#why did they write that why that hurt me so bad

[gatorbites-imagines]

Do you write for Scott Summers/Cyclops??! Specifically James Marsden version/X-men movies?? (I am so normal about him I promise)

If so, fucking Scott against/bent over his motorcycle and he's a whimpering mess 😍 just something about him loving his bike so much makes me wanna breed him on/against it😋

If you don't do X-men you could replace Scott with Nightwing :3

Kurt Wagner x male reader

Ficlet

I swear to god I misread Nightwing as Nightcrawler and it was first when I was about to post this that I realized the mistake, and there is too much about Kurt, his powers and appearance to rewrite it as anyone else… so… Kurt it is. If you want it with Scott, send the request again, my bad bro.

Don’t ask me why Kurt is hitchhiking and doesn’t just BAMF away, it’s for plot…

Kurt was well and truly lost when you picked him up. Thankfully hed still had his watch, the one that altered his physical appearance, so he wasn’t so visibly a mutant. It was out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere Kurt had stumbled after BAMFing out of one situation or another. And yeah, he could have just teleported back again, but his head was hurting really badly, so he didn’t.

In the end he pulled the good old tradition of hitchhiking, of standing by the side of the road with his thumb out and hoping some soul would drive down these baren roads. And luckily, you did, in a mud-covered, beaten truck that looked like your stereotypical country car.

The conversation flowed between the two of you, with you being fascinated by how far away he was from Germany, because Kurt made up some story about being a German hitchhiker seeing the world. Kurt could feel his tail twitching even as it was hidden, and the dirty tanktop, messy beard and old trucker cap you wore wasn’t helping.

There was a reason the one rule of his religion that Kurt couldn’t follow was celibacy, and you made his blood rush. Kurt knew he should be careful, he knew all the stereotypes about men like you, and he knew that later on some of the others would scold him for getting into a stranger’s car. What if you were a serial killer?

But Kurt was a weak man, something he prayed about on the regular, so when you offered to let him spend the night at your place, he jumped on it. even if it didn’t lead to anything, staying the night would be better than trying to get back to the X-men in the dark. That was an excuse, and he knew it, but who could blame him.

It was a nice place you had, large and cared for, even if it was only you. There were two more cars in your massive garage, and a beautiful motorcycle, which Kurt was quick to climb on top of and started turning the handles as he cooed in interest.

There were multiple reasons Kurt was called an imp and elf, and his curled flirty smile was one of them. That very smile as thrown your way, Kurt crossing his fingers in hopes that he had read you right. Seeing you huff but suppressing a smirk of your own had blood rushing downwards, his tail flicking and knocking something over, even in its invisible state.

One thing led to another, and the two of you ended up making out against your bike. It wasn’t actually in a drivable state, it didn’t have any wheels and was just a passion project of yours, but making out with a cute guy against it was really good.

It was a lucky coincidence that you liked jerking off in your garage, meaning you had lube laying around in one of your multiple toolboxes. Kurt was gonna make a flirty joke about it, but your mouth was on his before he could, your teeth clacking and tongues intertwining wetly.

All your jostling and rutting must have smacked Kurts wrist against your bike, as a familiar beep met his ears, and suddenly the illusion flickered and there was blue. The kiss was disconnected as you pulled back, eyes widening at the suddenly fuzzy and very blue man against your bike.

Kurts eyes had widened too, they were completely yellow you noticed. For him it wasn’t shock as much as it was fear, as any mutant knew how some people reacted to their kind, especially the ones that didn’t look like the norm.

There was a flicking motion in your peripheral, your eyes turning to it only to see a tail of all things flicking side to side. It even had a triangle shaped tip like a cartoon devil. It wasn’t that you hated mutants, you hadn’t ever met one that you knew of, and you liked to mind your own lane.

“Well… this is awkward, hehe” Kurt chuckled out, voice a little dry and tense as his shoulders rose, eyes flicking towards the well. “Only if you make it one” you reply after taking him in, sliding your hands up his sides and feeling his velvet fuzzy fur. You could work with this.

Kurt could only widen his eyes as you kissed him again, just as hungry as before and hands exploring across his torso. The X-man could only be pleasantly surprised, winding his arms around you and pulling you close once more as you started rutting against each other again, but this time Kurts tail could join, wrapping around your thigh like a leash.

“Flip over” you pant into his mouth, making Kurt snicker but do as you tell him. His tail wags and coils like a pleased cat as you pull the last of his clothes off, the blue mutant seeming almost smug or cocky in his own way, even if it was obvious, it was just him playing.

A shaky gasp punched its way out Kurts chest as you spread him open, the X-man looking back over his shoulder just to catch you dropping to your knees and burying your face between his spread cheeks. A puff of warm air brushed against his hole, making Kurts toes curl as his tail tapped against your back. “Guess one place doesn’t have any fur” you mumble, more to yourself than anything as you kissed against his tight pucker.

Kurt struggled not to let his tail curl around your head, or worse, your neck as you ate him out, the cap of the lube bottle being heard before your fingers joined in on the mess. The X-man tried to bite down his noises for a moment, until you groped at him encouragingly and he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

The prep was maybe a tad too rushed as you opened him up with a couple of fingers and your tongue, but Kurt was as needy as you were, so he didn’t care about the burn as you pushed inside, with a condom, of course. Instead, he wound his tail around your thigh again and pulled you close.

Your strong hands on his hips and your groans in his sharp ears, as well as the feeling of you stretching and filling him had Kurt feeling like he was in heaven. The blue fuzz coating his body made it nearly impossible to leave hickeys, at least visible ones, but that didn’t stop you from trying, and your enthusiasm to mark him up made Kurt dizzy in the best way possible.

Kurt hadn’t even noticed he had stumbled over the edge as you ground into him, Kurts body aflame with want and pleasure as he rocked back against you like a needy cat in heat. It was only when you bottomed out inside him and tumbled over it yourself, that Kurt noticed how he had painted the leather seat of your bike in his spend.

