one more month, his boss said he’d get promoted. So I said fine and let it go.

Fast forward to now, almost a full month later.

Last Friday, I attended the Eldritch Conference. For those not in the scare field, the Eldritch Conference is the most prestigious event in our industry. It’s invitation only and is a chance to network with all the big players in the field. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bloody Mary and Bigfoot all spoke this year and both my former company, Grudge Industries, and my boyfriend’s current company, Forgotten Summer Solutions, were invited.

I was surprised to get an invite as a solo contributor to the field. However, my consulting firm has really been doing well and I did land a seasonal contract with the Yeti Co-op which I guess is how they heard about me. Plus, I’ve been a speaker before so I think the organizers knew I would behave myself.

I was planning on telling my boyfriend that I was going, but he was out of town on a co-ed sleepover assignment. He usually doesn’t have his phone on during his assignments, so I didn’t bother calling him. I just figured it’d be nice if we ran into each other at the conference if he made it back in time.

Which brings me to what actually happened (apologies for the long post).

So everything went great for my part of the day. I got to network with a lot of individual businesses and even got to reconnect with Blood Mary who I knew back in my Cryptid days. I told her I was dating a Slasher from Forgotten Summer Solutions and invited her to come with me to check out their booth. I thought it would be fun to grab dinner with her after since I assumed if my boyfriend was there, he’d be going out with coworkers which he often does. Plus, I admit, I was showing off a little. I don’t often get the chance to brag about my Cryptid days.

She agreed and we went over to see if my boyfriend was there.

I introduced myself to the people manning the booth. My boyfriend wasn’t there, but a few Slashers recognized my name and greeted me. They were definitely in awe of Bloody Mary (she came in full uniform) and invited us to look at their displays. They had portfolios for each Slasher on the desk as a sort of preview of what their services looked like.

While Bloody Mary looked through the portfolios, I chatted with my boyfriend’s coworkers. They said they were thrilled to work with him and that, even though he had a really rough start, it was impressive how quickly he started meeting his goals. Something about how they talked about his work kind of didn’t make sense. They were talking like he was killing a dozen humans a week, but he’d told me that he was at 80% on his assignments which typically only offer about ten humans each.

I asked them about it and they said that he’d been Slashing during After Hours which is a new goal supplement program his company launched a few months ago. Basically, anyone can sign up for After Hours and the company counts human kills done in uniform as part of their quota. I asked them if this was available to them while they were on assignment and they said no, it had to be done when they had down time. I asked them how my boyfriend was part of that when he was traveling all the time and they looked confused. One of them said that my boyfriend is still getting one assignment per week and is then supplementing his kill rate with After Hours.

At that point, I was even more confused. It sounded like my boyfriend had been lying to me then, because he told me that he was getting at least two assignments a week. If he was only getting one, then where was he going when he said he was traveling?

Bloody Mary interrupted before I could say anything and asked how their Slashers did their kills. They said that every Slasher at their company is required to use a standard issue weapon (like a machete or axe) for their kills to count. They said their company doesn’t count accidents as part of their quota (like falling or heart attacks).

Bloody Mary pulled me aside and showed me the portfolio she was holding. She said that she was going to give me a chance to explain without them overhearing and showed me the book. She said that a bunch of kills in it looked Cryptid kills. And she said, specifically, it looked like the kills I made when I was a Cryptid. I took the book from her and flipped through it and she was right, they really did look like Cryptid kills. Worse, I recognized a few of the Humans from the past few weeks. They were actually my kills!

Kill stealing is a major taboo in our industry.

I told her I didn’t know anything about this. She looked really relieved at that and said that even though I wasn’t a Cryptid anymore, it would look really bad for me if I was caught helping a Slasher cheat at their job. It could affect my business which she’d only heard good things about.

I’m embarrassed to say that I tried to defend him. He’s new to our industry so I thought it might be a mistake. He might not be trying to cheat, this could be a misunderstanding.

She said she didn’t think so because a mistake would be one or two of my kills mixed in with his, not the entire book.

I counted up how many photos were in the book and, all told, of the 146 kills, at least 100 were mine. I couldn’t really say it was a mistake at that point and I was just staring at his portfolio like an idiot. Bloody Mary asked me what I was going to do because, mistake or not, this looked really bad and could damage my reputation if it got out.

At that moment, another man walked up to booth and asked us if there was a problem. I knew that if I said anything, I would be jeopardizing my boyfriend’s job, but if I didn’t say something, I was jeopardizing my business.

I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count. I said I didn’t think that they knew he was doing it, but over half of the kills in his portfolio weren’t his and I suggested they remove it from their display before another Cryptid came by and realized it.

The other man thanked me for bringing this to his attention and asked how we knew. Bloody Mary said that she knew another Cryptid’s kills and I had to tell them that I was that Cryptid, though I was retired now. He asked me if I knew my boyfriend was doing this, and I told him no.

I told him I really didn’t want to get my boyfriend in trouble and suggested that maybe he didn’t know those kills didn’t belong to him because they happened in our house. I was grasping at straws and Blood Mary even looked sad for me. His coworkers looked skeptical but tentatively agreed. The man – who turned out to my boyfriend’s boss – said that they would investigate this thoroughly and apologized personally for his employee’s misconduct.

I was spiraling at that point so I thanked him and said I wasn’t mad, I was just looking out for both of our reputations. He promised to keep it between us and I agreed.

Then I apologized to Bloody Mary because I didn’t feel like eating dinner anymore. She said she understood and wished me well.

I went home and did a quick perimeter search of the property. Sure enough, there were human summoning stones ALL OVER the yard. Which means my boyfriend was intentionally luring humans to our house to get me to kill them so he could take credit. It wasn’t a mistake at all.

My boyfriend came home later that night in his work clothes. As soon he got inside he started yelling. He said he was suspended without pay and that all his hard work was for nothing.

I said I knew he’d been stealing my kills and he almost ruined my reputation. He said they still counted as his kills because he did all the work of luring the humans to our house.

I told him that wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. He said it was the same as setting a trap and I was taking this too seriously. I told him that, as a Slasher, he has to use a weapon to get his kills, not me. He said I was basically the same thing since I had such a high kill rate. I asked him if he was calling me an object.

(My parents exploited me by selling me as a haunted doll through a lot of my childhood and he knows I’m sensitive to being called an object.)

He backpedaled at that point and asked if I didn’t want to buy a house together. He said he was doing it for us and I should’ve understood and not said anything. I told him that when I was a Cryptid I had my pride and would’ve never done this.

He said I needed to tell his boss that he was the one who made all those kills. I said it wasn’t me who recognized them as Cryptid kills and now his boss knew too. He accused me of thinking I’m better than him because I have telekinetic powers and can move through shadows and can possess people, while he’s basically a human himself. I told him of course not and that I worked hard for those powers unlike him.

He got really mad at that and actually charged at me with his machete raised. I don’t think he was going to actually hit me, but I reacted like he was. It was all instinct. I disarmed him and I swear I heard a crack when I grabbed his wrist. I shoved him into the wall.

 He crumpled to the floor and started crying. He said sorry and sort of curled up around his wrist. He said he didn’t ever feel like he was enough for me and he didn’t even know why I was still with him. He called himself a bunch of names and said I would be better off without him.

I sort of awkwardly stood there for a minute. On one hand I wanted to assure him that he was enough and that I loved him, but, on the other, I wasn’t sure I could forgive him. He nearly ruined my reputation, and he embarrassed me in front of Bloody Mary. Plus, I still didn't know where he’d been going all those times he said he was on a business trip and apparently wasn’t.

So I ended up not saying anything. I went to our room and started packing a bag. He followed me. He was still crying as he begged me not to go. He said he would own up to his kill steals at work and he would make it right. He pleaded for me not to leave him and that he would give up slashing.

I told him I needed space to think. He tried to grab me, but I shadow walked out of the house. I heard him screaming from outside and I hurriedly drove away.

Now I’m at my friend’s house and I told her everything. She agreed I did the right thing walking away from him, but when I asked her what I should do she hesitated. She said that my boyfriend wasn’t right to kill steal but, as a fellow Slasher, she understood what he was going through. She said I wouldn’t understand the pressure to meet quota because I was always surpassing mine when I was in the field. She said that a Cryptid could never understand a Slasher.

She also said that nobody would have found out about his kills if I hadn’t brought them to his boss’ attention. She said the only time kills are on display like that is at the Eldritch Conference and by the next one, he’d have had kills of his own. She thinks that if I’d just confronted him at home, he wouldn’t be on suspension.

So now I’m worried that I overreacted when I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count.

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! Several amazing supernatural citizens (aka my Patrons) gave great advice to our poor OP over on my Patreon! Please go check them out here (X)

(I will definitely be posting some of them here in the near future!)

My next supernatural AITA is already up to my patrons!

It's called "AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied about his human job?"

Patrons get to see many of my stories a week ahead! If that interests you please check me out here (X)!

[songmingisthighs]

Whatcha Gonna Do About It ?

group : ateez

pairing : brat!wooyoung × milf!reader

genre : smut

wc : 3.3 k

tw : mdni, explicit smut, age difference (legal ofc), unprotected sex (std ew), wooyoung being annoying, reader in her mid-to-late 30s, wooyoung calling reader mommy, masturbation (m), wooyoung in some sort of a sub space ? but like... brat, slapping like.. twice?, creampie

a/n : requested by anon and part of my milf deal with @luvt0kki !! >:D

buy me coffee ?

Warm sun, cold drink, the soft murmur of people by the pool of the country club, sometimes you appreciate your husband for moments like this.

Well, ex-husband.

While you made peace with the fact that your marriage ended years before, the divorce still brought a bitter taste in your mouth. Years spent with that asshole and he had the gall to come to you with the bimbo who couldn't even spell the word 'homewrecker' without writing it with a crayon, asking for you to help him raise the baby as the girl was willing to get paid to let go of maternal responsibilities and instead get paid to go to beauty school. Served you right for letting your parents set you with him when you were still so young just for the money. Safe to say you got the penthouse, the luxury and the community while he got the bill and the 19-year-old high school dropout with a baby on the way. Not even your son who idolized his father wants to have anything to do with his father and while your ex said it was just him being a 12-year-old, you knew better. So while your ex had to redo his whole life and regain his credibility, you were left simmering in unresolved anger and frustration. Though by the poolside, in your ridiculously expensive bikini that you bought just to piss your ex off, you found the experience rather pleasant.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here,"

Speaking of children.

Barely giving him a glance, you took a sip of your mojito and adjusted your sunglasses, "Hello, Wooyoung," you greeted half-heartedly.

Jung Wooyoung is someone you want to avoid when you're at the club. He's a notorious tease and a player and everyone knows it but has no means to stop him due to his influential family. He treats girls his age like a plaything so when he started to get close to you a couple months ago when your divorce was finalized, you didn't bat an eye. Maybe he was just bored, maybe he wanted to rile you up, or maybe he wanted to see how many demographics his good looks can affect because while he's relentless and annoying, he's VERY easy on the eyes and smooth with his words. No wonder there was a long line of broken hearts that seemed to always trail behind him.

"Surprised to see you here today," he sat himself down on your pool chaise, right next to your hip, "I heard you went to the Komodo Island for healing. And to think you'd just stick with your husband if you wanted to be close to something dangerous and cold-blooded," he smirked. While his jab at your ex amused you, you tried your best to not show any reaction by taking another sip of your drink before shrugging, "I went there to see the construction of the villa I invested in. Why? Thought you could get me to give you free access?" "Well," he pursed his lips and turned his body towards you, allowing you to trail your (thankfully sunglass-covered) eyes on the smooth expanse of his chest and watch droplets of water race down his skin, "I'd love a free access, but not to your villa. If you get what I mean," he coyly stated.

You could feel your cheeks warm up but having had enough you stood up straight and got your face close to him (much to his delight). "Okay, little boy, you think you can play with the sad divorcee? Is that it? You think someone like you can do more damage to someone like me?" You jabbed a finger at his tanned chest that now that you were so close to him, you could see how delicious it looked, "You're nothing, boy. You're just a tease with a big mouth," you hissed.

Much to your surprise, he was looking at you with such intrigue and when you looked into his eyes, you noticed the slight teasing glint in them that made you swallow a lump in your throat.

"You think I'm all talk?" He chuckled condescendingly as his hand suddenly found your shin. The touch was electrifying and it sent a sharp tingle up your spine which you found delightful as much as you had to admit. Your heart started beating harshly against your ribcage when said hand trailed upwards slowly, brushing against your inner thigh before it jumped to the hand on his chest, gently wrapping his larger palm around your hand. How can veins be hot? What are you, a mosquito?

"You think I just have a big mouth?" he teased again with voice at a lower register that drew you into a hazed state until he brought your palm to his lips, kissing the skin around your pulse point to the pads of your fingers, "Don't you know that it's good to have a big mouth?" Your eyes widened and your mouth involuntarily let out a gasp when he shoved your index and middle finger into his mouth. His mouth was warm and you could feel his tongue circling your digits which sent your core clenching and leaking arousal, suddenly imagining the muscle somewhere... Lower.

"You've been treated so bad, so I want to treat you right. But you seem to think that all I want to do is use you once and that hurt me..." He leaned close abruptly, sending you reeling to an almost lying position had it not for one of your elbows supporting your weight, "Mommy."

The name triggered something in you and as if on instinct, the hand that was in his grasp slipped away and grabbed at his throat, pressing on his jugular as you pushed him slightly away. "Did you just fucking call me 'mommy'?" you growled, glaring at him.

Wooyoung had always considered you hot and sexy but seeing you like this at a proximity this close, made his cock twitch and hands itching to pull the flimsy ties by your hips. "Yeah, whatcha gonna do about it?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Everything was a blur, you didn't know what exactly happened but you somehow managed to pull Wooyoung into a private cabana without getting seen (or at least you hoped no one saw) after what he had just done and in a blink of an eye, you found yourself i your current position.

