#we're about a dozen ourselves

[glowettee]

🦢 you don't need more tips, you need to trust yourself

hey lovelies!! mindy here, back with another "no aesthetics post". so i've been thinking about this a lot lately (like, literally in the middle of the night when i should be sleeping but my brain won't shut up??) and i realized something that honestly changed everything for me. we're all obsessed with consuming advice, tips, strategies… but at some point we need to ask: is all this "help" actually helping?

i used to be that girl with 27 self-help books on her nightstand, 14 productivity podcasts in my queue, and approximately 10000 saved posts about "how to live your best life." i was drowning in good advice. and yet? i wasn't actually doing anything with it all.

here's the uncomfortable truth that i personally learned: collecting self-help is often just another form of procrastination. we trick ourselves into thinking we're making progress because we're "learning," but we're actually just avoiding the scary part, taking action when we don't feel ready.

✧ when you know it's become a problem:

you feel like you need to read "just one more" article before starting

you have notebooks filled with advice you've never implemented

you follow dozens of gurus but haven't committed to any single approach

you constantly switch systems hoping to find the "perfect" one

you know what to do but still feel paralyzed

you use phrases like "once i learn enough about x, then i'll start"

you feel overwhelmed by conflicting advice but keep seeking more

the most painful realization? all this consumption is actually making you less confident. every new piece of advice makes you question your instincts more. every contradicting tip makes you doubt your judgment. every perfect "before and after" makes you wonder what's wrong with you.

✧ why we get stuck in the advice loop:

consuming feels safe. implementing feels risky. reading about someone else's success story gives us the emotional satisfaction of achievement without any of the messy work or potential failure. it's like emotional junk food, momentarily satisfying but ultimately empty.

plus, there's something so alluring about the promise that the next book, the next course, the next system will finally be THE ONE that changes everything. we become collectors of solutions rather than solvers of problems.

✧ how to break free (ironic, i know… more advice):

declare an information fast. seriously. no new self-help for at least 30 days. it will feel uncomfortable, like an itch you can't scratch. that's how you know you need it.

pick ONE system or approach you've already learned and commit to it fully. not perfectly, just consistently. the magic isn't in finding the perfect system, it's in the consistent application of any decent one.

start before you feel ready. that knot in your stomach when you think about taking action? that's your growth edge. the discomfort isn't a sign to seek more knowledge, it's the signal that you're about to grow.

recognize that implementation creates wisdom that consumption never will. you'll learn more from a week of messy action than a year of perfect theory.

identify your "consumption triggers" do you reach for advice when you're afraid? uncertain? compare yourself to others? notice the emotional patterns.

create an "already know" document. write down everything you already know about your goal. you'll be shocked at how much wisdom you already possess.

trust that you are the expert on your own life. external advice can inform you, but it can never know the nuances of your specific situation like you do.

the truth is, you already know enough. you've probably known enough for a while now. the answers you're seeking outside yourself are usually already within you, buried under layers of doubt and other people's opinions.

what if the most radical act of self-improvement isn't finding new advice, but trusting the wisdom you already have? what if you already have everything you need?

so this is my gentle nudge to put down the self-help, close the tabs, unfollow the gurus (yes, even me if you need to), and start the messy, imperfect process of actually living instead of just learning about living.

because honestly, the world doesn't need more people who know all the right theories. it needs people brave enough to take imperfect action on what they already know.

xoxo, mindy 🤍

p.s. if you're wondering "but how will i know what to do without guidance?", that's exactly the point. you won't know for certain. and that uncertainty is where the real growth happens. trust yourself anyway.

[voices-in-dark-violets-head]

"Be Yourself", says the Furry Fandom.

And yet, as with many things in life, it's far easier said than done.

I've found that 'being myself' can take a lot of bravery, but I want to tell you why it's so, so important.

Storytime!

At Eurofurence this year, I ran the e621 Gameshow for the third year in a row. And for the third year in a row, we were over capacity. As in, security-comes-in-to-tell-people-to-leave levels of over capacity (Which, my dear sympathies once again with those who had to go!)

We had a crowd that was there for an hour and a half of weird furry porn. Who cheered for horsecock. Who delighted in Falco Lombardi macro art. A hundred people - a quarter of the room - gleefully admitted to being into vore.

The atmosphere was electric, and I hadn't even needed my e-stim kit. This was a crowd who rejoiced in the adult side of the fandom!

And then I asked them - how many people had a fetish they'd be nervous admitting to?

A third of the room raised their hands.

In a room that had been laughing moments earlier about the amount of Mufasa/Simba porn, or getting a 100% success rate on guessing popular cock shapes, 1/3 of them weren't confident in revealing those same parts of themselves.

I don't think this is rare.

I've had folks ask me if I get hate for the kind of art I draw (not really much at all, by the way). But worse, I get people telling me - they wish they could draw what they want, write the characters they love… but they fear what others might say.

I've had commissioners remain anonymous, for fear of people knowing what they're into. Known artists start up alt accounts, so that they can draw a kink without their friends knowing. Writers wringing their hands over possible reactions to their stories.

And I would love to tell you it's all just fear - but truth is, it isn't.

Because it ain't just the big patron sites that are swinging the axe on the 'too weird'. Our own sites - our communities - sharpen their restrictions. Whole kinks, loving and accepted, are now 'too far'.

We're fearing the gaze from the outside. We're hearing their derision. And that can scare us, cause us to hide not just ourselves, but those around us. "What if they think that I'm into that? What would they say? I need to prove I'm not!"

We all crave love and acceptance. And in a fandom formed in rejection from society, don't we just hold such ideals even more tightly? So much so that the very idea of this same community throwing us out - for being ourselves? Of course it's terrifying.

But it turns out, even us outcasts, outsiders… we can all hold prejudices. We all have the ability to draw lines, and give too little thought to what that means. We can so easily turn our own opinions, our fear of what others think of us, into rules that hurt and exclude.

And therein lies the issue. "Be yourself", says the fandom, without stopping to consider how treacherous, how thorned that path can be. To be yourself, sometimes, is to suffer the disgust of those who would tell you to do it in the first place.

But… I'm missing something.

Thing is, this fandom isn't based on any one thing. We're not just here because Zootopia was a kinda cool movie, or Twokinds is pretty sexy, or StarFox looks good when he's fifteen stories tall.

We follow no one IP, no webcomic, no TV show. We follow only one thing:

Ourselves.

WE make the fandom we live in. We're dozens of sexualities, a hundred meetups and conventions, a thousand discord servers and Telegram channels, a million pictures and stories and alt-accounts and roleplays…

We decide what we are.

Aren't we the haven of the weird? The questioning of sexualities? The taboo, even incomprehensible kinks? We joke about vore, knots, gratuitous foot fetishists, but isn't that what makes this place home? Isn't every artist drawing obvious kink art following a beautiful legacy?

We are the monsterfuckers. The maw-obsessed, the paw-sluts, the musk-lovers (er, not that one). With every fetish we draw, every kink we commission, every smut-filled story and problematic character and taboo-laden roleplay…

We're the fandom, making ourselves.

Through being myself, through art and stories and chats and servers, I've found new communities. New friends. New ways to think, new art to enjoy. I've found love, deeper than I ever thought possible.

I've found myself.

And I've been told that through my artwork, stories, friend groups, I've helped people do the same. They've found the words to describe what's been inside them this whole time.

They've found they're not alone.

It's one of the sweetest and most delightful things I've heard.

Yes, it takes bravery to be yourself. You risk being misperceived, either accidentally or wilfully. You risk hurt. You risk confusion. But it's nothing you haven't done before. And in its wake, you will find yourself.

Do not let other people dictate who you are.

Do not let other people dictate who you are.

So when I say to keep furry weird, this is what I mean. Find that part of yourself that yearns to be free, and make this fandom the place for it.

Be yourself. Be so amazingly yourself that your very existence is an act of rebellion.

And Keep. Furry. Weird.

[coldbronzemoon]

To Extend Our Reach to the Stars Above

A one-shot based off of @nropay's superhero au concept :). Featuring Mabel and Dipper as a pair of magical girls (magical pre-teens, more like) and Stan and Ford as a retired villain and not-quite-retired hero who are horrified to realize what their niece and nephew are getting themselves into.

Yes, the title is taken from the Team Rocket motto.

The more Dipper read through the mysterious Journal 3 he’d found, the more he was convinced that he had discovered a gold mine. There were so many cool things in there—zombies, ghosts, magical springs that transformed you, living fire, a dozen other strange and magical mysteries!

Mabel was less interested in the whole thing, so Dipper was hunting through the book for cool things she’d get excited about as she flipped through tv channels in their Grunkle’s living room.

"Look at this," Dipper exclaimed, scooting closer to his sister on the recliner and angling the book so she could see it better. He began reading off the cursive. "I've recently uncovered a spell meant to magically infuse those who recite it with incredible power! By placing candles within a circle of the zodiac and reciting the following incantation, one should be gifted powers from a higher plane.”

