#you should never attack someone because they are something

[zombolouge]

The thing is, it's not about the Therapy Speak. It's not that everyone who disliked DAV hates healthy communication as a dynamic in fiction. It's not even about only being allowed to be a good guy, really, because most of us did do that anyways (though the option not being there is a loss I grieve even if I never chose it myself, but that's another rant for another day).

It's that DAV does all that stuff at the expense of being believable. At the expense of characters being permitted to have personalities. At the expense of emotions behaving the way emotions actually work for people. At the expense of letting the plot build tension through the stakes we're forced to grapple with.

Half the fics out there take the conflicts between the characters in the previous games and resolve them. I do it myself ALL THE TIME because I like to find a path to resolution through just about any conflict, that's what fascinates me about telling these stories. But the higher the stakes, the harder a conflict is to resolve. You CAN resolve any conflict, you CAN communicate healthily through any emotion, but you can't skip the time it takes to process it all to even be able to communicate it. As someone whose got CPTSD and recovered from many Traumas, I can tell you that the TIME it takes to work through it is not something you can fast track, and the ups and downs of your emotions on that journey can't be skipped. It doesn't matter if you know exactly how to do it, exactly how it's going to feel, or exactly what the end state will be, you CAN'T speedrun it.

DAV has stakes that are astronomical, but nobody treats them that way. Nobody experiences denial - a common psychological reaction to being presented with information that shatters your worldview. Nobody expresses any distrust in the establishments handing out this information - something common among cultures that have at times been at war, even if those wars are "resolved" in the present. Nobody really ever breaks down - something that any person is capable of under extreme circumstances, especially when facing multiple crises of faith that challenge everything they thought they knew about themselves. Nobody blows their lid because they've been repressing the hell out of everything. Nobody grieves for southern Thedas, the entire thing dying off screen and giving you, the player, NO way to engage with it in any way.

Not to mention there are barely any inter-party conflicts, when there should be a lot more. Why is everyone (except Spite) fine with it if Emmrich sacrifices Manfred to become a lich? Why is everyone fine with Illario potentially being set free if he was working with the venatori and Elgar'nan, two sources that have actively attacked everyone in the party? Why doesn't Neve resent Lucanis if Treviso is picked? Why doesn't Harding get pissed off at Nevarra for having a secret society of liches that never helped during the Inquisition's war against the breach and corypheus? Why doesn't Harding feel ANYTHING about Ferelden and the rest of the south? Shouldn't Harding resent the fact that she's stuck in the north while her home dies?

All of these conflicts ARE resolvable, but not easily. And it's not believable that they're never brought up. It's not believable that these characters skip through everything that happens with like, barely a frowny face most of the time. In DAO, Alistair leaves if you don't treat his conflicts with respect. In DA2, your party members try to kill each other if you don't pay attention to their conflicts/emotional needs. In DAI, people can leave or betray you, Cassandra throws a chair at Varric and tries to body him out a window. ALL of these can be resolved but it takes effort, and the characters get to SHOW that they're bothered by them and struggling the way a person would when faced with those emotions.

The problem isn't the therapy speak, or that everyone is loyal and won't leave, or that they aren't mean to each other enough. It's that it's toxic positivity. It's toxic as fuck to imply that anger or grief should be smiled over or else you're giving up, and it's damaging to people to avoid engaging with their own negative emotional responses to extremely negative stimuli. It's pasting optimism over very real, very weighty issues, sweeping it all under the rug, and you keep waiting for the lid to blow off the pressure cooker that creates, but it never does. It never becomes anything that emulates real emotions, which is why the whole damn thing feels hollow. Everything's dying and nobody cares, not even about themselves, and that's NOT healthy communication.

It's bullshit, half-assed storytelling that didn't tell us the actual story, just the vague idea of what it could have been.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

stitches. l Joel Miller

before Jackson

Summary: the moment Joel thought he might lose you

Warnings:  angst, blood, weapons, Ellie is in on it, tears, rough night for Joel, some swearing

A/N: this is before they appear in Jackson. the idea for this chapter was given by the wonderful @underneath-the-sky-again . thank you so much! i hope you like it, sweetie. ❤️

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

"Take Ellie and try to get out of here."

You looked at him with fear but also determination in your eyes. He had expected the words that left your lips "I won't leave you, Joel."

"But you have to, if you want Ellie to be safe." You nodded "I'll find you. We'll meet outside the city. Remember that red brick building? We'll meet there."

You didn't ask any more questions, just grabbed Ellie by the arm and led her out the back door. Once again, for a moment, you turned to look at Joel.

"Go. Now."

He should have been less harsh. He should have done a lot of things, and he definitely shouldn't have led you there. The road through the city was definitely shorter, and you could find the supplies you needed for the rest of the journey. 

You were all tired, and Ellie was grumpy. She was tired of sleeping under the stars, and when you got soaked one night, she was even grumpier than Joel.

"Something warm, a piece of dry floor. That's the basics!" she said and finally Joel gave in.

These people were probably thinking the same thing. They knew someone was in the building, but they didn't know how many people were there or whether they were armed, that was to your advantage.

Joel reloaded his gun. Maybe you could get out without being noticed? But he had to distract these people, let them think you left the city a different way. His thoughts ran to you and Ellie once more, he knew you'd be fine.

The moment he entered the red brick building on the outskirts of town he knew something was wrong. It was already dark when he entered and secured the door.

"Ellie?" he called out in a muffled voice "Ellie!"

He almost had a heart attack when the girl appeared at the end of the corridor with a flashlight in her hands. Her eyes were wide, she was shaking.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quickly approaching her "W-What is it? Blood?"

Ellie's hands were covered in blood, some of it smeared on her cheek. She was pale as a sheet. Your name barely escaped her lips, and Joel felt as if his legs were giving out under him.

"That guy appeared out of nowhere!" the girl gasped, "She's bleeding terribly."

Joel rushed into the room after her. He knew one thing, he would never forget this sight. You were lying on the floor. Ellie had somehow managed to take off your jacket, but your shirt was soaked in blood on one side. The old towel that Ellie used as a dressing was already covered in blood.

"Fuck!" Joel hissed, falling to the floor next to you. "What happened?"

"There was a guy..." you replied quietly, you were breathing as if you were fighting for every breath, your eyelids seemed so weak. "A few streets away..."

"And you made it all the way here? In this condition?!"

"What was I supposed to do?!" Ellie groaned, sitting on her heels on the other side of you. "She didn't say anything. It wasn't until we left the city..."

Joel's hands easily removed yours, he lifted the towel and uncovered your side. The red mark from the knife ran almost from your hip to your bra. The wound was bleeding badly, although not as intensely since you moved less and pressed the towel that Ellie gave you.

"She'll be fine, right?" the girl's quiet voice focused Joel's scattered thoughts. "Hey! I'm asking you something!"

He nodded. That was all he could do, because he was afraid his lips would betray him. They would betray his fear, worries and uncertainty about you. It looked like you had lost a lot of blood. How much? He wasn't sure.

Focus! Focus!

"There's water in my backpack. Give it to me!" he ordered.

Ellie quickly rushed towards the backpack and after a moment pressed a bottle into his hand. He poured it over your side to clean it a bit.

"Joel? Joel..." you sighed.

"I know, give me a moment." he mumbled, but your hand lightly grabbed his. "My backpack... Ellie knows."

He looked at you, confused, and then at the girl. She didn't wait. She ran to your backpack lying against the wall and started looking through it, finally pulling out something that looked like a makeshift first aid kit. She threw it towards Joel.

A small bottle of alcohol, some bandages, antibiotics that had long since passed their expiration date. It looked bad, but it was all he had.

"I'd have to stitch the wound up." He said more to you than as if he was planning on actually doing it.

You nodded. Your eyes were closed, your breathing shallow. Despite everything, when he poured the alcohol on your side, you hissed loudly in pain.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry..."

"It hurts her." Ellie groaned, her voice shaking as she sat down next to Joel.

"I know, but it'll hurt more."

Ellie's small hands pressed a spool of thread and a needle into his palm. Without a word, she walked to where your head was, took your hands, and squeezed them tightly. She knew what had to be done, and so did you. She laced her small fingers with yours and nodded at Joel.

He couldn't remember the last time he was so scared.

Joel opened his eyes and lifted his head. He shouldn't have fallen asleep. He couldn't.

It was starting to dawn. Ellie was curled up next to you, her bloody fingers still tangled with yours. She had spent the whole night watching over you and it was only a few hours ago that he had finally managed to convince her to go to sleep. The night watch belonged to him.

After you had passed out while he was stitching your body, you hadn't opened your eyes yet. Joel knew that this night would haunt him for a very long time. 

Ellie's pale face, her tears running down her cheeks, your blood on his and her hands. He only hoped that he had done everything right. He couldn't lose you, not now, not ever.

Ellie stirred and rubbed her eyelids.

"She's not awake yet?"

Joel shook his head. "You should still be asleep, kiddo." he muttered.

She sat up and rubbed her face with her hand. Her eyes were puffy with tears.

"Do you think she'll wake up?" she asked.

God, she has to!

"If she doesn't wake up on her own, your talking will do the trick" he said, relieved to see the shadow of a smile on Ellie's lips. "You were brave, you know. If it wasn't for you..."

