#this is the only ad ill ever blog

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 16

ITS HERE AAAHHHHH It took longer than I hoped, but I got a new job, so that ended up eating a lot more of my energy and time. BUT the chapter is here! Ended up having to cut it up a bit because I couldn't find a spot to end it without it getting to long in a way I didn't like, but its done!! Plus, it gives me a headstart on the next chapter a thousand words or so q(≧▽≦q) I hope you all enjoy!!

Summary: You wake up feeling worse than when you went to sleep, and get the scare of a lifetime. Though it seems something good might have come out of it... Now if only your luck would give you a break when around the King of the Night... (It'll get better eventually)

CW: Food poisoning, slight depressive thoughts, slight yandere thinking if you squint, slight unhealthy yearning (its fiiine)

Word Count: 4413 words!

Tag List: @pvnk-whvre @mazlodowki @chesireleaf @starryhiraeth @jellyfishoreo1206 @just-some-water-lillies @blackmeetsworld @khaleesihavilliard @sisterofsin29 @str4wbang3l @nikkilovemark @ms-bakugo-blog @kittenlover614 @simpytheshrimpy69 @midgetdemon17 @just-nother-dreamer @adrakeshoard @tilldeathripsusapart @thedeadlynights @pumpkinvampie @bethleeham @mshope16 @sixsixtwenty @haleypearce @rvautomatic @tinystarfishgalaxy @marshmelloe @maorizon @ursamajor17 @sapphicsfordracula @dame-sunflowers @sleepyendymion @starrlo0ver @onewiththebeanbag If you want to be added, or if I missed your blog, let me know!

---

Dracula liked to consider himself a patient man.

When you were an eternally immortal vampire, and had Death quite literally as your right hand man, you learned quickly that patience was a necessary skill to harness.

After a couple of decades, you learn to grow used to it. Days bleed into weeks, weeks bleed into months, months bleed into years…

Before you know it, you are seeing a decade pass by in the blink of an eye.

It was one of the things he wished he had anticipated more when he made the decision to become immortal. Perhaps those first grueling decades wouldn’t have crawled by at a snail's pace as he dealt with his simmering feelings of pain, grief, shame, and betrayal.

However, within a century, Dracula learned how to distract himself.

He always had been a man of discovery and science. If he had all the time in the world, he could put it to good use.

One of the first things he threw himself into was medical practice.

With his precious Elizabetha gone from an illness, what better way to honor her memory, than to make sure nothing could ever happen to anyone else he may cross paths with, should he ever find a friend in his endeavors?

Or if not, he’d at least have the knowledge on hand should anyone come looking for a deal.

People would make deals for just about anything, if they desired it enough. Medicinal knowledge was something that a surprising amount of people sought out.

Usually it was for personal reasons. A family member was sick, a person was ill and not recovering, some wished to live longer…

Back when he had first turned, and for a few centuries after, if you caught something as simple as a cold or the flu, it could be a death sentence.

So it ended up being a huge benefit on his end for researching it. When you have knowledge people need or want, they’ll agree to almost any term or condition.

Even the ones who called it heresy would bend a knee if it meant they could ‘outwit’ Death itself.

It was also how he met his dear Lisa, who looked to him for knowledge. Simply wanting to help others.

Those memories were bitter sweet, but he didn’t regret his decisions learning such things, or teaching her. He would hold those memories dear to himself.

Besides that, he threw himself into many other things, such as technological marvels. Just what was the universe capable of, with a little push and pull?

Regardless, his thoughts were straying. Dracula was used to having to bide his time, and having time to waste.

So why was waiting for one human for a month such a difficult task?

For the first time in a few centuries, waiting a simple month felt like he was waiting years.

Perhaps it was that things were different this time around?

That…

…And Dracula missed you.

Not that he’d admit that outloud with any of his underlings nearby, of course.

He hadn’t been ‘awake’ long in the grand scheme of things. But given his track record of how long he has before he is found and destroyed, it felt longer.

Add that with how much he was pining for his Little Belmont who had to leave?

It was hard not to outwardly sulk.

You were interesting. You were new. You were different.

Did he really want to give up his desire to destroy humanity? Not… entirely, but he was willing to see what you had to offer. Willing to work with you and see where this budding friendship could go.

But you were gone. And he had to wait.

That… and he was worried.

Him. King of the Night. He was someone people told their children about to keep them from sneaking out of bed at night.

Yet, how could he not be, given the state you were in when you freed him?

You were tight lipped about whatever your home situation was, but he was a smart man. He may detest many humans, but his castle welcomed those shunned and hurt by humanity as a whole. On a rare occasion, that included humans too.

The tolerable kind.

He recognized the signs of someone who was clearly in a bad situation.

Those wounds of yours were concerning. Dare he say, nearly fatal. Yet you still had made the effort to get to his castle. You felt safer here before he was even awake, rather than wherever your little cabin was.

For once, he thanked fate for gifting you to him that day.

Even if it had been a result of a curse he himself had done, he was incredibly lucky it was you that set him free.

“Hmm…”

His heart thrummed the more he thought of you, something he was doing often. Humans do have a saying, distance makes the heart grow fonder, and whatnot.

Add that with his worry for you… he hadn’t stopped thinking of you all month.

Were you okay? Were you being treated well at home?

You’d be here soon, he knew that. Even Death was kind enough to let him know you’d arrive sometime this week.

Eyes narrowing, Dracula looked towards the shadows in his throne room as he thought of his lieutenant.

He still wasn’t quite happy to learn Death had paid you a visit without being asked. Dracula knew Death wouldn’t be afraid to take things into his own hands if he felt it would benefit his master.

However, Dracula was even more upset at what Death had told him.

‘They were as aware as any hunter… but I couldn’t help but think they looked akin to that of a mouse, rather than a cat with how they acted. That… and while their injuries were mostly healed, they did not look well.’

Dracula had listened, his rage and worry bubbling beneath his skin.

‘Their soul is strong, but their life force is weak. Not close to my realm, but one might find it concerning how a Belmont is so… ill. That… and a rather concerning bruise lay across their face. As a hunter, I wonder why they had not healed it. Surely they would have the resources?’

He had, admittedly, not taken that information too well.

Dracula’s eyes drifted to the side, where a large, burned part of his throne room lay. He hadn’t gotten around to letting the castle fix itself yet.

In his defense, he hadn’t exactly anticipated having such a literal explosive reaction, especially over a Belmont.

That same rage and worry still lingered in his veins. It was a familiar rage. One he remembers all too well when he had lost others close to him due to humans.

Dracula yearned to act, but he could not. Any active move he made potentially would push you away.

However, this was a very fine line. You were a Belmont, and he of all people knew that your lot didn’t go down without a fight. At what point however, did you no longer have a means to protect yourself? Especially by those potentially in your own home?

At what point would he have to cross that line in order to keep you alive? Would he really risk what little peace you both had to ensure you were okay?

Was it even worth it?

A growl left his throat as he debated his options.

It was one thing to act out over Lisa and Elisabetha. He had been too late with each one, and he would forever regret it.

But dare he act out to try and figure out what was going on with you?

What if he was horribly horribly wrong? It was a small chance he was misreading the signs, but it wasn’t zero.

At least out of all of this, Death was able to… give him your location. For presumably both your home and your little cabin.

Dracula felt very on the fence about learning such information. For once, it felt like a breach of privacy. Something you should have told him yourself.

Yet another part of him felt relief knowing you were close by. Even if your family home was farther away, it was nothing for a being such as himself. If he had to check on you, he could. He had the means to.

But should he?

Dracula pinched the bridge of his nose.

Why was it that he suddenly found himself so uncertain with his decisions when it came to you?

In part, he knew the answer, deep deep down.

He liked you.

He was worried about you.

He wanted to keep you here despite what little interactions you both have had-

Dracula’s thoughts halted when he felt the arms of his throne splinter under his claws, and the base of the seat cracking.

No need to get ahead of himself.

Patience. He needed patience.

He just hoped being patient wouldn’t cost you your life.

Though his lips formed a fine line when he felt a familiar presence lingering beside his throne.

“You better have some good news.” He mumbled, eyes looking over to the side.

Death simply tilted its head, and Dracula couldn’t help but narrow his eyes.

He didn’t like that look.

—

Waking up from sleeping was always a 50/50 for you.

Sometimes, you slept fine. No nightmares, and if you were lucky, you felt fully rested.

Other times… not so much.

In fact, you’d argue that you more often than not woke up feeling awful while sleeping in your family home.

It wasn’t a surprise to you. Given how your living condition was, you expected it most of the time. Even just your anxieties alone of your step father barging into your room to yell at you, or push you around was enough to make you feel sick most days. Even on the quiet ones.

The threat alone of being bothered was enough to make you feel awful.

That isn’t even the surface of it, really. You hated thinking about it too much, since it just made the waves rolling in your gut worse.

Still, you could only groan in pain and annoyance as your stomach churned, leaving you to roll over awkwardly in bed.

“Ugh…”

You felt like shit.

This… wasn’t an uncommon occurrence either. On rare occasions, if you went to a hotel, or your little cabin… Sometimes you’d wake up in pain.

You mainly chalked it up to your body finally resting. Or something like that.

But you still thought it was complete bullshit.

With another pained groan, you rolled over again, purposely falling out of the bed. A grunt left your mouth as you landed on the cool, wooden floor of your room.

Face scrunching up, you awkwardly put a hand to your head, but cursed. You had no means of telling if you had a fever or not from your hand alone.

But you did feel uncomfortably warm. That wasn’t good.

Letting out a brief sigh of determination, you shakily sat up on your knees, before letting out a gagged noise.

“Too fast, too fast…” you mumbled, falling forward slightly, one arm keeping you up against the bed frame while the other gripped your stomach.

Okay. You were a bit more sick than anticipated.

Growling a bit, you grit your teeth, and attempted to stand up. You had to use the bed to keep yourself steady, but at least you could shuffle to the bathroom now. Hopefully.

Biting your lip in pain, you pushed forward. The bathroom wasn’t far, but you still struggled with how the room around you seemed to spin as you walked while still being half asleep.

Your head pounded, and your stomach lurched just as you made it in the small room.

Falling to the floor, you let out another groan as you crawled to the toilet with a scowl.

Why were you so sick? Did you catch something while out yesterday? If anything, the only people you interacted with had been the sales woman, and-

Your blood nearly went cold.

Surely, Death didn’t make you sick, did it?

A moment passed, and then another as you bit your lip.

No, you don’t think they did.

Death seemed only intent on keeping an eye on you and warning you not to fuck around, less you find out. They didn’t seem upset when you had been at the store.

If Death hadn’t done this to you, what did?

Briefly, you went over what you did yesterday, before letting out a noise of annoyance. Had it been those old leftovers you had eaten in passing?

“Please tell me this isn’t food poisoning…” you groaned out, before feeling your stomach lurch.

Okay. Yeah, food poisoning. Why the hell not. Sure.

After unwillingly emptying the contents of your stomach, you slumped further against the toilet. At least you remembered to clean it last time you were here…

“My, you look worse for wear.”

Despite the pain in your gut, you were up in seconds, whip in your hand-

Only to groan as the room spun, but you were able to make out who had broken into your cabin.

Death. Speak of the devil.

You stumbled, and clumsily reached out to the wall next to you to steady yourself just enough to lower yourself back to the floor.

It was a gamble, you hated being this vulnerable around Death. It was one thing when you just felt meh in public.

However, feeling like shit while you were critically sick? All Death had to do was snap its fingers, and you had no chance of dodging whatever was thrown your way.

Yet the deity just looked at you curiously, that same flame burning in those dark eye sockets.

Still, you felt irritation and panic bubbling beneath your skin.

“Are you stupid?!”

The question came out more as a rasp than a yell, but Death was taken aback either way. Seems it didn’t like your audacity.

“For the record, Belmont-”

You pointed at the deity, cutting him off.

“This house is covered in spells, wards, and artifacts! If you move a single foot in any direction, you’ll be incinerated!”

Death paused- now realizing you weren’t just being difficult because you were seemingly sick.

Slowly, he looked around, and realized you were right. Death could feel the power surrounding your little safe house, it was nearly as intense as the power of his Master’s castle.

If Death had been in a mortal form, no doubt he would suddenly be sweating. Even they could admit the magic and power of a Belmont was… terrifying.

Not to mention you seemed like the paranoid type. Death didn’t doubt you most likely put extra protections on this place.

“Yeah, is it hitting you now?! Good lord, how on earth did you manage to find the one spot in the house that-”

You paused, an odd look crossing your face, before you scrambled over to the toilet to hurl.

Your breathing stuttered, before you looked over your shoulder once you stabilized yourself.

“No offense, genuinely, but I suggest you leave. I have no idea what will go off if you move even an inch.”

Death took in your form.

“You are unwell.”

No shit, Sherlock-

You wanted to retort, call the deity an idiot, but you held your tongue. Bickering with Death when you felt like shit wasn’t a good idea, even if they couldn’t really move without serious consequence.

“Yeah. I’ll try and be better in a week.”

A moment passed, and you looked behind your shoulder to ask Death to leave-

…Only to see no one there.

Seems the ancient being took your advice.

Your body relaxed, just a bit. Puking in front of the all powerful deity of Death wasn’t exactly what you’d call a fun time. Maybe when you feel better, you’ll have it in you to be embarrassed.

However, it seems you’d have to update your cabin’s security. Who knew a single square foot in your bathroom was an open door for the paranormal? At least you hadn’t been caught with your pants down when finding out this information.

Granted, Death might be a special case here. No doubt the deity was just as powerful as Dracula, so your lower level protections were probably useless.

Still, you had plenty of stronger protections, ones that would light Death on fire or explode if they had moved just a little in any other direction.

And by god you would have hated having to deal with that, thank you very much. The last thing you needed was an angry grim reaper on fire in your bathroom while you were puking your guts out.

Sighing, you grimaced before peeling yourself away from the bowl, just long enough to open the cabinet nearby under the sink. In it was your personal bag you kept medicine in, this being far from the first time you’ve had to camp out in the bathroom after a rough month.

You shakily took a few things, and greedily grabbed a bottle of water you kept in it for this very purpose. Thankfully you were prepared for being sick, even if it had been a while since you had food poisoning.

At least you seemed to get the worst of it out, at least for now. Not like you had a lot in your gut to begin with. The leftovers for the sandwich you had eaten yesterday hadn’t exactly been much.

Still… You felt awful. Weren’t you supposed to feel a lot better after getting rid of the worst of it? You were still clammy, and definitely had to have a fever. No doubt it would take a few days to be right as rain again.

A feeling stirred in the back of your head. Perhaps you really were running yourself to the ground at this rate if you were this sick.

“What rotten timing, too…” you mumbled, succumbing to the floor as the medicine settled in your stomach. At least you’d probably be fine enough to walk back to bed here in a minute.

How on earth were you going to make it to Dracula if you were too sick to even walk to his castle? Sure, it wasn’t far, but you were in no shape to do so.

At least when you were injured, you could ignore some of the wounds to make it. But if you were puking half the walk? Too dizzy to even stand for more than five minutes? You’d probably fall in the lake and drown or something.

A bitter laugh left your lips. Maybe that’d be best.