"Aww, I thought you said you weren't just all talk," you pouted at Wooyoung mockingly.

Scowling, Wooyoung moved his hand faster on his cock, trying to get himself off in front of you while you stood on your knees on the daybed in front of him, an unamused look on your face. "I am," he hissed from annoyance and stimulation mixed with frustration because though he was getting some relief, it was not from you and you were just standing there as if mocking him with your presence. Seeing him in such a state, clear annoyance with an obvious blush that betrayed his demeanour somehow made you feel powerful, confident, beyond sexy. Even with your husband, whenever either of you initiated sex, the feeling was never this... thrilling. "So? You just can't cum? You're all talk and so pathetic, Wooyoung. How are you supposed to fuck me like you said you would, like you said I deserved when you can't even do it to yourself?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes which made Wooyoung let out a sharp exhale.

You had to admit, you liked the sight of Wooyoung stark naked with his knees slightly bent and legs spread wide. Seeing from the way your eyes fell from his own gaze to his twitching cock, and the way you bite your bottom lip, Wooyoung was aware that you liked what you saw and it made his back arch as if to make a big showcase of his pleasure. Your pussy was practically drenched seeing the hot twenty-four-year-old trying so hard to please himself to please you what with beads of sweat and remnants of pool water that slowly seeped into the cushions underneath him. He was glowing. You couldn't believe that a guy like him wanted you to the point of throwing himself at you like an idiot.

"Mommy, come on," he moaned, dropping his chest back, "I'm touching myself to you so the least you can do is pop those pretty titties out to help me cum because now that I have you in front of me, I need it, I need it bad," he whined, trying to inch his body closer to yours only for you to drop your hands on his knees, securing his position. Wooyoung halted his movements when he saw your tits dangling in front of him, the flimsy fabric couldn't hide your hardened nipples and the sight of them bouncing and jiggling at the slightest movements made his eyes widen and mouth drool.

Despite his Neanderthal-like vocabulary and crass expression, you felt flattered and as weird as it is, you found a unique charm in that. "You think you deserve to see my tits, boy?" you smirked, crawling closer to him until you sat yourself on the tops of his knees with legs caging his comfortably. Wooyoung's eyes automatically dropped lower to the space between your legs, taking note of the dark patch that had formed and smirked, happy that you were turned on seeing him put on a show for you. Slowly, he started stroking himself again, this time putting more pressure in his grip, "Of course, I do, mommy. If you let me suck one of them, I'll even pound your pussy to next Thursday," he smugly said.

Scoffing, you pulled one side of your bikini top, revealing your left tit to him and his jaw comically dropped. You could see from his eyes the way his pupils followed the movement hungrily as if being hypnotized and you couldn't help but laugh at him mockingly, "Oh my God, are you that affected by the sight of breasts? What are you, a virgin?" You taunted. Wooyoung's eyebrows furrowed and his lips pouted as his eyes darted to glare straight at yours, "How can I be a virgin? You've seen girls I slept with," he huffed with cheeks tinted slightly red. "Well you sure are acting like you've never seen a woman's naked body before which is so sad," you faked a pout before moving to reveal your other tit to him. You saw his chest shake as a rumble passed his throat and his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed his saliva. "Fuck, you're so hot," he whined, trying to reach for your body only to have you slap his hands away with a hiss, "Did I tell you that you could touch me without permission?"

Dissatisfied, Wooyoung whined loudly and was about to protest when he felt something tweaking his cock. "What?" you smirked, letting your finger tweak his tip again which caused him to choke on his breath a little. "Pathetic," you spat after clicking your tongue, expressing disappointment as you grabbed him from the base and squeezed.

He didn't know why, he didn't know how, but the combination of your treatment on him got him cumming on your hand. Your eyes twinkled with intrigue as you watched spurts of white liquid spray from his tip, hitting your exposed tits as his back arched with a slight tremble and his head thrown back. For once, you appreciated the sound he made; a whimpered moan that sounded slightly muffled as if he was holding himself back by keeping his lips tightly sealed. "Now, now, don't hold back on me," you teased, pinching the tip harshly. His thighs tensed from the sudden stimulation as his jaw slackened letting the voice he had held back finally out. You were not sure what but maybe it was the reality that you were being physically intimate with a man a lot younger than you or the possibility of getting caught by passerby separated by the tent because Wooyoung was being loud or a mixture of both, but you felt a pleasant chill ran down your spine straight to your aching cunt.

In his haze, Wooyoung barely noticed you crawling up and situated yourself on his lap, your heated but unfortunately still covered core pressed on his flaccid cock. Wooyoung's eyes rolled into his head when he felt you starting to roll your hips on him. The anticipation had eaten away through him and the barest minimum of contact made him almost nut right at that moment. But with sheer will, he pushed through and decided to enjoy himself first.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this," Wooyoung grunted as he felt his dick coming back to life almost instantaneously, "Fuck, I want to make my mommy feel good," he moaned shakily when he felt the wet patch on your bikini bottom rub against him, giving him friction from the friction and warmth. You couldn't deny the fact that hearing someone as young as Wooyoung lusting after you made you so aroused that you were practically clenching at nothing which was stupid because his cock was there and it wouldn't take much for him to get fully hard again. Even if he wasn't fully hard, you were sure that you could get him inside you without any issue. Why were you torturing yourself instead of torturing the guy under you?

At that point, you had had enough of messing around, you wanted him in you and you wanted him right then and there. Wooyoung's eyes followed your every movement like a predator watching its prey which was ironic since you hold the reigns. When you pulled on one of the strings of your bikini bottom, Wooyoung couldn't help but think of it like a present being opened because the moment your bare pussy came to view, he accidentally let a word slip past him. "Want," he whimpered with eyes still glued on your pussy like an idiot. You had to bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from saying something snarky because frankly, you were enjoying the attention. "Yeah? You want mommy's pussy, baby?" you teased, returning to rubbing yourself on Wooyoung.

With each movement, the fabric of your bikini bottom ruffled which allowed your bare cunt to make direct contact with Wooyoung's bare cock. The feeling and built-up expectation seemed to be too much for Wooyoung as his back arched and eyes rolled back into his head. You had to admit that you had never seen a prettier sight than the one that was oh so freely given to you by Wooyoung. Taking advantage of Wooyoung's state, you grabbed his hardening dick and positioned it at your entrance and began descending until your hip met his.

"Oh- fuck!" Wooyoung grunted, his body jolting which was followed by his abdominal muscles tensing as if he had just been punched in the gut, winded simply by your pussy. Seeing this, you could only smirk not just because you didn't want to ruin the moment but also because you thought that nothing could beat the cocky look on your face.

Wooyoung's pleasure doubled the moment you started moving against him. Your more experienced hips moved in a way that allowed his cock to slip in and out without slipping out but also kept your lower halves connected. "Shit- fuck, mommy!" he gasped loudly which prompted you to slap him and grab ahold of his cheeks in one hand. "Keep your voice down, Wooyoung, no one can find out what we're doing here," you hissed, leaning down close to warn him. You hadn't meant to be so harsh but that action seemed to rile Wooyoung up even more because once you let go of his face, a depraved smile appeared on his face and he let out a content sigh, "Fuck mommy, if only you'd let me let people know how good you're using me right now," you felt the soles of his feet planted flat on the surface of the daybed and he began meeting your thrusts which almost caused you to fall on top of him, "God, Jesus, you feel so good mommy, your cunt is so perfect, I want to never stop fucking it, holy shit," goosebumps shot up your spine when Wooyoung grazed his hands on the sides of your legs and they kept moving upwards until they settled on his chest. Your eyes widened and you instinctively licked your bottom lip when Wooyoung began tweaking his nipples.

Somehow the pace you both set never faltered but you felt Wooyoung thrusting into you harder than you had initially done but it wasn't like you were about to complain.

It didn't take long before you felt Wooyoung's movements become frantic and you realized that he was about to cum again. Before Wooyoung could do anything else, you reached forward and grabbed his face again, prompting him to look at you, "You don't get to cum yet, pretty boy, I'm cumming first and then you'll wait until I told you that you could cum." Wooyoung pouted and whined, "Mommy why? I need to cum, please." You had to think that he was purposefully being loud to get you to slap him again because when you did, you swore you could see him smirking. "Weren't you a good boy? You can make me cum just with your cock, can't you? Or are you that pathetic that the woman had to do everything, huh?" your taunts successfully egged Wooyoung as he determinedly thrust into you. His face was scrunched and his movements were sloppy, beads of sweat started trickling down his face and the lack of changing expression on your face seemed to frustrate him.

You casually slipped your thumb into his mouth and pressed down on his tongue, "Don't you give me that look," you scoffed, "You talk big but you can't deliver, huh? Pathetic." Wooyoung tried whining again but this time you pressed your thumb more onto his tongue, not caring about the drool that accumulated and trickled down the sides of Wooyoung's mouth.

Maybe deep down you had a thing for pliable brats because, for some reason, the sight of your harsh treatment on Wooyoung got you fucking yourself quicker and quicker until your cunt clenched down on Wooyoung as you came.

The sudden tightness sent Wooyoung reeling and he came inside you immediately. The release felt amazing and your grip on him allowed his cum to be fully stuffed inside you.

"Fuck," you panted, coming down from your high first, "Didn't I tell you to wait for my permission?" you scoffed once you finally managed to find your voice again. Chest heaving, you weren't really mad that Wooyoung disobeyed you because you had just experienced the best sex you've ever had, bar none.

"M' sorry mommy, so so sorry," Wooyoung babbled with a stupid grin on his face, eyes blinking back as his euphoria died down. "Yeah, sure you're sorry," you shook your head, not believing his words even slightly because he looked like pure bliss. You were no better though because had there been a mirror, you would've seen that you were also smiling genuinely. You could simply say that it was because you just had sex, but you had to admit that it was also because you had done it with Wooyoung.

Thinking that you were done, you slowly detached yourself from Wooyoung. But before you could even get off properly, Wooyoung had leapt forward and pinned your body down.

"Wooyoung!" you hissed, surprised and you immediately tried to sit up only for Wooyoung to push your body back down.

"I'm sorry for not waiting for your permission, I feel bad, really. So let me clean you up real quick, yeah?" there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that was accompanied by a knowing smirk before he lowered his face down to your cunt.

You were about to have another best sex ever, bar none.

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for hanging out with someone less in-person, and more online?

Here me out first please.

My buddy Austin (he/him) and I usually hang out at least every other week, if not every week. We've been doing this for the last few years after we both got more conformable doing in-person hangouts after the covid vaccines reached the general public in our country.

About a year ago, Austin was in a car accident (not a major one, don't worry) and walked away with a mild concussion (doctor's description). Ever since that car accident, Austin has been super sensitive to sound. In his words, walking across his floor in socks sounds like elephant stomping. His floor is carpet. Typing on a phone is so loud and distracting he can't hear anything else. Birds outside his house sound like they're chirping directly into his ear. He vents to me often that having a regular-volumed conversation sounds so loud it's painful to him.

When I'm over at his house, I try to be as quiet as I can. I'm careful to soft-step around the house and not take my shoes off. I try to shuffle or slide through the kitchen and other rooms that are not carpet so I make less noise. We whisper or half-whisper half-speak to each other in conversation. Movies we have subtitles on and the volume turned down to almost 0%. But Austin still looks like he's in pain by the end of a couple hour hang-out. Sometimes he'll get up and put in earplugs and then come back to continue the hangout. I feel really bad that he's putting himself through so much.

The last few months, instead of always hanging out in-person, I've been suggesting doing something virtual and letting Austin decide which he wants. I figure that if we're gaming, he can wear his earplugs or mute the game and we can use game chat or text each other to communicate. Same with watching movies, we can both adjust our volumes to our comfort levels (and leave subtitles on still. I don't mind them). Sometimes he wants to just do things online, and sometimes he insists on hanging out in-person. It's been about 60/40 online to in-person so far.

We hung out last weekend and first Austin said let's hang out in-person, but the night before we were supposed to hang out, he told me he rather hang out online this time. I was cool with it, but when I let my roommate Geoff (who is also good friends with Austin) know that actually I'd be home most of the day Saturday and answered Geoff's "why are you hanging out with Austin online again?" with "i don't know, Austin probably wants a quiet weekend instead", my roommate started accusing me of infantilizing Austin by hanging out online instead of in-person, that I'm abandoning Austin because his "auditory disablility is too inconvenient for fragile able-bodied feelings" (Geoff's words), and how since Austin hasn't explicitly said that in-person hanging out is too loud for him, then I'm being ableist by assuming things are too loud when he hasn't directly said that I am too loud. I argued that I don't think of Austin as lesser, I just don't want to cause him any unnecessary pain, and it's pretty obvious when things are too loud for him without words, because you can read the "Make it stop" / "No more" expression on his face. But Geoff doubled down really hard and told me i should be ashamed of treating Austin like he's incapable of making his own choices.

I was pissed and just walked out with my laptop. We did our movie day with me on the local library wifi instead. I don't think for a second I've taken away Austin's ability to choose, since I let Austin make the call on in-person or online!! But I'm also completely able-bodied. I haven't even experienced a temporary disability-experience like needing crutches during injury recovery or anything. Geoff has a chronic pain and fatigue disorder, so he has more experience with microaggressions than I do. So I don't know if I'm right about this being a non-issue, or if Geoff is right about me being ableist against Austin's noise sensitivities. It keeps eating at me now, and I don't want to bring this up with Austin since I already know he's really insecure about his new volume tolerance levels. Am I an asshole for doing online hangouts with Austin instead of sticking to only in-person stuff?

