#but we are going to write all the steps and stuff

[vanessa7267]

I’m so sick of the pro shippers

WHY is there so much incest in every fandom I step my foot in? Especially the Rick and Morty fandom omg. Like wdym I want to look up cute fan art or Rick and his VERY MUCH UNDERAGE GRANDCHILD, cause yk why not it’s cute? And I get incest stuff (this doesn’t only go for this fandom). And don’t talk about how everyone is free to ship whatever and all of those things… like c’mon. It’s not even just incest one of the 2 is like 14? One thing is for you to be underage and read fan fiction of someone way older, or just an adult. But that’s WAY different from an adult writing fan fiction and fantasizing about an adult and his minor grandchild fucking. Do I think these people should be burned at the stake (or harassed)? No, that’s wrong and technically they haven’t done that stuff irl. HOWEVER we so need to tell them hey, this is not cool please don’t do this tf? Instead of being told “w-w-well… it is wrong but I accept you anyways” NO GET OUT. Idc if it’s fictional it’s still wrong? And it’s a type of wrong very different from someone writing a fan fiction that involves stealing or killing or stuff like that yk? Those are completely different things, stealing is way less harmful and killing is so not as common or doable if yk what I mean plus it’s usually set in a fantasy world like game of thrones where it would make sense or just slasher stuff, not like incest and grooming which is thing much more “doable” yk? Just step foot in the internet and post yourself as a minor and see how many’s pedos will get into your dm’s. A LOT. So yeah no one will read this and it’s very random but whatever.

[lush-escape]

The Vigilante's Guide to Grief

wc: 1.6k a/n: I listened to the kpop demon hunters soundtrack while writing this. Soda Pop has me in it's CLUTCHES. Bruce is a softie in this chapter bc me and my daddy issues say so. Also Christy? She's my irl therapist and we LOVE her here okay? prev: denial next: bargaining

Stage three: Anger

Jason sat on the couch, his worn journal in his hands. Despite only being written in a few times he continuously toyed with the edges of the paper - fraying them. He stares out the window, his mind a jumbled mess. He just got off the phone with Bruce and now he was in a worse mood than when he had woken up.

hi I miss you

it's the 17th. B just called. Wish you could've been here to hear it. Think he was guilt tripping me. Told me it's been almost a month since I've been to the manor. What does it even matter?

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

I can't. Feels like it gets harder every time I go over there. Yeah it's been a few months since

Between the call with Bruce and remembering your death, your funeral, the tombstone Bruce had placed for you in the family cemetery on the manor grounds Jason was at the end of his rope for the day. 

“Fuck!” 

It's loud, angry. Something that would have made you jump - he hates himself for it. His notebook flies across the room and smacks against the wall. His pen is broken in half. As he stands from the couch he pushes the coffee table out of the way with his foot, hitting the tv stand knocking over a picture frame.

The sound of broken glass makes Jason stop. It's like his heart is breaking all over again. It hurts. He feels his heart skip a painful beat, he feels his breath catch in his throat.

“Stop it!” You yell at him from the bedroom door.

It had started as such a stupid argument. So many little things during that day that resulted in heightened frustration between the two of you. 

“Don't tell me to stop. I didn't fucking do anything.” Jason snaps at you and you stare at him in disbelief for a split second before your expression turns hurt.

Jason knew he had some anger issues he needed to work on and he hated that he was taking it out on you even if it was subconscious. He hated himself for it.

“You're in here slamming stuff for no reason!” You shoot back when he tells you he hasn't done anything.

“Oh, boo-hoo.” Jason grumbles as he rolls his eyes. He can't stand the way he's treating you but he can't stop it.

“Jesus Christ, I can't have sunshine comin' outta my ass every second of the day for you. Fuck, you're so sensitive sometimes, you know that?”

You stop.

Jason stops.

Your disappointed scowl falters and your lips pull downward into a trembling frown. You've both said worse to each other before, more scathing biting insults. There was just something about this time that hurt.

Jason sees the way your eyes turn glassy with tears and the way you begin to frown. That's all it takes for all of his anger and frustration to completely melt away. He rubs his hand down his face and sighs.

“Baby, I'm sorry-”

You shake your head to stop him. You know that if you try to talk now you'll end up crying.

“No, no, please. Baby,” he takes a step forward and you take one back, making him stop in his tracks. He stares at you like you just burned him. With his mouth parted he watches as you turn and close the bedroom door behind you. It only takes him a second to register what happened.

He doesn't try to open the door knowing that if it was locked he might as well just rip his heart out of his chest and let you physically step on it in front of him. Instead he stands in front of the door with one tentative hand on the handle.

“Baby, please. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean it. I'm sorry for being such an asshole.” He begs for your forgiveness through the door.

You stay silent. You know you need space, he knows you need space but he also has a codependency issue that makes it hard for him to stay away from you.

Jason's not sure if minutes or hours pass by. All he knows is his back hurts and his legs are stiff from sitting on the hardwood floor with his back to the door. Waiting silently for you to come out. Silently listening to you sniffle and cry, dying a little bit more inside knowing he can't do anything to comfort you yet.

But eventually you do. Slowly and quietly you open the door. You sniffle quietly and if you weren't still upset with a headache from crying you would've laughed at how ridiculous Jason looks as he scrambles to his feet.

“Hey,” your voice is hoarse and raspy from your much needed crying session.

“God, baby, I'm so sorry.” Jason whispers. He's on you immediately. Big strong arms wrap you in a warm hug. Jason sighs audibly in relief. He buries his face into the top of your head, eyes closing as he breathes you in. Your nose presses into his chest and you let him hug you, too tired to reciprocate just yet - wanting to soak in his warmth.

He repeats a flurry of “I'm sorry” and “I didn't mean it” against you. You can feel the way his heart thuds in his chest and you can feel your bottom lip tremble again. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“You're perfect. You're not too sensitive. I mean- okay. You are. But it's not a bad thing. I love that about you. I love you. I love you so fucking much, I'm so sorry. Please I'll do anything-” He was panicking because even though you've fought and argued before - as any couple does - he's never made you cry.