Frowning, you clutched your whip, which had been sitting idly on the floor since Death had left.

No. As easy as it would be to let something like that happen, your mother wouldn’t want it. If anything, you’d stay alive out of spite just to outlive Jason and the others.

That is, if a monster or Dracula himself didn’t kill you first.

Well, if it did, then Dracula would be Jason’s problem, and you doubted Dracula would be as kind and considerate to him and your step brothers as he had been with you.

Despite how awful you felt, that strange warmth prodded at your chest again. You groaned.

Even now, your heart raced slightly. Dracula for sure wouldn’t give your step family the time of day, right? You were special. At least for now.

Another reason to stay kicking, you guess. As odd as this whole arrangement was, you wanted to see this agreement through.

And maybe… remain friends with Dracula. Someone who actually seemed to care about you. For now.

“How am I supposed to do that though, stuck on the bathroom floor!?” you grumbled to yourself, tensing as a wave of nausea passed through you, though thankfully didn’t make you retch.

A sigh left your lips. Your life could never be easy, could it?

Just as you were about to accept your fate of laying on the floor for at least an hour, you felt a powerful, prickling sensation at your neck. You shot up in alarm.

Your defenses.

The many shields, wards, and spells were going off in warning as something prodded at them, yet didn’t outright attack or destroy them.

Gripping your head at the influx of both pain, dizziness, and the prickling feeling. You stumbled to your feet with your whip in hand.

“What in the everloving hell…”

Perhaps you had been thinking too soon. Was a monster here to try and kill you? Or Death fucked up and accidentally got caught in one of your traps?

As amusing as the latter thought was, you felt more adrenaline pump through your body, even if you struggled to stand without looking like you would fall over at a small gust of wind.

Death may make you wary, but at least he seemed content to leave you be if Dracula desired it.

Other monsters however… If they wanted you dead outside of Dracula’s castle, you’d have to deal with them personally.

If anything, at least the barriers of your house would give you a fighting chance given the state you were in. Wouldn’t be the first time you had to fight in a hold out-like scenario… but you hated having to do it in your own cabin.

Especially when you had no idea what else would know about this place if just one monster knew about it.

Or two, counting Death.

Oh, how you really hope Death didn’t snitch to some monster in a vain attempt to slyly get rid of you. That was not a headache you wanted to deal with right now…

With some struggle, you pushed yourself through your small cabin quickly, trying to ignore how the room spun around you with each step. You could still feel whatever it was picking and prodding at your cabin’s magic walls, making the dizzy feeling in your head even worse.

As you reached the front door, you gripped your whip tightly in your hand, and the scowl hardened on your face. Whatever monster was trying to breach your security was as good as dead.

With a deep breath, you gathered your nerves and shoved the door open, ready to fight whatever was at your home-

…

…Only to pause, nearly stiff as stone.

In front of your house, there wasn't just any monster.

No.

It was Dracula.

Said King of the Night was curiously poking at your shields and wards over the house, almost… gleefully admiring the magic you had strung together over the years.

However, he paused, straightening when he heard your door slam open.

Both of you were frozen, neither moved a muscle. It was as if the shock in your system had temporarily paused how awful you felt.

It was near dead silent. The only noise being the wind rustling the bushes and trees of the forest surrounding your cabin, and the occasional rumble of thunder from the dark clouds that had seemingly overtaken the sky.

A million questions flew through your head at once. How did he find this place? Did Death tell him? Why was he here? Was he going to kill you? Destroy your little sanctuary?

…Was he here just to see you?

Despite the never ending flow of questions… You found it hard to care about most of them.

Because if you were being honest with yourself, you were just happy to see him at all.

Those piercing red eyes stared at you from across the small yard, the wind occasionally blowing his hair and cloak. It was hard not to take everything about him in.

That warm feeling in your chest was suddenly back, stronger than ever, and your heart pounded hard against your rib cage.

Dracula was here. And that made you… happy.

You should have been upset. Angry. Paranoid. You should have demanded to know how he found your little cabin, and how he got past the initial wards, glyphs, and seals.

But you weren’t. You found you could care less about that at the moment.

Especially as his eyes never left you, and his head tilting to the side, almost curious. It was a movement that nearly broke you from your stupor, and you hesitantly took a wobbly step forward, almost unsure of yourself.

Dracula noticed your hesitation, and for a second, your heart thudded in your chest in a burst of anxiety. Would he attack you? Turn you away? Mock you, seeing as you are clearly ill and weak? Even now, you were beginning to struggle to stay on your feet... Another beat passed.

Instead of any sharp remarks, like you anticipated, Dracula surprised you-

…By simply holding out a hand in your direction.

It was a simple gesture, but it was one with weight.

He clearly couldn’t pass your barriers, not without attempting to destroy them or altering them. Instead, he was silently inviting you to him. Outside of your cabin. Outside of your magic seals and glyphs. Outside of your walls of safety.

You should have turned away, told him to come back in a few days at best- maybe yelled ‘get lost!’-

But you couldn’t. Your eyes never left him, flickering between his face and his outstretched hand.

His face meanwhile, had gone from simply curious, to dare you say… soft. Almost worried, yet…

No words were spoken, nor did they need to be.

Because you were already walking.

It was slow at first, your feet moving on their own accord. Each step was a bit wobbly, but you picked up speed.

Quickly, you were stumbling your way over, the only thought on your mind was reaching him. It was as if nothing else mattered in that moment.

As you reached where your strongest barriers kept him out, you slowed, nearly to a stop. Your breathing was labored, and your sight was swimming.

Only a few feet stood between you both, and just as you reached your barriers end-

You collapsed.

A curse left your lips. However, instead of crumbling to the ground like you were expecting, you instead were caught in a set of arms. It took a moment to gather your bearings, before it dawned on you what had happened.

Two strong arms held you steady, and you could almost feel your brain short circuiting as you processed what was happening.

You had fallen right past your barriers, and right into Dracula’s arms.

----

First: Here

Last: Here

Next: ?

[hellincarnation]

Hello! This is a message to the anon who has been sending very haphazard, messy and increasingly nonsensical hate. They are pretty ew.

Not sure if cringe anon is the same as this one, but if you are, here’s a quick thingy. Sure, I’ve played with your message, adding humour as a lovely way of mockery to you. But there is a line to be drawn, I’m fine with you making snarky comments. I make snarky comments, but I draw the line when you start insulting whole groups of race. And….insulting us with the most generic types of comments.

Seriously?

That is the most ridiculous pseudo hate ever.

I’ll remind you that the term “asians” include Chinese, Korean, Japanese, Thai, Viet, Malaysian, Singaporean, Filipino, Indonesian, Saudi Arabian, Indian, Bhutanese, Pakistani, Lebanese and so many more groups of people.

You’re gonna have to be the most dumb, blind and ignorant piece of filth if you think all of those groups of people look the same. If you really believe that, you’re bigoted and ill informed.

Also. OF COURSE SOME GROUPS OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE A COMMON ANCESTOR LOOK THE SAME, OH MY GOD THE STUPIDITY!

And if you are part of Asia and you’re gonna whine like “I was just making a joke!” This is not a joke if it hurts people, yes this is a popularised statement but to many people, it is not funny. It is only a joke when EVERYONE is laughing. So shut up about that.

And then here

….that’s just so wrong.

First of all, I’m ethnically Chinese, which means my great grandparents originally came from china. I was not born on the mainland, nor was my parents, nor was my grandparents. And where I am currently living, consumption of dog meat is illegal. Even in China, the amount of dog meat consumption is drastically decreasing.

That is an old, outdated, stereotypical, insulting way to refer to Chinese people. Not only that!

You also might refer to people from Cambodia, India, Indonesia, Ghana, Laos, Vietnam, Nigeria and Switzerland. Unless you’re saying I’m from all of those countries, your statements makes no fucking sense.

I’ll wrap it up, in the end, I may laugh, joke around, make fun of such comments, but I draw the line when it could potentially hurt bigger groups of people.

My blog is a place to talk to my friends, I’ve made many good ones here, Mireya, Zahrawr, Tanaka, Jeah, Riyana, God, Tamanna, Etc

To all of you, I’m very grateful for getting to meet you.

To this Anonymous person: if you come out and say “oh it’s just a joke” or reveal that you are Asian too, shame on you. Out of all people, you should know how bigoted and disgusting those statements are. If you aren’t asian, even worse. You’re a stupid, ignorant and pathetic piece of shit who thinks it’s okay to send these types of messages. You disgust me.

Moving on, I will not tolerate any more of these types of posts, I will be deleting them on sight. I won’t be turning off anon, since there are lovely anons who like to send nice messages. But I will not be posting anymore of these stupid, idiotic and hateful comments, especially that could potentially hurt a large number of people.

Fuck off, leave all these people alone, leave me alone, this is not a joke, it’s not okay to be spout this bullshit so freely.

Update: I’ve blocked anon ;)))

If this turns out to be anyone I’ve tagged, I will be very very disappointed in you.

@jeahreading @tamanna-and-her-struggles @shinchansbitch @im-on-crack-send-help @iamgayforyourmom1510 @mentallyunstablequeen101 @momhwa117 @zeherili-ankhein @your-dazzling-sun @schrodinger-ka-billa @abyssmita @cafffeineconnoisseur @byproduct-of-hades @lotuseaterwhowistlesthedark @mireyaaaaaaaaa @circe-butbetter @mi-stress-of-chaos @lyrebirb @depressed-bi-twerking @hershey-not-the-chocolate-maybe @lesbianpoetess @unhinged-as-hell @debacleofdaemons @sunshinerainbowsandlollipops @celesteablack @evry1h8s-me @transienctly-translucent @priimadonnna

[grims-local-pkmn-irl-hub]

How to Write Engaging Anons

I’ve spoken to a lot of people behind close doors and we have all come to a realization: PKMN IRL as a community isn’t the greatest at sending engaging anons,,,

A lot of anons tend to get off track from what the blog runner is trying to do or will send completely unrelated anons during a plot moment on someones blog which can be incredibly frustrating for the blog runner.

So, I’ve decided to compile a little “guide” to help.

Look over the recent posts of a blog to see if they’re doing anything that could be considered plot relevant before sending an anon. Are they vague posting about something? Did they cut off a tangent too short? Did they mention they have stories to share if anyone wants them? Did they say something off or slightly concerning? ASK ABOUT IT! Ask them to elaborate! Ask for more detail!

Try and keep asks on task if a plot hook/point is currently happening. It is incredibly discouraging for a blog runner to see the notif for an anon only to open it and it have nothing to do with what they are currently trying to reveal/be engaged with. Do not latch onto a bit like your life depends on it because you are most likely just tiring out the blog runner who just wants to share interesting character/story info. Bits have a time and a place.

Don’t have a character that would realistically send that anon? Then don’t send it as that character, send it as yourself. The blog runner and character will not know the difference. This also has an added benefit of baiting a character into talking about something you know your character can then interact with. Anons are great for interaction in more ways than just asks.

Worried someone already sent the ask you’re about to send? SEND IT ANYWAYS! A blog runner would much prefer two of asks of generally the same question than zero asks! And it shows that people care enough to ask that question twice! It gives the blog runner something to think about when writing!

Don’t have any idea of what anon to send without an ask game? SEND THE SUPER “BASIC” ONES! I promise you that very basic questions like “how do feel about this”, “why do you say that”, “you mentioned [this], can you elaborate more” ARE LOVED BY BLOG RUNNERS!!! So much can be understood about a character’s mental state or attitude depending on how they choose to answer these questions. They’re “basic” and “overused” because they are really good questions to ask!

Try and engage critically with a character! Remember! This is an RP community! We are playing these characters as if they are real so you need to treat them like people! For example: Telling a very clearly mentally ill character that their thought process isn’t healthy and that they should just go to therapy isn’t the most helpful anon and it especially isn’t when that seems to be all the blog runner gets when they’re character gets like that. A good way to try and engage critically is to ask similar questions as above such as “why do you think that” along with some others like “can you walk me through your thought process”, “do you know when you started acting/thinking like this”, etc.

IC Hate Anons. These anons are fun and good! They can be very useful for story telling and showing off certain aspects of a character! They can also be super draining especially when that seems to be all that a character gets when trying to do plot hooks/points. It can make a blog runner’s motivation wane and deplete when all it ever seems like is that anons want to use their character as a punching bag. A good way to negate this is if you send an IC hate anon is to quickly follow it up with an anon that’s trying to engage critically and is asking questions and treating the character as a person. This allows for a blog runner to have choices on whether they want their character to be a punching bag right now and get beat down or would rather follow the anons line of questioning.

Ask games. I know I’m beating a dead horse here but SEND AN ASK TO THE PERSON YOU ARE REBLOGGING FROM. The blog runner will see you reblogging it from them and be waiting for an ask to come in and then it never does. Send an ask. They are literally pre-written most of the time. Okay that’s all I have to say here. 👍

Make sure the anon has some sort of substance. Even when sending anons outside of plot periods make sure the anon has something the character and blog runner can actually feasibly answer. One word anons that are just “yeah” or “okay” are incredibly difficult to respond to. So is randomly being sent quotes or things that just generally have nothing to do with the blog or pokemon in general. People have an easier time when being sent asks about their character’s pokemon, family, friends, most recent stupid post, etc. I have about 40 anons rotting in my inbox for @/espers-n-espurrs because they have nothing to respond to. And this isn’t to say silly/dumb anons shouldn’t be a thing. They should be but they should also be something someone could reasonably reply with besides just replying with “why the fuck did you send me this”.

In all, remember you are not only engaging with a character and their story but you are also engaging with a blog runner. You may never know their name or have a one on one conversation with them but the asks you send their characters do have an effect on the blog runner.

Show that you are engaging with their character, show that you care about the story they are trying to tell.

Reblogs are important for interaction but in my mind asks are the backbone of this community. A good ask and a good response allows for a good chance for others to be able to interact with the response IC.

But yeah, remember, the blog runner is still there behind that screen, you are still interacting with them when you interact with their character. Give them something to work with when you send an ask.

[pedgito]

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter One: Teacher’s Pet

Chapter Summary: First day woes and a difficult semester ahead, you find solace in your caring, attentive creative writing professor who shows you just a little more attention than everyone else, or so you think. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (his teacher persona is v different from outside of the classroom, so if he seems slightly ooc....close your eyes), dom!joel, sub!reader, reader is a little obsessed with joel (and delusional), mentions of infidelity (not by joel), sarah doesn't exist here, background tess x joel, inappropriate relationships/actions, talks of literature and lots of random writing topics, dream smut, gratuitous descriptions of mr. miller's body and personality.

note: thanks to @planet-marz1 for the last minute beta.

— AO3 | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec

There’s a deafening silence that surrounds you when you step into the lecture room, not nearly as big as your other main course classes, it’s intimate. Close. If you kicked a foot out from the chair you were sitting in you could touch the professor’s desk. 

Part of you wonders if you were the only person taking this class, sitting for a few minutes alone, not another person in sight—until one files in, then another, until there’s about ten of you seated sparsely in the small space. It’s mostly bare aside from the few books shoved away on a nearby shelf, antiquey books that, no doubt, had a thick layer of dust. 

