#but I think after rising the fandom agreed on 'they' ???

[olderthannetfic]

Being a trans man and not being an anti is also isolating, which is part of why I think trans guys gravitate towards either being an anti or reposting anti posts. If you're not an anti, you get booted from discord servers, blocked on social media at best or sent misgendering rape threats, death threats and suicide bait by other trans men at worst, and now that I'm in college I've found IRL that not being an anti makes a lot of people in queer spaces available to the average college student incredibly uncomfortable. So you have to either be entirely alone - which is very difficult when you're young, queer, and just coming into your own identity - or you have to be around it a lot without saying a word. Agreeing with it at first wouldn't even be necessary. You just have to not say anything against it, and then you'll be able to be around other people.

It doesn't help that most trans men who get sucked into anti circles are teens at the time. There's 501 proposed anti-LGBT laws right now, not counting everything that has passed, the majority of it anti-trans. If you're a teenage boy seeing all this transphobia on the rise, you're going to feel powerless. Bullying people like antis do makes you feel power over at least a few people. Being told you can consume your way into being a good person via media intake makes you feel like you have power and control over at least that.

I was sucked in incrementally because I wasn't exposed to the more violent antis who fantasized about murder and hurting people for writing fiction, I met my only friend - who was an anti - after my dad had beaten me for coming out as trans, and I was sixteen. I got out when I was eighteen because once I went to live with my mom, a psychologist, she gently corrected me when I would say things that aren't based in fact. She pointed out how upset these people were making me. She taught me how to fact-check claims and look into the veracity of claims.

And when I tried to convey to my friends that no, what they were saying wasn't supported, they turned on me. Including the only person who had been there for me when I was hatecrimed, who had reached out to me specifically because she met me what day. I lost every friend I had in roughly 30 hours.

If I hadn't had a really great mom, a very intelligent rabbi who's well-versed in psychology and is a former lawyer who saw the "fiction made me do it" excuse used to defend heinous crimes and doesn't buy it, and an older half-sister who lived through people calling her a psycho lesbian because she's a lesbian who played D&D, listened to metal and dressed Goth in small-town Montana in the 80's/90's, I would have probably killed myself. Having those three people who accepted me and did not accept this extremist rhetoric kept me sane and repaired my self-esteem enough to keep me going.

But a lot of people don't have three adults who are intelligent, supportive, and know better than to fall for this faux-psychology. A lot of people don't even have one. Often, they have unsupportive people who also believe firmly in the faux-psychology of "if you watch a thing you'll do that thing IRL". So there's not only no one hauling them out of this, it's getting reinforced.

Being a non-anti who is a trans man gets me a lot of shit from a lot of people online and offline. (As other anons have mentioned during the ace discourse, online talking points come up on college campuses and in real life, because the internet is not an alternate dimension, it is something being used by the people around you who exist in the same physical space as you.)

A reality that I don't think people want to discuss is that trans men, just like all other people of all other genders, suffer a lot of psychological distress if they're put in a position where they have no support. I sure as fuck wasn't happy being in a position where I went from having tons of online friends, discord servers I could hang out in and fandoms I associated with good vibes to none of that, plus harassment, plus massive misgendering.

It's a lot less awful of an existence to be a trans man and an anti when you're young and need community and support than it is to not be an anti and be isolated. And humans gravitate towards the least awful option 99% of the time.

--

Yuuup.

Having some kind of real support network, usually offline but at the very least not randos you met a day ago on discord, is vital and is the difference between not only whether you rot in a pit of antidom forever but in stemming the massive flood of trans teen suicides. The overall queer rates aren't great, but the specifically trans rates... they're bad. They're so, so bad.

[fanofseabassanddorito]

Dear Chris Evans,

I’ve waited and watched. I’ve gone back and forth with Real vs PR. I’m just a fan, of your work, but I also because of what you seemed to stand for and acted like a real person. I think I’m done now.

There has been questionable ‘sightings’ even though you claim to want to be private. Your friends and hers have posted the two of you. You have posted her twice yourself. But then you seem to hide her. That isn’t a good look. If you are in love with someone, you don’t hide them because you want to be private yet leak photos and hints to keep your fans spiraling when you know how some can be.

We all know celebrities use social media for what they WANT fans to see. Why? Because they want privacy, as they should, to separate their work world from real life. I completely agree with doing so, BUT I don’t agree with going back and forth. You owe fans nothing except maybe the respect that goes both ways. After all, your fans have been the reason you have your paychecks. I think we deserve a little bit of respect not to be played by what you say in interviews vs. what you show yourself to be through your actions.

There are so many examples of couples being private but NOT hiding significant others like they are embarrassed to be seen. A real private couple does things together but do not post montages on their socials, like scare videos and couples pictures. People do not call paparazzi unless they want to be seen. A real private couple does still go to things together, they don’t hide but they don’t bring attention to themselves. Real private couples do not let things drop during a special date for something else. One example, the NYC pap walk on the day that Warrior Nun season 2 dropped right after SMA.

Tabloids run on things they are given. There have been more articles about you and this girl than Harry and Meghan, Jennifer and Ben, etc., etc., etc. your reps have never confirmed anything. IMDb does not list her as your wife. Your mother liked a tweet about the girl being racist.

I had no issues at first, thinking you wanted privacy, which I thought was a great idea, given your fandom. I gave you the benefit of the doubt for a good while. But then it seemed like her friends and yours, her mom, along with the likes on IG, proved this isn’t private. Certain social media sites have been the only ones to randomly get these pictures that are nowhere to be found. It’s only a few, and they usually come at specific times when there is doubt. Friends posted from Lisbon, Avengers in MA, and the wedding rumors began. I’m sorry, but when there is an NDA, then the wedding news should not have leaked because the NDA would cover that. And if you have to ask people to turn in their phones to attend, that’s rude and you’ve invited people you don’t trust.

Showing up to a convention, with a ring on but you can’t say her name. Just ‘Go Portugal!’ And then go on about Dodger.

Let’s not even get into photoshopped or not photoshopped because I don’t even know anymore.

I could go on and on but it saddens me. I cannot be a fan of someone just because of their projects, and that’s just me. I have kept quiet, because it’s none of my business what you do with your life. What is my business though, is who I give my hard earned money to. Barely getting by on what I make, medications and food for my kids continue to rise in cost, but they also enjoy Captain America because he seemed like a good guy in real life too. Now they come to me with things they’ve seen online like Captain America’s new wife nude in the shower. They have seen people posting about her friends and their previous tweets, and things they’ve said. Why? Because you have played games with your fandom and they got pissed and exposed things. Let’s be honest, kids get online and see things even if they aren’t supposed to. Luckily they didn’t see your ‘slip’ up, because your fans cleaned that for you quickly, but the shower pictures continue to be passed around. They also said in some of the pictures they saw you post that they thought you had a daughter but found out it was your girlfriend.

I would make sure you don’t have any more slip ups because I feel like your fans are limited at this point. The ones that see your work the day it comes out. That’s one reason why Ghosted flopped. Before this, your fans would have said you did wonderful even if you didn’t.

After the new picture of the two of you at the Globes after party, I CHOOSE to not be a fan and hand you my money. I know it isn’t much, but I will choose to spend it on a different movie or person at a convention. Maybe I just won’t have a favorite anymore because it seems like a lot just tell fans what they want to hear.

I don’t know if it’s Real or PR and don’t care but it’s the game you seem to be playing that I don’t like. I don’t care what people think of my opinion and have not posted anything about a side. I just know you look like such a hypocrite and lose fans by the hour now. So many blogs and pages that are team PR or Team Real and they argue over who is right and wrong, because you and everyone around you are playing with them. You are using them for free publicity and that is sickening. I didn’t believe it was happening and you were just trying to protect your love life. But, eventually, it was just so obvious with the tiniest bit of things creeping in on the same sites and coincidences on dates. Mostly, I just don’t want to watch all the drama that has become part of being your fan. I like to escape the real world by looking at my favorite celebrities and what they are up to or their movies etc. I don’t want to see the gross mess you have become. She looks like your daughter, so I choose to leave. You don’t know me or care because I’m just one fan, but I do know who you want people to see you as now and I don’t like this version. Be private or just don’t hide. Look happy, not miserable. Treat her like your love and wife, because I would never allow my boyfriend/husband treat me the way it appears you are treating her. To the public, she looks like a mail order bride that jumps as soon as you tell her too. It’s gross.

