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consumedkings-archive · 4 years

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ancient names, pt. xvii

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt xvii: what the wolves taught me

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~6.9k

Rating: Explicit.

Warnings: mentions of gore and blood, like a LOT of mentions of blood, mentions of self-harm, shower sex without Reasonable Protection, also like kind of dubious if you squint because John is tripping, bad decisions are made as well as some questionable dirty talk (John really likes that she beat a man to death). Elliot kind of has like one (1) tiny power trip. Idk man just like proceed with caution??

Notes: A little bit of an interlude chapter, this one! Last chap was a bit intense, so this one's more of a transition--not a lot happens in terms of plot movement, so everyone can go ahead and catch your breath. ♡ As always, a big and huge thank you to everyone who reads and comments, has come and said hi to me on my tumblr. This fandom has been so incredibly lovely and welcoming and just understanding of my general chaos and my inability to bend to canon at all. I'm just so grateful to each and every one of you! Thank you thank you thank you!

Big thank you to @shallow-gravy for lending me their eyeballs and for making me this GORGEOUS moodboard for Elliot. When I say that I like died inside when I saw it, it's because my life became complete and I was ready to ascend. Thank you so much!!

And of course my angel @starcrier, my lover my life my shawty my wife, who proofreads all my garbage even though she doesn’t even go here but she goes here for me! ILY ♡

As always, I hope you enjoy and thank you again! ♡

John felt pretty good, all things considered.

Yeah, he was probably going to feel like shit when came off of his high; yeah, kissing Elliot did smear blood all over his mouth, but when he spotted the two of them in the reflection of the truck’s dark windows, Elliot’s face and hair splattered in crimson and the very obvious incrimination on his mouth, he thought, well, don’t we make quite a pair?

Everything blurred and pulsed pleasantly around him now as he sat in the passenger seat of the truck. The crash of the drug wasn’t really much of a crash at all—idly, John wondered how it was they got the downturn to be so easy, so slow, so mild. Each time he took in a breath it felt like the car expanded with him. There wasn’t anything the world, in that moment, that wasn’t for him, not a single thing that didn’t sway and pulse and beat in time with the rhythm of his own heart.

Except for Elliot. When he looked at her, red sparked off of her in violent waves to their own metronome, mimicking the dashes of crimson on her face and in her hair; the bruises welled red and blue along the pillar of her throat, her jaw, one on the corner of her mouth. She looked wild; her eyes moved with a sharp clarity that had him wondering how long that Wrath had really been sitting inside of her.

Not a good girl, he thought, watching Elliot drag her thumb from one end of her mouth to the other, wiping the blood their liplock had smeared around. He could still taste it in his mouth. Not anymore.

You couldn’t be good and bash a man’s skull in, could you? And it was bashed in—John had gotten one single good, long look at Kian’s face, and there was nothing of it left except bloody mush and two battered eyeballs barely stuffed into his skull. Gruesome. Well past the point of killing him.

“They attacked the compound,” Jacob was saying from the driver’s seat, pulling out onto the highway with a not-so-kind lurch as they hit pavement. “About an hour after you took off. I bet they were waiting. Fucking cockroaches.”

John glanced into the rearview mirror. He meant to look and see if he could catch any movement in the trees—anything that wasn’t Eden’s Gate—but he just looked at Elliot. Sharp-eyed, bloodied, fingers knotted into Boomer’s fur as the dog lay with his head in her lap. It wouldn’t have done any good, looking back there; everything was moving. Everything was breathing.

“Drugged me,” he offered helpfully, his tongue feeling a little too big for his mouth. Jacob looked at him through the sides of his eyes and hit the cruise button. “Got a radio back, too. I tried calling you guys, but—”

“But not Elliot,” Jacob said, less a question and more a confirmation of what he believed to be true. John shrugged idly.

His eldest brother glanced back at Elliot then, but she was silent for two heartbeats longer than what it should have taken for her to answer before she replied, “Wouldn’t have been fun for him if I was.”

“Yeah, well,” the redhead muttered. “You sure made...” His voice trailed off, and his eyes fixed on the road again. “... Work of him, didn’t you, deputy?”

Elliot sighed. That Jacob said you made work instead of you made quick work made John painfully, delightfully aware of how many times and how much effort it must have taken for Elliot to cave Kian’s face in, and that knowledge writhed pleasant and desirous in his stomach.

But Jacob didn’t sound pleased. John supposed that he wouldn’t be, all things considered. Kian was dead, sure, but the rest of the Family had almost certainly scattered like rats to whatever corner of Hope County they could reach. They would be a problem. By now, they were all supposed to be hunkering down in the bunker to outlast the End Days, and instead, they were contesting with an entirely different pest.

Maybe Elliot was right; maybe without Ase and Kian, they would just leave. Go and kill some other tiny town of people. Get their skin melted off by the nuclear war.

In fact, if John really thought about it—and it did take work—he didn’t think that the Family was much of a problem at all anymore. The only thing that remained questionable, and up in the air, was Elliot herself.

My wife, he thought, his brain ticking and idling like an engine cooling down, wading through the neck-high water of his thoughts. Each leap from one thread to the next felt sugary-slow. Little killer, aren’t you?

He didn’t think that she would be content with hunkering down in a bunker. That would take some time to warm up to, probably—and, John reasoned, he would have to first broach the subject of their legal binding. But that was another problem, for another time, and right now all John wanted to think about was getting home and enjoying his high while he had it.

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When Elliot was very young, she remembered coming across a snake coiled on the hot pavement of the path up to their front door. It had been after school; her mother had had the windows of the kitchen open, playing an old song, something about a dream, and she could hear it from all the way down at the road. The snake was basking—drinking in the sunlight, mottled in shades of brown and copper, flecks of white highlighting the prettiest parts of it. The snake had been a dream to a girl who ran wild and barefoot through every inch of the Hope County wilderness she could reach; the speckled pattern begging for a touch, it’s elegant coil beckoning for attention.

The window to the kitchen had been open, and the second her mother had seen her staring at the snake, she’d come sprinting out the front door. Her mother had never liked any kind of animal that didn’t have four legs and wouldn’t fall under the “fluffy retriever” category, so at first, she had thought it was just her mother’s aversion to the scaly members of the animal kingdom; but after her mother’s insistent shrieking that she give the rattler a wide berth on the way up to the front steps, she’d thought maybe it was actual danger worrying her mother.

Of course, Scarlet had called the sheriff’s office and immediately demanded someone come and get rid of the snake (even though you weren’t supposed to call the sheriff’s office for that kind of thing, there was animal control) while she made herself a vodka soda.

“He’s pretty, mama,” Elliot had said, staring out the window at the snake. “Did you see his spots?”

“Pretty.” Scarlet had never sounded more displeased. She squeezed her lime into her drink, muttering furiously. “All those spots mean that ugly thing would kill you with one bite, bunny. Do you hear me? Venomous. Stay away from it.”

Now, sitting in the back seat of an Eden’s Gate truck, her face mottled with a dead man’s arterial spray, she felt like that prairie rattler, her spots belying a poison and vicious bite.

Pretty, she thought tiredly, combing her fingers through Boomer’s fur. Pretty venomous.

Her gaze drifted absently, away from the landscape blurring past them as Jacob cruised back to the compound and instead onto the occupants of the car. John was leaned back in his seat, eyes fluttering shut occasionally like he couldn’t keep them open very well, and Jacob had a tight grip on the steering wheel. A pack of cigarettes sat in one of the cupholders in the center console, and she reached for them on autopilot.

Jacob’s gaze flickered down to her hand snaking between them. For a second, he looked like he’d been about to grab her hand, like maybe he thought she was trying something—but his fingers stayed on the steering wheel, and he said, “Probably a lighter in the console.”

Elliot snagged the cigarettes and then fished around in the console until she found the lighter. The cotton fabric of Ase’s high-necked dress felt sticky on her skin, like she was in the middle of a summer storm; chill seeped down into her bones, and her skin bloomed feverish, and she thought this is when the crash happens, but it didn’t hit. She lit a cigarette and rolled the window down before she took a drag and felt the tiredness pull at the corners of her vision.

The song from her memory played on a gentle loop in her head. Leisurely, lulling. So dream, when the day is new; dream, and they might come true. Her mother had listened to that song so many times, growing up. She wondered, briefly, if her mother was alright. If she’d gotten out. If she’d gone with the resistance and fled, or if she was still here somewhere, or if she was dead.

“Anyone get hurt?” she asked after a minute. “At the compound?”

“A few,” Jacob replied. His eyes narrowed. “None dead, though.”

Elliot exhaled smoke out the window. She thought she would have felt dirty, now, sticky with Kian’s breath and his fingers and his mouth against her skin—but she didn’t, not right away. She just felt—

“Sure that’s disappointing for you,” Jacob continued.

—tired.

“Eat shit, Jacob,” she muttered. “I just solved your biggest problem.”

“No, you didn’t,” he snapped back. “Not by a long fucking mile, deputy.”

The redhead eyed her through the mirror, but she didn’t say anything to that—and for the rest of the ride back to the compound, it was blissful, empty silence.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John thought he must have certainly fallen asleep in the car, because one second he was blinking through Jacob talking about how the compound had been attacked, and the next they were parking.

The compound looked a little worse for wear, but it was quiet; if not for the bullet holes in the walls of buildings, and the occasional blood spray dried nearly black with time, he wouldn’t have known anything was amiss at all. He would have thought it was a regular evening—but was far from it.

At the very least, John felt a little clearer now. His high was slowly cruising down, and he’d probably feel all of his bruises once he sobered up, but for now he buzzed.

Jacob climbed out of the driver’s seat beside him, and his body operated on autopilot to do the same. He saw Boomer drop from the truck and stick his nose to the ground instantly, eyes wary and waiting to see if any danger still lurked. When Elliot’s feet touched the ground, the Heeler did a single loop around her legs and then nosed her hand.

“John,” his brother said, his voice clipped. “Chapel.”

“Right,” John replied. He glanced over his shoulder and then looked at Elliot; she took in a little breath and waved her hand.

“Gonna shower,” she told him. “I’m good.”

John reached for her, fingers itching; Elliot caught his wrist before his hand could land on her shoulder, or her face, but she used it to pull him closer, and then she kissed him—leaned up and pressed her mouth, tasting like wild copper and a little like ash, against his. John’s brain fizzed white static and he sighed against her kiss, and he was reminded of how electric she had felt back there in the forest with the buzz of her kill still sitting under her skin.

“John,” Jacob insisted, louder this time, “now.”