The problem with the class was that you weren’t sure if it was ever going to be a real thing—applying you had the expectation of who your teacher would be, what you could expect from the coursework, and just how manageable it would be amongst the rest of your classes. But, there was little known now. 

All you did know was that they had to find a replacement quick, which they did, and you were sure that a sign of their lacking punctuality was a great start, tucking your chin over the bag placed on your desk as you waited in silence amongst simmered voices, feeling starchly out of place.

You didn’t know this place—it was new, Austin. You moved clear across the country on a whim, wanting a new start in a place you’ve never seen before. You’d plucked a community college out of the bunch, not worried with the semantics of applying to some big, ivy league school. You wanted something manageable, something attainable. This seemed like the easiest option, unsuspecting and unknown, you could slink by and go about your life peacefully. 

That is what you wanted, after all.

Until you meet Mr. Miller.

Joel could’ve pursued music, or carpentry, or about a billion other things he was skilled at—yet somehow, teaching seemed to be the easiest option. It gave him the familial feeling of caring and guiding that he did enjoy, molding young minds and helping them bloom. He worked at a local high school in Austin for years—fifteen good, long years. 

But, he too needed a change. His life was slowly crumbling in on himself.

He sees the job opening on the last weekend of summer, still teetering with the option of returning to his teaching job at the high school—it isn’t as manageable as it used to be, finding that in his older age that dealing with the behavior and arguments with ill-managed kids was more of a hassle than it needed to be for the pay he was receiving. 

So, fuck it. He applies.

He gets a call the following Monday and he’s officially added to the staff by the end of the week—and of course, he’s never stepped foot on the campus until his first day. So, he’s lost. Joel realizes how unprofessional it looks, scrambling with his bag as he throws it over his shoulder and haphazardly adjusts his tie, hoping that his hair wasn’t too askew and wild, despite the wind flying through his hair in the chilly bite of the autumn weather.

Things couldn’t have been off to a better start.

-

There’s the slightest trickling of a thought that you should leave, give up that this class might be an ultimate failure but then he’s walking through the door. You knew his name, but that was as far as your reach extended. Mr. Miller. J. Miller, to be specific.

James. Justin. Jonathan. It was all a mystery to you.

You find that his appearance is less than prepared, mostly disheveled and he seems breathless as he offers a subtle nod of awkward acknowledgement as he slings his bag onto the desk. Thankfully, he seems to understand that there was a tinge of urgency with him being late and he quickly reaches into his bag and pulls out a stack of papers.

Class syllabuses. He hands them off silently to the person on the farthest side of the room and hoping they would get the idea, pass them off until they reach the final person. It’s crisp, stark white paper covered in a boring black-inked text. Nothing seemed out of the norm—different methods of writing you would try over the course of the semester and specific assignments that would pop-up throughout. You enjoyed the predictability of it. Though, there is a significant surprise when your professor begins to speak, pulling your attention to the front of the room.

He’s gathered himself rather quickly, assuming he’s had his fair share of time in the field.

He writes his name out in clear, dignified letters on the board.

Mr. Miller, the screech of a solid drag as he underlines his name.

“I know I’m not who you all were suspecting.” He begins, placing the chalk down, hand wrapping around a balled fist as he cracked his knuckles, walking slowly until he can lean against the edge of his desk, soles of his shoes squeaking against the floor.

“And I’ll admit, I’m new to this,” He waves vaguely around the room, “I’m used to public school and the shittiness that comes with that—so I hope that if I can take this seriously, you all can extend that gesture too.”

You notice how comfortable he seems in group settings, relaxing his broad shoulders as he crosses his arm, glancing around the room casually, never lingering for too long.

“I won’t pester you too much today, given I already wasted some of your time,” Someone snickers softly toward the back of the room and Mr. Miller cracks a subtle smirk, seemingly embarrassed but not offering anything to pick at. “But, I’m willing to answer any questions you have while we have the time today.”

Questions flow in easily: what the semester would consist of, more elaboration outside of the syllabus, some of Mr. Miller’s favorite pieces of literature—part of you expects him to inject the usual ‘around the room introduction’ scheme, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans into the more engaging questions asked, answering as freely and as interested as he can.

He loves Robert Frost, which makes sense. You’re not sure why, but it is predictable. 

He is predictable. Sipping on a large mug of what you can only assume is coffee, the smell permeating toward you with where he’s resting against his desk, only a foot or so away. You haven’t managed to catch his gaze yet, which you’re partly thankful for. It allows you to study him, examine his expressions—admire…No.

And while he can continue his talk about favorite authors for days—the class draws to a close sooner than you expect, and you move lazily as most of the class disperses at the first opportunity with it being their final class of the day.

You’re throwing your bag over your shoulder when you hear his voice, addressing the only other person in the room.

You.

“Intimidating?” Your face screws up in confusion, head tilting his way as your eyes connect for the first time. “Oh, uh—sorry, I’ve just been doin’ this a while. I can tell when someone is anxious in class.”

And, while it wasn’t necessarily anxiety—it was more the idea of adjusting. This was new, this place wasn’t familiar and you were just trying to settle in. Mr. Miller seemed like the guy to have deep roots planted into these grounds, familiar with this town like he’s been here his entire life.

He has, but that wasn’t the point.

“No,” You answer indifferently, shrugging your shoulders, “I think your radar might be a little off.”

Joel chuckles softly, tapping his fingers against the leather cover of his bag as he leaned the tops of his thighs against the edge of his desk, “You know—you didn’t partake much in class discussion just now.”

You weren’t sure where he was driving his point, gradually stepping toward his desk, fingers wrapped around the straps of your bag, pulling against the tight material of your shirt as it stretched over your breasts, “And you were about—fifteen minutes late, too.”

Touche. He nods, lips pursed together.

“Just, fair warning—class discussion is a good chunk of your grade, participation and all that. I want you to feel comfortable enough to join in so…however I can help with that.”

Your eyebrows knit together, thoroughly thrown off by his forwardness—or well, so you assumed. He quickly realizes his misstep.

“No—not like…I mean, if there’s anything that you like or are interested in that you want covered over the semester, let me know. I don’t want it to be so focused on stuff that only appeases a few people. Alright?”

You think on his words, chewing at your bottom lip quietly. 

He doesn’t know why he feels like he’s standing on the edge, waiting impatiently for your response—but when you do, it feels like he can breathe. Joel didn’t want to fuck this job up and he already felt like he’s stepped off on the wrong foot.

“Alright.” You confirm simply, nodding politely. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

He nods in response, the smallest twitch of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Have a good day.” He bids kindly, waving at you haphazardly as you left.

And now the day felt even weirder than when it started.

-

The first few weeks of class are actually…a delight. You find yourself looking forward to them as the weeks grow on and drag out, slowly making your way through the day and finding that Mr. Miller’s was the only class you could successfully relax in, not so pressure to participate because it was as equally engaging on both ends.

Mr. Miller liked to talk and argue just as animatedly as most students who had a point to prove—and you see why he must’ve been hired on a whim, the ability to charm and wit himself in and out of any scenario he wanted. It was…mesmerizing in a way that intoxicated you and infected your body and mind. He had you locked in every time he opened his mouth, finding your eyes dragging along the planes of his face and his well-kept appearance now that he arrived on time, sharp. Never early, never late. 

He was as punctual as they come, slowly littering his classroom with more and more personalization. More literature books, smaller books of poems, packets of some of his favorite script writings and a few non-fiction pieces he thought to be intriguing. 

But, the most interesting thing you notice is the small tan line around his ring finger. The advantage of the small classroom allowed for such details to be revealed, alongside knowing when he had taken a certain morning to do a fresh shave of his facial hair or spill a small spattering of coffee against his shirt, dull brown staining the white, crisp button-up he usually dawned alongside the occasional navy blue or black.

So, he was married—you assumed. He just didn’t wear his ring.

The more you indulged in him, the more complex he seemed. The ever mysterious J-something Miller, finding that no matter how hard you looked you couldn’t seem to find any information on him or an inkling of what his first name might be.

He must be a private person—no socials, no good deeds leading to news articles about him, or anything of tangible evidence to allow such information to seep out to the public. He was good at hiding, integrating himself in places he might not belong. He was a natural chameleon, much like yourself.

And you’d like to think you were good at writing considering you were attempting to pursue a career in it, mostly focusing on the aspect of screenwriting and film, not entirely sure what you were after but knowing that was where you wanted to go. You were great at convoluting things and empowering your far too creative imagination—often dangerous. You were never lacking in ideas, but your first assignment is a struggle.

It was something pertaining to non-fiction, a boring topic that Mr. Miller wanted to be intrigued by—he wanted something so mundane to be eye-catching and page-turning. Hanging on the edge of his seat, as he’d said so menacingly.

So, here you were, writing about the monogamous lives of certain breeds of penguins and they’re mates—whatever the fuck that was all about. It’s like he picked obscure topics for this very reason, the difficulty and the need for assistance. He wanted to help and you learned that quickly.

You could’ve been stuck with global warming, so it wasn’t all that bad. 

Mr. Miller is leaning against an empty desk as he’s talking to a student a few desks away—yeah, the unlucky one who snagged the global warming topic. His expression is sour, tapping his pencil against the desk rapidly as Mr. Miller talks quietly, nothing that you can make out. He travels around the room gradually, eventually landing on you with a raised eyebrow, seeing that you had some, if not very little outlined.

He looks amused, knowing how you were pulling an absolute fat nothing over this topic. You could sit there and lay out the facts, but that’s not what he wanted. He wanted it to be explained in a way that held you close and dragged you along. It all came down to wording, at the end of the day, and as much as you wanted to prove you were a decent writer, you still had a lot to learn.

“This is so stupid,” You gripe, looking up at him briefly before you continue to stare daggers into the notebook you were scribbling in, “—pardon my language, but what the fuck is this topic?”

Mr. Miller chuckles deeply at that, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.

“I’ll let that slide but try not to make it a habit,” He comments, acknowledging your foul language and understanding the frustration, “—it’s meant to challenge you. The obscurity of it. It’s not complicated, but you don’t want to just write a research paper.”

“Isn’t that…exactly how non-fiction works?” You ask curiously.

“You’ve read biographies, right? Auto-biograhpies and all that?” 

You nod quietly.

“And I’m sure some of that caught your intention, right?” He asks and you respond with another nod, though meeker than before. “Non-fiction work is just as important as story-telling. Do some more research, explain why monogamy is sacred to them, explain their mating patterns, the behaviors—are you following?”

“Yeah—because some penguins mate for life, right?” You ask, feeling ridiculous asking him such an obscure question. “At least, I thought they did.”

“Most do.” Mr. Miller nods, “If you find yourself learning enough about the topic and actually finding some interest it won’t come out so…bland. Just look into it and write something you’d find intriguing to read, don’t stress over it that much. It’s just one assignment.”

It eases your worries slightly, but still, the frustration stuck.

“Okay,” You mumble, “Thank you.”

Mr. Miller offers a soft pat to your forearm as he nods silently in acknowledgment.

You were determined to make that assignment your bitch. Plain and simple.

-

Class discussion days are much easier. You switch between a certain selection of poems to snippets of scripts that Mr. Miller has pulled apart for the class to dissect and mince the words, learning how to write screenplays in a way that was both descriptive but directive and still managed to somehow keep the flow. Poems always seemed a little silly, but it was nice to debate the meanings and nuances of it all, always finding that you preferred to sit back and hear the thoughts of others until Mr. Miller decides he’s had enough one day—two months into the semester when he finally calls on you directly.

It was something he didn’t do often, but you find yourself going wide-eyed. He was always so polite to you, even when he’d catch you staring or lingering on his form for a moment too long, like he knew what you were thinking.

He was tall and—as was glaringly obvious, broad. His shoulders were immense and large as he extended his hands out and talked animatedly, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, slacks stretching over taut, tight muscle as he planted a foot in a nearby chair or stretched his stance out slightly as he stood—often finding it hard to stay still the longer class drew on.

You pull your attention to him, an innocent gaze glazing over your features.

“Why don’t you read the next poem?” He asks curiously.

“Oh—um,” Your eyes flick toward the poem book held tight in your grip, flitting to find the the place where the class last left off, so distracted you find yourself scrambling, but Mr. Miller is quick to lean over without much show or way of embarrassing you, pointing out the spot where the class last left of, blunt nail scratching against the paper as you follow the trail of his finger, you clear your throat and start:

“How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.”

The point was to interpret the words and form an explanation for why they were used, what they were trying to explain, but you lose any sense of thought when your eyes drag up to meet Mr. Miller and he’s staring right back, allowing you all the attention in the world.

Like no one else in the room existed. It was all a delusion in your own head, something you weren’t privy to then, but you believed whole-heartedly in the moment. He was just allowing you the floor and sharing you the same attention he had with everyone else. 

At least, that’s what he tried to do.

Mr. Miller clears his throat to subtly bring you back down to earth when he notices your mind fleeing from your body, asking an easy, “So, what do we think about this one?”

No one answered, staunchly disinterested as they stared at you, waiting for a response as you were the only one who had avoided participating all day.

“Uh, it—it sounds like the love isn’t being returned,” You start slow, dissecting the words in your brain as Mr. Miller nods, “but that person is willing to show up and offer more to make up for it, maybe even to their own…undoing, I guess.”

“There’s really no right or wrong,” He addresses the class as a whole but pointedly acknowledges your observation, “and that’s the best thing—you’re allowed to think as individuals and come up with your own conclusions. Good job.”

The final part is directed at you. It makes you feel warm, gooey—like you were being given a star for good behavior or gentle praise under the guise of friendly language.

You despise how hard it is to stay focused some days with how often Mr. Miller likes to pick on you and point you out—but he sees potential there. Real potential. Not to say that it isn’t within the rest of the class, he just sees…more. And it intrigues him in a way that feels dangerous, but he wants to ensure that you are given the proper support needed, even if that means a little extra attention.

It was harmless, after all.

-

Your first big assignment comes three months into the semester.

It’s a simple writing assignment but tactful and heavy, given a week to complete it before you were due to turn it in for a final grade. A collection of self-written poems, the outline for a possible script idea for a scene, and a small creative writing assignment that must include some kind of supernatural element. You appreciate the Mr. Miller never allowed things to lay stagnant with his work, always giving you something to think about.

And everyone loved him, that much was blatantly obvious. He was, easily, one of the hottest professors at the college for someone his age—you could only assume he was somewhere in his late 40s. But, there remained the unknown of if he was married, something people debated often, but you examined in the privacy of your own mind.

There was no indication of another—no pictures lingering on his desk as his classroom continued to collect belongings, no screensaver on his phone or laptop (because yes, you were observant) that gave you any idea of what his partner looked like. And he never mentioned anything outside of his own interest in literature. The curiosity with no discovery was only slightly disappointing, because despite that, Mr. Miller showed his attention toward you like you were the only person in the room.

And maybe it was like that for everyone, but it felt special to you. There was always a little extra to give to you that he didn’t offer to everyone else.

You turn in your assignment a few minutes before it is due, well into the late hours of the night.

-

Mr. Miller, unbeknownst to you, smiles when he sees the notification on his computer as he sits in his office at home, scrolling down the deep troves of porn in the darkened space, quickly clicking away to another browser as he hears the door creak, his wife poking her head through the crack with a smile.

