#which is exactly why i feel like i should post it

[ceratedfish24]

People REALLY liked my Scottho post, which I thought might get maybe 17 notes if even that, so, uh, here’s a dabble based on literally one line towards the end of Etho’s 5th episode of Wild Life.

—————

“Best Decision I’ve Ever Made” -Etho

The rain lashed against the cobblestone roof above Scott’s head. For the sake of privacy and as a defense mechanism against Impulse and Cleo’s snoring, Pearl and Scott had put up cherry wood walls between the four color coordinated beds in the small base. Scott had thought about putting a window by his bed, but he figured it was best to keep his enemies from being able to see into his base in a death game. The blankets were heavy, and Scott was lying on his stomach, completely limp. His cerulean eyes drooped. Grian’s games were fun, but they were also exhausting. If he was being honest, his favorite part came after the games, when he was curling up in his bed with his cat and sleeping for hours and hours after a whole pot of pasta.

There was a knock on the door.

Scott’s shoulders had just settled into the mattress, but he shoved himself up from the bed. His chest was heaving just from pulling himself onto his knees on his bed, and he took a moment to decompress from that effort alone. Nobody else was going to answer the door. Scott is nothing if not selfless. He puts his weight onto his left hand, feeling it sink into the sheets, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

The teal haired man stumbled his way to the door of his room and leaned against the frame, running his hands through his bed head. If he was going to answer the door in the middle of the night, he may as well look the best he can manage to represent his team. Scott’s feet dragged themselves to the front of their base, shoulders sagging. Impulse’s snores were faint, but they were audible. Scott pulled his head up to look through the small window in the door. A black eye and a red eye looked back at him. The blue haired man shot upright.

“Etho?” Scott swung the door open towards himself. The poor man’s white hair dripped and sagged over his headband, covering it completely. Etho’s eyes were as sunken in as Scott’s, and they were almost hidden in the dark of the night. Water rushed down his skin, dappled with sun and age. The torches covering the base were like a bonfire outlining Etho’s lean frame. Scott was starting to think he had overdone it with the mob spawn-proofing.

“I know this-” Etho couldn’t finish his sentence, before Scott was dragging him inside by his dripping vest. Scott was too tired to notice how Etho’s eyes dropped to look at his lips, momentarily confused as to the blue boy’s intentions.

“What are you doing out here?” Scott slammed the door shut behind them and practically threw himself into his team’s storage. He fished out the thickest wool blankets they had. Cleo had prepared them for the team during the early days of the game, before they had walls and a roof over their heads to keep out the wind. They didn’t need such heavy blankets now that they were in a safe little abode, but Scott was a hoarder. This was exactly why. He wrapped them securely around Etho’s shoulders, and his hands brushed Etho’s neck. The white haired man was ice cold, but he wasn’t shaking. Scott knew cold like nobody else. Etho should be freezing. His teeth should be chattering, and his nose should be running. Maybe Scott would never understand how Etho had managed to reach such a point in his life that such conditions were normal to him.

“Bdubs stole my bed,” Etho shrugged, hugging the blankets closer to him, digging his fingers into the fabric. “You have- uh. Thank you,” Scott would not have been surprised if Etho was about to admit that he hadn’t seen a blanket in weeks. “I know that I was the one who said that we- uh, that we would keep it, keep this alliance on the downlow, but…”

Scott blew on his hands several times and pressed them against Etho’s masked jaw. It was tense. That must be why his teeth weren’t chattering. Etho stared at Scott. The tension in his shoulders, even under the thick wool, visibly relaxed, and his head dropped into Scott’s palms, which felt like a fireplace on Etho’s face. The stiffened joints in Etho’s neck audibly cracked, and Scott could practically feel the knots in Etho’s shoulders and upper back unraveling.

“You don’t have to apologize for wanting to be warm,” Scott murmured. Thumbs rubbed Etho’s cheekbones, which seemed to jut from his face. The blue haired boy made a mental note to feed this lanky man.

Part of Scott wanted to pull Etho’s head into his neck and cradle his shoulders, letting the man put all his, admittedly very minimal for such a tall survivalist of a man, weight on him. He pulled away instead. Scott pulled a towel out from the chest monster and draped it over Etho’s head. A surprised little “oh!” squeaked out of Etho’s throat, as Scott dug his hands into the towel and mussed Etho’s soaked hair, doing his best to dry it. Trying his best to keep his head still, Etho squeezed his eyes closed, as Scott bunched the towel in his hands on Etho’s scalp. The redstoner’s hair was pretty short. Scott didn’t have to try too hard to get it dry enough.

“Uh, do you have an extra, an extra bed?” Etho shuffled in place and rolled his shoulders. Scott did not have an extra bed, nor did he have the resources to make one. The G’s had yet to move their livestock, so shearing sheep would require a fifteen minute run to and from the island far from the rest of the bases in the rain and darkness.

“Yeah. It’s in that room,” Scott handed Etho a water bottle and nodded to his own room, pulling the blanket off of Etho. “You go ahead. I should set up a hook in here to dry this.”

Reluctantly, Etho pulled his mask down. Scott turned away respectfully, but he could hear Etho drinking. He sounded like he hadn’t had fresh water in a year, before he made his way to the ‘spare’ room. He stood in the doorway for a moment and looked back at Scott. The dry man did his best to ignore it, pretending everything was normal. Scott wrung the water out of the blanket in his hands and draped it over his shoulder, opening the chests to look for the materials for a tripwire hook. Etho’s eyes softened, and he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

“This is your room,” Etho stated. Scott huffed and half-heartedly picked through a chest for string.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Scott tried.