“I let my anger get the better of me, I should have never-”

“It's okay…” You interrupt him and turn your head to the side to rest your cheek against him, your ear against his heart. 

“No, it's not.” He kisses the top of your head.

You're quiet again, “Okay.. it's not… but we both weren't being the best. I'm sorry, too.”

“Don't apologize. Ever. You could shoot me and I'd never want you to apologize.”

Jason remembers how downright scared you looked that night when he slammed the kitchen drawer shut. He hates himself all over again. He walks over to the notebook and picks it up.

“Sorry…” he mutters. He's not sure if he's saying it absentmindedly to the notebook, himself, or you. Either way he exhales roughly and sits back on the couch. He looks over his journal entry and slowly gets back to it.

It's been a few months since I've been there. It's harder now with your headstone there. I wasn't at my best when Bruce had it put in. I was angry. You would have hated it. You were never afraid tho just gave me that damn disappointed look. That hurt more than anything. I <u>hated</u> that. I deserved it though I was such an asshole when I was mad

“What the fuck is that?” Jason asks as he stares out the floor to ceiling window. It's such a small thing, your tombstone being added to the family plot. But Jason notices immediately as he walks by, the way the number grew overnight.

“Hm?” Bruce hums as he positions himself near Jason.

“I said, what the fuck is that?” Jason's voice is laced with venom at this point.

Bruce finally inhales and opens his mouth to answer.

“Without my permission?” Jason asks with quiet outrage.

“I didn't know I needed your permission.” Bruce says quietly but firmly.

“Not even a warning?”

“She was part of the family-”

“Oh don't give me that shit!” Jason turns to Bruce with a look that could kill. “You didn't even ask! She didn't want to be buried, didn't want a headstone! That's why I put her in a fucking urn.”

Bruce is silent. Perhaps he was in the wrong on this one, he thought.

“What's it say, huh? Who'd you put her by?” Jason's breathing was ragged. He knew he was overreacting, deep down he knew, but with something so big to memorialize you - it made it all the more real to Jason.

“Al-” Bruce begins to answer but Jason cuts him off. He's crying. It's the first time he's cried in days but there's a small part of him that feels safe, comfortable, doing it in front of Bruce.

“Don't. Fucking don't-” Jason's voice cracks as he pushes Bruce's shoulder. “You shouldn't have-” He points a finger at Bruce. “She didn't fucking want-” Jason's crying now. Fat tears stream down his face, his eyes tired and heavy and red.

“Come here,” is all Bruce says softly, offering an open shoulder to Jason.

He stands defiantly for a second before his resolve finally crumbles. With a shaking sob he pulls Bruce into a bruising hug and cries into his shoulder.

“I'm so sorry,” Bruce murmurs as he hugs his son.

“S’not fair,” Jason cries.

Christy says I'm doing better with managing my anger. I tried so hard for you. To be better. I'm so fucking sorry I didn't do it sooner. Or try harder. I think you would be proud of me. You always said you were but this time I know you would be

Jason wipes at a tear in the corner of his eye. He mumbles a curse under his breath and grabs his phone from his pocket. He can feel his emotions beginning to overwhelm him, he sees the warning signs now and knows how to cope. 

Maybe therapy isn't as stupid as he thought, he thinks.

He sends a text to Dick asking to meet him at the gym.

taglist: @thy-crimson-king @vellichor01 @theendofthematerialgworl @tinasdcstuff @4rachn3 @cecebookworm

[awosofavs]

Sex on the beach

KM11

(no minors please)

- summary: You and Katie come back from a long day of “fun” at the beach, but what happens when you are frustrated with sand in all the wrong places

- word count - 1.6k

- warnings: Oral (reader receiving), Strap (reader wearing)

- A/N: This was INCREDIBLY hard to write. I’m still very new to writing so please lmk if there’s anything I can improve and what yall like and stuff i’m so open to critiques!! :)

It was hot, the sand was everywhere and you were quite honestly frustrated.

"Babe can we go to the pool" Katie said as she smiled at you across from the room. The hotel room was gorgeous, a large bed divided you and Katie and the window spread far across one wall, big enough that you could see the whole of Spain from the windows.

"No Katie we cannot go to the pool" you snapped

"I am covered in sand i'm uncomfortable and I just want a shower and a nap" you didn't mean to snap at her, you loved her more than anything but right now everything was a bit too much.

"Come let's shower together" she said gently, sensing the stress. "I'll get rid of the sand" she smiled. You walked over to the bathroom, her slowly following behind you.

"thank you" you said in a low volume.

"this is what happens when you let me fuck ye on the beach" Katie smirked. You smacked her arm quickly and then pouted.

"Katie this isn't nice, I’m covered head to toe in sand!" she laughed "KATIE I have sand where I should NOT have sand and i am uncomfortable. now are you going to help me or are you going to stand there and laugh at me" she smiled but turned on the shower before stripping herself and then turning to start stripping you.

"God I never get tired of ripping yer clothes off" she smirked. Peeling your slightly wet and sandy bikini off and staring at your boobs.

"this is barely ripping babe you merely took them off" she stepped into the shower before offering her hand to help you enter too.

"is that better grumpy?" she said before squirting body wash onto her hands and lathering it into your skin. you let the sang get washed away as katie's hands caressed your body, her familiar touch on you made your body alight. she wasn't doing anything sexual but you felt the feeling pooling at your core at her hands on you.

"mm much better" you lean to kiss her neck but as you do she finds her hands nearing closer to your boobs, her favourite thing about you. she grabbed and played with them gently before moving to take one of your nipples in her mouth.

"sex on the beach followed by sex in the shower? jesus christ i married the right woman" she smiled on your boob and then came up to kiss your lips softly.

"you know i love you, i love you more than everything in the entire world" Katie is NEVER soppy so her being so loving was something you'd cherish whilst waiting for the next insult to arrive. this time though it didn't.