"You sewed her up like a rag doll." she said. "I wouldn't know what to do."

"You would know. You knew she had a first aid kit with her. Good job."

"Yeah, she showed it to me a while ago. She said it was just in case." Ellie stood up and stretched. "I need to find the bathroom. Will you watch her?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled and quietly left the room. Joel leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. His whole body ached. Warm coffee would be something he would give a lot for.

A thought flashed through his mind - how long will you have to stay here? Is this place even safe enough for another night? What if he did something wrong?

"J-Joel..."

It was quieter than a whisper, but he still heard it. He opened his eyes and saw you looking at him, your eyelids still heavy, but you fought them.

"Hi, darling." he greeted and stood up to crouch next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Ughh...horrible..." you sighed.

His hand touched your cheek and forehead. You saw the worry written on his face combined with the sleepless night.

"You had a small fever last night. I gave you antibiotics."

"Shit..." you groaned. "You wasted it on me?"

"Best decision ever."

You wanted to smile, but the muscles in your face were strangely numb. Meanwhile, Joel lifted the jacket you were wearing and glanced at your side. The wound was still red, but it wasn't anything to worry about. The most important thing was that you weren't bleeding. And you were conscious.

"Where's Ellie?" you asked.

"She's looking for the bathroom. She sat with you all night." He looked at you with sympathy and worry. "How did you manage to get here? When I showed up, you looked terrible."

"Yeah... That guy, I wasn't expecting him. I didn't want to shoot... That would draw attention."

He nodded. Damn, he knew you were strong and resilient, but he was still full of worries about you. 

Your presence was soothing to him, and the relationship you had with Ellie... The girl would break down if something happened to you. So did he, although he didn't want to admit it. 

You, on the other hand, twitched strangely, making a movement as if you wanted to get up.

"What the hell are you doing?" Joel covered you with his jacket again "You're staying like this."

"We can't stay here. These people..."

"We'll stay another night, or as long as we have to." he declared. "You won't be able to move around yet."

Footsteps in the hallway distracted you, because you clearly wanted to argue with him. Ellie's face lit up when she saw you and a moment later she was sitting next to you.

"Fuck! You scared us so much." she said. "Joel almost had a heart attack!"

The man threw her a look and shook his head. He listened to her babble as she told you in detail about the night, about everything that had happened. He smiled the moment he felt your fingers clumsily find his and squeeze them lightly.

A quiet "Thank you," that he appreciated more than anything. You were alive. Still. Soon you would move on. Slowly, but still, the three of you.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

[welivetodream]

People thinking Atsushi is just a cute lil soft boy are so WRONG.

Atsushi is one of the best executed C-PTSD protagonists who are not just "kind" because they are the MC.

Atsushi is sassy, he is mean and says things like they are, even to his own mentor Dazai, he is not afraid of saying bad things. He doesn't hold back on his words. And he can be quite quick when it comes to using sass ("are you a landmower?" "Why are you dressed like a half-finished mummy, Dazai-san" "Akutagawa, fancy a cup of tea?" "That's why Dazai-san left you")

He's not just nice. He thinks he should be nice and kind because that's what someone like him should be like. Atsushi has such a low self esteem that he NEEDS to show kindness to everyone because he thinks just like he got a second chance at life, everyone else deserves it too.

That's why he saved Kyouka and Lucy, he recognised that want for bettering themselves in them. He wanted them to get a second chance like he did. Because to him, people are not good or bad, but they have the ability to change no matter how far they have gone.

This is why Atsushi is the only one who can recognise and understand Dazai's true personality. Whenever Dazai says something self depreciating Atsushi ALWAYS corrects him. In Dead Apple when Dazai is visiting Oda's grave, Atsushi understands whoever this person was, they were very dear to Dazai. At the end of Dead Apple when Dazai says he thinks he's not a good person, Atsushi tells him he has never thought of Dazai not being a good person. Atsushi knows Dazai was in the Port Mafia, but he STILL confirms he sees Dazai as a good person regardless of his past. Because Atsushi believes in second chances, and HE gave the second chance to Dazai that Oda must have wanted Dazai to get, even if the ADA accepted Dazai, no one has ever reassured him being a good person before. (Also in BSD wan, when Dazai says "I want to go out beautifully" during the fireworks scene, in the end-credits Atsushi sits near the river the entire day because he was sad that Dazai was suicidal. And in BSD mayoi, Dazai makes a snowman of Atsushi along with Oda, Ango and Chuuya, showing how much he adored Atsushi)

It's the same with Akutagawa; Atsushi doesn't understand why Akutagawa hates him and he's mean to Akutagawa at times but it never crossed a line. Akutagawa had done so many bad things to Atsushi but at the end they still worked together. Because Dazai understood the only person who will make Akutagawa use his powers to "protect" instead of "attack" is Atsushi. During the ending fight in S3, Akutagawa makes an armour for Atsushi as they combine their powers. And in the end credit scene of S5, we see Akutagawa protecting Atsushi AGAIN. This time Akutagawa isn't wearing the same coat Dazai gave him and for the first time shows true loyalty to Atsushi. ("Just the two of us?" "Do we need more?" *SCREAMS*)

Atsushi's relationship with the headmaster of the orphanage shows how much the trauma affected him as a child. When he can't forgive the headmaster at his death, he hates himself for not being able to give a second chance. And that's when Dazai steps in and tells him, "we cry when our father dies" something Atsushi really needs to hear and he finally cries.

Atsushi reassures Dazai all the time and Dazai snaps Atsushi out of his self depreciation all the time. Their solidarity throughout the story, shows why that day when Dazai chose Atsushi for the ADA; he recognised not Atsushi's powerful ability but his true ability in choosing to believe in people when no one can.

[ane-doodles]

Abut this 2024... Thanks to everyone

I wanted to sit down and write something for this end of the year full of surprises, please be patient with me because I am relying on a translator for this.

I recently decided to take a look at my blog posts this year, and boy have I seen some great things! Not only a significant improvement in my art, but seeing how I've dared to try new things and all the wonderful gifts I've received from all of you.

Starting with the fact that I probably wouldn't be here fulfilling my dreams and sharing my art if it weren't for all of you. Thanks to everyone who chipped in to help me with my PC, thanks to you I still have my job as a designer (hey surprise, I was the most active designer in the company this year :D), it has allowed me to do my research for my thesis, it has allowed me to dedicate myself to commissions as I have wanted for years and above all it has allowed me to share my art and improve significantly. Thank you.

I also want to thank everyone who wished me a happy birthday this year!! It was a bit of a complicated date at home and I spent weeks preparing my massive drawing attack (pt1 and pt2) … but I'm happy that everyone enjoyed it. Special thanks to the wonderful people who made me drawings QwQ, I promise to put them in my album one day. (There are a few more drawings missing from my pendrive, thanks to you too)

Special thanks also to everyone who attacked me during artfight!! I never expected so many people to shoot me with so much art, so many different styles that I really appreciate (my mom says she wants to frame some of them haha). I also got the chance to attack a lot of people with art, it was fun and I got to experiment a lot with coloring techniques and learned to draw faster. (Special mention to the last drawing which is a gif and should be appreciated properly, loviu <3)

Thanks also to all of you who have enjoyed my little comics. These have been pure experiment, trial and error… And seeing your comments has brought me a happiness that I can't describe (I want to talk about this later in another post, in the meantime let's continue with my cheesy stuff)

Special thanks to @/the-one-who-lambs (I'm embarrassed to tag >///<)who made me take up one of my old hobbies that I had abandoned years ago, now I have two giant bags of stuffing in my room for future use :3

Special mention to all of you who decided to commission me for art this year… You have been a special blessing in my home. Thanks to you and those who sometimes stop by my redbubble store I have been able to help out around the house and yesterday (after more than nine years) I was able to take my family out to eat and buy new clothes for the new year. Thank you.

And well, to finish I also want to thank all the friends, artists and in general everyone I have met during this year. In my life I never thought I would get to talk to someone behind the screen, much less with people I don't know in person or that I admire… It's still difficult for me but little by little I have been learning and I have gathered the courage for small conversations and interactions. I have received words of encouragement, questions, casual conversations, compliments and advice, and I can't think of anything that I value more than this, especially for someone who rarely leaves home but enjoys sharing their art with the world.

This year I have experienced so many new things that I can hardly imagine what surprises next year will bring. In the meantime I promise to put more effort into my art! try new things! try to interact more! (please be patient with me) and above all have fun with all of you.

Thank you all very much

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

So in your mind Bakugou, a child, should have died? Really?

Bakugou is a fictional character.

The parasocial relationship and puritan crap I keep seeing is just weird.

But if you actually want what I think should have happened with Bakugou? I said it before: his arc should have ended with him being mid-rank and completely content with being a secondary hero. No agency, no top twenty position.

Bakugou is set up as being what society thinks a hero should be. Strong, fit, Flashy Quirk.