“Okay,” John said, but he said it into the kiss, sliding his hand from Elliot’s grasp. “Okay, I’m—”

And like that she had pulled away from him; she whistled for Boomer and set off across the yard for the bunkhouse, and he turned and forced his legs to move towards the chapel. I’m good, she’d said. What did she mean? What did “good” constitute?

His brain felt too muggy for him to contemplate whether or not he was spiraling on a thought because it had some other meaning or because he was high, so he just pushed aside as he walked into the chapel, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Joseph was there, sitting beside Faith; their heads bowed in silence, only disturbed when the sound of his and Jacob’s footsteps echoed in the quiet.

“You’re safe,” Joseph said, sounding relieved. As John came closer, his older brother lifted an arm; beckoning him, and he went instantly. Joseph’s hand cradled the back of his head and pressed their foreheads together in an embrace that was far softer than anything that had occurred between them as of late. It felt like John’s entire body sighed in relief. “We were so worried, John.”

“And high as shit,” Jacob replied as they neared. “Tripping fuckin' balls, aren’t you, Johnny?”

“It’s fine,” John insisted, though he could hear the words slur a little even as he tried very hard to punctuate them on their way out of his mouth. “Not so bad.”

“You look awful,” Faith murmured. “What happened?”

“Um,” he said.

“Kian’s dead,” Jacob explained helpfully.

Joseph blinked. His expression was guarded, but hopeful. “Good news, then.”

“Deputy Honeysett bashed his skull in with a shotgun.”

Faith said, “Oh.”

A moment of silence stretched between them. Jacob paced to the front of the chapel; Joseph absently scratched at his cheek, his hand having withdrawn from John as he took in this news from his brothers. John tried not to shift too much, but the silence was killing him—he didn’t know how Joseph was going to feel about that. If he would still want Elliot with them.

“Was she?” Joseph asked after a minute. “Drugged?”

“No,” John said. “Not—I mean, she said she wasn't.”

“So she did it on her own,” he continued, “without being influenced by anything that could arguably… Cause a hallucination which would make her do that.”

“I—” John’s brain struggled to keep up with Joseph’s train of thought. “I—guess—”

“This is good news, then.” Joseph’s voice bloomed with warmth. “Don’t you see? There is no person more in need of us,” he continued, “than someone who has nowhere left to go.”

“And where would she go,” Jacob muttered, “that wouldn’t commit her to a psychiatric ward.”

Joseph nodded. His hand returned to the back of John’s neck and gripped there, firm and steadfast.

“You’ve done so well, John,” he said, “but our time is running out. You know that, don’t you? We are borrowing it now, from God himself, and I don’t intend to go into the next phase of our lives with a debt to pay.”

John blinked through the fog in his brain and swallowed thickly. He thought he knew what it was that Joseph was telling him—but before he could think too hard on it, Jacob interjected, “John hasn’t told the deputy about their blissful union.”

“What?” Faith asked, head snapping to look at him.

“Well,” John began.

“Actually,” Jacob continued, “he lied about it.”

“Well,” John tried again, irritably, “it had already been done, and she didn’t remember it thanks to Faith’s handiwork, and at the moment in time I thought—maybe—it would be worse off to tell her rather than…”

He fumbled for the words he wanted to say; the truth was that there were no good excuses. He just didn’t trust Elliot not to go absolutely feral when she found out, because she certainly didn’t remember it which meant she certainly was going to have feelings about it. And that was a problem.

But a problem for another time. Right?

“You’re gonna stick us in a bunker with her,” Jacob snapped, “and let her lose her shit on us while we’re trapped.”

“I won’t,” John insisted.

Joseph exhaled softly. “John—”

“I’ll—I’ve got it under control!” he exclaimed, looking at Joseph. “I know Elliot better than any of you, and I’ll find the right way to tell her, and it’ll be fine. I know.”

His older brother watched him with a pensive gaze. For a moment, John thought he saw regret flash across Joseph’s face—maybe for praising him too fast, maybe for entrusting this to him at all in the first place. But if he let someone down, that wasn’t his fault, right? This shit was so far beyond the plan of attack—so far beyond what they had anticipated, that there was a margin for error.

No, John thought, no, there isn’t. I know better. I’m better. I know.

“Borrowed time, John,” Joseph cautioned at last. “We’ve got to get rid of these locusts, and then we will be retreating for the End. You understand?”

John steadied the breath that tried to slip out of him. I don’t want to go into the next phase of our lives with a debt to pay.

“Yes, Joseph,” he replied. “I understand.”

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The stinging shower water ran pink to the drain. Elliot dunked her head under the water and passed her hands over her face; she stood there for a moment letting the water pool in the cups of her hands until her lungs ached and she had to let it go, spilling over her neck and shoulders. The dark dress, wretched thing, had been discarded and tossed into the trash; she thought if she had to look at herself in it for one more second she was going to come fucking undone, and that just wouldn't do.

The door clicked open; a brief moment of hesitation sounded before she heard footsteps coming inside. “El?”

She turned in the shower, wiping water from her eyes before tugging the curtain back. John regarded her with eyes only half-intoxicated, more clarity about them now than there had been in the truck.

Elliot watched him for a moment as she considered. The chill hadn't left her bones, even in the scalding hot water.

“Are you getting in?” she asked, watching his gaze flicker absently before landing back on her.

“Are you inviting me?”

Elliot pulled back from the curtain and ducked back under the water. “I’ve never known you to need an invite.”

“Fair enough, I won't disappoint.”

There was the gentle rustle of fabric, the push of the curtain, and then she wasn’t alone in the shower anymore; but it was fine, because she didn’t want to be alone anymore, because it felt like her entire body was vibrating and she couldn’t get it to stop. Unlike John, who she guessed was cruising down the same gentle crash that she had felt when the Family had drugged her with their weird shit, there was nothing inhibiting her body now. Only the quick, sharp, violent buzzing of blood on her mind, under her fingernails, between her teeth.

It felt good, too. An adrenaline high; the fall, right before impact.

John’s hands slid along her hips. The calloused pads of his fingers—fingers meant to hurt, to twist and coerce—skimmed the scars along her abdomen, sloping across her hip bones; she didn’t have to glance down to see that’s what he was doing. You’ll tell me, he’d said that morning. Eventually.

“I did them,” she said around the dull roaring in her ears. The words tasted strange on her tongue. A verbal admittance was very different from scribbling it into a journal. But the catharsis had begun; with Kian’s collapsed skull imprinted into her mind forever, it felt as though a tension had released in her, pulled taut and sharp and finally ripped free.

“Did what?” he asked, nosing past wet hair to glide his mouth along the pillar of her throat.

“The scars,” Elliot murmured. “I did them.” To feel real, she wanted to say, I did them so I could know that I was still real, but the words wouldn’t come. Maybe they didn’t need to.

John’s thumb swept along the one that stretched over her hip bone. He hummed, low and hungry, into her skin. He might have been coming down from his high, but it didn’t seem to be pushing him into sleep; he was enjoying it, the gentle careening to sobriety.

And maybe tomorrow she would regret telling him. Maybe tomorrow she would feel dirty for the way that she killed Kian, instead of intoxicated with her own magic. Maybe, maybe, maybe—but that was a thing to think about when the time came, and just like she had done everything else about herself that she hadn't liked, she would strangle it and move on.

John turned her around so that he could pull her against him. He said, “I thought so,” like he had recognized it in her, and she thought about that dream. Just like me, holding her blood-covered hands in his. You’re just like me.

Lifting her arms, Elliot carded her fingers through his hair and then gripped, pulling him in to press her mouth against his. She kissed him the way that she wanted to; no time for shyness now, she thought, no room for hesitation. John had watched her cave a man’s face in, and he was still here and hungry, so she kissed him hard—dug her teeth into his lip and revelled in the way that he moaned and leaned into her.

He’d kissed her frantically, too, back in the clearing and with Kian’s body just a foot away from them. Kissed her with blood in her mouth, greedy and insatiable, and frenzied, like he’d wanted her right then and there and wasn’t willing to let her go until he absolutely had to.

The raised skin of his Sloth scar dragged under her fingers. She dug her nails into the soft expanse of his shoulder, and he made a low, delicious noise against her mouth. I could give him more, she thought, dizzied at the idea of it, at this sudden humming, heady power she felt had become hers. This something that had become unlocked inside of her. I could give him more, and he’d thank me for it.

“Elliot,” John began, hands gripping her hips as he nudged her back against the shower wall. But he didn’t follow it up with anything; he just kept her there, skin on skin, heat bleeding out from every inch of him. His hand drifted up above her head, fumbling at the window, trying to push it open. “Fuck, it’s so fucking—hot in here—”

I want to be yours. I want a home with you.

Briefly, she wondered if that dream had been as wishful as she’d thought. John had been exactly what she wanted him to be—just the color, just the shape, everything in him built to lure her and keep her there like the most perfect predator. It was easy to forget that she had never known that she wanted a man whose hair was dark and his eyes a little cruel until she had looked at John Seed. But now it was impossible to ignore; she pressed to him, craved him, this delicious anchor of hers.

He could be cruel, if he wanted—he’d considered drowning her to death. He’d been greedy to mark her skin forever with her sin. He’d littered his body with markings and scars, testaments to his devotion, just like he had done every other conversion.

Yes, she thought absently, against the stifling heat of the stinging shower and John’s own radiating warmth, feverish from the hallucinogen seeping out of him. He is cruel. But maybe I—

And then he murmured, against her ear, “Want you,” hazy and buzzing and warm. His fingers slid down between them, gliding along the curve of where she most wanted his attention, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. He buried his face into her neck and sighed, pressing into her and eliciting in her a spark that traveled straight down her spine; and then, almost as though he wasn’t thinking too hard about it: “Would’ve—back in the forest—”

He cut himself off and his movements stilled, just for a second. Elliot tilted her head to look at him through her eyelashes and canted her hips to gain some friction against the heel of his palm; she wasn't bothering anymore to stifle the stuttered, half-breath-half-whimper that came out of her as slick pleasure pooled in her stomach, the feeling of his fingers dragging a delicious, heady burn through her.

Elliot heard him swallow back a sound over the white noise of the shower. It was a wicked kind of thing, this watching John as she leaned down into him; watching the muscle in his jaw tense and flex just before he beckoned his fingers against her and bit out a swear between his teeth when her body tensed and arched prettily into his touch. Needy and wanting; just the way that he liked, she was sure.