Maybe hitchhiking wasn’t so bad, Kurt thought, as you pulled out and flipped him over, replacing the used rubber with a new one, giving his tail a slight yank only to make him yelp and spread his legs enough to give you room. Definelty, not bad at all.

[euphoria-looney]

Credits to the idea:

Batfam X Neglected Reader ( Squid Games)

The Winner Takes It All by ABBA

When do humans get so desperate they give up their own lives for that small chance of money?

Money is a category in your history class dedicated to why money is the basis of your life. Economy.

I first witnessed someone leave everything had for money, my mother. When I was 5, I didn't know why my mother was leaving the manor with a huge suitcase, filled with cash.

My mother engaged to Bruce Wayne who only allowed her in as they procreated me. In her words, both sides should take responsibility, it takes two to tango, and why should she be the only one to deal with the consequences.

Which now is very hypocritical as she ran away taking everything but me.

I didn't want sympathy, but I didn't want to be treated like dirt for a mistake I didn't make.

For the next 13 years of my life, I tried to stay on the down low, no matter how many dirty looks, and the insults, not even when Damian would hurt me.

I just hoped they wouldn't mind if I stayed with them a little longer until I could find a stable way to leave.

That hope burst when Alfred came to my room and told me “Master Bruce has decided to kick you out and disown you, I'm so sorry, [name].”

I tried to somehow make it, promising myself, it was going to be okay.

I got into college, and the debt collected from that was massive, so I had to go get loans at the bank, and then get into a part-time job, but every day seemed like we were always getting robbed. My manager had no choice but to let me go.

“I'm sorry, sugar, but we aren't pulling in enough customers and I can't afford to keep too many employees, there's no easy way to say this but, you have to quit. I don't want to fire you, it'd look bad for any job you'd apply for next.”

I held onto her hand like a lifeline I begged and pleaded with no avail.

I tucked my tail in and went to the Wayne manor.

"Um, It's [name], could I... um..." I swallowed my words, afraid to say them, I mean, this was humiliating, 13 years since I'd seen them and the first thing I asked for was cash? "... borrow some money."

No surprise I was rejected, but that didn't hurt me it was the comments, how I was so much like my mother.

I waddled to the train station, if I was lucky, the train wouldn't be hijack or filled with gas tonight.

"Hey, you want to earn some money?" A guy next to me.

"No, thank you."

"10,000 dollars. Just a child's game"

I lifted my head to stare at him. I couldn't see his face, hidden behind a mask.

"It's a Korean game, visited it a few days ago, so would you mind playing it with me?" He gave an authoritative vibe, it made me want to back away, his aura was sinister.

I had already hit rock bottom, what could be lower? I hesitantly nodded my head.

I don't know how many times I lost, but I finally did it!

Handing me the cash and then handing me this weird card.

"If you ever need more, contact us." with that he walked away.

Third POV

“B, are you sure this is the right spot?”

‘Positive. Are you sure you want to join on this mission, Dick.”

Despite what anyone might think Batman, otherwise known as Bruce Wayne cares and loves his kids.

Changing into suits and golden animal masks, they went to the VIP room, make some bets on random numbers.

Oracle was doing the background work, hacking into everything, it wasn't like the movies and the stress was on.

The court of Owls was not just one villain working but a cult that was not only wealthy but influential, with their own members, called Talons who were armed and ready.

On the screen 456 players appeared.

“Today, we have prepared the game red light, green light. A child game.” The frontman introduced the V.I.P’s at the start of the first round.

[name]’s POV:

Waking up, the clothes I was originally wearing changed into the tracksuit outfit with a number on it.

A person caught my eye, it’s Astro! From the law department, I couldn’t help but approach him.

“What are you doing here?” Word got around that he was an academic genius, and many had hope for his bright future.

I could only remember how fond his mother was when talking about him, I thought I saw her the other day working.

“Oh, [name]. It’s been a while hasn’t it? What are you doing here?” He dodged the question.

“I… couldn’t afford college and took out a loan, eventually I got a lot of debt.” Our conversation got cut short as we headed to this random room.

Going to this machine it said ‘smile’

I gave a gummy like smile before making my way to the field

Playing red light, green light.

After explaining the rules everyone started running, nothing was wrong until a person got spotted moving during the red light, poor guy, going home penniless after making it here-

Spat

Oh.

There’s blood on my shoes.

It was like a stampede of people running to the door, stacking on top of each other. I was frozen out of fear.

Wha-

What do I do?

I’m afraid.

Someone tell me, what do I do?!

Before I knew it, I made it to the end.

Third POV:

Thankfully no one found the bat family suspicious or they would’ve noticed how they tensed up seeing as their daughter/sibling had the first contestant’s blood splattered not only on her shoes but also on her clothes.

A break had ensued as the game was over and everyone made their way to their individual rooms.

“What are they doing there?!”

“Should we stop it now?!”

“How?!”

“Quiet down!” Bruce had stopped the panic, but in reality he, himself didn’t know what to do either.

[name]’s POV:

Going back to the room, I felt like a doll and everyone sat on the floor.

The sickening feeling of seeing the gold lighting illuminating the clear pig, with money dropping down into it.

I could feel my stomach drop just thinking about it.

I didn't know what was happening until Astro got up and rebutted the guards.

“Clause three, The games may be terminated upon a majority vote, right?”

Thankfully, ending this sick and twisted game.

That didn’t last long though as a day had passed and I was back in this building. I think everyone who left was.

I talked to new people, especially this one old man who reminded me of Alfred.

“I could say the same to you. You’re young, and your debt is lower than most people here, so why continue risking your life for this money?” I shook my head, my face holding a sad smile.

“No matter how hard I try I just keep gaining then losing debt. But it’s different for you sir. Doesn’t the government give insurance and medicare for the elderly?” I held his hands in mine.