Yet as we know he's not a good perso. He makes fun of the guy who doesn't have a Quirk which is treated as a disability. He uses rude nicknames which kinda are Quirkist to. Commenting on the physical appearance of mutant characters who are said to suffer from discrimination due to said appearance. The fact he not only purposely triggers a side effect of a Quirk but seems to mug Kaminari for money to give to Kirishima despite the fact he is a rich kid. (I can’t remember if its said the money is his or not but its one of those panels I never know about.) The aggressiveness, the rudeness- it adds up.

What should have happened if we want to make Bakugou go through character development to be a better person is that he 1) faces more consequences for his attitude then he does in canon (IE: he is called out for the insults and name calling. A few angry comments from Shouji, Tsu or any of the mutant characters should have occurred. He gets called out and when he doesn't change people avoid him. He is ignored by them unless they are working with him or he needs help. Its made clear they do not want to be around him.) 2) faces actual punishment for his actions towards Izuku or others (IE: Kaminari makes a complaint about being forced into whey mode, Bakugou gets a warning or something. He receives punishment for nearly killing Izuku during the battle trials and ignoring a teacher. He is disqualified for trying to attack Todoroki after his match at the sports festival, not that mess of a situation) 3) Is not in any way an ‘important’ character.

The third one is tricky so I'll explain. It goes beyond the ‘Izuku shouldn't be have to be friends with Bakugou like he kind of is’ issues I have.

By this I mean Bakugou should be redundant as a character and the narrative shows it. He should find himself sinking while everyone else climbs higher. His Quirk SHOULD have actually drawbacks we see. Not just the mention of wrist issues. We should see him hurt himself and need to take a second. He should have frankly lost the sports festival to Uraraka and not gone on. And part of that SHOULD have been his Quirk not working how he wanted it to. Because the world relies on Quirks and Bakugou is hyper reliant on his.

Make it clear that's why. Then I want Bakugou to not be at the top of the class. Why? Because he is the normal fish who moved from his tiny pond to a big old ocean. Yes, he’s smart but take it from someone whose brother was smart in a small town: that don’t mean shit when your teachers suck.

Bakugou can be top ten. I just want him to have to face the fact he isn't the top of the class. The big dog on campus because everyone else is just as driven as he is, and some of them are smarter or faster or more skilled then he is.

This should end with Bakugou making his realization after the final exams where he hits Izuku and is flunked for it. It should have been noted and due to the fact in a real situation like that you'd end up probably arrested or investigated, he fails.

This should have been the turning point. When we actually see Bakugou break down. When the class has stepped away from him. When the only one sticking around is Kirishima because the guy honestly thinks Bakugou can be a better person.

Key phrase: CAN BE. Not that he is. I want it to be clear Kirishima sees good in Bakugou and wants to bring it out. Not that Bakugou is secretly a tsundere.

This is the turning point became it leads to the LOV attacking the camp looking for Bakugou because they see him like them. I want them to have noticied his antics in the festival where he is aggressive and loud. I'd like for Aoyama to have been feeding info about recruits. I want Bakugou to hear they want HIM as he's villainous and this should shake him.

He isn't kidnapped. Someone else is. Tokoyami actually to bring focus to mutation and Quirk discrimination.

I want Bakugou to truly have to look at HIMSELF as a person. And realize he isn't what he wants to be. A hero.

This leads into him eventually becoming a much better person as he works through his shit. Its going to be messy. And I want him to struggle through it. While doing so he slowly fades into the background. We turn attention to Uraraka, Todoroki, Tsu, Aoyama and Iida as the secondary characters to our protagonist Izuku.

We get to know them, we get to know Aoyama as he integrates himself into their circle. We have way more of a punch for the traitor.

In the end I want an apology from Bakugou to Izuku that is meaningful and honest and then… he goes off, becomes a hero ranked like 150 and is happy. He's buddies with Kirishima and a few others, he goes to the reunion with a hi. Maybe the offer of a team up or not.

And I think that would have been the perfect ending to his arc. From the bully to the atoner.

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

Rabbit Restoration Project: |4|

It was a bad idea. It was a very, very bad idea, you thought.

It wasn't exactly like the situation with the rabbit had happened a long time ago. As you sat on the living room couch, shifting uncomfortably, your phone was pulled out.

The time was only 7:30--and there was a part of you that almost couldn't believe that such a short amount of time had passed.

It was still so early--and, originally, after returning from the drive... you just planned on collapsing atop a surface, and letting yourself drift off into a nap.

Finding the rabbit had changed your plans--especially with the thing choosing to get up on its own for almost no reason and explore your home.

Is it malfunctioning? You put the phone back in one of your clothing's pockets. It did look pretty bad... worse than anything else I've worked on in some time.

You shifted around again on the couch, but no position really seemed to be all that comfortable. Wouldn't it just do something else? Why would it take a look around?

Somewhere else within your home, an unknown item seemed to collapse--as the clatter of it reached your ears--nearly causing you to flinch. It was followed by footsteps.

A deep breath was pulled in. The robot thing... you hadn't exactly chosen to follow after it after the little deal with the shovel.

You'd had very few encounters with a robots--animatronics--but in all of those quick moments, you had never seen one upset before--not like after the arm had detached.

It was upset with that. With me? A strand of hair found its way between your fingers and was in the process of being spun. They aren't supposed to get like that...

As far as you were aware... simple things like that--whether they were meant for some kind of restaurant--or a haunted house--like what you recalled when first finding it...

They didn't exactly seem to be aware--to be sentient. They would all do what they needed, but that was simply because of whatever programming that they had been given.

The few you had seen, they'd been trapped in place--whether that was a tiny little stage or strung up somewhere high--and their movements had always been limited, and choppy.

Although, the rabbit had seemed aware. Very aware.

When the two of you had bumped into each other while leaving the bedroom, it... the way it reacted--had it gotten startled? I don't think it was expecting to see me...

And then you'd made it lose a limb. It wasn't like you meant for that to happen--the rabbit was just... evidently, quite damaged from something--and far more than you had thought.

The rabbit had been uselessly trying to reattach the limb--that had been clear in its intention. If it had been any other robot I'd seen... You rose. It would have just kept doing whatever was programmed.

Is it just more advanced? Really broken, but advanced. Another clatter from somewhere, and your body couldn't help but tense ever so slightly.

The commotion had been going on ever since the rabbit disappeared, and in the moment, you hadn't been very certain on following after the thing--not after that.

What if it attacked? The thought was still making its way through your mind, bumping into other, calmer thoughts. If it did... well, what could you do?

The thing was heavy and made of metal. If anything were to happen... you were completely certain that the rabbit would be the winner, and you, the loser.

Maybe it's only weak to shovels. As the thought drifted in, you held in a snicker, before forcing your legs to start moving forwards.

Earlier, you'd been hesitant--but, maybe, you really should try to see what was going on...

The thought of calling someone--or just leaving--had already made themselves known--but... how exactly would that go?

Simply shaking those two away, you moved further away from the comfortable couch, hand reaching into a pocket to retrieve your phone.

You still didn't plan on attempting to call anyone, no. Instead, fiddling with it in one hand, you managed to get it onto the camera app--preparing it to record.

At the very least, while checking out just what exactly the rabbit was doing, you could try to give some updates to your viewers--given the stream had ended rather abruptly.

The longer that you walked, the closer all of the sounds seemed to be getting. Right now, it just sounded as if someone happened to be pacing within your home.

It was pretty easy to know just who that someone happened to be.

Turning a corner, you were met with a few doors--most of them still remained untouched, closed--just like how you typically left them.

Although, to the right, there was one door--which was the third bedroom in the house, and you only recalled a rare guest visit resulting in the room being used once--was wide open.

Sucking in a breath, and trying to keep your steps quiet, you began advancing again.

Your plan was to try and hide out of sight but stick the phone out enough to record the thing in there--just for a few seconds, at least--and then retreat.

What if it sees the phone? Your eyes narrowed. Would it even know what a phone is? Would it not be bothered, and keep doing... whatever?

Pushing yourself against the wall--before your legs started to move backwards, and retreat before anything was done--the 'record' button was pressed on the little device.

With an arm outstretched enough for the phone to be taking a good enough look into the room, you tried to keep your breathing a little quiet. Can it hear pretty well?

From inside of the room, yet another thing fell down onto the floor--and what sounded like a rather frustrated grunt--certainly from the rabbit--followed.

Then, there was the stomping of a heavy, mechanical foot.

Deciding that that was enough, you pulled the phone back towards you--pressing the 'record' button once again, so that it would actually stop.

Your other hand did the movement first--slamming the door shut--even as your mind was in the middle of processing, and trying to ignore, the thought.

From within the room, there was a low grunt--and a loud whirring sound, as if something were turning--like the mechanical head of the rabbit, for example.

Although, in the moment, that was just your best guess--you didn't care to reopen the door and check on the thing.

Instead, spinning yourself around, you began speedwalking through the home--hoping that the rabbit wouldn't turn the door handle, look out, and follow.

In the middle of the little retreat, you glanced down at the phone--pressing the newly recorded video.

It showed the rabbit standing to the left of the bed--with the detached limb abandoned on the covers. There was a tall, bare nightstand.

It contained about five drawers, though--three of which, in the video, had been completely pulled out, and were collapsed uselessly on the floor below.

Just as the video had started recording, the rabbit had seemed to pull its attention onto the fourth drawer, pulling it wide open, before going through some kind of search.