“Hey, it’s late—you comin’ to bed soon?” Tess asks, eyes ringed with a deep exhaustion.

Joel nods, scratching at the side of his face, blinking tiredly. 

“Yeah. In a bit,” He excuses, “Just tryin’ to catch up on these assignments and then I’ll be done.”

It’s a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Things had been rough since the affair—finding that Tess had been sleeping with her boss at her law firm for a few months, something she swore meant nothing, despite how long it dragged on in secret. Joel forgave her, mostly. They were managing, attempting the idea of marriage counseling, but he still couldn’t bring himself to put his wedding band back on, despite how proudly she wore hers still.

He had his own reservations on the matter and while he was trying to work things out, he wasn’t sure they could ever resume the same rhythm they had before, thinking that this was something he had for life, slowly crumbling and falling between his fingertips.

This was why he needed a change of pace, something different.

And maybe he was stupid for entertaining the obvious affection you showed toward him—he definitely was, but he does it anyways. It was playful, so meaningless and harmless that he didn’t even think twice about it. He could see you craved the attention and while he couldn’t be bothered to save that energy for Tess anymore, he could try to offer it to you.

Because you—you had so much potential. It was refreshing, seeing so much of his younger self in you, drive and dedication. The willingness to question stuff without fear.

He clicks on the email notification with your assignment, opening in a separate browser as he rises to lock his office door quietly, before returning to his other browser as he sat and unbuckled the thick leather belt around his waistband, a dignified zip that echoes throughout the confines of the office, reverberates and reminds him of his own loneliness.

And he shouldn’t picture your face as he finds himself aching and fucking deseprate into his fist, soft gunts muffled behind clenched teeth. But, he does. And he loves it.

He’s so fucked.

-

The comments on your assignment come a few days later, curled up in your bed in the small apartment you rented out, scrolling desperately to find out any further information on Mr. Miller but coming up with absolutely nothing. What a fucking ghost he was.

You’re curious, though—so you quickly switch to your emails to check his response and what your grade ended up being after how hard you worked to make sure it turned out perfect. Better than perfect actually. You hoped that with his obvious relationship woes he would appreciate the angst and underlying meanings in your poems, a bunch of bullshit you couldn’t relate to but hoped, on a whim, that he might.

‘Way to press on the idea of heartbreak, well done. Very expressive and real. Thank you for pouring those feelings into your work, though I hope no one has ever broken your heart that bad. Wonderful job.’

And he scores you a 90/100.

Which—whatever. You could accept it. Still, you wondered if those lingering ten points lied with him and his own bitter dealings. You’re fingers are curled around the laptop, ready to close when you get another notification blaring through your speakers.

You lift the laptop to stare at the screen, seeing an email come in from an unknown sender—though, the name grabs your attention immediately. First name, last name, followed by a series of number you can only assume is a birth year—not the school email Mr. Miller had previously sent you a response from.

You perk up, legs crossing over each other as you take a peek at the contents of the glaring email, seeing that it had links to a few books, followed by:

‘I hope you don’t mind my emailing you like this. But, I have a few pieces I think you may enjoy and would help with some of what you’re trying to convey in your writing. You have a beautiful way of expressing feeling and you should harness that. Let me know what you think. :)’

In hindsight, Joel should’ve never sent it. But, there was an urge there he couldn’t fight.

Maybe it was out of spite for his life and his wife betraying him, his urge to try and do some real good for someone, seeing that potential in you no matter how inappropriate it may be to go around school ruling and message you from his private email.

But, now you had a sliver of information. A peek into who Mr. Miller—Joel Miller, was.

It sends you down a spiral, searching and scouring for any information available online.

You find out that he’s 48…or 49, not entirely sure of his actual birthday. Only going off the year designated in his email. And that he’s a published author, but nothing of significance. He used to be a high school teacher and he was…or is, married. It’s all vague and unassuming, but it has your mind stirring. Wondering what was so interesting about him, what part of him had crawled into your mind and refused to get out.

And him messaging you on a private email—complimenting you with unnecessary eagerness, even when it wasn’t needed. You can’t be this delusional. There’s something there, even if neither of you have spoken on it explicitly.  

The faint touches and smiles traded, the hard-gazed looks and glances over his shoulder as he does a sweep of the room, always spending just a smidgen of extra time over your desk when you ask for help. 

It makes you feel special. And that’s exactly what you need.

-

You fall asleep that night with a wild idea in your head, wondering just how brave you could be in this situation. It burrows into your mind and seeps into your dreams:

You’re pressed against the edge of a desk in a dark office, the solid wood pressed flat against your cunt as you lean forward and capture the lips of the person in front of you, a shaky breath coming from their mouth.

“Want that pretty mouth ‘round my cock.” He says—your heart skips, nearly stops. 

You don’t know why you’re surprised to hear Joel’s voice, but it clears your mind and his hazy face finally comes into view in all of it’s intricate detail, right down to the soft crinkle of skin around his eyes, eyebrows furrowed as he pulls away to look at you, lips puffed from the kissing and seeming so innocent as he spoke in such a depraved manner.

Delicate fingers drag along the shape of your lips, stopping at your cupid’s bow before he’s pressing two fingers inside, grabbing the hand relaxed at your side and pressing it over the front of his slacks, the hard line of his cock pressing against the zipper.

There’s no other word to offer than intimidating, his size morphing any idea that you might’ve had–which, you did. His slacks are well-tailored, form fitting, and if he stretched just the right way in class you could see the head or outline of his cock press against the fabric for a split second….and you observed. A lot.

“Wanna stuff your mouth, huh?” He asks, eyes rolling back as his fingers press down on your tongue, quickly pulling out as he grips your face, spit spreading across your cheek, gasping at the suddenness of his movement. “Think it’ll fit?”

He sounds so condescending, eyeline over you but downcast on your figure from where your perched against his desk, idle hand exploring the soft, plush skin of your thighs as he drags his fingers along the full expanse of your cunt and it sets your whole body on fire, like you’re feeling everything dialed to an impossible level, every nerve in your body coming to life.

You shake your head meekly, gasping when he yanks you forward suddenly.

“Guess we’ll have to train that filthy mouth then, won’t we?” His eyebrow quirks up salaciously, earning a less than subtle grin as he presses his fingers into the wet spot of your underwear, not breaking the barrier but allowing you to feel the pressure.

And just as you feel yourself grabbing onto something tangible, hands gripped in the lapel of his suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer, you’re startling awake with a gasp.

You could feel your imagination mixing with reality, falling lazily back against your bed as your chest heaved hurried breaths, palms pressed over your chest in an effort to calm down, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The room was hot, too hot to feel comfortable anymore.

Your lip pulls between your teeth, chewing thoughtfully at a bad idea.

You reach blindly for your laptop laid out near the end of your bed, opening the device with a swiftness, squinting at the blinding screen that burned at this time of night.

Nearly two in the morning—this was pointless.

But, you hit reply on his email anyways and slowly type out a response.

‘Thank you for noticing, Mr. Miller. It’s greatly appreciated and I will definitely look into those sources and give you a full, detailed review. :) I appreciate you thinking of me as someone so esteemed. I would love to talk more about literature, if that feels appropriate.’

The lines were already blurred. He’d blurred them. You were just smudging them a little more.

You never said that starting fresh meant you had to stay on your best behavior. Because really, there was nothing innocent about what game was developing between you both.

It was a game of chess and you felt a million moves ahead, nearing a checkmate—and you would do anything to have Joel Miller in the way you craved. Anything.

[readingcherik]

Erik/Charles AO3 Fic Recs: Part 1

shamelessly adding some of my favorite fics that I've read and posted on this blog already, but they'll be all in one place. some may be familiar or well-known, but hopefully, there will be some that are new.

if you visit this blog on desktop, you can filter by 'favorites' to find all my favorite fics at once; but for those on mobile, hope this helps!

Do You Love Me by cgf_kat

Summary: Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon. ReadingCherik Notes: Warnings for mpreg. One of the first Cherik fics I read, and I still think about it. Very well thought out plot with characters that we all love sprinkled in via wonderful ways. If you love a good apocalyptic fic, definitely recommend.

The stars incline us, they do not bind us by ikeracity & Pangea

Summary: Intergalactic Federation pilot Lieutenant Charles Xavier is assigned last-minute to a high profile mission: transporting over two thousand prison inmates from an old and overfilled prison complex to a newer, higher-capacity prison stronghold located on the outer reaches of the galaxy. Just as he's settling down for a long and uneventful ride, things take a turn for the worse after the inmates riot and stage a hostile takeover of the ship, leaving Charles to find himself at the complete mercy of cold-blooded killers and facing the chilling prospect that he might not ever make it back home alive. ReadingCherik Notes: Warnings for dub-con and non-con. These two authors are powerhouses on Cherik ao3, and putting them together created this beautiful masterpiece. Moments in this fic are heavy and tough, so if physical angst and hurt aren't you're thing, perhaps pass this one up.

The Courtship by danveresque

Summary: A story about a courtship that began five hundred years ago. ReadingCherik Notes: I cannot describe how much I love this fic. It's a reincarnation fic where the two main characters Erik and Charles are related to their old ancestors Magneto and Professor X. This fic tackles the age old question of, "If given another try, would things be different?", and this author paints a beautiful picture on the route to breaking the cycle of Magneto and Professor X's souls. 11/10, must read.

Space Jam by Pangea

Summary: Prince Charles Xavier is Deputy Commander of the TEF Heartsteel and the newest mission they've been assigned starts out less than desirable and quickly goes downhill from there. It's alright, though, he'll cope. It doesn't help, though, that he's in unrequited love with his best friend and Commander of the Heartsteel, War-Prince Erik Lehnsherr. ReadingCherik Notes: Another Pangea fic, but this one reads completely differently. Very fun, very light, and the tone of this fic is just a breath of fresh air. There are many fics in this series, this being the first; so if you want a lighthearted yet plot-filled fic, I'd recommend.

The World Outside Was Hungry by tzigane & Zaganthi (Caffiends)

Summary: He supposed that he wasn't the only member of the psychology department who heard voices, nor was he the only one who did not attribute it to illness. ReadingCherik Notes: Erik and Charles meet as teenagers. This is their love story with a twist that is so well-written. Closely related to the comics, but even without reading them, I understood. Great, great fic.

How deep is the ocean, how high is the sky by Kworei

Summary: Young Charles and Magnus on a date on a summer evening. ReadingCherik Notes: This fic was just so touching and warm when I first read it that it immediately became a favorite. Once again, aligns with the comics; and it's just pure joy with two young mutants who love each other.

Lift me from my preconceptions by LimerenceKing

Summary: Online dating is hard enough, but being both mutant and disabled made it much harder for Charles. He thinks he finally finds someone, and sets out to go on a date with her. // Author here, I’m disabled and I’ve seen a few fics try this sort of story, but I’ve decided to give it ago with my help from my own perspective. Here’s an actual disabled Charles fic for you :) ReadingCherik Notes: This fic, oh god, this fic. So good, so well-written, so important. I feel like we don't get this perspective enough in fics, and there's always a time and place for it; and this author just blew me away. Excellent fic.

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours by madneto & Pangea

Summary: Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it. Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people. ReadingCherik Notes: This is a Fifth Element AU, and I love love love that movie; and this fic does it so much justice. Quirky just like that film, similar in all the right spots and different everywhere else.

[melobin]

hello !!

so it’s been brought o my attention that over the past few weeks an account has practically been spreading hate about @01zfan without directly tagging her. i’ll post the screenshots with the dates the posts were posted underneath the read more.

i understand that people may look at me and accuse me of being an ot6, just like they have before and at this point im not bothered? i know im an ot7 and the people i care about do. i got into riize just before they debuted and i’ve always loved and supported seunghan, but i’ll support my friends more if they’re being unfairly attacked over him.

at the end of the day we all want the same thing for seunghan and spreading hate about people and calling them “closeted ot6’s” isn’t going to get shit. ninona has explained on countless occasions why she doesn’t write for seunghan and i respect her for it, i understand it. she’s never spoke badly about him nor has wished for him to not return. whilst this is something we would have wanted to speak to the blog about, their asks and their replies are turned off and it only makes me think they don’t want to deal with the consequences of what they’re doing. it’s a shame i care more about the well being of a friend than the cowardliness of a blog actively posting hate about them.

@ohmark dawg this isn’t the way to go about getting seunghan back and you know it. you’re unnecessarily spreading hate about blogs who have never spoke ill of seugnhan, you’re “closeted ot6” theory seems more like paranoia that people don’t like him when they have stated they do. we would have left you be if you simply posted hating on sm and wishing for his return but instead you dedicated your blog to spreading hate about other blogs and that’s not something i’ll ever be able to stand for.

please continue under the read more. i love you all forever and i appreciate you taking the time to read this. please don’t send anyone hate over this, i just feel as if people need to be aware of what’s going on and the hate that’s being spread.

8th august

personally, from the opinion of a ot7 riize writer, i literally see nothing wrong with this. even i struggle with headcanoning seunghan. in another ask ohmark stated that they don’t understand that mentality because it’s fanfiction and you cannot portray them in an accurate light but what they fail to understand is that what we write, when we write for these idols we base it off of their personalities, something we’re slowly seeing more of from riize overtime. something we didn’t get a lot of with seunghan. i’ll be the first to admit it’s miles easier to write for the other members because i feel as if i know more about them. it’s not about knowing them personally, it’s simply just about knowing things about them and we don’t know half as much about seunghan as we do for the other members.

even now she gets asks asking why she doesn’t write for him, she’s gotten countless hate asks that she’s deleted wishing death upon her, insulting her writing and being racist towards her.

this ask was sent just a few hours before ohmark had posted a screenshot of her reasoning for not writing for seunghan. what’s the need? even if she did state she didn’t like seunghan, why spread so much hate? if you dislike something so much, just block the person it’s not difficult at all. nothing about this is okay at all, it never has been and it never will be. i think it’s utterly fucking disgusting if you ask me!

last night they posted this, most likely due to the instagram upload that was posted by instagram. it’s upsetting seeing him being left out of their milestones but this? this isn’t it.

20th august

they could have either not added the @ 01zfan. the post would have been find without it, i would’ve respected it and if it came up on my dash i would have interacted with it. but they had to ruin it by being unnecessarily hateful toward two individuals who has nothing to do with seunghan’s hiatus or his return.

bonus !! not to mention people who active follow and reblog ninona’s things are also reblogging hate posts about her which is insane to me … you’re either against her for choosing not to write for seugnhan or you like her … reblogging a fic and following ninona yet reblogging hate about her is crazy.

