#this is a bad screenshot but i just need all of them to be safe

[tansypawz]

excuse me have you ever explaned why you hate losercake

buckle up because this is gonna be a long response.

cake is one of, if not my favorite bfdi character, and he has been for a very long time. i saw a lot of myself in him and eventually started looking deeper into the details of his personality, his actions and his general character, and i realized, loser did not leave a positive impact on him in any way whatsoever.

let me explain.

at the start of bfb, everyone loves loser. cake included, obviously. cake ends up 'lucky' enough to be in a team with him, a team where everything everyone did always revolved around loser. loser was the 'driving force' behind his team, just to receive all the praise and love from his adoring fans. this, however, is as far as he would go in terms of forming bonds with his team.

at least, that was the case with everyone except for cake.

we know from an episode in bfb B that he wanted to keep that praise from his fans, and to have them never question his judgement or plans.

to keep his fans' trust and devotion towards him, he'd need to constantly present as likeable and friendly, and an easy way to do that is by forming a slightly deeper yet still extremely superficial relationship with one of his adoring fans, in this case, cake. that's when the nudging started. the nudging loser always did to cake whenever it was cake at stake. and of course cake was at first ecstatic to be noticed by his idol ! however, i believe cake was uncomfortable in regards to the joke being made.

you see, when leafy rejoins and gifts needle the 3d cake, you can see cake distraught at the sight of needle eating it, making it safe to assume cake heavily dislikes the visual or idea of cake being eaten, even if it's not sentient like he is. look at this screenshot from the sceen where he sees needle eat the cake

that is not the face of someone who's comfortable with jokes about his object being eaten

but he could never reveal that he was uncomfortable with a form of affection THE loser was giving him. not only would he look bad in front of his idol, but his team was so loser-centric that the slightest criticism would make them violent [for example, in bfb 1 when pin points out they should do the challenge instead of gushing about loser she THROWN INTO THE AIR BY FIREY]. so of course, he played along

and so, this continued on for the next few cake at stakes in bfb A. four or x would mention the safe contestants would get cake, loser nudged cake, cake blushed and gasped. and cake started to lean into the "loser's favorite" bit [take, for example, bfb 6 where he leans into loser after hearing bell bash into the basket they were hiding in], because he was trying to make sure even he believed that the shallow affection loser gave him held some sort of significance, and that pushing his own comfort away for the sake of looking good in front of loser [who was not only his idol, but an important figure amidst all the contestants] and his team was the right call.

but then came bfb 7, and loser was both hated and eliminated. so many people started revolting against him, surely cake can finally let that sealed-up frustration out right ? and so he shouts, "he's gone for a reason". what is he met with?

hostility.

cake, in an attempt to show his true feelings about loser, was immediately pushed down and reproached for it. so he continued to hold it in and when met with hostility, one is hostile in return, and so he starts expressing his frustration in some other ways. take bfb 13 for example, he starts arguing very loudly with eggy about who's "more spiritually connected to loser", which is a very abrupt and confusing shift from his usual polite, gentle self.

WHICH. THAT ARGUMENT BRINGS ME TO ANOTHER POINT. since he was "loser's designated favorite", someone claiming they were closer to loser probably felt so Wrong to him. HE was the one who kept getting nudged. HE was the one loser always addressed. HE was loser's favorite, even if he didn't particularly want that role. he kept up the act of "loser's favorite" long after his elimination, because what else was he supposed to do. that's all he was.

so, during the time between loser's elimination and the beginning of tpot, cake was more aggressive and rude, because it was his only method of releasing the frustration he was feeling. it was mainly towards loser and the general situation, but one could argue part of that frustration could've been towards himself.

anyways, we skip forwards to tpot. cake, despite his anger, still cares about his friendships, which is why in tpot 1, he's disheartened at the sight of having to choose between clock or eggy, two of his friends, and then being completely deserted by eggy.

however, he eventually joins just not, and you can see throughout his time in tpot prior to his elimination, he is visibly much happier than when he was part of the losers. i invite you to look up the "bfb but only when cake is on screen" and "tpot but only when cake is on screen" videos, and you WILL notice the increase in positive cake reactions and dialogues in tpot.

for my final argument, i present his elimination speech. i present to you the full transcript of his final words as a contestant in tpot 8:

he SPECIFICALLY mentions how he was so happy to not be playing for loser, but for himself. he was finally having fun, with a team that he loved and was loved by. if he truly enjoyed loser's presence and attention, if he truly enjoyed being his "favorite", he wouldn't have mentioned this at all.

so yeah. cake doesn't like loser, loser doesn't care about cake. if you dont agree with any of this and STILL think losercake is a good ship then please just block me. don't try to convince me to like losercake because i am not budging from my stance. as i stated before, i see a lot of myself in cake, and maybe this is all self-indulgent and projection and whatever, but it's how i see his character. and it makes me really sad that people call him bland or only see him as "loser's favorite" because he's so much more than that. i could go more in depth about his general character, but i was merely asked to explain why i dislike losercake. so here you go ! this is my reasoning. do with this what you will.

tldr; cake did not like being loser's 'favorite' and merely played along with loser's attention to not look bad in front of his idol and his fellow contestants. he was one of the contestants that talked bad about loser after his elimination in bfb 7, and pointed out how he was happy to play away from him in tpot 8. the fight cake had with eggy in bfb 13 about who was "more spiritually connected to loser" was his way of releasing his frustration, as he was reproached for speaking ill of loser back in bfb 7. he is not bland or one-dimensional, you just probably didnt pay enough attention to detail.

[501starks]

this quick shot of all of them all together in echo's ship makes me so emotional if someone dies in this ship i will fucking RIOT

[orangeocelotmartyn]

Impulse's adventures in Tumblr

Scar: You get too deep in Twitter it gets scary. Impulse: I got too deep in Tumblr, I had to back off. Scar: (surprised) Ooh. Impulse: I started going down a-a little—Gem saw! Gem saw it happen. Gem was helping me with Tumblr and—and I started going down and she's like, "nope, stop. you gotta do a filter for that one." (he laughs) Scar: Uh oh. Impulse: I got a little too deep— Gem: Yeah, but seriously. You guys, y-y-you want to be on the Tumblr, but you don't want to be on the Tumblr, because—you don't have the right…attitude about the Tumblr! If you're gonna be on the Tumblr, you're gonna see the fandom stuff. And if—then you gotta be okay with seeing the fandom stuff. If you're not okay with seeing the fandom stuff, then you gotta let me set up your Tumblr! (beat) I'm personally okay with it all, I don't really care. Scar: (sounding like he's far away) What's the fandom stuff? Impulse: Like the shipping, and…stuff. Scar: Do they get into like, the rates on shipping these days? It's crazy.

Impulse: A-U? What do they call it, A-U? What's A-U stand for? Gem: Just, Alternate Universe Impulse: Alternate Universe, okay. Some of the alternate universe, I read some of those things, they're actually pretty cool. Gem: You shouldn't say that out loud. (Impulse begins laughing) Impulse: Oh, my bad. I'm not supposed to be there, sorry, safe place for you guys, I'm back out—I'm out. I-I didn't— Scar: I never venture to Tumblr. Impulse: Reddit was-Reddit was slow! Okay? If—listen. If Reddit's gonna be slow, I need an outlet for—(laughs) for my—(getting quieter) reading. Stuff. About myself. Gem: I'd be-I think Tumblr's fine, you just have to have the correct mindset. And you also shouldn't be talking about it on stream— Impulse: Yeah, my bad— Gem: —because it freaks them out, and then they start being weird. Tumblr's much better when they're just-they're just normal. Impulse: There was-there was plenty of normal stuff. I just-you can't go down the rabbit holes, I learned. (pause) And then people-people take—they take screenshots of me when I'm standing weird. (He holds up a picture to the camera) Scar: (starts laughing) What, wait what? Wait, hold on— Gem: Oh, wait, we can-we can tell about this. There-there was a Tumblr post that was, that was-that was pointing out all of the times that Impulse stood (Scar exhales a laugh) and-and-and yeah. Yeah, they-they were pretty pretty princess Impulse? Impulse: (talking over her) I stand so macho, what are you talking about (he laughs) Scar: I'm so confused, I-can I get a— Impulse: I literally had to work on my—stance, before Sunday because I saw something Saturday night and I was like, oh— Gem: It's very cute, it's very cute. (Impulse laughs) Scar: Can I see a photo? Impulse: I was pretty princess. Here, I'll bring it up again. Do you have my stream open? Scar: I wanna see it. Impulse: I'll find it again. Scar: Can I just say, can I just say real quick while he's doing that? Impulse—really swoled out. He looks like he could pick-pick up an ox. (Impulse laughs, clearly pleased) I really noticed it, like, Impulse-I see those guns, I was like, "this man could pick up an ox. If I fell on the ground, Impulse, one hand, could pick me up." Impulse: Thanks. Scar: O-oh my god, I just pulled up your stream, except there's an ad, so I just see it up in the little tiny box at the top— Impulse: Oh shoot—c'mon ads! Scar: —so it's even funnier. Oh, there it is. (he laughs delightedly) Little princess. Gem: Tumblr's so good, though, cause you just get to see funny stuff like that, and don't have to scroll through all the politics and crap that's on, like, X. Impulse: Mm. Scar: It's so bad, Gem. Gem: And Reddit. And is dead. It's just nice, I like seeing the fandom at it's purest form, please don't ruin it by telling them that you're on there. Impulse: Okay. Nah, I-I was just on there 'cause I, y'know, I was excited about the event. There was so many things being posted and stuff, I wanted to see—everything that was being said, about w-how people thought about the weekend, and favorite clips, and all that kind of stuff, I wanted to see it all, so I dipped into Tumblr. Just a little bit, just-just to dip my toes in, just a lil bit. I'm back out, I'm fine. I'll be alright.

Scar: But was it nice? Impulse: It was alright. Scar: Because it feels like Reddit, they just nitpick the smallest things, like— Gem: I don't find the Tumblr to be nitpicky at all. Th-they're more like a celebration of the fandom. Whereas the Reddit is like…hates the fan—hates-hates us, a lil bit. Lowkey. Scar: A little, there's a little there, there's a little there, it's—there's an enjoyment of nitpicking. They find the nitpicking more fun, and then Twitter, they're just confused over there. They don't know what's going on. (Impulse laughs) Gem: Tumblr definitely doesn't nitpick half of the—every now and then I'll come across a person who's like. A bit…odd. But you could just block that one person and it normally goes away. Impulse: I didn't understand Tumblr about—cause you can't see when something was posted. At least not on just the scrolling through, it seemed like. I didn't see anything that was like, "this was posted x amount of hours ago." And I'm used to that. So that felt weird to me. And then I didn't quite understand how, like, replies and stuff work. There's something about notes? And then I click on that and it got weird, and, I dunno. Gem: Oh, I can teach you, I can teach you that. Impulse: I just didn't get it. Gem: I didn't think you were going to be getting into like, actually posting. Impulse: I'm a boomer when it comes to—Tumblr. So I think—I'm okay. N-next time we hang out you can help me with my—filters. Gem: I think you should just pretend that you don't use it. Cause— Impulse: Yeah, just, I'm not gonna get on there ever again. (Windows error noise) Say what you want. Uh oh.

[nekropsii]

Nekro, I'm very glad to have your blog exist. You are a shining beacon of hope. I need your input on somebody's opinion, somebody's very bad no good opinion. Somebody told me that Cronus and Mituna was just "blackrom flirting", which is supposedly "no different than normal trolls playfighting". They also told me that Cronus is a GENUINE HERO because of Dualscar! I need your input on this. I want you to tell me everything wrong with this. You don't have to, but I just love seeing you analyze stuff and this particular person's statements made me genuinely angry

Hey, thanks! That means a lot, really! <3

This one's easy. I fear I have to put this under the cut, however, due to... Cronus... Cronusing.