“The government isn’t as nice as you think, corrupt up in their high-paying jobs, but still greedy for more.”

As the games ensued I could feel myself deteriorate.

Third POV

Gripping onto the couch arms, and bouncing off one's feet could symbolize when someone is... anxious.

Or it could be showing anticipation.

So let's pretend that's what Bruce Wayne is feeling right now.

And if we asked his opinion on number ###, [name] [lastname]...

Most people would think, "Yes, he must be anticipating her death, how the blood would splatter, whether it be from losing a game or betrayal from another contestant." That's what most people would think of that entire family.

How could you not?

They shamed her, bullied her, and scorned her away from their home.

Wouldn't even provide financial aid much less.

Isn't that why she's here in the first place?

It was like they wanted her to grovel and die, die a death that would have no meaning, not even to this unforgiving world.

However, you'd be shocked that's not correct.

Anxiety is a scary thing it makes you make rash decisions. Good or bad.

It was nothing new to these vigilantes.

But oh. seeing her tired eyes, sweat dripping down everywhere, from her head to her legs. Her trembling form.

If you didn't know the context you'd already think she was a corpse.

No! That's wouldn't couldn't be true.

They couldn't allow it to be, she was going to be safe.

She had to be.

She was forgotten, but now, everyone's eyes were on her.

Anxiety is a scary thing, and with the current event, situation, there was nothing they could do but hope for the best, bounce their legs, and grip the couch.

-

It’s time for the next game.

“For this game we’ll be playing the marble game.”

—

There will be 2 endings choose which one. (I'll be making both.)

-> Thank you… for playing with me.

-> Astro!

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento (I think these are all the ones that wanted to get tagged idk though 😍)

[daiourage]

TFO Dual Rulers (?) AU

I've been seeing people do like a "what if D didn't go fuckin' coconuts" AU, and it kinda inspired me to start thinking of what other events would be changed in those scenarios.

(yes i'm still in denial)

Please take these lightly colored sketches!!! Also I'm sorry for lazy handwriting;;

Also also, as always, please click/press the image for quality!!!

("Brief" explanations for each of the numbered panels is under the cut (the numbers are just the order of when I drew them, and not in chronological order of the scenes)!!!)

1. I think, because D won't be the one to shoot at Sentinel because he's grounded in this AU, Sentinel would be the one to use the last of his strength to try and shoot at D, only for Orion to block it. I couldn't figure out how to draw D in immense agony about it so I just decided to make this paper a collection of ideas. If anyone has any ideas, please tell me because I want angst--//shot (I also finally remembered to write my signature this time!!!) 1-2. The main problem I had trouble figuring out was how D would possibly let go of Orion... He'd still say the "Why did you do that, why?!" line, but I don't know where to go from there. Would Sentinel still have energy to kick D's hand? Would Orion be too heavy to hold on? Would Orion tell D to let him go? Maybe they wouldn't even be hanging over the ledge and D would just be holding him--but then what? There was too many things to ponder about just one scene, and I wanted to get my other ideas out before I forgot about them. Guyssss give me your ideas please-- 2. It always bothered me that Orion and Bee left D in Sentinel's office(?) to hold him off on his own;;; like, I get it, D won't listen, but at least tell him you're leaving??? 2-2. I think the "What did he do to you?" conversation would be much longer. Not as comical and cheesy as the comic I sketched a little bit back, but... 3. (Please read it right to left;;; I just got done reading manga when I had the idea to draw this panel;;; also the entire page honestly. I'm so sorry y'all--)At the High Guards' base, I think D'd be the one to initiate a fight with Starscream still, but do it calmly. 4. I wanted to keep this line, because it would make sense still. Also might hurt a little more *screams* (D would not do the Anime Girl Pose™️, but I wanted him and Orion to match oop--) 5. After apprehending Sentinel, somehow we'd get his (Megatronus's) cog and Orion (now Optimus) would give it to D as a token of trust. Based off of @/momonsalmonmon on Twitter/X's absolutely gorgeous comics!!! (I also DO NOT remember how the cogs looked I'm sorry for not doing further research ;w; Will do better next time I promise;;;) 6. Bee and Soundwave BFFs???? (+ annoyed Shockwave) Please. Also maybe bring back Senator Soundwave as a concept??? Miss he;; It might be interesting, with Bee also "working for the government" now,,, 7. Headcanon that Orion is bad at math and confides in Elita and D for enforcing the taxes so the citizens don't become outraged but also so that the government has enough money to do stuff. D might be like "Aww he needs our help" and Elita would be like "godddd let me work out" 7-2. I feel like I draw Elita with an annoyed expression too much I'm so sorry milady;;; I promise I love you;;;

[chiacanwritesometimes]

the three times you tried, and the one time it worked. (part 2)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

ship: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: this is unedited, so there might be some grammatical errors. this fic dives into themes of pregnancy, miscarriage, and alcohol. please please please do not interact if these themes bother, trigger, or make you uncomfortable. all information regarding my statistics have been sourced from mayo clinic, nhs.uk and cleveland clinic. please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can update this with the most accurate information! if you have gone through something like this or similar, please reach out to support groups or hotlines. i will link some down on the notes as soon as i can!

eek! one part left! i have enjoyed writing this so far, and i might do a “what they’re up to now” when im done with this series. i hope you enjoy reading it :P

===========

it was hard on him as well. how do you go from being thrown seventy years into the future, from meeting the love of your life, to losing a baby with her?

her screams haunted him, almost as much as…

he tried not to think about it too much. he promised her he was starting a new life with and for her, although she encouraged him to talk about the past to better understand him and to help him work out the trauma.

he spent most of his days in the office, filling out paperwork. he called time off from work, but you got well enough to the point where he could return without fear of you hurting yourself. most nights were spent holding each other, with either one of you or both of you crying.