[antihell]

　𖤐　belial’s writeblr intro (v4.0)　𖤐

hello, i’m belial ( they/any ) and this is my writeblr! you may have previously spotted me under the urls belialwrites or motelbf, but antihell will be my final resting writing place for a bit. i’m 34 ( nearly 35 ) and an academic editor but i love to write new adult fiction and poetry. i have too many universes in my head with a multitude of characters and usually little to no direction for the plot progression. i do an unhealthy amount of planning, aesthetics, and character development compared to getting words down, but i enjoy it. i’m an insomniac that is always online, so please ask for my discord if you ever need a springboard to bounce ideas off of or to listen to you work through details in your wips and ocs! also, please send me an ask or dm if you’d like to be added to my general taglist and i’ll keep you updated on important things about my wips and their progress.

what’s on my blog? general inspiration, writing tips and reminders, motivational posts, and maybe even a little bit of the work i create (my writing, edits, and developmental ramblings on my wips)!

what do i write? usually i stay in the horror, thriller, paranormal, supernatural, or dark fantasy genres. i've also recently begun trying poetry. i also write fanfic for horror films/franchises and the bible. i have a lot of recurring themes and subjects in my writing, including

religion/humanity vs. morality/divinity;

liminal spaces & unsettling atmospheres of unreality;

psychological horror, usually focusing on mental illness & memory loss;

death & all that entails;

body horror, dread, & being left in the dark (literally or figuratively);

symbolism & trope subversion; and finally,

biological families vs. found families (including nature vs. nurture) !

　𖤐　links　𖤐

BELIAL — about me tag, favorite posts, my rambles, my writing, my wip intros, pinterest (remaking), spotify, wip page (its own wip lol)

COMMUNITY — boosts, my taglists, new writeblrs, others’ work

INSPIRATION — general, character, setting, ship, story

ETC. — manifesting, motivation, positivity, prompts, reminders, resources, tropes

　𖤐　main wip　𖤐

꒰ ᝰ ꒱　rose wound　—　( planning )

NA poetry anthology — ( description coming soon )

LINKS — intro, pinterest board, playlist, tag

꒰ ᝰ ꒱　twisted stitches　—　( re-working )

NA psychological horror — A college student named Oliver is forced to withdraw from university because of his progressively deteriorating mental health. He moves back to his parents’ house only to find that his childhood imaginary friend, Stitches, is still there. After a troubling series of events around town, Oliver begins to suspect that Stitches may be to blame.

LINKS — intro, pinterest board, playlist, tag

[acewritesfics]

Call Me Tommy | TOMMY SHELBY

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST. ⚠️

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Fic Type: Imagine.

Request: No.

Warnings: There's a little swearing. Rose is the name of Tommy and Reader's daughter, Caroline is the name of Rose's daughter (Tommy's and Reader's granddaughter) and Jennifer is the name of Caroline's Daughter (Tommy and Reader's great-granddaughter), hopefully that all makes sense. Grace and Charlie did happen but Lizzie and Ruby didn't because that would have added more confusion for me. There is also names for Reader's siblings. This isn't meant to be cannon in any way, shape, or form. ITALICS ARE FLASHBACK'S TO 1925 

Word Count: 1,969

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST

Jennifer walks into her elderly grandmother's room at the rest home. Though the 92 year old doesn't remember much from the last 60 years, Jennifer still loved visiting her Grandma Rose. She enjoys listening to the stories Rose tells her, ever since the young 30 year old woman was a child. Her Grandma Rose told the best stories and in the best way. And Rose never forgot telling them to her. It was one of her memories that refuses to fade. 

"Good morning, Grandma Rose," The young woman greets her grandmother with a warm smile and kiss to her cheek.  

"Good morning, Jenny," the elderly woman smiles, her eyes lighting up seeing her youngest grandchild, the one she's always been closest too and the only one who name hasn't left her mind. All her other grandchildren were familiar faces that didn't visit her as often as Jenny does. 

"How are you feeling today?" Jenny asks taking a seat across from her at the small table in her room. 

"About the same," she replies. "How's your mother?"  

Jenny's mother, Caroline, is Rose's second child and her first daughter. Her uncle, Rose's oldest and only son, died a few years ago from an illness and her younger daughter died when she was just a baby. 

"She's good, she's hoping to come see you next week," she informs her though she knows she won't remember it by time tomorrow comes. "She found something for me to show you," she reaches into her handbag, pulling out an envelope. Opening the envelope, she takes out the three photos that are inside and lays them on the table facing Grandma Rose. "Mum found these in the attic and thought you might like them." 

A smile graces Rose's lips as tears build up in her eyes looking at the photos with so much love that it makes Jenny feel emotional.  

The first photo was of a young woman who couldn't be much older than Jenny is now. The second photo is the same woman with a handsome man, on what looked to be their wedding day, instead of looking at the camera. They were gazing at each other with so much love and adoration it makes Jenny's heart melt. The third photo was the same couple, a little older, with a baby girl sitting on the woman's knee, and a boy who couldn't be more than 10 standing beside her as the man stood behind her with one hands on her shoulder and the other on the boys shoulder. 

"This was my mother, Y/N," Rose tells Jenny as she picks up the photo of the woman. "This was before she met my father. Her first husband died in the war. She was only 23. They weren't married more than 6 months. It took her a long time to want to love again and then my father came along. He was a widow himself, with a son, my half-brother Charlie. Do you remember your Uncle Charlie?" 

Jenny smiles fondly remember the elderly man that always snuck her treats as she grew up. He had passed five years ago. "He was a lovely man. You both never spoke much of your parents. How did they meet?" 

"My mother always said it was fate," She says, her eyes moving to the photo of the married couple as she picks it up. "They met back in 1925..." 

Y/N was growing frustrated with Adam, her older brother, as she stands in the only suit shop there is in Small Heath, Birmingham. The 34-year-old didn't want to be here in the first place but of course Adam needed a woman's opinion on the suit that was currently being tailored for him. She doesn't understand why he needed a new suit when he has plenty at home. He told her he didn't have a date or that he wasn't going any where fancy, that he just needs one and that should be enough of an explanation. 

Leaving Adam to be tailored, she looks around the ready made suits to see if she could find one she likes for him. Nothing in particular catches her eye. They all looked the same to her but she was no expert on fashion. If it hadn't been for their older sister, Edith, growing up, she wouldn't know how to dress herself appropriately, let alone someone else.  

"You would have been better off bringing Edith instead of me," she calls to Adam moving the suits along the rack, "Or better yet that girl you fancy. That's why you want the suit, isn't it?" 

"You really thought you were my first choice to bring with me?" he teases and winces after the tailor purposely pokes him with a needle. "Edith was busy with her children." 

Edith is almost forty and pregnant with her and her husband's 8th child. Y/N is lost on how Edith could do it, popping out babies all the time. Edith's oldest child, a boy who's 17-years-old, the youngest, a daughter, is 2-years-old. She's due to have her 8th baby in two months.  

"And the girl I fancy, is out of town for the week," Adam continues. "I know you don't understand this because you haven't put yourself out there in 10 years, but this suit is going to help me finally ask her on a date." 

"Is the suit going to ask her for you?" she teases her brother, earning a chuckle from the tailor.  

"For your information my dear little sister, suits give a man a certain confidence like a woman with a beautiful dress that was made just for her," he states confidently. "And at least I'm trying to date. You're almost 35, with no husband and no children, you're a spinster." He winces again as the tailor pokes him even harder this time. 

"I'm a widow actually. You're the one who's never been married," she growls at him coming to where he's standing. "Why is it okay for you men to sleep with any woman you want and not have to consider marriage or having a family? But when a woman my age isn't married with children, we're spinsters and unlovable?" She ignores the smirk on the tailor's face as she directs her glare at her brother. "You know what, you're on your own." 

She turns on her heel and goes to storm out the door when she bumps right into another person, almost knocking herself back on her bottom. Lucky for her, the person's hands find her waist stopping her from falling backwards. "I am so so-" 

She is cut off when her eyes connect with eyes so vividly blue that she could drown in them.  

"Sorry," she finishes barely above a whisper, as though the air in her lungs have gone.  

"Don't apologise," he tells her. "Are you all right?" 

She nods unable to find her voice. She's never met a man with such beautiful eyes. She feels herself enchanted by them. When he removes his hands from her, a coldness settles over her. It wasn't until then that she noticed how warmth she felt when he was touching her.  

Finding her voice, she decides to introduce herself, holding her hand out towards him. "My name is Y/N L/N." 

"Thomas Shelby," he introduces himself taking her hand in his, the warm feeling returning to her. "Call me Tommy." 

"Mr Shelby!" the tailor calls to the man in front of her. "I won't be a minute." 

Tommy nods towards the man, before looking back at Y/N. "It was lovely to meet you, Ms. L/N."  

"It was lovely to meet you too, Mr Shelby," she agrees. 

He gives her a small polite smile and moves past her to go towards the tailor. She watches him for a moment, taking him all in, from the way he walks to how he stands, to his mannerisms when he speaks and listens. She didn't know him at all but there was something about him that drew her in, and it wasn't just his beautiful ocean blue eyes. She finds herself wanting to know him and everything about him. Little did she know that he was feeling the same about her. 

It was at this moment, her brother, fully dressed joins her. "I'm sorry for what I said. I'm just worried for you, sister. I don't want you to end up like mother when father died. I don't want you to end up alone." 

"You don't need to worry about me," she tells him as Tommy's eyes connect with her own. She feels her heart skip a bit and her breath catch in her lungs but manages to look away from the handsome man, with his high cheek bones, plump lips and beautiful eyes. 

Her brother notices what's happening and lets out a small groan as he pulls her out of the suit shop "Of course the first man to take your fancy after 10 years is none other than Thomas Fuckin' Shelby." 

"You know him?" her gaze snaps to Adam as they walk towards their shared home.  

"How do you not know who he is?" he answers with his own question, looking at her like she's grown three heads. "Everyone from Birmingham knows who he is."  

"We're not from Birmingham, are we?" she scoffs. "So who is he?" 

"He's the fuckin' King of Birmingham. Leader of the Peaky Blinders."  

"Well, that just makes him even more interesting," she mumbles more to herself as she gazes back towards the shop, hoping to see another glimpse of the handsome gangster. 

"Your Great-Grandfather had quite the reputation in Birmingham, even in London. A lot of people would say he was ruthless, cold, demeaning and a lot of other bad words and he was those things but he was also very smart, caring, loyal and he loved my mother completely. She was his Queen and he treated her like one. Everything he did was for us and the rest of his family," Grandma Rose explains after telling the story of how her parents met. "You look him up on that computer thing you have, but don't believe everything you read. The coppers had it out for him and tried to make him out to be the worst human being they had met. But there was also someone out there much worse than him." 

"Do you think about them often?" Jenny asks her. 

She nods, "All the time, more so now since I'll be joining them and Charlie soon." 

"Hopefully not too soon," Jenny smiles sadly. The thought of losing her Grandma Rose breaks her heart. 

Rose reaches out to hold her granddaughter's hand. "I want you to keep the photos. They would love for you to have them. You look just like her." 

"My mother? I know." She gives her hand a gentle squeeze, hearing the words Rose always told her, more so now that she was losing her mind. 

"No, not Caroline. My mother, Y/N. You look just like her but you have my father's eyes. Those beautiful blue ones that could drown someone in them," Rose smiles and stands up from her chair. "I love you Jennifer, don't ever forget that." 

"I won't," Jenny says as she helps the elderly woman into her bed. "I love you too, Grandma Rose." She places a kiss to her cheek and goes back to the table, looking at the photos once more as she picks them up and puts them back inside the envelope.  

Jenny looks back to her grandmother who's already drifted off to sleep and smiles. She goes back over to her and places a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room, closing the door behind her. The first she decides to do as she leaves the rest home is to look up Thomas Shelby, her great-grandfather. 

CREDIT: Razorblade and dots dividers made by me. Peaky Blinders divider made by @/firefly-graphics. Support divider made by @/cafekitsune.

TAGGED: @forgottenpeakywriter | @rainydayteacups | @bernelflo

[countrymusiclover]

3 - Day with Aemond

Part 4

A Wolf Among Dragons

Tag list ( just ask to be added ) @tallrock35 @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea @immyowndefender @iamavailablesstuff

“I am going to miss you, dear daughter.” My father said weakly laying in his bed in his chambers at the very end of his illness that had fallen to him.

He had declared that I would be wed off to the king's brother to further our alliance with the South since me and my brothers were taught to never forget the oaths we had sworn to one another. “I don’t want to leave you, father. Not if this may be the last time I see you.”

“Stark’s don’t forget their oaths, daughter. We must keep our word even if those in the South may not do the same.” He declares to me while holding onto my hand that was tightly squeezing his.

Sniffing through tears I didn’t want to leave for a city I had never been to. Winterfell was my home. I didn’t want to be trapped inside a castle for the rest of my life. “I’m well aware father but - what if they change who I am? What if I no longer act like a Stark?”

“Stark’s don’t go down without a fight. They won’t destroy who you were raised to be. You will always be a Stark of Winterfell just like our words will always reign true.” My father Rickon coughed into his sleeve keeping a brave face when he spoke so strongly to me.

I recited our family words like it was a prayer. “Winter is Coming.”

“And we must protect ourselves. You must protect yourself when in their family. I won’t be there to protect you anymore so you must find a way to protect yourself.”

“I love you, father.” Kissing my fathers forehead I heard the chamber door creaking open meaning it was time for me to go to my new home and be wed to a dragon man. I wouldn’t let Kings Landing break me if I had anything to do about it.

Sitting underneath one of the Godswood trees simply reading a book quietly to myself. Flipping the page over I didn’t even notice someone walking up to me so ingrained in mh reading till the person spoke up. “Fancy meeting you here, Lehna.”

“My prince - uh Aemond forgive me. I wouldn’t have imagined you ever taking a stroll in these woods.” I admitted clearing my throat remembering the arrangement we had made about simply addressing each other by their first name with no titles being used.

He teased me with a smirk on his face. “Are you saying a prince cannot have other interests? That we can only be interested in swords and our next fight rather than enjoying a stroll through the trees.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, my prince. In my experience most men, including my lord husband, don't care much for the scenery.”

Aemond nodded, putting his arms behind his back. “Normally I don’t stroll through the gardens but I thought it would be a good change after sparring in the courtyard. From our conversation the other day with your daughter I have already noted that not too many ladies of the court carry a sword so it seems we’re both even when it comes to not following society's rules.”

Sending him a genuine smile I met his gaze. “I suppose you’re right about that.”

“What are you reading there?” His one good eye not covered with a black eye patch shifting downward to the open book seated in my lap.

“Princess Nymeria led her Rhoynar across the Narrow Sea on 10,000 ships to flee their Valyrian pursuers. She took Lord Mors Martell of Dorne to husband and burnt her own fleet off Sunspear to show her people that they were finished running.”

It was almost hard to catch whenever the prince was actually happy. He was always so reserved and kept a serious composure about himself to act like he felt absolutely nothing. Until this very moment that is when I saw a huge grin cross his features. “The Targaryen histories. What made you want to learn about my family history?”

“You wanted to know about my family. I figured I should do the same since I'm already wed into the Targaryen family. I even thought about trying to teach myself High Valyrian given the fact that Daemon hasn't yet.”

The dragon prince tilted his head. “What has he taught you then?”

“Perfected my ability to use a sword and not ride a horse side saddle like we're taught.” An idea popped inside my head thinking it would be fun to challenge him a little. “Have you ever rode a horse side saddle?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Would you do it if I dared you?”

He was clearly taken back by my question. “What are you asking me, Lady Lehna?”

“I propose we dare one another and whoever wins the most turns gets to pick what the loser has to do with them. What do you say?” I held up my right hand towards the prince.