Content Warning: Detailed Discussions and Depictions of Abuse and Sexual Assault. Cronus is there.

Absolutely zero indication is given that it is BlackRom Flirting, or even "Flirting" at all. Just because someone is interacting with someone sexually does not mean it is flirting, or even that they're attracted to them. In this case, it is at the barest minimum Sexual Harassment, but if we are being completely honest about the events that are happening on screen, this is Sexual Assault.

Cronus is not attracted to Mituna. This is not BlackRom. This is just abject hatred from someone who is deeply entitled and wishes to control the bodies of his peers, but especially the bodies of those he deems most vulnerable. Some people counter that idea with the fact that he is literally Sexually Assaulting him here, but that requires a major misunderstanding of why people commit Sexual Assault. It is not about Love, or Lust. Oftentimes, rapists are not attracted to their victims at all. Sexual Violence is an act of Violence, not an act of Attraction. Sexual Abuse is, like all other modes of Abuse, about Control, not about Love. Abusers isolate you from your loved ones and limit your access to your money/car/phone to increase their control over you and your ability to flee or get help. They demean you, lovebomb you, and gaslight you to control your sense of self worth and your sanity. They beat you to control your behavior. They sexually assault you to control your entire sense of bodily autonomy. This is how you get Heterosexual Men sexually assaulting other Men or Boys, or Heterosexual Women sexually assaulting other Women or Girls. It is not about attraction, it is about control, and it is about violence. If I may be candid - I've been assaulted more times than I can count in my life. I can safely say that almost every single person who laid their hands on me in that way was in no way attracted to me, they just thought I was an easy target, and wanted to control me because I was an "Other" at the nigh bottom of the social hierarchy. Violence and Control. Not Attraction. Not Love. Not Lust. Pure Violence.

It does not take much thought to realize that Cronus is completely and utterly disgusted by Mituna and everything he represents - it's just that Mituna is also an extremely vulnerable person with extensive issues with communicating due to his speech impediments and his TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury), and a storied history of not being believed by his peers. He is, in essence, a Perfect Victim.

You do not need to look further for proof on Cronus literally just hating and being disgusted by Mituna than his comment about how he wishes he could kill him for being disabled, and the only reason he didn't was because it would have negative social consequences. Killing Mituna would make him lose control over his own social life. So he doesn't, and he resents Beforus for not being the right kind of Eugenicist to enable that murder. I don't think I need to tell you that this would be a Hate Crime.

I also do not think I need to state that Mituna is not attracted to Cronus, considering the first set of screenshots show nothing but a visceral rejection of all advancements being made towards him. Over and over again, he reiterates his lack of consent, and Cronus just keeps on touching him while constantly Verbally Abusing him for being disabled. At most, one could say Mituna experiences an odd kind of "Fawn Response" to his abuse, possibly hoping that playing the role of a friend will make things not as bad, when really all it does is just open up more opportunities for abuse.

I think it's noteworthy that Mituna has a few speech impediments that effect most of his speech, except for key phrases that he says a lot, and/or is making active effort to say clearly. The implication behind how clearly Mituna is speaking while constantly repeating his lack of consent is positively dismal, especially in conjunction with the fact that Cronus is doing this outside, in a public area, seemingly implying that this is so routine that he isn't even being careful about it anymore... But what's even more depressing is that this clarity continues into Mituna's near constant apologies - many of which are prompted by Cronus, as a reflexive response to abuse.

Also, there's my favorite piece of evidence that this is abuse... The fact that Cronus calls it that, point blank. He just admits to it.

He calls his own actions abuse. Yes, it's sandwiched in... Hmm. Manipulating Meenah to get her off of his case for being abusive towards Mituna by redirecting the guilt onto her for actions that she didn't even do herself...

... But that was still a tacit admission of guilt, was it not? He calls his actions abuse.

Everyone go home. Discourse over. He admits to it. We can all throw bricks at anyone denying it now.

Also, Dualscar was not a hero, and neither is Cronus. Dualscar? Hero? Fucking Dualscar? Orphaner Dualscar was a slave owner who was having a real good time in a BlackRom with a straight up rapist, only to die because he literally couldn't tell a good joke to save his life when he went to tell on her.

The closest Cronus gets to "heroism" is the fact that a prophecy was told to him once, which he assumed to be about him, and then got really upset when it was not about him. It was literally just a Harry Potter joke, though, and also - again - did not happen.

He isn't a hero, he doesn't fill the archetype of a hero, nothing. He's also just pathetic, and now he's the one who's the sexual abuser, rather than Aranea taking that role herself.

Everyone go home. Get outta here. Shoo. SHOO!!!!

Discourse Over!!!!!! I've solved all of it. Thank you for reading.

[oozedninjas]

What do you think of possessive turtles with their s/o? What do you think they'de be like? Other than marking their s/o that is

Ninja turtles + possessiveness

Ah, the smell of toxic relationships!

18+ I Ninja guys are mind to late twenties I kind of dark!turtles, kind of what I think the toxic aspects of dating them would actually be like. I MDNI I General verses

Leo

This bitch is too cocky to even think you can cheat on him, or fall for someone else. Yet!! He's still a mutant turtle, what if you hang out too much with someone who changes your mind?

You haven't answered in half an hour? Calls you.

Oh, you don't answer? haha, funny

* proceeds to spam*

via text, via calls, via social media

He just has this controlling habit of wanting to know where you are, with whom, and what you're doing.

You hate it, but when you confront him about it, he's always like

:( What do you mean? I'm just worried!

The foot clan's out there, you know?

Passive aggressive, honestly

It's not that he's being possessive! he just wants to make sure you're safe. *coughs * gaslighting * coughs*

He's sore when it doesn't work.

Donatello

Yeah, I don't how to tell you this but, your phone is tapped.

Just as you are about to leave to hang out with your friends, he makes the century's discoverment. It's happening again — "Please stay; it's important!"

Just five more minutes! *263536 hours later he still isn't done showing you *

Tracks your phone (in case of an emergency, of course)

Scoffs at you when you point out he's being possessive

Raphael

Behold, the "I can take you there" man.

Do you need to go to the store? He drives you! Get on the motorbike, enjoy the city lights ;)

You're hanging out with your friends? Don't worry; he'll give you a lift! No? Why not? Hmm, are you really hanging out with your friends?

Well, if he can't take you there, he can pick you up. How's that? :D Really so annoying.

Oh, you're clubbing? Guess what?! He's patrolling just in that same area. Isn't that great? Now he can wait for you to finish and walk you home!

Stalks your Instagram stories knowing he'll probably get angry, and then confronts you about the most random screenshots. Why are you touching this friend on the shoulder in this pic?! >:(

Seriously nerve-wracking.

Mikey

Listen, listen, we gotta give Mikey all the coins!! All the points because he's so subtle you don't even notice he's being possessive until one day you're reflecting and * loud gasp * revelation.

He gives you a bracelet just like his own so you can wear it as a couple! In addition to many other things that are sometimes bought and sometimes handmade, the point is that they are all orange.

And you will say, how is that possessive?

BECAUSE, because, your friends ask, is orange your favorite color? And while it may be yes, it is an opportunity to mention that the color reminds you of your boyfriend.

In short, he gives you or does things that will force you to bring him into conversation with other people.

He is the first to comment on all your photos on social media, "How beautiful my angel!" which is a problem bc now your friends want to meet him * sweats * how the hell are you gonna explain? And what if someone in your group reveals the secret? * anxiety intensifies *

Everyone in your life knows that you have a boyfriend, which is not bad, but sometimes, Instead of his actions feeling genuine, it's more like he just wants everyone to know that you are taken.

[cleolinda]

The Category 4 hurricane, bordering on Category 5 [as of Tuesday Oct. 8], was expected to reach Florida's Gulf Coast between 10 p.m Wednesday and 2 a.m. Thursday, according to the latest forecasts.

“You have time today. Time is running out," Gov. Ron DeSantis told reporters on Tuesday. "But you do have time today to heed any evacuation orders and do what you need to do to protect yourself and our families.”

Sarasota Mayor Liz Alpert said she's confident her constituents understand the consequences of not evacuating. "What everyone has been saying is, you have to evacuate, it is not survivable, to survive a 10- to 15-foot storm surge," Alpert told NBC News on Tuesday. "It just simply isn't."

Mr. Biden said he pre-approved emergency declarations in Florida and had sent FEMA administrator Deanne Criswell to Florida on Monday. He also called on airlines to provide "as much service as possible" and "not engage in price gouging."

Mr. Biden said he had spoken to "all political leaders" in the region, "some of them more than once," and he said he told them "anything they ask for, they can get."

I don’t want to add to people’s anxiety about this if you’re already safe or following the story from afar, but if this kind of warning convinces anyone to evacuate or make sure their loved ones do, it’s worth it. If you want to evacuate now but you don’t know where to go, lists of shelters by county are over here.

More about the predicted path:

It’s also been pointed out that you can travel north OR south—the hurricane is cutting across the state. Ideally you would get out of the path entirely, but any distance from the direct line of impact and/or the coast would help, even a little:

Scroll way, way down for the interactive map, which I have screenshots of below (again, accurate as of midday Tuesday October 8th). The hurricane will weaken as it hits land, but it’s still wildly intense, considering:

I wasn’t online much the week of Helene, or I would have posted then too. But Helene also gave us an idea of how bad things could get, and a baseline for “even worse,” so that’s one of the reasons I’m posting all this now. (I also have the luxury of being in a different state. I’m not someone to worry about.) I’ll look for disaster relief resources and post those when the time comes. I hope people are still helping Asheville and NC, but this is gonna have to be my lane for now.

[yanderes-galore]

Your prompts 5, 14, and 26 with Gojo from JJK, please?

I wanted some diversity in the plots so... Cheater! Gojo manipulating you into staying with him. I have made yandere Gojo worse somehow, you're welcome.

Here's your pathetic ex who can't seem to live without you.

Yandere! Satoru Gojo Prompts 5, 14, 26

"Manipulation? No, dear, I'm just encouraging you!"

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!"

"Look! We're bonding, just the two of us!"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Possessive behavior, Toxic relationship, Cheater! Gojo, Mature themes, Stalking, Delusional behavior, Tension, Dubious affection (possible harassment), Implied stalking, Mind break (?), If you read a certain line right... possible murder, Forced relationship implied.

The grin Satoru Gojo wears around you makes your blood boil. Especially since you know what he's done. You know he's a liar, a liar who loves to string you along like you belong to him.

Truth is, you haven't belonged to him since he decided to touch someone else.

Even when confronted, Satoru just thinks he can lie his way out of it. He always treats you like you can't live without him. He always makes you feel like you're reliant on him.

It felt so good to hurt him when you cut him off, when you took all that power he had over you away from him.

It felt great to watch Satoru's smug expression fall away when he realized he didn't have you. You broke his confidence and left the man begging for you to not leave. He can change! He loves you and wants you safe!

It was just a fling, just a little bit of fun...

All lies.

You moved out and found your way to a friend's place to clear your head. For weeks you had received texts and calls from him. All pleading and begging... all wanting you back.

Satoru had already gotten rid of the person he was toying with to show he loves you. He sent you screenshots of the conversation. He sent you all sorts of things.