What's it trying to find...? Dissatisfied, not being able to locate what it wanted, the rabbit pulled the newest drawer out completely, and the object quickly joined the other three.

The rabbit grunted, and then stomped its foot--just like what you had heard while waiting.

Turning the phone off, and shoving it back into your pocket, you turned the rest of your attention into not accidentally bumping into anything.

If the rabbit had left the room, it didn't seem to be following, at least. I'm sure I would hear it... it's a loud thing.

In record time, you reached your own bedroom--shutting the door with your foot as you hurried inside.

The bedrooms didn't exactly have any locks--but with a seemingly frustrated robot rabbit within your home... you really wished that this one did, at least.

There was a bean bag chair in your room. It was the first thing to come into your vision--so, for a few seconds, you took the time to pick it up and place it in front of the door.

The only other thing's in the dim room were the bed, a nightstand, and the dresser that your TV sat across. You doubted that you could move any of that.

The bean bag chair would, unfortunately, have to do.

With a low groan, you fell forwards onto the bed, face meeting the hardest part of your pillow.

@mcfries123 @ravenmccookies @spaciebabie

[gremlin-girly]

Day 31: Fireworks

Pairing: Steve Rogers x f!agent!reader

Fandom: MCU

Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, first kisses, mutual pining, Tony being Tony, innuendo

Summary: You know who you're kissing at midnight. Steve knows who he wants to kiss. Now - how will you make it happen?

Word count: tba

A/N: WHEW! What a year folks. Still going through 500 drafts and edits but I'm on track and that's all that matters 😭 Hope to see you next year 💘

Prev | Fluffcember Masterlist | Navigation

Steve's eyes never left you from the moment you entered Tony's New Year's Eve party.

He knew you were getting ready with Natasha but he wasn't entirely prepared for what you'd be wearing. Maybe because he was too used to seeing you in work slacks and a shirt that the thought of you in your little black dress, hugging you like a second skin, was utterly sinful.

You had on one those stupid golden Happy New Year!! headbands and that should have helped his brain focus but God, you were right there with your head tilted back in a warm laugh at something Clint had said.

"Hey pal," Bucky nudged at his arm with a knowing smirk. "Someone caught your eye?"

Steve tugs his gaze from you to frown at Bucky. Bucky sips at his beer and raises an eyebrow at Steve before looking over at you.

"Have you asked her yet?"

"Asked her what, Buck?" Steve knows what his best friend wants the answer to but he can't bring himself to say it out loud.

"Asked her who she's kissing at midnight." Bucky takes another swig of beer and eyes Steve suspiciously. "And from your play-dumb act, I'd say you haven't. You've got five minutes, Steve."

Steve swirls his beer and casts another longing glance over to you. He shouldn't be so scared of asking you a simple question, or asking you on a date, but every time you were around he felt like butterflies had taken flight in his stomach and he was suddenly just that little punk from Brooklyn all over again.

What if you said no? What if you turned your nose up at him like so many others had before? What if he wasn't good enough to be your boyfriend if, by some miracle, you said yes?

So wrapped up in his own worry, he didn't notice Bucky waving you over. He almost had a heart attack when you spoke, gripping his beer bottle so hard the glass began to creak dangerously.

"Hey boys," you beam, taking up the empty space next to Steve. "Happy New Year."

You were so close to Steve that he could smell your perfume. Light, airy and sweet. A blush creeps up his neck as he quietly wishes you a happy new year in return.

"Happy new year, doll." Bucky greets, hiding a satisfied smile behind his beer. "We were just talking about you."

Steve shoots Bucky a warning glare.

"Oh really?" You smirk at Bucky. "Nothing bad I hope."

Bucky shakes his head. "Not at all. Just wondering who you'll be kissing at midnight."

Now it's your turn to glare at Bucky. "You've spoken to Nat haven't you?"

Bucky shrugs nonchalantly. "Don't know what you mean."

Steve looks between you both confused. "Erm, who are you kissing?"

Your cheeks glow red as you turn to Steve. "Depends. Are you kissing anyone at midnight?"

"I-"

Steve is at loss for words, his thoughts interrupted by the beginning of the countdown. Bucky jumps up and makes a beeline for Nat, who gives Steve a wink of her own.

"Nine!"

"Well?" You press, smiling shyly at him.

"Eight!"

"No." Steve says quickly, his lips twitching upwards.

"Seven!"

"I'm not kissing anyone." Steve's heart is in his throat as he begins to slide off his seat.

"Six!"

"Good." You nod looking up at him, closing the small distance between the both of you.

"Five!"

"You can kiss me then." You murmur, carefully watching how his gaze is glued to you.

"Four!"

"Then we can watch the fireworks outside." Steve's voice is low, breathless whisper and his smile has gotten bigger. Worry seeps into his mind but he pushes it away when he feels your soft hands reach up to his cheeks and gently guide his face to yours.

"Three!"

"I like that idea." You brush away stray hair from his face and your eyes flit to his lips.

"Two!"

"I have quite a few of them." Steve teases softly, his own hands finding your waist. He could learn to get used to this.

"Not as good as Natasha's." You grin, inching your face closer to his.

"That's fair." He chuckles, sucking in one final breath.

"One!"

Your lips meet in a sweet kiss, one you both melt into for a lot longer than you both realising. It's Tony's voice that makes you both break apart, beet red, hearing the whoops and cheers of you friends and colleagues.

"Looks like some of us will be starting the new year with a bang." Tony taunts you both, shaking a bottle of champagne that pops loudly above the chatter. "Now... New Year new bottle, anyone?"

[tigersharkapologist]

Oh absolutely. To be honest I completely forgot he claimed it was his father’s guiding spirit. But that extra detail makes this situation even sadder because that means he DEFINITELY doesn’t remember being physically abused (this is like the worst thing to be right about my goodness) if he’s putting his father in a positive light. And you’re right about them not being mutually exclusive because this is the mental health of a severely traumatized individual who’s brain is being wracked by a PTSD episode and already weakened by stress and drug usage. Anything could be happening up there, it would certainly be a fallacy to say that “because so and so happened such and such couldn’t have”.

In the moment of the attack on Geta, I don’t believe Caracalla believed that his father’s spirit was clutching his wrist—to be honest I dont think he even felt anything at all, he was completely off his rockers. I think, after the deed was done and all he saw was the severed head of his brother, Macrinus right next to him and a bloodied knife in his hands, Macrinus had to explain something quick because Caracalla’s still suffering from the throes of his episode. He has to put himself in a positive light just to keep himself outside of Caracalla’s line of fire. I think he tells Caracalla that it was his father’s spirit’s wish and guiding hand, and that his spirit communicated to him that he wanted Caracalla to choose Dondas as his first consul (he would be playing it safe here because he knows Caracalla values his fur baby far more than Macrinus—he would be stretching it if he claimed he should be first consul), and that Macrinus should be his second consul. This puts him on the dull end of Caracalla’s knife and subsequently raises him in power. And Caracalla takes the bait, of course he would, Macrinus is someone he can rely on right? Why would Macrinus, the same person who would give them sound advice and genuinely care about their leadership lie to him? right?

Macrinus definitely did a lot of behind the scenes work with tempering Caracalla to be ready for the meeting with the Senate, which was like? a dayish after Caracalla’s episode? Or perhaps on the same day the movie’s never clear but the head looks fresh.

There’s another little detail the movie gives us that might add on to this; when Caracalla enters an episode, his eyes are always half lidded. He seems, calculated? Almost? Like Geta, in a sense. Albeit completely out of his mind. You cant even see the light in his eyes anymore. We know that he’s no longer suffering from his episode and has completely calmed down in the deleted scene. He’s back to chipper old Caracalla, bright eyes, naive and that dorky smile is slapped back onto his face. That and the fact that the amnesia kicked in fully. Ignorance is bliss.

Caracalla was, understandably, simply having a mental attack because the people were calling for their heads—but I like the little detail that Caracalla literally cannot think of one bad thing his brother did to him other than “trying to strangle him in the womb” lol. Which implies that Geta was that good of a brother to him.

_______________________________________________

bonus because I think there’s way more to it than just being Ha Ha Funny Gag to Lighten Tension and because I have a hyperanalyzation for hyperfixations problem:

TW: mentions of physical and emotional abuse, child abuse, bullying and murder

That or the darker undertone being that he cannot remember anything bad Geta did because of his memory loss from neurosyphilis (a disease that can cause memory loss). Which also implies that he probably doesn’t remember any of the crude specifics of the abuse they had to undergo in their childhood—only how it made him feel. Which is why, if you look really closely at his facial expressions during his episode, he hesitated only a little at the mention of that, but still didn’t falter entirely.

An even darker undertone being that he was experiencing so much of a specific kind of stress that his brain assumed it was being attacked by the same assailant that he had dealt with as a kid, Septimius Severus. So much so that it went into fight or flight. Caracalla was shouting “you lie!! You always lie!!” at his brother. From what we can tell with the little screentime we got of them, Geta has never shown to have any malicious intentions towards his brother, he had quite the opposite actually. He never lied to him. Like ever. But you know who probably DID lie to them constantly?

Their. Despicable. Sleazebag. Narcissistic. No show. Parents.