"mmm i love when you fuck me too" you said grabbing her hand and pulling it towards where you needed her the most. you felt your cunt get wetter and wetter the more you two waited and you needed her, NOW.

"eager are we?" she cupped your pussy but didn't move her hands. You nodded before trying to move your hips, desperate for any friction.

She finally gave in to what you needed and moved her fingers gently, making small circles around your clit. "mm mhm that's yeah that's what i need" you moaned feeling her, needing her. She kissed your neck whilst still working magic with her fingers. You’re embarassingly close even though she’s barely touched you, that’s what ovulation does aparently.

She slowly made her way down to your boobs, sucking on each nipple slowly before drawing circles with her tongue over the senitive buds.

“fuck Katie please.. don’t.. stop” you barely made out, pleasure flooding your veins making it impossible to do even the basic tasks. She worked her way down your body before moving her fingers off of your clit. You moan in displeasure, whimpering, begging for her touch. She sensed your need and slowly pushed her fingers into your tight cunt.

“God you take my fingers so fucking well baby” she smirked before placing her mouth onto your clit, making circles with her tongue and sucking gently from time to time. By this point you’re a moaning mess. Katie breathed hard against your clit, your moans and the noises of her fingers in your wet pussy becoming too much for her. “Youre so fucking hot” she whispered, air hot against your clit. You noticed her other hand slipped lower towards her own hole, delicately touching where she was touching you just minutes prior. The sight alone is almost enough to bring you to your orgasm.

“fuck katie i’m gonna cum” you moaned, warning her. She smiles against you.

“cum for me love, cum all over my fucking face.” and with that she licked you in all ways you’d dreamed of, fast, slow, meaningful. You came right there on her face, body rising and falling as breaths came in fast before slowing to a normal pace. She slows her fingers letting you ride out your high before fully slipping them out of you.

“Fuck.. thank you..” you managed to make out. She started to stand back up so that you are face to face, lust and love in her eyes.

“you look gorgeous when you cum for me” need still lingering in her face. you pushed her back against the wall slightly before slipping your thigh between her legs, kissing her softly, tasting yourself on her tongue. She slowly moved her hips up and down on your thigh, spreading her juices all over you.

“god you’re fucking soaked babe, all this for me?”

“of fucking course, you drive me crazy” you kissed her neck, slowly to start with, biting gently every now and again. She moaned softly before moving her hips even faster against you, chasing her own high.

“do you need my help?” you smirked, looking at how much of a mess she’s making on your thighs. She nodded desperately. It wasn’t often you saw Katie in this way, submissive and desperate, but when you did it drove you crazy. You immidietly turned the tap off before hopping out the shower.

“What the fuck?!?” she whined, still needy. still wanting you.

“come here idiot get yourself dry” you smiled before grabbing a towel and heading to the bedroom, leaving her there in the shower confused. You walked into your room and headed to the suitcase where you kept the strap. usually katie was the one wearing it but you just went crazy for how her body looks whilst you pound into her. You slipped the harness on and attached the pretty pink dick on the end.

Katie walked out of the bathroom confused, that confusion turned into even more confusion when she saw the strap. “You sure you want to?” she walked over to the bed unsure, she wasn’t usually eager to give over dominance to you but tonight something different was in the air.

“Yes i’m sure, i need to see my dick pounding into you, i need it” With that she sat on the bed waiting patiently for tou. You walked over to her and kissed her gently before making it more and more passionate. You moved up the bed so that she was resting on the pillows and grabbed the lube off the side. “You’re pretty wet but just so it doesn’t hurt, i know you aren’t used to this” you smiled, you liked seeing her laid so pathetic infront of you. desperate for your cock.

you slid your hand covered in lube all over the dick before leaning over her to give her one last kiss. “Tell me if it’s too much please” you said, worried.

“i will don’t worry love” she grabbed you then kissed you, showing she needed it. You slowly slid it inside of her, drawing small circles on her clit whilst doing so, so that it didn’t hurt too badly. Once she had gotten used to the size you started to slide in and out of her. Slowly to start with, passionate and sensual. But before long you found yourself pounding into her, getting carried away with the power.

She let out pornographic moans as you go and the sounds of the strap hitting her cunt are to die for. You kept your hand on her clit circling but you felt your own clit sensitive and needy from the strap hitting all the right places. You’re moans mixed together in a sweet symphony.

“i’m gonna, gonna” she barely gets it out before she comes undone all over your cock.

“please let me keep going” you said still pounding into her “i’m s-so close” you blushed.

“fuck do it” she said, sensitive but always wanting to give you your orgasm. You pounded into her a few times before cumming right there and then falling onto her body, strap still inside. comfortable and together. You knew that you should’ve done something, cleaned her up and yourself but you were so comfortable that you ended up falling asleep right there ontop of her, strap still inside.

Unfortunately in Katie’s case she also fell asleep. Your alarm went off at 7:30 and you both awoke before realising the mistake of last night.

“fuck i’m so sorry” you panicked wondering how to get yourself out of this mess. Katie’s cunt now dryer than before and seeming uncomfortable with a dry dick inside.

“ouch” she wiggled trying to get off without pain. “god this isn’t ideal is it” she said.

“atleast i’m trapped inside my favourite pussy”

“hey we aren’t trapped it’s just gonna hurt a little bit that’s all” she slowly wiggled free, wincing a bit but trying to act like she’s okay. She helps you out of the harness before taking you in her strong arms.

“i loved last night, thank you” she smiled.

“i loved it so much, i love you” you smiled and for a little while you were in her arms in paradise.

[moonlight-ba3]

Hiii can you write about being in a bad relationship and you just got broken up with and you and Macklin have been friends forever and he sees you crying and having a panic attack and he comforts you and you guys end up realizing that you two have always been in love?

Warm 

pairing:macklin celebrini x reader

summary:when you finally get out of your toxic relationship and find a better one.

a/n: fluff, angst, I tried to make this based on the songs almost is never enough and warm by ariana grande, I came up with a random game against the Blackhawks, not proofread!!