“Would’ve what?” she prompted breathlessly. John’s lashes, long and darker still from the shower spray, flickered. He seemed to be weighing it in his head, the pros and cons of what he had been going to say, but Elliot was no longer in a place of wanting to wobble. No floating, no drifting between ethereal and corporeal—she didn’t want to have to wonder, to have to piece together what it was he was thinking with the crumbling threads she could scoop up.

He didn't answer her; instead, he dragged his mouth along the slope of her neck, teeth digging against her pulse point. Elliot moaned, choking the noise halfway out of her spitefully, because she wanted him to earn it, and he did it again—harder this time, less like he was testing and more like he knew that she wanted it. The sting rippled heady anticipation straight to her brain, sparking through that hazy fog in her mind.

She sighed, "John," just as he dragged his fingers out slowly, torturously slowly, not enough to give her even half the friction she wanted and not so little that it didn’t make her suffer in the best sort of way. As soon as they didn’t return, but rather traveled the expanse of her abdomen, a quiet complaint slipped out of her; John kissed her, his tongue gliding against hers, his teeth nipping and biting as he dragged her leg up around his hip.

Everything felt like it was happening between breaths, between heartbeats, her pulse moving so sluggishly it was lava spreading through her body. Stifling, so hot, too hot, too much, but John’s mouth over hers pushed and pulled the breath out of her, guided the currents of her like the moon. Elliot tried again, giving the words more punch on their way out, “You would’ve what?”

She thought that she knew what he was going to say, and she wanted to hear him say it, that he would’ve—

“Fucked you,” John managed out hoarsely, just as he rocked into her. “God, I—”

Yes, she thought; the word left her mouth in something close to an exhale, and she didn’t know if she was responding to what he’d said or to the way it felt like he’d set a wildfire going racing along her skeleton the second they connected. He managed out a half-moaned swear and shifted into a slower, more leisurely paced as he sighed, “I would’ve, El— fuck , you’re so tight— ”

Pleasure wrenched in her stomach and writhed, hot and wicked. John’s pace was halting; he was trying not to go too fast or too hard even though he wanted to, but then he said things like how he wanted to fuck her while she was covered in blood and—

And she felt seen, and wanted, and she thought this must have been how they did it: took all of the grit and gore of someone and worshipped it, like something holy.

Biggest fucking Peggy-killer this side of Hope County, he’d spat at her that day they’d found Waylon’s body. But now? Now, it was all, so tight, El, want you, would’ve fucked you right there.

His hands grazed the bruises on her body before stopping at her hips again. He pulled back to get a good look at her, and then reached up, cradling her jaw with his left hand and dragging the pad of his thumb across her lip. A thrill crawled up her spine, hot and searing and latching onto her; she thought, this magic is mine now, too, and she parted her lips obediently to drag him into her mouth just so she could watch John just about come unglued.

And never before had she felt like this, wicked with John’s eyes blown wide and dark with want as his gaze fixed on her mouth and moaned, “God, Elliot—”

She wanted to forget about Kian’s hands on her body, his mouth on her skin, his words ringing in her head. So she did; she indulged in the feeling of John’s breath trembling as her tongue flickered against the pad of his thumb and the way he hissed as his pace changed.

“Should have,” Elliot managed out when his thumb slipped from her mouth so that he could press his hand against the wall by her head. She said it between dizzying, radiating pleasure dragging through her body, devouring her, dragging her further and further toward the edge. “Should have—fucked me then, John, I—”

“F-Fuck.” The swear left his mouth wrecked, his movements stuttering. “Fuck, that’s so— filthy.”

He stopped tempering himself. If he was doing it because he was worried about whatever injuries she’d sustained, she was glad that he’d stopped—each haphazard, frenzied connection of their bodies sent her rapidly hurtling towards her finish, his fingers digging and dragging against the parts of her that craved him the most. It wasn’t fair, really, that John could rumble a few dirty things about wanting to fuck her in the woods and get her so close: but he did, and she was, and that was the end of it.

She breathed out, “Close, John—I’m—”

“Liked that, did you?” He sounded awfully pleased with himself, even as each of his breaths were punctuated with a desirous sound. “Liked me telling you how badly I wanted to push that dress up and fuck you right there? You get s-so —fucking tight when I say that—c’mon, El, let me hear those pretty noises—”

“Yes,” Elliot moaned, hazy with want, desperate and still trying to swallow some of it back, so close so close so close. “Yes, yes, I— John—”

John said something into her mouth; she couldn’t have said what it was, because all of the blood went rushing through her head the second her climax hit. There was a strange, suspended moment of nothing before it ripped straight through her, every neuron firing off rapidly as she buried her face into John’s neck and dug her nails in hard while the wave washed over her, wicked-hot and nearly too much.

Nearly, but not quite. John’s teeth on her lip dragged her back, and he moaned, “Holy shit, fuck yes —fuck, El, I’m gonna—let me—”

He couldn’t quite get out what he was trying to say, but Elliot thought she knew; it wasn’t hard to guess, anyway, considering the way he was gripping her like he’d fucking disappear if he didn’t. And she felt a little wild, a little wicked, only a vicious desire left before she hit empty, so she managed out, “Beg.”

John pulled back a little and let his gaze rake over her. His movements slowed, just enough that she could tell that he was pacing himself, holding back the same way he had that first time when she’d dragged him through his own climax. Though his eyes were blown nearly black, the clarity about them made her want to squirm—that she knew he wasn’t quite so high as he was before, that he was going to remember this.

“Wh—” The brunette swallowed thickly; his hands skimmed absently across her skin, like he didn’t need to really think about it to do it anymore, but that they did it of their own volition. “What?”

With that same kind of recklessness, Elliot knotted her fingers in his hair and said, “ Beg to finish inside me.”

A short, breathless laugh barked out of him. He said, “Fuck you. I’m not—I don’t—”

Elliot squirmed, pulling on his hair until his lashes fluttered and he was leaning back into her on instinct. “You do now,” she replied silkily against his mouth. And then, in an attempt at graciousness: “Didn’t you want me to be loud, John? To hear me?”

He groaned. “Y—Yes—”

“So beg me,” she bit out, canting her hips against him and feeling his breath stutter and hitch, “and I’ll be as loud—”

“Fuck—”

“—as you want—”

“— yes —”

“—tell you how much I want it—”

“ Please,” John moaned as he slotted his hips against hers, unable to hold still any longer. He made a low, wrecked sound, and by the time the adrenaline rush from hearing John Seed say please to her had hit her brain he was foregoing all pretense. “Please, El, let me finish inside you, I’ll—fuck—make you feel so good, baby, make you mine—”

Elliot kissed him, hard and punishing, and moaned “Yes—yes, John, so good ,” against his mouth until he was driving into her like a man incensed, frenzied, each desperate dig of his fingers against the bruises in her skin delivering a different kind of delicious pain; and when he came, panting, yes, fuck yes, don’t stop, El, please, fuck, she held onto him tighter.

Anything to feel whole. Anything to feel safe. Anything to forget, even for a moment.

“Don’t move,” John managed out unsteadily. “Don’t—Jesus, fuck, it’s so fucking hot in here.”

“Don’t know where I’d go,” she replied in a murmur. Her brain felt foggy now, delicious sliding down from her high, remembering the surge of delight she’d felt when John had said please, El. The water had since gone lukewarm, and she wasn’t sure she even got all of the blood out of her hair, but it didn’t matter; pleasant after-currents rippled through her, and all she could think about was how little of her brain was being spent on churning around the Family.

John’s mouth traced a bruise on her neck—either from him, or Kian; she didn’t know—and his breath slid across her skin.

“Viper,” he murmured huskily, admiringly. “Aren’t you?”

“You said it yourself,” she replied tiredly, eyes fluttering as the desperate need for sleep finally registered in her brain; no more adrenaline to keep pushing it away. “More devil than woman.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was the second time waking up next to John, and the second time of having to try and brace herself for some kind of impact after.

That is to say, Elliot thought that maybe fucking John Seed felt a little bit like throwing herself off of a cliff, and so every time it happened—she thought, as though it had been more than twice—it was the same sensation of falling. The feeling prevailed over any other logic in her brain: upon waking, she thought very little of the sensation of his arm draped over her waist or his face buried into her hair and only of the sheer blast of panic that raced through her.

I smell, I feel, I hear, she thought, closing her eyes tight, but when she did, she saw Kian—blood streaming down his face, gripping her jaw, will you feel guilty about this too? And the panic shifted into dread, knotting tight and hard in her stomach.

She forced her eyes open. Sheer exhaustion had pushed her through a dreamless night, but that didn’t mean that her nightmares were confined to sleeping hours only.

When Elliot shifted, John stirred; his fingers skimmed up the back of her shirt, palm flattening at the spot between her shoulder blades, and she winced. Everything hurt. Everything ached. She wondered what was worse; nightmares, or this?

Definitely the nightmares, she thought, each breath a labor of her bruised and battered body. Right? Has to be the nightmares.

“Stop moving,” John muttered against her head.

“I don’t know why you don’t get the concept of a twin bed,” she snapped. “Fuck, my body hurts—”

“Well.” He was clearly trying not to sound smug, and failing; she could feel his grin into her hair. “I do recall you spurring me on—”

Oh, she thought, reminded of their shared shower. That.

A problem.

“Not from that, fuckhead.” She squirmed back from him, back pressing against the wall. “Feels like someone tried to curb stomp my ribs eighty times.”

“Probably did,” he replied. John tilted his head, wincing a little, and then nudged the blankets back from her body. His gaze was admiring. “Christ, you bruise easy, huh?”

“A fucking van t-boned us in a truck that spit out pitiful, half-functioning airbags, ” she bit out, “and then I got tossed around like a ragdoll, so—yeah, I guess if you consider battery and assault “easy”, then—”

John’s hands came up to her face and he kissed her. It lacked the same kind of urgency that it’d had last night; this was John taking his time, savoring her, parting his lips against hers and sighing into the kiss as he carded his fingers through her hair. The gesture itself was so unexpected that Elliot could do nothing but reciprocate, and the breath hitched in her throat as he tugged her back against him—part in pain and part because of the way he did it, like he just couldn’t get enough of her.

“So ungrateful,” he said against her mouth, “after I gave you what you wanted so badly last night.”

“I’m not the one who begged,” Elliot replied sharply, “am I?”

John’s hand skimmed the slope of her hip, and he made a low noise, thumb digging past the top of her underwear to press lightly into a bruise that she thought his fingers had left. She sucked in a sharp breath as a familiar heat sprinted down her spine and squirmed.

“Worth it,” he replied after a moment, teeth catching her lip, “to have you say how much you wanted me in you.”