So, it’s been a long, fun ride being your fan until now. Enjoy traveling back and forth and wear sunscreen to the beach, because boy are you white. Research the word ‘privacy’ and maybe get those NDA’s to the people leaking things if you want privacy or take their phones from them when they are in your proximity. Invest in energy drinks next, she’s a lot younger and likes to travel and have sex (maybe check out her soft porn). Let Buddah know she did a film with a demon having sex with her. Maybe purchase a plane and get a pilots license, because older dogs don’t travel as well as they age and that’s a long ride to Portugal. Remind your wife to keep her clothes on and keep your 🍆 in your pants because I think Team Real is even over this mess and don’t want to see it. Thanks for the laughs and smiles over the years. I wish you luck and hope you’re happier than you actually look.

Sincerely,

An Ex-Fan of Christopher Robert Evans

[jessybarnes]

Bunker Nights

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Tags: Angst, mentions of past physical and emotional abuse, nightmares, panic attacks, eventual fluffy smut, and protective!Dean

Betas: @winecatsandpizza

Word Count: 4,667

Fic Aesthetic: Yours Truly

A/N: This is a repost from my old Tumblr account. I am in the process of transferring all of my fics over to this one. I hope you enjoy :)

One year.

It had been exactly one year since you ended it with Tyler and you still suffered from the aftershocks of the abuse. Even though your body and mind weren't subject to his fists or harsh words, you still felt worthless. Every day the memories of the torture you went through filled your mind.

The moment you met Sam and Dean in the shitty hole-in-the-wall bar, your personalities clicked. You needed a distraction and somewhere to live, and they needed help in their line of work. So when they offered to let you stay and help them hunt you agreed without hesitation. 

Finally, things seemed to be looking up for you, or so you thought. Two weeks after moving into the Bunker, the nightmares started.

These weren't just any run-of-the-mill bad dreams either. No, in these dreams, Tyler was torturing and trying to kill you. The vividness left you screaming and crying in your sleep almost nightly. The nightmares plagued your mind every time you went to sleep.

Neither of the brothers said anything to you about it, so you tried to pretend everything was fine. It was one of the hardest things you've had to do if you were being honest with yourself. The physical training alone sometimes brought on a panic attack. Even though you knew Sam and Dean weren't trying to harm you, your mind was starting to become your biggest enemy. 

You could tell they wanted to ask you about it, but they also knew that you weren’t one to talk about your past. The only thing you told them was that you and Tyler had a rough breakup. The thought made you laugh. Calling it a rough breakup was putting it very mildly. 

The day before your first hunt went surprisingly well. You went the entire day without any panic attacks or a questioning glance from either of the Winchesters. Even though you couldn’t remember the last time you slept, it didn’t stop you from humming in the kitchen while you cooked everyone dinner. Not to mention, the copious amounts of makeup you used to make yourself look less like a zombie. You made a mental note to get some more of the coverup you hid your dark circles with. 

Sam rounded the corner as you filled everyone’s plates, one of his eyebrows rising quizzically. 

“You’re extra happy tonight, Y/N.” 

You shrugged and continued to hum as Dean joined you both at the table. 

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you? You win the lotto or somethin’?”

You gave them both your signature eyeroll and took a pull of your beer. 

“What? I can’t be in a good mood now?”

Sam cleared his throat and looked over at his brother before staring back at you, concern evident in his eyes. 

“Of course you can, Y/N. Dean and I …  well, we’ve noticed that you’ve been having nightmares.”

Your eyes narrowed to thin slits. If this was their attempt to keep you from going on tomorrow’s hunt, then they had better think again. 

“I’m. Fine."

You enunciated your words, making sure to look at both of them sternly. Sam scoffed and set his drink down.

“I don’t call it fine when you wake up almost every night screaming, Y/N”

All you wanted was one day, one day where you could just forget about the grim night that awaited you.

“They’re just dreams, and I’m going tomorrow no matter what. I’ve been training for this day for months, and a stupid nightmare isn’t going to bench me.”

The hostility in your voice caught them off guard, and you suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. You pushed the contents of your plate around with your fork, the awkward silence becoming more deafening by the second. Dean was the first to break it, his soothing tone of voice practically making you sick to your stomach. You knew they wanted you to stay home, and it pissed you off even more that your brain somewhat agreed with them. 

“Look, Y/N, we just wa-”

You slammed your fists on the table cutting him off mid-sentence. 

“ENOUGH! I’m not here to be your charity case! I came here to hunt, not for you to feel sorry for me!”

Before either of them could say anything you had stormed down the hallway to your room. Slamming the door for good measure, you finally let yourself unleash the angry tears you’d held back. You knew they were only trying to help, but being pitied didn’t sit with you well. You’d grown accustomed to it after being with Tyler for so many years, and it made you feel like everyone was hypersensitive to your feelings. 

Once the tears stopped, you were left exhausted and feeling numb. Falling asleep right after an outburst would definitely bring on a nightmare, so you opted for a long hot shower instead. The moment the water cascaded over your skin you felt the stiffness in your muscles leave your body. You spent extra time massaging your scalp and even used your lavender soothing body wash to help calm your nerves. 

Finally, in your pajamas, you slid beneath your covers and sighed deeply. Couldn’t you just have one day where you didn’t have someone worrying about you? Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, you turned the bedside light off and let yourself fall asleep. 

Fear, raw fear coursed through your body as you ran. You’d just told Tyler you wanted to see other people and he’d tried to force himself on you so you’d stay. He pinned you against the wall, his breath reeked of stale beer as he kissed down your neck. The feeling of his lips made you shiver with disgust. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you raised your knee hard and fast hitting him right where it counted. 

Tyler yelled in pain as you broke free, running as fast as you could to the door. 

“Ow, FUCK! God Dammit, Y/N! Come back here you fucking bitch!”

Cold air hit your face as you ran barefoot into the woods behind your home. Branches hit your exposed skin leaving little cuts in their wake. You could hear Tyler shouting after you as you found refuge behind a big tree trunk. Your chest heaved and you shivered as you tried to stay still and quiet. 

Tyler’s footfalls and yelling became louder by the second, and you were sure he could hear the thundering of your heart. Just as you thought you were in the clear, strong arms boxed you in, the bark of the tree cut into your back as Tyler stared menacingly down at you. 

“There you are… you pathetic little slut. You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N. You should have just come home like the good little bitch you are and kept that pretty, little mouth shut.”

His fingers grazed your cheek briefly before his mouth was on your own, the taste of his tongue made you almost vomit. 

“Now, we could have done it back at the house, but seeing as how you made a scene, I think I’ll just take you right here.”

You tried to push, shove, kick, anything to get him off you, but it was of no use. He began to forcefully rid you of your clothes, and all you could do was scream. Scream for anyone to help you.

“Stop! Please, Tyler!”

Sobs racked your body as he pawed roughly at your skin. You could feel him now, shaking you, calling your name.

“No! Just leave me alone!”

You bolted upright in your bed, a cool sheen of sweat covered your skin and the sheets. Dean knelt in front of you, concern etched in his features. 

“Y/N! It’s okay! It’s me… it’s Dean.”

You blinked a few times before covering your face with your hands, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks. 

“D-Dean… I’m… I’m s-sorry for waking you up. I… It was just another d-dream.”

You tried to sound confident between your sobs, but you knew he wouldn’t buy it. Hell, even you knew how pathetic you sounded. Ever so slowly Dean sat on the foot of your bed, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at you with worry in his eyes. 