80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester. it’s not that you weren’t fertile, but what you both didn’t account for was how his super soldier genes would affect everything, having the baby develop faster than it’s little body could handle. it was eight centimeters long, contrast to the common five centimeters. he blamed himself for it, but you assured that through no fault of his, it happened. you didn’t want to grow to resent him, as you knew deep down it truly wasn’t his fault. you buried yourself in statistics to find loops and explanations as to why, why you, why this, just…why. for women under 30, 1 in 10 pregnancies end in miscarriage. around 10-20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. you became depressed, finding yourself as another statistic to write down, another number in a chart. he caught on to what you were doing, but didn’t know how to handle it. he mostly just held you, and whispered words of comfort into your ear.

“why did it have to be us?” you whispered softly, one night, as he spooned you.

he paused for a moment. “i don’t know.”

“if only i-“. he cut you off. “stop. you know it wasn’t your fault. we’ll try again when you’re ready, okay?”

you went out with your friends one day, a small reward you gave yourself for being so strong. you felt bad for leaving him home, but he assured you that he would be productive.

you really didn’t drink. that’s what you kept telling yourself as you ordered, and kept ordering. you really didn’t, you just didn’t know what came over you. maybe it was the fact that the drinks were cheap, or the company was good. or maybe it was the five month anniversary. you tried not to think about it much, as you didn’t want to depress your friends. your sorrows were washed away, and for the first time in a while, you felt whole. soon, you were drunk. not tipsy, but full on, shit faced drunk. your giddy smile convinced your friends to call him, and it wasn’t long before he was there to pick you up. he scooped you up with ease, and chuckled at your exaggerated affection towards him.

“you’re drunk.” he teased, as he sat you down in the passenger seat.

“and you’re not.” you teased back. he closed the door and walked over to the drivers seat. he sat down and took a deep breath. he didn’t start the car just yet, he was just looking at you.

“well i can’t get drunk, you know that. plus, im driving. wouldn’t be responsible.”

“and you’re known for always following the rules, yes yes.” you said in a mock serious tone, making him snort.

“low blow.” he responded, as he turned the key to the ignition. the hum of the engine proved to be a good melody lulling you to sleep, and your head bobbed as you tried your hardest to stay awake. his hand was on your thigh, and his thumb traced circles. it proved wonders, and you quickly fell asleep. the car ride was fifteen minutes long, and your eyes fluttered open as your body recognized the turns to your home. you stretched your arms, muscles sore from all the dancing you did with your friends. he was humming a song, one you tried to recognize.

the music started, and was i the perplexed one?

he stopped the car, and walked to your side, opening the door.

i held my breath and said, may i have the next one?

his soft voice made your ears turn red. he helped you out of the car, and scooped you bridal style. you giggled. he walked to the front door, and you unlocked it. he gently placed you down as you both entered, and he continued.

in my frightened arms-

you smiled. “polka dots and moon beams.” you said. you recognized the song, and as you took your shoes off, he beamed at you. he nodded and continued.

polka dots and moon beams, sparkled on a pug nosed dream.

he whistled the improvisation of the trombone, and took your hands as he led you down the hall to the dining room. there, a candle lit table with two plates.

“i had this planned, but i didn’t want you to not go out with your friends.” he admitted sheepishly. you gasped and smiled.

“this is so sweet.” you were slowly sobering up. your clothes felt heavy on you, and you suggested putting on pajamas. he agreed, and the both of you walked upstairs as you talked about the events of the night. he listened intently, and sat down on the bathroom counter as you took a quick shower. the warm air made your baby hairs cling to your skin, and the mirror foggy. you finished, and grabbed the nearest towel and covered yourself. you walked out of the shower, shivering slightly from the temperature difference. you walked over to where he sat, and smiled at him.

“hi.” you said softly, soaking in the intimate moment.

“hi.” he replied, equally as gentle. he cupped your jaw, and planted a small kiss on your lips. he leaned his forehead on yours, and closed his eyes.

“you smell good. new shampoo?”

you nodded.

“you’re welcome to try it.” you smiled, running your damp hand through his hair. he grabbed your wrist, and starting placing small kisses on your knuckles, your palm, your fingers.

“you’re so pretty.” he said as he sat up from the counter and towered above you. you grinned.

“you really think so?”

he nodded.

“oh yeah. everyone at work is so jealous of me.” he boasted as you snorted.

“oh, i’m sure.” you chuckled as he took your hand and twirled you and pulled you in, embracing you. he pulled you in a long kiss, holding the back of your neck and your waist. he sat you down on the counter and one thing led to another and…

you kept replaying those moments as you stared at the two lines on the second pregnancy test. you felt dread, but also joy? it was a mix of emotions. you felt scared, what if it happened again? 80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester, you kept telling yourself. you just had to survive the first 12 weeks, and you’ll be fine.

you knocked on the doorway to his office, which was a huge step for you. you hadn’t entered that room since the incident. he looked up from his book.

“what’s up, birdie?” birdie. a nickname he used after catching you singing along to one of your favorite records, and one he used sparingly. that nicknamed grounded you, and gave you the strength to fess up.

you held up the test, and said nothing.

“two lines?” he asked, with a tone you could almost register as nervousness with a twinge of fear.

you nodded. he stood up to embrace you, laughing.

“two lines!” he kept repeating, kissing your neck. this made you ease up, and soon, you were laughing as well.

“okay, okay! we have to be prepared this time.” you stated. “but also, we can’t get our hopes too up, what if-“. you stopped laughing. you cleared your throat.

“no matter what happens, we’ll…be fine, right?”

he nodded. “we’ll be fine. for better or worse, remember?”

“pinky promise?” your request broke his heart. he set you down and extended his own pinky finger, hooking it with yours. he took your hand and kissed it.