“Hold on,” Mabel said, her eyes shining as she sat up and started skimming the page with him. She looked more enthused about the Journal than she had all day. “Can we get ourselves some real magic?”

Dipper continued on. “I attempted the spell, but it produced no observable effects..."

"Awww," Mabel groaned, deflating.

"No, no, hold on. But this may be due to my established connection to another source of magic. Perhaps I can experiment by having others perform the ritual..."

"Oooh," she said, immediately perking up again. "So it will turn us into witches or something?"

"Maybe," Dipper said. "Or whoever wrote this is just crazy. Or the spell is real, but it will just drive us mad or curse us forever or something."

There was a beat of silence. Mabel and Dipper looked at each other, their eyes both narrowed in contemplation.

Then: "So we're totally gonna try this, right?"

"Yup! What else are we gonna do? Ask Grunkle Stan for more chores?"

They burst into laughter at the very idea, jumping up at the same time so they could search for candles and Mabel's washable markers. There was no time like the present when it came to committing dubious magical rituals to gain power.

"No glitter!" Dipper shouted to Mabel as he went to the kitchen. He was pretty sure there had been a bunch of those plain, thin candles below the sink.

He had no idea why Grunkle Stan would have those candles—maybe some sort of apocalypse-prepper thing like the cans of brown meat?—but he was grateful for them. If he had time to go to the store to get some, he might have time to back out and Mabel would tease him for it endlessly.

They met back up in their bedroom, dumping their ritual supplies on the floor. Dipper had gotten the candles, some paper plates for the candles so they didn’t have to scrape wax off the floor, and a knife, because he assumed most arcane rituals would include a knife somehow. Mabel procured a rainbow’s worth of chalk instead of the washable markers. 

“Good thinking,” he told her. It’d be easier to wipe away the chalk, and he was pretty sure most ritual circles were done in chalk anyway.

Mabel flashed him a smug smile. They got to work recreating the one sketched out in the Journal onto the wooden floor of their bedroom. Mabel’s skill at creating perfect circles came in handy as Dipper focused on the smaller, strange symbols near the middle.

The ritual circle was comprised of three layers: the largest held the symbols of the Western Zodiac. Below that was a secondary ring of more puzzling symbols, like glasses and a fish and a bag of ice, and then in the very middle was a small circle with a set of six strange pronged lines springing out from equal sides of it.

Mabel insisted all the symbols be different colors, and Dipper obliged her. He didn’t see how that could mess the ritual up or anything.

Once they had the circle set up, they retreated out of it to consult the incantation in the Journal. Dipper was pleased to see that he was right and that they did need a knife for the ritual, as it required a bit of blood from them.

First, though, they read the incantation together a couple times to try and remember it, eventually agreeing to just put the book in the circle to read from once it became clear that Latin they didn’t actually understand was pretty hard to remember.

Mabel donated her pig plushie Waddles to the effort, setting him against the Journal so it stayed open on the ritual page even if their cool magic chanting ended up generating some wind or something. That left Dipper holding the paring knife he had taken from the kitchen.

“Should we, like, cut our palms or something?” Dipper said.

He kind of wanted to cut his palm. It was what everyone in every type of media always seemed to do while invoking an arcane ritual, and they always looked so cool doing it.

“How are we going to do anything with a cut palm?” Mabel said, adjusting Waddles. “I don’t wanna wait weeks for that to heal, Dip-dop. We only need a little blood.”

That was an unfortunately good point, Dipper had to admit. 

They settled for each pricking a spot on their arms and using their fingers to smear it on the wood floor, which was probably fine for the ritual. If whatever god they were going to call to didn’t like it, that god could get over itself.

With the blood added and the book in place, there was little else to do but actually do the spell.

They stepped into the symbol together, standing on either side of the smallest circle. Dipper’s palms were getting sweaty from a mix of nerves and pure excitement. They were about to do an actual magical ritual!

Mabel grabbed his hands.

“Uh,” said Dipper, a little baffled.

“It’s a ritual thingy, isn’t it?” she said. “Don’t they always have people holding hands in a circle and stuff?”

The entry in the Journal hadn’t said anything about having to hold hands while summoning whatever crazy magical deity was going to give them sick superpowers, but just as he opened his mouth to tell her that, he actually looked at her. Her eyes were a little tight even as she grinned, and the grip she had on his hands was equally as tight.

Oh, he thought with clarity. She’s a little scared too.

That wasn’t going to stop either of them from doing this, of course. But he lifted his arms up so that it was easier for Mabel to hold on.

“You’re right.”

Her grin widened, looking more genuine. “Doi! I’m always right.”

They snickered together. Then Dipper tipped his head down to the Journal where it laid between their feet so it was still visible to read. It was upside-down for him, but that was fine, he read upside-down really well. He could tell by the way her hair fell from the corner of his eye that Mabel was mimicking him.

“Ready?”

“Mhm,” she hummed.

“Okay. Go.”

They took matching deep breaths and began to recite.

“Volumus nitidis astra supernis;

Nos inter mare nigrum vocamus;

Deprecamur lacte lunae.”

Without meaning to or even noticing, Dipper’s eyes slipped closed. He could hear Mabel reciting clearly next to him, could feel her fingers squeezing his clammy palms, and that was all he needed. The Journal lay forgotten.

“O, superi numina! Imperator supra!

Est in hoc humili mundo malum,

Et pereamus ad mortem!”

Their voices both got louder, feeding into each other. Behind his eyelids, the warm light of their bedroom’s desk lantern receded away until he was seeing only darkness. He didn’t notice. His focus was on the feeling of the spell as he spoke it, the strange, faint press of cold.

He didn’t quite feel like he was standing on the floor anymore.

“Imperator, ad imaginem cosmi reficis!

Imperator omnium, cupimus te!”

Their voices both rose even further into a cry:

“AXOLOTL, AXOLOTL, AXOLOTL!

LTOLOXA, LTOLOXA, LTOLOXA!”

They opened their eyes in perfect sync as though they had been commanded to.

The first thing Dipper saw was Mabel’s face. Her hair floated around her head like they were underwater. Her eyes were wide and luminous and almost scared. She could feel it too, he knew—the perfect, vast emptiness around them. The lack of any sensation.

All he could feel was the way her fingers dug into his palms, the bump on her left ring finger from holding pencils and pens and markers, the nick on the side of her palm from a pair of dull scissors. 

He turned his head. She did too.

The second thing Dipper saw was THE AXOLOTL.

THE AXOLOTL was colossal, bigger than anything Dipper had ever seen. Bigger than the Earth, than the Sun, than the whole galaxy. THE AXOLOTL was beyond anything. They floated in front of one of THE AXOLOTL’S huge dark eyes, eyes held all the size and power of a black hole itself. A thousand nebulae gleamed in that eye.

Dipper could almost feel something in his brain crack trying to understand what he was looking at. He clutched at Mabel’s hands like she was the harbor he was desperately trying to find amid the endless sea, and she clung right back.

Then, as the two of them stared out at THE AXOLOTL in pure mute awe, THE AXOLOTL looked back.

THE AXOLOTL shrank. From one moment to the next THE AXOLOTL was filling up all of reality, and then the riotous color of the stars and the inky black of space between them took up the place THE AXOLOTL once filled. THE AXOLOTL became the size of an Earth axolotl, swimming up to them with a placid smile on a pink face. Frills swayed in a non-existent breeze.

HELLO, CHILDREN.

THE AXOLOTL’S voice was not really a voice. Dipper found that he didn’t hear THE AXOLOTL speak so much he remembered THE AXOLOTL saying something, an old memory so faded it was a reproduction of a reproduction, communicating nothing of the voice’s quality or sound.

Even at a new size, THE AXOLOTL’S mere presence was almost too much. Dipper found his mouth glued shut.

Mabel managed to speak first, her voice weak and hollow in the vacuum of space as she dazedly muttered, “You’re… you’re adorable.”

In any other circumstance, Dipper would’ve laughed out of pure shock. He stared at THE AXOLOTL.

SO I AM.

Dipper’s mouth finally un-stuck itself. The thought that had been ringing in his head since his first look at THE AXOLOTL broke through.

“I’ve… we’ve met you before.”

The memory wasn’t there, more a hole in his head where something should be, but he knew it. He knew that it was a memory of THE AXOLOTL.

THE AXOLOTL’S head tilted.

I HAVE MET EVERYONE, AND EVERYONE HAS MET ME, MASON.

I AM THERE FOR THEIR BEGINNING, THEIR ENDING, AND THEIR MOMENTS OF TRANSFORMATION.

I KNOW YOU. I KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE BECOME. 

WHAT YOU COULD HAVE BECOME. WHAT YOU MAY YET BECOME.

THE AXOLOTL swam closer to float in between their faces, in between their linked hands forming a circle. Infinitely deep black eyes peered down at their hands.

Dipper knew that it was those clasped hands—the circle, the endless loop, the cycle of return and movement—that had brought THE AXOLOTL to them more than anything else. He knew it like a baby knew what it meant to cry, like a seed knew what it meant to sprout.