“I’m tired, Scott. I’m not clueless. The whole room is blue,” Etho argued. Scott threw the blanket onto the chests.

“We don’t have a fifth bed,” Scott mumbled, defeated, and looked up at the taller man. Etho shrugged nonchalantly. He hadn’t pulled his wet mask up. His lips had a scar running through them. It looked like it might have been from the same attack that scarred over his eye. Scott ignored that he was looking at Etho’s lips.

“So I’ll sleep on the blanket.”

“Absolutely not.” The blue haired boy sped over to Etho and practically tossed him onto the teal sheets. Scott closed the bedroom door behind him. “You’re not a stray fighting for scraps on the street anymore, sir. You’re my teammate, and no less.”

Scott tugged the blankets from under Etho and tossed them onto his frozen form. The warmth from when Scott was still under the sheets not too long ago seeped into Etho’s muscles. The older man had little time to react before Scott climbed in next to him, wrapping his arms around Etho’s neck and tucking Etho’s damp head under his chin. Etho didn’t know what to do with his cold hands. It seemed rude to press them against Scott’s warm shoulder blades. Scott’s neck felt scorching against Etho’s frozen nose. He doesn’t know when he had begun to let his body shiver.

“...If you insist,” Etho whispered. Scott’s hands ran through his damp hair. They felt like a mug of hot chocolate after a day in the snow. He felt like he was melting. “This is, like, the best decision I’ve ever made, I think.”

—————

Thanks for reading my little drabble!!🩵

[half-oz-eddie]

Sorry I missed you (on purpose)

Buck knew Tommy's schedules and habits, and he knew exactly when Tommy wasn't home.

Tommy's schedule fluctuated from week to week, so how did Buck know this? Well, Buck started anti-stalking Tommy, which is...still stalking, but he was only doing it to avoid running into Tommy. It doesn't make sense. To you, to anybody, but it makes sense to Buck, and Buck's gonna Buck, right?

Tommy liked to keep the porch light on because he fed a neighborhood cat whenever he was home, and he wanted the cat to know it was safe to come on his porch and have a bite to eat. Tommy was just good like this.

It's so hard not to love him.

Monday. Porch light on. Tuesday. Porch light off. Wednesday. Porch light on, and the curtain was open. Buck's heart raced when he saw Tommy walk past the window. What was he doing? Was he alone? Buck didn't intend to stick around too long and find out, so he drove off.

Thursday. Porch light off. Perfect. Buck left a post-it note on Tommy's front door.

"Wanted to drop some things of yours, but you weren't home and I didn't want to leave them on the porch. Feel free to call or drop by anytime! -Buck"

There. Simple enough. Now Buck just had to get the hell out of there before Tommy returned.

Two days passed and Tommy hadn't called, texted or stopped by. Why?

Did the post it note blow away? Did the cat eat it? Maybe he should've reinforced the post-it with some tape or something.

Or maybe...Tommy didn't want to talk to him at all. Maybe he just hated him.

Buck carried that thought to bed.

The next day after Buck's shift, he returned home to find a post-it on his door.

"Sorry I missed you. I have some of your things as well. You can drop mine off and pick up yours this week. Or I can stop by. Your choice. -Tommy"

Buck read the note over and over again. He could hear Tommy's voice in his head with every syllable his eyes scanned on the note. It even had the lingering smell of Tommy's cologne.

Buck stuck it to his fridge.

He missed talking to him.

The next day after his shift, Buck drove past Tommy's house. Porch light on.

Buck kept driving.

The day after, Buck returned to Tommy's again. Porch light off. This was his moment.

"Sorry I missed you again. I just can't seem to remember your schedule. Stop by whenever you can."

He stuck the post-it to the door, but he was unsatisfied, so he pulled out a second post-it.

PS: hope you're taking care of that knee that was bothering you a few weeks ago. You never took that compression sleeve. Should I bring it? -Buck"

It was a little ridiculous, sure, but Buck was talking to Tommy again. Sort of, and it was great.

Buck stopped baking as often, and everyone at the firehouse thought he was making some sort of progress. He told them he was. He just didn't explain the sort of progress he was making.

When he returned home from his shift 3 days later, there were 3 post-its on his door and his eyes lit up with excitement.

"We've gotta stop (not) meeting like this. I can't seem to remember your schedule either. I'm sure we'll sort this out soon." Buck smiled as he grabbed the first post it, before reading the second.

"My knee's better, but I'd still like that compression sleeve. Do you think you could drop it off with my stuff? Or I'll pick it up." Buck smiled wider. He was glad to know Tommy's knee wasn't bothering him as much anymore, but he was happy to know he still wanted his help.

"Let me know what works for you. PS: Is that wrist still bothering you? I hope it's all healed up now. -Tommy"

Buck stuck the post-its to his fridge and smiled to himself. He was almost convinced they'd talked via post-its enough to talk via text, but he didn't feel like it was the right time yet.

He continued anti-stalking Tommy for days, waiting for the day his porch light wasn't on. It had been 4 days since the porch light was off.

Finally. He hoped Tommy wasn't too worried. Then again, he probably wasn't worried at all, Buck assumed.

"Sorry again. I just have a lot of things keeping me busy so I stop by whenever I get the chance. I'm going to try again until we get this right." Buck stuck the first note to the door.