What if the neurosyphilis combined with the onslaught of the immense stress he was experiencing (so much so that it threw him into a fight response) made him believe Geta was Septimius? Think about it. Caracalla is under the full influence of an injured brain, and that same brain is being influenced by a hyper aggressive disease; neurosyphilis. What if he was so affected by the lies told to him in his childhood, that the minute he figures out something is a lie, or suspects of lying, it causes him to snap. Look at how he got with Acacius when he found out that his loyalty was basically a lie.

Lies cause him that much stress, they have to be connected with abuse. Look at him!! Lies are definitely his PTSD trigger.

Roping it back to Geta’s death. ,, Caracalla’s amnesia and panic response from his PTSD very well could have made him confuse Geta with their father. Though not all, it is not unheard of that survivors of immense physical abuse (in Caracalla’s case—being constantly punched and beaten up by a grown man when he was like?? 10??) attack someone close who they’ve confused with their abuser when an episode strikes. (keep in mind these are rarer cases but Caracalla is a rare and extreme case himself). It could be a huge possibility that Caracalla mistook Geta as their father and, he (understandably sick of Geta standing in between his father and taking those blows for him) decided to take his father head on and strike back—ultimately killing who his brain confused as Septimius. Another reason I believe this is because he literally reverted back to childlike tendencies and hid under the table when he felt this stress. Trembling, crying, whimpering, a very sore sight. It was as if he was taken back to the time where he felt this kind of fear before-- because that's literally what happened. I genuinely do not think Caracalla would ever kill Geta, his brother, his closest and only real friend. Even if he wasn’t in his right mind. Those two have lived through hell together, those trauma bonds are the strongest bonds Ive ever seen. They could fight, they could get real disgusting towards eachother, but I know nothing could break that sibling trauma bond, and I speak from experience. You could hate that man but he will always be your ride or die. Geta and Caracalla were TIGHT. He had to have confused him with his father during his PTSD episode. I highly doubt thats what the directors were going for but UHH idc lol that's what aus are for.

I want to know more about Septimius Severus. Was it just beating up his kids? I'm not undermining the grotesqueness of those actions, I want to know what else he did. It was clear he was a liar, it was clear he was a physically abusive "father” (he doesn't even deserve that title), but if it was so easy for him to hit his kids, than that opens up a whole new possibility of things he did. Like if it was so easy for him to punch a child, what else was easy for him? Did he refuse to feed them? Did he refuse to give them any gifts or luxuries? Is that why the twins are overindulgent to the point they suffer from it? Did he lock them out of the house to freeze in order to assert dominance? Did he publicly shame them as punishment? Did he shame them for the way they looked? How they were an embarrassment to the family name because of their appearance being too similar to the barbaric northern tribes they were conquering? Were plates thrown at them? Were they bullied by other children in their age group for having unloving parents? Did anyone worry for them? Did any bystander care? Did anyone ever intervene? Did they cower in fear of facing that same wrath that those children were forced to endure? What was the twins reaction to the death of their father? Were they overjoyed? Were they hollow? Were they, in a twist, mournful? Did they ever have real friends? Like friends that they didn't need to change themselves to feel accepted?

_____________________________________________

To pivot off that last sentence (not really related to the main point at all but I NEED to say it),

I don’t think so on that last one. I think they had to change themselves entirely and put on this fake persona in fear of being disliked. They did everything to follow the Patrician crowd, everything that made their lives even worse. And I bet you they thought they were making friends.

Nah. They were making temporary fragile alliances. For every 10 “friends” they’d make, 1000 enemies would be formed. And I bet you further that the Patrician didn’t respect them at all. Those blue bloods know when there’s blood in the water and they know that the two changed and rewired themselves just for acceptance. In their eyes, Caracalla and Geta are weak emperors (unfortunately they are. Conquesting counts do not equal to strength in oneself); easily replaced. And if Macrinus was thinking it, you can count on the rest of them, too. Remember in that deleted scene where Caracalla forgot he killed his brother? EVERYBODY knew about the murder but him and NOBODY batted an eye. Either they were scared of Macrinus (which I doubt they even knew he was apart of said murder) or they DEAD AHH DID NOT CARE ABOUT GETA LIKE AT ALL. THEY DIDNT LOOK EVEN SLIGHTLY UNCOMFORTABLE BRO 😭🙏. It was the SENATORS. SENATORS. That looked shocked. They weren’t even going to say “ave Dondas” out of pure shock until Macrinus said it first to pressure them.

Enough of my prattling. In conclusion, Caracalla is so far off the deep end he literally thought his own brother was his father DURING the height of his episode let me be clear (which isnt really the biggest stretch to be dead honest—it’s caracalla bless him my poor baby), is pretty much permanently ruined and scarred because nobody is going to help him—no one cared enough, and he is never EVER going to live a normal happy life. Geta tried so, so very hard to give him that, but in the end, the two were born hated, born broken, and the world reminded them that until both of their untimely ends.

[s-c-l-n]

i need the internet to sit down and realize that screaming and shouting about palestine at random jewish people online is not productive nor helpful. i would actually argue its only harming your cause.

naturally this does not count for podts explicitly about palestine/israel, rather seeing someone talk about judaism and writing “free palestine” as a comment or harassing jewish people on the streets because they are jewish

suddenly it feels very obvious why american jews feel unsafe post-october 7th.

if your “activism” includes harassing people for their culture, youre not being helpful.

[katyspersonal]

*has another bad memory activated after a chat* I remember at the beginning of me joining the BB fandom, in summer 2021, I had the worst luck ever of attracting a person over discussing Izzy with now deactivated user, who instantly jumped at me with so much warmth, interest, questions, engagement and trust that by that time not even my friends were so affectionate

We exchanged Discords and chatted for a week or two, and I was feeling so, so, SO safe. It's been after a what, three years period of emotional abuse from every corner, loneliness, depression and meds? It felt like a final healing ray of warm sunshine after the longest and coldest night. She (at least it was her pronouns back then, dunno if it changed by now or not) wished me good night and good morning and was so genuinely invested in talking to me, I thought I've found a new friend.

......then, one morning, I messaged her a headcanon I thought she'd like, but saw that she blocked me on Discord. And Tumblr. I did not know why, so I asked a shared mutual to ask her what happened on my behalf. But while waiting for that mutual, the pain grew so severe that I no longer wanted to know. I simply made a throwaway account on Tumblr to tell her in her face how much it hurt and that she should not lure people with fake sense of trust and warmth if she is ready to just backstab them like this. And what did she do? Well, she posted a rant about me in her blog, namedropping me so people could "stay safe", pretending like I've done sone irreparable harassment to her when I just told her to not act like a friend and then bail without explanation, and worse: she revealed that all along, she was reading some twisted emotional manipulation in my messages when I was just being socially awkward, and instead of addressing her problems with me in MY face, she was showing my messages to her friends to discuss with them how """manipulative""" I was and took their advice to block me and run. 🤦‍♂️

Needless to mention that as soon as Eugene started a crusade number 2 against me, she instantly joined her on this one like "heeeey guys I am a victim of this horrible abusive monster too, she MANIPULATED me and HARASSED me when I tried to get away!!!!" 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️

Ever since she blocked me after acting very affectionate and friendly in every way possible, I've had nightmares about her for half a year and I still, to this day, feel scared every time I hit a good conversation with someone in the fandom. I always get paranoid that they, too, might read nonexistent malice in my messages and discuss the level of my "harm" behind my back. After what she did I struggled to trust anyone in the fandom. But of course she acted like she was the victim who got harmed here. All because she could not address her suspicions of me in my face and because I told her "don't fucking cultivate strong trust only to break it"!

Fuck you, Spade, you deserve my hatred even after all this time, and I'll hate you until I stopped second-guessing everyone I chat with. Which is still a problem I have. I hate people who throw words of affection and warmth around like they mean nothing and then act all weirded out when people they got to trust them, big shock, started to TRUST them! "We weren't even friends we only talked for like two weeks!!!! 🥺" then why you did literally everything to act like a friend to me? And I sure hate people who can't even say "Hey, this thing you say makes me feel unsafe like you want to get certain reaction from me, can you Not" instead of talking bad faith trash about me behind my back. I hope a moment of fame feeling like a victim of terrible abuse was worth it, huh? God, you should become friends with Anna, you two are horribly similar.

[phantom-does-a-thing]

It’s almost worse knowing they hurt me unintentionally because I don’t have any right to hate them. It was an accident, they didn’t know, but still I have breakdowns at the mention of them and they don’t even know.

[slowlyfoggydestiny]

Soo it happen again huh

[werewolfbneimitzvah]

vent post. There are two stories i was told in my teenage years that even before i had a real concept of trans issues made me uninterested in discussing the supposed sacredness and safety of separated sex-based spaces.

First, when i was like 13 or 14 my PE teacher told us about a time she went to a women's public restroom, some guy was hanging out outside the bathrooms, she didn't think anything of it, went to the bathroom, and he walked in after her and like, creeped on her over the top of the stall. She was ok, she wasn't telling us this to scare us, just telling us what to do in situations like that (and iirc she was telling the whole co-ed class this, not just girls, bc it's useful for everyone), but this taught me immediately and forever that there's nothing actually keeping these spaces separate really, that anyone can be a creep in any space, and that establishing a space like that as for women only isn't actually particularly useful for safety.