Satoru sent you pictures and messages. His pictures varied from him showing how much he missed you to downright lewd images and voicemails. All for you he'd say, like he didn't cheat on you.

Satoru is desperate without you. Of course he craves something he can't have. He ruined things with you... but he can't seem to let it go...

So he'll convince you he still belongs to you... that you still belong to him.

You knew things were bad news the moment you opened the door to your new apartment that your friend hooked you up with. The second the door opened, Satoru is leaning against the frame with flowers and gifts. You go to close the door on his face, but he keeps it open with his foot.

"I just want to talk...!" Satoru pleads, gaze determined. "Please, baby... please let me show you I'm sorry!"

Deciding to humor him, you let your ex in your house. He breathes a sigh of relief, giving a thankful smile as he walks inside. The moment he sits down on your couch, negotiations begin.

"Baby..." Satoru whispers, looking at you as you sit down on the opposite side of him. "They're gone now, I got rid of them. I only belong to you, okay...?"

"We aren't together anymore, Gojo." You saying his last name stings him, your tone of malice. "I don't care if you speak with them or not."

"Come on... you can call me Satoru, I'm your Satoru." Satoru answers, tone pleading. "Let me make it up to you... I'll give you anything."

You watch as Satoru strolls over to you, leaning against the back of your chair. His blue eyes are pleading, desperate... needy. He just couldn't let you go.

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!" Satoru continues making his case, strolling in front of you to stroke your cheek. "I could give you whatever you wanted... I'll be all yours... just take me back and I'll protect and love you...."

You slap his hand away, startling Satoru slightly as you stand up. More lies, more falsehoods to keep you under his control again. You glare at him.

"Don't manipulate me. I know what you're trying to get away with. It isn't happening." You hiss, another wound to Satoru's heart. He doesn't give up, unfortunately.

"Manipulation? No, dear, I'm just encouraging you!" Satoru laughs softly. "Remember how happy we were? I just lost my way... maybe you can... help me find it?"

Satoru's voice deepens to a lovesick murmur as he steps closer to you again. Oh how he's missed you. Oh how he wishes you'd just let him spoil you again like a little pet.

He goes to give you affection, yet you keep your distance. Your hate for him makes him frown. Oh, he needed you...

Why won't you take him back? Don't you love him?

"No way." You growl, Satoru staring at you with need. "We are not getting back together."

"Then at least let me show you I still care..." Satoru weakly smiles, reaching out just enough to pull you into his chest by your shirt. You struggle against him but he's stronger. Your ex presses a delusional kiss to your forehead, blue eyes looking as though they'd devour you.

"I want to make it up to you..." Satoru whispers, moving his kisses to your cheeks. "I want to show you I can't live without you... that we're meant to be partners... that you're meant to love me...."

"Let me go...!" You growl, pushing against his chest. Satoru just looks amused when you do so. He likes your warmth against his skin.

"Nuh uh...!" Satoru teases, falling further into delusion. He plans to drag you with him. "Look! We're bonding, just the two of us!"

"This isn't bonding!" You hiss, causing Satoru to chuckle.

"Not yet~" He purrs, holding you as though you're merely having a tantrum. "Oh, baby... don't you miss me?"Satoru leans close, a devilish grin on his face. "I missed you... no one touched you, did they?"

"That's none of your business-" You counter, only for Satoru to push you onto the couch lightly.

"That's okay, no need to lie, baby... I already know no one has." He grins more, pinning you down. "After all... I can't keep my eyes off what's mine!"

"I'm not-!" You try to say, only for Satoru to cut you off.

"No need to deny it, dear. I can tell you miss this..." Satoru murmurs, looking into your eyes. In a way... yes... what he said was true.

You did miss this... as much as you wished it wasn't true... you missed his touch.

Yet aren't sure if you want to be his again.

"Just let me convince you, baby..." Satoru purrs, voice as soft as velvet as he leans close. "You'll see you need me... I don't need anyone else but you... promise."

With that, Satoru kisses your lips with a hungry force. The kiss is passionate and needy. As though he was a starving man. After some time... you return the gesture.

As much as you hate to admit it...

You're beginning to feel you need him again.

[sophieinwonderland]

Debunking Anti(-endo's)Misinfo. AKA: How are anti-endos so bad at sources????

(The original)

Oh, well good on you for trying to cover everything! Nice of anti-endos to finally start trying to use science to prove their arguments. I'm sure these sources will totally be reliable and will prove your points beyond a shadow of a doubt, and that you won't just be falling flat on your face with every single attempt at basic reading comprehension, and end up repeatedly make a complete fool of yourself.

Let's go!

Off to a pretty strong start, acknowledging that many endogenic systems don't have DID or OSDD. Sadly, that basic fact is something that seems to escape most anti-endos. So with this in mind, I think it's safe to say the goal of this post is going to be to prove...

You can't possibly have DID without trauma.

You can't possibly have OSDD without trauma.

You can't be a system without DID/OSDD.

Let's read through and see how they'll do at proving their points by the end. I promise you, the results... won't surprise you. 😉

Well, there goes that strong start.

The source here is a Carrd and so-called "common sense."

Meanwhile, in the World Health Organization's ICD-11, alters or dissociative identities are described as "distinct personality states." In the same page, it's stated that you can have multiple "distinct personality states" without a disorder.

This is information from the World Health Organization affirming that you can be plural without a disorder. And I think that prevails over your so-called "common sense."

See also these screenshots from the plurality chapter of Transgender Mental Health, a book published by the American Psychiatric Association:

Finally, I really want to put a focus on this line of logic: "you cannot have alters without having a disorder, this is common sense as it's not normal to have alters."

Normal has multiple meanings in different contexts. The ICD-11's boundary with normality uses normal to mean "non-pathological." But this post seems to be using "normal" in the lay way to mean "common."

And that makes this particular rhetoric extremely dangerous and harmful to many communities. "If it's not common, it's a mental illness," was the basis for homosexuality and being transgender being listed as mental illnesses. "Most people don't think this way, so there's something wrong with them."

This could also easily be used to pathologize Otherkin and other alterhumans as mentally ill because it's not "normal" to identify as an animal.

The modern World Health Organization and American Psychiatric Association recognize the fact that simply thinking unusually or differently isn't an illness or disorder.

Statements like yours do not exist within a vacuum, but harken back to decades past when any non-typical thinking would have you labeled as having a disorder that needed treated.

Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.

Let's be thankful to live in a world today where our differences aren't considered disorders. And let's not resort to ideologies that threaten to return us to those days past.

Wait... who suggests this? Who are they? I think I need more info...

So... "some researchers."

Also, can we talk about how this starts off with "sometimes called multiple personality disorder." I checked to see if this was before the name changed in the ICD (which I believe was 2015) and it doesn't seem to be! Oldest archive I can find is 2020!

Rethink.org is a charity.

These are not peer-reviewed papers.

The page references "some researchers" without names or sources.

I have no idea who authored this or if they're qualified at all in this field.

This is a terrible source. A web page by an anonymous author citing other unnamed authors with no reason to think anyone who wrote this had any idea what they were talking about!

This says DID is caused by many things, and lists trauma as only one that's included. This doesn't back up the idea DID/OSDD can only be caused by trauma, and suggests the opposite.

Oh, and "it's also known as split personality disorder." 😔

Go home WebMD.

Usually associated with doesn't mean it's a requirement, and in fact implies that it isn't always.

"Is associated with." "Can be a response to trauma."

Reiterating that the first two goals here were to prove you can't have DID or OSDD without trauma. And these aren't doing that.

An association doesn't mean there's a causation, and it doesn't mean that association is there in 100% of cases.

"often develop."

Like with "usually", you wouldn't use the word often if if something always happened. The choice of wording implies you can have dissociative disorders without trauma.

Are... they messing with us right now???

I swear, you can't have a post that sets out with the goal of disproving the existence of endogenic plurality, and then use quotes that seem to consistently imply there can be other causes for DID and not pick up on that theme!

Oh, yay! We finally got a quote that's actually trying to argue the point we started with.

But, again, this runs into a similar issue to the ReThink.org one. This is a random independent organization. There is no author for this article. It hasn't undergone peer review like an academic paper would.

There is no evidence the person who wrote this article is actually educated in dissociative disorders.

And finally back to "usually."

You must be so proud...

Source Round-Up

There was a lot here, so let's just recap.

6 out of 8 of these sources only say that DID is "usually" or "often" or "can be" caused by or associated with trauma. These actually imply there are cases where it's NOT caused by trauma, going against the original goals of this post.

Finally, there were two sources, Rethink and Mind.org, which did suggest DID is just caused by trauma, full stop. But both of these are extremely questionable as sources.

Neither named their authors. There's no indication what the review process is for their websites. And "Rethink" merely said this is what "some researchers" believe.

So let's double back to those goals set at the beginning.

You can't possibly have DID without trauma: One source says this, but the reliability of that source is questionable. Another source says some researchers are saying this but doesn't name any researchers or cite those sources. Meanwhile, the other six sources imply that it IS possible for DID to exist without trauma.

You can't possibly have OSDD without trauma: Neither of the two sources that suggest DID can only be caused by trauma mention OSDD at all.

You can't be a system without DID/OSDD: None of the sources suggest you need DID/OSDD to be a system or to be plural.

So far, you've failed to prove you can't be a system without DID or OSDD. You've failed to show you can't have OSDD without trauma. And the case for DID being exclusive to trauma frankly looks weaker than before you started talking.

Incredible work so far!!!

And I mean that in the way that nothing about this is remotely credible!

Ugh. There is SO much wrong here. First, no sources for their claims about tulpamancy.

Now, tulpamancy draws its name from a Tibetan Buddhist practice called sprul pa.

This is not the same practice though. And the Tibetan Buddhist practice is NOT CALLED TULPAMANCY.

Something which should be obvious to anyone who knows even the most basic facts about language, with the -mancy suffix being derived from Latin. And tulpamancy as a practice generally isn't religious.

From Dr. Samuel Veissiere of McGill University:

The community is primarily divided between so-called psychological and metaphysical explanatory principles. In the psychological community, neuroscience (or folk neuroscience) is the explanation of choice. Tulpas are understood as mental constructs that have achieved sentience. The metaphysical explanation holds that Tulpas are agents of supernatural origins that exist outside the hosts’ minds, and who come to communicate with them. Of 118 respondents queried on the question, 76.5% identified with the psychological explanation, 8.5% with the metaphysical, and 14% with a variety of “other” explanations, such as a mixture of psychological and metaphysical.

When discussing the research into tulpamancy, we're not discussing a religious or spiritual practice that's been validated by psychologists.

We're talking about a primarily psychological practice that's been validated by psychologists.

And as for the DSM quote, it confirms that religious practices aren't a disorder. Cool. But it also implies that religious practices can result in multiple distinct personality states. Hence why they needed that criterion. It's not stated as explicitly in the DSM as in the ICD, but the implication is there, especially when taken together.

Whether you call these "alters" or not is up to you. Most endogenic systems aren't using the word "alter" to describe their headmates.

But regardless of the word, what the research is showing is that there are multiple phenomena which can result in people having multiple self-conscious agents sharing the same body.

I mean, you've still done a really bad job at showing DID and OSDD form purely from trauma, with many of your sources straight up saying the opposite.

And remember, a lot of mixed origin systems will say that their other headmates aren't caused by or related to their disorder. And there are documented cases of people with DID both having alters associated with DID, and having non-aversive entities they commune with outside of that, as Kluft references in this paper:

The woman he describes here, who experienced ceding control to another entity who talked through her, would qualify as a mixed origin system in the modern plural community.