I WILL GIVE YOU A GIFT: THE MAGIC OF THE GALAXIES.

YOU WILL HELP UNMAKE A BEING WHO DOES ONLY AS HE WOULD PLEASE.

Dipper could feel that this moment was ending. Just before, though, he remembered THE AXOLOTL saying one last thing. A parting remark, a careless promise.

I HAVE ALWAYS LIKED TWINS.

Dipper and Mabel fell. THE AXOLOTL passed from between their arms. They could only watch as THE AXOLOTL shrunk once more, this time due to the pink form receding away from them as their bodies rushed downwards. As much as downwards counted for anything in space.

The stars bloomed around them, light racing to be seen, to find and caress the edge of the universe. Thousands upon thousands, millions, billions, numbers beyond reach, all of them bright eternal eyes of THE AXOLOTL.

All of those stars watched them fall. Their light was racing towards them, arms reaching to catch. 

Like the endless arc of a comet, Dipper and Mabel fell to Earth.

They woke up collapsed on the floor of their bedroom, still holding hands as they both righted themselves into a sitting position. A glow bounced off of the walls, filling the whole space. He could tell from the vivid red of his closed eyelids.

Dipper opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Mabel’s face. Her hair was floating around her head like they were underwater. Her eyes were wide and luminous and burning a bright white. So was her hair. 

Dipper opened his mouth and screamed in shock.

—

“This is your fault. This is your fucking fault, Sixer.”

Stan’s brother let out a groan in response, his face still pressed against the greasy tabletop of Greasy’s Diner. He was definitely getting syrup in his graying hair. The place lived up to its name. Stan would’ve laughed at him if he wasn’t too busy being pissed off.

“They were hidden,” Ford bemoaned. 

“Not well enough!”

Ford tilted his head to glare at Stan with one eye. “They stayed hidden for thirty years straight, Stanley. I would call that a good record.”

“And now one of them isn’t hidden,” Stan said, thoroughly unimpressed. He shoved his plate of eggs and bacon aside to lean over the table and prod Ford in the temple with his fork. “You are so, so fucking lucky they didn’t find the one with the ritual for Bill instead.”

Stan got to watch Ford pale as the reality of that risk occurred to him in real time. He prodded at him with the fork some more just to add to his twin’s misery. It was deserved misery.

Ford eventually straightened back up, smacking Stan’s hand away. He turned to look at the source of their hushed argument with a grimace.

A newspaper, the front page dedicated to the two newest heroes on the block: a pair of young twins with star power. There was a large, impressively clear picture of the pair before the article.

Stan and Ford had recognized them instantly. 

Sure, the glowing white hair and eyes made them look a little different, and the flashy outfits drew the eye away from the face, but those faces were completely uncovered. Of course they recognized their own niece and nephew.

There was only one way for the kids to get cosmic power from what Stan and Ford knew of. Ford’s own Journals, the third of which contained a ritual to call upon the stars for power.

Ford hadn’t made it work; he was already bound to an interdimensional being when he tried it. That was the theory he gave Stan when mentioning his attempt once, at least.

But Dipper and Mabel…

Stan told his brother, “Once we have a plan and we’re out of the public eye, I’m kicking your ass.”

Ford sighed. “I’ll deserve it. But I won’t go down without a fight.”

They finished their food. It was quicker than attempting to flag Susan down to get them a pair of to-go boxes, and Stan refused to let them pay for the food and then leave it behind. He might’ve been a supremely rich criminal now, but he wasn’t going to pay for shit he wasn’t going to eat.

Leaving a tip at Ford’s insistence—chronic goody-two-shoes—they made their way back to Stan’s El Diablo where they could actually talk openly. 

“We most likely can’t outright remove their magic,” Ford said, tipping his head back against the headrest. “If the magical being gave them their power, it wants them to have it. And trying to convince a god to take back their decision is…risky, at best.”

“And trying to ban them from going out and taking names won’t work either,” Stan grouched.

The kids were Pines—they already couldn’t be stopped from doing what they wanted in the first place. The second eyes weren’t on them, Dipper and Mabel could vanish from thin air and return in thirty minutes having gotten into a fist-fight with gnomes or video game characters come to life or other such fantastical issues that plagued the area.

And now those kids had magical powers. What little capacity Stan and Ford had to corral them had shrunk even further. The only ways Stan could imagine stopping the younger twins involved essentially imprisoning them and ruining their trust in him and Ford forever.

He rode the tail of the car in front of him just to make himself feel better. The driver rolled down her window and flipped him the bird, which did get a laugh out of him.

Ford was too busy massaging his temples to scold him. “No, it won’t. They’ll be worse than us at twelve.”

A terrifying notion. They had been absolute hellions at twelve, all without fancy new magical powers.

Stan drummed his fingers on the wheel, his mind turning over every possibility. He knew the scene and he knew those kids. Give them a week and they’d be going up against the biggest assholes on the block just because they couldn’t help but stick their noses into everything. 

If only they could learn on some easy targets, someone who wouldn’t really hurt them… but Stan couldn’t trust anyone to do that, now could he?

Anyone except—

“Hey, Ford,” he said slowly. “If we can’t stop them, we’ve gotta prepare them. How ‘bout we give them a practice round? Some two-bit villain to fight against and learn the ropes on?”

Ford picked up his head from his hands. “And who exactly do you suggest—”

He stopped and sighed, and Stan knew they were on the same page.

“I think it’s time for the Piranha to start swimming his old waters again,” Stan said, grinning. “And maybe Six-Shooter can show up out of the woodwork too, since one of his old heels is back in action. Maybe give some tips to the new heroes.”

He waited for Ford to shoot the idea down immediately.

Ford only looked out the windshield with a thoughtful frown tugging at his lips. “...I think that might be our best option at the moment. We could keep tabs on them like that—but we’re going to have to work double-time to keep all of this from them both in and out of the masks.”

Stan shrugged. “Eh, we’ve managed it so far. Can’t be too hard.”

He would come to regret those words. But for now, he believed them.

[cutielando]

hi! i was wondering if you could write an imagine with jj x reader kinda based of the scene jb and sarah “marry” each other when they were on the boat

married life | jj maybank

synopsis: in which you bound yourselves for life

pairing: jj maybank x wife!reader

my masterlist

Times were tough.

By this point in your life, you had gone through what other people never have to experience ever in their lives, let alone at such a young age.

You thought you would finally have some peace and quiet after Big John had come back. That things would finally have a sense of normality again.

But that was far from the case.

Ever since you head Big John’s plans to fine the mythical city of El Dorado and the gold, your blood had run cold in your veins.

You loved Big John, he was like a father figure to JJ and a protector to all of you, but this was taking it a step too far.

You had already put yourself in harm's way a number of times for your friends, giving your parents one too many reasons to completely disown you for the stress you would cause them.

Telling them that you were going to another continent to search for a city full of golf that might not even exist? They would murder you before you'd even get the words out of your mouth.

JJ, surprisingly, felt the same way.

He loved John B like a brother and saw Big John as his father figure, but even he could admit that the old man's tales sounded far too amazing to be a reality.

And, as much as he would want to go for the sake of his friends, he didn't want to take you with them, and he didn't want to leave you behind either. So, in his books, he couldn't possibly go with his friend and leave you unattended at home.

This sparked many conversations between you two, analyzing the situation and the spot you were in dozens of times. Searching desperately for an answer, for the universe to tell you what the right thing to do was.

But no answer ever came, so you were stuck trying to figure it out by yourselves.

"Are we being bad friends by wanting to stick back here?" you had asked JJ one night while the two of you were relaxing in the hammock installed in your backyard.

"We're just looking out for ourselves, like any sane person would. I don't want to put you in more unnecessary danger than I already have, I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Plus, you heard what John B said, he doesn't want us to go with them" he explained, twirling locks of your hair around his finger.

You sighed, nodding into his chest.

He was right, nobody should be mad at you guys for thinking about your safety, for once. You were trying to become more responsible, and this was the first step that would help you do that.

"I'd like to go, as far as one would want to leave their life behind to go on a deadly quest for a city of gold that might not exist, but my parents would definitely murder me if I told them about it" you joked, making the both of you laugh.

"They would murder me first for letting you even think about it, let's be honest" he added, making you laugh even harder.

As funny as that was to the two of you in that moment, he was right. Your parents were counting on JJ to keep you safe when they weren't around, and even though he had done exactly that even in your adventures, they would prefer it if you didn't leave home like that ever again.

"Thank you for keeping me safe all this time" you said softly, turning around so you were face-to-face with your boyfriend.

He smiled cheekily, thinking of a witty comeback, but he gave up once he saw the look of completely love you were giving him.

"It's my job, and it's not like you didn't take care of me either. I would have gone insane on that island if it weren't for you. We protected each other, and we're always going to look out for one another no matter what happens" he kissed your forehead, pulling away to look at you.

The bond you two shared is something nobody could ever understand.