"PS: my wrist is fine now, thanks for asking. I've been putting it to use a lot lately because I'm baking so much."

Buck stuck the second note to the door, but wanted to leave three post-its like Tommy did, just to seem equally as invested in this post-it tag.

"PPS: I almost tripped over the bowl by your front door. Are you still feeding that cat? -Buck"

Buck stuck the final note to the door feeling satisfied. He even laughed to himself when he realized he stuck them to the door in the shape of a heart with the first two on top, and the third beneath.

Tommy probably wouldn't even notice.

When a week passed and Buck hadn't seen a single post-it on his door, he was beginning to worry that Tommy grew tired of their game of tag.

The next day, there was one, single post-it on his door.

"I think maybe I should text you."

Buck's heart was beating out of his chest. Was Tommy going to text him finally?

When? What time? What day? Today? Please be today, Buck hoped.

Buck was back to checking his phone for the next few hours. He started baking again to pass the time so he'd stop obsessing over his phone.

When he heard his phone ding, he nearly jumped across the counter for it.

Buck and Tommy continued to occasionally text for a week. Occasionally became frequently, and frequently became constantly, until they were talking again about any and everything that crossed their minds.

When Tommy addressed them finally meeting in person to exchange their belongings, Buck dreaded the thought. He was convinced that exchanging their belongings would end their text exchanges, so he blew Tommy off several times with various excuses about why he was too busy to meet.

Tommy was willing to wait and continue to text Buck, until one day, the texting turned into a phone call.

"Are you avoiding me on purpose?" Tommy asked.

"I-uh-no-I-I'm not. I'm not avoiding you. Not...intentionally." Buck stammered.

Tommy laughed on the other end of the phone. "Evan." There was that teasing voice Buck so dearly missed.

"Okay, okay. Maybe I am. I wasn't ready to do this face-to-face, in case this was going to be the last time we ever saw each other. So first, I dragged it out with the post-its..."

"I knew I saw your car that night! I thought maybe I was imagining it. Maybe...I dunno, wishful thinking."

Buck listened to the momentary silence and the soft sigh on the other end of the phone.

"The notes were cute, though. I...liked them. I suppose I was avoiding you too. Just to keep this going for a little bit longer."

"Really?" Buck smiled. "Y-you were? I didn't think you even wanted to talk to me anymore—"

"Are you kidding? Of course I do. I just...I know we broke up so suddenly. I...thought maybe we wouldn't work out. I guess it all felt too real and I...ran. I've done nothing but act cowardly since that night."

"I don't think you're a coward, Tommy. I didn't mean to scare you off. If you don't think I'm ready, I can promise you that you're wrong. Since the moment you left, I haven't stopped thinking about you. The baking was just to keep me from reaching out to you so I could give you space."

"I hate space. I hate avoiding you. I miss you, Evan. So much."

"I miss you too."

There was another silence while they each gathered their thoughts.

"Do you uh...do you still want your stuff back?" Buck worriedly asked.

"The only thing I left at your apartment that I want back is you."

Buck smiled so wide, his cheeks were aching. "You mean it?"

"Of course. When are you free?"

"For you? Whenever your porch light is on." Buck answered, getting a lighthearted laugh out of Tommy.

"Well...they're on right now."

"Yeah? I'll be right there."

Leave me kudos <3

[creatingblackcharacters]

What do you think makes y'all not say anything?

Often if I don't say something, it's because I'm not in that particular fandom and don't want to give any engagement to that person because I find it incredibly distasteful. Either that or it's not the original artist posting the image and I can't find them.

Why do you think your peers are comfortable with what they're doing?

I'm not sure, but usually if it's someone I know or is inside my space I point it out and give constructive feedback. I wonder if it's purposeful ignorance, sort of like how people pretend to be bad at chores to get away with it?

Why is it so safe to be antiblack in these fan spaces?

I think people feel comfortable being anti Black when creators and artists don't shut that shit down.

If it's just ignorance, why is educating oneself not a priority when it is offered?

Probably because people don't want to face the fact their behavior isn't okay. It reminds me of a toddler who doesn't want to admit they broke something so they blame it on the pets.

Does it not bother you?

It bothers me immensely! But I don't often see these things, usually only finding them when scrolling Google images or on Pinterest whenever I'm looking for references. In which case I don't know who the artist is and feel too disappointed in humanity to go searching for them.

What is the boundary to where you feel you would be bothered enough to speak up?

If it's someone within my space, someone I know through mutuals, common friends, or someone I have interacted with prior I would confront them. Based on that interaction I'll either help or give up on them.

I also feel like it depends on the severity, if it's something a little more subtle I'm more likely to privately DM and say "hey, you should probably fix [x]"

But if it's an egregious error such as skin lightening or white-washing features I'm more likely to comment publicly and encourage my friends to speak up as well.

Am I asking the wrong questions?

I think you're asking the right questions, but I think a lot of people also don't want to answer them truthfully. Or with their names attached (I can't help but feel uneasy about my name being attached but I know it's an opportunity for me to grow if my viewpoint is inappropriate or inaccurate)

What questions should I be asking, and what exactly do you think the answers would be to those questions?

I think the question that is missing is, "Why are creators allowing their fans and fan spaces to be anti-Black and not protecting their own fans?"

In my opinion, creators have to protect their minority groups in their fan spaces. If you let one nazi in a bar, it'll become a nazi bar, y'know?