SIX OF YOUR EIGHT SOURCES LEFT THE DOOR OPEN FOR DID TO FORM WITHOUT TRAUMA!

NONE CLAIMED OSDD COULD ONLY COME FROM TRAUMA!

NONE CLAIMED YOU NEEDED DID OR OSDD TO BE PLURAL!

Your sources are NOT claiming what you think they're claiming!!!!!!!

If this is "all the proof you need," to say endogenic systems aren't valid, it's clear you were only ever interested in confirming your worldview.

But surely you can't seriously think this will convince anyone who isn't already indoctrinated!

Not even addressing this in full. It's such a blatant strawman that it's not worth my time.

There are similarities between plurality and being LGBTQ. Especially to the many trans systems out there who are seeing anti-endos use the same rhetoric that transmeds have. Or like you did earlier, are endorsing the same types of views that led to homosexuality being pathologized until the 70s. But nobody is saying it's the exactly the same!

I'm not sure what this is specifically referring to. But it might be about the line in the differential diagnosis for DID in the PTSD section where it's stated DID may not be preceded by trauma or have co-occurring PTSD symptoms.

It does also say in another section that DID is associated with trauma, but it never actually says that's the only way to get DID.

This is a straight-up lie. Most sources used by endogenic systems are less than a decade old, with some being as recent as 2023.

Here's the breakdown of some of the dates in @guardianssystem's doc, for reference:

I mean, I feel like part of the reason nobody has been able to disprove it is because a lot of its more specific claims have been really hard to test.

But that's neither here nor there.

The bigger issue you'll run into is that the creators of the theory you're citing have stated that there may be other ways for people to be plural. Or as they phrased it, having "conscious and self-conscious dissociated parts."

The above quote is from two of the three authors of The Haunted Self, the creators of the theory of the structural dissociation.

The TOSD is made to propose a way trauma can cause dissociative disorders to develop. But it does NOT suggest you need to have dissociative disorders to be plural, and I doubt the authors appreciated their work being twisted like that

Final Grade:

F-

This started with three goals.

Let's look back at them one last time.

You can't possibly have DID without trauma.

You can't possibly have OSDD without trauma.

You can't be a system without DID/OSDD.

By the end of this, have any of these claims successfully been proven?

I don't feel they have.

The first claim is what all the sources tried to focus on. But most of the sources didn't say that and didn't support it. All but two implied that DID could possibly form other ways.

And for the others? Nothing suggests OSDD can only be caused by trauma.

And you failed to provide any sources that suggested you couldn't be plural without DID and OSDD.

You completely and utterly failed to find decent sources to back up your claims, and to make a compelling case for them, at every conceivable juncture.

If I were you, I would be embarrassed to have put out something of such poor quality.

What have we learned:

Non-disordered and endogenic plurality has been supported and validated across the psychological field, including the World Health Organization's ICD-11 and Trasngender Mental Health which has been reviewed and published by the American Psychiatric Association.

The creators of the theory of structural dissociation believe it might be possible that "self-conscious dissociative parts of the personality" might form without trauma and that this needs to be further researched.

Tulpamancy is a mostly psychological practice that has been studied and validated by psychologists.

Anti-endos are really bad at sources.

Conversely, the majority of endogenic sources are actual peer reviewed academic papers. And contrary to false claims here, many of the papers are actually very recent.

(Tagging some tags from the original post)

[hivemuthur]

Wait Ten Seconds

Okay, a tiny little break from Viktor, as I present you a request for my awesome friend, @aristenfromwarsaw! Thank you for having faith in me to write this, heh. Also, this is my fav screenshot of Astarion and Aristen, her Durge, just look at them :')

spawn!Astarionxfemale!redeemed!DU (fandom: BG3), explicit!

word count: 2,5K

summary: set in act III, after defeating Cazador and Orin. Not specified, but I can imagine them having a date before the doomed day of confronting the absolute and chilling somewhere in Rivington, away from people and the rest of the team :')

author's note: so nervous about publishing this, that I forgot to mention the undeniable blessing by my smut fairy, @rennethen, thank you!

—

She was fidgeting, to the point of Astarion wincing as he brought the wine and plopped down next to her on the blanket. The closer they were to their final goal, the more layers were peeled back, revealing the truth underneath. And Aristen’s truth lay very close to Astarion’s. The parallels were almost uncanny—two powerful creatures, made and shaped by another, more powerful, to be stripped of will and judgment and commit crimes nearly beyond redemption. Both beautiful, nearly deadly so. Both now free, though at a horrific price that included a lot of death, and their friends close to bleeding out.

And Astarion knew. He knew what it was like to swat away that extended hand, the one that carried a promise of eternal power and greatness without limitations. He knew how hard it had been for him when he held his dagger over Cazador’s head, his eyes darting to all his friends, who froze in fear of what he was going to do next. Their questioning faces, minds grinding gears, silently pleading with him not to do it. So he didn’t. And a mixture of relief and grief washed over him as they walked back through the corridors of the musky dungeon, their shirts soaked in blood, grime, and the dusty remnants of undead bodies. The stench was unbearable, nearly as bad as in the temple of Bhaal.

But after that came true reprieve. And suddenly, the price of his freedom felt small. Who needed the sun when he could have her? So he confessed his love and giddiness, and Aristen accepted it—all of it. Living under the stars and figuring out what would come next. If, of course, they survived the Netherbrain.

She kept fisting the blanket and biting the inside of her cheek. So he waited ten seconds before being an absolute freak and licking her face to snap her out of it.

“Wha— Why are you being gross?” She blinked, wiping the spit off her face with the top of her hand. But there was a smile, and Astarion sighed, relieved that such a thing could still take place.

“Copper piece for your thoughts?” he asked, passing her a carafe of Amnian Dessert. She took it wordlessly, their fingers brushing, and Astarion winced at the warmth of her skin. She gulped down three sips and forced herself not to burp.

“I… I feel you already know what I’m thinking about,” she said, offering him a sad smile.

“Humour me. Consider me a half-wit that needs everything spelled out for him.” His hands travelled up her knees to her hips, pulling her to slot between his spread legs. Once a safe space was created between them, Astarion tilted the bottle to her lips, pouring some of the wine down her throat.

She chuckled and shot him a look. “You don’t have to get me drunk if you want something, you know that, right?”

A drop of red streaked from the corner of her mouth, sliding down the side of her throat, and Astarion kissed it away. He purred at the rhythm of her heart, beating for the both of them, before nuzzling his nose into the crook of her shoulder.

“Hmm, I know that. But for this particular something, I feel you might need some liquid courage,” he murmured, entwining his fingers at the small of her back. “What is bothering you, my love?”

“Sometimes… I pray for the Netherbrain to win, so I don’t have to… remember,” she whispered into the silver of his hair, the words bitter on her tongue.

Astarion shifted. His eyes shot up to meet hers, and his hands cupped her neck. Again, with the drumming of that heart. He pressed his thumbs into her larynx, gently, a warning. He gritted his teeth, words balancing on the scale in his head, and asked, “What is more? Love or self-loathing?”

“What?” she croaked, her brows furrowing.

“Which do you feel stronger? The love or the hate?” Astarion’s voice was firm, as though he needed to insist. “And why, of all people, would you be the one beyond redemption?” He waited another ten seconds. No response came, only blinking.

“You get to start over. To be the person you want to be—not what someone else made you to be,” he whispered, his tone dipping dangerously low. Not sultry. It was the same tone he used when he was being honest. The same tone he used when he tried to wince away from an attempt to bite her, all those months back. “As do I. And I want to start over with you. Do you?”

“Oh gods, you know I do,” Aristen breathed finally, her voice inevitably cracking, tears pushing their way through the corners of her eyes. “What if I am, though? Beyond redemption?”

“Am I?” As usual, a precise shot. A rogue instinct took over, and Astarion planted his trap skilfully. He intended to wait another ten seconds, but she was faster.

“No, of course not.” Her warm hands were on his cheeks so fast, thumbs rubbing into the hollows of them, and if Astarion could flush, he would have. He shifted closer, caging her in.

“Then why would you be?” Seeing a thought forming, words already dripping off her tongue, he placed his fingers on her lips. “I will talk, and you will listen. You're no monster. You’ve saved me more times than I can count—” a sound from between his fingers cut him off.

Astarion shifted again, letting a single "but" slip away from her. He wrapped one hand around her waist, while the free palm moved to cover her mouth completely. “You will listen to me now.”

He waited ten seconds, and Aristen nodded, her eyes glued to his. His hand slid to cup her neck instead, their foreheads touching. Cold breath fanned her face as he spoke.

“I come from a life I cannot remember, which in itself proves how unremarkable it was. That life ended, and another began, and that one I remember very well. I remember every torture, every rat I was given, every slap, and every lover I led to their death. And it’s all very harrowing—the way it reminds me I do have a soul,” he confessed on a fabricated breath.

“And then you come. And you undo it all, piece by painful piece. Two centuries of pure shit. In a span of time that is merely a glimpse compared to two hundred years, you manage to defy a god, defeat my jailor, and yet you sit here crying—I wish you would stop; it’s utterly distracting,” he murmured, wiping the tears from her cheek. She allowed a hiccupped chuckle to escape her throat.

“Nothing ever gets undone, not entirely. But we get to rebuild ourselves from the rubble. So I ask again—what is more?” Astarion waited one second. Less than one second.

“Love. Love is more,” she said, nodding, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gave him a kiss full of salt. “Love me,” she pleaded, her hands fisting the frills of his collar, fingers ghosting over the two puncture marks on his neck, and Astarion’s unfabricated breath hitched.

“I do. With all of my eternal undead heart, I do,” he murmured against her lips, his fangs dangerously close to the tender flesh of red, but he was careful. Mouths touched, his tongue doing most of the work—licking, fighting hers for dominance. His hands had already travelled under her skirts, working to rid her of an offensive pair of breeches. He swung her legs to one side to slide them off, fumbling at her ankles as she tried to help but only caused more trouble than if she hadn’t.

While Astarion fumbled with those, she began unlacing his trousers, her breath stuttering at the coolness of his skin. Every inch of Astarion was so beautiful and she had it all memorized so well, she didn’t have to look, but she did, always, nevertheless. And Astarion remembered her as well, but he wasn’t looking. Too busy leaving open-mouthed kisses all the way up her legs, one of his fangs catching on the lace of her skirts in a rush.

Aristen couldn’t help a chuckle, having done her part of undressing him as she pulled him closer by the laces of his pants, now hanging loosely from his fly.

“First she cries, then she laughs me out, the audacity,” he rasped, placing his hands on either side of her waist and meeting her in a kiss. Deep and unhurried, Astarion let his tongue slip between her lips once again, as his hands travelled up her ribcage to cup her breasts through the material

Aristen let out a gasp and quickly unbuttoned her shirt, welcoming his cool touch against the heat of a summer night. Astarion growled at the motion and splayed himself flat on top of her, hooking one of her legs with his knee. The kissing deepened, and soon his mouth travelled with no particular destination, sucking on the pulse point below her ear, ghosting over her collarbone and flicking at each of her nipples.

He pulled himself up to cage her in, gently tracing her jaw and cupping her cheek. Another kiss lasting ten seconds, all tongue and as little teeth as Astarion could do, emotion seeping from it. When his lips left hers, it was only so his mouth could travel to her jaw, throat and sternum. His hands cupped her breasts, and oh, the weight of them, the softness, felt so sweet against his cool skin.

Astarion was very good with both—the words and the body. It was all very much rehearsed and carefully constructed into a self, that would shield his other self from showing. But with Aristen, his other self was slowly crawling out, so he let it. He let himself be desperate and wanting, to meet her unsure, wounded self. As equals.