You met at a time when you were both in a dark place, but especially JJ, because of his father. You were the first person not to run away when he completely broke down into your arms, telling you about all of the things his father had done to him over the years.

There was not even a second when you contemplated leaving him, or giving up on him. You couldn't imagine living in a world where he wasn't yours, right by your side and ready to tackle anything life threw at him with you by his side.

He was truly your one and only, the person that you wanted to grow old with and have children with, the only man you could ever love in this life.

The realization hit you like a tsunami, making your brain stop functioning and having a mind of its own.

Which is why the next words that stumbled out of your mouth shocked the both of you to the core.

"Let's get married"

JJ thought he had heard you wrongly at first. Surely, you couldn't actually mean that you wanted to get married, right?

You were both so young, and you always spoke about how you wanted to wait until at least 20 years old to get married.

"What?" JJ asked, chuckling a little to ease the tension.

In any other case, you would be embarrassed to the ends of the Earth, just asking him to forget you'd ever said anything.

But right now, in this moment, you were more confident than ever in your words.

"I don't mean that we actually go and get married, not yet anyway. But just between us, something only we are going to know. Be unofficially officially married. We don't need rings, we can just tie pieces of the bandana you gave me on your first date around our necks or something as a sign of our commitment to each other" you explained quickly, getting excited and unwrapping the bandana you always kept on your arm.

JJ chuckled, watching you scramble to tear thin pieces of the bandana for the both of you.

He didn't want to admit, but he loved you more in that moment than he had ever before. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you, shout from the rooftops that you're his and only his. So how could he ever think to deny you?

"I would love nothing more than to marry you" he whispered, giving you a long kiss before taking the bandana and wrapping it around your neck, you doing the same to him.

The feeling that you had that night was like nothing you had ever experienced.

As you sat with JJ under the starry night, limbs intertwined and hushed promises and kisses exchanged, there was nowhere you would rather be.

In JJ's arms.

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[sunny44]

All these years (Part 3)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Ex girlfriend! Reader

Warnings: slap, fights and maybe more things

Summary: Separated by a disagreement, Charles and Y/n meet again after years apart and all the feelings they had repressed come flooding back.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

My parents had already left for dinner at the Leclerc house and I was already showered and getting ready to order a pizza when the doorbell rang.

"I can't believe he really came." I said to myself and opened the door and saw Arthur standing there. “You really came here to get me. Seriously?”

"Of course I came, why didn't you came?"

"I don't want to see your brother, I didn't even want to come to the wedding so I wouldn't see your brother." He put his hand on his chest, feigning fake indignation. "I'm sorry but it's true and at the wedding I can still get away from him but there in your house with half a dozen people I can't."

"Y/n, he didn't even come, there was a problem with the plumbing in his apartment and the plumber couldn't fix it until today, so get dressed and let's go because my mother said I wouldn't have a wedding tomorrow if I didn't take you."

"Okay, let me just put some clothes on and fix my face." He agrees and I go to the bedroom.

I put on a simple black dress and sneakers, did a quick make-up just so I wouldn't look so bad and picked up my things.

I went downstairs and left my house accompanied by Arthur. As soon as we entered the house I could hear the laughter of my parents and his parents.

"Look who I brought!" he said, pulling me along.

"My God, you look beautiful." She says and hugs me. "How you've changed."

"Thank you, Mrs. Leclerc."

"It's just Pescale, darling." She smiles and runs her hand through my hair. "I missed you, it's been a while since you came to visit us, how is Milan?"

"I've missed you too and everything's fine, I've been promoted to head of the urban architecture sector."

"That's wonderful, I know how much you wanted that job."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why do you think?"

"That's great my love, I'm happy for you." My dad hugs me.

He always has a way of finding out about situations.

"Sorry I'm late, the plumber managed to get there early." he says as he walks in and stops as soon as he sees me there.

At that moment everything around me seemed to disappear except for him, it was the first time we'd seen each other in years, after all the best and worst moments of my life we were here.

Facing each other again.

"Hi darling, how are you?" My mom goes over to him and hugs him, and he takes his eyes off me.

"Hi Mrs. Y/l/n, I'm fine, how are you?”

"We're fine too." She smiles.

It had been years since I'd seen my mother smile like that, which made me roll my eyes.

"I thought you weren't coming." Lorenzo says, coming over.

"Actually, the problem was much smaller than it seemed and I managed to get the plumber to come early so everything was sorted. Where's Carla?”

"She's with her parents."

"Hi Y/n.”

"Charles."

"Greet him right Y/n."

"Don't push it, Mom."

"Well, shall we have dinner?" his mother says, changing the subject.

…

The only words we exchanged today were that greeting, then we distracted ourselves with other people on different subjects but always keeping a distance from each other.

"I think I'm going now," I said as I got up.

"Why don't you stay a little longer?" His mom asked.

"I really have to go; I haven't slept since I arrived early this morning, and I'm dead tired. I drove from Milan to here."

"Alright then, especially since tomorrow is the big day."

"We're leaving at 8 in the morning to go to the resort, okay?" Lorenzo said before I left.

"Well, in that case, I think it's best for all of us to go to sleep," Arthur got up from the couch.

"I'm going to stay around; I'm too tired to drive."

"Charles, your old room has your brother's things in it, so you can't sleep there."

"He can stay at our place." My mom said.

"Love, I..." my father tried to say it's a bad idea, but she obviously didn't care.

"Let's go, Charles, there's a spare room and no one will bother you there."

"That's great."

"Did you say something, Y/n?"

"I said 'that's great' in a very ironic way in case you didn't understand that as well."

I grabbed my phone and left there; I couldn't take my mother's jabs anymore or even look at him.

I took off my clothes and put on some pajamas, leaving the room to go to the bathroom and as I was about to open the door, Charles was coming out of it.

"Are you still going to use it?"

"Can you be less rude?"

"Are you going to use it or not?"

"No," he said and I went in.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and after going to the bathroom, I returned to the room, only to be faced with that jerk sitting on my bed.

"Excuse me, can you please leave?"

"We need to talk."

"We have nothing to talk about. You need to leave because I want to sleep."

"Please, love."

"Don't call me that. In fact, don't call me anything; forget that I exist."

"It's kind of hard to forget you." He looked me up and down with a malicious look, and I slapped him in the face. "What's your problem?"

"You're my problem, and you're a jerk, too." He laughed. "Look, we haven't seen each other in years, so pretend we never even met and leave me alone."

"I just want to apologize."

"And I don't want to hear it. Nothing you have to say changes what you told me years ago."

"I never meant to say those things."

"But you did, and the fact that you said them means that you considered them to be true, even if only for a moment." He fell silent. "You moved on with your life, and I moved on with mine. I don't want to go back to the past."

"I never wanted this to happen between us. You were the love of my life and I ruined everything out of selfishness. You would never have asked me to choose, and I had no right to do the same to you. I should have supported you as a decent boyfriend would, and all I did was say those horrible things to you." He spoke, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as I remembered. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, Charles, but your apologies doesn’t change anything. Your apologies don't change the fact that I feel disgust when I look at you. The anguish I feel in my chest when I see you is still the same, and that won't change."

"I understand, but I owed you an apology even if you don't accept it," I agreed. "Goodnight, Y/n."

He left and I locked the door. Those words were haunting my mind, and I swear if I weren't so tired, I would have stayed up all night thinking about it.

Tag list: @formulas-bitch @nuggetvirgo @lndonrris @cmleitora @janeholt3 @coffeewhore18 @blueflorals @agentadhd @eviethetheatrefreak @honethatty12 @lec-16 @ariamox @boherahpsody @ssararuffoni @leilani13gc @alldaysdreamer @minmira95 @dessxoxsworld @dessxoxsworld @vellicora @meadhbhcavanagh @viramila @lightdragonrayne @444elm0gizm0 @morenofilm @millinorrizz @leclercdream @buendiabebeta @ironmaiden1313 @julesandro @ssararuffoni @sialexia

[shattered-system]

The “Redefinition” of Systempunk

Updated version!

We're not typically an essay kind of blog, but there's something l've been turning over in my mind since l've seen it.

I have the post pulled up now actually, and about 11 hours ago @/the-alarm-system "recoined" (stole) the term systempunk in a long post, as well as designed a flag with its own meaning and I want to sort through some of it.

I also have a few personal pet peeves about their flag design, given that it's color palette clashes and the flag is way too busy. I don't expect it to spread far given that it violates several rules of good design (saying this as someone who has been to school for graphic design.)

I will not post it here, because I don't care to spread it any more than this post already may.

Their flag slightly predates my own version of the systempunk flag, but given that theirs was created for a separate concept with a stolen name, I maintain that we were the first.

We begin with their definition of systempunk.

“A term or Subculture surrounding the liberation of plurals and the critique of psychiatry."

First issue lies here. Both the destigmitization of dissociative disorders and critique of the psych field are extremely important discussions to have!

But they are separate discussions. There is absolutely overlap, but combining the two here is kind of shooting yourself in the foot, because then the conversation in that tag will be disorganized.