Second, when i was 16 i was at an anime convention, a friendly acquaintance of mine and i ended up in conversation outside, and he showed me his bare wrist and told me he'd been kicked out. A female friend of his had stepped in dog poop outside, and between that and the stress of the convention she'd had a bit of an emotional breakdown, so being her friend, he started comforting her and ushered her into the women's restroom so they could wash the poop off her shoe together. And because he was a man who went into the women's bathroom, he got kicked out, no matter that he was doing something that was actually beneficial to a woman. Punishing a woman's friend for supporting her was supposed to... protect her somehow? This made it clear to me that a no-exceptions rule separating the sexes like that wasn't actually inherently good for everyone.

And this isn't even getting into me as a child needing to accompany my younger sister to the restroom when we were out with just my dad because she had certain support needs past the age he felt comfortable bringing her into the men's room with him. And what if I'd been born a boy, or she'd been the first born? Who's helping her then?

And of course even putting all this aside, we should always prioritize compassion and support anyway. But i never even needed to meet a trans person to know that "keeping men out of women's bathrooms" is silly nonsense. But trans people also need to pee anyway and as humans they have that right, so leave them the fuck alone. your precious women's restroom is just a fucking room with a door, holy shit give it a fucking rest, if someone is attacking you in the bathroom that's bad and if someone is in there to pee that's good and it doesn't fucking matter what their junk is or was when they were born.

a woman could have done the exact same thing to my PE teacher and it would have also been bad no matter how "supposed" to be in the restroom she was, and no one should ever be punished for helping a crying friend wash their shoe.

Anyway i know I'm speaking to like-minded folks here, i just think about those two stories literally every time bathroom gender shit comes up and it pisses me off.

[the-joy-of-knowledge]

25 Laws of power for women

Conceal your goals especially the ones that are appealing. Losing weight, reinventing yourself, marrying wealthy. Instead talk about your altruistic goals - to help children, invest in education, this will chase insecure people with vile intentions.

Do not give anyone your source of power: Was is a book that changed your life? a mentor? a movie? Never give up your secret to success. If forced to do say allude to God, the universe, the a random phenomenon

Use the patriarchy to your favor; we live in a world that is, only associate with men who have power, use that power for good.

Never appear too perfect but be selectively vulnerable when needed. Only share something that you will be comfortable saying. You might say “I forget my keys all the time,” “I don’t know how to perfectly park a car “. But never disclose something you are not comfortable with just because you are afraid of being perfect.

Maintain distance in relationships. Friends are the best and you need them. But if you feel that they are becoming too dependent, see them at your own will. But also the reverse could be the case. Your friend may keep a distance, and that is the way of life. You have got to move on from it.

Develop your own style that makes you unique, beautiful, and elegant. Avoid trying to fit in the crowd of people who claim to care less about their style yet have too many opinions about other women’s style

Avoid male friends at all cost, you will have male colleagues, male bosses, male acquaintances, business partners. Keep it that way. You do not want a Truman Capote divulging your secrets to the world. Do not keep a man who does not fit your standard.

You do not have to win at every game. Pick and choose what is best for you and leave room for others. And step down if you have attained that level of success, do not let the society do it for you.

Trust people but remember that we are all humans. So trust with discretion!

Confuse people with kindness; people are not always comfortable with beautiful and intelligent women. That power is too intimidating so confuse them by being genuinely generous, curious, kind, and passionate.

Keep your strong opinions to yourself.. if you support a movement, a way of life, do so silently.

We all have dirty laundry, wash them privately, don’t expose yourself. Remain silent when people try to attack you or shame you. Whatever is not confirmed is not true. You are the only one who knows all the truth about you.

Don’t attract pity or praise: People who pity you do not help you, in fact they might think that you are weak and could mock you at their annual gossipping meeting. And if you are doing things for the sake of praise you are wasting your time.

Choose yourself all the time; never put any one’s feelings above yours.

Trust your own intuition if you feel someone is being malicious towards you, giving you back handed compliments then you should let them go

Never speak bad of another woman. Do not lazy around gossipping. Keep your hands clean and your conscience clear.

Avoid women with low self esteem they will bring you down. For some reason they do not like seeing other women who are doing better than them

Be careful who you seek validation from. Not everyone needs to be pleased. If they are in no way capable of contributing to your life in the ways you prefer, then don’t ask them for their opinions or please them.

Do not compete with other women, if you do you are only putting them on a pedestal. You are making the the standard by which you measure your progress. If you do compete, begin digging your grave.

Do not give unsolicited advice, do not share the inner workings of your mind, If your mouth is very charitable you better start journaling.

Be well-rounded and interesting. It attracts people. It also keeps you busy because you are continually improving and learning. An idle mind is an easily subdued one.

Avoid women who want to live vicariously through you; they want to know who you know, shop where you shop, befriend who you befriend, wear what you wear.

Pay attention to the source of your discomfort; get rid of them. You tell them your dreams and they remind you of all your hindrances. They ask why are you dressed so fancy as though fancy isn’t subjective. They undermine you interests and goals. They will also be quick to bring you down because they are afraid of your potential.

Do not fear power or please power. When we see powerful people we try to hard to befriend them, to be close to them but you need to be comfortable without them. Don’t push yourself in the name of friendship, do not try too hard to be in their inner circle. Your independence of mind is the most important. Instead become a powerful woman, aloof to the presence of power but aware of its importance. Be an ingenious and intelligent and use your creativity to uplift yourself. When you do so it will be hard to ignore you. Even the powerful will become an ally.

Enjoy moments of solitude. Use that time to develop yourself, improve your body, learn new skills, create with your mind, read widely, become more elegant, then launch yourself.

Remember the most powerful women are the most intelligent. Inspired by Robert Greene's 48 Laws of Power. Use at your discretion.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 1st. theodore — size kink, big dick.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | 2024.

summary: there’s a rumour going around that theodore nott has a big dick…..why not see it for yourself?

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, hogwarts uni (obviously), big dick!theo, size difference, size kink ofc, fingering, PIV, dirty talk, slowish sex, put on your fantasy cap for this one bc it’s a little wild, also, anyone know any wheelchair providers?

How the hell did you end up here? How had a night meant for celebration, for laughter and drinks and the triumph of a Quidditch victory, lead to this—

Fevered kisses, teeth clashing—your breath catching in the dim, muted glow of Theodore Nott's dorm—spine pressed against his door as his lips attacked yours, moving to your neck with a hunger that had your knees weak. There was a party, still alive somewhere down the hall, warmth spilling into the corridors, the echo of cheers and laughter floating past—but it was all a distant memory now. All of it blurred, lost in the way Theo's hands roamed over your hips, tugging you closer like he was starved.

Oh, right—the rumours.

Rumours have always had a way of creeping into places they don't belong. A whisper here, a careless word there. Stupid little fires, barely a spark until someone fans the flames. You've seen it before—how a single rumour can grow, how it can warp a simple night into something bigger. Something chaotic.

And now, well, you're living it.

Curiosity was what pulled you into his orbit tonight, what sparked the embers that had been burning between you two for far too long. Because Pansy Parkinson—loud, exaggerative, and far-too-tipsy—couldn't resist spilling some gossip mid-party, something about Daphne, something about Theodore and nine goddamn inches.

You know, the usual Quidditch post-match talk.

And it should have been nothing. It should have got lost in all the other Slytherin boy ramblings but instead, it stuck. Gods, it fucking stuck. Pansy's little comment sparked the fire in you, a fire that led to a conversation over drinks, your hand grazing his, and before you knew it, you were leaning into Theodore Nott at the punch bowl, asking questions you had no blasted right asking, yet went ahead and did anyways.

Something about...well—

"You've heard, then," he'd replied, voice low as those blue eyes watched you over the rim of his glass.

It wasn't a question. It was a challenge. For all the audacity you had—Theodore had just as much.

"I have," you leaned closer, your voice almost teasing as you whispered against the curve of his ear. "Big rumours, Teddy...huge, even."

He tensed, just slightly, the kind of reaction you noticed only because you were watching him so closely. You're pretty sure he wasn't expecting something like that to come out of your mouth—and you couldn't blame him, because truthfully, you weren't expecting it either.

That was, what you'd like to call, the point of no return.

There was a response from him. Something cocky enough—something like; "and do you make a habit of believing everything you hear?"

"Not everything," you said with a shrug, though your heart was in your fucking throat. "But I'm open to proof."

There weren't very many words exchanged after that—maybe some slight teasing—maybe another brush of his hand—but Theo was never a man to waste time, and it was clear that whatever curiosity you held for him had bubbled up now—heady and bold—and created a mess between you that couldn’t be contained.

The party, the victory, the cheers—it all became static as his hand slipped around your waist, his lips at your ear in a whisper. "Then let's put these rumours to rest."

You barely had the chance to nod before Theodore moved—grabbing your wrist and moving you through the crowd like you were something to be expedited, the sea of students parting before him. Pansy spotted you leaving, her eyes gleaming as she threw you a wicked smile and a drunken thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, smirking back, but everything else blurred into the background as Theodore led you out of the common room, and before you knew it, you were inside his dorm.