I met Jake in freshman year of high school in English class. We started dating when he asked me out for prom in sophomore year. We were great until I introduced him to Macklin, my best friend. 

He always rolled his eyes when I brung Mack up. He hated him so much he convinced me to not invite him to my 18th birthday party. 

I never realized how controlling he was of me. Finally, I brung it up and somehow all we managed to argue about was Macklin.

I just got back from work after 7 hours of staring at a screen. My eye bags are huge, I can barely walk my limbs are so tired. All I wanna do is lay down and not have to argue with my boyfriend.

‘’You look miserable’’ Is the first thing I hear when I walk in.

‘’Jake, I’m exhausted’’ I mumble, putting my stuff up, not wanting to cause anything that would probably just be fight about Macklin somehow.

He rolls his eyes, ‘’God, you’re always exhausted’’ he replies still looking at his phone, most likely looking through some girls instagram.

I take a deep breath trying to calm myself down, but he keeps talking. I finally loose it, ‘’Jake I go to work for 7 hours and all you do is sit on your ass for the whole day! I come home exhausted cause I actually do things. I don’t wanna fight tonight. I’m exhausted’’ I yell at him, my voice slightly cracking. 

‘’Thats all you say, I do things all the time but your to busy talking to your other little boy toy!’’ He yelled back

I look at him, confused. ‘’Who the hell are you talking about?’’ 

He sighs, ‘’The shitty hockey player!’’

Macklin.

The boy I’ve known since I was 5. Who would always come to me no matter what. The only hockey player I would stand up for when they scored. The guy I always tried to convince myself I wasn’t in love with. The Macklin who I did everything with. 

‘’What do you mean?’’ I ask him, unclear on why he would bring him up right now, especially since I haven’t seen him in four weeks. The last time I saw him was at his game against the Blackhawks. All I could look at was him. He scored one goal and had two assists. 

He steps closer to me. ‘’You think I don’t know. I know you’ve been sneaking around and seeing him.’’ He says in a quiet voice. 

‘’I-what?’’ 

‘’Oh my god, you’re so stupid.’’ He laughs 

I stand there, still confused, ‘’Why would you think I’m with him?’’

‘’You’re always talking about him! Macklin this, Macklin that! You never stop. I feel like a side character!’’ 

‘’A side character! I involve you in everything, even things that don’t even concern you.’’ Shocked that he would even say that. 

‘’Even then you still find a way to bring him up! Mack loves this! Me and Mack used to do this together!’’

‘’Iv’e been best friends with him since I was five!’’ I yell back at him.

He closes his eyes, rubbing his hands on his face. 

‘’You’re the most stupidest, self centered person I’ve ever met!’’ 

‘’You always accuse me of the most stupidest shit!’’ 

He looks at me like I have 5 eyeballs.

My eyes are starting to get glossy.

‘’I’m so over you, why don’t you go cry to him about this.’’ He says as he walks out the door. 

I don’t stop him. I can’t. Tears are falling down my face. My hands are shaking. My shaky hand raises to my heart as I start gasping for air. I feel like I’m underwater. The room is caving in on me. All I’m able to do is get my phone out and call him, Macklin.

After the first ring he picks up. 

‘’Hey, y/n’’ His voice calms me down, but not enough.

‘’Mack-I can’t.’’ 

‘’Im coming over. Don’t hang up.’’

He only lives 7 minutes away. I can’t focus on anything. His voice ringing in my ears. All I’m able to make out is ‘’Calm down’’ ‘’breathe’’ ‘’Im here.’’

I hear the door open and he comes running to me. He places me on the couch and kneels on his knee in front of me. 

‘’Look at me.’’ He tells me as he places my hand over his heart. 

I look at his deep green eyes, and finally for what feels like months, Im able to calm down. 

As my breathing evens out, I close my eyes and I feel him pull me in his arms, while he’s still on floor. It feels we were sitting there for hours, when his hand gently pulls my chin to make me look at him again.

My heart rate picks up, I get a giddy feeling that I never got with Jake. 

He places his forehead on mine, still no words exchanged since the call. My hands travel up his toned arms as his stay put on my waist. 

Soon we’re both leaning in. His lips feel soft against mine, the butterflies in my stomach only getting worse. I finally pull away ‘’Mack…’’ Is all I’m able to get out.

‘’I know’’

‘’I got in a fight with Jake, we broke up.’’ I tell him. ‘’Im sorry’’ he sighs.

‘’Don’t be it was toxic anyways.’’ Trying to make humor out of this. 

‘’So, I guess it wasn’t that bad of a thing I kissed you.’’ He says laughing softly.

‘’Never.’’

Finally, in months I feel like I’m breathing and not being held captive.

While we’re still sitting on the floor I tell him ‘’This is cute, but this floor is hurting my butt’’

He laughs, pulling me to stand on my feet as we both sit on the couch. Macklin puts his hand over mine, ‘’I’ll treat you better, I promise.’’ I look at him with a smile ‘’I know you will.’’ 

He pulls me in a hug. It feels real and warm.

It’s warmer in his arms.

[tangents-within-tangents]

Thanks to everyone who's participated, the notes here are fascinating (and by all means, keep them coming)! It's so interesting to see how even the general concept of visualization is much more varied and complicated than I'd initially thought

As for me, it definitely varies and it's hard to peg down since I'm kinda like one step above aphantasia so it's all pretty vague lol

But generally more animation style (though with some mental edits vis-à-vis whitewashing and ages (which I considered making it's own category but I figured most of us do that based on how often we describe 'curly hair' etc)). Which makes sense, as a lot of the characters aren't ever seen in the live-action context, so we work with what we have I guess. Though even if I ~see it in that art style, I don't imagine stuff feeling or moving in that carved woodblock-y way (ex: if someone is running their hands through someone's hair, I picture/feel that as real hair).