“i’m yours, through it all.” he said, smiling.

you two had decided to take a small vacation, to get your mind off things. you refused any food that could possibly hurt the growth of the fetus, and tried your hardest to stay optimistic. you steered clear of baby clothes until after the first twelve weeks were over. how betrayed you would soon feel.

as you were three weeks in, you felt strange. similar to the way it felt the first time, but you thought it was just morning sickness or something.

you both had travelled to maine, to watch the ocean. you decided that fresh air was what you both needed. not only was the salt air fresh, but it was cold, very cold. you had taken a midnight stroll with him on the sand, and went to bed at three in the morning.

you woke up with pain, similar to the pain you would feel with period cramps. you sat up and googled “miscarriage symptoms” with shaky hands. this couldnt happen again. how could this happen again? your stirring caused him to wake up, and he saw what was on your phone. his heart dropped as he made eye contact with you. your face was pale, your eyes filled with grief.

“james?” you said, cautiously. his eyes sank. you only called him by that name when things were extremely serious.

“yes, my love?”

80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester.

…

part 2/3. update tmr!

[curlysfist]

Dutiful Husband

Synopsis: Curly cares for you deeply. Everything he does is for your sake, always. (tw: physical abuse aftermath, manipulation, unwarranted guilt. Minors DNI.)

Word count: 0.7k

Notes: unironically has been YEARS since I've written fics so forgive me if the writing is sloppy. Because. ts is also unedited and held together by duct tape and shaky hands hehe

The tears didn't cease.

Face buried in Curly’s pillow, you tried to calm yourself, chest shuddering with every breath you took, each inhale filled with the smell of stale cologne. It did little to soothe you.

Heaving, you tried to quiet yourself as Curly neared the room, hesitant footsteps closing in to march through the door after a few minutes of “giving you some time to reflect.”

It was routine. He upset you in some sort of way, you’d argue, he’d hit you, you cried, and he’d come back to talk sense into you after deciding you’d reflected enough.

If he felt fancy, he’d ask what you did wrong. You often blanked at that question.

He wouldn’t hit you, though—not now—merely a gentle pet on your head and a sad smile. As if he failed in some way. But not for the reason you would hope he had.

Curly paused outside the room, listening for a moment as you sobbed into his pillow. It didn’t take long for his patience to wane before finally barging in, taking in the scene.

In some vain attempt at dignity, you buried your face deeper into the pillow, body wracking as you focused on trying to breathe.

You could hear the creak of floorboards as he neared, ultimately sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking the unbruised part of your back, thumb pressing gently along the length of your spine. Big and warm, his hand pierced the thin fabric of your nightgown, leaving warmth in its trail. A kindling rather than the strike of red iron.

“I’m doing this for you,” he murmured softly.

“That’s what…” You hiccupped, trying to choke out the words. “That’s what my dad used to say.”

“He’s a very wise man, then.” He chuckled, his hand pausing as the other reached over to nudge your shoulder back. “C’mon, it’s rude to talk to me with your back facing me. Yes, good girl, there we go…” His fingers nudged at the flesh of your damp cheek, wiping the remaining droplets.

You stared at him, and his eyes flitted from your cheeks to your eyes.

You couldn’t snuff the sniffling, and he tsked softly. “Hey, I’m not angry anymore. You learned your lesson, right?”

Lesson, lesson..?

You nodded warily. You’d already forgotten what had pissed him off this time.

“I only do this because you remember easier this way, okay?”

“Because you care about me,” you mumbled.

“Exactly. See? Doing so good already. It hurts me more than it does you, I promise.” He gently tugged your wrists. “I love you so much.”

The words were no lie. You could see it clearly in the earnestness of his expression, the subdued warmth of his voice.

It always made you pause. Affectionate, warm, caring. You were making this guy hit you. A stone weighed down the pit of your stomach, and your bottom lip trembled despite your efforts.

You hadn’t listened properly. It’s an issue you’d had since childhood. You just never fucking listened.

After all, didn’t he always know better? His love for you was real—anyone could see it—and yet here you were, ruining things again.

The tears welled fresh as his thumb brushed over your cheek. He smiled faintly, as though forgiving you before you even spoke.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I know you don’t mean to make these mistakes. That’s why I’m here—to set you on the right path. That’s my job, right?”

You nodded again, slower this time, even as the stone twisted into an overwhelming boulder. The part of you that wanted to resist, that wanted to question, drowned beneath the sound of his voice, the softness of his touch, the way he always made it feel like it was for your own good.

And maybe it really was. It’s not like it hurt that bad. Bruises were kind of rare.

“Good girl,” he whispered, pulling you gently against him. “I knew you’d understand. That’s what I love about you—you’re so good when you want to be.”

The warmth of his words spread through you, and with it came a bitter relief. You were good. You could be good, couldn’t you? If only you tried harder, if only you listened better… maybe then you wouldn’t have to cry like this anymore.

Maybe then he wouldn’t have to hurt you so much, either.

Just listen.

[crimsonnsstuff]

Could you please write a smutty fic with thanos getting angry you chose x so he shows you how angry he’s gotten 😋

You were in the bathroom, washing your hands. All the players just got done voting and you voted to leave but the majority of the players voted to say. You saw the look in Thanos’s eyes when you voted to leave. You dry your hands off and head towards the door. Before you make it to the door Thanos walks in. You freeze. You quickly step back. “Do I look like a fucking joke to you!?” The purple hair guy yelled. “I told you one more fucking game!” He yells.

“I-i know, but..” “but what!?” He shouts. “I-I’m scared..and I wanna go home!” You sob softly. “That doesn’t fucking matter. You’re suppose to listen to me.” He growls. He shoves you into the floor and starts to pull your clothes off. You squirm around, trying to get away. “Stay still, whore!” He gets down on the floor with you and spreads your legs. He pulls his cock out and slams into you, it wasn’t gentle at all.