I don't think creators are fully at fault for everything their fan spaces do, but I do think they have a responsibility to shut down shit and point out that they don't stand for that.

If people who have the power and strength speak up and make it cringey and shameful to be anti-Black, then people will follow suit. I think people who white wash are super cringe. Like what are you??? Afraid of melanin? Go get skin cancer, stinky. /Silly

Genuine question- why do you need to be in a fandom to call out racism if you see it there?

What happens when it's the creator who is also racist, especially when they are comfortable with the fan base that is on the same page? What will be the creator's motivation to change if their fan base is okay with their behavior in exchange for their content?

I agree about the creators, yes. More questions to consider: If the creator allows Nazis into their bar, yes it's a Nazi bar. But if the other patrons know Nazis attend this bar uncalled out, and still go to it knowing full well that they're not the ones in danger if they say nothing... What makes them not a participating Nazi? Because they have power too, more than they think, and aren't using it!

Also you shouldn't joke about cancer 😅

[730architect]

picture your face - L4B (1.1)

first real tumblr post um hi?? anyways i posted this fic on ao3 last month and it did pretty well so i decided to post it on here as well! so hi if you know me from there or from twt :)

── •✧• ──

wc: 2.4k

tags: liv4brutality, masturbation, hatred, conflicted feelings, liv lowkey hates dominik (yay), callbacks to l4b (2022), liv is still hopelessly in love with rhea but we knew this, light heterosexual couple jumpscares sorry....

── •✧• ──

I had to go into the other room, she sent me something and I can’t think about anything else…

Liv walked confidently to the back after successfully winning a dark match on tonight’s SmackDown, a match she had won with ease. Ease, which really meant continuous interference from her boyfriend, Dominik Mysterio. She cradled her precious championship in her arms as she pointed and laughed in the faces of the fans booing her on her way out. She was on top of the world and there was no woman on the entire roster, on the entire planet for that matter, who could knock her off of her pedestal.

Each victory was sweeter than the last, further cementing her as the greatest women’s world champion of all time, as she so eloquently called herself. She and Dominik were all smiles as they walked through the curtain arm in arm celebrating the champion’s win. However Liv’s smile faded quickly the second they made it back to gorilla, dropping her hand from his.

“You okay, mi güerita?” Dominik asks, immediately noticing her instant lack of affection which had caught him off guard.

“Fine, just a little tired.” Liv replies with a strained smile, attempting to save face. Dominik returned her smile with a bright one of his own, oblivious to her strange behavior.

The truth was, dating Dominik wasn’t all she had imagined it would be. Sure, in the beginning it was sort of fun. But that was due to the fact that Liv had finally gotten the ultimate revenge on the woman who had ruined her life while the whole world watched. She did exactly what she vowed she would do: take everything from Rhea Ripley until she was left with nothing but her shitty shoulder and her own misery.

Unfortunately for Liv, it was obvious that Dominik liked her far more than she liked him; which she took full responsibility for. Her conversations with Finn always seemed to be over the same matter: her true intentions with Dominik. She was not at all prepared for how needy and affectionate Dom would be, both in private and in public. He constantly needed her attention for even the littlest things.

“Hey Liv, should I wear my white or purple boots for my match later?”

“Liv, do you think I look jacked in this picture?”

His constant neediness was enough to drive any woman insane, Liv was amazed that Rhea was able to stay with him for so long. She couldn’t help but discreetly roll her eyes whenever he called her name before putting on a sickeningly sweet smile paired with a skip in her step as she made her way to him. Why did she feel this way?

She and Dominik are back in their shared hotel room after the show. She finds herself trapped in his arms yet again in bed as he mindlessly scrolls through the TV channels. Liv gets up from the bed, tossing Dominik’s tattooed arm off of her and ignoring his audible confusion, mumbling something along the lines of, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Picture your face, I wanna touch you but you’re too far away…

Liv locks herself in the bathroom and surveys her surroundings, mind still racing. Her eyes land on the large bathtub and decides a bath would help clear her head. She empties the pockets of her shorts and runs the bath water to her desired temperature while she pours soap into the tub, allowing it to form bubbles as she undresses. She tosses her clothes into a pile in the corner of the bathroom and ties her blonde hair up into a lazy bun at the top of her head, then climbing into the warm and welcoming water as bubbles swirled around her. Liv allows herself to sink down, down, down into the tub until only her head breaks the surface of the foamy water.

She tries to dilute her stress but Rhea continues to ravage her thoughts relentlessly, refusing to provide her with even a second of relief. Liv finds her mind drifting back to 2022, when she and Rhea were tag team partners and the best of friends. How Rhea treated her like the only girl in the world, how she picked her up with ease in ways that Dominik could only dream of. Liv feels a pang in her heart as she relives each sweet memory she and Rhea shared together on their quest for tag team gold. Her wet fingers rise and ghost over her lips where she swears she can still taste the sweetness of Rhea’s cheek that she would kiss after every win or loss. No matter what, they had each other. Until they didn’t.

And maybe Liv was naive for thinking that they would last forever, but how could she not when Rhea treated her like the only girl she would ever have eyes for for as long as she lived? Sometimes she thinks about what their lives would be like if Rhea had never turned her back on her. Would they still be tag team partners or would they have split on good terms? Would they be champions together like they once dreamed? The constant state of wonder she repeatedly finds herself in leaves her head pounding. They once looked at each other with such tenderness but now every glance is filled with pure malice.