[small-sinclair]

Yours

A dabble based off @visceravalentines’s idea. Never wrote something like this, so it might be a borderline smut as the end? Might not be?? I don't know. I just wanted to try it out. Please let me know if I should write something like this again? Or not.

Bo x fem!reader

Tw: reader was his friend, slight mentions of sex, a bit of a slow burn, blood, fighting, mention of killings, marking

Welcomed readers: @lovely-cryptid and @fluffy-little-demon

When you first asked, you were in his chair in the basement, and he laughed at you. You were down stairs for a couple weeks now, your eyes looking over the photos of the woman before you, and you frown. You wondered how many girls he let kiss his skin with love and tender, but you thought you would be the first. Besides, you and him were friends before you had to leave Ambrose years ago. Being back and learning about his new life... your feeling for him never falter or changed.

Seeing his blue eyes and hearing his voice... he wasn't that wild teenager anymore that you once knew. He was more experience with life, knowing more about hate than love, more about death than life, more about blood and the workings of flesh than breathing. You hoped he was looking forward to seeing you again or just seeing a friend, but you were here in a chair, taped and tied to the handles. Though you should be scared and freaked out, you were oddly calm. Something in your head said that he still loved you, than he trusts you, but even wolves have to stock their loved one before they go for the kill, for their love, for their pound of flesh and blood.

Even when you were in high school, you two would jokingly leave marks on each other just to piss off your parents along with Trudy. Trudy never liked you, but you could give two shits less about her. When you came back, he wasn't too happy to see you. You didn't blamed him; you left town with your family without telling him. He still holds that forever and a day now, and you were okay with how upset he got. You didn't blame him, though, but you didn't think he would tie you to a chair. Now, when you asked if him if you could leave a little hickie on his neck, he laughed and shook his head before getting angry.

“Ya think I’m yours? HA!” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You should know better than that. Look where you're at, girl! You think I'll ever let you?" Bo stood over your tired body and tightened the restrains. "Nah... you don't deserve to mark me, to fuck me."

Bo stepped back from the chair and started to leave for upstairs. You swallowed hard, saying, "I love you, Beauregard."

He looks behind him, smirked, and shook his head. "No, ya don't love me, girl." He spat, "If ya really loved me, ya would've tol' me ya were leavin!" He slams and locks the door.

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

The warm summer sun kissed your skin as you sat outside the of the shop. Bo's finally let you out for fresh air, and you were thankful.

It's been about two months since you were down stairs, and you gotten used to seeing his moods. There was Angry Bo, where he would yell at you, but he never laid a hand on you. He was close to once, making you flinch in the chair, but his hand lowered and he left the room. Then there was Normal Bo, where he could come down to feed you and give you water. He talked but never for long to become too attached, telling you the weather, the day, and a recap of the evening news from the night before. Sex God Bo, one of your favorite moods, where he would treat you like you were the coldest glass of water in the middle of a sand wasteland, and he did everything and anything to make you feel good along with himself. Drunk Bo, where he was emotional and talked about everything like how he was scared of killing people but he's used to it now, wishing that he wouldn't have nightmares of the brutal kills. Happy Bo, where he would come down to the basement in smiles and brightness. He would free your wrist and kiss the scars, that started to match his, and he would let you talk, hanging on every word as you told him about your adventures outside of Ambrose. Finally, Emotional Sober Bo, where he was more open about his emotions or just needed someone to tell him that he was a good person. That's when you realized his mind and mental health needed help.

He gave you a sundress that he picked off a victim last week, and it fit you perfectly. The cherries over the cream colored fabric felt soft against your skin, and you smiled. You sat outside in an old rocking chair while he was working on a car with the garage door open. He was standing in the sun as he worked over the hood. Music played from inside, playing hard rock and metal. He gave you some newspapers from the town over to read. Even though they are a couple days old, you read over each section.

"Oh, looks like there's a farmer's market this weekend," you said aloud.

Bo glanced over his shoulder at you then back to the engine. "Yeah? Might ask Les to bring back strawberries an' oranges."

"I think it's too early for oranges," you hummed, folding over the page to read the notices. "Maybe raspberries, but not oranges."

Since he let you out, the conversations between you two were comfortable.

"Raspberries?" Bo hummed. "Shit, I haven't had 'em in a while." His hands mover over some parts then grasped a tool, starting on removing the fan belt.

You read farther down and made a surprised hum. "Looks like Les made the paper."

Bo looked over to you and wiped his hands with he dirty red rag. He moves from the car to stand next to you. "Yeah? Where?"

You pointed at the picture. "Fishing tournament from last weekend."

He placed a hand on the back of the chair and leaned down to get a better look. The smell of oil and sweat mixed the air and circled you like a hawk over a mouse. "Would ya look at 'at," he hummed, his eyes brighter from the sweat. He leaned his head to the side as he read over the caption. "Seems like he won."

"Remember when he thought he caught the Loch Ness Monster in the creek?" You giggled, the memory of a younger Lester playing. "And Vincent pushed him in the water?"

He caught himself laughing at the memory. "That was a great summer," he hummed, his smile bright. Then it faded as he looked back at you as if he remembered your reason of being here. He leaned up from the chair then back at the paper.

He was so close to you, so close to his lips to steal a kiss, to steal his heart forever. He will never look at you the same as golden rays touch your hair, your eyes shining in the Ambrose sunlight. If he felt your lips now, how could he claim himself? How could his anger towards you stop burning? No... he can't. Not now when the car hood is up and the radio is playing a slow song. No. He can't let you take him like this town has. His soul was all he had left. How could he trust you not to leave again? His hand traced through your hair, his blue eyes lingering over the golden glitter.

Bo turned on his heel and went back to the car.

"I love you, Beauregard," you sung, a sweet grin over your lips.

He glanced back at your from over his shoulder then back at the car. "Shut up, y/n. Ya don't." He lit a cigarette and started working again.

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

The Louisiana in the winter finally came, reaching a solid 30 degree at night. You're no longer in the garage, and you're now in the Sinclair. You were curled up against the warm blankets in Bo's bed, shaking under the covers. The two memories flashed in your mind while you tried to sleep, but you grew use to having Bo sleeping next to you in during windy nights like this.

When you heard Bo's steps coming up the steps, and the bedroom door opened. You heard him starting to undress himself, changing out of his work clothing. He shot two people tonight before the ice rain came, so it made it ever so harder to move his shoulders. The bitter cold always hurt his shoulders.

You slowly lifted your head as he slid into sleeping pants, keeping his shirt off for the night. There for fresh bruises from the fights today, making him wince as he moved. You rubbed your eyes as you looked at the fresh marks over him, the cuts and scrapes turning your stomach. He rubbed his eye and groaned as he moved from the dresser to the bed, limping slightly.

"Bo?"

"'M'okay," he lied. "Go t'sleep." He moved slowly as he walked to his side of the bed. "'M fine."

You turned on your side as he sat on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily. The marks over his skin darken and swirled over him. You turned over to turn on the bedside light and looked back at him. Your stomach flipped at the sight of his skin. "Oh... Bo," you sighed sadly. You moved from your side of the bed and crawled behind him. "You're hurt."

"I said sleep, y/n," he snapped tiredly. "Don't worry."

"Let me take a look at you."

"No--"

You sat next to him and got up, ignoring his protest, and stood in front of him. Your face fell as you looked at his blacken eye, a hand print burned into his skin, and his shoulders harden from welts from being hit. His the old scars on his wrist were open and bleeding.

"Oh, Bo," you felt your heartbreaking as you took his hands.

He snapped them away. "Don't touch me!"

"You're hurt!" You reached up and took his hands again, hard and forceful. "We gotta wrap them."

"I just want to sleep!" He almost sounded like he was begging. Was he begging you right now?

"And I want to make sure you're okay and not bleeding all over the sheets!"

Bo took a deep breath then let it out. "Yer not my mother."

"Yeah, well, you make feel like one," you took looked over his hands. "Jeez, Bo! What happened?"

"Nothin'--"

"Don't lie to me," your eyes looked up at him, locking in a dangerous stare. "This doesn't look like nothing! Bo, what happened?" He bit his lower lip and looked away, breathing hitching and falling like rocks over the side of a mountain. You took a better look at the wrist and you felt sick. Those aren't old marks. Those are fresh, new. They're new. "Oh goodness, Bo!" You looked up at him in shock. "They put you in the chair."

"Shut up," he spat, his hands starting to shake. "Shut up, y/n."

You thought about his old high chair in the House of Wax and the memories while growing up. You knew something was going on at his home with between him and his parents. You knew that they would tie him down and scar him. The photos, the medical journals you found in Victor's office with details on how to treat Bo's anger, his scars. You knew.

"Let me help you."

"I don't need ya!"

You gripped his hands. "Yes, you do. You need help! Please, Bo," your sad eyes met his misty blues, "let me help you."

He clinched his jaw as his mind thought over killing you, but it would leave him lonely and by himself. Yeah, he had his brothers, but the memories that you two had and the thought of you... no, he's not attached. He's not. But your warm hands over his cold hands somehow made him feel safe in his own room for the first time. Finding you there ever night in his room, sleeping or awake reading a book in his bed, he's grown too used and longing for you. He hated it, but the very idea of angry or thoughts of harming you made him sick. What did you do to him?

He nodded over his shoulder to the bathroom. "First-aid's under the sink."

You smiled and stood up to get the supplies you needed.

As you worked, you two stayed silent as you worked over his wrists. He would flinch now and then while you cleaned and wrapped his wrists. You were careful not to hurt him even more, and, once you were finished, you laid his wrists down on his lap to put the band-aid box away. His fingers traced over your work carefully, thoughts running through his head as if he was thinking of ways to say 'thank you', to say anything. You came back and sat next to him.

"It's cold out there, lover boy," you said as you folded your hands over your lap. "You gotta be more careful."

He takes in a deep breath then let it out slowly. "Worry I won't come back?"

"More worry that you'll, well," you sighed and undid your hair to put it back up again. "I'm scared that you'll be hurt worse than this. I hate it when your bruised up by those people."

He couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Bet you still wanna mark me."

"Don't threaten me with a good time." Your eyes went big as soon as those words left your lips. You blushed as you looked away from him, but his hand brought your head back to meet his eyes.

"Is that so?" He hummed, watching you nodded slowly. "Well, goodness me," he chuckled, shaking his head. "We were kids doin' 'at." You felt him tower over you, his weight pushing you to be under him. He brought his hands to be on each side of your body, his face hovering over you. He smiles then said, "How could I thank ya fer helpin' me?"

You looked at his eyes then at his chest, trailing down to his stomach. He knew what you wanted, but he just needed to hear it.

"Could... could I mark you?" You swallowed the lump on his throat. "Leave a hickie like old times?"

A devilish smirk formed. "We did 'at to piss off our parents," he leaned down, his lips dangerously close. "Who do ya plan on pissin' off?"

You closed your eyes as the butterflies flew like a storm under your skin. Your hands wrapped around his neck to test the waters, your eyes never leaving his. Something about his gaze didn't feel dangerous or warning like normally. Instead, they were burning with an obsessives of thoughts of you over him, you taking him, you being near his bleeding, burning, aching heart.

"Never belonged to anyone, girl," he drawled, his voice echoing throughout his body, sending shivers over your skin. "Never once did I belong. Always someone else's."

"Feeling lost?" You asked, your hand ghosting over the little scar on his chin. He got it when he fought a bully who picked on his brothers. "Told all your life this body ain't yours," you voice was a whisper as your thumb brushed away tiredness from the bags under his eyes. "How long have you lost?"

There was a flicker of light in his eyes as he looked away, his thoughts racing until he found his voice. "Since you left." He rested his head against the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses over your skin and collar bone. "Make me yours again?" He murmurs against your shirt. "Just for tonight? Make me feel like I belong?"

You ran careful fingers over the bruises from the fights, feeling the hidden scars that the town left on his body. He was a road map of misery and trauma. The pain that he holds must be weighing on his shoulders like how Atlas holds the world. How tired is he?

Kiss him good night to soothe his aching bones and take him out of his misery.

You were careful to turn his head to see another faded scar on his neck. Doesn't he get tired of fighting? Of moving and breathing? Ambrose has a tight hold around his throat, so it has to be hard to breathe above the blood and decaying bones under wax and strings. Still, he was yours, and you would treasure him no matter his state. Underneath all that trauma and scars, bones and all, he was a scared boy looking for someone to hold his hand, to find his place among the living and dead.

Licking your lips, you kiss his neck gently to tease the waters. When he relaxed to your touch, you let your lips kiss over his skin, kissing the bruises and faded scars that Ambrose left on him, a roadmap of his mother's wishes and lashes. You lifted him up as you left a trail of marks and hearts, filling each with love and tenderness from his jaw down to his stomach, kissing over the faded bullet wound from a time before you, taking care to make sure he knew how much you loved him, how much you craved him. You laid him on his back and listened to him puff out gasps as your lips trailed farther down to his hips. There were burn marks from spilled waxed jars, burns and scars you thought he never had. You left traces of yourself over him, his cheeks redden over the touches.

Somehow, you left him breathless, and the near thought of it drove him over the edge. He imagined what his life would be like if he put a ring on your finger and he gets to call you by his name, forever coming home to someone that saw him beyond a monster, beyond a killer. This wasn't his body; it's yours.

All yours.

You crawled up and hung over his lips. "I love you, Beauregard."

His hands reached up, touching your face and hair. The anger he once felt for you washed away as soon as you breathed his name. His real name. He finally understood the lines and sunrises you were excited for. Once, you stood in the field of wildflowers, and you were smiling at him. He didn't understand then, but he does now. He knows.

"I love you more, y/n," he promised. He found his place, his mark, his hold in your gaze as he leaned up to steal a kiss, pulling you down in a tight embrace, but he was so careful not to harm you. "I love you," he breathed near your ear then placed a kiss. "I love you. I love you. I love you, y/n. I love you." He could get drunk off you, feeling every chain he had of you go, breaking from years of rust. "I love you."