The door slammed shut behind you, the cold surface meeting your back before his lips found yours—urgent, consuming. His hands moved with purpose, sliding under your shirt, lifting it over your head before you even realized what was happening. His own shirt followed, discarded carelessly onto the floor as he pressed his body against yours.

The memory blurred as the urgency of the present took over. You gasped at the feel of him, his entirety—hard, aching, massive. The outline of him was impossible to ignore, the mere suggestion of what was to come already making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

The rumours had seemed absurd at first, but now...now, they felt terrifyingly real. He was huge.

"Tell me," he breathed, his voice a low rumble against your lips as his fingers worked deftly at removing your skirt. "About those rumours..."

Your head fell back against the door, exposing the line of your throat as his mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Whimpering, you caressed his shoulders, up his neck, finding his hair, fingers teasing the warm, hidden shell of his ears. At this, his back crested, and he moaned, pitching forward, hips working to fuse you with the door.

"I—I heard..." you tried to speak, but his mouth was on your neck, and the words tangled in your throat. "Gods—something about...nine inches..."

Theo hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, sending blood pooling low. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his lips hovering over yours, his breath hot and heavy as he wrapped his hands around your thighs and lifted you up—carrying you toward his bed.

"What else." He muttered against your mouth.

"Daphne..." you panted, barely able to think straight with the way he was touching you, the way he was looking at you. "She...she said she couldn't take it all..."

"And if I say that's true?" He rasped, laying you down onto his comforter. "What then?"

A shiver shook you from the base of your spine, and you curled your legs around him, core clenching hard—he sprawled over you, his body massive—engulfing yours, roving his hands up and down your bare thighs as his lips left wet, warm kisses across your breasts, teeth digging into the sheer fabric of your bra—you were gasping, whimpering under him, your chest rising and falling so rapidly you'd think you'd ran a marathon.

"Gods—that's...an odd question, Teddy..." your hips bucked, seeking his touch, and he grazed your pussy over your underwear, thumb ghosting your clit through the fabric. You squeaked, and he silenced you with his mouth, tugging at the fabric until he'd fit his thick fingers under the hem. "Are you...mm..asking if I can handle it?"

"Fucking soaked already," Theo peeled away, gasping, watching you as he slid a digit through your hot slit, his breath hitching. "Yes—I'm asking if you can handle it."

"Fuck—I don't—I don't know..." he dragged a slickened finger over your clit—you quivered, biting your lip until you found your words. "Only one way to find out."

"You're right," he breathed, swirling his finger, your body pulsing underneath him—every nerve within you roaring to life. "I'll be easy on you...I'll go slow..." his thumb took over, his middle and fourth finger teasing your entrance, lips hovering over your ear. "Let's stretch you out first."

"I—" you began, and he plunged into you. "—fuck."

Theo crooked his fingers in your cunt, eyes focused on your flushing face, the flow of your moans, his breath shallow as you clenched and pulsed around him. His thumb traced rapid little lines around your swollen clit, two long fingers filling you full. He wet his lips, pressing his mouth to yours in a brief kiss as he snapped his wrist, curling and scissoring inside of you. His hips rocked with his rhythm, and you caught sight of his erection straining against his jeans—

"Tight little thing," he growled, head dipping low as he watched his fingers disappear inside your dripping cunt. "I might fucking break you."

He jutted his erection against your thigh and you moaned, clenching around him. "Mm—Theo—"

His eyes followed yours toward his crotch—you couldn't help yourself, your fingers burned to feel him—to stroke him—to feel the weight of him in your hand. He nodded, and amidst your gasps and moans you reached for him, grasping at his zipper and undoing the button, tugging his jeans and boxers down his thighs—

Theo groaned and your mouth watered. Those rumours—Gods, those fucking rumours—

"Fucking hell—" you breathed, wrapping your fingers around his thick, heavy cock—he choked, digits pumping you deep—your thighs shook, your pulse in your throat. You tightened your fist and stroked him, watching him from half-lidded eyes. "Theo—holy fuck.."

His lungs sputtered. "That enough proof for you, Bella?"

You nodded and he throbbed—twitched under your grip, blood biting his cheeks when you coated his head with the bead of his pre-cum, his breath uneven, tattered from the weight of lust—but so was yours.

You moaned. "Oh—Gods—I'm—"

Theo circled your stiff nub, pumping his fingers into your pussy, and pleasure wracked you, pouring into your pulse, your orgasm charging toward you at light speed—his lips found yours, softly, muffling your moans.

"You're close, I can feel it..." he muttered against your mouth, fingers dragging at your walls, groaning as you clenched—as your free hand gripped his hair harder. "Cum on my fingers, Bella, go on..."

You shuddered and snapped—pleasure pulsating from your core and through your limbs, your orgasm lighting up your spine. In its intensity, you bit at his bottom lip while your cunt clamped down around his fingers, a feral energy coursing—the need for more—the need for every goddamn thing he was willing to give you eating away at your sanity—all coherent thought gone, only dissipating further as Theo pulled his fingers from your soaked cunt and sucked them clean with a growl.

"As fucking delicious as I'd imagined," he cooed, drifting his other hand up your thigh, fingers kneading the trembling flesh. You swallowed, lungs still working to find their rhythm. "I don't think you have any idea how long l've wanted this...any idea what you do to me..."

Gods—you almost wanted to laugh—this felt like a fever dream. You'd been friends for years, the fact it took this to get you both here was astonishing. His blue eyes peered down at you—wide and waiting.

"Look at you," you muttered, eyes dipping down to his throbbing dick, still twitching insistently in your hand. "I think I know exactly what I do to you."

Theo snuffed a groan in his throat, but his cock twitched again, despite himself—there was no preventing that.

"Cocky as ever," he whispered, lips curling in a teasing grin. "But now's not the time, principessa..."

"I can handle you," you breathed out, though a tremor in your voice hinted at the uncertainty you felt.

"We'll see." He said. "Lay on your side."

With a flush creeping up your neck, you complied, turning to face the window. The moonlight filtered through the glass, casting a silver sheen over the rippling surface of the Black Lake. Theo moved behind you, his body flush against yours, the slickness of sweat making your skin cling together—one arm slipped beneath your head, cradling it, while the other slid under your thigh, lifting it with a deliberate, practiced motion.

His dick slid against you, the girth daunting enough if not for the sheer fucking length of it—his body was massive behind yours, dwarfing you, a solid wall of heat at your back. You'd never felt so small, so fragile in a way that screamed breakable.

Theo teased your slit, covering himself in your juices—

"Just the tip, yeah?" He whispered, and fuck—you almost moaned. His voice was ruined. "For now."

"Theo—I—I think I can handle it..." you were trying to convince yourself as much as him. You wanted him to enjoy himself, too. "Just…fuck me, please.."

"Merlin help you..." Theo groaned and it almost sounded pitying—dragging the swollen head of his cock against your clit before dipping lower, pressing against the folds of your greedy cunt— "you don't know what you're saying..."

His arm under your head curled inward, wrapping around your neck and holding you in place against him—his other hand guiding his length to your entrance and pressing in—shushing you softly as the first inch breached you and you cried out—as your mind blanked.

"Theo—" you gasped through the chokehold he had you in, his free hand holding your thigh up as it trembled. "That's—you're—fuck—"

He pulled out and rocked along you again, testing you, offering you centimeters of his length at time. Gooseflesh flooded you.

His lips pressed against your ear. "Shhh, you said you could handle me, yeah?"

His hand on your thigh shifted lower, resting on the crease. He rutted against you a few more times, dragging this out for everything it was worth until he brought the tip back to your entrance and pushed in—slowly, inexorably—spearing you open, splitting your cunt and prying you wide in a way that rid your breath.

You whimpered, hand scrambling for purchase on his hip behind you. "Ohhh—h-holy fuck.."

"Fucking hell...you're tight..." his arm around your neck tightened, holding you against him and he pressed in deeper. "That's barely half..."

You fought for air and found absolutely none, every muscle in your body tensing, your limbs trembling, your mind fizzing with staticky pleasure. You felt as though you could break in two.

"Fuck," he drew out again, and pressed back in. "You can barely take it."

He was right. You could barely fucking take it. A revelation that you weren’t surprised by—but that made all the blood in your body pool low, walls fluttering around him in protest.

"Gods, Theo—T-theo—" you grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin, eyes squeezed shut. "Wait—"

"Little more...you're doing so good, Bella..." he was cooing now, pressing kisses to your cheek. "I'll make it fit...we'll make it fit, won't we?"

You couldn't find a fucking modicum of sense to articulate a response. All you could do was feel—take and feel—the way he slid out, only to drive into you again, slowly, with a hiss of air through his teeth—drawing out loud, shameless groans from your chest.

"Mmm—breathe, Bella..." it was soft, soothing, like he was trying to coax you open with words. "Relax for me, yeah? Let me in...let me in..."

You obeyed without even thinking, pulling in shaky breaths, forcing your body to comply, even as your muscles screamed to stay tense—to fight the overwhelming fullness of him. You felt as though he couldn't possibly get deeper, but then he did, and he continued to until he bottomed out—his cockhead kissing your cervix, forcing a sound out of your chest that was more a sob than a moan.