He flashed that half-cocked, shit-eating grin that she could feel against her mouth, and she swatted his hand away from her hip. There was, perhaps, a part of her that regretted goading him like that—that regretted spurring him on—but there was no point in lingering on it now. As much as John might want to. As much as, when he looked at her with those too-blue eyes, she might want to.

Elliot opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, there was a soft, quick knock at the door. Boomer, curled up on one of her sweaters by the door, immediately pricked his ears and barked at the intrusion.

“Elliot?” It was Faith’s voice. She felt her stomach somersault, plunged into—well, it wasn’t quite shame, but maybe a little bit of embarrassment, in the way that it was to have the little sister of the man you were currently entangled with knock on your door while you were still in bed.

“I’m—” Elliot sat up, slapping a hand over John’s mouth when she saw him start to say something. “I’m getting dressed, what is it?”

“Joseph wants to talk to you,” Faith called back, pausing. And then, perhaps with a bit more slyness than Elliot liked: “And John.”

Fuck fuck fuck. The last thing she wanted was for Joseph to know . There was probably a ninety-eight percent chance that Joseph was going to be flashing that psychotic smile the second she walked in, knowing that she and John were—

“W—I’m coming,” she said, as John gripped her forearm and pressed his mouth to the pulse point on her wrist, letting his teeth drag there. She yanked her arm out of his grip and hissed, “Stop , you fucker, or I’ll pick my teeth with your fucking bones.”

“Okay,” came Faith’s light-hearted reply. “See you soon!”

As soon as she heard the footsteps receding, she turned to John. “What the fuck does your brother want with me, John?”

John shrugged. “Contrary to what you may believe about me, I am not entirely all-knowing.”

“As usual, you are stunningly unhelpful,” she muttered crossly, sliding out of the bed and over to her bag of clothes. Now, she really felt it—each impact had been dulled by the adrenaline at the time, but as she shimmied into her jeans, every inch of her body screamed in pain and her vision fuzzed around the edges.

John had gotten out of bed as well, but he departed to the bathroom and returned with a bottle of aspirin, which he shook two pills out of and held in his palm for her.

“You might consider something with a higher neck,” he suggested lightly.

Elliot snatched the aspirin out of his hand and swallowed them dry. “My teeth,” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest, “your bones.”

“Just trying to be helpful.”

“Suggestion box is closed,” Elliot snapped. “Now—”

Her eyes flickered over him. It was very easy to disassociate John’s personality from his physical body, but harder when he was half-stripped-down in front of her, scars and tattoos on display and reminding her how intimately familiar she was becoming with them.

“Now put your clothes on,” she finally said, somehow managing to keep her voice mostly steady. “I want to get this done as fast as possible.”

The brunette flashed her a cheeky smile and gave her a two-finger salute that rang sardonic at best.

“Anything you want, baby.”

#john seed x deputy #john seed x ofc #ch: elliot honeysett #otp: death keep off; i am your enemy #fic: ancient names #my writing #far cry 5 #fc5 fic #i'm not tryna be out here like have sex after you kill a man but if the mood fits u know #per usual john's hardware is on the fool setting only

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mingyiu · 3 years

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content creator year in review

thank you for tagging me @mngys / @x-exo 🥰

first creation of 2020

mingyu during ode to you in chicago!

most recent creation this year

mingyu for carat revival! I am currently working on another big gif set though...

a favorite creation from 2020

"here’s the baton, man” for carat revival! I don’t really have a creative mind so between the layout and the interpretation of the prompt this is probably as creative as I can get and I’m really happy with how it turned out!

a creation to be proud of

five years with seventeen! I think this was my first big anniversary post since I started working full time and I planned it out thoroughly LOL

mingyu during ode to you in chicago was the first thing I made in about a year - I had kind of lost inspiration/motivation to make gifs so I really wanted to spend a lot of time on it!

a new style that i tried this year

I don’t think I tried any new styles this year but I did start putting text on gifs which I haven’t done in a really long time!! still not sure how I feel about my execution of it but I’m glad I tried it

a creation that took forever

I literally spent MONTHS on five years with seventeen!! I decided on the concept really early in the year and told myself I had to start in march otherwise I would scramble to finish it. I created the template in late march/early april, then spent a bit of time every weekend throughout may working on it

2020 creation with the most notes

CROP TOP WONWOO! I think this was my 2nd or 3rd post here to break 1k so the fact that it broke 5k... omg insane. but really, what an iconic look for wonwoo

a creation that deserves more notes

nothing comes to mind and I really had to scroll through my posts for this

this and this I guess? my early wonwoo gifs didn’t get a lot of notes

a new fandom you joined this year and a creation you made for it

I made an icon for an astro sideblog I created but never used, does that count?

a creation you made that breaks your heart

I don’t think I’ve made anything that breaks my heart but in the vein of making me emotional it’s this mingyu in new york set! idk what it is about seventeen in new york city that makes me really emotional but it gets me every time - and even more so when it’s mingyu!

a simple creation you love

this mingyu one from seventeen brain survival! mingyu himself looks really pretty and in general I don’t think I did too much to these frames and I just really like how the set looks as a whole!!

also this mingyu... tbh I made it to see how other people would react to it but joke’s on me I suffered a lot and just stared at it for several loops every time I came across it on my dashboard

OH ALSO THIS ONE I FORGOT ABOUT THIS ONE

a creation inspired by another one

I don’t think I’ve done anything inspired by someone else’s post but five years with seventeen was actually based on my two years with seventeen post!

a favorite creation created by someone else

literally everything I reblog but special shout out to everything created for carat revival! I really enjoyed taking part in this challenge and also just loved seeing what everyone else made for the different prompts every week! there were a couple of weeks when I just scrolled through the tag for inspiration and everything there is amazing!

also another favourite is @julyprince‘s going seventeen gif sets omg I always look forward to them every time a new episode comes out LOL

some of your favorite content creators from the year

@bokdeongeori @defgyus @delicatecy @gotseventeens @hanwooz @iiasha @jeonghney @jonghan @joshuahong @julyprince @junhaou @kyeomblr @kyeomshine @mngys @myunqho @scoupsy

happy holidays and happy new year everyone!! this year has been an interesting one to say the least and I’m happy to have had gif-making and tumblr in general as an outlet. thank you all for sharing your wonderful creations and inspiring me! I’m not a creative person at all and I think my gifs are really boring because of it LOL but seeing what everyone else is able to create makes me want to improve and do more.

#idk how to tag this #tagged #thank you again sofi mentioning me!!#i hardly consider myself a content creator tbh omg

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callioope · 3 years

Text

Author Interview

tagged by @theputterer -- thank you :)

Name: Liz

Fandoms: In terms of posted fics, mainly Rogue One and Star Wars (OT). I have at least one fic posted in A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones, Community, and Howl’s Moving Castle (book). But I also like The Clone Wars and Rebels. I’ve been reading mainly ATLA fic for the past couple weeks.

Where you post: AO3 and sometimes here on tumblr. There are a few drabbles I’ve posted on tumblr that I really ought to crosspost on AO3 for posterity.

Most popular one-shot: “In Which Sophie is Late, and Howl Noses Around in Her Business” (Howl’s Moving Castle) With 698 kudos. Uh. Wow. I was not expecting that! It’s literally my only HMC fic (although I do technically have other unfinished drafts) and it’s not even a year old, and surpassed my second most popular one-shot which was posted in 2015. Pregnancy trope is popular I guess. It is amusing to me that my most popular one-shot is not in my favorite OTP fandom (rebelcaptain). Howl’s Moving Castle ended up having a wider audience than I anticipated.

Also as a disclaimer, but popularity is weird to gauge because do you go by hits or kudos or comments? I went with kudos because hits could count people who clicked on my story and then didn’t like it. But it’s hard because hits also include re-reads, so, idk.

Most popular multi-chapter fic: “The Last Stark” (A Song of Ice and Fire) 815 kudos. This was finished in 2013 so it’s had plenty of time to accumulate the kudos. It’s a Gendrya Anastasia AU (“Aryastasia” was my working title for this one lol). So again, popular trope, in a popular fandom, in a popular ship. This fic is so old when I reread it, I usually find myself wanting to edit it, especially the ending. I was so ready to be done writing this that I think I rushed the ending. Oh well, writing plots is really difficult!

Fic you were nervous to post: Every fic? lol. I’m never not nervous to post a fic. But I’m definitely more nervous posting in a fandom for the first time. So posting “Whatever I Do (I Do It To Protect You)” (Rogue One, rebelcaptain) was pretty nervewracking, especially since it’d been awhile since I posted anything. [OOOH, fun fact, but WID celebrated it’s 4 year anniversary yesterday! Ha, that’s funny.] I was working on this fic for weeks before I posted it.

I was also super nervous to post my Jeff/Annie Community soulmate AU, “Intro to Neurochemical Compatibility” because (a) first time posting in that fandom, (b) I decided to use script format which I know is not everyone’s jam, and (c) the premise is just so ridiculous! But I had fun with it.

Also gift exchanges are always nerve-wracking because I worry the giftee won’t like it. My giftee never responded to my 2020 rebelcaptain secret santa fic so I’m actually constantly worrying that they didn’t like it and feeling bad that I failed them. :/

How you choose your titles: with so much agonizing. gosh it’s so hard and honestly i have so many titles that i hate. I’ve got a couple song lyric titles. a couple quotes. a couple “how to...” apparently that was a whole phase I went through. Either the titles come to me immediately, or I put off choosing a title until the absolutely moment I need to post it, and then spend hours agonizing over a quote/song lyric/phrase that fits and probably begging others for help.

Do you outline: YES. Possibly overly so. I’ve ran into issues in the past, when I was much younger, where I didn’t resolve problems proposed early in the story. So I need to know where the story is going in order to lay the proper groundwork. Also, if I do not write things down I forget them five minutes later. I also think outlining is a useful trick to jumpstart writing, so if the muse just isn’t present, I’ll try to lure her out by outlining.

Complete: 19 fics.

In progress: Oh boy this is so hard to count. As far as what’s posted? Technically only one: “How to Lose a Spy in 10 Days” (Rogue One, rebelcaptain). Despite the fact that I think the deadline was extended multiple time, I procrastinated and ended up rushing chapter one to meet the rebelcaptain rom-com challenge deadline. Didn’t really have a proper outline for this one, even though I knew vaguely what I wanted it to be about. I wrote chapter two but I hated what I wrote so I ... I kinda abandoned it. I mean technically, I never consider a work abandoned, I always intend to get back to it. Some day when I have the inspiration I will. But this idea ended up being a challenge I didn’t feel ready for at the time, and then my interest moved on to other ideas.