"I love you, Beauregard," you said again, smiling against his lips., kissing the scar over his lip.

He was yours. All yours.

[artandhijinks]

My experience with the worst most toxic parts of the IWTV fandom

Okay, there are going to be details here that are changed or admitted for obvious mostly safety reasons. And I personally don't care if you think I'm lying, but it was still a scary experience and I do think there are people in the fandom that need to be aware this crap goes on all over fictional characters. So warning they're going to be mentions of threats a violence, doxing, harassment, the works, It was bad.

Okay a few months ago. I kicked the hornets nest when it comes to the worst part of the interview with the vampire fandom. I had engaged in some fan discourse. Made a couple of posts. A lot of it had to do with defending the added diversity with the casting of Assad and Jacob. Theorizing about possible characters in the future that can be race swapped how it could be a good thing and how it could be historically possible. You get the idea. I love what the show is done with all the race swapping it has added so much to the story.

And then all the sudden I woke up to my inbox being full of over 100 anonymous ask that ranged from the average calling me evil racist. I didn't know the books. How dare I it was ruining the story. I should kill myself. The usual online internet harassment. It was horrible. And they kept on coming and would not stop until I shut off anonymous ask. And they will remain off because of this but again I had well over 100 messages to go through. And it took me well over a week to go through them but when I got to like the last I think 10 one of them stuck out. Not because it was particularly bad because apparently I pissed off the Armand people who don't realize how creepy it is and kind of comes off as pro pedophilia when all of you insist that he has to be 17 much less the racist issues. There's a reason it took me over a week to go through all the messages they made my skin crawl. But this particular message scared the crap out of me it was a death threat with my home address. Someone cared so much about a fictional character. They tracked down my address and threaten to kill me. So guess who immediately started screenshotting the rest of the messages. And had to make a police report. Do you know what it's like having to explain to cops? Yes, I got a death threat with my address over a fictional gay vampire. No, getting death threats over Tumblr is not new to me unfortunately, but my address was new and that I want documented. So being harassed by a couple racist book purists turned into a police report and me buying security cameras. Thank you Tumblr. I nearly deleted the app.

I don't even know if I want to finish the Vampire Chronicles books now because of you idiots you took it way too far. And the worst part is I'm white. I can only imagine what you idiots are doing to the fans of color. Again someone tracked down my address to threaten to kill me. But again it's documented. I filed a police report and if any of you idiots try something I got cameras now.

And for all those who are going to be demanding proof well I thought about sharing a redacted screenshot or maybe a redacted version of the police report. But I decided I would ask the cops what they thought just to be safe. I'm glad I did because they advised me not to do that and they explained to me there is technology out there that if someone really wanted to they can remove that redacting. And I already have one crazy person that knows my address and is threatening to kill me so I don't want another one. So everyone is just going to have to take my word for it. However the cops were all for me sharing my story because of the rise of things like swatting. A in a nearby police department had to deal with a middle schooler (so a 11 to 13-year-old) who made a bomb threat at their school because they didn't want to take a test. So, they think this would be good for people to hear because what you do on the internet does have real life consequences.

So remember people the internet is real life. These things have real life consequences. And I'm pretty sure these people thought it was a joke. But now I have to worry about things like someone breaking into my house killing me or swatting. Which is something I didn't even think of until the cops brought it up. And it does affect my real life. I'm looking to move and hopefully we'll be out of my house soon. So, thank you, Internet stranger

So to sum it all up. The fandom needs to take a bunch of chill pills and calm down. Because we are literally harassing, bullying and threatening people out of the fandom. Again, I thought about leaving Tumblr due to this experience and now I'm having to move. Thank you. Interview with the vampire fandom please do better.

[sephirothsplaything]

WINNER TAKES ALL- chapter 1

a/n : Hiii! I've seen the excitement over this concept and it made me so giddy. If the reader seems like an annoying bitch in this chapter it's because she is :/. Don't worry she'll get worse.

anyways.<3 let me take my ass to bed chile.

CW: Classism? idk reader is a cunt, black! fem reader, black obsessive reader.

You always strived for perfection. 

From the moment you were born, everyone around your parents agreed; You were bound to do great things.

But that was a long time ago, a little earlier before the war.Your parents were long dead,leaving you to hold up the burning expectations that were placed upon you.

You walked down the long halls of the academy,Mary Jane heeled shoes clacking with each step. Every so often, a person would pass you by,offering you a greeting or a goodluck.

It was reaping day, tributes were to be announced and the prize winner would be assigned. You wore a brand new dress, baby blue in color with a pleated bottom. As you rounded the corner,you were faced with the doors of the giant lab belonging to Dr.Gaul, or grandmother,as you called her.

With the death of your parents, you were the youngest remaining Gaul in the family. Dr.Gaul was no nurturer. She showed you the depravity of humans, how they fight and bleed just to die at the end. You found it fascinating. Both you and your grandmother often bonded over the plights of human nature.

Pushing the lab doors open, you are greeted with the sight of Dr.Gaul prodding at one of her “babies”, as she liked to call them. You weren’t particularly fond of her freaky experiments, but the tub full of colorful snakes drew your eye.

“Your dress is awfully short,Y/N.” Dr. Gaul commented. You rolled your eyes. No matter how intimidating she may come off to others, she still found time to be your naggy grandmother.

“It’s hot today.” You responded. Leaning forward, you glanced at all the snakes wriggling around in the tub,entangled with one another. 

“You can put your hand in,if you’d like.” Dr. Gaul suggested. Your eyebrows wrinkled. She loved to push the boundaries of your safety and it annoyed you immensely.

“I assume there was a point in asking me to come here?” You said. She had requested you visit her before the reaping and had yet to tell you the reason why.

Dr.Gaul’s eyes glinted with amusement. Clearly,there was something she just couldn’t wait to tell you. 

“Haven't I taught you that there’s a point in everything I do?” Dr.Gaul questioned. She reached into the snake pit,pulling out one with dark blue scales.

 She allows the snake to crawl into your hands,the cool sensation of the scales was a funny feeling. 

“Do you recall a paper you wrote a couple of months ago regarding the Hunger Games?” Dr.Gaul asked. The snake had made itself comfortable around your neck,nestled into your long braids.

Of course you had remembered. “Law Of the Jungle”,you called it. You had detailed how the winning tribute always had very specific traits, the traits of a winner. Strong,smart, agile and most of all desperate. 

You were a winner. Or at least,you were going to be. There was a certain someone nipping at your heels.

“You gave me a failing grade for that.” You whined. Dr.Gaul laughed at your childish tone.

“Y/N, your concept of what it takes to be a winner is deeply flawed.” She took the snake back from you,placing it into the tub.

You glanced at the clock  on the wall. You were ansty to meet up with Sejanus beforehand but now you had no time.

“Your classmate..Mr.Snow.”Dr Gaul said, a cruel smile forming onto her face.

  “He’s a real winner.”

You scoffed at this. Coriolanus didn’t have a pot to piss in,you had observed how he often rewore outfits for reaping day. You had managed to hold your top spot in class,but these days you were wavering in favor of him. He was so quick to give the correct answer or show his highly marked test grades.

You hated him more than anything,people from the districts were better than him in your mind.

The Plinth Prize. It’s what would hold you up far above all the rest. Far above him.

“I’ll be leaving now grandmother, I'm gonna be late.” You spun on your heel,walking out of the door.

“I do hate it when you call me that.” Dr Gaul called after you. You smiled.

As you walked into the main hall,you were met with the buzz and excitement of your classmates. You were all the top 24 chosen for the mentor program. Naturally, you were number one and vexingly, Coriolanus was number two.

A server held up a tray with some champagne. You weren’t one for alcohol , but took a glass to blend in. Sipping your drink,your sharp brown eyes scanned all over the room for Sejanus.

You and Sejanus had been close friends since your younger years. He had been isolated by the rest of your classmates due to him being district. You took him under your wing, sticking by him and fending off any others who bullied him.

You were his angel,as he called you. And he was yours. Your project. You’d mold him into the perfect man, and perhaps secure the plinth fortune for yourself in the process.

“Y/N!” You heard a voice call for you. You glanced ahead of you. Arachne gestured you over.

He was there too.

Walking over, Festus, Arachne and Coriolanus were already in a circle, no doubt discussing the prize. You chose to stand next to Arachne,in direct view of Coriolanus.

Your eyes gave him a quick up and down. His shoes were definitely too small for him and you could've sworn you had seen that shirt before.

Coriolanus shot you a questioning glance,but tried to give you a polite smile.

Grimacing at him,you took another sip of your champagne.

“Ah, and here's Dr.Gaul's best experiment.” Festus said,gesturing towards you.  It might’ve been an insult,but it was technically true. You had gained every opportunity in your vicinity,worked in the best labs and rubbed shoulders with high powered politicians. 

Yeah,you were a little spoiled maybe.

“She thinks the prize will fall right into her lap.” Arachne scoffed. You gave a dramatic sigh.

“Well,I’ve certainly earned it,haven't I ?” You said. Coriolanus gave a chuff of amusement. Your head tilted slightly. Whatever on earth was he of all people laughing about.

“Sucking that district scum off doesn’t assure you anything.” Festus spit out. 

“Careful Festus.” You said gently tracing the rim of your glass. “I just came from Dr.Gaul’s lab, and she has a tube your size,if you can believe it.”

Festus fell silent immediately. 

“I don’t understand your fixation with him,honestly.” Arachne said. And you hadn’t expected them to. They were too blinded by stupidity to recognize that Sejanus was malleable and oh so naive.

He was perfect and more importantly,all yours. Mostly all yours anyway.

“Speaking of district scum.” Festus said, gesturing towards Sejanus,who was talking to his parents. 

All of you took a quick glance in his direction. Arachne groaned in disgust.

“Look at his mother’s outfit,Christ!” She said,

You pursed your lips. While you agreed that Mrs.Plinth’s outfit was nothing short of frumpy, there was no way in hell you’d be caught agreeing with this pack of imbeciles.

“His Ma,I think you meant.” Festus chuckled.

“Dress a turnip in a ball gown,and it’ll still beg to be mashed.” Coriolanus said. The giggles of your classmates rang through your ears. 

You looked back to Sejanus who met your gaze. He gave you a soft smile to which you returned.

‘Don’t do that,we all know you like him.” Arachne scolded. Now it was your turn to giggle.

It was well known that after you,Coriolanus and Sejanus were close. Something about that had always irritated you. Maybe the fact that Sejanus tended to talk about him all the time when he was with you.

“I don’t like him,I tolerate him.” Coriolanus said, a little too fast in your opinion.

“Oh?’ You said, a cat-like grin creeping its way onto your face. Coriolanus’s expression hardened at the sound of your voice. 

“If I recall,weren’t you just having dinner at his house the other night?” You asked with faux curiosity. 

Coriolanus shot you with an icy glare,to which you were all too happy to return. The feeling was mutual.  You hated him and he hated you. 

“Well, if I hear him blab on about how immoral the Hunger Games are,I'll put him into the area myse-.” Festus halted his words as Sejanus approached.

You brushed his arm in greeting before downing the rest of your champagne. 

“Y/N, you look pretty.” Sejanus said. Of course he thought you were. Blue was his favorite color,you’d concluded it would put him at ease,having someone that was on his side.

“I see you made it to the reaping for once.” Festus said snarkily. Coriolanus was watching Sejanus carefully,almost analytically. 

You wanted to pluck those blue eyes right from his skull. 

“And you’ve made it to graduation Festus, we’re both shocked.” Sejanus shot back.  You smiled proudly. He was sticking up for himself just as you trained him to do.

Coriolanus gave a small smile at the response. You felt your eye twitch.

“Spill it,who won the prize?” Arachne asked,clearly fed up at his presence.

You couldn’t fight the cold curiosity as you looked at Sejanus. Unfortunately for you, Sejanus had not divulged any information about the prize,no matter your soft spoken words or lingering touches.

You found comfort in your classmates being just as clueless as you were. A first time for everything,you supposed.

“I’m not about to ruin my father’s big day.” Sejanus said,sliding his hands into his pockets.

You pressed your thighs together slightly. He had really big hands.

“No one here actually likes him,but they do love his money.” Sejanus said, venom dripping in his tone.

“You know what that’s like, right Arachne?” You finally spoke.The waterfall of braids from your high ponytail shifted slightly as you gave her an amused glance.

Sejanus looked to you gratefully. You relished the feeling. Whatever would he do without you?

“Whatever.” Arachne scoffed. She walked away from the group to take her seat.

Festus left as well, leaving you and Sejanus with Coriolanus. 

You acted swiftly before Coriolanus could speak. Grabbing Sejanus’s hand, you led him to the front aisle of chairs.

“Come sit with us Coryo.” Sejanus said. You gave Coriolanus the harshest glare that you could muster.

‘Stay away from him’ You hoped the message was clear. Coriolanus stood motionless for a moment. He smirked at you purposefully, plopping down to the left side of Sejaus. 

‘That asshole’ You thought bitterly.

You watched Dr.Gaul take her place in front of the stand. She was eerily gleeful today. It unsettled you.

Sejanus’s hand grabbed yours,pulling your attention. He looked almost remorseful.

“Look, I know you’ve been working really hard this year.” He began, Coriolanus was facing the stage but you knew he was zeroed in on the conversation.

Snakeish fucker. 

“There won’t be a prize, angel.” Sejanus said. You instantly dropped your hand from his at the news.

No prize? This had to be some sort of joke. You had poured every ounce of energy ensuring a victory and now it was being pulled from under you.

All your efforts had been effectively wasted. You wanted to scream.

“What?” Coriolanus said. He too had his heart set on the prize,perhaps even more than you.