“You think you can just do whatever you want, huh!?” He growls. He wraps his hand around your throat and spits on your face. “Answer me slut!” You don’t answer him and he speeds up.“Gonna beat this pussy raw..show you why you should listen to me..” he spreads your legs wider. He punches your nipple and you whine. “Aw, did that hurt? Too fucking bad.” He grinds into you deeper and you squeal. He throws his hand over your mouth. “Shut the fuck up.”

“T-thanos, please..” he slaps you. “Stop talking! You’re suppose to be a good little slut and listen to me!” He slaps your inner thigh. You tighten around him. “Don’t you dare fucking cum..” he warns.Your breathing speeds up. “Don’t..” he repeats. “Gonna cum deep in this pussy..how does that sound, hm? Walking around with my cum dripping out of this tight cunt? Do you want that?” He whispers. “Yes, please..”

“Finally, some obedience from you.” He goes deeper and faster. “Gonna blow a load into this tight cunt..” he growls. Your hands grip at his shirt. He tightens his grip around your throat. He cums deep in your pussy with a roar. He pumps into you a few more times before pulling out. He stands up and kicks you in your side, causing you to yelp. “Don’t ever do that again, bitch.” He says before walking out of the bathroom.”

[yogsandchaos]

Okay more seriously I made a post about when the Iskall stuff with the Hermits went down and I do want to reiterate a few points i made there again for the dream smp fandom, tommy fans, etc etc etc

1. just because someone has left or did a bad thing, doesn’t mean you’re a bad person for enjoying the content, along with still wanting to watch that old content they did or were a part of

2. Just because someone has left or did a bad thing does not mean you cannot continue to make fan content. While it’s understandable if you don’t make more or remove art you have made, you are also not bad if you don’t. YouTube is all about collaboration and transformation. Fanart? Fanfic? Cosplay? That’s all transformative, you don’t have to stop making a new thing from the old thing. It’s fully in your right to do so, but it’s not required.

3. Do not harass people about whether they do or don’t make art or delete art, it’s transformative works and personal choice, the most you should do is ask for it to be tagged so it can be filtered.

4. Be kind to each other, and remember the people you watch are people, and people do dumb or fucked shit sometimes, every youtuber has probably held an opinion or been a part of something you’d find distasteful, that’s just what it means to be human. It’s up to you to decide where your personal line is and your comfort levels on that stuff, and no one can make that choice for you.

I want to be extremely clear I am not saying this in support of dream, fuck dream, all my homies hate dream , I just want to be clear about my own experience with how fandoms who have had issues with problematic or shitty creators have best dealt with that fact while also balancing the creative side of fandom and how you can't always just delete them from the story and have it still make any sense or not need major revisions. It's a tricky thing, and everyone's lines and understandings and sensibilities will clash against each others.

In my own personal experience, trying to police the people trying to find their own balance between "this is a bad person who should not be given more attention" and "this is a story that means a lot to me along with had many other people who worked on it and i dont want to give up on it" never ends well. I don't want someone to get hurt because they still are updating their unfinished 40k dream smp fic or something.

While I hope Dream goes away forever, I still support people who want to keep writing with the dream smp setting, or manhunt ideas, or anything. If you don't want to see it or anything, that's perfectly fine as well, but be kind about it. Have some understanding of why some people may throw themselves into fixing it, while others distance themselves entirely from it. It's messy, and you need to be kind. Everyone handles this shit differently.

Creating something transformative is deeply personal and everyone's level of comfort will be different. You can have discussions about it in a general sense yes, but please be kind to each other okay? Don't attack each other over it. I don't want anyone to feel like their a bad person because they don't want to delete some random one shot they wrote four years ago because one of the actors turned out to be a piece of shit.

[laswells-ashtray]

Hii! I’m usually too nervous to do asks but I love your writings, so I feel comfortable enough to ask you this.

Has Nik ever been banished to the couch before? And if he has, what do you think he did? I like to think that the two are very patient when it comes to each other, but maybe John was having a bad day and Nik irritated him(or maybe Nik accidentally killed one of his plants).

But yeah, that’s it. It’s not much but maybe I’ll have more in the future!👋🏾

Helloooooo, all asks are welcome here I'm like a confessional except not a priest and cigarettes are actively encouraged. [Not in a way that can hurt me legally.]

Yes. Nikolai has found his ass on the couch at least once and everyone expects it to be this big, dramatic screaming match that landed him there. They think it must have been an incident that left their relationship in tatters.

Nikolai accidentally knocked a small cactus off of a shelf and broke its pot, John was drunk enough to demand he rectify his mistake after a night on the couch because he is banished from their bedroom and touching John's arse until it's fixed. John remembers none of this the next day and asks Nikolai why he's on their couch, Nikolai's sharp bark of laughter in response only confuses him more.

[amethystfairy1]

(I keep sending asks so I dont remember if I've told you this alr or not if so feel free to just delete one of them lol)

Anyway just got back from a really long trip overseas and during that trip I downloaded a buncha chapters of your works to read in various Ubers, and because of the fact that my family has 5 people and most ubers only carry 4, my (ten-year-old) sister ended up on my lap in most cases. So she ended up reading a LOT of TTSBC and a biiit of TT. She wanted me to let you know her commentary on the things she read so here's that (chapters in the order she read them):

TTSBC:

Little birdie - "I think that that one was the most boring out of the ones I read, which is impressive cause it was really interesting. So I was like; 'its good... OMG WHAT IS HAPPENING' in a good way for the rest of the book.

Snickerdoodle - "I likey. Its one of those things that when you read it you feel like you wanna start doing push-ups but you cant read and do push-ups at the same time. It was also really cute." (take that as you will, no clue what it means lol)

Freezer-burned Fever - "That's a chapter?! It was so short... wouldn't putting ice on your back hurt your spine? Also arent their feathers really sensitive, why would he be okay with them being wet."