His thumbs brushed her nipples, causing her spine to arch into the touch. “So needy,” Astarion teased, spitting on one of her breasts to ease the friction and pressing his mouth to the other. The contrast between the callouses of his thumb and softness of his lips made parts of her clench on nothing. She tugged on his hair, scraping his scalp and Astarion hummed into her skin.

The hum evolved into a chuckle, once Aristen released a muffled whimper and it only got worse for her. His lips travelled to the other side, leaving her skin glistening with his spit and exposed. She could feel featherlight kisses being placed all the way from her nipple, down, down to her ribcage, stomach, hip bone, until his mouth reached the crease of her thigh. And there, Astarion waited ten seconds.

Mouth hovering over her core, breath fanning, nose smelling. Then, a kiss, and she gasped. And then, finally, his lips closed around her, tongue teasing, licking into her slit. A gentle suck, to make her breath stutter, only to release her with a wet pop and Aristen whined.

With a ghost of a smile, Astarion’s mouth went back to roam up and down her rib cage, hands trailed down her sides to rest in the creases of her thighs. He then pulled away to sit on the balls of his heels and seeing the look on her face, he just said, “Patience, my love.”

He picked up her leg by the foot and placed a soft kiss at the flat of her ankle. Then, an agonizing lick to her pulse point. And agonizing for both of them, Astarion could add. Then, hot fast kisses all the way down her calf, her thigh, to finally splay himself flat between her legs.

Their eyes locked as he gave her cunt a reverent kiss. Both obscene and loving, as he stared into her soul and Aristen chuckled, trying to chase the flush away from her cheeks.

He licked against her clit, and feeling her body jerk he splayed a flat palm on her stomach to pin her down, the other arm wrapped around her thigh. Working her slowly until her sweet scent filled his nostrils, Astarion slid his fingers down her belly and teased her entrance. Once inside, he curled them, and Aristen moaned, her neck tensing, throat exposed.

Feeling her closing in on her climax, he made a switch. Mouth travelled down to fuck her with his tongue, thumb spreading her slick around the clit. And if this was his last meal, he would die fed. He would also die deaf, as her thighs closed in around his ears, her body tensing and flexing, fingers curling in his hair desperately. Her heels dug into his shoulder blades, and she felt her soul leaving her body, travelling straight into Astarion’s mouth, her voice echoing in the night around them.

Astarion waited ten seconds, just to watch her. To watch her chest rising and falling, to watch her eyes gloss over him, over his cock hanging free, painfully hard. He gave himself a few slow strokes, spreading precum from the tip to the root. Then, he shifted to all fours, reaching out for her hand to guide it between his legs. A warm hand replaced the cold one as she rubbed his tip with her thumb before flicking her wrist down to a long stroke against his length.

“No one touches me like you touch me,” he murmured against her mouth. “Take me and keep me forever,” Astarion said, meaning Take me and love me forever.

“Only if you take me and keep me forever,” she replied, her voice already fucked-out, bedroom eyes staring back into his. With that answer, he removed her hand, kissed her knuckles in gratitude and placed his hips between her legs. He rubbed his cock against her wetness to coat himself in her slick before teasing the entrance. The first few thrusts were shallow and Astarion glued his eyes to her face, watching her mouth fall open wider and wider, before sinking fully inside.

Once buried up to the hilt, he begun to thrust slowly and deeply into her. His movements were unhurried, his pubic bone pressing on her clit, rebuilding the pressure within her. His arms wrapped around her, chests pressed together, mouths touching, exchanging breaths. Her legs encircled his waist to seal the bond. Rocking their bodies toward completion, Astarion whispered, “I love all of you.”

She mouthed his name back to him, voice lost in her throat, as her walls clenched around him, and they reached the peak together. Bodies shook, fingers dug into flesh. He spilled himself inside her, head falling into the crook of her neck. And Astarion waited ten seconds, and then another ten seconds, and another, before sleep took both of them over, entangled, connected by their cores, and their hearts.

[lightofraye]

Hi there!

As I asked and you answered, cropped your name out. It is a bit of a controversial ask--not to me, but it may be to others--so yeah… definitely keeping your name safe.

I'm actually honored you chose to stop at my blog. I'm not sure how it ended up under the main Jensen tags so I'm intrigued. Thanks to 'touchy' Jensen fans and knowing I am not an anti, I had to create custom tags to talk about him. Maybe in a reblog somewhere it caught your attention. So… thank you.

I'll bet the videos were triggering! Every time I watch Danneel with Jensen, I have to take breaks to preserve my emotional state, she's so toxic. That others are praising her, laughing at Jensen's distress, thinking he needs to be taken down… gods.

RE: His role as Dean. I think it's because it was his longest role, so there's that. Plus, he's said that Dean is the more exaggerated part of him. I disagree with Jensen there. I honestly think he took on more of Dean's persona to cope with… well… everything. But yes, his fans frequently see him as Dean first, Jensen last. Troubling, to be honest.

I think Jensen goes through phases. His initial years as a model and then transitioning into Eric Brady, other television roles, he had a very different fashion sense. During his time as Dean, he largely took on Dean's wardrobe as well. Then during his, as I call it, Beau phase (from his time as Beau Arlen), Jensen leaned toward that fashion taste.

Now he seems largely… neutral, almost monochrome. Another phase? Choosing to play it safe as stans seem to never just accept him as is? No idea.

I agree! Danneel choosing to do it THIS way? Misha choosing to do it THIS way? And a month after it happened? Not during? Not spotlighting all the gofundmes? Not silently donating to them like Jensen did with one? Come on!

And yes! I kept watching her with those scissors and going "What. The. Fuck?" What if she slipped and cut herself? Or Arrow? My heart.

Yep. Danneel doesn't want to waste time with her kids. She never does. And yeah… she could've used that MLK thing JJ did as an excellent time to educate. But nooooo….. Sigh. Huge facepalm.

Not sure why the whiteboard. Brainstorming? That's my guess. And yeah. Couldn't ask Jensen. Just drag him into it, wreck his shirt, come up with an ugly shirt design….

I imagine you noticed that the video cut off just as Arrow asked that. Danneel knew Jensen wasn't okay. Just a bad video editor and showed those who were paying attention the real bad behind the scenes.

Arrow seems very perceptive, yes. And I imagine JJ knows. And Zeppelin. All three know. And it's not a good "know".

She did, by the way, eventually show the shirt. Well, no, not HER exactly. It's on the auction site and it is ugly. Just… god. Arrow's shirt was better done and so sweet.

No worries on the rant! You've expressed very similar feelings a lot of us are feeling!

I appreciate--but also feel saddened--your caveat. You came to this conclusion on your own, not me or anyone else force-feeding it to you. (Which I would never, but you know.)

Before I add the last screenshot of your ask, I'm placing a strong caution for my follows and mutuals. What follows is the feelings and beliefs of this person, this asker. They are a Person of Color and therefore their feelings and stances and experiences will be different than ours--or yours. I will respect their feelings, their thoughts. They are just as valid as ours.

Now to the rest.

Yeah, Misha is a queerbaiter, and sadly known for racist, controversial takes and slurs. Once I discovered all that, I stopped being his fan. I understand not caring for Danneel or Jensen due to the celebrity stuff. (Boy, do I.) As for Jared… I understand that point of view. I respect it. I may not wholly agree and believe the statement about Black Lives Matter was more of a misspeak. As for the tattoo… I believe it's more about Texas pride (despite Texas's bad history). But! As I said earlier… it's your feelings, they are valid, and I would never presume to speak over or tell you to get over it or….

As for the last bit about Jensen: I hope he does too. Narcissism, abuse (be it physical and/or mental and/or…) can be dangerous, deadly, even to one's self. It doesn't have to come from the abuser. The ways to cope, the way it can destroy a person's spirit…. It's bad.

Thank you for your ask. I didn't take it as a rant so much as seeking an empathetic ear.

[lunarw0rks]

I would like to request 141 and Konig noticing that they needed something from the reader (presence, hearing the voice, something the reader gave them) to calm down and they notice they are in love with the reader and they're just "I'm fcked". If it was too vague you don't need to do it, thank you and be safe

 ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡°⋆࿓ Needing You // 141 headcanons (+ k)

『♡』 masterlist ♡ rules ♡ ask box Warning(s): none, sfw + gn!reader Word Count: 641. A/N: might start answering requests in this shorter "drabble" format. It takes a lot less time on my end, and I think it looks better :)

SYNOPSIS; he realizes he needs you; a.k.a head over heels in love with you. ˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

price realizes when he feels his exterior soften. sure, he's still the same on the battlefield. but, even at work, when there aren't bullets plummeting toward him — you've gotten to him. he'll take the teases of his coworkers, all of it, only because you're there.

price is no less professional, no less of a leader, but even the most clueless on his team noticed how much... lighter he seemed. less tension in his shoulders, no more evenings with a half-empty body to cradle until he passes out.

he would never the subtle changes unless someone pointed it out (if they dared). you, with him, strong in the areas where he's weak. that's what a man like john needs.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

simon realizes when he can't fight himself anymore. when he stumbled his way up the stairs after an exhausting mission, ripped his mask off his head, and wanted nothing but you. your touch, your scent, your roaming fingers, the whispers of comfort you provide him.

the mattress creaks under his dead weight as he settles into his side of the bed, wrapping both arms around your torso, gripping on like you were his lifeline.

in a literal sense, you were. you were the reason simon fought so hard to get home. he couldn't restrict himself anymore. once, it was him convinced he would poison you with his past, and now he only cared that you were a part of his future.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

soap realizes when you've become a drug. him, wrapped around your finger so tight he'll never let go. once he falls — he falls hard. it's a bad habit of johnny's. but with you, this run is different. you understand him... or try to, and that's enough to make him sink to his knees in worship of you.

anything you need; it's yours. something material, something verbal, something subtle, something from himself. he'll have moments where he gains awareness of just how far he will go for you, yet he wouldn't change a second of it.

you stuck around this long for a reason, right? besides, he never learns his lessons, nor does he give up. he's your rock and that's how a man like soap wants it.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

gaz realizes when he spends every waking moment wanting to talk to you. for a man so content with his own solitude, it's a striking contrast to who he was before he met you. video calls, text paragraphs, even letters if he's deserted enough on deployment.

[password locked for safety, of course] he has countless screenshots on his personal cell. sometimes they're of you half-asleep on call, a smile he caught in time, others are blurry because you were in the middle of moving.

his letters are an array of entertainment written just for you. sights he saw across the world, a joke he heard, what he wants to do with you when he's home — all a distraction from the warfare surrounding him as the ink glides across the paper.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

könig realizes when you consume his thoughts. he's focused, driven, a calamitous workaholic, even. not for long, though. his work is still a heavy portion of who he is, and that's how he wants it to be. there's no way you'll ever be the highest priority — but you'll be the closest thing to it he can manage.

he finds himself searching for you first, no matter the situation. even when everything is in order, his eyes are glued to you. if he's occupied, you'll always get that voiceless nod from him, as his gaze wanders.

könig's touches become less about intimacy and more a reassurance to himself that you're still his.

————— ୨୧ ————— divider cred. - cafekitsune

[shiny-jr]

how to steal a heart (I)

[ a dummy's guide on how to steal the heart of a poor pathetic man ]

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Female reader. 