Know I shouldn't need it but I want affection, know I shouldn't want it but I need attention

She hears a familiar snore come from the other room and immediately recognizes it as Dominik, which only seems to piss her off even more. Liv’s mind shifts once again, thinking about how her stomach would jolt whenever her eyes met Rhea’s as she stared her down, blue eyes morphing into angry slits every time Rhea saw her. Liv would try and put on a hardened expression of her own but to no avail. She just couldn’t ignore the heat that pooled in the pit of her stomach every time Rhea was near. Her breath on the back of Liv’s neck every time she pinned her down to the mat, seething over how much she fucking hated her. And by god did it turn her on.

Her nimble fingers begin to trail down her still-immersed body, fantasizing about how roughly Rhea would grab her, practically throwing her around like a rag doll if she really wanted to. How her sharp canines would flash through her snarl every time she had Liv backed into a corner. She found herself dismissing the wet spots in her underwear after every interaction with her or even after just stumbling across a post of hers on social media.

Liv grabs her phone from the side of the tub and opens Instagram, switching between accounts. Her wet fingers slowly find the search bar and tap on the last and only searched profile: Rhea’s. Liv couldn’t risk making a wrong move and tapping something she wasn’t meant to on accident, which would end up being the most embarrassing thing that could ever happen to her. She looks through Rhea’s profile for a couple seconds, nearly missing her latest post.

It was a mirror picture taken at the gym, nothing Rhea hasn’t posted about a million times before. But this one nearly had Liv’s world crumbling around her. It wasn’t the photo that mattered, despite how good she looked in it. Muscles bulging and glistening with a light sheen of sweat after what Liv assumed to be an intense arm-day workout. Black tattoo ink decorated her skin, wrapping themselves around her arms and fingers as she held her phone in one hand and flexed the other. But it was the caption that truly caught Liv’s attention.

“rhearipley_wwe watch me 👁️‍🗨️”

Liv sat up straight in the bathtub, nearly spilling water onto the bathroom floor with the speed she moved at. She waits for the anger to hit her but it never does. Instead it’s that same familiar throb in her core which she’s sure is coated in slick and not because of the water she’s sitting in. She stops for a moment to listen to her surroundings, relieved when she still hears Dom’s obnoxious snores through the locked door. She sinks back down into the tub, still staring at the photo, eyes drooping slightly with lust. Her fingers trace incoherent shapes onto the soft skin of her thighs as she separates them, exposing her cunt to her digits. She glides her index finger over her opening, almost slipping it inside due to how wet she is. Rhea may be obsessed but Liv was nothing short of infatuated by her.

Now I'm picturing you and you're touching yourself…

Her fingers slowly begin to circle her clit, spreading her slick over the puffy pearl. Liv sighs softly to herself, eyes fluttering shut for a split second before opening again to marvel at the photo. The caption itself almost seems like a teasing invitation in its own right, enticing Liv to slip a finger inside of herself, quickly replacing one with two and imagining it was Rhea’s inked ones instead. Water sloshed around due to her movements as her back arched slightly off the back of the tub she leaned on. “Shit… Rhea…” she whispers to herself through parted lips, Rhea’s name slipping past them like a prayer. Like she’s repenting, begging some sort of divine power for forgiveness for what she’s done as she does it.

Liv never slows the relentless piston of her fingers, going in and out of her weeping hole. The heel of her palm hits her clit with every thrust at the perfect angle, making her brain short circuit with every motion.

A memory from years ago plays in her mind like a technicolor movie. Liv had made her way to the locker room, calling out Rhea’s name as she glanced left and right for her then partner until she saw her standing at the end of the locker room, back facing her.

“Hey Rhea, I was wondering if you wanted to grab some food before we head back to the hotel or something.” Liv chirped as she walked up to her partner, blissfully unaware that she was stripping herself of her ring gear. Rhea turns around to face Liv, her hands reaching behind her back to unclasp her bralette that made up the top half of her gear.

“Sounds good to me, love. What are you in the mood for?” Rhea asks with a toothy smile, thick accent slicing through the air.

She turns around once again and lets out a relieved sigh when she finally unfastens her top, allowing it to fall off of her and completely expose the top half of her body. Liv’s mouth drops open before she quickly regains her composure, trying her hardest not to gawk at her tag partner’s physique, now having half of it fully exposed to her.

Rhea had less tattoos back then, her body a little leaner as she's put on more muscle since. But regardless of how she looked, Liv always found herself pressing her thighs together whenever she saw her, searching desperately for even the smallest bit of friction to provide herself with some semblance of relief before she could tend to it herself. Rhea turns to the side as she throws on a t-shirt, allowing Liv to catch a glimpse of her plush tits and the piercings that adorned them; along with the massive gargoyle tattoo that sat right underneath. She didn’t feel worthy of seeing her like this, all exposed and vulnerable. She didn’t feel worthy of seeing her at all.

The fingers wrapped around her phone still displaying Rhea’s photo had begun to tremble due to the sensation, liking the photo accidentally in the process. Liv however paid no mind, how could she with how her heart hammered in her chest, blood pounding in her ears, drowning out the sounds of her breathy moans and pathetic whimpers as she imagined Rhea’s expression seeing her like this behind her rolled back eyes. Liv eventually drops her phone back down and paws at her breasts, rolling her nipples between her index finger and thumb as she continues the assault on her pussy with her other hand.