He stepped closer, shaking my hand in his firmly. “Deal, lady Stark.”

We left the gardens and made our way through the keep until we ended up first in the kitchen. One of the kitchen workers brought us some hard ale in two big goblets before leaving me and the prince alone. Aemond reached for his cup being the first one to suggest a dare challenge. “Whoever can finish the whole thing wins.”

“Three, two, one, go!” I cheered and together we began quickly drinking from our separate cups at the same time. Daemon had me drink some ale in the city streets but never this quickly so I had to stop having a little bit left before I watched Aemond slam his remaining liquor down. “Seven hells! How can you do that so fast?”

He sat the cup down holding a hand to his head feeling a little dizzy from that much liquor. “Aegon had me get drunk with him when we became of age. I managed to do that for two rounds before it made me quite sick. I’ll never do something that ridiculous ever again - oh and it appears I’ve won.”

“Fine, fine, yes you win. Now it’s my turn.” Getting up from the chair I ran from the kitchen and he followed me to my chambers. Letting him inside my chambers where I shut the door and headed over rummaging around in my clothing closet grabbing a pair of heels that I assume might fit. “Put these on and try to walk from the door to the window.”

Aemond scowled back at me, eyeing the heels hanging from my hand. “I will not put those ridiculous shoes on.”

“Would you rather attempt to do needle work and prick your fingers a bunch of times?” I challenged him. “Or are you a chicken refusing to do either.”

Aemond glared at me with one good eye. “Watch your words.”

“You weren't hurt me, not intentionally anyway.” I responded surprisingly not afraid of him putting his hands on me. “There’s a good person in you from where I'm standing.”

He crossed the room taking the heels from my hand and undoing his boots slipping them on. He stumbled across the room and fell on his knees hallway in the middle where he gave up causing me to laugh before he glanced over his shoulder at me. “You win, Stark. But don't you ever tell anyone about this.” I helped him up off the ground and he switched back to his shoes waiting outside the room for me to change into a tunic and trousers rather than attempting to fight in a gown.

We had one more challenge given that it was whoever won out of the three. Aemond and I had agreed on the last one being sword fighting given that me speaking good High Valyrian would take far too long and he’d obviously win. He drew his sword first before I drew mine and we got into a fighting stance. We took some swings that caused our swords smack against each other before gently shoves me backwards in the training yard. "What would the people of court think about this? A highborn lady fighting their prince?" I grunt, taking another swing at him.

He swung back circling me to make our sword press against one another for a moment. "I don't care what the court public think and neither should you." He steps back a little sword still raised as I get back in a fighting stance.

I raise my sword trying to strike him but he lightly elbows me in my side to strike me from below. I switch my sword to my left hand for a moment to knock him away. "Your form is better than I thought it would be."

"Thanks -uh!" I grunted out, pressing my sword against his. He pressed his sword against mine, never losing gaze with mine.

He started to loosen his hold on his sword when we pushed the other back but suddenly he knocked my sword from my left hand, knowing we both are dominant in our right hands. I dodge his next attack to reveal a dagger from inside my boot and block his sword coming down on me.

"Impressive, very impressive indeed." He parts his lips when I push his sword down getting up from being on my knees.

“Thanks for the compliment. But you still are a better swordsman than I, so you win. Two for two. So what will we be doing?” I slipped the dagger hidden back into my hidden spot.

Aemond stepped closer to me with both our swords swaying when our bodies moved. His eye lowered down to meet my soft eyes as he softly whispered. “Have you ever rode on Dragonback?’

“No, I haven’t.” I nervously gulped not sure if he was being serious or not.

Aemond simply replies. “Then that's what I want to do with you. I want you to ride Veghar with me.”

[valkyyriia]

Hello I hope not to bother I only recently discovered your blog and saw your request open Please can I have Vlad x MC with Established relationship and prompts Lazy morning Rain Domestic

Thank you 🙏🙏

I wish you wobderful day ❤❤

Hellotrope and Yellow Tulips

Words: 406 CW: None | SFW Tags: Sleepy Fluff, No Dialogue, Suitor-Centric Prompt: Vlad + Lazy Morning + Rain + Domestic Pairing: Vlad / Reader

Note: No worries! I hope you have a great day too! This prompt hit the inspiration immediately so I kinda just went for it. I hope you enjoy!

In Victorian Flower Language, Hellotrope signifies eternal love and devotion. Yellow tulips signify the sunshine in a smile. I thought both of these were fitting. Taken from the Farmer's Almanac here.

Heavy raindrops pounded against the tall windows of the castle.

Vlad, ever the early riser, had been awake since before the downpour began. He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes fluttered in your sleep; he felt the gentle puffs of your breath against his neck.

Vlad smiled tenderly, brushing an errant hair from your face. He was careful not to wake you with his touch.

He had planned to take you with him to sell flowers today; Vlad adored the sunny smile on your face when you saw how happy his flowers made people. Truth be told, Vlad adored every expression you made. Your smiles were his favorite, of course, but he loved how expressive you were. You wore your emotions plainly, almost like a badge of honor. He wouldn't have you any other way.

Your indiscriminate honesty was one of your most endearing features. Your unceasing optimism, the way you encouraged him and others so passionately and without care for how it may come across; you were the most beautiful flower her had ever seen, both inside and out.

Vlad's gaze drifted to the large windows on the far wall. The rain was coming down hard. It had started off as a slow drizzle, but had steadily strengthened into the maelstrom currently beating against the ground. What little was visible of the sky was painted a dark grey, the occasional tendril of lightning flashing amidst the clouds.

No, they definitely were not going to go into town today. He would not take a chance on you falling ill.

His pale red eyes dropped back to your sleeping figure. His demeanor softened impossibly further, seeing the way your hair splayed out over the pillows and the adorable pout that graced your lips.

At one point, Vlad would have done anything to save the future. Nowadays, Vlad would do anything to protect your smile.

He drew you closer to his chest, tucking your face against his neck. You relaxed instantly, clinging to him in your sleep.

He could take you out to town any day of the year. Vlad would do just about anything you wanted, so long as you asked for it. Any desire you expressed, Vlad would ensure it came to pass.

For now, though, Vlad was content to spend this dreary, rainy morning holding you close and cherishing the memories you've made and those yet to come.

Taglist: @natimiles

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

[redwolfstabs]

ALPHAWOLFSTABS - BILLY

gifs not mine ~ Through cuts and wounds it often flows, In whispers only blood bestows, A story etched in shades of red, Of every tear and word unsaid.

Meet the Blogger:

Howdy, hello, hi. My names Billy, He/Him pronouns only, I'm incredibly autistic so this is a friendly autistic space. DNI if you're a minor, no TERFs allowed, and basic DNI criteria.

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Writer, Gore Lover/Analysis, Billy Loomis Coded. You've been warned

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Disclaimer for my page:

18+

gore/violence

talks of abuse, sometimes

talks of drugs and alcohol, not often

mental illness

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I will always put warnings on what I post, always! I'll put warnings and a cut so everyone can avoid being triggered on my page. But please, do mind the tags I put and please stay safe here on my page. While things I talk about may be upsetting, I do not wish to upset or trigger anyone on here. Please please please, keep yourself safe on my page.

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My Fics:

Animosity: A pre-scream - current scream fic! Slow updating, very gay stuilly. A tad bit inspired by Sharps Debaser but it's not really all that similar, I assure you.

Crimson Moon: Stu discovers he's a werewolf and Billy needs to help him figure out how to navigate. [Unfinished/no longer being updated. However, Cereal occasionally draws Werewolf Stu, that's the art that inspired this. Go check that out]

Fangs Of Insatiable Longing: Vampire Billy, Human Stu. Billy has to learn to navigate this world, Stu helps him, still follows the plot of Scream with a few added things. Slow updates.

Shut My Brain Off, But Keep Me Breathing: Submissive Billy Loomis with Dom Stu, this one is very self indulgent.

The Vexation: A crack ship fic with Doug Van Housen and Billy Loomis. Slow updates.

To The Edge, Until We All Get Off: Sub Top Stu with Dom bottom Billy. It's Stu's birthday and Billy gets him a present, not super long but really nice.

You Like It Rough, But I Like It Rougher: Pure Smut, lots of blood and knives in this one. Be safe reading this.

Winged Insect, Funeral Pyre: Prison fic au, Billy is in prison but it's more of a rehabilitaion centre, focuses on his relationship with his mind, and the stupidly cute CO he likes a little too much.

JOYRIDE: Stuilly Week day one, bodyswap au, also short but fluffy

"Partner In Time": Stuilly week day two, timeloop au, Billy gets stuck in a timeloop and everytime he dies, he wakes back up in the kitchen with Sidney and Stu

Sailor Song: Stuilly week day three, ghost au. Billy lives after the massacre, Stu doesn't.

Domesticated.: Stuilly week day four, a survivor modern au, set in 2024. Not long, but it's purely fluff

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Up Coming Fics:

Malevolent Trinity: A soon-to-be Fic with Doug Van Housen + Stuilly. It will follow the plot of Scream, just with Doug added.

Unlikely Desires: A College Stuilly fic, in which Billy looks like Vincent from As Good As It Gets And Stu looks like like Tim LaFlour

Lost Years: A Team Loomis fic with Sam and Billy, Billy is alive and Sam kinda hates his guts but they get closer and become a good pair.

A Serpents' Song: A Fic sorta based around river dale, does include Stu.

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Requests:

I do take Drabble requests! If anyone is ever feeling up for me to write them something I will work on it slowly but surely. On top of that, I am starting Commissions soon for my fics. So if anyone is also up for that, keep it in mind for later down the road.

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Easy Links:

Stuilly Head Canons

Autistic Billy Loomis

Funny Scream Text Posts

Scream Script Thoughts

Drabbles

Poems

Stuilly Week 2024

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Additional:

My Carrd - This shows my name, my interests, and rules for my blog. :)

My Discord: Alphawolfstabs. Be careful

Letterboxd: AlphaWolfStabs or Here, Mostly horror movies to be honest. I am a Horror Movie nerd, I apologize

[finchswordmesses]

Literal First Tumblr Post, baybee

So, I saw a post on Bluesky, and it was so awful I made an entire ass Tumblr blog to talk about it.

The post shows a screenshot from an ad for an AI service. To save you all the trouble of going to a whole-ass other website, I'll transcribe the relevant bits of text from the ad, here:

"A.I. isn't just another tool - It will redefine how our world works. Why memorize facts, write code, research anything - when a model can do it in seconds? The best communicator, the best analyst, the best problem solver - is now the one that knows how to ask the right question. The future won't reward effort. It will reward leverage."

This is... wrong. And bad. The corners of the internet I frequent hate every bit of this sentiment, and so do I. The problem is, the place where my brain went is so ridiculously arcane I cannot possibly convey it in anything resembling 300 characters. So, I'm talking about it here.

Let me tell you a story about scurvy.

Part One: Scurvy and the "Scientists" who Rejected it

In the early days of the age of sail, there were a lot of things that doomed voyages. Storms, pirates, mutiny, those fucked up looking dragons everyone drew in the margins of the maps... sailing was a dangerous business. But among the many, many threats to long voyages was a new disease that seemed to exclusively affect sailors.

Scurvy is a specific form of malnutrition, caused by a prolonged deficiency in Vitamin C intake. It could happen to basically anybody who didn't eat enough fruits and vegetables, but the reason it happened to sailors had entirely to do with failures in logistics. Produce did not keep well, in an era before refrigeration, and alternative methods of preserving such things usually destroyed much of the nutritional value they held. Of course, sailors did not know that. Nobody did. Up until this point in history, there had never been reason to think that people could get sick from only ever eating hardtack every day.

In this time period, science wasn't exactly the same as it is today. Most scholars and doctors of the time were little more than nerds with large and expensive libraries. The prevailing attitude at the time was that learned men should defer to those who came before, that the oldest sources of knowledge were the purest and the closest to God, and therefore the most likely to be correct.

In that vein, your average doctor in the Age of Sail was likely to be some manner of adherent to humor theory. Humor theory was a whole rigamarole invented by Greek physicians that said that every malady in the body was due to a failure to keep your various fluids topped up. Citing the "learned sages" of ages past, doctors confidently proclaimed that this new disease was the result of an imbalance of blood, a torpor that could only be cured by increasing the afflicted's workload. Given that scurvy causes a person's body to slowly disintegrate on the connective tissue level, you can imagine how well that went.

Of course, science was being done. Several people were conducting early experiments, gathering testimony from sailors. Slowly, the idea was being introduced in academic circles that the cause was based in the poor diet of sailors, not a humor imbalance. Still, for years, the community at large clung to their old theories. After all, the Greek sages never said anything about fruits and vegetables as the cause, so why should that even be considered?

What those Age of Sail scholars failed to take into consideration was that the ancient Greeks had never encountered scurvy. At least, not to any extent that mattered. The Greeks lived on an archipelago and never strayed too far from shore. Not compared to the globe-spanning trade empires of the Old World. The first possible mention of scurvy wasn't until Roman times, when brief mention was made of soldier illness during long marches through the relatively barren African countryside. The world, by and large, had just never experienced the problem on this scale, because the world had never had to coordinate logistics on this scale, before.

This post is about A.I. tools.

Part Two: Digital Scurvy

Going back to that advertisement mentioned in the Bluesky post, the feeling that I got from it was very much that of the 16th century doctor. It seeks to push forward the idea that all the answers to every question you could have have already been found. Your job as a "learned sage" in our modern times is not to do research or to inquire or experiment. Your job is to efficiently parrot the knowledge of those that came before, to be the best at drawing forth the wisdom of your forebears.

"The greatest analyst," it says, "is one who knows how to ask the right questions." What is meant by that is not "asking questions in service to independent research." Instead, they mean "asking an AI chatbot the questions most likely to get it to pull the relevant information from its impossibly large database." It is a man in a library who has never gone to sea, but who has just the right Greek physician on hand who can explain humor theory to you.

Because this is the problem: what happens when the ancient sages are wrong? What if their information is faulty, outdated, or rooted in outmoded thinking? What if you try to ask the database the answer to a question it has never been asked, before?

What do you do when the new scurvy arises?

Part Three: The Reality

The vision, as promised, just can't happen. The whole of humanity cannot return to a backward-looking way of thinking, any more than the world's doctors could return to humor theory. Information will still need to be synthesized. Not just recited, not just regurgitated, but actually made, whole cloth.

If the world imagined by AI startups has any chance of not imploding on itself, then the end result will be a world of systematized stolen valor. Writers will still feel the pull to tell stories. Scientists will still perform experiments and research. Artists will still create and experiment and discover new philosophies in art.

The only thing that will change is that they will do so with the understanding that they will never be credited.

Somehow, someway, all their output will find its way into the databases. There, it will be snatched up by the "digital sages," who will proudly hold up their prize as one holds up a magnificent pearl, dredged from the sea floor. They will be lauded for their ability to navigate the databases, to petition the gods in just the right way as to earn their favor.

Meanwhile, the synthesizers will continue their work, forgotten.

Part Four: The Less Fun Reality

The true reality of this world would likely be even more bleak.