Have a systempunk movement AND an anti-psych or psych-critical movement. That way people can easily find the relevant discussions and terms.

This is followed up with a bit about the harm the psychiatric field has caused (not delving into that as that's not what this blog is about) and then circle back onto "the future is plural."

This is not one of the instances where OP means it in the "the future is destigmitization" sense, as they are pro endo. (On a side note, even ignoring the endo use of the phrase-- if I need to read about a slogan to understand the meaning of the slogan, it's a bad slogan. The point of a slogan is to communicate a concept quickly.)

The flag has black and brown stripes akin to the progress flag to represent systems of color, which is the only part of the design we have no critique for, but are describing anyway just as a bit of information.

The purple stripe stands for:

“Endo solidarity... endogenic systems are continuously harmed by antis who remain uncritical of psychiatry."

Once again, we are mixing two expansive concepts into one term.

The term anti-endo doesn't imply a position one way or the other on the psychiatry discussion.

Some anti-endos swear by the DSM5, others don't. Anti-endo is a term that means anti-endo/ endo-critical. That is all it means.

There is a difference between holding the DSM as the complete authority on mental illness and saying that a trauma disorder is caused by trauma.

I'm not sure if OP knows that and is choosing to cast anti-endos in a bad light, or legitimately confused. However, OP is a syscourse blog who is on a lot of blocklists and is spammy in the tags, and has likely been blocked by anyone who isn't also out looking to pick immature fights. (This is a system who made a post in all caps calling for an endo raid on #systempunk.)

Continuing directly from the last quote:

“[Antis] are against the liberation of plurals and deny a plural future in order to push singlethood onto others."

It's possible OP is referring to final fusion, which the anti-endo community is not a monolith on either. Most people we've interacted with are supporters of functional multiplicity (including ourselves.)

Most likely however, they mean that anti-endos "push singlethood" by telling endogenics that they can't have a trauma disorder without trauma.

And I could go into a whole tirade about that, but dozens of systems have done it before and I doubt any pro-endos have gotten this far. I am writing this for the anti-endo and on-the-fence audiences.

Visit @antimisinfo's helpful masterpost for a list of legitimate sources.

OP seems to believe that by “forcing” this singlethood, we are contributing directly to the oppression of systems. Hypocritically, OP themselves are contributing directly to the oppression of trauma victims.

Endogenics are not part of the "diverse experiences of plurality” (we are diverse, but united in origin) given that they don't exist. And if they did, they would have such a fundamentally different experience than trauma-formed systems that both groups would need separate language and tags to have space to themselves.

And endos already have a well-established punk tag for themselves. It seems they won't be happy until they chase trauma victims out of every space they create for themselves and steal every term. They've already stolen even the medical terminology used for CDDs.

The yellow stripe of the flag is meant to represent those with actual CDDs. Once again, psych stuff is brought up. However, I do agree with OP that those who do not want final fusion should not be pushed into it.

The pink and white stripes of the flag are entirely dedicated to anti-psych points. I think this would do wonderfully on it's own flag. But bringing the large range of discussion the anti-psych movement encompasses and the large range of discussion the CDD community has into the same tags is going to make it monumentally difficult to find the conversations you're wanting to have, and weaken both communities considerably.

There is a line of barbed wire across the flag that is partially for the same anti-psych movement as well as in favor of protecting and defending endogenic "identities." The ampersand stands for plurality.

There are fangs on the flag as well, encouraging systems to be loud and proud about their existence. And I agree that systems should make themselves known. However, endogenic systems don't exist, and their promotion will continue to drag us down.

I have read testimonies about traumagenic (real) systems being fakeclaimed or denied treatment by healthcare experts who, through exposure to endos, came to the conclusion CDDs are fake entirely.

Real systems seeking treatment and help after a lifetime of horrific abuse are being denied care.

Not to mention the setback of social acceptance by endos.

“Force plural liberation down the throats of others. Force the future to be plural."

[sojournerstales]

WF1999: Summer Heat ch.3

fem!drifter x eleanor

hey there. I think everybody has one of those hump chapters, but I figured some broader stuff out in writing this one. we're on loop 1, the year before the good end, btw.

03. I Like To Be Here

I can feel her breathing. It's through a layer of separation. That sensation of touch fed through the transference link. Eleanor's body against Mesa's. Mesa's hands on Eleanor's hips. Still it's there, body heat and a heart beating.

The last stretch home is made unscathed. We go down into the familiar underground, easily gliding by wrecks we have passed a dozen times before. Down here the soundscape changes. Everything feels closer and the roar of Eleanor's tomi echoes loud enough to drown anything else out.

Except there is that link between us. That psychic line kept open.

"Earlier. Back at the Zoo." I still sometimes worry that my thoughts projected would be seen as an intrusion, but I'm brave enough to start conversation.

"Mm?" Eleanor pulls back on the acceleration. The tomi reduces to a cruising speed and its roar pitches into a prolonged thrum.

"Something happened. I saw it. When you helped me up."

"Oh. That." Smooth turn. Eleanor and Mesa's body weight shift in sync to keep balance. We're almost home.

"Don't gotta tell me," I assure her, "But you can."

"You were being cute," Eleanor says eventually. She slows the tomi further. "I just wanted to eat you right up, my dear."

I feel a shiver and that gives me something to think about. It's my cheeks that feel hot, not Mesa's facial shell. I miss my chance to pick at it.

"Right-o. Last chance to brace yourself. I can feel the brooding tension of brother-dearest from here."

"So no chance of us just sneaking right through?"

-

No chance at all.

Mesa highlights two figures as Eleanor and I pull into the makeshift garage space. Arthur posted up by the task-board, his skana balanced with its tip on the ground and the hilt snug against the heel of his hand. Aoi sat cross-legged on the workbench next to Arthur.

"Lettie must be busy," Eleanor tells me. Her voice feels narrowed. I've learned this is the sensation of a private line. "There is no way she would miss this particular show."

We ride into center stage and Eleanor cuts the engine. Its final rumble echoes alone for a full second.

"You're missing a bike!" Aoi calls out at us, grinning.

Arthur grunts. It's a suitably dark and broody sound. He spins the skana once and then catches it. As far as I can tell, he's got all kinds of feelings about Eleanor and I getting close and I don't think all of them are good.

I have Mesa climb off the bike. She registers for my benefit Arthur's skana and Aoi's complete lack of conventional weaponry - highlighting then the metallic coils around Aoi's wrists. Before more detail starts to filter through I emerge from the frame. Mesa is rendered inert and I stand before her to begin explaining myself, "I wiped out. It's my bad, I --"

"While we appreciated the heads-up, I do not think you understood the sheer number that came after us. Or how fast." Eleanor's voice cuts through what I was going to say inside all of our heads. There is a brief, intentional pause for effect before she continues, "Personally I bless our lucky stars we got back here in one piece ourselves."

Arthur finally steps forward, "Maybe if at least one of you had stayed on communications --"

"Do you have any idea how far I have to go just for some peace and quiet? Apologies, brother, if I did not want one of you lot nattering away in my ear."

Aoi is about to say something, but she clocks the same thing that I do. Eleanor and Arthur coming face-to-face and a certain intensity about them. So Aoi gives me a look between the middle of them. I don't get the specifics of what she's trying to impart. I come from a world where thoughts and feelings are plainly spoken and Aoi just has so many expressions.

What I do get is out-of-signal radio static from Eleanor as her bickering with Arthur remains loud, but obfuscated.

"Listen!" I pipe up, trying to cut through whatever noise Arthur and Eleanor are immersed in. "Important part is that we made it, yeah? And lesson learned for next time. So why don't we just cool off?"

Aoi winces, but I think it's sympathetic.

Arthur scoffs and shoots me a look that could mean anything.

And Eleanor looks downright smug. I feel a small sensation in the back of my mind. A psychic nudge. Pat on the back? Soft elbow to my ribs?

"All I ask is next time you two decide to go walk-about, give one of us a heads up and stay. On. The. Line." He wipes sweat from his forward with the crook between thumb and finger, then addresses me specifically, "We're not on holiday here."

I hold my hands up in surrender. I'm not about to talk back to Arthur, not when he's worked up like this. I know how well Eleanor can needle him. We'll touch base later. He's already heading back into the mall proper anyway.

Eleanor is too, not turning to look at either Aoi or I. "Well I need a lie down. Ta-ta, lovely. And you, Aoi."

It leaves Aoi and I in the garage and she's looking at me. Really looking at me. And unfolding from her seated position and getting to her feet and coming up close.

"What?"

She smiles.

"What?" I whine.

"She left in a strop and came back in a good mood," Aoi muses, she shrugs her shoulders high and walks a meandering circle around me before coming back to my side and leaning on my shoulder, "You're good with her. Or..."

"Or..?"

"You are good... With each-other?"

"I don't know. Maybe?" I groan outwardly and slap my palms against my face.

Aoi takes my hands and pulls me forward a step. "Oh it's just so cute! You fixed the fumble, then?"