Hopeful Hero - "Makes me think of that one Christmas song, 'grandma got run over by a reindeer'. I loved the part where he couldn't do anything and Grian flew away and came back as an avian (still, he was already an avian but like now he was cool) and then everyone was like 'Avians arent that bad... or are they?' I liked that he let Grian push him because it showed that they were getting more comfortable with each other, it was cute, like Snickerdoodle. [holds up french fry Christmas squishmellow] also look, its like the chips they ate!"

TT

- I see the danger, it's written there in your eyes: "Scar is very cool. Mumbo... he's there. Grian is Tom Stoltman cause he's flying all night. The storekeeper... let me think of a way to say this nicely... GET OUT!!!!! [all caps, five exclamation marks]. It made my heart sad and my tummy hurt, and then the happy part hurt more because Grian was sad."

"Also... she's in college? [yes] What's she in college for? [I don't know] How'd she find time for writing a book? Isn't college for ten years? Did she write in her free time? I thought there's no free time in college? Did she do it in class? She clearly put thought into it." Message from her:

Hello! What are you doing college for? Where did you go to school for to get writing this good? I like your books. Please write 50,000 more words about Grian and Scar. Actually, add three more zeros to that. Okay. Thank you!

Awhhh???

That's so cute????

I DO get your asks I'm just so behind in my askbox I'm sorry! 😭 I love all your asks, I swear I LOVE the super long asks, I just always take long to answer them because I wanna answer them properly and take my time and I always end up taking too longggggg...

I'm so glad both you and your little sister are enjoying my stories! Thank you so much! I loved all your little comment!

Ah, to answer those questions, I'm not going to school for writing! 😆 I just write for fun and I guess I've done it so much that I managed to get pretty good at it! I'm actually a masters student, so I already have my undergraduate degree! And I'm getting my degrees in history! I'm so glad you like my stories, thank you so much!!! I dunno about 50k more Desert Duo, but I mean, stranger things have happened!

As for when I write, I do it in my free time! Which I don't have a ton of, but I'm pretty quick at typing and writing is my favorite way to relax so I manage to get a lot of it done even when I don't have a ton of time for it! Thanks so much for your nice words!!!

[loveveil]

I have so many thoughts about Cantos 6-7-8 as a matching trifecta of interweaving themes, and my one friend that's into the series just got back into it and is on canto 5. I can only hold readers in my author's notes hostage for so long, so congrats on this being my first personal post on tumblr in literal years.

Maybe I'll start using this site more than just poking around tags when I'm bored.

Anyways

Been thinking a lot about how 6-7-8 involve sinners that the most likely to be brushed aside due to surface level factors in canon and by the fandom. Now, everyone goes through some degree of being mischaracterized by people, and all the Sinners have Hidden Depths (tm), but I find these three are the most susceptible. Rodya as well but that's a whole different story entirely and she's doing it on purpose anyway. They also have the most jarring pasts to contrast how they are now, so far at least.

Like of course, hindsight 20/20 and there's only so much you can do with characters that don't want to share their past or you know don't remember about their past to share, but it's so fascinating to me. I also find these three to be the most emotionally intelligent out of everyone. I am connecting dots frantically and waving string around if you can't tell.

It was so easy to write Heathcliff off as "just one of those guys" which I can't blame anyone for because he really did not make it easy, (I love him but I'm biased about Wuthering Heights) but then the Sinners are forced with the uncomfortable truth that Heathcliff was abused and looked down on his entire life and that's why he's the way he is. Of course, he's going to snark back and get angry if you start poking at him when you're getting close to parroting the same things as his abusers.

They almost lost Don Quixote and the fact that she had to go "oh now you want to listen to my stories" was such a good moment to me. I don't think everyone brushed her aside before then, but it happened enough to make note of; it effected her. Her feelings were probably hurt! The being basically told "now you start caring when it's dire," makes me wonder if they'll start being more consciences of each other in general. Everyone saying nice things to her at the end felt so campy in a good way but also like "oh man we gotta something nice right now!!" I'm begging everyone to please care about each other. Y'all are giving me secondhand embarrassment.

Hong Lu is a different beast entirely because he doesn't want to talk about his family in depth. He plays into the naive rich kid thing well, at first anyway, so it's easy to brush him off. I can't say much about him in general because no canto yet, but I believe he is also playing a role a he wholeheartedly believes in. He too is tied to a filial piety he cannot escape perhaps (I wanted bloodfiend ID for hong lu so bad they hate me). He will just mention horrific things and go on like it's no big deal, and the conversation has moved on before anyone can call him out on it. Him deciding to be the most candid with Rodya was definitely a choice; I like it. Whoever decides to call him out on his horrific upbringing one day, I wish you luck. I do wonder if that's going to happen in one of the Intervallos because he cannot keep getting away with this; he probably thinks he can because no one has asked him to talk about it. Hit em with the "oh I thought you never cared enough to ask" Hong Lu, I dare you.

Also interesting how we nearly lost Heathcliff and Don Quixote in different ways. Would love if the same happened to Hong Lu. I like the drama.

If Canto 8 ends up dealing with themes of change and memory well, that'd be a win for me.

This got away from me, but thumbs up. I swear I can be coherent.