Creatives all over the world quickly learn to pull their content from electronic sources. Money is hard to earn for people in the arts, and having to share space with a machine that can spit their own output back at them at a quantity beyond mortal means makes the process less than impossible. What few artists remain successful do so in controlled venues. All viewings are in-person, and recording is tightly monitored. Physical media comes back into fashion, loaded down with any subtle measures the artists can think of to foil scans.

Science, meanwhile, grinds to a halt. Funding has long since been diverted to the sages. The credits on scientific papers, once considered a prestige and an honor, now becomes nothing more than a hollow gesture of ownership known only to a select few in an ever dwindling community. What few researchers hang on do so out of bloody-minded desire to change the world for the better. Their efforts are anemic and without support.

The sages, ensconced in their server farms, see none of this. Secure in their positions as the wisest and most powerful, they assert themselves as the ones with the answers to all of life's questions. The databases become filled with the wisdom of the sages that came before, information synthesized semi-randomly from past information. Soon the life of a digital sage is to quote the lessons imparted by other digital sages, in an endless Ouroboros.

The people do not question the sages, for the sages know how to ask the right questions.

And then, one day, when humanity has charted the stars, a new problem arises. Astronauts on the extremely long voyages in space are suffering from a new affliction, one that has never been encountered, before. Dutifully, the people turn to the sages. Dutifully, the sages make their pleas to the databases.

The databases speak.

"This new affliction is caused by a lack of Vitamin C."

[midnightcatharsis]

Liars- the worst kind of Astarion haters and fandom

I really didn't want to make my blog about Astarion haters and didn't want to make 3 long posts about them. Yet I've recently found such a contemptible individual I simply can't stay silent. I need to vent and paint a bigger picture. Especially since I can't properly do it in replies on yt as it's impossible to add images in yt replies and comments with links are usually either deleted or hidden. If you have read my 2 posts - yes this is the same person but I've obtained more pieces of information that create an alarming image of how this person thinks, operates and lies on purpose and blatant confirmation of my previous suspicions. I've also decided to share it because I believe we should be more aware of this new more malicious and vile type of haters. We all know how "normal" haters and stakebros continue to post hate, we mostly know their motivation. But I tell you this person is much more evil and sinister than them. I want to establish and confirm certain facts first because the singular comments of that person may seem innocent at first glance. It's only the bigger picture that shows how bad it is. If you prefer more chronological order that shows how they escalate: part 1 - Example of a lie. That individual claiming Astarion doesn't approve of saving the gnomes and me debunking it. part 2 - That individual admitting to liking torturing, murdering and using mods that make Astarion into a slave, yet claiming Astarion's fans are toxic ones

For those who haven't read it, I will try to make a brief summary in this paragraph (sorry, I've tried) : The story goes like that, for quite some time under various Astarion-related videos and threads I've been seeing one and the same username very often accompanied by the second one. Their modus operandi and comments were pretty similar - they've been saying things like "I'm not an Astarion hater but..." insert here a blatant lie made to paint Astarion as evil, that can be easily debunked by playing, looking at clips, videos or Wiki with Astarion approval... The fact that they were lying was confusing because... like Astarion's not an angel, you really don't have to lie about him... Besides why even lie about a fictional character? Why with such vitriol and obsession under so many videos about him 1 year after the release? Why target neutral fans (of course to make them hate this fictional character :( )? Why lie that "you're not an Astarion hater"? Not a hater wouldn't have reasons to lie... Under different videos, I've also seen the same user celebrating hurting Astarion... What was the most frustrating is that often normal people were being deceived only since they assumed that individual didn't have ill intentions and because they believed they weren't being lied to. After seeing one comment from that person under yet another Astarion video from several months back, about how Astarion deserved to be brutally abused and murdered because "he only ever approves of bad things" and also listed some things that weren't really even true (like the gnome at moonrise, or ascending), I finally decided to answer and correct them citing some of the good things he approves of (saving an abused hyena, saving the gnomes, saving Vanra etc. ) I also added that while sometimes Astarion talks shit he doesn't actually DO anything evil on his own free will until the ritual unlike some other companions that they consider "good" and that holding a belief that an escaped slave or basically a victim of human trafficking who doesn't remember any other life but constant torture deserves to be tortured and murdered only for talking and being angry is evil. And that is when the insanity started. They kept lying, saying that Astarion's canon approval is not real, that he doesn't approve of those things (gnomes, vanra etc) and made even more lies and taking things out of context. Maybe I shouldn't have engaged. I probably shouldn't have, but hey, I don't like the idea of them deceiving anyone... I tried to debunk their lies, but of course, they doubled down on it and made new ones, blatantly refusing to check the sources, saying that the abuse options are there because the devs too think Astarion should be abused, and even going as far as trying to vilify not only Astarion but also Neil. Of course, the same account that almost always keeps backing them up almost immediately after their post appeared again and started spewing similar bs with the same arguments. They even decided to harass me on my own channel for correcting them...

At least I managed to get indisputable proof that: 1. those two accounts belong to the same person. (Establishing this fact is important so I started with those screens) 2. they lie (it was obvious before (in part 2) but here's another proof, 3. They use those multiple accounts to create false narratives by talking to "each other" and trying to create an illusion that someone who disagrees with them is "outnumbered" and toxic.

Re: So I don't have any video or content on my channel on yt. Literally nothing. And somehow still got 2 subscribers, I made a post 2 weeks ago asking my subscribers why even subscribe? Not relevant? Yeah totally, but after I corrected some lies of that Astarion hater, they went on my channel for no reason to try to vilify Neil under that post... At that point, I was 100% sure those 2 were the same person so I called them out (btw I may seem a little harsh at first glance but this person: 1. keeps going under many Astarion videos-comment to shamelessly lie, 2. was insulting all astarion fans, 3. was bragging about playing slave-owner simulator by putting a collar on Astarion and murdering him which I find repulsive, 4. went under my post to harass me under an unrelated post, while despite everything I have NOT gone on their channel.) and they exposed how pathetic they are:

This paragraph is basically the same thing as what I wrote to them. *btw they assumed I was a he, but whatever, I don't really care that's not the most important thing for me I've only 2 subscribers and I had them before interacting with that individual which meant they were not one of them. They were using one account to harass me but when I said I knew they were the same person who was behind the first account then even though I had not tagged the second account and even misspelt the username of the second account, despite getting no notification, it replied to a small channel with 2 subscribers barely 1 hour later, under the same post? That is NOT a coincidence. That's clearly one hater. Though they claim.

Nice try, except that was my channel and the only comment under the post belonged to their second account so no notification for kiririkiri account. Besides as shown (part2) those "two" accounts keep commenting almost back-to-back, both are under the same comment/video that is ofter several months old and with barely 1 hour of break. They also share all opinions and have the same habit of sending the same message several times.

As you can see they also started talking with themselves to "outnumber me" again. They even left themselves a like because it definitely wasn't my subscriber. I have 2 and I bet they don't spend 24/7 waiting for me - somebody with no content to post or comment.

Since I think I have already established this is the same obsessed person. Let me go back a little and once again gives you some evidence and perspective why I called them evil twisted and pathetic.

2. Well for once as I stated before they frequently lie. Exhibit I And I have given some examples in part 2 (astarion is evil because he says he embraced the darkness in the epilogue when talking about missing the sun, canon in-game lines from the narrator that describe how companions are feeling in different situations are not canon because their hc should be believed instead, Astarion wants to kill not help Vanra despite giving approval for saving her and despite having a line " "be careful, if we kill the hag the girl might die", the nightmare doesn't happen and a vivid dreaming about being enslaved again by your abuser can't be a clear sign of ptsd, Astarion wants to murder PC even though in his origin canon lines say "you try to wrench your head but your jaw refuses to obey" and that the fact that he has to do checks for not killing the companion proves his story - that he just lost control and other lies). But for the purpose of this comment let me remind you of that specific one from part 1 the gnome one

I've already debunked it, but as that person refused to check it and acknowledge it, and since they decided to come to my account to harass me I decided to use this opportunity and I posted the same screens from my part 1 to make that person see it and comment so that I can get further screens of them lying and denying canon. They did. They still said that the screens from the game and wiki are not canon.

I got the screens :D. Also jokes on you hater, cause I already got more than 20 likes under the same post on tumblr (part1) Exhibit 2

They are doing the same things with ascension...

Meanwhile reality:

This guy is so confused and complicated he doesn't even know if he truly wants to ascend and his approval of you trying to persuade him depends on a roll. One thing is clear. He does NOT approve of ascending.

Toxicity.

This is also in a way not true. This comment itself is mild, next ones are worse still... before the crash, he was mind-controlled and even refers to it as being a puppet whose body is controlled by his master and after the nautiloid he immediately joins the players and follows his lead till the end of his quest. He doesn't actively DO anything of his own free will to "torment innocents" he just observes, talks and approves/disapproves. A belief that a victim of human trafficking or slavery who doesn't remember not being abused and who has been enslaved and tortured for decades (or centuries) deserves to be murdered, tortured and humiliated because they are not well-adjusted 1 day after being freed because they say things that you don't like, are angry at the world and disapproves of your actions is fundamentally evil. He has never even been given any chance to heal. But hey if you've read part 2 you know that this comment is very mild because they in fact love playing the slave-owner simulator, murdering Astarion and helping Cazador.

As can be seen on the screens from the very beginning when they came to harass me after I've corrected them but accidentally exposed themselves for having 2 accounts they also made a special point to tell me how they'll enjoy hurting him and will "do their worst" specially for me in multiple messages.... It made me think about the comments they made under a different video

Last time I cut only the part about the streamer, how they called Astarion fans toxic because some people disliked how he put him in a collar and made him crawl... I did this to show how implausible that is that it was done by accident and to show their hypocrisy because as you can see that person's 2 accounts were bragging about downloading the mod specifically for Astarion, knowing his history and were both proud of playing a slave-owner simulator. But it was point 1. However, there were also points 2 and 3:

Interestingly: when said more was compared to male Aylin or whitewashing Wyll mod. That person failed to address Aylin at all and despite admitting that Wyll's is racist also said it's ok to play with this mod... But for the purpose of the post I think it's more important how they stated that "they're not an astarion hater" and that they never killed him and yet previous screens clearly show that they are a hater and LOVE to murder and torture him. They also were crying that a mystery streamer was "bullied" without showing any proof other than "trust me bro" but when I corrected some of their lies and told them their behaviour and reasoning is evil they immediately started to harass a channel with 2 subscribes... with 2 of their accounts, because they're so insecure they thought one account will not be enough... Yes, playing slave owner is ok, but being corrected is not. Them responding to an Astarion fan calling all Astarion fans toxic is ok, but somebody else telling them that their mod and ideas of "you disapprove therefore you deserve to die" is evil is not ok. etc.

I don't usually think that age should be brought up but this person is not young at all.

One of their accounts is almost 19 years old. I created my yt account when I was a teen but that person has videos from 12+ years ago... All things considered. I think they're probably at least in their 30s. For such a person to behave like that is not normal. 30+ years person individual lying online about a fictional character, bragging about hurting them, thinking it's ok to murder for talking, and harassing people for correcting you is deeply concerning.

Also considering that several years ago that person was posting some videos with game fragments makes me think that the probability of them being a "mysterious streamer" who got backlash for doing exactly what they were bragging about doing is even higher.

I'm ending this post because it's already quite long and summarizes the most important points well.

P.S. It has been brought to my attention in a wise comment under part 2 that this individual seems to have some problems and that's not normal behaviour. Upon reflection, I still think that certain behaviours and opinions should be openly called out as twisted and evil regardless so they won't be normalized in society. That being said I agree from an objective point of view that I probably shouldn't have engaged in the conversation or insulted them by calling them "pathetic" or "a loser" to their faces despite them being that things (I still by an evil and twisted). Then again it's very frustrating seeing accounts of the same person under so many Astarion comments or videos celebrating hurting him, attacking the fans or trying to make people hate a fictional character by lying especially because their initial comments/replies under some threads sometimes seem innocent and because they state "they're not an Astarion hater" some people believe them (unless those are fake accounts too:/) It's even more frustrating that when corrected they double down, spam with more lies and go under your own channel to harass you. Despite that, I don't think they should be harassed themselves. I've decided to just erase all their comments on my page, ban them and stop engaging. But I'm not sure what should be done if I ever see them lying or trying to portray Astarion as toxic in public discourse under anything related to him :/ They spiral after being called out and things get nasty but the alternative is allowing them to deceive people... No matter what I still wanted to share this story as I think we should be aware there's a new kind of haters. If you ever see or encounter this person, their second account or somebody else who says "I'm not an Astarion hater" and then proceeds to say something insulting or suspicious be wary and check the sources instead of believing blindly because there are strong chances it's an obsessive hater. I'm going to reblog and add some new screens of their lies... Check the first reblog if you want to see them.

[the-smallest-lions-jungle]

Welcome!

Welcome to the Smallest Lions Jungle! This is a SAFE FOR WORK Age Regression and Pet Regression blog. SAFE FOR WORK INTERACTIONS ONLY PLEASE! (DNI at the end of the post)

Get to Know me! Hello! You can call me Lion, Jazzy, or Sofi!

My big age is 21! My regression age is 1-5, leaning towards the younger side. I'm also a system (trauma related, I'm not super familiar with all the terminology yet). I won't talk much about DID and the facets of that on here much, but it's worth noting if there's a period where I just do not exist for a while :3 My pronouns are They/He/it, I'm nonbinary Masc leaning, FTM Trans. I love to draw, and write, and collect plushies! I have a lot of pets, a Dog, Three snakes, and a leopard Gecko. My favorite colors are Pink and Yellow!

Here's a list of my regression aesthetics and a bit about why I like them! Lion King (1994 Version) - I really like the jungle and nature in general. Lion King was one of the first movies I remember watching as a young kid! I love 2D animation and the charming quality it has. It inspired me when I was younger before I lost the drive to do art for a while. Space - I like the semi isolation and comfort I get when I look up at the big sky, all those stars, so much to learn and see. So many amazing colors and opportunities to expand and do cool new science things.

Dinos - History has always fascinated me but there's something special about the dino period of it all. I'm not super smart or knowledgeable when it comes to them, but I love their big stompers. Dinos also remind me of a very long time friend I have! Paw Patrol - I love dogs, in fact I have a dog, she's my service animal! I do love the more subtle kids shows like Bluey but there's something so nice about turning my brain off and watching an obvious lesson kid show. Chase is my favorite! Bluey - I think it's self explanatory about why I love Bluey so much. It really became special to me when I was still in high-school. I had bad dreams that shook me to my core, so I stayed home from school with my grandma and wed watch some to make me feel better.

Regression Activities! (age regression) Here are some Regression activities I really like when I'm small! Coloring Playing pretend Playing with my Littlest Pet shops Watching a Small TV show Running around outside when it's sunny out! Napping with Bubuh (Fictional Caregiver) (more to be added as I'm able to regress more and find out what i like)

Regression activities! (Pet Regression) Here are some Pet Regression activities I really like when I'm puppy! Running around on all fours Playing with my chew toy Getting pets from Bubuh! (Fictional Caregiver) Going to the park Learning new tricks. Playing with my friends!