"I fixed the fumble." Why did I have to tell Aoi everything?

"Yay! We did not fix the AC!" Aoi delivers that like it shouldn't be bad news. It does soften the blow. "It's like a heatwave in there. Really makes me wish we had a pool. Or wish more than just my face and palms could sweat." Aoi looks down at her hands in mine, "Sorry," and her expression wrinkles. "Clammy."

"You're good." We let go of each other and side-by-side make our way into the mall.

Aoi wasn't kidding. Between the civilian population we had let in, the veins of infestation binding certain walls together, the sky lights, and everything else, it's a heatwave. "... I could have Yareli hose us down," I muse out loud.

"Is that the magical girl?" Aoi gasps, I can practically hear the sparkle-eyes emoticon.

"Yeah," I snort, "Criminal I haven't introduced you two yet."

"You will do that. One hundred percent. Once I am less busy. I might need to convince Amir that one of the arcade cabinets is to be sacrificed to the AC Gods. Or we find scrap parts from somewhere else."

"Anything I can do?"

"Ohh, you could hand out water bottles? You could..."

Work in the Central Mall never really ends. Even before we let refugees in. It's a place held together by spit, duct tape, and techrot. It's a home, too. I walk with Aoi to the arcade and see Amir challenging two kids at once on a pair of arcade cabinets. And in a similar vein there is a trio of young girls thinking they are being sneaky behind a planter as they all watch Eleanor walk by - fear and excitement. Arthur looks to be having an important conversation with Lettie. It's terse, until she puts a hand on his shoulder and I watch as both of them relax.

Finally - as I'm making my way back to my room - Quincy catches me walking by. Things are tense there too. He's still trying to figure me out. He nods before turning back to the pair of lads he was talking with. They've a box of merchandise between them. I doubt Arthur approves.

In some ways it reminds me of the camp Kahl had set up. Or even before then the underground networks of the last free people in Narmer space. And even before then I realize maybe this - this right here - is what Duviri's market square always failed to emulate.

Nothing here is so clean and tidy.

part 3 of 4?

prev - next

[mittenskittensslay]

Aw, Ik! It sucks! Yeah, I feel like I have the ideas I get really psyched about but...

Going through a burnout

But having LOADS of ideas

Is AWFUL WHY IS IT HAPPENING??

I can't keep track of the ideas i get but i also can't start working on them bc i'm incapable of writing

Everything feels so fucked up now

ANYWAY

[ellabsprincess]

movie date (abbyxreader)

@oatmilkchaii hi hi baby you wanted something filthy so here you go <3 hope you like it!!

this may or may not be inspired by a nsfw audio that has been rotting my brain the entire day, like i need abby to rail me immediately

anywaysss

word count: 1.7k

warnings: smut, fluff, modern au, dom!abby, sub!reader, reader is girly and wears a skirt, abby is kinda rich in this, they fuck in an empty movie theatre, abby has a FAT strap, fingering, cunnilingus, pet names (baby, princess), use of a vibrator, abby is a tease, manhandling

"surprise!" abby lifted her hands that had been covering your eyes to reveal a movie theatre before you. "i rented the whole theatre, so we have the entire place to ourselves" she leaned in and spoke directly in your ear as she finished her sentence, making her intentions clear.

you played innocent, pretending not to hear the seductive tone in her voice. "oh my god abby! this is amazing!"

"and the best part is, we're watching your favorite movie" abby said with a soft smile.

"baby! this is the best date ever!" you threw your arms around her neck in a tight hug, her hands finding your hips. pulling your head from her shoulder, your lips met in a grateful kiss. you loved kissing abby, as her lips always tasted like cherry and she smelled like pine, and combined with the softness of her lips, it was pure heaven every time.

"c'mon, let's get to our seats!"

with her hand on your lower back, she guided you to the back row of the theatre, where popcorn as well as your favorite drinks and candies were already waiting for you.

you giggled as you sat down, ecstatic over the date and the pure thoughtfulness and kindness of your girlfriend. abby loved grand gestures and expensive dates, and she managed to make each one so personal and intimate.

after a few minutes of enjoying the snacks and chatting with abby, the lights dimmed, and your favorite movie began to play on the screen. you had seen this movie dozens of times, but it never seemed to bore you. it wasn't abby's favorite movie necessarily, but she loved it because of how happy it made you and how cute you looked mouthing along to the lines you knew by heart.

as the movie was playing, abby's hand slowly made its way to your thigh, bunching up the skirt material to lay her hand on your bare skin. her fingers that were big yet surprisingly soft began to massage the meat of your thigh, making you shiver. abby noticed the change in your body language, and smirked as she glanced over at you.

as her hand began to inch higher and higher to the place where you needed her most, she leaned in and whispered in your ear. "i brought a vibe and your favorite strap if you wanted to fuck around a bit baby."

"fuck yes please abby," you nearly moaned in response.

"good girl."

reaching into her bag that she always carried with her everywhere (since she could never have her pretty girlfriend worry about carrying anything), she pulled out a small vibe, one you recognized as being remote controlled. it was her favorite to use on you, of course.

leaning over and kissing up your neck, her hand wandered up your skirt and to your panties, which she pulled aside before placing the vibe right on your throbbing clit.

kissing your cheek as she turned to grab her phone, you waited in anticipation. as soon as she opened the app and turned the vibe on, you started letting out quiet moans.

"shh, just focus on the movie baby," she said with a devilish look in her eyes.

she was downright cruel with the vibe settings. one second it would be on the lowest setting, making you want to beg her for more, and the next it would be pulsing at the highest setting, edging you closer to a release. as your moans got louder and you began to grind your hips in search of your impending orgasm, the vibrations stopped.

"no no abby, i was so close!"

"aww baby, you know i only let my pretty girl cum on my mouth or on my cock. that was just to warm you up, you should've known better," abby said with faux pity in her voice.

she gave you a sweet kiss before reaching down and taking the vibrator out of your panties. her fingers swipe through your folds, causing you to whine.

"fuck baby you're soaked, do you think my mouth would make you feel better?"

you nodded quickly, causing abby to chuckle.

"okay, just relax and watch the movie," she said, as she got out of her seat and kneeled before you. your legs spread on instinct, and abby reached up under your skirt to pull your soaked panties down your legs.

the cool air hitting your soaked folds make you squirm, but you were quickly relieved as abby's warm tongue licked a stripe from your hole to your clit.

"oh abby fuck oh my god."

abby's lips found their way around your puffy clit, and she sucked lightly, causing you to buck up into her mouth. her strong hands found your hips, pinning you to the seat beneath you.

"quit squirming and watch your movie, princess."

you obeyed her commands, letting out soft moans and gasps as she sucked and licked your pussy, and finally returning your gaze to the movie. it was difficult to keep your eyes steady, as the way abby's tongue was now fucking in and out of you rapidly was making you want to roll your eyes into your head. as abby was satisfied with your obedience, she rewarded you by removing one hand from your hip to find your dripping hole.

her warm mouth returned to your clit as her fingers circled her pussy before she plunged them in, finding your sweet spot immediately. you could almost no longer hear the movie over the wet squelching of your pussy as abby's fingers fucked in an out of you repeatedly and her tongue flicked over your clit. you were so close, and abby knew, the sounds coming from your pussy were indication enough.

"come on baby, just cum for me, that's it,"

your moans were affecting abby as well, as she felt herself soaking her boxers. what finally sent you over the edge was her moaning on your clit, so overwhelmed from her own arousal and the sweet taste of you. you came with a high-pitched whine, soaking your girlfriend's face.

"that's my good girl," abby said, her mouth leaving you. "god you're so fucking sexy and you taste so fucking good." abby was clearly pussy-drunk as she rose to her feet to capture your lips in a bruising kiss.

she sat back down in her chair, taking a moment to catch her breath and clean off her face and fingers.

after you both had recovered, you rose from your chair to sit yourself over her wide, muscular thighs.

"you said something about packing your strap?"

"yes i did baby," abby said with a coy smile as she grabbed your hand and directed it towards her crotch, where you could feel that she was already wearing her strap.

you helped her unzip her pants, pulling her strap out. just as you were about to sink down, she stops you.

"no baby, i want you to finish your movie. turn around."

shivers flow down your spine as you reposition yourself so your back is to abby in her lap, and you can now see your movie once again.

"good fucking girl. you ready for me?"

"i'm always ready for you, abs"

"that's fucking right," abby praises as she slides her strap through your folds before letting you sink down onto her girthy cock.

the strap is your favorite because its so wide and it reaches you so deep, and god, does abby know how to use it.

she starts off slow, just gently moving your hips up and down, but once she knows you've adjusted, she's an animal. she's fucking up into you so good that your eyes are watering and you can't think about anything except her.

it feels so good, you feel nothing but bliss. she's reaching that beautiful, deep spot inside you, and her pace is almost overwhelming. the way her strong hands manhandle you so easily makes you feel so powerless yet so safe, unable to do anything except take her strap.

abby's pace is making the base of her strap grind against her clit so deliciously, and she's desperate for your as well as her own release. she's needy and almost delirious in your ear.