I also had a longer story planned for “you must become an island (the horizon is all we have)” but only posted one part of it to finish it on time. Ideally this fic would be part of a series, but again, motivation is needed so we’ll see

Technically I have 22 rebelcaptain ideas alone (including some listed in this post) at various states of completed, plus a handful of Community and HMC ideas. Of the ones I’m most interested in, there’s probably about 14 that I really hope to finish and post some day.

ETA: omg i totally forgot that i was idly considering trying to finish my rebelcaptain soulmate AU in time for Valentine’s Day, but at this point I haven’t had any motivation to write so I don’t think that’s gonna happen. that fic has been sitting in my drafts since 2018 and in my drafts it will continue to sit.

Coming soon: “soon” is relative but these are currently the ones I’ve focused the most on recently:

Fencing AU (rebelcaptain)

You’ve Got Mail AU (rebelcaptain)

Post-War Fic with @allatariel (rebelcaptain, plus a LOT of other ships, includes Rebels characters, OT characters, and... maybe some others :) )

Palm Springs/time loop AU (Jeff/Annie)

Do you accept prompts: Wellllll here’s the thing. When I’ve asked for prompts, I haven’t been the best at fulfilling them in a timely manner. For that reason, I don’t encourage prompts but I’m not opposed to them. (I suppose technically exchange fics are prompts, and I wrote a bunch of fics in 2017 for rebelcaptainprompts, but I’m not gonna count those because I don’t think that’s what the question here is really going for)

“The Climb (A Lie, A Hero)” (Rogue One, rebelcaptain) was actually a prompt.

I solicited prompts for my birthday in 2019, which I didn’t end up fulfilling until exactly one year later.

Technically the You’ve Got Mail AU is a prompt, someone prompted me to write a fic for my favorite go-to comfort movie.

And, uh, the certain someone who tagged me for this meme prompted me in a comment back in October 2017 to do a Luke and Leia swap where Leia grows up on Tatooine, so that is sitting in my WIP list.

Yeah, this is why I don’t solicit or encourage prompts. The return rate is just not fair for the prompter.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: this fluctuates on any given day. the fencing AU is so close to being done (well the first draft anyways) so i really really want to just finish it! But yeah it’d be anything on the coming soon list above.

tagging: @allatariel, @cats-and-metersticks, @lothcatlovesysalamiri, @veritascara, @brynnmclean and anyone who sees this and wants to do it! also ofc per usual no pressure if u don’t want to.

#tag meme #about me #my writing

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dramionediscussion · 3 years

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Lately I feel like I’ve seen a lot of posts talking about the hate Dramione shippers get and the fandom drama between Dramione shippers and other shippers and IDK I guess I’m just out of the loop? I’ve been a hardcore Dramione shipper since I was 14 and first started reading fanfiction (like 2003) and I just... never really noticed or experienced this. Maybe I’m just in my own little bubble 🤷🏻‍♀️ but I followed because I wanted like, people’s takes on why they started shipping Dramione or what they love most about our ship, or like, just sharing headcanons and it’s just a bummer to see our own community so focused on negative experiences. I honestly don’t care about what any other shippers think about me as a Dramione shipper, or our ship, I’d rather focus on what we all love about our ship!

I started shipping Dramione because I was reading anything and everything HP and I just stumbled across a fic and fell in love! I don’t remember what that first fic was but the earliest fic thst made a big lasting impression was The Nietzsche Classes. I’ve fallen in and out of other ships over the years, but I’ve been shipping Dramione for over half my life now and they’ve always remained my #1. I love them because of the dichotomy and similarities of their personalities, because they’re both so clever, and because I feel like once Draco redeems himself and learns, they would challenge each other and really grow together! I just wanted to bring some positivity! When/why did you start shipping our lovely pairing?

Yeah, I personally didn’t see any hate until I started going to the dramione tag here on tumblr. The people who hate the dramione shippers would tag their posts with dramione, so their nasty rants will be mixed up with all the dramione fanart, fics, headcanons etc. It prob only started about 2 years ago, or at least it started to get really bad. But if you don’t do social media much and just read fics and follow some dramione people, it's easy to be away from that.

I got into it about 10 years ago by accident. I was generally curious about fanfiction as the movies were ending. And I saw a dramione fic and was so confused as to why a person will want to ship Draco with Hermione. So I read it, and well here I still am lol. I didn’t hate the pair, but I couldn’t see Draco matching well with Hermione. I always thought she and Harry would be good. But that one dramione (a one shot romance which I cannot remember! :( ) turned me, and I started reading more. The Nietzsche Classes was one of my first fics too!

- Lisa

#dramione #dejavudreamer7

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formulatrash · 4 years

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hey hazel i know you said you're swamped so seriously no obligation to answer but do you have any thoughts on will buxton's recent chronic inability to stop digging himself into holes, esp on twitter? i'm not so much of a buxton-hater as a lot of people i've been seeing but he has been dropping the ball constantly as of late. what's up with him

Hmm, well. I want to couch this in saying I think some of Will’s meltdowns have been truly appalling (the ‘racism is now about me’ one, in particular) and that however nice and human compared to a lot of F1 people he seems, he does come from an enormously privileged background. I really like Will - but I think it is worth acknowledging both that his behaviour goes well beyond having a bad day sometimes and that one of the reasons he’s been able to present a personable, friendly attitude in the paddock is that he’s from a class where that’s a comfort zone.

I really empathise with him at the minute. He’s been quite publicly open about struggling with mental health issues and this year has been really difficult for most of us in the industry, especially freelancers. Losing the thing your life revolves around is a major disruption, especially when doing your work in it is what gives you a sense of reward and worth and idk if that’s the problems Will’s having (I’m not his psychologist) but I know it’s hit me and other people in motorsport really hard. Like what do you do, wait? Give up on the thing you’ve been fighting to stay in for so long (and it’s always a bit of a wrestle) - and then to go back in weird, stressful circumstances is hard too.

But I think what gets to Will is what gets to me, too, which is just like skull-caving-in overwhelmedness at the internet. If you can’t post anything without a million people jumping on you then it’s really hard to tell if you’ve actually posted something bad or if it’s just the standard pile-on, which lets things escalate into the sort of Dick Tantrum incident* which was like, mostly harmless but all got a bit silly. (the person arguing with him was also being genuinely unpleasant and brought Will’s daughter into it, which is very uncool)

And I see the things that used to drive me mad when people asked me about when And We Go Green was coming out and I’d be like “I don’t know, I’m not the production company, I don’t know anything please stop asking me it’s not funny” because I was worried about it myself. So when the F1 show moved from YouTube to wherever (as far as I can tell it’s still on YouTube) and a load of people were moaning at Will, whose job it is to present it not schedule it, I really sympathetically winced. Like it’s hard enough having work at the minute, let alone being held responsible for all of FOM’s decisions.

There’s also just a sort of assumption that media people are invincible. Like there’s these irrelevant anime fanboys I should spend absolutely 0% of my brain ever thinking about on Twitter who are convinced I hate men because I don’t think fangirls should be bullied for liking Lando Norris or think their shit edge lord memes are funny. I should not care about this, it shouldn’t bother me and the more I let it the more they crow about getting rent-free space in my head and like. Fine, you fuckers, you have managed to irritate me. Because I’m just trying my fucking best and having a seriously bad time doing it and when I was on an upwards career trajectory I could ignore it but right now everything feels like a kick. Like if I can’t get the jobs, do I have to take the bullshit?

When I got people nitpicking my Tumblr I stopped posting here because it made me so miserable. I had to basically get off the whole internet because I was so wound up because if I had an up moment and said something enthusiastic, it felt like it would get chewed out and dissected and disapproved of. And I’m nowhere near as famous as Will, obviously so I do get that he feels very under it.

And he loves being online and interacting with people and being able to be meme-y and jokey and a bit more human and sympathetic than some other presenters, a little less hardline masc in the traditional F1 sense than the strict shirts-and-slacks Sky Sports team. So when that then turns into something miserable it’s like well how much fucking more of me are you going to take: I can’t work or work is complicated, can’t tool around online...

So yeah. I do get that Buxton is Going Through It. And I’ve used examples of me there because I don’t know what’s going on in his head and I’d rather not speculate but to give you an idea of how it is.

Will’s a nice person, he’s not as educated on social issues as, idk, me or Chainbear or whoever but he is a long way ahead of a lot of F1 and I also get that it’s been very distressing in the last few months having to argue with colleagues and discovering the true, unpleasant colours of people you know.

So I have a lot of sympathy for him. I have to walk away from the internet a lot at the minute, which is really hard when we all live on it all the fucking time and it’s like ok taking a break to maybe speak to friends and oh fuck here I am again in a Grandpa Simpson taking his hat off gif loop.

Anyway, short version: lot of people really going through it right now. I really hope Will can get some support and also maybe someone to do his social media for him for a bit, which sucks because he obviously enjoys it but like, I think I would if I was in a position to right now. Even though people’d probably phone the police in suspicion I’d been kidnapped when my tweets started being spelt right and shit.

*Dan is literally called Dick Tantrum in the paddocks and by his engineers so Will was actually right that it’s a nickname. Not a nice one but there it is.

#f1 asks #work asks

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peculiar-shardscape · 3 years

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Honestly y’all are too awesome to be here and I can’t believe how supportive you guys are for me. I might. Make a mini vent-ish ramble idk.,

I’ve been enjoying everything I’ve done for a while, but seeing as devs are becoming slightly more interactive towards me and seeing my content and all, it’s given me massive anxiety as to whether they actually enjoy the things I make or if they’ll be secretly bothered that it’s “not canon” or whatever. I have a LOT of comfort things, comfort characters, comfort ships, comfort hcs and everything

I’ve just. The thought that the PRAF series getting a new team working on new things, creating even more canon stuff, I’ve been too afraid that my “non-canon” stuff will be shown off someday and. Someone will probably throw 7 paragraphs into my inbox as to why it’s “fake” and “not canon.” My fanbase grows each month and it. It’s actually scary for me.

I’m actually friends with a lot of popular people (Guy Monochrome with 5k subs is the most well known), and so I know how it feels to have a large fanbase. Toxicity, people that think they’re always right, hate, etc. Sure I’ve dealt with a lot of hate in the past, but if I end up hitting a massive milestone, I’m paranoid the hate will only peak someday.