But for some fics specifically it will be more live-action/realism, but idk why. And when I write? Honestly I have no idea lol. And for my art, I think if I did see them in my 'mind's eye', then maybe I wouldn't need to draw them. It's the other way around, if that makes sense. Like I gotta put something on paper to do the visual for me (and due to aforementioned aphantasia, it's kind of a struggle to actually capture what I'm going for and it ends up different every time lol)

Something I'm curious about for Clone Wars fic readers and writers

please feel free to elaborate as much as you want

[generalluxun]

I was musing on Chloe's current internet stardom and recalled she had like over 70K followers on in universe social media sites. Which given she mostly just seemed to do selfies, idle commentary and the like is pretty impressive. Especially as she was evidently doing this largely alone, IE, Audrey & Andre sure as hell weren't involved.

Now being Audrey's daughter might have helped some people gravitate towards her, but given Audrey didn't even live in Paris those who stayed, stayed for Chloe. Evidently finding her endearing.

I think if one wants to focus solely in universe it is very easy to assume Audrey either gets bored of "taking control of Chloe's life" of her version of that is basically telling Chloe to become exceptional.

Actually assisting is unlikely given what we have seen of her, at most se might have tossed a credit card at Chloe and told her to make herself useful and or make that "meager" social media following worthwhile, but that's likely as involved she'd get if involved at all!

Assuming not involved or even marginally involved, Chloe's alone and despairing, but also away from constant Akuma attacks, one sided rivalries, and a decent chunk of her personal fucked up dynamics barring Audrey. What's more all she has left is her phone & followers.

With no distractions, no manipulators and nothing else to do, I could see Chloe turning to her social media following hungry for purpose and some kind of connection, no matter ow small and it just kind of... Works!?

Her follow count begins to climb as she puts out more stuff, doing videos, voice overs, little performances. Going well beyond selfies and short text posts and it keeps growing and suddenly she's getting sent for quotes, sponsorships and interviews!

Especially as Adrien steps away from the public eye, for many who followed him as much or more for fashion than Adrien, Chloe was likely already on their radar. So she can swoop in and basically gobble up a huge chunk of his followers as well.

Now she's starting to make films of some sort, organizing contests and events to keep people engaged and its well, working, & that gets Audrey off her back and gives Chloe a sense of success and purpose and generally something to work towards.

Its not necessarily super healthy, but it is productive, animating and largely driven by her own agency. It is far better than despair or self destruction, at least its giving her something.

How that will factor into the stories plot no clue, but I think it can work pretty coherently at the very least.

I had to read this several times to figure out what you wanted before I realized it was just a story pitch. It's very workable if you want to write it. I don't think it'll be anything like canon because it requires too much focus away from Marinette.

[blackwall-my-tiny-husband]

Thursday Bangers 6/12

Wowie I swear we all got bombarded with work and irl stuff all at once! And I’m still playing catch up on things I so badly want to write! I’m still trying to read all of the Harding week things and everyone’s words and bangers so don’t stop tagging me I’ll eventually very happily read them <3

Lyric game started and hosted by @woundedsoul12 this week and thanks @chaosherald and @serensama for the tags

Rules: Free form a blurb or drawing based on the weekly lyrics prompt. It doesn't have to include the prompt just whatever you're inspired to write, write it! Then tag some friends so they can play as well. It doesn't have to be finished on Thursday just post it whenever you can (you have a whole week between Thursdays)

And I'd give up forever to touch you // Cause I know that you feel me somehow // You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be // And I don't wanna go home right now ~ Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

Enjoy a little more of the Modern tech assassins au (I really never know what to call it) but a pre relationship piece! Harding week really had me all up in the still getting to know each other vibes

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Harding had been putting together a sandwich in her tiny postage stamp apartment when she tried to scoot past her couch and rammed her shin into the coffee table. She’d cursed loudly and wondered again why she’d moved to this city. It was huge and bustling and high tech and so so fancy. She’d been excited to live somewhere new after her stint with the military and Antiva City just seemed so interesting. But on her tiny salary she couldn’t afford much and her job prospects seemed bleak at best or too dull to stand. She tossed the plate onto the couch, glaring at the offending table corner and wishing she could kick it out of the way but there just wasn’t room.

Just as she was debating sitting the table up on its side the doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting company and frowned, giving it a moment but then frantic knocking started and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Carefully, she snuck her way to the door and looked into the peephole.

She flung open the door and stood with a hip jutting out, hand on her hip.

“Zalan what are you doing here?” He was one of Varric’s many inside sources and when the journalist had introduced the two she hadn’t been all that impressed by the flirting and easy going charm he’d been sporting. She’d seen him trailing after Varric a while after that and had begrudgingly gotten to know him, he grew on people like a fungus. But for him to be showing up at her door? Unannounced? She wasn’t even sure how he knew her address!

“Hey Harding what’s shaking?” He was sweating and leaning against the doorframe but still trying for a charming smile. She glanced around behind him at the empty hall and frowned. “Hey can I come in? Varric and I were following up on a lead and I need a place to lie low for a minute or two.” She would have happily slammed the door in his face or told him to go wherever Varric had gone normally. But something about the way he was almost shaking and the urgency in his voice with undercurrents of fear made her think twice about shutting him out. And instead, she had a feeling she’d regret this later, pulled the door wider.

“Get in here and tell me what happened.” She said it on a sigh and he quickly shuffled in and closed the door, locking it for her and rushing them both away from the entrance. She pinched his hand on her shoulder and swatted at him, stepping away with a glare.

“Sorry sorry, lying low remember? T-those guys might be looking for me.” He voice seemed strained and he pressed a hand to his side. Which had Harding furrowing her brows and coming closer.

“Zalan de Riva, you tell me what in Andraste’s name is happening. Now.” She was firm and the glare she was giving him wasn’t lessening but he chuckled and smiled at her, leaning against the back of her couch and putting a hand on her shoulder, swaying.

“Have I ever told you you’re beautiful when you’re angry?” He asked, breathing hard. She thought about punching him but only scowled at him instead, “I didn’t know where else to go, my house is on the far side of the city and Varric sent me to check up on a lead- he’s in the hospital you heard? Broken leg- he sent me to check on a thing. A-and I got shot.” He staggered forward and this close now that she was looking for it she could see the dark spot blooming on his dark jacket, and growing. The information took a moment to sink in as she stared and then she burst into action.