[isadralvs]

BROKEN. | elphaba after defying gravity. ( @glphiess wrote the glinda version go look it made me cry)

one word, broken. that's how she felt. she rode on her broom until she found a place in the west, getting off, emotions hitting her all at once. she felt guilt. she left glinda all alone. her sweet girl. it suddenly hit her that glinda wouldn't be there with her anymore, she was alone. truly alone. she had nobody.

her eyes watered, as they dropped, it stung, but not as bad as her heart breaking slowly.

she just sat on the ground for a moment, her knees to her chest as her hands went to her face as she wiped her tears, knowing it was just hurting her more - even though she tried to stop, she couldn't.

she let out a small sob, realizing everything that had happened. her life was ruined - and she lost her glinda. she missed her dearly. her mind started to wander, as she started to think. what would nessarose think? she'd believe her sister is wicked? but she wasn't - she knew she wasn't.

not that anyone would believe it. they hated her anyways.

she wondered if glinda missed her too. it broke her heart even more. the whole land of oz was now turned against her, even though she was innocent. she didn't understand why this happened.

she sobbed again, as she grabbed her broom and her bag, and she just wanted to walk, not even ride her broom.

she walked as she got to the terrain of the vinkus, where she would be her cover from the wizard and everyone who tried to get to her.

she went to a wooded area, the leafy forest bare, the sky gloomy, as she sighed and walked until she found a empty castle, making her walk towards it and inside for shelter.

she found a lantern and something to light it, and saw how it was fresh, yet empty. she sighed and sat down on a chair.

she placed her hands in her lap and took her hat off, sniffling as she wiped her eyes. she grabbed a notebook she had in her bag, deciding to write glinda a letter she'd never end up sending.

"dear glinda, sweet girl,

i'm sorry. i know this could've been prevented, and i could've chose that path, but i didn't, and i'm not. and i never will. i love you, but this is what's right. and i know somewhere in your heart, you understand. these poor animals are being tortured for nothing, and someone has to help. and if whatever his name is isn't, then i am. even if i'm hated, i will.

glinda, i miss you dearly. i wish i could be with you, i miss how you'd dance around the room to annoy me even though it never did, how you'd anyways need me to touch you somehow, even if it's a simple pat on the shoulder, how you'd talk non stop about your interests, i miss you so badly it hurts. i'm sorry it had to be this way, i wish it didn't. i love you so much and i'm sorry."

she sighed as a tear escaped again, she roughly wiped it as she slammed the book shut and threw it to the ground and shook her head.

self doubt started to set in. could this have been prevented? was she truly being dramatic? could she have convinced the wizard to stop instead of flying off the handle? but in the end, she knew it couldn't have been prevented, even if she wished it could have so she could still have glinda.

her thoughts circled around glinda, she felt so guilty. she left her. she promised she wouldn't leave her, and she did. she wondered how glinda felt, though she replaced the thought because she truly didn't wanna know. she closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

her memories went through, one specifically standing out: her and glinda, hugging eachother so tightly after confessing their darkest insecurities to eachother, whispering sweet nothings into eachothers ears.

oh it hurt her. it hurt bad.

and she thought about her sister, how nessarose felt after this. how fiyero and boq felt? she was officially alone. it was one of her truest fears to be alone, and it came true. her worst fear, and it came true. but anger soon rose within her, at herself, at glinda for not somehow coming even though she knew she shouldn't be mad, but most of all, at the wizard.

at that moment, something flushed in her. she stood up, grabbing the grimmerie and her broom going to a different room, setting it down on the table as pure rage filled her, replacing the sadness. she started planning to take down the wizard and save those monkeys along with all the animals. she was angry that he did that, and made her lose glinda: she lost glinda because of him. and oh, he was gonna regret that.

and that was now officially her hearts desire. revenge. they wanted a wicked witch? well she was gonna show them a wicked witch.

[unriding]

hi evie !! how have you been ? :33 i hope you dont mind me borrowing you and moze for something ehehe <3

[gooperts-gunk]

im so crazy over the tragedy of everything q!bbh does being under a demon pretense even though he's a fallen angel.

do u think he just accepts the demon label because it's easier. do u think he believes it too, and catches himself in his thoughts with "oh, right. im not exactly that". and maybe he believes that he did this to himself? do u think what he did was to protect himself or someone? no matter the fall, he still has so much kindness to give and his brain just isn't wired the way a natural-born demon would be, he can't hold back instincts when time demands it, maybe that's why he fell in the first place.

and when he's finally bad, not good, it's treated like the end of the world, without empathy on why he would act out. do you think this keeps happening? the same scenario, multiple times, every timeline? he has to be used to it. so he has to take it in stride. he's good until he lashes out under extreme pressure, and suddenly he's called demon. and once again he's what heaven made him out to be. what he made himself to be, his brain would ruthlessly provide...

i don't think he wants to be that, though he hides secrets behind secrets of which neither identity is a home... but i don't think he wants to have to change, either. and i don't think that's wrong of him.

...you collapse atlantis ONE TIME and all of a sudden YOU'RE the bad guy and SURE it was FUN but REALLY now,--

[pa-pa-plasma]

you just made the scientific discovery of the century & you want to tell everyone & your kids are first on that list but you can't find them. you manage to get a hold of your daughter & she says everything is fine but her voice gets tight when you try to mention your work & she sucks in a breath & says she won't keep you from it any longer than she already has & doesn't say bye as she hangs up the phone. you have a sinking feeling in your gut & you really want to get back to what you were doing but. something's wrong. where are your kids. why was your daughter not surprised when you told her. why was she so quick to hang up on you. your husband has the same type of mind & that's probably why neither of you can ignore this odd turn of events & so you decide to track them down. the research can wait. after all, the spook got away somehow afterwards. it's not like you have anything to go through but data & recordings.

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[wr-n]

Nightmare has such a complex about owning things, i love it so much. Just the fact that the people he chose to keep with him have significance to him and people taking them away is more of an atrocity to him than anything else.

That's why he was so upset when Cross decided to be more loyal to Dream because he saw him FIRST. He was supposed to be HIS.

He knows Dream isn't trying to intentionally goad him into rage-filled tantrums, but he still hates that, yet again, everyone loves Dream over him.

It's why he clings to Killer and Dust because they want him. They try to get closer to him even when he hurts them.

They're so special to him.

With Horror it's... complicated. Because he knows that what they had could never get any further than a boss and employee relationship and that was sufficient. But it does sting him sometimes when he can feel Horror's thoughts of leaving and never coming back.