“C’mon now, Y/N. Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know that this is past the point of being 'just dreams'. I want to help you, but you’re going to have to work with me here.”

Using the back of your hands to wipe the loose tears away, you finally got the courage to look at him. His eyes were soft, kind even. The lopsided smile he gave you was the moment you finally let your walls down. Dean was here to help you, not judge you. 

“O-Okay… so umm… what do we do now? How do I stop dreaming of these… these horrible things?”

Dean started to move his thumb across your kneecap. In any other situation you’d be in a fit of laughter, but at a time like this, it was soothing. 

“Do you trust me?”

Those four words made you swallow thickly. Trust wasn’t something you took lightly, and Dean knew that. Sam understood this too, but Dean was different. He could count on one hand the people he had full trust in.

“Yes, of course, I trust you, Dean. Believe me, I want these nightmares to stop just as much as you do if not more.”

He stood and held his hand out to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you took it anyway and let him lead you to his room. The Bunker was eerily quiet at night, but you knew you were safe. You stood at the threshold, watching him as he padded across the floor to his bed. Your cheeks flushed as he rid himself of his t-shirt, leaving him only in his low-hanging grey sweats. You never let yourself think about Sam or Dean this way before, but you weren’t a prude. Every woman who came in contact with them knew how attractive they were. 

Dean cleared his throat bringing you back to reality.

“You comin’ sweetheart? I don’t bite...much.”

He winked, and you knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but who were you kidding? You couldn’t share a bed with Dean. That would make things weird, and that’s the last thing you wanted to do. Nightmares or not, you weren’t going to jeopardize your friendship. 

“Dean...I-I don’t think I can do this… I’m pretty worn out from crying so let’s just say we forget about this night and I’ll go back to my own bed… I’m sorry for being a burden. I’ll just.. I’m gonna go…”

You turned to leave, but not before Dean caught your arm. 

“Whoa whoa slow down, Y/N. What’s wrong? Is it because I took my shirt off? ‘Cause I can put it back on. I’m just used to sleeping without it on is all.”

You sighed and shook your head. 

“No, it-It’s not that. I just… I don’t want this to ruin our friendship ya know? I don’t want things to get weird or anything.”

Dean shook his head and chuckled. 

“So, don’t let it get weird.”

His look went back to firm before he continued. 

“Y/N, be honest with me. How long has it been since you slept, and I mean really slept?”

Your eyes went to your feet, your toe rubbing across a rough spot on the old floor. 

“I umm… I haven’t slept in four days…”

A flash of concern laced his features as he pulled you back into his room. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

He pulled back his covers and got under them before patting the other side of the mattress invitingly. 

“Come here, Y/N. You need sleep just as much as I do. I promise I won’t try anything with you. I mean, I’m a cuddler so, I might do that, but nothing else, I swear.”

You lowered your head in defeat and crossed the room before climbing into bed next to him. He carefully wrapped his arm around your waist, feeling you tense a little, before relaxing. Neither of you talked, but there really wasn’t any need to. You already felt more at ease in Dean’s arms. The smell of his shampoo and pheromones calmed you. Mere minutes later, his breathing evened out, and his light snoring filled your ears. Moments later, you were asleep. 

It became a routine that none of you spoke about. Every night, you would get ready for bed in your room and slip into Dean’s, silently climbing into bed beside him. True to his word, he was a cuddler but instead of the apprehension you’d expected at his touch, you only felt warmth and safety.

He was never inappropriate either. His hands stayed firmly in the safe zones, holding you around your middle if you decided that spooning was the position for you; his lower half was always carefully angled away when you woke up. If you slept curled into his side, he kept his hand on your shoulder or waist, never anywhere else.

The nightmares weren’t dispelled so easily. But being with Dean, they were normally stopped before they were over - he was a naturally light sleeper and the slightest twitch in your slumber had him waking you with gentle reassuring murmurs.

It was three weeks before your first night with no memories assaulting you. You woke with your face against Dean’s bare chest - you’d fallen asleep there the night before. His skin was warm under your cheek and you sighed, closing your eyes and allowing the haze of sleep to keep you still for a little longer.

“You slept well,” he muttered without opening his eyes and you smiled.

“No nightmares,” you whispered.

“Good.” Dean yawned, stretching his arms up. “I think I slept pretty well too.”

The covers slipped down with his movement and you couldn’t help it; your eyes went south to the straining erection that was fighting against the elastic of his pajama pants.

His hand wasn’t fast enough to snatch the covers back up and when you raised your head to look at him, his face was beet red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “s’morning and everything… y’know.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, patting his chest.

“It’s not,” Dean grunted, clutching the covers over his lap, “you didn’t want this to get weird.”

“You having a…” you swallowed, unsure how to phrase it, “an erection, isn’t weird. It’s perfectly natural.” With a shrug, you slid your eyes away from his, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’d say it’s a compliment.”

He blinked, processing what you’d said before his mouth set in a thin smile. “Can’t help what happens when I sleep next to a beautiful woman.”

You were sure your face was about to burst into flames and you giggled. “Now you’re making it weird.”

Dean smirked - not one of those sarcastic expressions, more playful, devilish. The way you expected he’d look at a woman he wanted to -

“Besides,” you added hurriedly, shifting a little way away from him, “I’m not your type.”

“Who says?” he challenged and you pulled back, frowning.

Dean moved, pushing himself up with his arm. “You say you don’t wanna ruin our friendship but I can’t keep spending the night with you warm next to me and pretending I’m not craving you in every way possible.”

His declaration left you speechless - what were you supposed to even say to that?

Thank you?

Dean chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered and you were struck by the thought that no man should ever look that pretty when asking that question. With scruffy bed hair and sleep lines on his face, Dean managed to look like he’d fallen out of a GQ photoshoot.

Your reply, when you finally forced it out, was barely a squeak.

His lips were soft when they pressed against yours but you couldn’t relax. Your entire body was stiff with trepidation; you felt hot and cold all at once and it took only seconds for Dean to notice your tense posture.

Breaking away, he cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb down to rest on your chin, making your eyes meet his.

“Talk to me,” he urged softly.

The temptation to shut off, to not tell him anything, warred with the need to spill your illogical shame for what had happened. You knew Dean would never blame you but seeing the pity in his eyes would be unbearable.

But he deserved to know what he’d been protecting you from. At least, in part.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve,” you took a shuddering breath, dropping your chin away from his hand, “since I’ve been with anyone. And the last time wasn’t…” Your eyes closed and you tried to forget the rough touch on your skin.

Dean’s hand moved, resting on your hip and the warmth of his touch seeped into you, forcing you to look at him again, letting his gentle touch replace the horror from before.

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you,” he coaxed, smiling softly. “I could never hurt you.”

What you feared most was nowhere to be found in his face. His sincere green gaze focused on you, filled with nothing but lust and affection.

You moved closer, startling him with a chaste kiss, your little moan swept away by his hum of appreciation and when he tugged you closer, you moved with him easily, losing yourself in the warmth of his skin.

Dean didn’t push, letting you set the pace and you were content with kissing, feeling his hands roam your body. You licked into his mouth, breaking only for air; you weren’t paying much attention to the way you pinned him back onto the bed, straddling his lap so you could kiss him and run your hands over his solid chest and stomach.

He laughed, arching when your fingers caught a ticklish spot, which only prompted you to do it again.

“Quit it,” he chuckled, grabbing at your hands but keeping his touch light.

Dragging your right hand to his lips, you sucked in a breath as he kissed each fingertip, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

He continued down over the palm of your hand, tracing the throb of your heartbeat to your wrist. By the time his soft lips reached the inside of your elbow, you were practically mush - before he could continue, you used your free hand to cup his face.

“Later,” you promised.

Dean’s eyes sparkled as you rolled your hips, reminding him of the erection straining at his pants. “Fuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back, “don’t do that.”