“I’m so sorry.” Sejanus said. It was unclear who the apology was geared towards.

You and Coriolanus share a look of confusion. All bets were off, for now at least.

“ I am here to examine you all, our leaders of the future.” Dr.Gaul said. She was holding back a giggle as if she had thought of a joke.

“Allow me to introduce the creator of the Hunger Games himself, Dean Casca Highbottom.”

You turned your head to see Highbottom down a tiny vial of something.

Morphling addict. You couldn’t understand why anyone would attach themselves to such a concoction. Pain and misery is what keeps humans sharp after all.

Hence, the Hunger Games.

Dean Highbottom made his way to the front of the room in a morphling induced wobble. He took his sweet time adjusting the glass on his right eye before addressing everyone.

You had no love for the man. He was a drunken fool with no eye for progression. He had studied under your grandmother and somehow managed to learn absolutely nothing.

“For this year's tenth annual Hunger Games,we are doing things differently.” Highbottom said. There were whispers from your classmates in a flurry of confusion.

Your focus was waning. There was no prize.

“You all will be assigned a tribute to mentor,the goal is for them to win the games.” Highbottom explained.

Mentor? This piqued your interest. Sejanus was still sullen. 

‘Pathetic.’

“Your job is to make a spectacle,get people watching the games.” He said.

Now this, this was exciting. No wonder your grandmother was so bubbly. This was far more compelling than any prize.

A winning tribute would mean lifelong gratification. A plethora of opportunities sure to come.

You were practically squirming in your seat. Someone’s life would be in your perfectly manicured hands.

“Now, your tribute is your own responsibility.” Highbottom reminded everyone. You tuned him out,opting to imagine what your ideal tribute would be.

A tall, stocky boy from district one would do quite nicely. You would hardly have to do any work at all. The prospect of death would motivate him properly. A pretty district four girl would be good too, a diamond in the rough.

Nobody wants to see an attractive face maimed, not even you. 

Casca Highbottom began reading down the list,assigning a tribute to each of your classmates.

You didn’t get district one. Or four.

Sejanus had been assigned district two, Marcus. You fought a chuckle at the cruel irony. You were sure it was done on purpose.

You grabbed Sejanus’s hand,giving it a firm squeeze. You and Coriolanus’s names had yet to be called.

“You got the pick of the litter.” Coriolanus said,trying to cheer Sejanus up. You wanted to scoff. He truly knew nothing. Another reason why he was unneeded as Sejanus’s friend. You would be sure to remind Sejanus of that later.

“You forget, I'm a part of that litter.” Sejanus said coldly. He wasn’t even looking at the screen to face the tribute.

It wasn’t hard to forget. He found a way to remind you every day. It was graining on your last nerve.

“I’m so sorry Sej.” You said with all the sympathy you could muster.

“Y/N Gaul, you get district seven, Treech.” Casca Highbottom said. You looked up to see a boy around your age. He wasn’t at all what you had imagined. He was filthy,clothes torn with a look of hard disdain on his face. The tattered wide brim hat he wore covered half of his face.

There was nothing remarkable about him. He was scrawny. Dull.

You were so utterly doomed.

The list continued on and on.

“The district twelve runt, she belongs to Snow.” Casca concluded. A girl made her way onto the screen. Her dress was rainbow in color and she had chocolate brown hair.

You smirked.You and Highbottom shared a singular thing in common. The deep desire to see Coriolanus fail.

The girl, who was introduced as Lucy Gray Baird, had taken a hit by the district governor.

She fell to the floor. Your classmates laughed at the antics. But you did not. Neither did Coriolanus.

Grabbing the mic, Lucy Gray bellowed out a song,her voice like honey. You looked to Coriolanus to gauge his reaction. He was smiling.

And why shouldn’t he be. You’d be an idiot not to acknowledge the fact that he had struck gold with her.

A songbird. The perfect spectacle and potential capital darling.

This was not looking good for you.

You thought back to your tribute. Treech. District 7 was lumber. He no doubt would have had experience with trees and wood. That was at least a start.

Coriolanus had his star, and now you needed to forge yours.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

HEYY girl 💗 could I req a bam x fem reader where they’re enemies to lovers becuase y/n is just as reckless as he is?? Thank you 🫶

The Stuntgirl Rule

Bam breaks the one rule the crew all agreed on when they first added a girl to the group, which wouldn’t be as big of a deal if they didn’t hate each other. All this animosity builds and builds until Y/N finally figures out how to knock Bam down a peg.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, Angst)

3.8k Words

Warnings: Extremely suggestive content, enemies to lovers, crude language, blood, snakes, misogyny, Madonna-Whore complex, injuries, hospitals, flirting, slut shaming, situationships

An: Thank you so much for the request!! I’ve come to find out I really do love writing for enemies to lovers pairings :) More than that, I got to do a lot of research for this fic with psychological complexes, especially (as the tags indicate) the Madonna-Whore complex!! If you can’t tell by now, I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to writing XD I also experimented with making Bam a bit of an unreliable narrator in this one to wort of show his thought process better. I’ve been told my writing takes the asshole out of him but I’m pretty sure this fic put it right back in, so be warned! If you want an idea of the dynamic I was going for, the dynamic betwen Bam and Y/N reminded me a lot of this clip from the 2016 revival of the musical, Falsettos! Ah, my theater kid past…But thank you for the request and please keep sending more!!

Kneeling on the grass, you sat eye to eye with the King Cobra you somehow got a permit to film with. The whole “Kiss of Death” stunt got shuffled around to a couple of the other guys before it landed on you but hell, you couldn’t complain- dangerous shit was kinda your thing, and otherwise the next person in line would’ve been Bam and you knew exactly how that would turn out- the yelling, the laughing, the storming off set. All the guys stood around, looming over you with bated breaths as you slowly leaned over the snake, the hot Florida sun beating down on your skin as the air swam with anticipation. But as you were creeping in, right before your lips made contact with the Cobra’s forehead, the thing lunged at your neck. Everybody hooted and hollered as you grabbed the snake and lurched back in an act of quick reflexes, chuckling in surprise, but before you could crack some wise ass joke, your cockiness betrayed you and that smug grin on your face was wiped right off your face when you felt a pair of fangs sink into your wrist. “Agh! Fuck…” Yanking your hand back, you shook out the sting as you stumbled to your feet. Steve, who was serving as impromptu cameraman after Rick ‘refused any part in your dangerous bullshit’, focused the lense in on the blood that was tricking from your arm, “Shit…that’s gnarly, dude.” Though you probably should have been concerned for yourself, you couldn’t stop thinking about how awesome it looked as Johnny patted you on the back appreciatively, “That was great, Y/N!”

As you were getting walked to the medic tent, the only one who didn’t want any part in your little victory parade was Bam, still sitting half slumped back on set, glaring at you as you walked away. Big whoop, girl gets bit by snake. Last week he got on a teeter totter in the bullpen and you don’t see that on any headlines. Maybe he hated the way the guys talked and joked with you like you were one of them even though you joined the Jackass cast less than a month ago. On the other hand, maybe he was still pissed off by the very real but entirely unspoken ‘Don’t Fuck the Stuntgirl’ rule. Of course Bam brought that sorta thing up when you first joined because he’ll there’s a lot you can do once you’ve got a chick in your group, but Johnny quickly shut the idea now by saying since they wouldn’t screw any of the other guys in the crew, they’d be keeping their hands off of you. Keeps things from getting awkward when you gotta see eachother on Monday, you know? But since Bam’s running theory of you only having gotten on set after getting into Knoxville’s pants hadn’t been disproven, he wrote it off as him making the whole thing up to keep the pretty girl all to himself. Greedy asshole. Who was he to say what he could and couldn’t stick his dick into? God, he bet the whole crew was passing you around- behind trailers, in empty hotel rooms, or what about those porta-potties on set…Bam decided to stop thinking about that once some things got stirred in his mind he didn’t really want to think about too long.

Getting bandaged up in the medic tent, you hardly noticed when Bam walked in after everybody left, watching quietly and scanning you up and down from where he stood. He looked from the bruises on your knees Bam was sure he knew the source of, to your baggy clothes that always made you look like a guy with the way they sat on your body, to your hair that was unkempt and showed just how little you cared about your appearance in his eyes. You were the exact opposite of Bam’s type in women- that dark lipstick tight bootcut fantasy goth chick with a great ass that also wasn’t a bitch. Looking up from where you were bleeding through your gauze, you made eye contact with him nonchalantly, “What is it?” Bam’s eye twitched at the disinterested tone in your voice but he kept up the whole smug thing, “You cryin’?” The medic had to scoot out of the way as you leaned in towards him and squinted at the realization that Bam was getting that whole ‘hating you’ stick up his ass again. “Does it look like I’m crying?” Part of him wanted to see you cry. Bam’s eyes drifted back to your hair, thinking about how satisfying it would be to grab a handful of it and yank you to your feet with his lips pressed tight against your ear as he said every awful word he was too nice to say to your face- that he knew everything about nasty hoes like you worked, and while it was cute how quickly the guys took to you, he was getting pretty damn sick of it so it was time for you to get the hint and hit the road. But he didn’t.

The medic passed you a container of pills that you palmed and that’s when Bam got an idea, “That snake oughta be on antibiotics instead’a you.” Scoffing at his unoriginal joke, you cocked your head to the side, “Really? You think a little blood’s that nasty? Y’damn baby…” Outside the tent, there was no doubt amongst the guys that another one of your petty fights were starting and nobody was looking forward to it. Well, except you. You found the little bickering thing you had with him fun, especially with all the weak ass insults Bam threw at you. “I mean, anything that comes outta you’s nastier than whatever Steve-O’s got goin’ on in him- that guy’s a disease nest.” This was too easy. “Yeah, says the guy who let him tongue his ass wound...” Wait, you were at that party too- the one where Steve popped ecstasy and went around kissing everyone cause he ‘felt good’? Bam’s jaw clenched at the way you always had an answer to him- how dare you one up him. He jabbed a finger at your chest, “Oh, don’t talk that shit. You wouldn’t even have the balls to get branded in the first place!” Unable to help yourself from cracking a smile, your giddiness was apparent in your voice, “I got more balls than you do.” As much as you hated how much of a little bitch he could be, you always thought the back and forth thing you had between him wasn't ever that serious (a contrast to the way Bam viewed it). Delight filled you as he stormed out of the flap of the white medical tent, blushing and emasculated and- while he would never admit this, kind of turned on by the angry banter like it was some kinda foreplay.

You needed soap. That’s how it started- after shooting one day, you went back to the hotel and noticed halfway through your shower that the room service lady forgot to leave any of those tiny complimentary soaps. Groaning, you got out of the comfortable, warm, sorely needed shower and put on a towel, thinking you could go next door and get some from the guys. It’s not like you hadn’t seen them naked before, so them seeing you in a towel was no big deal. Water dripped off of your legs as you walked out into the hallway, pushing open the door to their room which was left unlocked. From what you could tell, they had gone to the hotel bar promptly after filming, so you didn’t bother to announce your presence as you walked in. However, you had one major oversight in this- Bam, who you didn’t notice from where he was sitting on one of the beds on the near side of the room. Now, you and him could have gone on just hating and fucking with each other and everything would’ve been fine, but this one incident would change it.

From where he sat on the bed, Bam silently watched as you walked around like you owned the place, softly humming to yourself as you rummaged through their shower- through his shower, the towel you wore riding up dangerously high on the backs of your thighs, skin still glistening wet as you bent over, nabbing a few little bottles of shampoo and conditioner. He glared at you with contempt through your reflection in the mirror. You’d probably do this even if the whole crew was here, wouldn’t you? Just stroll on in, nearly naked, parading yourself around in front of all those dudes like it was nothing. Shameless. He knew better than anything what that kinda porno logic setup would devolve into. Wait- christ, was he…? Oh, oh yeah. Yep. Bam couldn’t believe himself- he was actually getting hard. More than that, you had no clue he was there in the first place even as you turned to leave, and you wouldn’t have noticed him at all if he didn’t stand up to catch your attention. “What’re you doin’?” Turning around, you met Bam’s gaze, maybe six inches away from his body as you held up your towel with one hand and presented him your spoils in the other, “I’m getting soap…?” Unceremoniously plucking one of the bottles from your hands, he squinted at you like he was accusing you of something, “So you think y’can just waltz on in here and take my shit whenever you feel like it?”

Looking around at the empty room, you got an idea to really get under his skin. You know how Bam uses his little rich boy MTV paycheck to get whatever he wants? Well your pockets may not be lined as generously but you still found a way. Taking a step forward, you pressed your body right up against his, the same way you saw all those flirty girls do to him at the bar, letting your towel slip down a little as your voice dropped into a teasing coo, trying to provoke him, “Aww, what’s the matter? You don’t like sharing?” While you were referring to the soap, Bam took it as a double entendre and thought there was no way you didn’t mean it in the way he was thinking- what with the way your chest was squished tight against his torso or how you were practically straddling his thigh in, and this is important here, only a towel. In your eyes, this was the same as any other day you were going back and forth on set, but Bam, oh. He could feel the surge of hormones in his bloodstream as his breath caught in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. The way your body was curving against his nearly made him forget about why he hated you so much. Snapping back to reality, he couldn't tell if this was anger or lust that made him speechless, but it was probably a mix of the two. Leaning in closer, you pressed your lips close to your ear, his very obvious state of arousal only fueling your teasing as you words fell slow, melodically from your lips as you enunciated, trying to keep yourself from laughing and fucking it all up. “I’m gonna take this soap back to my room, and I am going to rub it over every inch of my wet. Naked. Body- and you are gonna do nothing about it. So, uh…” Reaching out with a grin, you grabbed the bottle back from Bam’s frozen hand. Now, logic would dictate that this is right about when the two of you would say fuck it and start going at eachother, but that’s not what you had in mind. “Thanks!” Slipping out the door and shutting it loudly, you left him standing there- unable to respond, entirely conflicted, and hard. Fuck.