Miscellaneous Regression Information! Regression, whether it be age or pet, is really hard for me. I live with two people who don't quite get it, so I feel strange. My old therapist also said that it could be a dangerous coping mechanism so I've been very hesitant to try and reconnect with that side of me. Due to that I don't know how often ill post, or how often I'll lurk. I don't have an actual Caregiver, and if I ever did get one they'd have to be my romantic partner. Not because I want romantic stuff when in little space, but because of how I grew up, romantic love and care is easier to accept than platonic or familial. I have a corner in my room dedicated to regression! It's got so many fun activities, I'll post pictures of it once I finally have it unearthed from a pile of boxes hehehe.

DO NOT INTERACT LIST. Do not interact if you are any of the following: Anti LGBTQ+ in any capacity Anti Agere/Petre Anti Furry Anti Therian/Otherkin/Fiction kin, ect Racist Sexist Ableist Proship NSFW, Including: DDLG/DDLB, ABDL, any kind of kink, ect. Map/Pedo and or support maps/pedos, ect. If you interact with any kind of gore.

Thank you for reading! I hope you stay a while and we can be friends! ~Lion/Jazzy/Sofi.

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

Us-the-voices intro card!

this is a work in progress but currently it will house the tags we use, our DNI, and alter intros and a couple other fun things!

Link to resource page, filled with many resources. LINK

-------- DC text post series ----------------

superfam being confusing and half clones:

part 1 luthor and Conner reconciliation arc

batfamily stuff: (note this is not in order this is parts of a series each part contains more than 10 posts)

part 1 introducing the batfam along with funny stuff

Part 2 actual batfam serious stuff

part 3 red hood oneshots about various things and how he reacted

part 4 Thomas Wayne being himself, a collection of previous posts

part 5

firestorm being 3 guys:

part 1 the origin + the first couple episodes.

random head cannons important to the series:

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 3 part 4

——————⭐️🦀SIDE BLOGS🦀⭐️————

@us-the-voices-xenogender-blog

A blog for all things blinkies, xenogenders and pixel art

@the-bad-advice-blog-3

you want awful. awful advice? send it in here!

@us-the-batfam-blog

Finally a blog dedicated to just Batman stuff

——————🛑‼️WARNING‼️🛑—————

THIS BLOG CONTAINS BLINKING, FLASHING, EYESTRAIN AND OTHER PHOTOSENSITIVE THINGS! PLEASE BE SAFE, WE WILL TRY TO TAG AS MUCH AS WE CAN BUT IT WILL SLIP THROUGH. PLEASE ONLY LOOK AT TEXT POST FROM US, IF YOU HAVE EPILEPSY BECAUSE I CANNOT GUARANTEE THIS BLOG IS SAFE

this blog talks about mature topics! Such as Sexual abuse, death, trauma, child abuse, ableism, sexism, racism, police brutality, some really depressing environmental issues, homophobia, transphobia, queerphobia, gore, capitalism, and MORE!

so please consider this your warning!

———————��️ DNI ⚠️—————————

Terfs/radfems, transphobes/queerphobes, (I have had enough of you. Why do you have to be so awful Jesus, it’s not like awful people don’t come in all shapes, sizes, races, and genders. I ain’t defending awful people. But trans people just exist and I believe in judging people on a person to person basis. I don’t think you are bad I just want you to shut up about it, I’ll always be loudly supportive of trans people and loudly a feminist too. So deal with it! Also I don’t hate men, why would i??? So shush)

ableists/sanists (like the people who discriminate against mentally ill people),

Tankies/marxist-lennists/maoists/north-korean socialist supporters (please fuck off I hate facists, and you are the types to argue that disabled people should all die for the glorious revolution but again fuck you we are 15% of the fucking world’s population and guess what I wanna live)

animal abusers/people who spread misinformation about animals and animal care, (I hope you stub your toes)

syscourse (yeah I don’t ever want to engage in it idc shut up this blog is about literally everything else BUT that.),

bad faith gender/other Identities (E.G BLM gender, transabled, ect.)

racists/xenophobes/antisemites, misogynists.

non-binary exclusionists.

pro-censorship people.

anti-therians/otherkin, (if you are it’s not a deal breaker lol, it’s just some of us are therian/otherkin due to plurality)

only NSFW blogs (like if you occasionally post NSFW your okay, if it’s less than 50% nsfw your fine on this blog lol),

MAP’s AND PEDO’s and people who like l*licon/sh**tacon (fuck off and stay off) (sorry I am actually anti censorship but following our most recent ban I’m being more “careful” when mentioning these topics so sorry)

Dream Stans (yeah I fucking hate that guy, I like MCYT but dream and co can stay off of here REAL) (I have always hated him and I will continue to, fuck off dream Stan’s),

anti-good faith xenogenders (yeah so what if the term xeno-identities is more the “right” term idgaf! I literally have no qualms nor problems with xenogenders, in my mind it makes sense because gender is a social construct and so why not have fun with it?)

And more to be added :)

WE ALSO BELIEVE PEOPLE CAN CHANGE AND GROW, AND HATE IS LEARNED SO IF YOU WERE ONE OF THESE THINGS IN THE PAST AND HAVE NOW REFORMED I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT YOU!

——————————- ALTER INTROS —————————————

Now expanded in our tumblr page!

Pop (hi I’m pop, I’m usually the one on here when it’s not everyone else. If you see me more than usual it means LIFE happened. I’m technically host? But me, Lena, And poppie kinda share that role. They/them he/him)

poppie (cat girl, you see her a lot on here. She’s SUPER into the veganism scene and animal rights and is a cat-therian lol we all love her she’s the best. She/her any cat neopronouns actually.)

Lena (demon, yeah she’s a demon! She’s nonsense hardworking and in the demonkin/otherkin scene. She/her)

belle (psychology nerd, actually knows how to write ANYTHING is honestly the best. She/her)

————————————. Tags ————————————————-

#Anticapitalism stuff (a tag that argues against capitalism, and trashing multinational corporations and a bit of environmental stuff.)

#anarchism stuff (a tag for all things anarchism)

#art stuff (a tag for stuff related to the ethics, discussion, or making of art.)

#music stuff (for all things music and music theory!)

#tv and movie stuff (the tag for film and television, kinda fun kinda sad! It’s good tho)

#anti-censorship stuff (a tag for anti-censorship stuff, and why it’s important!)

#trans stuff (a tag for all things trans! Includes dark topics, mostly happy stuff tho.)

#queer stuff (a tag for all things LGBTQIA+, mostly happy but with triggering and dark topics.)

#mental health stuff (A tag for all things mental health, let it be help or just memes or darker topics.)

#mental illness stuff (a tag for specifically mental illnesses, like anxiety or depression or whatever usually REALLY dark but sometimes happy usually dark tho.)

#veganism stuff (a tag for all things vegan, not recipes just ethics and whatever. I [pop] don’t usually add to it but poppie does ALL THE TIME.)

#disability (for all things disability, let it be activism stuff, vents, information, or just funny stuff! It’s a tag I tend to use for myself because fun fact I [pop] am not okay! Health wise lol.)

#punk stuff (A tag for all things punk, let it be C-punk, madpunk, neuropunk or whatever! It’s a tag for all things punk! Including art, crafts, sewing and punk beliefs and politics I love punks I am not really one due to a whole lotta reasons but I love them so much <3 )

#environmentalism stuff (Climate change, mass extinctions, greedy corporations and politicians, animal rights, and more stuff. Mostly climate/animal related but intersects with disability stuff, anarchism stuff, activism stuff, and veganism and punk stuff. Fun fact these types of things are extremely intersectional but are never presented as such due to infighting!)

#healthcare stuff (The weird tag related to health and healthcare, not a disability tag, not a environmentalism tag literally health and healthcare which is weird. Mostly PSA’s)

#animal care stuff (For all things animal care, I disagree with veganism’s doctrine here. Keeping Some animals and keeping animals can be done well and awesomely and help petstore and wild animals, but people who do animal care just absolutely trash just don’t deserve anything or anyone. It’s a fine line, but I genuinely believe if you take good care of your animals and give them an amazing quality of life I genuinely don’t see a problem with keeping animals.)

#animal abuse stuff (Goes hand in hand with animal care stuff, it’s pretty bad at times, it is what it says on the tin. Mostly also animal care stuff.)

#child abuse stuff (For stories, children’s rights, or experiences. It’s pretty dark.)

#youth liberation (for youth liberation stuff, it’s important honestly.)

#children's rights (A tag for all things children’s rights it’s super cool!)

#homelessness stuff (a tag related to homelessness and just all the things that come with it, it’s a dark tag. Sometimes happy.)

#uhoused stuff (Same same but different, more related to cost of living crisis’s and capitalism then disenfranchisement and outright just the sad reality that is being mentally ill and homeless or a substance abuser and homeless or trans/queer and homeless or any other absolutely insane and awful reason people are homeless.)

#communism stuff (For all things communist, I don’t believe it will fix anything and it is kinda extremely hard to get rid of monetary currency. But communism, socialism, anarchism, and punk theory are all connected in ways and have some BASED ideas and principles. So yeah that’s why it’s tagged on here!

Edit: I do not agree with communism; well Marxist Leninist, or Stalinist, or any variation of fucking facist dictators like North Korean communism/socialism or soviet communism and Maoist communism. Why? Because do I really have to spell it out they were facist DICTATORS, I do not believe a cult of personality is good nor that people instead of being solely valued on their money they are solely valued by their ableness which I think is harmful as shit. A lot of communists are literally tankies and for the death penalty and many other things I’m against including “making prisons torture chambers” “state mandated murder of people against communism” “leaving disabled and mentally ill people to rot because they can’t contribute to the work force and such are useless to the communist state” “stealing shit from people because it now belongs to the state” “forcing people into mandatory labor jobs with no way out of it unless they become disabled or die” and many many more! Communism can be interesting and helpful but in a lot of ways people drunk the “facists aren’t bad they are communists they are for the people!” Drink. And like I don’t believe in that shit, go fucking deconstruct your biases please because otherwise I’m blocking you, talkies fuck off)

#socialism stuff (I actually do believe socialism can work, it’s definitely not the end all be all of ways to govern/live life but I think it’s a good stepping stone to all different wonderful things that can change the world for the better, usually the CIA/FBI/US government appears a lot in this tag due to reasons that will become apparent. But it’s a fun one!)

#fat stuff (A tag about fatphobia, diet culture, ableism and just annoying stuff about being fat lol. Mostly medical negligence and malpractice because holy shit fuck is it bad in this tag. Also Eating disorders are talked about in every post in one way or another, it’s a big problem. Dark tag.)

#religion stuff (A thing for all things religion, it’s basically every criticism and deep cut anyone and everyone has on every single religion, which yk obviously no one literally agrees with anything. It’s mostly everyone going “QUEER/TRANS/DISABLED/WOMEN/“SINNERS” DONT DESERVE THIS TREATMENT IT MAKES NO SENSE!” Other religions “NO THEY DO” and it’s actually very well written and argued for. Also atheism is talked about a lot too, it’s mostly like a deep philosophical and ethical debate that has spanned literally everything and everywhere where it’s all boiled down to “yeah some fuckers deserve prison, but the average normal guy kinda just exists we guess??? Religious or not???? And there’s kinda nothing wrong with it but we would rather them be religious in some way????” And that is still the shittyist summary ever too. But it’s the gist of this tag. Also memes!)

(and where I put all stuff related to religion it’s very much a mixed bag i’m not making fun of anyone actually it’s that there is genuinely too much variety in this tag to accurately tell you what’s in there. It’s everything related to religion all religions!)

#autism stuff (Specifically for autistic stuff, it’s used from time to time.)

#activism stuff (a tag for all things ally posting, and human/animal/land/just everything rights. It’s fun!)

#food stuff (A tag about all things food related, sometimes recipes sometimes diet culture and why it’s bad. Sometimes it’s just cultural things related to food. Food is a big topic LOL)

#comics and book stuff (a tag about all things comics, books, and written works.)

#tv and movie stuff or #film and tv (a tag about all things TV and film, let it be discussion, gifs, or videos or fun facts.)

#neurodivergent stuff (For all things neurodivergent! Fun stuff, kinda happy kinda dark. Intersects with mental health stuff and mental illness stuff and disability tags. Because like why wouldn’t it???)

#animals (yes just for animals, nice calm usually no triggering animal stuff. It’s just cuteness usually! Unless I put something dark in there then sorry.)

#too queue for school (A tag for all queued stuff I remember to tag! Usually wholesome most times not. But it’s just a fun “today’s thing queued!” Thing if I’m not online.)

—————————————- Our post tags —————————————

#us-the-voices Cooks (a tag for recipes, food we make, and random cooking tips???)

#us-the-voices reviews (a tag for all things reviews! Let it be movies, shows, games, art, books, fanfics, whatever!)

#us-the-voices talks (A tag for like personal affairs? Or just “haha update stuff went DOWN in our personal lives” or just general chatting with mutuals who knows I haven’t decided yet.)

#us-the-voices recommends (weird tag for all weird recommendations of shows/books/tv/fanfic/movies it’s there it’s weird and if your bored and want something to do maybe you’ll like it lol.)

#us-the-voices rants (a tag for rants, don’t take them seriously it’s usually momentarily sad/existential/angry/fed up/annoyed/trauma dump RANTS. suggest you just block the tag lol, I will probably make half of these while I’m unwell and sick or just stressed and under all sorts of stress. So honestly it’s just a tag so you guys don’t have to deal with it because I will eventually be stupid on the internet and I’d rather you understand these are nonsense rants that are just a release of information that’s been annoying us.)

#the voices talk (A tag for talking about alters or specific things some alters want to talk about but not all.)

#poppie weblogs (poppies tag for her stuff, it literally has everything in it.)

and more to come!

——— User boxes ———————————

————————————————————————————————-

BLINKIESSSSS

below the cut because they strobe!!!!!

[plezfection]

h0eW d03zS th15 w3rK 4ga1N?? DXX

Hello my skibidi vro, welcome to my alpha domain

This blog is run by one person (@catsharkzzz hii thats me if you want to ask me something directly go there)

hi! if you couldn't tell this was an askblog already, you might want to go to a doctor to check for brain damage!

all jokes aside, let me give you a rundown, a tour if you will!

To differentiate when speaking, Infected's text will be colored in pink!

Unpleasant's in green,

//and my own in plain with a double-slash to indicate that i am talking out of character!

also, a couple things you should know right off the bat-

I am still in schooling, do not expect immediate responses or drawings for every single ask.

I intend for this blog to be very lore-heavy, because im severely autistic like that

Excessively weirdo asks are very unappreciated! I can take a good joke but there is in fact a line!

If you come in my askbox being generally stupid or hateful, you will not get the satisfaction of a public response. I will laugh at you privately with my friends. And also ill kill you with hammers

☆REFRENCE SHEET!!☆

i and infected will oftentimes refer to unpleasant as plez, as its a more name-sounding name than unpleasant gradient (stolen idea from @displ3azant hi hi i robbed you)

^^designs are very subject to change i have horrific style consistency!!! also, these are not the only two that will ever show up :3 more sheets may be added in if i decide they are important enough

This post will definitely have things added along to it !! check like maybe every once in a while i dunno

o th3r 1t g0e5z.. o-O