“Why?”

The tone of your voice had him narrowing his eyes at you. “Because if you do, I might not be able to help myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

Dean pushed himself up onto one hand, abruptly enough that you squeaked and giggled, smiling when he used the other hand to cup the back of your neck and draw you in for a deep kiss.

“Do you want me as much as I want you, princess?”

You nodded, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise, his nose squished against yours.

“You know you can tell me to stop at any time, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, initiating another kiss, dragging your tongue over his.

Shifting his weight so his back was straight, Dean’s hands landed on your hips, grinding you down harder against his cock. His fingers trailed up underneath the thin tank top you’d worn to bed; he groaned when his thumbs brushed the underside of your bare breasts.

You lifted your arms, letting him pull the top up over your head, giving him full access to your breasts and Dean leaned in, brushing his nose across the top of one.

“You’ve got no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmured and you smiled, folding your hands around the back of his head as he started to worship your tits with his tongue.

His cock was twitching against your core and Dean grunted, pushing one hand underneath the covers to shove his pants down.

“Sorry, it’s getting a little uncomfortable down there,” he joked, resuming his attention to your nipples and you gasped when his teeth grazed one solid peak teasingly.

The sudden desire to feel his skin on yours was a full-body craving; you shifted and pushed at your shorts, managing to drag them down without dislodging him.

The sound Dean made when you were finally perched nude in his lap was only amplified when you pushed him back, using your feet to shove the covers down. His cock was warm and throbbing against your bare slit and you whimpered, grinding against him and he broke away from your breast, groaning loudly.

“Fuck, Y/N -”

“Sssh,” you ordered, sliding down his body until you were straddling his thighs, wrapping one hand around his shaft before you could stop and think about it.

Dean’s chin tilted up and the veins on his neck popped with the strained angle of his neck, a low moan accompanying the bob of his Adam’s apple when you licked the tip of his cock.

He kept his hands at his sides, clenching them in the sheets, giving you all the room you needed. It wasn’t something you had an entirety of experience in but Dean seemed happy enough to let you explore, finding the sensitive spots at the base of his length. When you cupped his balls with your other hand and fondled them gently, Dean emitted a noise of pure lust and warmth swelled in your core in response.

Stroking him slowly, you watched a bead of precum seeping from his slit; the urge to taste it was more than you could ignore. The salty tang was worth the way Dean’s entire body twitched and he looked down at you, tucking his chin into his chest.

“You know there are limits to torture, right?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing to stroke him as he moaned under his breath. “Jeez, Y/N, you’re gonna… fuck…”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” you chided, your gaze fixed on the way his cock fit in your hand. Your fingers didn’t quite touch either side, not until you reached the slightly flared head and you suddenly wanted to know what it felt like to have him buried inside you.

The thought was enough to provoke a sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and Dean groaned as you rutted against him, barely acknowledging your own movement. 

A tiny voice in the back of your head stilled your movements, doubt settling in the pit of your belly. Shouldn’t you be frightened of this? After… after him, there hadn’t been anyone and this felt like something that should be shaking you to the core.

But all you could feel was pure adrenaline and desire pumping through your veins; everything was focused on the way Dean felt underneath you, the warm weight of his cock as you stroked him, and the sounds of pleasure he was making.

“Dean,” you whispered, meeting his eyes, “I wanna fuck you.”

He muttered a curse, biting his bottom lip when you released his cock and crawled further up his body. There was no objection - Dean continued to let you set the pace. You lifted yourself, slipping two fingers between your thighs, sinking them into your body.

“Y/N…” Dean muttered, covering your hand with his own, “let me.”

You nodded, letting him take over, whining when he pushed a single digit into you. Just one of his fingers felt bigger than your two, more calloused and filling. He pumped them a few times, smirking when you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, enjoying his slow touch.

All too soon, you grew impatient for more but before Dean could add a second finger, you tugged on his wrist. “Want you,” you pouted, leaning over to kiss away any protest he could make. Lifting your hips, you pinned his hands beside his head, smiling against his lips. “Stay.”

Dean obeyed, groaning when you slipped one hand down to grasp him again, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance. Lowering down onto him, you whined, lifting again when your body struggled to accept the intrusion. With a few more thrusts, you had him halfway inside and his body was shaking with the effort of holding back.

Lifting up once more, you pushed down, taking him to the hilt. The shock of being so full made you yelp and Dean’s hands were on your hips, holding you steady so you could adjust.

“Gah,” you moaned, resting against his chest, “you’re… fuck.”

“Now who has a dirty mouth?” Dean teased and you pulled back, smiling. “Want me to put my hands back?”

You nodded, waiting for him to return his hands to the pillow before sliding your fingers up to lace them with his.

When you started to move, rocking gently on him, Dean closed his eyes, a low rumble in his chest letting you know that it felt good. The way he reacted made you a little bolder and you lifted yourself, letting him withdraw a few inches before taking him to the hilt again. 

“Y/N…”

“What?” you asked, worried you’d done something wrong with the way he moaned your name.

His cheeks were a little red when he answered. “I’m close and you haven’t -”

“Oh,” you blinked, ceasing your movements, unsure what to do, “do you want me to stop?”

“God, no,” Dean chuckled. “I just wanna make sure you cum too.” The way he said it, his low throaty voice almost catching on the words, made you shudder and clench around him. “Sit up straight,” he instructed - you obeyed, a little puzzled until you felt how much deeper it let him be.

You moaned, circling your hips as Dean’s jaw clenched. Your lips parted in a little “o” when he responded with a slight thrust, one hand untangling from yours to hover over your mound, his thumb settling just above where his cock was inside you.

“That okay?” he asked and you nodded, squirming needily. Intense pleasure was on the edge of your senses, teasing you with the promise of climax but you craved more. Dean’s thumb traced your clit and a spark made your hips jerk. “That’s it,” he coaxed, “keep moving for me, baby.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you started to rock, much like how you had started. The throbbing inside you increased with each glide of his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Electricity ran through your veins prompting your head to fall back as you whimpered into orgasm.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Dean murmured his other hand on your hip now, guiding your rocking motion when you fell over the edge.

It was calmer than any orgasm you’d ever experience but possibly one of the best. Dean’s climax followed yours within seconds and he stopped touching you, letting you fall forward onto his chest, panting heavily.

Although you’d barely moved, you were sweating, exhausted and more sated than you’d ever felt. An overwhelming sense of calm swept through you; even though your legs were shaking with the effort of simply existing, you felt peaceful.

Eventually, Dean had to move, helping you clean up before he slipped back into bed with you. Neither of you spoke as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you back against his chest, letting you curl into his side.

“Get some more sleep,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded, closing your eyes without a reply and letting the last ebbing waves of bliss carry you off.

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

Can you do an Yandere Idia x male reader

with reader being Idia's fake boyfriend so Idia's parent don't have to worry or talk about his social life but then Idia got too attached to reader during their fake relationship.

reader sleeping on Idia's room and Idia's horny thoughts took over him and he ended up fucking reader and then after that guilt tripped reader to staying with him as he was starting to become more and more desperate for reader's prescence, time, and body.

(i can't think of deeper details im so sorry 😭)

No need to apologize, reader! I think this is quite doable~

Title: Attached

Characters: Idia x m!reader

Contains: Dark Themes(Yandere, manipulation), somniphillia, handjob, biting

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

For Idia, to finally have his parents stop asking about a partner was a blessing, but unfortunately for him, it would start a mess.

It had been over a month, maybe two, since this pretend relationship started. You agreed to help the socially awkward male to get his parents off his back. Did it mean having to share a kiss here, a hug there? A few Magicam images to really sell it?

Sure, and really, neither of you minded.

Except now, in the hours of the night, Idia found himself staring at the ceiling, unable to even play a game or check his phone to distract him. His thoughts ran wild, and you sleeping beside him didn't help. His yellow eyes, practically glowing in the dark as they darted to your sleeping form and back up to the ceiling. The whole reason you were here was at his request. It seemed out of the ordinary for you two, and you couldn't quite understand why he would want you over, but assuming it was to set up another farse to fool his parents, you agreed.