She feels pressure increase just below her pelvis, making the entire lower half of her body feel like it’s about to implode. She slows the speed of her fingers ever so slightly to be able to grind her hips down onto them, allowing them to hit even deeper inside of her which makes her head spin. She feels the pressure increase more and more until she pinches at her nipple right as her fingers curl up slightly inside her, hitting that spot that makes her see stars every time. Liv throws her head back and detonates like a bomb around her digits, Rhea’s face the only thing she could see behind her tightly closed eyelids.

“Rhea… oh my sweet girl, oh my god…” she wept to herself, only then realizing that a few tears had rolled down her face. She slowly pulls her fingers out of her cunt, whining at the sensitivity and emptiness she felt. Liv laps her fingers clean, moaning around them as she envisions they’re Rhea’s she’s sucking off rather than her own.

She lays back and takes some much needed deep breaths with her eyes closed, feeling her heart rate return to a normal speed. She opens her eyes to the sound of her phone going off, notifying her that she’s received a text message. Liv picks her phone up to check who it is only to almost drop it into the water when she does.

It’s an unsaved number she hasn’t texted in years, but the lack of caller ID doesn’t serve any purpose considering it’s the only phone number besides hers that she knows by heart. With shaking fingers, she taps on the notification, opening the messages app. The text contains a single screenshot of someone’s instagram notifications. She taps on it and reads “yaonlylivvonce and 82,385 others liked your photo”.

You’re fucking kidding.

The photo in question is the post of Rhea that Liv had just spent the last half hour jerking it to. She’s stuck, frozen in shock as the now lukewarm water stills around her. She’s snapped out of her trance with another text notification, this time it’s a short sentence.

“I guess you really were watching me”

Shit.

[lawofangie]

hello! I need some advice. I've seen numerous success stories and many blogs claiming that you can manifest seemingly illogical and unrealistic things. I want to manifest a completely different desired face, probably similar to looking like a celebrity. Although many people say it's possible and some even claim to have achieved it, I still have doubts that it's true and worry that I just might be wasting my time. I think part of this is from the lack of success stories with photos that show they changed there appearance and look like a whole different person. I really don’t want to have these doubts because they stop me from trying my hardest, but I can't help feeling this way. I’m really scared i’m just wasting my time and even if I continue to assume that i have my df in imagination nothing will change or i’ll just get very tiny differences but end up not looking exactly like my df or that it could just be a placebo and i’m just completely wasting my time. I hope i’m not bothering but thank you for taking the time to read this! ❤️

there's definitely a lot to unpack here. first off, i have seen many success stories on this app and twitter of people manifesting various things, including appearance changes (with and without photo evidence). i've done this myself with various things (i mention them in another post. i haven't touched my face though). the law works, appearance changes are real. if they weren't, nobody would have any reason to say they were. i think it is very obvious when people collectively disagree on something.

second, i think this doubt and lack of faith in the law is due to the fact that so many people are misinformed and misinform other people. the point of the law of assumption is to make assumptions. an assumption is believing something without proof. there is a quote that says "an assumption, though false, if persisted in, will harden into fact." manifesting is just assuming, people literally just have a way of rewording and misconstruing things like usual.

but anyways, you make assumptions on a daily basis, you believe things without proof on a daily basis. it's nothing new. you're just being informed that your assumptions affect your reality, and since they do, and you have the ability to assume absolutely whatever you want, you should just do so in your favor. not because you need to, or anyone's forcing you to, but simply because it's in your best interest to do so.

this is why you affirm "i have ___" or you visualize yourself having ___ or you script about having ___, because assuming you have it now is how you get it. you're literally just being told that you can use this ability to assume to obtain whatever you want, that's all.

third, there is no "trying". you either have your manifestation or you don't. i'm not sure exactly what you're doing, but if the point of the law is to assume, what do you think "trying" implies? obviously, it means you're working to get something, which means you don't have it yet. the point of making an assumption is to believe something without proof. in this context, you're being told to accept you have it now without waiting for proof. you're being told "if you accept this as true without proof, it will materialize in your reality."

i personally don't really care for the "imagination" stuff anymore, i understand what the concept means, but honestly all these concepts get unnecessary at some point. i feel like if you take it the wrong way, it implies some kind of separation between the 3d and 4d (your imagination), when there really isn't any. believing you have it "in imagination" just doesn't sound right to me. i would rather just accept my assumption as the reality and take whatever the 3d is showing me as false.. which is again, literally what assuming is.

like, i have it, no matter what i see, it's still there. i think about my desires the same way i remember i have a bed when i'm not home. you know it's there at home, even if you can't see it, even if you can't feel it. you know it's yours. you may even imagine yourself laying in it sometimes, tired from a long day and being excited to finally go home and sleep.

this is all that's required of you, believe you have it. you don't need to make something appear, you don't need to try and force something to happen. just decide it's yours, like you're being told to.

you have to literally treat your assumption as the proof, like how you would do with the 3d. you have to genuinely believe your assumption, then the 3d will follow. waiting to be validated by the 3d will never work. you will always fail.

also, i think your ability to stay true to your own beliefs about wasting your time and none of it being real perfectly shows how easy it is to accept something as true despite what you're being shown, how able you are to make an assumption. because honestly, why would anyone be preaching the law if it didn't work? there's no logical reason to not practice something you preach or just admit that the law of assumption is not real.

if the law happened to be some sort of scam, it would be obvious. people would clearly be asking you for money, leading you on with all sorts of rules and twists and turns, they would overprice the hell out of their services, etc. but people like me are literally running blogs to help people for free. (most) people literally run these blogs for fun, nothing more. the motivation behind my account at least, is entertainment. talking to and helping people is entertaining. i have no ulterior motive, hardly anyone does.