I’ve been too afraid to share my own fancontent (aus, ships, hcs) since all this has come to mind. People will see this child on a tumblr site, in a massively big fanbase. They will send asks, annoying them and possibly harassing them over all the things they enjoy all because it’s “wrong” or fake.” I don’t feel like anything I make is right anymore because once afcos is released, there’s a high possibility majority of the things I own will all be thrown out the window like nothing.

I know I mentioned this before, and it’s something I find incredibly personal to me. I can NOT accept Laoin nor Evon to be female characters! It doesn’t work with me whatsoever, because they’re both my MAJOR COMFORT KINS! I tried looping my way around it, thus giving Laoin the “demiflux” label so I can just say “He’s not actually female.” EVON on the other hand. My comfort hc is the fact he’s a TRANSMALE! You can see where I’m going with this, right?

I get it. The Points themselves are non-binary, but just an fyi, excluding Mason/Anshine, literally NONE of the prepoints were canon to begin with! I enjoyed everyone’s different designs and versions of how they interpreted the prepoints, and as soon as they released the official refs, I was Not happy.

And it hurts more, because of all this, I was afraid I’d be the ONLY person to have these thoughts. I thought I was selfish for even thinking like this! Irl school, everyone’s been indirectly calling me selfish and inconsiderate of others, and that’s currently how I feel about everything now! All my thoughts towards a whole new canon are both excited for a new awesome game release, yet devastated about all my fancontent being thrown to waste like nothing.

In short: I’m afraid. I’m afraid of everything I do and make now, because of the possible consequences I could be put in. It’s why I couldn’t make myself make any fancontent. My book hasn’t been touched in a whole day, and I’m not sure if I can even touch my book until I regain my confidence in drawing again. I’m. So sorry for being like this.

You all know how I am. And I’m so genuinely appreciative over how much you’ve all supported me, regardless of what hell I’ve been through. I love you all a lot, and I’m happy you all enjoy the content I used to enjoy making. I appreciate you all so much.

However, I’m not ready to create anymore new fancontent as of now. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to. But I appreciate all you’ve said to me, and I love you all

Thank you

#pinty prints #minivent #longpost

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sketchyracoon · 4 years

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I may have lost any semblance of control on my life i had before. Among Us AU details under the cut.

Many of them have accents. I had the idea that they were from a big like multi-country space project and fell in love with the idea of the American(s) on the ship just startling the others because of things like the lack of bidets in the US.

Red (Elliot) is 38, is a Texan and you can tell he says Ya'll as a descriptor and many of the others are slightly fearful of the way he mashes words together. his whole personality can be summed up with "I'm a cowboy baby" and the fact that he's angy.

If I'm honest he is the only American on board that really startles the other crewmates even the other Americans are like "hey dude chill".

Orange (Herbert) is 27 probably from France (haven't really decided yet) and he was more confident before shock horror bad things happened to the whole crew. (More on that at five). Herbert is also very easily overwhelmed, he tries to pay attention but is often confused. I’ve also decided to change the egg on his head to be a hat in the future but I decided that after I drew the egg.

Pink (Eun-Jung) is 29, South Korean but he got some schooling in Britain and has probably traveled a lot. He looks soft but he can and will throw a mean punch. He and Herbert have crushes on each other but they kinda put it to the side when shit went down. There have been many times however when Eun-Jung has sat down with Herbert and calmed him down and dried his tears.

Green (Philip) is one of the younger crewmates being 22, he's a very studious lad he loves adventure novels and always wanted to go to space.

Especially after watching shows and reading books about space. He keeps trying to get together group DND nights but it's very hard for him to cater to everyone's interests cause he's the kind of DM that wants everyone to have fun but he also has a lot planned for a session but nothing ever happens because everyone is always goofing off. He still has fun tho and so does everyone else.

White is Angie, If I'm honest I named her that because of the halo she's wearing, and I thought it'd be funny. She is a not so single once single mother who lost her husband when her kid was born. She used to live in England but moved to Ireland for new scenery and for the space project.

She and black (Jolene) met in school and quickly fell in love. They Are Married! And the whole crew hates (loves) how sappy they are. Angie is stubborn and strong but also very kind and level-headed, she's not easily overwhelmed like Herbert is but when she does get overwhelmed, she doesn't crumble like he does. Doesn't mean her wife doesn't comfort her tho.

They both are in their late forties (Angie is 48 and Jolene is 49) and I named Jolene, Jolene because of the song. Jolene is Irish btw idk if I made that clear. And she is the definition of a chaotic lesbian, Angie tries very hard to keep her air of being a distinguished bi but she's also very chaotic at heart. They both are greying hair-wise but Jolene keeps covering it up with dye. Jolene thinks her wife looks very elegant with the white in her curls. Jolene can be summed up with that one Tumblr post story about a girl who told a girl she liked that "her air must be mad crisp" because of her plants.

Cyan (Tea) is Scandinavian and listen this like Eun-Jung's name is where is gets shaky google wise, and if this name isn't really a Scandinavian than I guess it's just an eccentric nickname. (I’m assuming it’s pronounced like the drink but if I’m wrong sorry) She is NERDY AND PROUD, but like not movie nerdy girl I mean genuinely weird nerdy. I guess technically everyone is a little nerdy in this crew but she's a feral kind of scientist. She is technically the captain of the ship because of her science background and her previous work with the Scandinavian branch of the space mission. Her goggles are prescription. She is 36 and has a little crush on the resident father of two purple (Perry).

Perry is a loving dad and all-around kind dude, he fathers the group sometimes intentionally. Often taking control of making food, and sometimes the group meetings, even tho technically he's not in charge. He's an open ear to the entire crew and he loves his two kids so much. He doesn't talk much about how he and his Ex split up but it's clear that he and his kids are happier without her. He Kinda likes Tea back a little but he's so busy being a good dad that he doesn't know that. He's often found baking for everyone and is in fact the culprit behind the extra five pounds everyone gained when joining the ship. Perry is 32. His family is from India and he visited his extended family there a lot but he was born and raised in the UK.

Blue (Liz which is short for Elizabeth) is not the greatest with people, she tries her best but she often comes off weird she's 51, one of her hobbies is learning and practicing different rules to fighting styles. She’s trying to teach herself taekwondo but the lack of instructor and need to use downloaded videos is holding her back. She's got some skill in boxing and ran a self-defense course back on earth. Her entire class was sad to see her go but the respected her decision and on the off days that the ship gets reception to radio back earth or other ships she makes sure to message them back with well wishes.

Yellow (Zack) is a little shit lord, he is the youngest on crew at age 19. He got in through a series of events up to and including the fact that his parents were exasperated by him and that his Aunt Liz (who he calls Aunt Lizzy) telling them that they were short a crewmate. the previous yellow left and they were having trouble getting a fit for the crew's specific needs, everyone else was on different crews and couldn't leave to fill in their gap. They were planning to leave with nine people when Zack reluctantly signed up. He was 18 at the time he first signed up and after a year of training, he was greenlit just in time for the mission.

He doesn't really get along well with anyone but he slowly opens up to the crew overtime. He got labeled as a problem child because of undiagnosed ADHD and focus problems and by the time he was diagnosed it was too late and all of his teachers had basically given up on him.

The entire crew tho is cool with it because many of them are neurodivergent. Liz and Zack are the other Americans of the crew. But Elliot is the only one who is not bi/multilingual. Unless you count Texas accent as a language which a many of the crew jokingly do. In which case he is fluent.

But then disaster struck, after a few months of bonding and growing close as a found family people started to die. After some trial and error, they found out that Herbert and Zack were behind it. Liz and Eun-Jung being two of the few remaining both reacted differently Eun-Jung was controlled anger barely keeping it together and Liz was deeply disappointed, she wanted better from her nephew.

What was weird tho was after ejecting the pair their display panels confirmed that they were "imposters" and now that they thought about it it was weird that they were all locked to this one specific floor of this ship. but no matter that was a thought for another day. now able to go to the lower floors the remaining crew mates all went to bed.

The next morning however everyone was back and alive not even a scar remaining, even the imposters. returned. After a lot of shouting (mainly from Elliot who was pissed about being stabbed) the crew started to reluctantly trust what Hubert and Zack were saying that they didn't want to hurt or kill any of them but something made them and it was like they were in a haze.

It was only directly after a kill that they could snap out of it and control themselves briefly (kill cooldown) before they lost control again. Since then they've been stuck in this sick loop where they all keep taking turns being stuck as imposter killing each other. At first when it happened again, they thought it was Herbert and Zack again but once it didn't stop anything and the ship told them that they weren’t imposters.

They realized that it was randomized. Overtime they learned the rules. Only Imposters can access vents, the kill count, that they can then follow around and do things as ghosts after thy get murdered, etcetera. But one thing they didn't realize was the punishments.

Overtime as they each tried to break the rules by, revealing themselves as imposter, trying desperately hard to go pacifist, or any number of other things like trying to remove their helmets, or talk on comms before emergencies on meetings they were punished.

Philip is now growing plants off of himself. Eun-Jung has a similar punishment but it's solely cherry blossoms. Herbert is stuck killing everyone by eating them with a giant mouth from his stomach. I don't know Elliot’s punishment yet but the thought to make him Texan squared did cross my mind.

Angie is turning into one of those rad many-eyed angels from Dante's inferno. Jolene is now growing goat horns and her eyes are now goat-like. And Idk what other punishments to give Tea, Perry, Liz, and Zack, I want them to be related to the hats and stuff you can wear in game like some of the others but how to you punish some one using a banana? Or two kids? Or googles? I’ll probably come up with something later especially since they are all mostly hidden by the suits, that means that conceivably their punishments are hidden by the suits.

#among us #among us ocs #my art #i've lost it. bye ya'll I'm lost in the sauce #i'#I spent so much time while i drew them thinking of their dynamics and stuff and how the universe would work for optimal angst

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thesaltyace · 3 years

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big rant/ramble below, you can safely ignore and move on to the next post in your feed.

Urgh

I shared the results of that autism screener with a quasi-friend who I thought would be "safe" (we used to work together and we connected over his being gay and me being visibly queer) but his response was blergh

Everyone has hints of autism.

okay yeah but this isn't just *hints* of autism. I'm answered yes to symptoms I've had since I was a kid that I've learned to mask or work around as an adult. But I still struggle with them.

He pointed out that he sees me as more ADHD than ASD.

Yeah, fair, and I'd need to see a professional to try to distinguish if my symptoms are ADHD, ASD, or both.

You don't hit the three prongs needed for a diagnosis.