Now he was almost regretting it.

Sitting up, Idia's gaze started from your head to your legs. In your pajamas, you slept on top of the blankets, having commenting on how warm it was in the dorm. Idia had yet to change, but he had assured you he would.

He didn't. His mind was too busy.

The only thing he kept thinking about was you.

He never broke his stare, leaning towards you with an outstretched hand. He had plans to turn you, but luckily for him, you turned on your own, now lying on your back. He got a better view of your face, your sweet, sleeping face.

The memories of your fake dates called back to him. The way you held his hand was far too real, the way your fingers would intertwine. The looks you would give him would cause pink to rise to his pale face. He longed for this more than just for the time he needed. He longed for you, for your time, your energy, your...

Idia positioned himself over you, his head over yours, His heart hammered as sinful thoughts danced along his mind.

Blue lips carefully brushed against your slightly parted ones. You didn't stir, which Idia was thankful for. He firmly pressed his lips to yours, enjoying a sweet, yet needy kiss. It was quick, as he didn't want to wake you from your slumber, not yet.

A kiss wouldn't be enough, however, and now that he had a taste, he wouldn't hold back.

Not moving from your side, Idia sat up, eyes darting to your pajama bottoms. With shaky yet eager hands, Idia undid the button that kept the fabric together at your crotch. Instead of digging into your boxers like he wanted to, he attempted to still, and instead gently rested his hand over the mound of fabric. A shuddering sigh left his mouth, eyes nearly fluttering at the touch.

Ever so carefully, he began to massage you, a soft hum leaving you through your nose. He had never done such a thing to another, only himself as he had many a night to think about all the things he wanted to do with you, to do to you. He felt you begin to harden under his hand, your brows furrowing as a breathy moan slipped by your lips. Your arm moved, causing Idia to stop. To his luck, all you did was rest your arm over your eyes, body stilling once you were finished. Idia waited a couple seconds before continuing, this time finally slipping his hand into your boxers to present your semierect shaft to the warm air.

Idia practically drooled at the sight, his face hot from merely holding it in his hand. There was no turning back, and ever so gently, he began to pump his hand along your cock. A groan startled him, but he pressed on. You felt hot in his hand, almost unbearingly so, and the last sane part of his brain screamed at him to stop, but all it took was a name to make him come to a screeching halt as his head slowly turned toward the source.

You weren't awake, you were still asleep, but you had uttered a name that made Idia's heart swell.

"I...dia...~"

A dream, he thought. He has to be dreaming.

And if you were dreaming, then that means you wanted this too, right?

Throwing caution to the wind, Idia attempted to carefully readjust, putting himself by your legs as he finally, yet reluctantly let go of your cock, which now was harder than what he started with. Excitedly, Idia worked to carefully remove your bottoms, boxers and pants now crumbled beside the bed. Idia messed with the buckle of his belt, shaky and sweaty hands fumbling with the leather and metal as he finally worked on his zipper. Eventually, his cock sprang free from the confines of his black boxers. Not wasting any time, fearing you would wake up soon, he positioned himself, lifting your legs up to gain access to your hole. He knew there was no prep, but time was of the essence for him. He pressed his cock to your entrance and--

"I-Idi--AH!"

At the same moment you attempted to speak his name, Idia pushed himself in, your walls not ready for such a protrusion, but the male didn't care, not at the moment. Right now, he stared you down, glazed yellow eyes meeting your pained ones. You had gripped the blankets below you, swearing out with a sob as you made a fist to hit the mattress in frustration.

"I-I'm sorry, y/n, but I...I couldn't help myself anymore." Idia's voice trembled, but not because of fear. It trembled because he was desperate. He needed to move, he could always explain what's happening in the meantime, right? With that in mind, he began to gyrate his hips into yours, both of you filling the hot air with sinful sounds of lust.

Unable to speak, all you could do was grip at Idia's sleeves, panting heavily with each blissful impact of his cock inside as you met his frenzied gaze. Not like Idia would answer anyway, as the man was babbling a mile a minute about how good you felt, about how incredible you were.

Idia fell over you, his head close to yours as his feral thrusting never ceased. He stared down at you, a twisted smile revealing his sharp teeth.

"I-I want you I want you I want you I want you...!"

Before you could give a rebuttal, or rather attempt one, you found Idia's mouth on your neck, those very teeth digging into the top layer of your flesh. All the while Idia's movements never stopped, not even while you let out a scream, the pain oddly sending a jolt to your stomach, heat to your cock.

And he didn't let go. Idia's jaw locked onto your neck, growls and panting sounding beside your ear. With his teeth sinking in, and his thrusts neverending, you found yourself in a taboo position. You were still waking up, and all of this was happening to you. You weren't sure how to react, what to say. Your body was assaulted with pleasure, and all you could do was let it happen.

But to your luck, or misfortune depending, Idia was quick to cum, likely due to his frenzied state, his desperate need to have you.

He filled your hole decently, a slip of cum escaping from the bottom of your stuffed ass. Part of you was grateful it was over, but another part didn't want it to end. Idia finally released his jaw from your neck, indents of teethmarks branding you, some having specks of blood from the pierced skin. As far as Idia was concerned, you belonged to him.

"Hah...~ Look at you...~ You're a mess...~" Though he was one to talk. Despite the sweat sheening on your forehead, the tired eyes that once again met the flame haired man, it didn't compare to the crazed look Idia wore, the toothy grin that just cursed you with a bite. "Don't worry, though. I-I like messes~ You're my favorite mess~"

"I-Idia..." Your voice sounded like a whine, a plea. Idia never pulled out, but instead remained inside, as if leaving would kill him.

"Shhh it's okay." He leaned back down, and you flinched, thinking he would bite you again, but instead he left a kiss on your forehead. "No need t-to say anything, okay? Couples do this. It's normal."

Couples...wait. Did Idia forget it was all for pretend?

"B-But we..."

"Hm? We...what?"

You blinked back the fatigue that crept up on you. "I-Idia...we're not really dating."

Surprisingly, his face went unchanged. "Of course we are. It's been two months. You agreed to go out with me..."

"Idia that's not--"

"So you lied to me...you were just pretending to date me?"

That...that was the whole point! This was all for pretend to get his parents off his back! You blinked back confused tears.

"We agreed--"

"I don't u-understand...why would you do this? Why would you spend...a-all that time with me...?" You felt the air change, his hair looking more active than normal.

"I-It was for your parents, remember?"

"My parents? My parents are thrilled I have someone! If you leave me they'll never let me hear the end of it!" Orange speckled the blue, he was close to popping off, but instead, you thought back on your actions. Perhaps...you had simply misheard him initially. Maybe you thought it was for the parents, but maybe that was a lie Idia came up with to ask you out, fighting his anxieties.

"I-I...I-I'm sorry. I must have m-misremembered..."

The orange settled, and a smile, not as deranged, grew back to Idia's face. "I don't blame you, love. It's late after all."

Finally pulling out from you, which caused you to whine out lightly, Idia got settled with you in the bed, pulling the blankets up to cover your half nude form with him by your side.

"Sleep. You need it, okay?"

Without another word, and afraid to turn your back on him, you curled up, closing your eyes...

...unable to see the traitorous grin that Idia wore.

[chocolatepot]

While I'm ranting about fandom, I have really mixed feelings about posts that are like "back in the day, we never cared about what anyone else was doing and you could write/draw/ship whatever you wanted with no backlash."

Because on the one hand, yeah, there was a much higher tolerance for dark content 10+ years ago, and I do miss that. Antis are bad, sui-baiting people for drawing cute art on one account and NSFW on another is bad, whump is excellent and I wish there were more of it.