people have lives, they don't have time to waste hoping something happens. if the law didn't work, so many people wouldn't be telling you it did. it's irrational to think every single person in the community is simply making claims that may be true or false, someone's had to have done it before.

also, you shouldn't need your manifestation validated by the internet. i can understand maybe seeing if someone's manifested one or two more "challenging" things (things being difficult or easy to manifest is completely up to you. no manifestation is different from the others unless you decide it is or attach some meaning to it.) like, to me that would be some like grades or hair texture. but to you, that's an appearance change.

the point i'm making here is that your opinion is different than mine, we find different things difficult. if everybody can have differing opinions and find different things more challenging than others, then it is not up to the object or specific person, but ourselves. if everything can have different levels of difficulty to different people, then these objects and people are inherently neutral, until you add your own assumptions or meanings to them and the way they operate for you.

so, proof, while i understand you want to be validated, is useless. there is tons of it out there, if not on tumblr then on twitter, but i think having photo proof of something not specific works just fine as proof too. you're already told that you can manifest anything, that no manifestation is too big or small, everything is neutral, you are limitless.. so what's the point? everything inherently has an equal value until we as people decide to change that with our assumptions. if you truly need to believe, then prove it to yourself. obviously no amount of internet success stories will help you, they just make you anxious and paranoid.

often times, we think external things are the cause of our problems, so we try to achieve a goal or make a change without changing ourselves first. for instance, i used to think that certain things would make me happy. like finally getting good grades, having my desired body, my desired weight, my desired friends and whatnot. while all of that was nice, i still felt depressed, obviously my life quality changed, so it wasn't exactly as bad as it used to be, but i still felt the way i did because i still needed to do the internal work.

its your perception of things, the way you choose to react, your decisions, etc. that shape your reality. its all you. it will always be all you, because this is YOUR life. the cause of your doubts and worries is you.

getting partial results can't be a thing when manifesting if manifesting is literally just about making assumptions. if you're assuming something to be true, then it's going to be true.. if you think the law magically won't work for you, that's your belief. if you believe that to be true (also without proof because this is purely paranoia), you cannot be surprised that it happened. that's literally the singular rule of the law of assumption, make an assumption, no matter what you decide to assume, it will be true. WE are the ones suggesting you assume in your favor.

and honestly the more i read these asks (no offense to you), the more i wonder what you guys think manifestation is. do you just say a bunch of words, create a bunch of images in your head, etc, and wait for something to happen? i mean, who or what exactly do you think is "giving you" your manifestation in the first place? why are you receiving anything? is it a reward for affirming enough? for visualizing enough? for scripting enough?

your inability to answer this question correctly is most likely the reason why you have so many doubts. you clearly think someone or something outside of you dictates what you do or don't get.. which doesn't make any sense, neither do the questions i asked. the law of assumption does not work that way.

you aren't receiving anything for doing a good job. there isn't some god or higher being giving you anything or dictating anything regarding your manifestations. it's you. the point of making the assumption is that your assumptions create your reality. whatever you believe to be true materializes. you're just being shown a way to use your ability to assume to your advantage.

i would suggest you build faith, maybe put that manifestation aside for now and at least manifest something with less significance to you, but still specific. something that you can use to help prove manifestation to yourself. then maybe come back to this desire when you feel more confident in your manifestation abilities.

this is really all i can say because there is no way of getting around the way the law works. in order to have favorable things happen to you, you have to assume in your favor. that's really it. however you practice and get the hang of manifesting is up to you. still, this is the only rule and you have to use it to your advantage if you want manifesting to work for you.

[all-thestories-aretrue]

There are many jokes floating around the shadowgast nation about the nature of Caleb and Essek's relationship (eggplants and winky faces abound), and most of them are good natured and perhaps true (eventually or at some point). I find most of them entertaining and sweet, but some of what I have stumbled across post-reunion have highlighted that it's only a joke up to a certain point to me.

Please keep in mind that everything in this post is my opinion and my opinion only. I'm not asking that anyone agree with me. This post is mainly for me because I felt like I needed to make it.

I have seen several comments/posts/tags in many different places talking about Essek and Caleb and that scene in the reunion, and describing it as horny or saying they can't keep their hands off each other or following up that conversation with sexual intimacy. I know a lot of these comments or conversations are not malicious or ill-intentioned, and I understand that people are excited for the first new content in nearly 2 years.

But, one thing I have appreciated about Critical Role is the variety of sexuality and genders represented, including various asexual and aromantic identities. Essek is confirmed by Matt on Twitter to be demi (romantic or sexual is unclear to me so it could be taken as either. If anyone has any other sources I would greatly appreciate them). As someone who identifies as aspec, I deeply appreciate the representation that Critical Role has given me.

The shadowgast scene in the reunion was not sexual to me. It's only been six months since the end of c2, which granted, I have not completed yet. As of this writing, I am in the middle of episode 133. Whatever is going on between Caleb and Essek is still very new, especially for two people who thought they would never have love. An aspect of being demi is that it takes time and closenes and a strong emotional bond for romantic and/or sexual feelings to develop. Six months, to me, feels like an incredibly short time for those feelings to take root for Essek even if he is on the path of developing them.