She was yelling at him for being an idiot but moving him to the couch, clearing the space and momentarily mourning the loss of her sandwich and plate but refocusing and sitting him down to yank up his shirts.

A neat hole was gushing blood and Harding cursed grabbing a blanket and pressing down on the wound, as she felt around the man’s back she could feel a hole there too which was good. The bullet wasn’t lodged somewhere and she pressed his hands to the blanket,

“Hold this pressure.” It was a command and she ran for her medical supplies. Zalan was doing exactly as she instructed and had managed to wiggle free of his shirt and jacket laying on them and looking pale and green for his efforts.

She muttered idiot which he must have heard because he chuckled. She couldn’t figure him out, he was calm and was actively helping her as she got supplies out and cleaned the wound. Who was this guy that bullet wounds seemed to be just a part of his life?

He was suddenly less than collected as his eyes fluttered and rolled into the back of his head. Harding felt her own heart jump as she rushed to press wet fingers to his pulse. Cursing loudly the scout got into position and started compressions. Luckily for them both he came back quickly and Lace thought she might collapse there but she wasn’t done yet.

With her suture kit in hand Harding looked at Zalan, cringing. She didn’t even have any alcohol to offer him to dull the pain. He noticed her hesitation and flashed a weak grin,

“You can admire my stunning body later Harding, for now sew me up.” He waited a beat and gave a huff, “Don’t worry about me, I have a high pain tolerance.” He assured her and she gulped but braced herself and did as he she said.

//

He hadn’t screamed or flinched away and she had rushed, her sewing only barely passing for good. He was breathing shallowly and laying on her couch and she leaned over him, knee on the edge of the sofa. His eyes were glazed over but he hadn’t passed out yet which was good.

“So? How did I do? Did the Lace Harding save my life?” He asked, words slurring slightly and head nodding back as he struggled to sit halfway up. Lace shook her head at him in dismay, how could he still be like this after everything. Zalan followed her movements with drooping eyes. “No? Oh well if I’m dying at least I’m getting to see you before I go.” He mused, touching the back of her hand and a soft smile.

She couldn’t help the blush that blossomed over her skin at that and she scoffed and shook her head but didn’t shake off his hand.

“You aren’t dying you boob. You just got shot. No big deal right?” She wondered how it was no big deal but he hummed and nodded his agreement and closed his eyes, hand sliding into hers loosely. She didn’t like that he was drifting off but with his hand in hers she could feel his pulse. That was the reason she left it there, or that’s what she told herself as she watched him.

He’d have to answer some questions when he woke up. But for now, for Varric, she’d stay there and watch over him, she’d already saved him she couldn’t let him die on her now.

[cipheramnesia]

Being wrong on the internet in an imperfect world doesn't have a perfect approach, but sometimes things can help.

1. Does it even need a response? Take awhile to think about it. Let your heart rate slow down. Save large amounts of energy by just waiting 30 minutes and figuring out it doesn't matter what you say. Maybe it's not an important topic, maybe you lack knowledge, maybe someone is clearly just angry or having a bad day.

2. Ask if myself if I was wrong, unclear, careless or so on. Shockingly easy to go damn, my bad. I can't control making mistakes 100%, but I can at least offer an apology if it was a full blown error or correct mistakes or whatever. Someone correcting me or getting mad at me doesn't make them a dickhead, and being a dickhead back generally doesn't fix a mistake or make someone less angry. Now there's two angry people. See item one. I can't un-angry someone, I can recognize a fuck up and step away.

3. Was it really malicious or just annoying? Neither person actually needs a response, but damn it really sucks burning someone's house down just because they commented about their favorite annoying pop music start on a ten thousand note post.

4. People be excited. Between different languages, different dialects, slangs, tones, writing styles, etc it's a pretty solid guarantee we will all read innocuous statements as intentionally hurtful. If you must reply, consider it might not be meant as hurtful. Worst case scenario you do something hilarious being sincere and kind to someone who hates you. It's 100% of the time a better response because it enrages the malicious and stops you being too much of an ass.

5. Damn this argument is so long. Yeah. You gotta let them go. I know what they said you said. I know what they said. And what I said. And what you said. Our participation in arguments stops mattering at a certain point. They are gonna keep saying as long as you keep saying, it's okay to just... leave. Just quit. Take the whole mess and cut the They Said and Their Bad Takes out of it. Nothing requires contextualizing your ideas in the framework of people who think everything you say or do is wrong.

It's really subjective and imperfect and stuff but it's like reblogging misinformation, it gets a lot easier if you stop and ask if it's worth the effort of getting stuck into it, and also just making an effort not to tell people they're stupid assholes in the process. It's not even necessary to be especially polite or tiptoe per say, huge leaps can be casually taken by resisting the urge to make up creative insults.

[zephyruswrites536]

Update on golden raven….

(POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK AHEAD)

I might’ve spoiled that Jean and Jeremy don’t confess in this book… BUT THIS HURTS MORE THAN ANDREW AND NEIL…

Like sh.t was going on in raven king, like major stuff, so the drama sidelined (for the most part… we all saw Neil stick Andrew’s hand under his shirt) the romance…

But like all I see I Jean’s PTSD and Jeremy’s impending familial doom as drama in this book… SO I JUST HAVE TO READ THEM BOTH PINE (BUT SPECIFICALLY JEREMY, THE SWEETHEART THAT HE IS) AND NOT DO A THING ABOUT IT, AND I DESPISE THIS SLOWBURN WITH ALL OF MY SOUL.

All this to say that I like how you can see the plot and writing progressively become more solid and better the more books that come out.