"so fucking good baby"

"you were made for me princess"

"i love this pretty pussy so much, god you're making me feel so good"

her hips begin to stutter, and you know she's near her orgasm.

"cum for me baby, that's it," she's gasping in your ear as she comes in her pants from the stimulation, and you follow soon after her, gushing on her strap.

you're both out of breath, and you can feel your thighs shaking. slowly, you life yourself off of abby's strap, whining softly at the empty feeling, before turning around to face your girlfriend again. she's got a huge fucking grin plastered on her face from her orgasm and the fact that her pants are now clearly soaked from your orgasm. she sits up and removes her strap and its harness, placing it in her bag, before motioning for you to sit back in her lap.

"i love you so much, princess" she says, peppering light kisses all over your face.

"i love you more baby" you blush, relaxing into her chest.

you just listen to the rest of the movie, having seen it enough times to not care to actually watch the ending. right before the credits roll, you drag yourself up from abby's embrace to make yourself at least somewhat presentable. abby notices your shaky legs and laughs to herself before standing up and helping you put your panties back on and fixing your skirt.

her pants are still clearly soaked, so the both of you make a dash out of the building once the movie is done, hoping no one notices both of your inappropriate states.

finally reaching abby's car, you both get in before bursting out into laughter.

"wow, we need to fuck in public more often," abby says between gasps for air.

"yeah, we really do."

[depizan]

I don't think I actually got around to grumbling about this, but there's this very weird thing that comes up in a lot of fiction that I don't really understand. It could be an aro/ace problem or it could be one of those common tropes that just doesn't actually make any sense if you think about it.

There will be a couple of characters who adventure together (either as just the two of them or as part of a bigger group) and they'll start to get romantic/sexual feelings for each other and then the weird trope appears:

Oh, no, we can't. If we have sex/call ourselves a couple/admit our feelings, we won't be able to deal with seeing each other in danger, so for the good of the group/the quest we're on/whatever, we can't be together. Even though we can continue to work together and continue to be friends. (Aside from whatever hurt feelings/difficulties having to not get together causes.)

Excuse me. So...seeing your friends take risks, potentially get hurt (or even killed), etc causes no problems at all, but if you have sexytimes, its suddenly an issue? That doesn't make any goddamn sense. Unless the message is supposed to be that people only really truly care about each other if they bone and or call themselves a couple. Friends, pff, those are a dime a dozen. Who cares if they die or get hurt. You just get another. Like goldfish.

Though if that is the message, it's generally undercut by the fact that these people have been risking their lives for each other as friends the whole time. Both the couple and anyone else in the group. So all you're really left with is this giant WTF.

But if we love each other, then seeing each other in danger will make us make mistakes or take risks we shouldn't!

Like all those risks you've already taken for even the members of the group you only sort of like, never mind the ones you consider friends, or each other already? Those risks?

It's like the nonsense at the end of the first Sam Rami Spider-man movie, where Peter's all "I can only be your friend" to Mary Jane because if he dates her, she'll be at risk. Because villains never kidnap your friends and dangle them off buildings, only your love interest. It's in the supervillain fine print.

Only worse, because in these cases, both people are already doing the dangerous thing together.

Is it that the Narrativium might try to kill one of you if you bone? (Because the Narrativium is made up of slasher movie monsters, I guess?)

Though it can't really be that, because most of the time (possibly all of the time), the couple eventually does get together, sexytimes and all, and nothing bad happens. At least if they're really both main characters.

(They're secretly afraid one of them isn't a main character and so is at risk for fridging?)

I don't know. It's just a weird, weird trope that unintentionally (I hope) implies that the only relationships that like actually matter are sexual/romantic ones. Well, and/or that the particular characters involved don't actually care about their friends very much.

[eddo-tensei]

Fighting to continue the era where online communities are free

I understand that some of you are waiting for me to update some fanfics. However, I've been embroiled in what could only be described as a fight for the internet to stay open. For those who aren't aware, there are various bad bills surrounding the internet that are either in committee or on their way to the Senate Floor. They all share one thing in common: overly broad provisions that could lead to mass censorship of various things online and a complete chilling of free expression, especially if you're part of the LGBTQ+ community or other marginalized groups. I've already spoken about these bills on this blog and the fact there are talks of a possible package being made is continuing this discussion. Thankfully, I'm not alone in this fight. EFF, Fight for The Future, and the ACLU are all fighting against the bills and starting Thursday, will bring out a mass protest. That said, the protest can only get big if you guys come in. That's why I'm making this post.

These are blog posts made by two of the organizations I mentioned. They both hold petitions for you to sign in order to oppose these bills, but the latter site made by Fight For The Future allows you to actually call your lawmakers so you could tell them to oppose these bills. They give you scripts and everything. The deadline given by the organizations is July 28th, which is when the Senate is supposed to go into recess. If we can prevent any of these bills from going through before that, we can consider it a mission accomplished. If you need more info on some of these bills, let me provide you with some Linktrees.

I know it feels like I'm asking a lot from you guys, but I hope you can do what you can and spread this around. We're facing a massive wave of bad news and we've seen a glimpse of what could happen thanks to the DDOS of AO3, but we cannot let ourselves be toppled over by them. We have to push back and ensure a better future for ourselves, the people around us, and the children who deserve to gain a free voice in the future.

[pinehutch]

When I say that I want to be evil

what I mean is I want to be powerful. What I mean is I want to be free.

Some weeks ago I spent more money than I should have on my first ever (ever!) two-piece swimsuit. You have to understand that as a child I was told I was fat, and as a teen I was told I was fat, and as an adult I've always been fat*, and you can't read your way out of the shame caused not strictly by the word but by its connotations.

(I know, because I've tried. I have been trying for almost twenty years. Looking for plus-sized fashion brought me to the digital 'fatosphere.' It made me a better person as I learned about another dimension of intersectionality and about power and oppression. It made me feel like I could wear clothing that I liked. It made me more informed about the diet and wellness industry. It's been over 20 years since I first read a critique of the BMI; it's been almost as long since I started wondering why gros/se in my close-second language didn't have the same (haha) weight to it as fat does, in my first.)

At the tail end of June, days long and scorching, I stepped into a two-piece swimsuit with a deep-v neckline and my whole midsection exposed and I spent the day in full view of dozens (hundreds?) of strangers. Cold, cold water on the joints; warm, soft pools for the evening. My hair got bigger and bigger. My neck and chest sunburned. My midriff stayed comically, blindingly pale, and everything else? It was lovely; it was fine. I rarely thought about my body, unless it was 'this feels nice' or 'my swimsuit is so pretty.' I took a selfie, even, though I deleted it. I was worried that posting it would count as thirst-trapping; shame has cored out and replaced so much of me. It was a good pic, though, and I wish I'd kept it.

What was true of me that day: I was a quite tall, very fat femme person whose feet swell with arthritis and whose hair takes up the entire frame and who's had cellulite since grade eight. What else was true: many people complimented my swimsuit. I looked out across the valleys and the mountains from the top of my almost-six-feet. I let my shoulders roll back and smiled at the sight of my bare skin gone blue-wavering-dappled beneath the surface. I stood tall. I made eye contact. I enjoyed delightful company, and let that enjoyment extend to the simple pleasure of having a body that felt fairly good, in garments I had chosen for the joy of it.

You can't read your way out of shame; it's only part of the equation. I didn't go swimming the next day with my family members, because I didn't want to feel them looking at my body and being disappointed that What A Beautiful Girl turned out like I did (though: if What A Beautiful Girl then why You Need To Watch What You Eat?). But for an entire day I felt like anyone else, gentle enough, good enough, in my skin.

It would have been good for me to swim with my family that weekend, because I'm finding that - as in all things - the practice is important. You can't read your way out of shame, not entirely, but in working with and through it there's maybe a chance to rewrite our stories.

There's a fallacy that I think a lot of us fall into, when we're trying to counter and challenge fatphobia, both culturally and in ourselves. It's the fallacy of the Good Fat. It's why I want to tell you about how two-pieces are maybe a better swimwear choice for me because of the drastic difference between my tits and hips vs my waist. It's why I wanted to post that selfie, so people could shoutycaps and fire emoji me on twitter. It's why I want to craft this post into a narrative where spending a single day mostly-unburdened by body shame has led to a hot girl summer, and I'm walking for miles every day and going to the pool four times a week. (I'm not. I still have a day job, and writing to do, and a physical disability, and the ol' depression. I'm more active than I was three months ago, and working to improve that, but still. It's not a lot.)

It is, simply, the same lie as we tell ourselves along so many different axes of marginalization: that as long as we are exceptional in a way equal and opposite to our marginalization, we'll be fine. It's the model that says you earn the right to exist fat and unashamed by being healthy, by being active, by being hot. Sorry my hip is squished against yours on the airplane; at least I've got a nice face and good hair and am well-dressed, wanna admire my hip-to-waist ratio about it?