Why was this happening? He was Bam Margera- Bam fucking Margera- he could have hordes of playboy bunnies folowing him arround wherever he want and fawning over him like their lives depended on it, but noooo. He had to fall for the gross chick he worked with. Perfectly fine, well-adjusted (debatable) women literally threw themselves at his feet on a day to day basis, and the one he’s got his eye set on? Yeah, last week she was doing lines of Tabasco sauce with Steve-O off the table at Denny’s cause they got bored waiting for their food. What a catch. He didn’t even want to meet up with the guys to go pick up chicks at the bar anymore- you know, the civilized kind that wore makeup and shoes you couldn’t skateboard in. And you didn’t even want him the way those girls wanted him- you were messing with his head like some succubus. Very quietly, he sat back down in the bed and thought about some things.

Bam was having a hard time letting everything that was happening with you go- that’s not the kind of guy he is, you know? Too many big feelings in a small package gotta go somewhere. So when he showed up on set the next day, hyped up to do that stunt where he was set to get shot by a riot control shotgun wearing nothing but a leather jacket for protection, his emotions were not in any way subdued when he caught word that Knoxville gave the stunt to you. “Dude!” Storming up to confront him, Bam pulled the asshole away from whatever conversation he was having with Jeff, “I mean, seriously? You got Y/N to do the stunt and not me?” Sticking his hands up in a mercy gesture, Johnny stammered but managed to explain himself, “I’m just sayin, man- It’d work better for her! You know- you have your skating stuff, she’s got the dangerous stuff! You could always watch from the sidelines…” Yeah, real nice save there, Knoxville. Bam hated whenever you did stunts- not because he didn’t like that you were equally as reckless as him, no way- it’s just that he thought chicks shouldn’t be doing dangerous shit, and you were always there to throw yourself in harm's way, and that annoyed him. You were standing off to the side, joking around with Chris and Steve when you felt someone suddenly grab your shoulder from behind and roughly spin you around to face him, “You know, I had some fuckin’ ideas about you, Y/N, but this really takes the cake.” Grimacing, you stood eye to eye with Bam, a little too close to his body to be comfortable. “What the hell are you talking about?” Bam took a step back, eyeing you up and down as he got ready to say what had been eating away at him for weeks. His voice was tense as he nearly growled, “You’re fuckin’ Knoxville.” What?

“Wait, I’m fucking Knoxville?” You certainly were not, but your mind put two and two together lightning fast, tracing his train of thought. It was like a switch flipped in you as rage curled up in your stomach, springing out of your mouth in words that dripped with venom, “Oh, please! You’re probably takin’ it up the ass from all of ‘em!” It was only natural that you would deny it- I mean, it’s kinda taboo for people to admit that they’re sleeping with their boss. But Bam couldn’t summon the words he needed to use to defend himself from what you claimed, so he said the only words his anger-fried brain could come up with, “Fuck you!” Flashing a grin, you got all in his personal space as your voice went from anger to condescension, “Oh, you wish.” Back to the snarky shit with this woman. Okay, maybe he did, but that was none of your business. Bam pressed his lips together as he could feel the tips of his ears heating up, and he couldn’t tell if he was getting flustered from the way you were challenging him or how correct what you were insinuating was. The fact that your lips were nearly touching his wasn't helping either. Taking advantage of your close proximity, Bam quickly reached out and snatched the shotgun from where you were gripping it and dashed off.

Oh, you said Bam had no balls? Yeah, he’s got more balls than the tri-state lottery, bitch. Shoving the gun into Ryan’s hands, he didn’t even notice when Rick started filming from where he was setting up the camera for the stunt you were supposed to do. Stepping back, Bam smacked his own chest twice in a challenging gesture, looking at his best friend but saying words he wanted to say to you, “C’mon, man. Hit me. Do it!” Knowing better than anyone the way he could get into these kinds of moods, Ryan knew the only way to talk him down was to go along with whatever stupid plan he had in mind. Groaning, he steadied the sight on where Bam was standing, aiming for his stomach where it would result in the least damage, and pressed his finger against the trigger. This loud, sickening whip cracking sound made everyone on set jump. The man on the other end of the barrel doubled over with this noise you only hear out of dying animals, falling to the ground with a thump as every ounce of air wooshed out of his lungs in a second. It was the way Bam looked like roadkill with how he curled up on the ground, not making a sound or movement, that made you feel a shred bad for him for the very first time. Looking around, you were the first person to call out, “…Medic?”

Internal bleeding they said. Three broken ribs on account of Dunn’s stellar marksmanship and a gnarly bruise, or so you heard from when the guys gathered around his bedside and were all gasps and oohs after Bam pulled down the sheets in when Steve asked to take a look at it. But after everyone was done grimacing and telling him how awesome the footage would turn out, they flooded out the door and the only person who remained was you, smugly sitting in one of those stiff hospital chairs as Bam lay across from you in his bed, hooked up to electrodes and shit like they do in movies. But there was something different in your eyes as you got up to his bedside- not so much your usual loathing towards him, but more so fascination. Bam got knocked down a peg, and you were satisfied knowing his ego was bruised alongside those abs of his he so loved to flaunt.

Bam’s words came out in a weak mumble as he looked up at you, “What d’you want?” As much as he tried to appear all tough and be a big angry man, you couldn’t help but find the sight of him laying back with his hair a little messy and that glossy look in his eyes from the epidural kinda cute with how vulnerable he was. He couldn’t make fun of you when he was at your mercy like this, what with not being able to even sit up on his own, much less fight or come up with any worthwhile insults. With one finger, you pointed down to the swollen, dark purple mark on Bam’s pale skin, lit up from the light flooding in the window. You nearly snickered, “I wanna touch it.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Bam scoffed at your suggestion, “Fine, whatever….It doesn’t even hurt- oh, fuck!“ Recoiling when you poked the tender bruise, Bam nearly let out a whimper as he winced, pain shooting through his chest. Letting out a breathy groan, he muttered, his head falling back against the pillow, “Don’t- don’t do that…” Part of you wanted to laugh at him, call him a pussy, and go find out wherever the other guys were headed, but another part of you, maybe one you went too eager to own up to, couldn’t deny that he looked kind of pretty when he got fucked up, all fragile and defeated. Like it activated something primal in you, this unconscious attraction towards broken things. You came to the realization that, when that mouth and that attitude of his wasn’t fucking it up, he was pretty hot.

The thing is, both of you liked each other, but neither were too eager to jump at that whole romcom style ‘confessing your feelings’ thing, so for the next few weeks, you tried to keep up the whole hating each other charade. Like when you and him were on the mini-ramp Chris hauled to set with his truck to give you something to do in between filming, and Bam just kept messing up whatever trick he was intent on doing that day. Up he’d go, then down to the plywood with a slam that left him a shiny new bruise- back and forth. “Y’know, it’s a lot easier to do tricks once you’ve learned to stay on your board.” You taunted, kicking up your board to stand on the one side of the ramp. But as he was about to reply with some smart ass response, Bam nailed whatever stupidly over complicated thing he was attempting. “Hahaha! Yes!” Popping his board up with one foot and, turning to you with a triumphant grin, he did one of those victory crotch grabs. “Suck it!” Ignoring the fact that, given the right circumstances, you probably would’ve taken him up on that offer, you rolled your eyes, looking him up and down in a way you hoped looked sarcastic as you spat, “Yeah, in your dreams.” Still, while the venom in your words was still there, it was dulled in a way, like a swallowing a spoonful of sugar after bitter medicine. “Oh, I’d rather rip my dick off and shove it up my ass before I let you suck it!” Bam had the same shitty comebacks as ever.

And the fact that you two were phoning it in wasn’t lost in the slightest on the rest of the guys. They’d try to drop hints to Bam and say that if he’s got the hots for you that it’d be a good idea to try not being an asshole for once, but he’d just laugh them off and tell them that that’s what chicks like nowadays- assholes. But they had no clue. All anyone else knew was that the seemingly boiling hatred you had for each other had melted into a mere simmer, practically friendly banter. Maybe Bam didn’t hit the mark when he said you were fucking the whole crew, but was right about you being shameless, as he would come to find out a few weeks into whatver the two of you had going on. But now, he wasn't one to complain when you pulled him behind a trailer on set, or into an empty hotel room- hell, even into one of those porta-potties on set. Honestly, it was just like how he imagined.

[polyamorousmood]

hey! I hope this isn't too non-traditional of a poly situation to be sending in, but this is the only place I think I'll be able to get good advice. As a pre-ask thing, to be clear, my best friend is the love of my life, I am aroace, we're very happily in love.

So, a while ago, we were dating, and it ended pretty quickly bc he came out as aroace. I asked him a lot whether or not that was the full reason he broke up with me and he insisted that it was and if it was going to be anyone it would have been me. I figured out that I was also aroace a couple months later. Recently (about a year after we first met and started dating) he got a boyfriend. I already set a firm boundary of no talking to me about his boyfriend bc it made me have a paranoid breakdown once and I don't want to do that to him, but even just the knowledge of him existing is pissing me off so much. I can't ask him to break up with him because I would never do thst to him and I love him more than anything even if this situation is hurting me like this, but I did recently ask him how the relationship was going with him being aroace, and he said that he isn't really aroace and he just wasn't ready for a relationship with me and thinking about that makes me want to cry. I don't want something romantic with him, I'm very much aroace and very sex and sensuality repulsed, I just hate that this random guy who I don't even know and never will (I don't want to bc I know I'd end up being a dick to him if I did meet him) is somehow more important to him than me, even if he insists thst isn't how it is. Since the situation isn't changing, I really need help with dealing with the jealousy. I've tried a ton of stuff and every single time I think about him I still want to kill him. I really don't know what to do, and my therapist isn't being particularly helpful (she isn't poly tho so she doesn't have experience with weird situations)

Hi. I'm sorry you're having such a hard time with this.

I'm curious how "he got a boyfriend" went down, and why you didn't bring up your concerns about his honestly to him when he was initially talking to you about it. Or if you did, why it still... doesn't seem resolved😬.

Not to put emotions in your mouth, but it sounds like a large proportion (though certainly not all) of your issue here stems from you feeling lied to about the breakup. This would damage anyone's trust and faith in the relationship, and I think having a formal talk about why he handled it the way he did and if that will continue in your refigured relationship will really help you. Maybe he didn't lie, maybe he was genuinely confused (for example, "if I can't make a relationship work with this person I feel a deep connection with, I must be aroace!" [one year later] "yo wtf I wanna fuck this other person?")! I think you should acknowledge -- with him, if possible -- that hurt. You feel like you want to cry? So cry. Giving the feeling full expression makes it easier to work through (and the only way out is through, darling).

Be prepared to explain why it hurts so much. The betrayal, your assumption that since he was aroace y'all were on the same page and he'd functionally be your life partner, or whatever the fuck.

Aside from the advice in this post (please read it in full📖, it is all applicable here), you have a LOT of legwork🦵 to do in unpacking and deconstructing your feelings. I think this worksheet outlines how to do that well (though, you know, tweak the wording in your head, because its aimed at a more traditional romance). If done right, it will be difficult and time consuming⌛. I recommend working through the worksheet slowly, in at least two separate sessions an hour or longer each. 'Cause shit takes time to sink in. In fact, you will have to remind yourself of the things you learn doing it for weeks to come, if not longer, so don't be afraid to revisit it! There is no shortcut, but I hope you and your best friend can be on the same page and you can have support while you navigate it.

Remember, the boyfriend didn't do anything wrong. He cares about this guy you care about. Try to see him as an extra support for him, rather than competition.

Good luck out there, space cowboy. There is hope 💛 <- its a yellow heart for friendship, get it?

[a41-i-finally-caved]

When I found your fics a couple of months ago I devoured them. Now I get ridiculously excited every time I see a new update to ANY of your stories. You are an exquisite writer, and you have given such depth, grace and nuisance to JJ’s tale. In particular, WTK is so special. And I often re-read it. I wanted to let you know that, because as the credits rolled on season 4, one of my first thoughts was I hope A41 doesn’t abandon their stories. I could understand why you might. What the show runners did was heartbreaking and horrible. I still cannot comprehend how anyone could create JJ and then do what they did to his character. I don’t plan on watching the show again, but I will always read you fics, as long as you continue to publish them. You really are a remarkable writer, and I hope you continue to explore JJ’s story in whatever form it inspires. Thank you for loving JJ and for choosing to share your wonderful work.

Aw thank you so much! I just checked out your blog and you are spot on with your take on JJ, S4, and how it fits into the larger experience of the viewers/fans. Well said :)

"I hope you continue to explore JJ’s story in whatever form it inspires"--haha oh gosh I shouldn't laugh, but I've been literally haunted by a S4 fix-it fic concept that I've been too pissed off to write down. So safe to say the inspiration for new fic is still there, even if I've still gotta hash some emotions out with myself first. That said, I won't be abandoning any of my started stories. It'd feel unfair to myself, you guys, and--as dumb as it sounds--to JJ lmao

WTK is still my baby... and honestly one of the best things I've done in a while lol. It's been amazing and kind of wild to have so many people going full 'hell yeah' with me on it. I'm so glad you've enjoyed it! Really makes all the time and investment worth something <3

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

When life catches up

Ch.3

The day at work came to an end and Y/n cleaned her desk so that she could get down to Craig which had texted her 5 minutes ago that he is waiting for her downstairs in the car park. She put the last paperwork of the day in her bag deciding that she would be finishing this one at home when she came back. Because why should she go to bed if she could still work and not think about what her life has come to. Not think about how tausend of people could die if she and the FBI would do one thing wrong.