On the other, said tolerance didn't exist everywhere and you're kidding yourself if you think it was a fandom-wide virtue. Ship wars were vicious and frequently involved judging female characters as sluts unworthy of $hero because they'd kissed another guy onscreen one time. There were plenty of places you weren't allowed to write anything but fluffy canon het or get judged. I think it mainly feels like there was some golden time of everyone being Okay With Anything just because we didn't have these massive sites where you were rubbing shoulders with everybody. On LJ, it was very easy to just interact with the other people who liked the same stuff as you.

And also on the other, the rise of antis/criticism of dark stuff/etc. went hand-in-hand with the rise of social justice awareness in fandom, and I have strong memories of people really resisting any analysis or discussion relating to bigotry or subconscious bias in canon or fanon because get out of here SJW! It's all made up and meaningless! Pretty much everyone was sorted into either the social-justice-aware camp or the called-people-SJW-unironically camp, and the former was going to be critical of what message your fic or fandom participation was carrying (in terms of sexist tropes, ship statistics, and so on) while the latter was going to be hostile to you saying you were offended or disturbed by anything at all.

I remember one time toward the end of Fandom_Wank (after UnfunnyBusiness had been split off to talk about conflicts involving -isms because people had come to recognize that not all drama is equal) when someone brought up an old wank involving people upset that in a particular fandom's AUs, the characters of color would frequently be turned into literal animals while the white characters were still human. Originally, they had been mocked because this was obviously trivial and not racist, it was just random chance which characters got turned into animals, etc. But at that time, post-RaceFail, everyone agreed that it was really messed up. And that's what I think about every time the "people used to not care about what you wrote" topic comes up.

[antimony-medusa]

hi saw your daddy kink post discussing the phenomenon of giving grown characters surrogate parental relationships, and I understand where you’re coming from, but i really feel like it’s just a matter of the circles you run in, and the assumptions that you might make because of that. you mention how platonic reads of these dynamics are more uncommon than kinky reads, which i just don’t think is the case, and I think that arguing that people don’t even realize that they’re writing a kink is a little bit bizarre, and sort of assumes that you know more abt them than they do by projecting your own experiences onto them.

it isn’t inherently sexual to crave protection or a parental relationship that you may have missed out on, and it is certainly not universal. in my own family, my “grandpa” isnt my biological grandfather (nor do I really consider him to be my grandfather), but he’s my mother’s surrogate father and has been since she was in her twenties. an adult. he sees her as a daughter. she sees him as a father. there’s absolutely nothing kinky about it. and anybody who automatically assumes that must have their mind deep, deep in the gutter and/or the stranger side of the Internet. really, i find it a bit of a strange argument to randomly post in the first place—as if it’s a problem that so many people enjoy non romantic and non sexual relationships, and that these people must, in fact, have a daddy kink that they are unaware of.

that said, i do absolutely agree that fans bringing any part of that into phil’s chat is weird and they should Not do that, and that infantilizing characters is also very weird, and personally i dont even see him as being father figure to anybody on that island except his eggs, wilbur, and MAYBE an argument could be made for tubbo (which other cc’s on the island have joked about), but to each their own and all that.

sorry this is so long. TLDR, i get where ur coming from in terms of “warning , some people might read your stuff differently than you want here” but really not everything is a kink and paternal dynamics can easily happen in regards to adult characters, particularly young adults, without there being any inappropriate connotations. i know nothing i said will change your mind, obviously it’s set, but ykno diff perspectives and all that. hope ur doing well

Thank you for the ask! I see you were on mobile, I believe. :D I am also going to push the character limit with this response, I fear.

I agree that it isn't inhernetly sexual to go after a parental relationship that you missed out on, and there are many such cases. I'll even go so far as to say that it's not inherently kinky to go after a parental relationship that you missed out on, because there is such a thing as non-sexual kink, and heaven knows that MCYT writing is full of non-sexual kink. Lots and lots of stuff that is platonic that is kinking on fear, or being drugged, or kidnapping, or hypnosis, or familial relationships, etc— there's lots of people who aren't doing that. There are tons of people out in the real world (and in fiction), who are simply just expanding their family as an adult, and that's awesome. When I was in college there was this older couple who kind of adopted me and invited me over for thursday dinner, and they were awesome. There was nothing untoward going on there.

But look. I am an emduo fan who likes to see my guys be murdery, and because of that, I've ended up reading a bunch of Dark SBI. I've ocassionally gone "this cannot be what everyone is doing" and I've read stuff tagged as "family fluff" that I find recommended. I am aware of where the genre is going, particularly with the rise of "dadbur" and "dadnoblade" interpretations.

And look, you have just got to trust me on this one. People are writing stuff that in any other fandom I would be recommending they put kink tags on the work so that people who liked that trope could find it and people who didn't like it would avoid it, but that comment in DSMP would just lead to people getting doxxed, so I just grit my teeth and go "i guess that's baked into Dark SBI or Tooth Rotting Fluff now, I sure hope that doesn't hit anybody's triggers".

Like I PROMISE you. The first draft of this response included excerpts of fics that I've read and I was like "can YOU pick the ship fic from the /p fics here"? But I have a horror of ever leading to someone getting cancelled on twitter, so nothing that could possibly be identifiable of these writers. But like—

Some of the ways that Tommy gets treated in the narrative are almost indistinguishable from a bodice-ripper romance. Some of the tropes being used— within DSMP we've all clasped hands and agreed to interpret it being platonic, but in any other fandom, you are going to start getting comments that you might not want to get. The tag is FULL of stuff that is DD/LB in everything but name. Maybe my mind is in the gutter here, but if you move out of this fandom, you are going to move into circles where a lot of people's minds are in the gutter, and you are going to get a very different response from your comments!

And I was talking about daddy kink here specifically, because I see that one come up a lot and it's gotten egregious lately, but this also applies to dehumanization, and fearplay, and predator/prey, and "instincts" (in every other fandom that's gonna get people in a mashup of A/B/O, Hypnosis, and sometimes Agere responding to it), and kidnapping/drugging, AND the way a bunch of "piglin instincts" stuff is just a BDSM au now where the Brute (dom) needs to be callmed down by their Runt (sub). The SBI tag is super kinky right now. And I don't have a problem with that idealogically, write your truth, but a) please don't bring that up in front of the streamers, b) if you move to another fandom you have got to be prepared that not everyone is doing their kink platonically.

Like I'm assuming that people don't know what tropes they're playing into, they're just building them from first principles, because the other alternative is that they are deliberately and knowingly writing kink and posting it in the & relationship tag with insufficient trigger tags, and I prefer to believe that people don't know.

I'm glad we agree about people bringing that into Phi's chat, or Pol's, or Luzu, or any of the other streamers that people have decided is So Old. A lot of people aren't comfortable even being assigned dad, as we saw with Felps, so bringing it even further is just— uh oh, no.

I do not have a problem with people liking non-romantic and non-sexual relationships. I find it a bit odd that much of the fandom can't concieve of a non-romantic and non-sexual relationship without making it familial and specifically lately father-son— don't you have close friends?— but I am fully in support of gen writing. I primarily write gen! I'm an avid commentor on gen fics!

But some of the tropes at play in the fandom are kinky, there is no way to avoid that. The fact that they are set in a familial relationship doesn't negate that. Some of the ways that the DSMP characters get treated would be distinctly non-familial if you ever brought it out of that context. And I am just warning people, if you bring it out of that context, be prepared for the response you get.

You cannot take DSMP tropes and apply them one-to-one in other fandoms, with other streamers swapped in, and expect them to be read the same way. Like i'm sorry, but that's just true. If you are posting the same sort of stuff that for Cellbit & Phil that you would post for Tommy & Phil, people will assume that you have a daddy kink, because usually when a relationship between a adults that are actually similar in age is refered to with paternal language it's a kink thing. That is how the broader internet works. (And anon, if I had a daddy kink, would I be complaining about the fact that I can open any SBI fic and have about a 40% chance of hitting it and I'm seeing signs of this appearing in QSMP? I assure you I'm not "projecting [my] own experiences onto them" here.)