- Note: This has been an idea (heavily inspired by Howl's Moving Castle) I had in my docs since fall 2022. I was talking to a mutual about how writing on Tumblr vs Quotev feels very different. If I leave something unfinished on Quotev, I feel incredibly guilty which prevents me from posting new stories. However, on Tumblr, I don't feel as guilty. Not sure why. Anyways, I know most of my followers here don't care for my ocs, and I've been wanting to post this for so long. So instead of posting on Quotev, I'll post it on here just to get rid of the urge to share this story (might delete this later). This is the same story I posted that little screenshot of not too long ago, and that screenshot was basically just the prologue chapter. So yeah. Hope you enjoy?

IN WHICH THERE IS A SEAMSTRESS . . .

Black smoke concealed the window like a thick veil as the walls around her shook. It was a sure sign that the train was inching by. The screech from its whistle and clanking against the railroad tracks, so loud that it must’ve been heard over a mile away, only confirmed her guess. Her hands continued to cut smoothly through the linen fabric, separating enough to fulfill another order placed this morning. As the young woman worked to separate the colors and gather more material, the corner of her eyes caught sight of the smoke concealing her perfect view. 

The train’s fading motion and clanging against the tracks was eventually replaced by chatter just outside her workshop. It all became background noise, as she began to utilize the sewing machine. Lines formed over the cloth, blending it and connecting so they formed an article of clothing. Needles, pins, and scissors cut and dug deep through the cloth. Buttons of all shapes and sizes were neatly organized in little boxes, so she could easily take what she needed. Time just seemed to fly as she worked so quietly and efficiently, oblivious to the hours ticking by. Any other noise fell on deaf ears, even as a knock resounded on the firm wooden door that happened to be wide open already. 

A pause before the person tried again, knocking a little louder again. “(Y/n)?” 

Snapping out of her efficient trance, the tailor snapped to attention and straightened her sitting posture. Gazing at the door and back the window where the sun was much lower than before, it took her a moment to figure out what exactly was going on and what time it was. It was later in the day, and the woman at the door was Dalena… Well, everyone called her Ma Dalena because she was a kind older lady who tended to see the young female tailors as her own children. At least, most of the tailors. 

“We closed up five minutes ago. You can go now.” Ma Dalena gave an encouraging smile that displayed the dimples on her skin, showing signs of age evident by the wrinkles. Judging by her long dress and small woven handbag hanging from her wrist, it was probably safe to assume that she had evening plans. “Why not spend the rest of the day with us?” 

Us. Correct she was again. As welcoming as the invitation was to join Ma Dalena and the other tailors, she wasn’t willing to join them anymore. Not after the first time when she dared to venture with them. After shifts, the tailors had a tradition of going out into town. Not that it was a bad thing. But they used their time cafe hopping, searching for flirtatious men to satisfy their need for affection. Oftentimes, they would get caught up with the pushy kind. And ever since some troops from the military have returned from their duties, well… encountering a bunch of men who hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in months, was not ideal. At least for her. 

Taking her foot off the pedal to pause her work and silence the sewing machine, she pretended to consider the invitation before mustering a polite smile with a shake of her head. “Hm… It sounds nice. But I promised the client I would finish this so they can pick it up tomorrow. So I’ll stay, but have fun. Have another drink in my place, alright?” 

Ma Dalena merely nodded in understanding, her polite smile turning somber as she turned on her two-inch heels and began walking to the front entrance. The chatter of the other tailors ready and eager for the rest of the day off, went quiet as she announced, “We’re leaving now. Hurry now if you’re coming!” 

The chatter resumed, accompanied by the sound of more heels tapping quickly against the wooden floors in an effort for the straying members to catch up with the group. They complimented each other's outfits they spent days making by hand, discussing various fashion trends, gossiping about clients and others in town. 

In a way, she did and she didn’t regret accepting the invitation. It may have been nice to have good company for once, but it never felt right when she was present within their clique. It was as if she were trying to forcefully add a puzzle piece to an already complete puzzle, which is why she stopped forcing it. She wouldn’t want to sit there awkwardly during tea, unsure what to say as they spoke so confidently and loudly. It felt as if she were an imposter, someone trying to disguise themselves to blend in. It was why she worked in a small separate room, away from everyone else. That, and because she was the fastest tailor there. Part of her wondered if Ma Dalena was beginning to dislike her since she turned down invitation after invitation. But how was she to explain what she was feeling, when it would only sound like whining? 

Drowning out her thoughts with work to occupy the space in her mind, she pressed her foot against the pedal and began sewing once more. The loud hum of the machine filled her ears as it worked against the red cloth under her fingertips. This was the way it was supposed to be. Mindlessly spending her waking hours working at a craft she didn’t excel at, but was decent enough to earn wages in. All while wondering what could’ve been, and secretly hoping that maybe soon there is something that can be–– 

“Look! Look out there! It’s Reyes’ temple!” 

“Reyes?!”

“Where? I don’t see it!” 

“There! Over the hill!” 

Now that was something you don’t see everyday. Everyone retreated back to the window, desperate to catch a glimpse, even Ma Dalena. Halting her work once again, (Y/n) too was the tiniest bit curious. 

In truth, magicians failed to interest her, not that she had an opportunity to see them much anyways. But all those in Etére knew to be cautious of two particular magic wielders: La Bruja de Bruez, the Witch of Bruez, and Reyes Ladrón de Corazones, Reyes the Thief of Hearts. The pair were like the local boogeymen, tales of their horrendous deeds spreading and becoming bedtime stories for children in order to scare them into good behavior. 

Ever since her youth, she heard stories of La Bruja de Bruez. It was said that she was a wicked woman who’s lived for over a hundred years. A slight against her is taken seriously, and she curses those she comes across. But she was no mere fairytale. The witch has been a thorn in the country’s side for a long time, as she terrorizes the towns she visits. There hasn’t been much action taken against her, because she’s so powerful that hardly anyone stands a chance and she’s so elusive. Besides, the royal family don’t particularly care if the witch curses a random citizen every month or so, as long as they don’t have to risk pawns in their own arsenal of magicians just to take her down. 

Only a few years ago, a second magician with fearsome spells and a horrible reputation, appeared. Reyes Ladrón de Corazones, or more commonly known as Reyes, was another brujo many feared, although not as much as his counterpart from Bruez. There were rumors, yes, but they were more lighthearted with little evidence to ever back up the claims. While the Bruja de Bruez spared no one, it was said that Reyes chose to pursue only young beautiful women. If you asked around town, half of the population would consider him a threat, while the other half would giggle and whisper about his rumored good looks. Maybe that’s how he lured them in? With charms. Either way, he was a cause for concern. It was said that at a young age after abandoning his position as apprentice under the royal sorceress, the most powerful known magician, he not only challenged her but won and stripped her of her powers. Of course, no one can neither confirm nor deny it, as the king kept a tight lid on the situation and supposedly those who approach Reyes meet a terrible fate. But his abode was proof enough of his sheer strength. It was like a castle, a temple wandering on mechanical legs, rumored to not only be fueled by magic but also made of it.

Through the mist and low hanging clouds, just over the rolling hills on the horizon she could make out the distinct shape of a temple. A magnificent temple that appears so small from so far away. But she knew that it was a beast, a titan wandering the wilderness where very few dared to venture. It prowled around on its mechanical legs, spewing black smoke as the only trail it left behind. Reyes’ moving temple disappeared behind the clouds, seemingly vanishing from sight. Onlookers within the tailor shop could only awe and wonder aloud what the brujo was like, what was true and what was not, their minds creating horrible fears and outlandish fantasies that would take root as rumors. 

Lowering her gaze back to her work, she resumed once more, but the rumors overpowered the hum of her machine until their words reached her. The other tailors proceeded back to the front entrance, marveling about what they just witnessed. Was he hiding from soldiers practicing their flights just outside the town? Did you hear that he literally steals the hearts of women, but only beautiful ones? Someone said that a pretty waitress on the other side of town had her own heart torn out and stolen by Reyes just last week! 

The door was shut and she was alone, left with her work and the noise outside. Swiftly she worked, able to repair tears and wears with ease and create other things. Able to get lost in the work for much longer, until she felt the ground shake and the screech of another whistle. The afternoon train. It’s smoke covering her window once again. It was getting late already. Not wishing to waste the rest of the day by continuing work or go to bed with a book she had already read twice, she switched off the machine and organized all the tools back into their places. Brushing off all stray strings from her dress, she then rearranged her completed work thus far and prepared to have a different kind of day. 

Today, she would try to make it a can be sort of day. Even if it meant just visiting a close friend like Lía at the bakery. Just putting out the effort to go out today was more than she was usually willing. Although wishing it would be something special, a proper can be day without even trying, was like wishing to be acknowledged by a person you admire but never once talked to, it was much like winging it on a test without studying and praying you would get a perfect score even though knowing that it’s almost near impossible. But it isn’t statistically completely impossible, so you cling to that thin shred of hope that’s as taut as a piece of string. 

The whirring of small planes buzzed overhead, the flying machines brandishing their flags like the proud and numerous soldiers. On nearly every home and business, there was the flag hanging over the door, a symbol of patriotism and support of the war effort. (Y/n) quickly crossed the streets and reached the trolley station that would take her further into town. Right now there was not a soldier in sight, but that was sure to change the closer to the center of town she got. She only prayed that there wouldn’t be any trouble with them. 

The trolleys were full, people all going towards the center of town, in the same direction the planes overhead flew towards. If she had to guess, most of the people within the trolley were likely friends or family of returning soldiers. All giddy from the victory high of a major battle just won. 

While watching the scenery go by, she wondered how Lía was fairing. 

It was because of Lía and her family that she now worked in a tailor shop. (Y/n)’s parents had met an unfortunate end while traveling outside the kingdom. They were doctors dedicated to a good cause, determined to stay in dangerous war torn lands to heal and treat the poorest of folks. While she was busy with school and often alone but checked on by family friends, her parents were saving people an ocean away in a faraway land where Milavi’s war had spread. They had been too close to Milavi claimed territory, likely mistaken for doctors healing rebels, and were thus punished for their good deeds. With no one left to turn to, her family’s closest friend, Señor Obregón, adopted (Y/n) and treated her as one of his own. 

Señor Obregón was a quiet but respectable man that spent his time either working or with his family. He was the one that taught her how to sew, knit, and tailor, after she became curious of his skills. There were two other girls, Lía and Cova, a few years younger than (Y/n), which is why she became the oldest sibling. Lía was the beauty admired all throughout their childhood and still beloved to this day. She most resembled her mother, but she wasn’t half as vain. Cova was the youngest and somehow the smartest, as she was able to quickly grasp the concepts from lessons even in (Y/n)’s class, despite being a few grade levels apart. She mostly resembled her father and his own wits. Then there was her, (Y/n), who had… whatever was left. Of course she never held any resentment toward her sisters, since they were always well behaved but perhaps a bit annoying with their squabbles. Lastly, was Señora Obregón, Rosita, who she just called Tia Rosa for short, was never rude or dismissive to her. Tia Rosa was actually very outgoing and talkative, but she was the sort of woman that wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something from last season. She desired the finer things in life and settled for no less, which is probably why Señor Obregón ended up in an early grave due to working himself to death just to try and afford the luxuries his wife craved. 