But.... but I do. And the stuff I dealt with as a kid is still stuff I deal with today. I just mask it better. A short and not exhaustive list:

As I kid I had trouble interacting with peers. I didn't have friends, really. I didn't know how to make friends and I didn't try terribly hard to. I acquire friends when someone else "adopts" me and decides that we are friends. And once I became an adult, I have almost never had friends of my own - I share a friend group with my spouse who we're primary connected to through him. I'm okay with that. Maintaining a friendship entirely on my own power sounds impossible and exhausting.

I was okay with not having friends, I liked being alone, but my mom insisted on me being social. She made me join things so that I would have a list of people to invite to parties. I'd honestly have preferred a day of doing stuff I like or just a couple friends. As an adult, I want to be alone on my birthday. I will celebrate with certain friends, separately, usually over a quiet meal. That's it.

I had trouble understanding sarcasm and figurative speech. Like, I understand it now but I still think most figurative speech is annoying. I've been told the way I deliver sarcasm is weird, too.

I liked memorizing movies and quoting them start to finish, I thought it was fun but everyone else thought it was weird. I continued to do this into adulthood but I only quote aloud when I'm alone. Alamo Drafthouse quote-alongs are the BEST. I don't do this with every movie, either, just ones I really like.

Okay actually I also liked to listen to the same album or, in some cases, the same song over and over until I was sick of it (and sometimes even after that point). I mean, just endlessly looping on repeat. Not interspersed with other songs. I do this as an adult a LOT because it's easier with headphones to do this without annoying everyone else around you. Like, often it's fine for me to just put a playlist on shuffle, but I get into Moods where I just want the one album/song over and over. Yesterday I listened to Wellerman about 50 times in a row and only stopped because I had to get up and do something else and that song wasn't "good" for whatever I got up to do.

My special interest as a kid was cats. Literally everything cats, all the time - I sought out obscure facts and could tell you the difference between similar species, and wanted cats involved in literally everything I did. Adults laughed it off as childhood obsession. I was also pretty obsessed with the solar system. I thought asking my peers, as a trivia question, which of Jupiter's moons had its own asteroid (Io, in case you were wondering) was appropriate and interesting and was confused that they didn't know that. That was in fifth grade.

I watched the weather channel for fun. I would watch it for hours and absorb the weekly forecast info just... for fun? I never used it, could never tell you if you should dress a certain way or bring an umbrella or whatever. Everyone thought it was weird.

I was a know-it-all and literally could not stop myself from bluntly correcting people who were wrong. Didn't know or care that it was "rude". I'm still that way but I've learned how to sometimes swallow the urge long enough to find a more tactful way to point it out (but often fail).

I could read on my own before kindergarten, used vocabulary beyond what one would expect for my age, and had a special interest in spelling and grammar throughout my school years. I did not understand how other people weren't interested in learning about it and getting it right. I read at an undergrad level by 4th grade.

I hated loud noises and often covered my ears to block out irritating sounds. I could also hear high pitched noises that even other kids didn't seem to hear (or at least weren't bothered by them). Too much noise sent me into an internal meltdown, I'd just kinda shut down because I couldn't deal with it.

Textures and pressure on my skin bothered the absolute fuck out of me - sock seams, certain fabric materials, socks that weren't equally elastic, one shoe tighter than the other, tags.... all of that. (Also, fun anecdote I just unlocked - when I was 4 or 5 my grandmother started letting me use the soft silk sleep shirt she had as a young woman because I preferred it to anything else. Soft, smooth, no irritating qualities. Bliss. I wanted to wear it all the time.)

Don't get me started on food. Until I was in COLLEGE I mostly subsisted on pasta with either butter or alfredo sauce and chicken. I would eat other things, but pasta and/or chicken was (and still is) my biggest safe/comfort food. I'd eat other stuff mostly if I could control the balance of ingredients, get it made plain, or could confirm the texture wouldn't be offensive (so, like... plain burgers, plain cheese pizza, grilled cheese, mashed potatoes, etc.) I cannot stress this enough - from childhood through COLLEGE I did this. As a kid my mom had to make me a completely separate dish most nights to get me to eat something. My spouse was horrified at what little variety I ate. The only reason I eat so much variety now is that he knows what I do/don't like and tells me in advance if I'll find a texture or taste offensive. Of course, rather than wanting consistent texture like I did when I was younger, I now seek as much texture as possible (so long as they aren't Bad textures) so.... that's fun. But yeah most of my objections to Yucky foods is due to T E X T U R E. Even if I like the taste, the texture overrides it all.

I prefer animals to people. I will seek out animals and interact with them instead of people in the same room. And will pointedly focus on the animal to avoid interacting with people.

I'm perfectly happy with only myself for company. Being with just my spouse counts as me being "alone" though. Always has. I just realized last night that it's because I do minimal to no masking around him because he's a safe person to unmask with and always has been. Never batted an eye at the weird shit I do beyond asking questions about what I was doing or why. And then just "Okay."

Okay honestly just the fact that I want to vent into the void of tumblr instead of actually discussing this with a person - even my spouse! - pretty effectively shows how little it occurs to me to interact with other people directly. o_0

And there are so many more things that I won't list here because I could just go on and on. And like, sure, some of this may certainly overlap with ADHD but my point is that I have enough to point to ASD that it doesn't feel like having a "hint" of autism. And who knows - maybe it is mostly just ADHD and CPTSD stuff interacting in weird ways. Could be!

But just because I can make small talk and make eye contact and do the "normal" shit and I can interact "normally" doesn't mean I LIKE it. I had to LEARN to do those things to avoid having bad social interactions. When I'm by myself or with my spouse, I behave very differently than I do around anyone else. ANYONE. It's not just slightly changing my behavior depending on who I'm with - it's completely suppressing how I naturally would do things if left to my own devices.

Like, the things we recommended to our autistic students who wanted to know how to interact in ways that would help them blend in/be accepted by others ARE THE EXACT THINGS I ALREADY DO. Like, it did not occur to me at the time that neurotypicals literally do not have to think about doing those things. I thought, ah, these students just need to be told what the tricks are. Other people figure these tricks out on their own. It did not occur to me that other people, in fact, do not learn these tricks because they naturally do that behavior. They do not have to actively think about learning the trick, period. I literally thought other people also have to think as hard as I do about interactions. Evidently not.

So yeah, I'm feeling a little upset about the reaction I got from him because I'm like.... honestly, a diagnosis of ASD wouldn't change a lot about how I do things or think of things. But it would make me feel better about interacting with and participating in autism-related stuff if I am actually autistic. I realize I can use the resources and supports meant for ASD regardless, and for formal supports anything I can access due to my ADHD diagnosis likely covers anything I'd need for ASD. But having a diagnosis opens up more community. Right now I'm like yeah I'm ADHD but I totally relate to this ASD content. But I'm not going to interact much because I feel like I don't have the right to join in since idk if I do have ASD.

idk I have a lot of feelings. I had a bad email about the trans insurance coverage thing yesterday and I'm not in a great headspace, but finding out me and my spouse both scored very high on the autism screening stuff was honestly a high point because we ended up sharing a lot of how we view and interact with the world that was very eye-opening about why we interact the way we do, how we relate to others (and how other people think we're weird for how we relate to others), and just...everything. And having someone be skeptical after I've spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that I DON'T have ASD only to conclude that at the very least, I should probably be evaluated because I can't reasonably rule it out. Like, most people do not wonder if they have autism. The fact that I am spending this much time looking into it and trying to find examples to disprove it only to find I overwhelmingly can't in virtually every single diagnostic category.... just..... dismissing it outright is kinda hurtful.

Like, I recognize that ADHD symptoms overlap a fair bit, but seriously. My spouse (who definitively does not have ADHD) scored almost identically to me and we vibed on almost everything when we compared answers. We see most things similarly. We have similar areas of confusion about other people and for fundamentally similar reasons. I can't imagine all of the stuff that points to ASD for me is just ADHD in disguise, not when I vibe THAT HARD with someone else. Spouse does not vibe with me on ADHD content. At all. He can appreciate it since he does live with me, after all, and observes whatever's being discussed. But he doesn't vibe with it. He vibes with autism content, though. And I vibe with both.

idk this rant ended in rambling and I'm just going to go listen to Inside on repeat for a couple hours while I try to calm down a bit. o_0

#rant over #for now #I've actually been listening to Inside for the last twenty minutes already lol #maybe I'll try to nap #idk #blergh #yay Shit is playing now and I'm like LOL cause I did wake up at 11:30 feeling like shit #woot #what a bop #I'm like hell yeah you get it #let's vibe

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bellamyblake · 4 years

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Hi Iva! First of all I would like to say - thank you for loving Bellamy so much, it means so much to me to read your posts and feel the same love I have for him. The way I wholheartedly with your every word... about his tragic life, his immense love, everything. On the other hand, you must hurt a lot judging by myself - I honestly cannot stop crying multiple times a day. I do not know how to make the pain stop. I dont know how much more I can handle, its not getting better but actually worse p1

P2 when I think about in details about his life like you did – his life had no happy beginning, or middle, and certainly not the end. Maybe only as a baby boy before O was born. I don’t know how to deal with the fact the character that I genuinely believe had it the worst ended up with the worst possible ending as a reward for honestly trying to do better. Like if he at least experienced love and understanding from O or SOMETHING… but she never got to tell him sorry for beating him up,

P3 that now she understands what he did for her… I am gonna go crazy over this, honestly. I wanna stop crying and enjoy fanfiction with much better ending for him. Where should I find solace? Was his death at least quick, maybe he did not have time to think about what happened? Is there an afterlife where Aurora waited for him? Was that what I can hope for when Aurora was NEVER explained, she was not an alien so what was she? But he also sow Cadogan in the same scene and he was alive then?

P4 Should I watch 5x13 on loop to get in my head this was the ending? Should I teach myself to edit and do some manip for the ending? My only way of coping is seeing other people, blogs like yours that love him just as much. But I keep crying and feeling utterly miserable ☹I am 27 I never spend so much time loving any character (fun fact, It must be around 3 500 hours for me reading ff, watching the show and fan edits and tumblr posts). I know Bellamy will always and forever be the one beloved

P5 one beloved character of mine and no one will ever come close. Bellarke, the same – they were my OTP. The only one. I need to do something about this cause I am loosing my damn mind… I could handle almost anything, I would cry, yes, but I was absolutely sure of one thing - no matter their ending, sad or happy, in some sense they would do it together… and we got THAT. Does anything help you? I am so sorry for dumping this on you but reading your posts - its like hearing my soul.

Hello!

First of all thank you for the kind words and for enjoying my blog so much.