She was afraid and she tried desperately to shut down her emotions. But it would not work and working her self to the point of exhaustion only worked for a short period of time. But that wouldn’t stop her from still doing it.

Gibbs was the only other person left in the building when she took her full bag and made her way to the elevator. “Good night Gibbs” he didn’t even look up from what he was doing. “Well I’m off” she turned around and pressed the button to call the elevator. “You know you shouldn’t take all that work home with you it isn’t good. I speak from experience” he still didn’t look up but it made her turn around to him again. “What do you mean?” She put her long fringe behind her ear.

At last he looked up he even stood up and moved over to her. “I haven’t said anything the last couple of weeks but I do notice things. You have been avoiding us. You don’t sleep and you take work with you. It isn’t healthy you know. You should rest” she exhaled. “I’m fine Gibbs. It’s nothing.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes knowing she was lying straight to him. “It wasn’t a question. I know you’re going through something right now what it is I have no idea as it seems you’re not comfortable enough to tell any of us… but you’re going on a break. Give me the documents.” He was holding his hand out to her. She was shocked. “What do you mean go on a break. I can’t… I… what would I even do? I can’t just stop right now!” A single tear was rolling down her cheek simply because of frustration and exhaustion. “You know what Gibbs here. Here you go” she was pulling out the folder of documents laying it down on the nearest surface. Without saying anything more she walked over to the elevator and got in. Leaving him behind.

He didn’t know how to feel. A man like Gibbs wasn’t known to have many feelings but right now he felt many emotions. He felt bad because she was clearly not in a good place. Bad because she wouldn’t let him help her and frustrated because he was helping her but she wouldn’t let him. He wanted to run to her telling her he was sorry and that she should let him fix things. Let him fix her problems. Let him hold her so she could sleep well. But he didn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that because their relationship wasn’t like that. She didn’t know about his feelings towards her. How he longs to hold her. Kiss her. But he’s only able to look from afar. Be her friend if you could call them that. Because she has a boyfriend now. How? When? Who? He wants to be that for her. But he can’t.

Meanwhile she was looking for Craig’s car in the parking lot. Still being frustrated about the current situation. She was pissed not only was she stressed about working 24/7 for ncis and the fbi now she was suspended from her normal job. She found Craig’s car opening the door and sliding in. “How was work honey” that was his attempt on a joke. “Craig’s please don’t right now isn’t the right time. I was just suspended!” She tried to sound nice knowing that he wasn’t at fault. Well in a way he was but she agreed to help so it really was her own fault. But it was still frustrating knowing she wasn’t able to keep her own live together. “Anyway where are we going now that I am able to commit 100%?”

After months of not posting I found time to write again. It’s short but hey. Hope you guys like it and are still interested in the story. Xx

@thecraziestcrayon @aleck-cross @yourdailymemedelivery @drakelover78 @xxbeckybeexx-blog @nighttimestarz @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @youretoosweetforme @kittenlittle24

[aspd-culture]

aspd and adhd(/possible autism) culture is realizing only once you're out of high school "ohhhhhhh wait, so i thought i wasn't abused growing up, but actually i was and it only stopped due to covid, and that resulted in my osdd system and aspd?"

buckle up, this is Long and definitely classifies as a Vent. honestly, you can ignore the middle section and jump to the next blank line of space if you want.

jesus christ. i was punished more harshly than my peers, i struggled to make friends, i was put into a little school program where board games were used to reinforce good behavior in problem kids which i only realized two months ago, my memory issues (which were always there, but only noticed in fifth grade) got me into so much shit with every authority figure ever, i broke a window using one of those mechanical hamster things that were popular at the time by accident but i didn't care at all, that's just scratching the surface

memories of things have been coming back to me lately. according to my mom i was such a nice little kid, always shared and was polite and highly empathetic, all the goods.

school came along, flipped everything on its head. i remember harassing and hurting animals, and people, and sometimes telling those people not to tell—not because i felt bad but because i didn't want to get into trouble again, it was an inconvenience. my home life was pretty good but other kids left me out of things a lot and sometimes called me names, even the neighbors' kids i liked to hang out with would make me the monster of their games and that does something to a kid (one of them is also the reason i'm a victim of cocsa). when i did something wrong or bad there was only punishment because i "should know not to do that" and so i had to teach myself how to be a functioning and good member of society. i got good at lying towards the end of third grade, the skill got better from there with every punishment i faced

when a former friend told me "hey, you have aspd traits/might have aspd" i went and found the checklist, because thorough research is how i work, went through it. at the time i didn't think it fit very well because "yes, i experience that but that's pretty normal for people, i learned how to manage it under several layers of creating a socially acceptable person just like everyone else"

i've gone back to it a couple times since and wow, surprise surprise, everything applies! the "this doesn't apply to me because i have a system to help with this thing" mindset means the thing still applies! there's some stuff, namely the destruction and truancy, that i didn't do but that's solely because i knew i couldn't get away with it and therefore didn't bother trying. so thanks to aaaaaaall that stuff and more, i definitely grew up with both conduct disorder and odd, and now it's aspd

i can't say i'm mad about having aspd? it causes problems in my life, yes, but i've spent so long wrangling myself into a form small enough to fit into society's box that it's not the worst thing anymore. i think i'm more mad at society, my peers, for not helping me with this and being kind where they should've, especially my mom as of recently

that said: it is fucking hard-wired into me that there's only good people and bad people in the world. harmful behavior towards me (or someone else doing something i can't forgive) is automatically met with hammurabi's eye for an eye. the coping mechanisms i use work very well, are generally healthy, and people who don't do anything to calm themselves down and think rationally tend to piss me off. i have been fighting those things for a while but they're the ones that simply won't go away. hamburger help me.

aspd-culture-is

There's a lot of good information in this ask. Too many people see ASPD as a direct result of physical abuse or CSA/SA, when a lot of ASPD symptoms really develop around things that are seen as smaller issues, where a child's problems get diminished by the people who are supposed to help that child to the point where they feel the only person that will help them is themself.

More than anything else, I personally think a very quick and simple way to decrease the number of people who end up with ASPD would be to get parents and other caregiving adults, and honestly society as a whole, to understand that regardless of how simple, silly, or insignificant it may seem to someone older, these "silly" things are often the worst thing the child has experienced up until that point. Someone always having to be the monster sounds like nothing to an adult, leading to no response to help besides maybe "they're just teasing you, ignore them". But "just teasing" is the most social rejection a child has experienced to that point, and so it is extremely distressing and emotionally painful. It feels like the most isolated they could possibly be, because they haven't been around long enough to experience worse. Then, the child is told to ignore it, which not only fails to make them feel better, but often causes it to get even worse as the other kids try and push harder to get the reaction they're looking for. Do they eventually give up? Sometimes. But the lengths and extremes many bullies will go to when "just teasing" doesn't elicit a response is disturbing and that fact is either unknown to or ignored by adults.

Part of why always being made the monster does something to a kid is that it is treated as a non-issue. When that is what a developing brain learns is the reaction to their pain, they will no longer seek outside help when things become extreme.

TW: descriptions of SA/r threats. Skip the following paragraph and move to the next one to avoid. Also a bit of a vent.

When I was in school, I was teased. I was made the dog who was not allowed to talk or a person with their vocal chords removed any time we played pretend. Sometimes they made me a rock or stick on the ground, even. It sounds like nothing, and when I was told it would go away if I ignored them, I listened. It didn't stop them. It led to an entire set of multiple schools that were combined into one building seeing me as a verbal and sometimes physical plaything; a place to take out your angst and distress. I lost my personhood in their eyes, so my understanding of social interactions were tainted and colored by the way my peers treated me. I told anyone who tried to befriend me not to be seen talking to me, to bully me publicly so they wouldn't get the treatment I got, so even the few people who tried to be kind got a skewed, unnatural social interaction with me. Many listened, and I don't hold that against them at all. That's simply what they had to do to make it. It got to the point of receiving verbal and *detailed, written-out, and signed* r word threats, and boys who were 11 years old talking about kidnapping tying me up in their parents attic and using me whenever they wanted (theirs was more detailed). Some even attempted to touch me, and adults nearby ignored it because "X likes to handle it themselves, they don't like when adults get involved", because I learned that they would only vaguely say stop, and it would get worse. That's what happens when you just ignore it.

And what do we call a person who learns that only they can protect themselves, and who doesn't understand any positive interaction with anyone that isn't transactional? Antisocial. I hate the idea what a positive relationship with family is incompatible with ASPD, sorry about the rant. Because of how ASPD develops, I refuse to dislike or resent myself or my symptoms when it comes to ASPD. If people didn't want me like this, they shouldn't have treated me like this.

Plain text below the cut:

There's a lot of good information in this ask. Too many people see ASPD as a direct result of physical abuse or CSA/SA, when a lot of ASPD symptoms really develop around things that are seen as smaller issues, where a child's problems get diminished by the people who are supposed to help that child to the point where they feel the only person that will help them is themself.

More than anything else, I personally think a very quick and simple way to decrease the number of people who end up with ASPD would be to get parents and other caregiving adults, and honestly society as a whole, to understand that regardless of how simple, silly, or insignificant it may seem to someone older, these "silly" things are often the worst thing the child has experienced up until that point. Someone always having to be the monster sounds like nothing to an adult, leading to no response to help besides maybe "they're just teasing you, ignore them". But "just teasing" is the most social rejection a child has experienced to that point, and so it is extremely distressing and emotionally painful. It feels like the most isolated they could possibly be, because they haven't been around long enough to experience worse. Then, the child is told to ignore it, which not only fails to make them feel better, but often causes it to get even worse as the other kids try and push harder to get the reaction they're looking for. Do they eventually give up? Sometimes. But the lengths and extremes many bullies will go to when "just teasing" doesn't elicit a response is disturbing and that fact is either unknown to or ignored by adults.

Part of why always being made the monster does something to a kid is that it is treated as a non-issue. When that is what a developing brain learns is the reaction to their pain, they will no longer seek outside help when things become extreme.

TW: descriptions of SA/r threats. Skip the following paragraph and move to the next one to avoid. Also a bit of a vent.

When I was in school, I was teased. I was made the dog who was not allowed to talk or a person with their vocal chords removed any time we played pretend. Sometimes they made me a rock or stick on the ground, even. It sounds like nothing, and when I was told it would go away if I ignored them, I listened. It didn't stop them. It led to an entire set of multiple schools that were combined into one building seeing me as a verbal and sometimes physical plaything; a place to take out your angst and distress. I lost my personhood in their eyes, so my understanding of social interactions were tainted and colored by the way my peers treated me. I told anyone who tried to befriend me not to be seen talking to me, to bully me publicly so they wouldn't get the treatment I got, so even the few people who tried to be kind got a skewed, unnatural social interaction with me. Many listened, and I don't hold that against them at all. That's simply what they had to do to make it. It got to the point of receiving verbal and *detailed, written-out, and signed* r word threats, and boys who were 11 years old talking about kidnapping tying me up in their parents attic and using me whenever they wanted (theirs was more detailed). Some even attempted to touch me, and adults nearby ignored it because "X likes to handle it themselves, they don't like when adults get involved", because I learned that they would only vaguely say stop, and it would get worse. That's what happens when you just ignore it.

And what do we call a person who learns that only they can protect themselves, and who doesn't understand any positive interaction with anyone that isn't transactional? Antisocial. I hate the idea what a positive relationship with family is incompatible with ASPD, sorry about the rant. Because of how ASPD develops, I refuse to dislike or resent myself or my symptoms when it comes to ASPD. If people didn't want me like this, they shouldn't have treated me like this.

[momo-de-avis]

I'm going to try and explain my head, which is about to explode, as best I can. I have a friend who is a very good friend and has helped me immensely with my work, getting me to join numerous other companies and widen my experience. But he's intense. He has a way of seeing the world that is divided in absolutes, in extremes, and unwittingly (I don't doubt it's all out of good intentions) he puts so much pressure on a person more than once someone had to tell him to back off.

To summarise, he got me into a company. It didn't work out (this was the woman who did a million different trainings and I got pissed at her and left). He got me into another company, it also didn't work out (this was the company whose sales tanked and they cancelled all my bookings. They're also extremely disorganised and I hate working with disorganised people). I expressed my frustration to him, cause right now I'm only with Blue and Purple companies, and they don't pay well. Well, blue company actually pays miserally bad.

I've been feeling frustration out of this for a month now. A couple days ago a free tour guide approached me and we had a chat. He said he was interested in working for Blue Company but they were rude to him. When he asked me what they paid us, I told him. He was quite shocked. He said he did food tours for another company and they paid substantially better. Later that day I'm doing a food tour and I'm at this restaurant talking to the waiter. He says he has another guide that shows up once in a while, and she'd paid X amount disregarding the number of people. Then he says 'you must be paid the same, right?' he was shocked when I said we are paid half, and that's for a full gorup. Less people means less money. He was even more shocked when he learnt that yes, we are paid less if clients simply don't show up.

That stacked up on my frustration. But then friend came along and made ir worse.

The thing he does is that he tries to offer solutions, which I'm appreciative of. But they're intense and he lacks perspective on how other people live their life and their constraints. He says to me my best chance at life, at a career, is doing a post-grad in tour guiding, a well know post grad course that is privileged by many companies. Then he says 'do you have 3000€?' and insists what I should do is sign up for it now. 'You're still in time for entering this school year,' he says. I have to explain to him that yeah, I have 3000€ but it's not like I can just squander it like that. 'Oh but it's okay,' he explains, 'because it's not 3000€ in one go, it's in installments!' Like that solves anything. Brother I have a mortgage to pay. I have pets and a life together with another human being. One just doesn't turn and say 'mommy I'm back in school, please pay' a bitch has to discuss these things.