Foxhole, if I’m honest, was a bit wishy-washy and confusing. Raven king was an AMAZING set up to King’s men. And king’s men hit all its notes perfectly so that when sunshine starts you go, “Oh that makes sense! That’s really cool! I didn’t know that happened!” And additionally it takes a step back from Kevin, Andrew, and Neil to show another perspective on just how MENACING they all are. When I read Neil’s books I was like “Oh, he’s lighthearted in most things he says… and Kevin is just scared” but then we turn around to see through Jean’s eyes and we get, “Pop. How easily these monsters die in the end.” PARDON-MOI? QOUI? NON… they both are just carbon copies of Andrew’s apathy now and it unnerves me slightly… Neil and Kevin have slightly more “personality” that’s visible through the mask… but who knows.

There’s my thoughts. Just finished chapter seven.

[villiedoom]

I want to write this as an additional post, just to share some more personal stuff ~

It's no secret that I've been obsessed with Rain World lately - in my personal notes I already wrote a lot of my impressions and thoughts about Rain World and why I fell in love with this game, but most of all, this game just clicked with me in some very personal and unique way, which I struggle to explain. It gives me something very important, something I lack and miss so much, but the only thing that comes to my mind is Experience. The very ability to experience, which was taken away from me by my very own survival mechanisms long-long ago. And so, just an unusual game with sometimes annoying gameplay and an interesting philosophy and lore, accidentally became a strange form of therapy for me, revealing what I was missing by allowing me to experience it.

Touching the grass, going in nature, hanging out with friends, and even just living life, don't work if you can't experience them. I don't remember what experiencing something even feels like, and even my art, my characters, Koties, often feel more like a battlefield full of deaths and overcoming than a safe place of escapism. And the "just touch the grass and take a rest" mindset only made things worse, shaming for not being able to actually do this.

And Rain World finally gave me the Experience, as honest and pure as it is. My survival became the survival of a little slugcat in a world where even just climbing up a pipe can seem like an insurmountable challenge. In a world where so little depends on you, and every step can turn into death simply by accident, and not because you did something wrong. Feels scarily relatable. Usually people are afraid to see the world as random, absurdly unfair, and so they seek control by blaming others or themselves, or just some rest from it (like, in videogames). But I'm not able to, so the feeling of unfair world just as it is has somehow become healing for me, motivating me to learn and move forward in a much healthier way, with no shame of living in it.

And over time, it started to feel better. Starting out as a helpless and clumsy slug, I became someone who seeks adventure and goes to the most hardcore locations simply because I want to explore them, to find some more hidden colored pearls, and to share some of the existential wonder and despair with the local gods and ghosts. This became my own small journey and experience, and I felt and expressed it with all my emotion. To go through all this and break the cycle. I love this game, I love its story and characters, I love its gameplay. I want to save this moment in my memory.

Of course, all this is just my personal interpretation and projection, we all see the world through these even when we try to be objective, but that's the point. Rain World feels like that rare thing that allowed me to go through it and experience it very personally, feeling my reality as valid, regardless of other people's interpretations, their lore discussions and disputes about what is the true canon. Honestly, I don't care. I just allowed this little game to feel like my thing, and I don't even feel wrong or ashamed about it. I missed feeling like that.

I'm not special, and this game wasn't made by or for me, but that's just another story of the unknowing recipient and the reluctant gift.

There is no solution, only a personal yet random path to walk on.

The world is unfair, cruel and random. You will get lost, suffer and die over and over again, giving up and continuing to try and move, sometimes succeeding, sometimes drowning in despair, seeing shelter right before your eyes but failing to reach it. Your greatest happiness is to find some food and a safe place to rest…

There is nothing miserable about it, even if sometimes you feel so. This is natural. Everyone feels that way. The joy of success in survival. The pain of another unfair fall.

But the more successful you are, the further you can go. Including places where no one goes.

A random gift from a random god, and you are no longer an animal, you are something… different.

The one who seeks. The one who asks. The one who listens.

You woke up as accidentally as you were accidentally killed so many times. But now, your cycle has turned into a path, in which you are all alone. No one can hear or understand you, because you heard and understood something that perhaps you were not even made to understand.

You have been used by one and blindly guided by other, and now you are conscious on your path, without even knowing where it leads. You have received your sight while remaining blind. Even the gods are blind.

And…

You found what you were looking for when you stopped looking for it. You will never return to the cycle again. …was it right?

****

Some quick and sketchy Rain World fanart, along with some of my impression/interpretation of it (Survivor's story in particular) ~

[bichitosdecolores]

my biotech final project is to create a transgenic organisms and because my team is very normal we want to create a fluorescent taenia

[ananke-xiii]

I literally don't care about Dean teaching Jack how to drive&fish but I absolutely need a fic with Sam, Rowena and Cas going to meet the shaman Sergei who was recommended by none other than Ketch. Cas huffs and puffs about it for the whole drive, Rowena complains about Sam driving too slow and Sam thinks about driving them all into a cliff, the thought of dying Jack is the only thing keeping them all alive. What's even worse? The ride back home. With Sergei. Level of "I'd rather be in the pit of hell than in this car with you all" over nine thousand. It's, again, the thought of a dying Jack that keeps them all safe from eternal damnation because these people would otherwise Commit Crimes&Sacrileges.

[bi-panic-at-the-disco]

I like how whenever I watch AstralSpiff or Backseat play a new Poppy Chapter it’s pretty clear what game that they devs had been playing before hand lmao,, Chapter 4 being very clearly referencing to the Resident Evil 4 underground factory insect fights with how it was framed

[good-beanswrites]

I can't stop thinking of Kyanako's Order of Attack au... there's something so moving to me about how things getting so much worse could be what finally causes Amane to get better -- seeing Fuuta dying may be the final straw of getting her to rethink her rejection of medicine. Been a while since I've attempted something whump-y, this was fun to work with.

Tw for mentions/contemplation of death. I don't go into detail about the cult but the doctrines are implied through it all.

Fuuta was not a big fan of dying.

When he imagined his own death, he always pictured it as something dramatic and fast. Action heroes going out in a show of explosions and gunfire. Fantasy characters meeting the shining end of a blade. Even when he accepted his place in Milgram, it filled his mind with images of gallows and electric chairs. 