I really do love Bellamy Blake a whole damn LOT. Like a damn LOT hah. I think that’s pretty obvious by the posts I make even if they’re not as many lately because I’m mentally not doing well right now. But that same love you feel, I feel it too and I’m glad I’m not alone in this.

I also get angry too and I cry a lot still about the way things ended. I also have not spent that much time in my life invested in a fictional character before so this is a lot for me as well and I get how you feel.

You asked me if something helps and for me it helps a lot to write you know? Be it meta or fanfiction, I indulge myself a lot in writing.

It’s funny that even when I write fics I don’t write happy fics, you’d think that I’d make him absolutely happy in what I write but I don’t. But indulging yourself in a world of your creation with this character helps a lot. And it’s fun too, to do this, to build a world for him, a different one-be it with Clarke or with a family of his own or Idk just with anyone. Giving him love that he never had and joy he never felt. I think that helps me a lot and it helps me forget how he died and how much it hurts (I wanna say that even typing this makes me cry hah, so...).

I also like to rewatch some episodes that were more about him as a character and then meta in my head. That usually gets me sad too but it’s also exciting to think about some of the stuff that happened and dive in the psychologity of his character (which I do a lot) LOL. But that’s mostly painful. I don’t get many asks about him and meta stuff so I mostly do it in my head on my own and dive into the world of direction and how things were done and love making sense of them.

Headcanons are something I love doing too though I haven’t written (or posted) much lately. In fact I haven’t posted anything lately because Idk...I’m not sure that sharing everything you create is good these days. people got so judgemental over time, the way actors and cast are threated is horrible but it extends to the entire fandom and its participants so it’s ugly and dark and horrible and I think stops a lot of people from posting gifs or fics or anything at all. But that’s another subject.

So yes writing helps me a lot. Reading fics helps me a lot. I’m not sure what the recipe is here because honestly I am in the same boat as you. I love this character more than anything and any other that I’ve loved and been in a fandom before so...this is hard for me too. And it’s fucked up.

I also love making gifs for him though I don’t make anything good or special. Gifs I think can be lots of fun but also pain too-fun cause when you go to gif a moment you can rewatch half the episode (at least I do) and sad cause it can bring you some pain but at the end giffing is really Idk..rewarding. Except when people don’t reblog shit so that’s discouraging too hah.

I’m sorry I don’t mean to be a debbie downer.

To tell you the truth after years of being on here and in fandoms I realized this-I can create to soothe my soul from the pain, like from losing Bellamy but I don’t have to seek validation from people and post it. I can do it just to heal myself and not share it. When you share it what? You just get disappointed. That’s why I have 230 drafts. Half of them are unpublished headcanons. some of them are published fics with few readers or readers who yelled at me for writing sad stuff. the other half is stories i’ll never post. So I guess my advice is-

find something to get your hands on, to create, be it editing, giffing, writing, something to let the grief out, to soothe the wound inside you. and then you can decide if you want to share it or not. and even if you don’t it was inspired by the best character ever.

He was loved, he deserved more, he did. But you can create worlds where he has more.

He can be held by his mom as a baby, he can be tucked in, he can be climbing up her leg and reaching for her arms, he can be cranky when he had his first tooth, or sad when he had to go to day care, he can be scared before his first exam and anxious as he grew up. He can be having nightmares and not sleeping when O was born, he can be terrified and feeling alone. He can have friends and be hugged and loved and have a first kiss, he can live in a house by the ocean with clarke with two beautiful kids and a dog and a cat for her cause she loves cats. Or he can be alone curled up in his bed just crying his grief away.

He can be anything that you wished for him, anywhere you wished for.

Hope I helped some!

#answered #bellamy blake #the 100 #im sorry if i wasn't as helpful #i tried #hah #i think about him every day #and cry too #alwaysdreamingofmiracles

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dontgotothenetherworld · 4 years

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ap psychology

anonymous asked: Can I request readers putting all her studying off till the week before AP exams and she starts studying an unhealthy amount, like sometimes forgetting to eat all day because of it and even made herself sick from stress over it but reader refuses to complain because she did it to herself and Lydia's just there helping her review and making sure she takes time to care for herself ect? Bonus if Reader thinks she did bad and Lydia assuring her she did fine and has an 'i told you don't moment?

anonymous asked: Totally didn't request that bc that's my situation-

for some reason when i tried to queue this w/ the original ask, tumblr wanted to put the cut in the ask and i couldn’t delete it

this is out of date now, but i was uninspired to write for a hella long time sorry. also! i’m going to draw from my experiences w/ ap this year, and the only ap exam i had to take was psych, so that’s also going to be the case for reader :)

also, i feel like my lydia is a bit out of character? idk it’ll probably take a while to get back to the way i used to write her.

1303 words

cw: femreader. food

you cursed under your breath. months ago, months! you told yourself you would start studying for your ap exam. you only had the one exam to study for, so you told yourself that if you just did a little bit everyday, you would be fine.

but here you were, about three days until your ap psychology exam, and you hadn’t studied any of it. you had hardly even watched the videos your teacher had posted as the digital learning content. but to be fair, the stuff he was talking about in them were the last unit or two of psych, and you wouldn’t have to worry about them, because you weren’t going to be tested on them.

you groaned and dragged your feet downstairs, to where you hid your backpack. the friday weeks ago, when your school told everyone that classes would go digital for a few weeks because of the coronavirus, your teacher had come prepared. he gave everyone that showed up to class, which, granted, wasn’t that many but still- a huge packet covering everything that you had studied this year. it was some forty pages long.

okay, it was, like, thirty five because you crossed out the pages about personality and disorders. which was a shame, because those are the units that everyone takes psychology to learn about. no one goes, “oh boy, i can’t wait to learn about how to test if a baby has depth perception!” or “i can’t wait to learn about all the different types of visual illusions!” but whatever.

you flipped to page thirty five, to see how many questions you were in for. just over 250, except that’s counting all the charts as individual questions. yeah, that makes sense. one and a half pages of listing what researchers discovered what is equivalent to answering which cortex of the brain processes visual stimuli.

wait a minute. lydia was also taking psych. studying sucks, but if you could do it with your girlfriend, that’d be so much less painful.

you texted her, “hey lyds, have u finished the psych packet yet?”

”yea i finished it yesterday, why?” she texted back almost immediately.

shit. looks like you’ll have to suffer through this alone. “nvm”

you looked at the time, 1:46. damn, already? it felt like you had only just woken up. you made yourself a coffee, and set up shop on the desk you have never used in your bedroom, with laptop open beside you. you planned on googling everything, rather than going through your notes, mostly because you forgot where you put them, but this would still take ages.

an hour passed, and you felt like you were dying on the inside. if you had to answer one more question about behavioral psych, you were going to scream. behavioral psych is by far the worst part of psychology! watson and skinner be damned! people are people not some computer code! people have feelings! you can’t just ignore them! and the feeling you were feeling right now was not a good one!

you wanted to stop, but you weren’t sure if you stopped now if you’d be able to finish the packet. so you kept on going.

you went another five hours, taking five minute tik tok breaks every hour to keep you sane. you looked at the clock, and realized you hadn’t eaten anything today. you grabbed a box of cheez-its and made your way back upstairs, and went back to work. this time, you ate a cheez-it every time you finished a question, or you filled out a row in a chart.

you didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you woke up in the morning with about half the packet filled out. considering the exam was in one day, and four-ish hours, you thought that was good.

as you made your morning coffee, you checked the messages lydia had sent you. “are you doing okay? normally we talk a lot but…” “wait, are you working on the study guide?” “y/n! please take breaks! remember! you need food!” “and water!”

you sent back, “if i eat my cheez-its, and i drink my coffee while i study, then i don’t have to take breaks.”

you went back to your desk, and plugged your phone in across the room so you wouldn’t be distracted. but also because you forgot to charge it before you passed out, so it was at three percent, because apparently you had kept it open to tik tok all night, and the video just kept looping. oops.

for a while, the studying seemed easier. you felt like you had less to do, and you didn’t need to worry about getting it done in time, because you had more than enough of it. but because you didn’t need to rush, you became more productive.

you finished the second half of the packet by six that evening. you do admit, you got a bit lazy in the last few pages, but it was done!

shit. studying isn’t just writing stuff down, you have to read it over, right? you don’t really study that much.

but you decided to take an hour or two’s break for… breakfast? dinner? maybe even lunch? whatever, leftover pizza, because you had just only now just realized the intense rumbling in your stomach.

you checked your phone for the first time in hours. you were actually kind of proud of yourself. you usually were on your phone every waking hour, which was probably a problem, but you had shown enormous restraint… by spending every waking hour staring at your laptop. it’s all about choosing your battles.

you quickly dismissed some twitter notifications before tapping on a new message from lydia. “babe, i’m getting really worried about you, please call me when you see this.” you furrowed your brows. worried? about you? why?

you called lydia, and she picked up nearly immediately.

”y/n!” she gasped with relief, “don’t do that to me again!”

you felt stupid for wondering what she was talking about, but you kind of needed to know, “what do you mean?”

”you’ve been offline for hours, and i couldn’t get to you! and then when i heard what you were eating, that got me worried. have you eaten today?”

”three slices of pizza right now.” you swallowed a bite.

”is that your first meal today?”

”unless you count coffee, yeah. i’ll do better tomorrow, i promise. speaking of tomorrow, we’ve got the psych exam, and i need to keep studying. i’ll call after the exam, so like three?”

”y/n.”

”yeah?”

”you do realize this exam is online, right? and at home?”

”uh, yeah.” you swallowed.

”and you have both a laptop and a phone?”

”lydia, what are you saying?” cheating. she was definitely talking about cheating.

”i’m saying, that you don’t really need to know the definitions, because our dear old pal google can be there to help you out with those. and you’re smart, so i assume you know the concepts.”

”you think very highly, of me, my dear.” you took another bite of pizza. “so, what you’re saying is, i wasted two days studying?”

”yes, that is exactly what i’m saying.”

”shit. wait, why were you studying?”

”ugh, because i am nowhere near as good as you at being able to understand things.”

”you know, definitions explain the concept too.”

”what are you saying?” asked lydia.

”i think we’ve both wasted a lot of time studying when we didn’t need to.”

”fuck.” lydia breathed.

”yeah, we’re both idiots. do you wanna watch something on netflix? you haven’t finished parks and rec yet, right?”

”no, i just finished an episode before you called me.”

”which one?”

”season four, episode seven.”

”wait, is the next episode smallest park? we need to watch that, like, now.”

@meangirlsx @meangirlmurphy @eliza-is-confused @boredomimi @book--butterfly

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