Your eyes were shut so tight. "That's—"

"All of me," he interrupted, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. He rolled his hips, grinding against you, barely pulling out before pushing back in, and your whole body clenched in response. "Does it hurt?"

Every movement proved indefinitely that he was as long as he was thick—your core stretching to accommodate him. You felt him in places you'd never felt before—moulding and carving you out just for him, digging out new space inside you that only he could occupy.

"A little—“ the words were a whimper, and your walls tightened around him instinctively, fighting to adjust, to accommodate the impossible size of him. “Gods—“

"Then why are you making it worse?" He hissed through his teeth, strain bleeding into his tone. You could hear the shift—wrecked, ruined, like he was barely holding onto himself. "Fuck, you're squeezing me...too tight...relax.."

He pulled out and thrust back in, harder this time, sucking in air through his teeth as he worked you wider with each plunge into your soaked cunt. Your body rebelled, clenching down around him again, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through you, his hips snapping against yours in response.

"That's not going to make it easier, you know." His voice was a tight growl, but there was a grin in it, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. "Keep that up and I'm going to leave you sore all day."

The thought made you clench again, your body betraying you as a broken apology fell from your lips—pain giving way to pleasure. "I'm—ohh—sorry-"

"Oh, you're going to be sorry." His pace quickened and you were seeing stars—bright and flashing and blurring your vision. "When you're spending all day in bed tomorrow...recovering..."

It only took seconds before he was grunting behind you—lost in your tight heat as he held you against him, hooking your thigh up toward your chest as his arm tightened around your neck, cock ramming your cunt—colliding with your cervix, pushing screams from your lungs. You couldn't think—couldn't catch your breath as he drove into you over and over.

"Fuck—so good…so fucking wet..." Theo moaned, the sound of his cock slippery and lewd, broadcasting evidence of your arousal. Face on fire, you tossed your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes, chewing your lip, rocking with the force of his strokes. “You like that—being filled like this...greedy little thing..."

You whinged; he was boring into your stomach, delight gushing through your veins. You had never been with a man this endowed, and this fucking ruthless. It made you throb, set you aflame, whirled your brain with desire. Words eluded you.

"Ohh—yes,” you choked out between moans. "Gods—you're huge—"

"I am," he groaned in your ear, the hand on your thigh shifting to your belly, palm pressing against your pelvis—he eased his pace, offering you deep, slow strokes, letting you spasm around every goddamn inch. "That's how deep I'm in you."

At that, you moaned, shamelessly. Cocky bastard he was. You knew now that he was more than entitled to it.

"Can...fuck—can I cum in you?" His fingers slipped to your clit, slowly swirling over it—you didn't even have a second to process that question before the pleasure wracked you so hard you cried out, and he growled. "Fuck—let me cum in you...in this pretty little cunt.."

Somewhere in the blur, you registered his words—low, rough, pulling at the frayed edges of your sanity. Contraceptives. You were on them. It was the last rational thought you had left, buried deep under layers of heat and want. You knew you were fine, but the way he asked, in that voice—Gods—

His fingers increased their pace and you wailed. "Theo—holy f-fuck—yes—yes please!"

Lightning euphoria ripped up your spine with a shameless shriek, your climax shattering you. Your cunt throbbed and milked his dick, your thighs twitching, and your back reached for the wall but his arm around you kept you in place, pleasure possessing your nerves. It seemed an eternity—he was still fucking you through it, breaking you deep, and then he shattered too—breath washing over the back of your neck, chest heaving and lungs sputtering as he spilled his release into you, deep and sticky and hot.

You were still floating between realms of sensation and reality—your mind struggling to tether itself back to consciousness when Theo finally pulled out, releasing you. Both of you were heaving, chests rising and falling in tandem, your bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction.

A moment passed, your breaths slowly steadying, when you felt his arm snake around your waist, pulling you effortlessly against his chest. You shot him a weak, lopsided smile over your shoulder, still catching your breath.

"You okay?" He murmured, his voice a quiet hum in the afterglow.

"More than," you nodded, though your body still hummed with the remnants of pleasure. A hollow ache replaced where he'd been, leaving you startlingly aware of how empty you felt without him. "That was...you are...

"I know," he purred, lips grazing the sensitive spot behind your ear, the smirk practically carved into his breath. You could feel his smugness radiating off him, a tangible thing. "Hope your curiosity was sated."

You let out a breathy laugh, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. "That, among other things."

"Good," he whispered, "I went easy on you."

You huffed, a slow smile creeping across your face. "Is that so?"

"Extremely so," he murmured, fingers tracing lazy circles over your hip. "Took all the willpower I had."

"Sure," you teased. "You're just saying that because I took you so well."

He chuckled, low and sinful, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your spine.

"Oh, she's cocky," he drawled, lips brushing your shoulder. "We'll see about that after I put you in ten different positions."

Your heart stuttered, your muscles tensing at the sheer boldness of the statement. Heat pooled in your belly once more, that insatiable curiosity sparking again. You knew this night was far from over.

Perhaps a little more proof wouldn’t hurt...

You turned your head just slightly, voice breathy but wanting. "Please do."

[pomefioredove]

can I request house wardens + leech twins with a reader who doesn't eat enough bc Crowley doesn't give them enough for food, and they end up really ill and collapsing or something. I'm cravin some fluffy comfort rn, pls and thank you 🙏

I got you🫡🫡 as someone who's been through an eerily similar situation, I really liked this request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ another crowley moment™️

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jade, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, mentions of food and not eating

Riddle wouldn't even have to like you to rush to your side. but he does like you, which makes it all the worse

after checking your vitals, you're in the infirmary. he's got doctors for parents, after all, and he knows that malnutrition is bad

he should have seen the signs...

with exams coming, he's been so busy, and he assumed that you were just tired from studying

but he can feel guilty later. right now, he needs to focus on you getting well again, and not killing Crowley

(then, of course, he'll look for some legal statute or clause that he can threaten Crowley with so you're fed properly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona noticed you'd been acting a little weird lately, but watching you collapse still puts him in shock

luckily, Ruggie and Jack are nearby to help you to the infirmary, so Leona can focus on hunting Crowley down like an animal

there are very few times where Leona is particularly grateful for his status, but this is one of them. just one word on how his family will be hearing about Crowley's neglect, and the old bastard is begging him for forgiveness

even after that, Leona still sends Ruggie with snacks and drinks to Ramshackle

and if you ever scare him like that again, you'll regret it (lovingly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the news of you collapsing during flight lessons reaches Octavinelle rather fast. no one is particularly surprised, since Floyd had mentioned how easily you'd been bruising lately just the night before, but everyone is certainly worried

Azul is the first at your side, asking you all sorts of questions, worried sick. Jade has to remind him to give you space to rest, since you look exhausted (had you always had those dark circles? how could Azul have not noticed?)

now, Azul and the tweels could easily find a way to pressure Crowley, but they know better than to trust him

from now on, you'll be eating in the Mostro Lounge, free of charge

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

perhaps Kalim was just oblivious, because he really didn't think anything was wrong until you were suddenly on the floor in front of him

sure, you'd been a little moody lately, but he figured it was just a thing you were going through. and besides, you know that you can talk to him about anything... right?

Jamil hurries to check your pulse, and shouts for him to get the school nurse- which is jarring, because Jamil never shouts

when you explain everything to Kalim later, he feels... terrible. he should've known- no, he should've asked

Kalim insists you stay at Scarabia while you're recovering, and makes sure you have the most enriching, delicious meals money can buy

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil knew it was bad, but not this bad. if he had known you were on the verge of collapsing, he would've taken a firmer approach to getting you to eat

you're going to worry him to death someday, you know that?

after he's done verbally eviscerating Crowley, he'll insist on joining you at every meal. he'll eat at Ramshackle, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if that's what it takes

he's subtle about it, at least

if he notices that your plate feels empty, he'll just take some food from his and put it on yours. gracefully, elegantly, without a word

you'll come home one day to see your kitchen stocked with vitamins, supplements, and apples (courtesy of Epel)

<3 and a note that says he'll treat you to dinner whenever you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

never scare Idia like that ever again. he wasn't even with you when you collapsed, and he STILL nearly had a heart attack

listen, he knows he's not a great role model when it comes to nutritional eating, but you have got to tell him these things. he would've had Ortho go get takeout! or something!

typical Crowley behavior, SMH. what does he think you are? a rabbit? even the school horses get treated better...

no way that Idia is going to even bother with that old fart, anyway. you want something? he'll get it for you. you don't even have to ask, he'll just send food to your place (and have Ortho check your vitals more often but shhh)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I would not want to be in the room when Malleus finds out about this

not even the building. you know what? I'd steer clear of the whole island, because it will not be pretty

when you collapse in front of him, it feels like he's dying, too. the panic sets in, and he sends Lilia to look after you, and Silver and Sebek to escort you to the infirmary, and then he casually threatens to smite Crowley. obviously

if the students and staff of NRC thought Malleus was scary just being Malleus, he's terrifying when he's mad

(rest assured that you will be getting ten times the amount of food from now on)

it's thunderstorms for days after, but he never leaves your side