[chronically-ghosted]

i totally agree that it’s ridiculous for people to write fics for films that haven’t been released yet, but the problem isn’t the smut itself. people have every right to write porn if that scratches the itch.

i think your main point is the most important: it’s impossible to write a thoughtful, inspired fic when we don’t even know the story it’s based on. no one knows who this character is or what he’s like.

at this point, everyone should just call a spade a spade and write pedro rpf. all they care about is seeing his face in different situations.

so my earlier post was not so much a statement on Pedro Pascal Character fanfiction/porn, but the commercialization of art and I interpreted the thoughts and opinions of others through the lens of the medium I most often express myself with, which is fanfiction.

let me be clear: i have no problem with smut - pwp or otherwise. people are allowed to write whatever they want, about whoever they want, with whatever tropes make them happy.

my overall focus (and granted it was probably very muddled by the end of those - what, like three reblogs?) was an interrogation of fanfiction as art, and the state of art in this modern era. and after doing some more thinking and listening to more people much smarter than me (thank you to everyone who dm-ed me directly to talk further about this), my opinion is thus: the creation of content (not art) is more ubiquitous today is not because we are getting more stupid as a society, not because of our failing attention spans, not because we are on the brink of moral collapse but because we physically do not have the mental strength to be intellectually curious as a direct result of constant, distracting, emotionally-draining stimuli.

i can explain what i mean below the cut with two primary examples, specifically regarding the shift in fanfiction cult, and yes, the prominence of smutty oneshots in the pedro pascal character fandom of which this blog is a part of.

I have been in various fandoms for almost twenty years. I have been writing fanfiction for almost that same amount of time. In recent years, I've noticed two trends that initially discouraged me, but that I now believe is a symptom of our adjustment to a modern, constantly online era.

A severe lack of engagement within the artistic artifacts of a fandom

The quality of the fanfiction itself (because yes I do consider fanfiction to be an artform) has gone down hill - mostly.

Lack of engagement:

Art is inherently created to be shared. This is especially true for fandom because the community lives or dies by how many people are interacting with each other and sharing ideas (news, theories, fanart, fanfic, etc). If you say a fandom is dead, it means there haven't been any new posts or fic about it in years. So I don't wanna hear it when people say, "oh write for yourself, you shouldn't be chasing engagement" because that is antithetical to the very concept of fanfiction.

In recent years, I have seen and experienced myself engagement in my work only so far as a like or kudo. This is not how it used to be. Message boards (yes I am that old) and niche fandom sites were constantly abuzz with media sharing and excitement, and everyone enjoyed some version of praise (unless you got hit by the antis but they're never fun anyway). Initially I blamed this drop in engagement on laziness: people just want the next thing, they can't be bothered to appreciate the hard work writers put in and they just see content and art as the same thing - stuff to consume.

But I myself am GUILTY of minimal reblogs and comments and I LOVE what I'm writing - the impact certain works leave me with is long, long lasting but for some goddamn reason, I can't sit down and praise the author's works. Am I lazy? Possibly, but this is also not an isolated behavior and it's on the rise: people do not have time to engage with fandom/fanfic like they used to. Most people I know have worked at least two or three jobs at some point in their lives to just to make rent. This gen z is the first generation in DECADES to be worse off economically than their parents. With an interest rate at 8%, who the fuck can afford the security of a home anymore? We work ourselves to the bone for scraps and the realization that The Dream has officially died. And so what do we want to do in the free time we do have? Engage with the very bare minimum. We want to read things that we can at best skim, things we don't have to think about or engage with in any meaningful way. We want a way to turn off the noise of the next apocalypse and sometimes the best we can do is the tap of a thumb.

Which brings me to my next point: what the fuck happened to thoughtful fanfiction?

But this question is inextricably linked to the points above: oneshots are easier to write, faster to write, and if you write fic that is basically "Mad libs porn" (without ever engaging in the actual medium because it is literally not released yet), you are doing the most minimal work for the most amount of engagement. But I can't fault ANYONE for doing that. It feels good to be told your smut is "so hot" or "this exploded my panties" and in this era where the time available to create is so fucking small and minimized of course you're going to write for the most popular character, whether or not you're interested in the source material because we want our art to matter to someone. Intellectual pundits loooove to lambast our "shorter attention spans" but fuck, when are we allowed the time to think - in between this "100 year storm" that's happened twice in the past five years, or the global pandemic that turned millions of deaths into a political punching bag, or the next video of a white woman crying wolf to the police over an innocent black man, or - or - or - or

In a day where reality and the world as we know seems to be holding onto a thread, we turn to comfort: comforting tropes (dbf to rape/kidnap fantasies), comforting fanfic (pwp), and comforting ways to engage with fandom. There is nothing wrong with wanting your art to be appreciated and there's nothing wrong with inherently wrong with pwp - but I do believe its symptomatic of a MUCH larger and more sinister movement within ALL art right now.

I come from the generation who banished fanfic authors for scrubbing off the filing numbers to their fics and publishing it as original content because, in our communities, they were selling out. Fanfiction is inherently an act of rebellion. Every time you write fanfiction you break canon, an established structure with its own rules and boundaries. So by trying to appeal to the masses, to curb your own writing to fit whatever is mainstream, you are doing a disservice to yourself AND to the art of fanfiction. If something you write becomes popular, wonderful, great, you are very lucky and there is nothing wrong with that either. But do not sell out your 13 beloved fans who WILL take the time to leave a comment, who WILL take the time to reblog because your weird little fic spoke to them on a fundamental level and now is with them for the rest of their lives - in favor of a 100 thumb taps.

If you've made it here, thank you very much for reading. I've added some links to some additional references to see how this concept of "populist" art is having a serious negative down turn in the quality of art, but is also not any one individuals personal failings:

Why the world is addicted to background tv by Kayleigh Day

How Modern Audience are failing cinema by Like Stories of Old

Rupi Kaur episode of Rehash podcast

I'm always here to talk fic and art and what makes you excited about your writing. Much love and please rest. We need you here.

[euphor1a]

Joshua having a corruption kink

thirst drabbles (5/∞)

fandom » svt

pairing » joshua x f!reader

rating » 18+ (minors dni!)

genre » smut, brother’s best friend au.

word count » ~ 1260

warnings » profanity, soft dom!shua, sub!reader, inexperienced/virgin!reader, corruption kink, use of pet names, tons of praising, dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, lmk if i missed anything!

It feels wrong, so wrong. 

But at the same time, you are experiencing so many sensations that are completely new to you — sensations that are euphoric.

Even if you tried your best to hate how good he is making you feel, you really just couldn’t. How could you? When he’s fulfilling your deepest, darkest desires? When he’s this close to taking you to heaven? Or hell, maybe. But it doesn’t really matter to you right now. 

Joshua’s hungry tongue laps at your cunt, his thumb gently rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves you had barely paid attention to before. His eyes are trained on your splayed-out figure on his best friend’s bed, taking in every little detail possible. The way you twitch and whimper, occasionally cry out his name, shyly try to cover yourself even in this state – everything is driving him crazy. 

Well, He must have gone crazy, he thinks. Joshua finds it’s hard to believe that he’s actually doing this to you right now. Did you really agree to his straight up scandalous proposition? No cause. Fuck, he’s living his wildest fantasy right now. 

“You’re my good girl, aren’t you? Tasting so sweet, making such cute sounds and looking all pretty for me.” A grunt escapes him, the sound going straight through your core. Obscene noises of licking, sucking and slurping echo throughout the dorm room Joshua and your brother shares, making you impossibly embarrassed. You shudder and whine, toes curling when he grazes his tongue along your entrance. 

What will your elder brother do if he finds out? What if he walks right into this… scene? 