I tell him my future intentions is to take the exam to become a certified tour guide. But like, future future. He asks me 'when? this year?' I'm like, are you fucking nuts, the exams are in January. He groans like I'm making the wrong decision. I have to hurry, he insists. I have to sign up as soon as possible.

And my question is, fucking why, my brother? I know I'm 35, but I'm not dead, jesus. Who fucking cares if I take the exam when I'm 40?

And he talks with such an intensity, just shooting words like a machine gun, pow pow pow, going at it, 'you gotta', 'you must', and with eloquently stringed sentences like 'this is the turning point of your career' that I feel completely pushed against the wall. This mf really makes me think that I know nothing about my life and that I'm squandering every second I'm alive and not thinking of work. It's enough to be self-conscious of the fact that I'm 35 and starting a career, but he talks, he persists, he insists, like I'm going to be dead by 40, or that there's a time-limit on being a tour guide, a certified tour guide, or whatever fucking propsect at a career in this area he has conceived.

So then we get to the problem. After weeks of this, my brain is malting through my ears. I'm dissatisfied with my situations, I'm resentful of Blue Company because I've been trying to not rely on it completely and yet everything went so wrong I feel I'm being held hostage by them. And he keeps pressuring me with these things, like this genuinely the most intense career advisor you can imagine

But then

He calls me and tells me he has another gig for me. It's a circuit. A circuit means I'll be away from home for 7 days and I'll be solely responsible for a group of fuck knows how many americans. It starts in Porto, it involves some shit in the douro valley, wine tastings, visit to a cellar, and then a day in Aveiro, a city I've been to ONCE and now I should be able to do a walk tour, and then proceeds to Lisbon and Sintra, which is easy peasy.

I've always wanted to do circuits. This one pays extremelly well. But I feel unprepared. I don't know Aveiro, I don't know if I have time to study, and I feel insecure.

But here he comes. He uses absolute statements that completely shake me. 'This will be a hallmark of change for your career' or 'you will have to rescind a week of availability to Blue Company, and things might take a turn' or 'you will become a promoter of Portuguese Heritage'

And I'm sitting there like. Bro I'mm be the queen of England if you keep going. It's not enough that he's been pressuring me to continue, to strive, to think of work at every waking hour, to drop 3000€ for yet another year in my life, to jump into the chance of getting my certification as soon as possible lest I burst into flames at menopause or some shit, and now he offers me a chance of going from 'easy peasy work' to 'completely unfamiliar territory for the first time and utter responsibility' overfuckingnight. And to top it all off, he goes 'you must give me an answer in 48h'.

I'm in such a state, I have a Jewish Heritage tour tomorrow, which I have done before, with a company that is really one of those the clients pay good fucking money and I've been feeling for two weeks like I can't do it. I feel small as shit and I just want to scream at this guy 'SLOW THE FUCK DOWN, NOT ALL OF US GO AT IT AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT MY GUY'

I have to give him an answer tomorrow about the circuit and I don't know what to do. I feel hesitant but my earthbound, grounded acquaintances and friends (including bf) had expressed in more humane terms how this would be a fantastic opportunity for me, and they've offered me info on Aveiro and tricks to learn to get around on a walking tour. Seriously I only remember one canal in Aveiro.

I need a vacation

[drtanner]

God I should be drawing but I'm pissed off about how long drawing takes for me and you're all going to hear about it now.

I'll admit it! I'm sickeningly envious of the artists whose work I see on social media every day when they call something a "quick doodle" or say that they "try not to take more than an hour" on pieces like it or whatever and it's like. Full colour, shaded, usually at least somewhat rendered, meanwhile I've been working on my poxy lineart for several hours and it's still not finished. If I were colouring and shading this fucking thing it would take me two weeks.

All of the advice for getting faster at art is along the lines of "OH JUST FOCUS ON DRAWING QUICKLY AND DON'T WORRY ABOUT QUALITY! THE QUALITY WILL COME ON ITS OWN WHEN YOU GET BETTER AT DRAWING FAST! :))))))))" and it makes me want to chew glass because that's already my fucking drawing technique. I know it's going to take me an age to draw anything so it's a hustle from the start; no warmups, just get straight into it, there's no time for shit like that or we're going to miss our deadline. This sketch isn't as good as it could be but it's good enough. It felt like I was focusing well but it's already nearly midnight and we're only half done. Oh, that doesn't look right - but there's no time to fix it now, I need to get the colours down. Doing it that way looked good when I did it over there, why does it look like shit when I do it again over here? I can't remember how I did it the first time, surely I'm doing it the same way, but if I was, it wouldn't look so terrible. This would look a lot better if I knew how to blend but I don't have time to learn, there's too much to do and I can't afford the time it'd take to experiment when I can't guarantee it'll get the result that I want. This piece looks like dogshit to me but it's the best I can do; here's hoping no one notices how bad it looks! Aaaaaand post! 👏

It's exhausting! Having the Patreon means I draw at least a couple of times a month when I might otherwise just gravitate towards doing nothing for years at a time, but god. It takes up so much of my time and I'm seldom happy with what I make, and for all of the effort I put into it, it feels like I haven't improved in a decade. There's shit I drew years ago that looks better than the stuff I put out now and it's fucking infuriating. How did I do that? I can't remember. I've added all kinds of new techniques to speed up my art but it still seems to take just as long as ever and actively looks worse for it (but it's a cinch that if I went back to doing things like I used to, it would take substantially longer now). What's wrong with me? Why can't I get better?

I work so fucking hard, and for what?

[deanscroissant]

yearning for your love (pat murray x gender!neutral reader)

requested by: @lizardaddams

a/n: i’m literally so sorry that this took me since FEBRUARY to finish?? but honestly thank you for understanding why it took so long. anywho, i hope whoever reads this enjoys it!

requests are closed

warnings: cussing, fluff

Studying abroad was one of the best experiences of your life. You were majoring in Language Studies in Barcelona to become a Translator & Interpreter. You have a passion for traveling, so you figured going that route was your best choice. But your boyfriend (Mr. 'Uptight' Pat Murray) was concerned about you going abroad. You two had been dating for a year, and when you decided to study abroad for the summer, Pat was devastated. He was sick to his stomach when you told him. He was furious at first, but when you explained to him how important this was for you, he changed his heart.

The day you left was emotional--especially for your family, friends, and Pat. Maintaining a distance relationship for three months while balancing school was hard for you. But somehow, you two were still going strong. It made your relationship more robust than ever.

It was now August, and classes ended in two days. You had just finished your last exam for the semester and couldn't wait to jump back on the plane to see your loved ones. Your friends and family knew you were returning today, but Pat was out of the loop. He knew you weren't coming back until the end of the month. You begged everyone not to tell him anything because you wanted to surprise him at the game. Pat talked about this game for the past couple of weeks and wants you here today to hear your voice in the crowd cheering him and his team on. The guys were also disappointed that you couldn't make it to be their cheerleader. Your support always gave him the most incredible luck (as he would say), but he or the team weren't doing so hot without you here. He texted you that a few minutes after you got off the plane. He tried to be discreet because the guys didn't know you were dating. It wasn't like you two were hiding it from them. You just felt there was no need to unless someone asked you if you were in a relationship. With Pat, he doesn't let anyone know his business unless he's cool with them. He'll tell the guys or whenever you decide to say it to them.

While waiting for your reply, Pat was daydreaming on his phone when Vinnie popped up behind his shoulder, startling the redhead. "The fuck, Vinnie?!"

"Who are you texting there, bud?" He asked before reaching to grab his phone but failed when Pat snatched it away before he could. "Piss off, Vin." He sneered, rolling his eyes as he put his phone back in his sports bag.

"Now you know I can't do that, Pat." Vinnie pouted jokingly, sitting down next to him. "Are you cheating on me?"

Pat tried to ignore Vinnie by focusing on the game, but when he glanced back at him, he cracked a smile. Vinnie hollered excitedly at the action, glad he could still make his friend smile at his shenanigans. As Vinnie walked away to annoy someone else, Pat turned his attention back to the bleachers to find you, only to feel another hit of sadness--forgetting that you were on the other side of the world. He was getting ready to grab his phone again when Ty returned to the dugout. "Murray, you're up!"

It felt like you would never make it to his game, which was pissing you off as time passed. You were waiting for your taxi to show up. Your parents had called one for you an hour ago, but you gave them hell once they showed up late. You weren't usually this rude and cranky, but only having one meal and 2 hours of sleep made you this way. Plane rides made you extremely nervous, especially how you were going to surprise Pat. But that plan was ruined when you just knew there wouldn't be any time left to do so.

You wanted to fight the cab driver once he got to the field. However, it was apparent that the game had ended, and the D-Backs had won. You threw your faire on the front seat and grabbed your things before hastily leaving the car. Searching the crowd for Pat, you instantly spotted him. He was so happy that it made you smile and forget about the hell you went through the past few hours. Unfortunately, you didn't realize Pat's dad was standing beside you to greet you. You kind of just blocked him out, and without thinking, you hopped over the fence and booked it toward him. "PAT!" you shouted.

He was hugging Zapata as you were getting closer. His voice was astronomically loud, and you could hear his conversation, "I'm sorry I threw that so hard! I could have really hurt you!" but he stopped talking when he saw you approaching. He immediately shoved Zapata off him and ran to you, "Y/N!"

Once you two got close, you leaped onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Pat wrapped his arms around your waist, buried his face into your neck, and held you tight to him, caressing your head, back, and anywhere his hands could touch you. "Long time no see, honey." He said softly into your ear. You promised you were going to melt even faster in the blazing heat. They both had waited for this moment for so long and hoped that you wouldn't be separated like this again.

"I missed you so much, baby," you said once you pulled away to look at what you would call a beautiful face. Instead, you grabbed it between your hands and smashed your lips into his.

Palacco and Tree just so happened to turn around when they saw you two being intimate, which shocked the hell out of them. "Oh my..." Palacco gasped and looked at Tree, who had the same reaction. "Pat and Y/n are dating?!" Tree exclaimed.

Vinnie jumped and hooted before turning to Ty with his hand out, "Pay up, loser!"

Dells' eyebrows furrowed while watching you two. "How in the hell did we miss that?"

"I don't know," Ty said through gritted teeth as he handed Vinnie his last few bucks from his pocket. "But I'm going to murder them both!"

The guys agreed with Ty and marched over to you and Pat. You two were already laughing since you were the only one who could see them and told Pat what they were saying (because you're an expert at reading lips). You're going to have a ball listening to them harassing you both with a bunch of questions.

[eruhamster]

i hate the feeling of mourning that comes with being cut off from someone. like, i wouldn't even call myself friends with this person. i know for a fact she hated me. but i thought we were at least getting along in the group chat. she'd @ me for stuff and we'd talk. i'd defend her about stuff sometimes. and she was clearly friends with others in the group chat, that's why she was there.

the other day, like probably a week or two ago, she shows some story about some guys that used dark green acne facemasks and took pictures of themselves in it, with the mask all the way around their nose and around their eyes and like, clearly looking like they were doing a blackface bit. the school they were in kicked them out for it and the story was about them going to court about it. she agreed that this was incidental and they didn't mean it, and i and a couple others in the group chat disagreed. it wasn't an aggressive convo, just talking about experiences with these kinds of white guys that do terrible shit and then feign ignorance. but then during the convo she told the other two people, essentially, that if they didn't want to be called racial slurs in video game lobbies or discord channels, they should mute their mic or not be in the discord channel.

i was immediately like 'woah' at that, and while i don't think the conversation got aggressive, she clearly thought she was being dogpiled by 3 different people. she gave some weird apology about feeling differently about the story though no one was really upset with her for that, and when responded to by one of the people she'd basically victim blamed about being called slurs, she said something like 'fine, whatever, you're right. what more do you want from me' and i said she should apologize, and then specified it needs to be toward those two and about what she said about the slurs. she then replied back at me that 'nothing is enough for you' n i just. let that other person handle it, and when he talked to her further she said 'fine i'm stupid' and blocked him on discord and twitter and removed herself from the discord group entirely.

that other person told me later i was being aggressive but i didn't think i was, and i asked others for input with screenshots and only one thought the sarcasm of me saying she should apologize was aggressive (she said 'what more do you want?' and i replied like 'well, you could say something that starts with an s or an a') and my intention had been to be less mean by being less direct. everyone i asked agreed she was being rude and that she was victim blaming and ultimately at fault.

but i still can't stop thinking about it. even if she was in the wrong, even if she seemed like she really overreacted, and even if honestly i didn't like her and she clearly HATED me (we had an issue like.. a year or two prior over her defending harry potter, and like a week after that she got pissed at me just saying ACAB in a channel she wasn't even in at the time, and she then blocked me for months), there's such a strange finality in her cutting us all off, even our mutual friends, that still leaves such a weird sense of mourning.

in a way i feel like that's manipulative in and of itself, because it seems like it's really just a way for her to hurt us and also play victim when it could have just been an agree to disagree sort of thing and her apologizing about her shrugging off the others' experiences with racism, but i still can't stop thinking about it. i wasn't the final straw since i wasn't talking when she decided to block and leave, and again it seemed like most others i asked didn't think i was being aggressive, but the finality of it keeps making me feel like i should go find her and apologize. but for what? it's frustrating. and i know, i know what it's like for people to refuse to see what they've done wrong. i had to cut off someone back 4 years ago now after they really hurt me. and i keep thinking that maybe it's like that, maybe i'm lying to myself and i'm totally at fault and i need to apologize. but then i just look back and it's just. i don't... think i did anything wrong? like honestly. not in a 'i'm a justified asshole' way, i just straight up don't see how this went wrong. and i've been trying to be nicer. i know i come across as aggressive but i am like, trying to reel myself in. so being told i was aggressive initially had me so locked in on thinking i was the problem

but i really. really... can't think of anything. and it's causing such a weird sense of mourning in me for someone i feel like i wouldn't otherwise care either way about