There's no such thing as a Good Fat because we live in an inherently fatphobic world. I mean: airplane seats are too small for anyone average sized. I mean: 20 years ago I was a size 16/18 and couldn't fit into the newer lecture hall seats at my university without a lot of stress and embarrassment. I mean: I can't buy a compression sleeve for my arthritic joints at the drug store. If I ever needed to take Plan B, it might not work because I weigh (as do most adults of my acquaintance) more than 165lbs. You cannot be hot enough or active enough or well-dressed enough to escape from this; the only option is to be Not Fat.

But why on earth would we want to accept this? We know the system is fucked up and evil, and so: we want to be evil. Just a little bit, just enough. We want to be hot villains. We want to serve cunt and to be cunts. We want to nailcare emoji, fire emoji, crown emoji, and we want to take no prisoners unless it's between our thick thick thighs. Sit on their face; if they die, they die. It's fun and sexy, in a world where "everything is sex, except sex, which is power" to dig in and grab handfuls of what looks like empowerment, fuck the rest of it, get what makes you feel best.

It's a mirage; freedom doesn't live there.

Because of course fat people are hot. Fat bodies are desirable. Fat bodies are strong, sometimes, and athletic, sometimes, and powerful in whatever way you'd like to read that. That's true no matter what.

And yet (this will hurt) fat bodies are still (I'm sorry, I'm so sorry) not good enough. If the system is the problem, your individual empowerment is not the (whole) solution.

When I say that I want to be evil, what I mean is I want to be free. I want the strange rare days I've known I was desirable because I was desired, specifically and individually. I want the days where I grant myself dignity. I want the day where I lived peacefully in my mostly-naked body around hundreds of strangers, and went to bed happy.

Reading is input, it's taking in. I can't read my way all the way out of fatphobia, out of body shame because that's like trying to put out a forest fire 2000km away by throwing baking soda on your stove element. (Not harmful, but insufficient and misdirected.) It has been so helpful to know that other people wrestle with all of this, in ways that are more intelligent and expert than mine; it doesn't change material reality, though.

It's not the shame that's the problem, but where it comes from. It's not my internalized fatphobia or low self-worth or lack of body confidence that keeps people from life-saving medical care because their doctors were obsessed with their weight instead of their symptoms. My soft abdomen has never shamed a stranger on the internet, my calves (never in tall boots) haven't forced someone to buy a second seat.

Maybe it's time that I redefine what I mean when I say I want to be evil. I want to be a hot villain that was justified in their takedown of the status quo. I want to put a crown on every head. I want these thick thighs under me as I pull you into my lap and love you, and to use those fire emojis to make room for new growth.

I want us all at the pool together, celebrating as the sun sets.

*I'm using "fat" to here mean something like "size 16 US women's or larger," but there's no good definition

[emilykaldwen]

*pinches the bridge of my nose*

Okay kids, sit down. I think things in the fandom space needs a little clarification.

Fan Artists and Fan Fiction writers are frustrated and upset about how the reblog rate has plummeted over the years as the rest of the internet moved to a 'hit the heart to help the algorithm'. Tumblr doesn't work that way. Likes don't do anything for a post, it just locks it in your personal scrapbook.

You Do Not Have to Reblog things YOU do not want to

When people say 'reblog the post' they mean reblog instead of ONLY hitting the like button. Tumblr relies on reblogs to put things on your dash. If you're liking something, then it hits your interests, and you should be reblogging it.

HOWEVER YOU ARE NEVER OBLIGATED TO REBLOG ALL THE THINGS.

Most people, including myself, will reblog from friends because we're friends! I support your foray into a fandom space I have no understanding of, but odds are if you are into it, then some of my other mutuals may be into it so I'll reblog. But I'm not out here reblogging every post I see from people I don't know in fandom spaces I'm not familiar with. It's my blog. I curate what I'd like. Some people have a dozen sideblogs for every fandom niche interest. Some of us just have the one blog and you strap in for whatever fandom chaos we go on. If you tag me in something, I occasionally miss it because I get the notification on my phone but don't have the free moment to do it and forget. Or maybe I add it into my queue.

When you are creating something you need to be mindful of your audience.

I'm in my mid 30s. I do not play in the Disney space (I know Disney Descendents is popular? That came out waaaaay after my time I don't know what it is), I don't know what that girl with the ghost band thing is that was going around a few years ago. I have fellow adult friends who do not engage with fan creation that involves minors. Additionally, I've seen people create OCs for shows like Criminal Minds. Hey! more power to you, I've never watched the show, and I know there's fic out there (I had someone tell me about a what I think was a Harry Potter/Criminal Minds crossover??? wow), but it's not going to get the same kind of traction as say, a Teen Wolf fan work.

I'm not saying don't create for your niche interests! CREATE! BE FREE AND MERRY! but understand that those creations just won't get the same kind of traction because it's a niche interest.

We create for ourselves, we share to find other people who enjoy our hobbies.

Which brings me to my second point:

NO ONE IS KNOCKING ON YOUR BEDROOM DOOR TO MAKE FRIENDS

Making friends is hard! I totally get it. But a sure fire way to turn people off way fast is to start a conversation with me but make it abundantly clear you care about nothing that I say/offer and are just waiting for your turn to talk so you can tell me about YOUR things and expect ME to ask questions. Conversation is a two way street. It's a back and forth. It is not me sitting there like a parent patiently listening to my child tell me about the cool toy adventure they're doing. I'm not your parent. I'm not your captive audience. I'm another person, and if you want friends - MEANINGFUL friends - then you need to make an effort to engage with people.

And it's hard. It's hard because so many people out there are very navel-gazey, and people get so caught up in the excitement of their own creations that they forget to ask other people about theirs. And... you're gonna have to be okay with that. You're gonna have to be okay with it feeling like pulling teeth, and know that hey! you're never gonna be buddy buddies with everyone. You just keep being you, you just keep showing the kind of person you are, and eventually it'll happen.

It's taken me over a decade to form meaningful mature friendships online. I've had friends over the years, ofc, but it's only now, when I can approach something with clear expectations and not thinking everyone is off having fun without me in some little clique, that I've been able to connect with people more honestly. And taking a five year break from tumblr helped a lot with that. I bought a house, I got a new job, I did other meaningful things with my life that wasn't on the internet.

The internet isn't actually a popularity place. You do not have to be popular to exist. I have been on tumblr since the inception pretty much. I have 200 followers and I only interact with 10 of them, maybe 15. And I'll tell you that outta those 200, 90% of them are blogs that haven't updated in years. A follower count does not promise reblogs, does not promise friends. It's literally impossible to be best buddies with 2000 people, to have a meaningful connection with every. single. one.

anyway I'm tired. I'm too old for this shit. Go touch some grass, go get off tumblr and play a new video game, join a book club, read more books, do things that aren't perpetually refreshing your dash and thinking everyone is off having fun without you because I promise you it's not fucking true. You need to have a life offline. You need a hobby that doesn't involve the computer. Seriously. Go touch grass.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.174 Eighty four years

Dub and Maia's wedding was incredibly beautiful, not because of the location or decorations because they had none and did it on a sidewalk. The beauty came from the sentiments shared between them. When he called all frantic about proposing, I told him to tell her what's in his heart because our women love it when we're vulnerable to them. It makes them feel safe. But what he did was so much greater than that. Not only did he speak from the heart but also he revealed his innermost secret, which reminded me so much of myself in my younger days. He admitted to not being as confident, strong, and cool as he purports to be. Admitting to be a fake was such a risky move, but it touched me. That's a phase many men go through, and at some point we have to face the music and be real with ourselves and everyone in our lives. It's the only way to move forward and grow. And for him to do that in his vows on this sacred day? That took guts, and I have so much more respect for him.

After dozens of pictures and selfies, how about this dude offered to babysit so me and Sophia can go out tonight...his wedding night! It turns out that his brother, who was only invited to babysit, met a girl and made plans, so Dub and Maia weren't going to do any celebrating tonight, anyway. Even so, his offer was incredibly kind! I only pushed back a little bit, and it didn't take much to twist my arm. He might be the only friend I have who can volunteer to watch my child and I accept with no questions asked. Sophia didn't hesitate either when I told her about the offer on the way back to the rental. He was right about it being umpteen years since me and my extra special lady went on a date, and I was as giddy as the first time we went out.

As much as we enjoy looking good, our wedding attire wasn't quite our vibe for a date night. We were elegant and looked more like hot mayor and first lady, heh. We're more grown and sexy and I see you looking, so we changed. Sophia went all out, changing her hair and everything, so I ran an errand while I had a chance. Dub told me about a gift shop in the park in the park across the street, and I picked up a few things to sweeten our evening—partial pun intended, heh. Romance was never my thing, but I know women. Some are practical, like Maia. Others are idealists, hopeless romantics...the list goes on and on. Whatever type they are, all of them enjoy being surprised with a gift from time to time. I've never given Sophia a flower bouquet before. That should be just the thing to set the tone for the night.