Seeing people make light of Essek's sexual attraction or feelings for Caleb or treat them as common place or casual, even innocuously, has made me feel as though this aspect of Essek really is ignored or forgotten about sometimes. Not by everyone nor, I would even doubt, the majority. Maybe not intentionally or maliciously or maybe it's a lack of understanding about demisexuality or aspec identities.

This is a feeling I have had for a while, and I mean this about nothing in particular but rather a sum of the parts I have encountered over the months.

In addition, I think Essek's sexuality can be overshadowed by how sexual Caleb can be/is. He makes comments throughout the entirety of the campaign that directly or indirectly reveal his sexuality, and that part is clearly important to him, even if he has not acted on it in a very long time.

I am not saying that Essek is NOT sexually attracted to Caleb or that their relationship does not involve sex at some point or at the time of that scene. I do think, at the very least, that Caleb and Essek would have a conversation about it as some point, and I find it likely it would turn sexual. At the very least, Caleb is attracted to Essek. Liam has confirmed that. I would guess those feelings are a combination of romantic, sexual, platonic, etc.

But I cannot imagine, and again this is my opinion, that feeling sexual attraction or acting on it for the perhaps first or second, maybe third time, is not a life-altering moment for him, let alone acting on it. From what see of his character, he's extrmely gaurded, extremely lonely, extremely shameful. Showing his emotions and attraction to Caleb, or to anyone really, is an extreme show of trust and vulnerability, and I don't think it should be taken lightly.

Treating it, at least in those early months, as though it is common or casual, something taken for granted, feels, to me, as though it undermines the importance and gravity of Essek's feelings, whatever they may be. Further, it undermines aspec identities, relegating them to sidelines if it is even acknowledged at all. I feel as though a lot of the jokes ignore Essek's demisexuality and how integral it is to how he builds relationships and interacts with people.

As someone who is aspec, I find it disheartening to see these sort of jokes and offhand comments being circulated about a character who is confirmed, canon aspec whose identity centers on deep bonds that take time to develop. Applying sexual under/overtones to scene where a small chaste kiss and an innocent pet name are shared feels like, in a way, a forced sexualization of a new, developing relationship that may never turn sexual.

There is such little aspec representation in media, and Critical Role does a fantastic job of showcasing a variety of aspec identities which is so, so rare. To turn around and have the fandom ignore or disregard these identities (intentional or not) that the cast and crew work hard to incorporate feels bad. It makes me feel as though I still have to fight for my identity to be seen and understood by people who, theoretically, support and want to understand and respect various identities, who claim to love Essek and Caleb and their relationship. It hurts.

I have spent a lot of time convincing myself that I and my sexuality belong in the queer community, that I deserve to have a voice, that I deserve to be respected and heard. With my feelings about Essek and his demisexuality, I didn't feel right standing by any longer and remaining silent when these portrayals were bothering me.

I am not asking anyone to change their opinions, to agree with me, to change the fic they write, the art they draw. The Critical Role fandom is beautiful and amazing and absolutely incredible. I have met so many kind, caring, wonderful people since joining. It's an experience unlike any other. But, I needed to make this post for me and anyone else who was feeling like me.

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[haljordns]

You don’t actually have to share the ‘bad’ parts of your regression btw. It’s okay to create a space to appreciate the good parts of your regression without dishing out your trauma to strangers on the internet.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

people who dislike saiki kusuo i need to pick and prod at ur brain. whats going on in there?

[flowerakatsuka]

i can't believe that a show who's main bread & butter is masturbation jokes really has me like

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[thedrotter]

as a little treat i am sharing with you little Aya doodles I've done over the last few days to unwind ww just little expressions based on lines in-game because those are always fun to draw. nothing too special just biscuit

it's Aya because upon doing bizarrely throughout playthroughs of the game for still unspecified project purposes I've gained a soft spot for her she's my daughter now my mental tier list on my favorite characters is so confusing right now

[solradguy]

Whenever I see someone being transphobic on twt in a bridget thread i reply with three pictures of my mains: ky kiske from ac+r, ky kiske from rev 2, and ky kiske from strive.

it self selects for people who actually play the game. it’s canon that he’ll fight off transphobes with the blade. and if they actually played guilty gear they’d get the underlining messages

While it can be really funny to bully these guys back, please keep in mind that nothing you can say or do to these people will hurt them or waste as much of their time as what they say will stick with you or waste your time. It might be funny to send them a bunch of Ky pictures, but what they're doing is laughing that the only response the people they hate can give them is sending a bunch of pictures of anime boys.

The only thing that works is blocking them. They've turned being an asshole into a recreational sport and getting any sort of response in return is a victory for them.

[phagodyke]

kind of annoys me sometimes how I can happily listen to my roommate explain the entire plot of whatever she's currently into but when it comes to my interests she can only listen for a few mins before wordlessly walking out of the room

[radish-club]

From what I understand people were initially dismissive of Pact saying it was bad (WRONG) but later gave it a reassement saying it was good (CORRECT).

Similarly, I saw folks being dismissive of Pale saying it was bad (WRONG) but one day it may also get a reassessment with people saying it was good actually (WRONG).

[lususnatura]

🎤 🎤 🎤

a song that i associate with my muse meme!

AHH, hey, ramone!! thank you for sending in this prompt :D since you sent in three of the mic's, i shall now be treating you to three songs that make me think of blamore when i hear them / that i associate with it. an explanation of why i chose them will be in the tags <3

hozier - who we are.

icehouse - crazy.

depeche mode - personal jesus.