Immediately after the funeral, while they were still dressed head-to-toe in black and their eyes were puffy from crying, Rosita sat all three of her daughters for a conversation about the future. It would be impossible for her to keep them all in school, especially considering she hadn’t worked a day in her life. However, she wasn’t cruel enough to just toss her young girls out into the streets with nowhere to go. So, she devised a plan for each girl. Cova would be able to best utilize her smarts in a challenging field full of promise, which is why she was sent to a good witch in the next town over, to become an apprentice in magic. Lía was already very popular around town, she would thrive in a social environment like the bakery on main street where to this day men constantly asked for her hand. As for her, (Y/n), she would stay here in Obregón’s tailor shop, where Tia Rosa deemed was best fit. Afterall, she did know how to carry on the business, she had even helped their reputation grow substantially as more people came in every day and profits increased. Although, she hardly had the time to spend the earnings on herself, that’s what Tia Rosa was there for. Rather, never there for. She’d collect earnings from the business (Y/n) ran and would disappear for weeks or months at a time to another town or city. But that's besides the point… 

By now, the trolley she was on was near the center of town that happened to be within blocks away, the streets became crowded with people walking on foot. On roads below bridges, there were lines of military tanks rolling by. Not much further in, the sidewalks were jam packed with hundreds, upon thousands, of people. Confetti rained down, banners and flags were strung from every corner and door. Every window was occupied as citizens cheered and waved at the parade of temporary victors, a show of military strength. Soldiers in their crisp uniforms marched in unified lines, cavalry on horseback carried large flags. 

As the density of the crowds increased, and the volume of cheers and the parade along with it, she felt her heart beat louder. This was too much, it was too loud, she couldn’t even think…! But she had come this far, to go back home now when she was so close would be a little pathetic. Avoiding the commotion like a plague, she decided it best to take the maze of alleyways to calm her nerves. There were hardly any people on those backstreets, just the occasional stationed soldier. Focusing her gaze on the war propaganda posters on the brick and clay walls underneath window boxes filled with colorful flowers, she pretended to carefully study them as she increased her pace from a calm stroll to a quick speed walk, examining the items as if they were the most fascinating objects she ever saw. Really, she’d rather not make awkward eye contact with the soldiers on guard that watched her like a hawk, which is why she hurried along until they were out of sight.

Now that she was alone, with the crowds and their entertainment separated from her by walls of homes and businesses, she felt relief as the once loud sounds melted into background noise. For now she could concentrate on the address scribbled out on the folded piece of paper in her hands, and her anxiety could be replaced with confusion as she attempted to navigate these small hidden paths. This was only the second time she was on this path, since (Y/n) barely had time to ever go out due to work and her own incompetence. The first was on a holiday some weeks ago when the shop closed early, which granted her a few hours to venture on the main roads to the bakery where her friend worked. This was the second time, and she’s never taken the back roads, which was why she couldn’t tell left from right here. 

Just in time, she looked up from her note to stop her feet from moving, as she came face-to-face with an obstacle. It wasn’t another dead end, this obstacle wore clothing and golden pins, and had a head that could easily look down from his height and see the top of her hat. Immediately she stiffened up and took a step back, hesitantly forcing her eyes to look up at the smiling soldier that casually leaned against the wall. 

The young man only appeared amused as she jumped a step back in surprise. (Y/n) noticed that delighted sparkle in his eyes, as if her skittish self and startled reaction was his entertainment for the afternoon. Before she could open her mouth to mutter an apology and force her head down to continue ahead, the man leaned just a few inches closer to get a better look at her face hidden by the rim of her colorfully embroidered sun hat. “Huh, just like a mouse. Are you lost?” 

A mouse… A skittish field mouse. Would that then make him a rat or a predator? Holding her tongue so not as to speak her mind, she merely shook her head. Offending a soldier would not be good. Not that she had the confidence to say the quick comeback that came to mind anyways. “No… I’m not lost.” That was a lie. 

The young soldier persisted, refusing to move off the path as he continued to block her way. “You look lost. Say, what do you say to an invitation to tea? Afterwards, we can go over directions and escort you to where you’re heading.” Even his partner in patrol, an older gentleman, also a soldier but likely more experienced by at least a few years, moved from his post and approached in curiosity. 

As the second man stepped closer, she could distinctly hear his polished shoes tapping in a steady rhythm as he stood beside his friend. Her own heart rate easily outpaced his steps, and it wasn’t increasing due to excitement, it was due to growing unease. Yes, she knew rationally that these soldiers likely meant no harm and merely wanted to flirt, but her mind could only conjure up the worst possible scenarios as she reminded herself that they outnumbered her, they were stronger, and they had their long firearms strapped to their backs. Keeping her head down, she replied, “Thank you, but no. I’m supposed to be meeting up with someone.” 

Just like the first did, the second soldier bent down a bit to peer at her features. Just like his accomplice, he wore an amused smile as he shook his head and remarked. “A mouse? That’s not very nice. Don’t worry, you’re much better than a simple little mouse.” 

Rolling his eyes, the younger soldier only continued, “If you’re old enough to drink, we can go to a bar if that’s more your style? Do you live around here?” 

This was getting ridiculous. Did they never learn to accept rejection? No means no, even children could comprehend that. But for now, she was at their mercy, no one would come to help her here. It would be up to them to decide she was no use for any fun and let her go, or continue to persist for their selfish desires. “No. Please let me pass.” 

Barely phased by her firm reply, the younger of the two turned to his partner and scoffed, “See? I told you the girls don’t like the beard you’re growing out. It scares them.” 

It’s as if her plea went through one ear and out the other, not swaying them in even the slightest bit. The older gentleman merely rubbed the stubble on his chin, “It makes me look better. Besides, I’m sure she doesn’t mind. She might even prefer a man with facial hair.” Actually, the word gentleman did not describe him well. 

In that moment she was wondering, would she truly risk it all just to snap back in reply? It must’ve felt so satisfying, but was it necessary? Later, would she come to regret her decision or revel in it? Would she seriously use this sprouting frustration, minimal not only compared to her current fears but also in the grand scheme of things, to temporarily push past her anxiety and say something…? Probably not. As annoying as these men were, like the constant buzz of a pestersome fly, they hadn’t caused any harm except to waste a bit of her precious free time. 

“Ah, there you are, mi corazón. I was worried about you.” A smooth and silky voice interrupted.

[crescentpaws]

“surely crescentpaws’s sims version of fintante can’t get any worse right?” WRONG!

they’ve just started straight up refusing each other’s romantic interactions now 💀 can’t even kiss a guy anymore without him shoving you away from him smh. guys you are literally married come on

sigh. divorce arc is happing too soon

- their relationship bar got so low they’re not even friends anymore 😭

this screenshot is funny. WDYM ACQUAINTANCES. YOU’RE LITERALLY MARRIED 😭😭 (and they definitely are foes now… this is what the strained romance dynamic does to a couple i guess…)

- i had them go on a date (in their own house this time so they wouldn’t get mad at random outside forces) that was specifically designed to help fix bad relationships but… it didn’t really work at all

- they got into a physical fight 😭 guys stop it with the domestic violence come on now you’re better than this (no they’re not)

(fintan won. if you even care. he wins most of his fights these days (other than the grim reaper one lmfao))

- full red bars for both friendship and romance ❤️ yay ❤️ i’m so happy for them (someone needs to divorce them immediately)

- so that was probably the worst date ever.

- was curious to know if bronte was still attracted to fintan after all of this and he acted like it was a crazy thing to ask….

hm. do i need to bring up the “you’re married” thing again

- they literally do NOT care…. guys come on i am trying to help you… they’re too proud to try to work out their issues 💀

- sending them to couple’s therapy ❤️

- it worked a tiny bit??? it changed their relationship dynamic from strained to steamy which at least makes them more willing to be physically intimate… tbh i think this was my saving grace actually.

(bronte did not like it though.)

- basically then i just kept having them flirt & kiss over and over again until they didn’t hate each other as much 💀 at one point their romance bar was almost completely filled at the same time they were still in the red friendship zone which i thought was funny

okay ❤️ yay ❤️

(tune in next week where there is a 90% chance that this will happen all over again. (probably going to send them to couple’s therapy again just to be safe LMAO) i love when the game is canonically accurate <3)

[punkassfrance]

The Ponderosa Wolves - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Wet Hot American Summer (Work length ~1.9k) This work is rated M to be safe. Expect vulgarity, not explicit content. This chapter contains: mentions of raccoon violence. Owen mentions. Full Series - Next Chapter

Abby

“Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me.”

Abby pulls the screen closer to her face as she sits up in bed, her mouth opening as she parses the news before her. The caption beneath the photo confirms what she didn’t want to know.

Baby Moore coming December 2025!

Mel is holding up ultrasound photos on Instagram, smiling wide with Owen’s arms around her. He’s looking down at her with a grin, hands resting on her stomach. They both look too happy.

Abby throws her phone down on the bed seconds before she hears it buzz, groaning and resting her head in her hands. They broke up less than four months ago and he’s already knocked up his new girlfriend? It doesn’t take long to do the math in her head—they must have started dating the week after her and Owen broke up, if not the same day. She doesn’t want to consider the possibility that it was any sooner than that, but it’s not out of the question.

Whatever. It’s not her concern. They’re not together anymore, not even on speaking terms, what does she care? He can father enough children to fill a daycare, it wouldn’t affect her in the slightest. He’s not her problem anymore, and if Mel thinks she can deal with him, more power to her.

Rubbing her face, Abby peeks between her fingers at her phone lying on the bed, screen lit up with notifications. Most are from Nora. She grabs it and opens up their messages, scrolling through. The first message is a screenshot of the post.

I’m so sorry Abs

He’s a total dick

God, poor Mel

Are either of them thinking at all? They’ve only been together three months, neither of them have a degree yet lmao

The math isn’t mathing

Need to call?

Abby smirks at Nora’s rambling. She’s right, of course—it’s a shitty move to pull. Even if he doesn’t owe Abby anything anymore, it’s just stupid. There’s no way he doesn’t know how this looks, how badly this could go, how many ways he could fail and take Mel down with him. As much as she wants to hate Mel, she can’t quite bring herself to. She knows firsthand what it’s like to convince herself Owen is the one.

There’s a few messages from Manny too, one of them a screenshot of the post.

the fuuuuuuuuuuck

this has to be a bad joke

what a dumbass

you want me to kill him for you

that motherfucker im gonna go kill him rn

Abby snorts, firing back a quick I know, right before she responds to Nora.

No, I’m fine

Gonna shut off my phone for a bit, love you

She lets it power down and sets it on her nightstand, curling up on her side when she hears a gentle knock on her door.

“Yeah?”

The knob turns and her father steps in, smiling softly as he peeks through the doorway. She’s not sure when he got home from work, but he’s already changed out of his scrubs.

“Hey, honey. How was your day?”

Abby presses her lips together as she pulls a spare blanket over her shoulders, pulling it in to her chest. She shrugs, looking down. “Could have been worse, I guess. Registered for my fall classes, got everything I wanted.”

“Alright, score!” His smile falters a bit as he steps into the room. “I, uh…just got off the phone with Marlene.”

Abby sits up at the mention of Marlene. She knows her father talks to their family friend at least once a week, but she doesn’t often hear the details of their conversations. “How is she?”

“Oh she’s alright, just fine, but…Leah’s mom had a bit of an accident.”

Abby sits up, brows drawing together. “Shit. What kind of accident?”

“A really vague one Marlene wouldn’t give me details about.”

“How bad is it?”

He shrugs softly, crossing his arms as he leans against her doorway. “Sounds like she’ll pull through, but Leah needs to go back home for a bit to help out. Marlene’s gonna be short a counselor at camp for a few weeks.” He grimaces softly, glancing up from the ground to Abby.

Abby narrows her eyes. She knows that look. “Okay…?”

“…I told Marlene I’d ask if you wanted to step in.”

She sighs, eyes wandering as she thinks. She’s got a few more months before she goes back to campus; a few weeks at Marlene’s camp wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. As nice as the break has been, she’s getting restless. It wouldn’t hurt to spend some time in the woods after the news she just got, either.