Whatever this slow, lengthy fever was, it was pissing him off. 

He’d lost all sense of time. He could no longer tell which hour the prison bells were marking -- morning and night blended together. Dreaming and waking blended together. His head injury and broken leg and broken bones blended together. It was all just pain at the end of the day. He had nonstop visitors that kept him awake and asked him too many questions and prodded his injuries and made his head spin. Somehow, he was simultaneously alone every time he rolled over to talk to someone. Painfully, suffocatingly alone. 

If Kotoko was going to kill him with those ridiculous emo boots of hers, she should have just done it. He was losing his mind here: devoid of all energy, suffering through broken bones and a cracked head, and boiling in an increasingly fiery fever. Maybe that was the reason he stopped commenting when he watched Amane pocket the medicine Shidou had left him. Maybe that was why he’d stopped following Shidou’s instructions himself. Even after losing an eye and taking a beating herself, Amane always looked at peace. He was tired of dealing with all of this. He wanted a bit of that peace.

Regardless of why, it was working. His fever had quickly gone from the biggest pain in his ass to the very thing that dulled his racing thoughts. 

He awoke suddenly, or maybe he’d already been awake. He couldn’t feel anything in his limbs. There was only a breathless heat around him. He raised himself into a sitting position, looking for a drink. Moving his head felt like one of those glitching computer windows that leaves a trail of copies behind it. The room swam around him. His eyes moved absently around him.

Fuuta picked up the glass that someone had left him. His fingers were clumsy, and it immediately went crashing to the ground. He hardly heard the noise as it broke apart on the concrete below. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He’d just go get a drink himself. Shidou told him not to get up without help. But what did he know? Thinking of the man ordering him around only drove Fuuta to step out of bed even quicker. He cried out, pain shooting through his leg. That was right, it was broken… 

Fuuta looked down, finding himself on the ground. It was so hot. Maybe this is what she felt, he thought numbly. Was it this slow for her too? Probably not. She had no regrets to fill the time like he did. The heroes got quick, beautiful deaths, and it was the villains who had to suffer the long ones. 

He lifted his right palm from where it had caught his fall. The shattered glass on the floor had cut into it. Shattered glass? What had broken? He stared blankly at the blood dripping down. 

He didn’t have the strength to raise himself up. He was burning. Why was he on the ground? Was he bleeding? He could barely breathe. What was he doing here, anyway? He just wanted to curl up and sleep. He was so weak... just to lie down... he wouldn't have the strength to get back up again. Was that such a bad thing...?

A voice caught his attention. His eyes struggled to focus on the figure who’d come running into the cell. He couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying, but he was happy when she pressed her cool little hands against his forehead. 

He allowed her to prop him up next to the bed. She held onto his hand, squeezing it tight. Why was she holding it like that? That hand was bleeding. When did that happen?

Her arms wrapped tightly around him. He wanted to shove her away -- it was too hot -- but couldn’t. In his ear, he could make out her words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, Fuuta. Don’t leave me alone. I’m so sorry...”

As she pulled back, he recognized Amane. Her uninjured eye was filled with tears. Was she upset? He thought he’d been making her happy. He wanted to keep making her happy. He’d never made anyone happy before. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out. They all scrambled up in his mouth. He felt the cell swirling around him.

Amane raised her voice. She looked desperately upwards. “This can’t be --! This isn’t right!” 

Fuuta looked up at the ceiling. There was nothing there. 

“I can’t do this anymore.”

She continued talking. Fuuta was too busy studying the ceiling. She was shouting. Or maybe crying. Fuuta didn’t like that she was so upset. Huh, had there been someone there? He surveyed the empty cell. What was he doing on the ground?

He looked down at his hand. The sheet from his bed had been pulled down and wrapped hastily around it. Why? His eyes felt sticky as he blinked. Everything hurt. It was so hot. What was going on? He was so angry. He was so scared. He wanted to cry. Why was he here? Why couldn’t he just hurry up and die already?

The next time she entered, Fuuta recognized Amane instantly. Her one hand pointed to him, the other held onto someone else. The second figure hurried over to him. 

Fuuta was not a big fan of dying. Shidou reassured him he wouldn’t.

—

“You’re wearing the eyepatch,” Fuuta observed. 

He was playing a dangerous game, drawing attention to it like that. He was too exhausted, and his curiosity won out over his better judgment. If Amane was going to explode with one of her typical speeches, he’d just let her.

She didn’t. 

Amane’s hand drifted up to her eye. It had been hastily covered before, but now it was cleaned and wrapped in professional-grade materials. She simply said,  “Kajiyama Fuuta. How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

“But--”

“-- But I’m better, yeah.”

Amane nodded, her shoulders releasing. 

“Oi, I haven’t seen you in a while. Not since…” He wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. Shidou had told him what happened, but it was difficult to believe. He couldn’t quite trust his own memory of the night. No matter how much clearer his mind felt since receiving proper treatment, those days of fever still muddled together. He heard that Amane had up and switched her beliefs overnight -- she was now complacent about all of Shidou's treatments -- but Fuuta knew people didn't just change like that. He wanted to hear it for himself.

She lowered her gaze in shame. “I… I thought you hated me.” Her voice was steady. “As you should. I almost killed you. I accept any ill will you may feel.”

“I -- what? You’re wrong. You… it wasn’t…” He grabbed his head, grunting in frustration.

After standing awkwardly in the entryway the whole time, Amane took a few steps inside. She made it to his bedside when he finally collected his thoughts. 

“It was your fucked up family or whatever that caused everything. They did this. And I went along and made things worse.” He looked away. His next words felt stupid to say to a little kid. He felt like the most pathetic, weak, loser. But it was too important not to say.

“They almost killed me. You saved me.”

[amelikos]

Gibeon, huh.

[yeleltaan]

// Happy New Year everyone! I hope this year treats you kindly, that you find fulfillment in the fruit of your efforts and that you feel very loved!