“I mean—” Abby trails off, looking back up to her father. “…details?”

“Marlene’s got four middle school girls who need a counselor coming on Sunday for the next two weeks. You’d go up tomorrow to settle in, she’ll cover your gas. You’ll get paid, of course; I know you’re not going to want to work while you’re studying. She could really use a hand, but if you just want to relax for your summer break, that’s totally alright.” He takes a step forward, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Either way, she needs to know soon.”

It only takes Abby a moment to think about it. “…yeah. Alright, I’m in.”

-

Ellie

“Damn, that sucks.” Jesse takes a sip of his soda, free hand tucked into his pocket. “What are the odds of that?”

“The odds of getting attacked by a raccoon when you’re stupid enough to try to chase them away from your trash? Pretty high.” Ellie pushes a strand of hair out of her face, glancing over at Dina standing by the register. She chews on the straw of her milkshake, lost in thought as Dina pays for her drink.

“They don’t usually attack, though, do they?”

“Smacking it with a broom probably didn’t help.”

Jesse shrugs as Dina walks back to join them, ponytail swaying as she waves goodbye to the cashier.

“Dina, did you hear about Leah’s mom?” Jesse wraps an arm around her as she slides up beside him.

“She got mauled by a bunch of raccoons.” Ellie deadpans, sipping her milkshake.

“Uh, I thought it was just one raccoon?” Dina raises an eyebrow as she taps her nails on the plastic cup in her hands, incredulity tinting her voice.

“That’s not as fun to picture, though. What are you, the fun police?”

Ellie pushes open the door and steps out onto the concrete, holding it open for Jesse and Dina to follow. She inhales the smell of the woods, heat sizzling off asphalt of the empty parking lot. Most of the convenience store’s customers just walk over from the campsite a half mile away; she’s not sure why they have a parking lot at all. Regardless, she’s glad the store is here. The kids love to walk over during their free time, and it’s nice to have a steady sugar supply when the cafeteria is on a health kick.

Summer is in full swing in the mountains. Even in jean shorts and a black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, slathered in sunscreen, Ellie’s still struggling with the heat. If they weren’t in-between sets of campers, someone might try to fight her on the dress code, but in the moment she’d rather die than cover up any more.

“Well, who’s filling her position? Marlene’s already got the girls in Leah’s cabin planned out.”

“Dunno. Joel said she’s already put her usual backups with the high schoolers. The only one who has any middle school experience is a guy.”

Dina grimaces, pressing her lips together as the three of them start the short walk back to camp around the edge of the lake. “You don’t think she’s going to cram the girls into full cabins?”

“God, I hope not.” Ellie shudders. It’s only happened once before, but the cabins only have so many mattresses. Sleeping on the floor for two weeks had fucked up her back for the rest of last summer.

“Ugh, that would suck,” Dina says, raising the straw of her fountain drink to her lips.

“What do you care? You ditched us for the high schoolers.” Ditching might be a bit dramatic, but it’s not exactly wrong. Last year, Dina had been in the cabin right beside Ellie’s, both of them working with middle schoolers and sneaking over in the middle of the night to mess around when the girls were asleep. Their arrangement had ended unceremoniously when Dina got serious with Jesse in the last few weeks of camp, but Ellie didn’t hold a grudge. Dina’s been her best friend for too long, Ellie doesn’t want a life without her in it one way or another.

This year, Dina decided to work with the older kids in the high school cabins across the lake. Marlene didn’t hesitate to move her over, always desperate for counselors willing to wrangle teenagers. She’s still no more than a ten minute walk from Ellie’s cabin, but it’s ten more minutes than it was last year.

“I mean, it would suck for you.” Dina shrugs. “And I don’t want to listen to you complain about your back all summer again.”

“Just say you hate me. Can’t believe my favorite side chick hates me.” Ellie sighs dramatically, throwing her head back as the sun beats down on her face. Fuck, it’s hot out. She takes another sip of her chocolate milkshake.

Dina rolls her eyes, stepping away from Jesse’s side to loop her arm around Ellie’s. “Aww, Ellie. We all know you’re my side chick.”

Ellie’s right in the middle of an overdramatic eye roll when she feels her phone buzz. She pulls it out and squints to see the screen in the sunlight. It’s a message from Joel.

Do you want to come with me to get Sarah tomorrow?

Ellie grins. Sarah has been buzzing with excitement about going to camp all summer, even more when Joel promised the girl she’d be in Ellie’s cabin. For reasons Ellie will never understand, her little sister is thrilled to spend time with her. She messages him back.

ye

She almost puts her phone away before she sees a typing bubble pop up. Dina tilts her head at Ellie, lowering her cup. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just Joel.” She snorts as she sees his response.

You can’t even finish a word?

sry forgot you were born in the 1900s

She sends it off with an old man emoji and tucks her phone back in her pocket. “Just asking if I want to go pick up Sarah with him.”

Dina smiles. “She excited?”

“Oh yeah, can’t wait. I’m sure she’s pretty sick of Tommy by now.”

“Shit, I’d be pretty sick of Tommy too if I had to spend the whole summer with him.” Jesse shakes his head, looking away from the deep blue lake beside them. “Can I have my girlfriend back?”

“No,” Ellie and Dina say in unison, pulling closer to each other.

He shrugs, taking another drink of his soda. “Fine. You can borrow my girl since you can’t get one of your own.”

Ellie reaches over to shove him, Jesse breaking into a laugh as he stumbles to the side of the path. “Whatever! Remind me how long it took you to ask Dina out?”

“Three months,” Dina chirps, smirking as Jesse rights himself.

“Didn’t someone have to dare you?”

Jesse rolls his eyes, looking to the sky with a straight, exasperated face. “Why do I hang out with you two?”

“My ass?” Dina suggests.

“I’m a lovable scamp?” Ellie shrugs, raising an eyebrow. “Really hope it’s not my ass.”

“No, that’s why I hang out with you.” Dina nudges her.

“Damn straight.”

Hi everyone! This idea popped into my head and I can't seem to get rid of it, so here we go! This is going to be a lot more lighthearted than my other fic. Unrestrained summer fun. Yes, Ponderosa Lake is a real place in Washington, but for the purposes of this story it's a fictional lake in the mountains of California. (Yes, the Sierra Nevadas. I grew up in the area and I love it dearly.) I don't THINK there will be any major triggers, but please let me know if you spot something that deserves a warning!

I'm so excited for the series! Comments are always appreciated! Feel free to say hi or drop your thoughts in my askbox, check out my AO3 or my about me if you're interested!

Series taglist: @ellabslawyer @rareanduselessbird @hotwheels4hotgirls @polarhues

[shadowwolfmemes]

Let's not accuse people of serious allegations without proof

I can't believe I have to make a post about this, but this situation is getting ridiculous. I don't fucking care if they come after me next, I will not allow my friend to get ganged up on.

Can proshippers not call @rainbow-starheart a pedophile without proof please?

I know that I've called proshippers pedos, but that's because lolitas/shotas exist and they fall under the proship tag. I've also seen regular proshippers defend them because it's "fictional" and whatnot. That's besides the point, though.

People who are friends with Rainbow or at least interacted with her knows she's against pedophilia as a whole. Some of her moots are minors, but of course, proshippers always gotta make shit up to make her look bad as some sort of retaliation. They'll take any platonic friendship she has with them and try to make it seem as sexual as possible.

They called Rainbow a "groomer" and say she's "manipulative", but the truth is that they don't really have proof. When they do show "evidence", the screenshots they show is weaker than wet paper floating in a sink full of water.

"-then ordered her minor fanbase to interact with them."

Since when? The last I checked, she sends them to BLOCK, not interact, dumbass. But of course, you take blocking as "interacting" and "harassment". That's full on bullshit...

I highly doubt you can cough up proof of Rainbow doing that...

1.) Twisting my words. If you wanted clarification, I would've gladly explained what I truly meant.

2.) She doesn't tell minors to interact with proshippers. Rainbow hates proshippers as a whole. From what I've seen in the past, she told a minor not to talk to proshippers because they were ruining her mental health with their relentless bullying. But I guess you'd take that as "grooming", right?

"If Rainbow is such a safe space for minors, then why is she lying?"

*Proceeds to show a screenshot of Rainbow getting backed up by @sundecline after speaking facts*

What are you trying to prove with this screenshot? What specifically is so suspicious about it? It doesn't back up anything you just said.

I would believe it, but uh...

Rainbow didn't initiate it. She didn't get excited over it either. Again, you're making a mountain out of a mole hill...

Read that last tag...

You see it, right?

She isn't posting NSFW on her account because Rainbow is aware who her audience is. At least Rainbow has self awareness, unlike proshippers.

When did Rainbow initiate 'semi-sexual RP' in her reblogs...? That's such a big fat lie right there.

I visited her blogs more than once and I've never seen her write about sexual tendencies with minors.

And do I need to mention the fact that most proshippers defend CSEM? Yeah, y'all do yet you flip out whenever you see Rainbow talking to a minor so casually.

This is why I hate proshippers! You are all such hypocrites.

LEAVE RAINBOW-STARHEART ALONE.

I'm not going to be nice about it...

[fishyvamp]

I was browsing Pinterest when I stumbled across this screenshot:

Warning mind the tags and before you click see more there is a really really bad joke in this drabble.

All I could think of was Ghostface and reader teasing Trapper. All three of them done with their trials for the day lounging in the workshop on the Macmillan estate. Trapper is repairing the traps that were damaged during his trials. He can here the two of you in the back cuddling, on the beat up old couch you two had scavenged from the fog, exchanging jokes back and forth. Some cheesy others just dark. Doesn't help that you both are competing for worst dirty joke. "What did the prince say to Cinderella?" Danny mused face resting on your chest as he listened to your gentle breathing. "Want to see if it fits?" His voice light as he fights back a giggle.

You roll your eyes, "okay I'll give you that's bad." You hum thinking for a moment, "a vampire walks into a bar asks the bartender for a boiling cup of water. The bartender looks at him confused. 'thought vampires only drank blood?' the vampire smiles pulling out a tampon, 'they do I just wanted tea.'" you hear a trap snap shut trapper cursing loudly in Scottish Gaelic. A blush painting the skin along his shoulders as he turned around too look you dead in the eye. "No more," he said curtly.

You Ghostface turned to each other for as if silently plotting against the now flustered Evan. "What it's a natural thing?" Danny mused rising to his feet fingers grazing the larger man's arm. In sync you move to the other side match Danny's movement stroke for stroke. "I thought you could handle the thought of blood." You tease, his body tensing with each movement.

You can hear a strain in his voice, "I can, but that blood is indecent. You don't talk about it." The two of you now sitting on the work bench arms crossed as you stay in sync with movements. "Why?" You hear Danny chuckle. Trapper can't even look at the two of you as you talk. "It just is." His tone sharp, arms folded against his chest as he leans back trying to distance himself. He shouldn't have to be defending himself you two should just know.

A smirk on your face leaning forward resting your face in the palm of your hands. "With everything we've done, with everything we've said to each other, a tampon soaked in blood as a joke is too far?"

The Trapper sighs looking at you both with softer eyes, "it's not something that one should discuss. Diamond." Danny and you both pause realizing that Evan is politely drawing the line. The safe word spoken loud and clear. The two of you sighing almost in sync, choosing to sit in his lap kissing him on both his cheeks. You can feel the large man relaxing hands resting on a thigh each. "Reckon it's time for me to stop and give you both some needed attention instead?" His grip possessive moving to your inner thighs. The tense fading as you both nod in agreement. "Good," He purrs.