“What’s so important that you gotta think about it when I’m eating your pussy diligently? Or am I not doing good enough, angel?” Joshua stops for a second, three of his fingers slapping your clit. You jolt and let out a broken mewl. The sudden action increases the weird feeling inside your lower abdomen, your eyes tearing up a little.

“Ah, ‘m sorry… I–” you halt, realizing that he has completely pulled away from your throbbing cunt. His hands are still grasping at your thighs firmly, but his mouth is far away from where you want it to be. Joshua suddenly chuckles out loud, your inner walls clench from his smooth yet deep voice. 

“You look like a kicked puppy. What happened, baby? Tell me what’s going on.” He drops a butterfly kiss on the delicate flesh of your inner thigh. You have no idea why, but you realize that your pussy is aching. For him. You want him to continue.

Flustered by your own thoughts, a nearly inaudible ‘please’ is all you manage. Your left hand comes up to cover some parts of your face soon after. But, of course, the devil between your legs isn’t satisfied with just that. “Sorry, but I didn’t catch what you said. Say it loud and clear, okay? Try again, angel.” 

The subtle smile on his lips seems to be encouraging. Although, you swear it’s a smirk he’s hiding underneath. 

“Don’t leave– um, stop like that… please, Shua.” Your heartbeat is dangerously high, and you’re also starting to realize exactly how hot your skin has got. 

Joshua raises an eyebrow at you, licking his lips on purpose. “You can do better, don’t you think, baby? How about you be more specific? What do you want me to do?” 

Heat rises to your face, and you find yourself swallowing nervously. “But that’s so embarrassing!” You complain, definitely louder than intended. 

“What’s so embarrassing about wanting to get your pretty pussy sucked until you come all over my face? If I was you, I’d have wanted the same.” Joshua shrugs nonchalantly. 

You groan, hiding your face under your hands, your hips bucking up automatically. Adding more to your devastation, he teasingly trails open-mouthed kisses down your thighs, going dangerously close to your gushing and throbbing cunt, but stopping before he can reach there. 

“I know you want it so bad, baby. I can see your little hole clenching and your clit is all swollen. Just say the word! Let me take care of you.” 

Desperation blinds you, your hands balling into fists. “God, fine! Please… eat my pussy. Please. It hurts, Shua.” Your immediate wish is for the earth to open up and swallow you whole, but instead, he’s the one consuming you entirely.

“That’s my girl, you did so well.” Joshua smiles before diving right back in, his nose pressing against your clit while he pushes the tip of his tongue into your core. You cry out, one of your hands flying to grip on his messy locks. He hums appreciatively, clearly enjoying the way you pull onto his hair. The warm, flexible muscle gently strokes your gummy walls, eliciting a moan from you. It feels like you’re floating, every part of your body alight with pleasure.

Each thrust of his tongue pushes you closer towards the edge, yet you feel so far away from it. “Ugh… mm–more! Gonna come, Shua. Please.” You whine, squirming under his grip. Joshua plucks his tongue out from you with a loud popping sound, his darkened eyes falling upon your teary ones. 

His boxers have become incredibly tight, and your sudden plea only worsens it for him. Joshua places your right leg over his shoulder, letting his finger coat in your leaking juices mixed with his saliva. “Look at you. Half an hour ago you couldn’t even look me in the eye, were trying to hide yourself and refusing to say what you wanted. Good job, baby, I’m so proud of you.” Those words affect you immediately, the embarrassment starting to creep back up. 

However, before you can do anything, his index and middle fingers slide inside your sopping cunt, your body tensing up from the overwhelming, foreign feeling. He realizes and rushes to whisper sweet nothings, stroking your tummy to calm you down. “Relax, angel. It’s gonna hurt the double if you are tense like that, yeah? Everything’s okay. You are so wet, taking me so well.” 

You slowly ease up, whimpering immediately. Joshua’s thicker, longer fingers fill you up way better than your own – almost like it’s meant to be. He presses a gentle kiss on your mound, murmuring, “Do you want me to move now, baby?” 

“Yeah…” You nod eagerly, squeezing his still fingers inside you. He groans, starting off slow. The drag of his calloused skin against your spongy walls does some things to you, your hips rocking back and forth to meet him halfway. Joshua can’t help but smirk, watching your walls of ‘innocence’ crumbling down in his hands. Your constant pants and cries almost cover up the lewd squelching sounds of your cunt sucking in his digits repetitively. 

“Shua, *ahng*, it feels– so weird–” you whimper, but he only shushes you. A few tears escape from your eyes, the intense feeling that you’re about to burst increasing tenfold as he leans down to suckle on your clit. You start spasming around him, and then it hits you – a wave that makes your whole body rigid but loosens it up soon after. It feels like you’ve turned into jelly, brain addled. 

Joshua climbs up to hover over your shaking form, fingers still inside your pussy. “Good girl, you did amazing.” He presses a lingering peck on your forehead, then finds your lips in a sweet, comforting kiss. “You made such a mess on your brother’s bed… I’m gonna have to change out the sheets before he comes back.”                 

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 author’s notes ꒱

thank you so much for reading <33!! i hope you enjoyed it 🥺! it’s been a while since i shared new content so i’m low-key nervous hfhfhjgh. thank you to @yeonjun4beagles​​ for suggesting mr. shua; otherwise, this really might had not seen the light of the day! ;’)

consider leaving a reblog or a comment to let me know what you think of this!! feedback through asks will be appreciated too! do support your local writers, the community is dying 🫠

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[yandere-sins]

The Orcas' Tale - Choose Nerrocan (BE 1)

Well... yeah. You guys did that :') Then again, I am actually happy we got this bad end since it'll work quite nicely into the rest of the story as an ironic butterfly effect. Thank you for the experience! It was a challenge to write what I wanted to portrait, but I am glad to have had the chance and... good luck re-voting xD

Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere!Orca Mermen x GN!Reader   Warnings: Yandere, Monsters, Violence (Scratching, Ripping off a leg, Blood loss, Lunging for the reader, Mention of biting their throat), Non-consensual touches, Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Hinting at death

"Nerrocan," you voiced your decision, trying to sound determined as you directed your gaze at the merman to your left.

He perked up, muscles tensing as he stretched his back, meeting your eyes over his shoulder with a mix of surprise and disdain swirling in his. However, your attention was drawn away by the other two, hissing and snarling, teeth bared at their own kind while Nerrocan had his gaze fixed on you. Only you. 

You realized your mistake too late, your gaze being blocked by a mess of black and white as Nerrocan sprung into action, lunging at you.

"Wait! Stop!" you yelled, your voice bouncing off the walls, never to be echoed between the treasures and the bodies. 

The splashing intensified, the merman needing less than a split second to reach you. Panic set in before you could reason with yourself. Come to terms with what you had agreed upon and why you didn't need to fear it. But how could you believe that, even just for a second? The claws reaching for you were against everything 'human' about them. They had the faces of allies, but everything else about them was wrong and unsettling. The way Nerrocan pounced for you activated ancient instincts in your head. The ones where cavemen fought against predators, the possibility of being eaten at every corner keeping them on high alert and constantly looking over their shoulder. It reminded you not to trust. To be careful. With those instincts rose the underlying fears that had been erased by the rise of humanity as the supreme race on this planet and the safety it promised. 

But in the ocean, you weren't safe. Humanity never had been. 

"Fucking Nerrocan," you heard Lyr spit, his voice only scratching at the edge of your awareness, unable to take hold as all your focus was directed at the hands wrapped around your legs, squeezing your flesh so unbearably tight in their grip. Lyr sounded displeased and disgusted as he had to watch Nerrocan claim what Lyr would have liked to have just as much, his tailfin thrashing against the water angrily. Yet, you had no time to avert your eyes from the glowing amber ones that shoved themselves into your face. 

"I hope you don't regret that, Human," Krill added, their bodies disappearing from the corners of your eyes as they entirely vanished in the pool. Their voices were just a nick at your attention, hardly registering as your legs were pulled out from under you, your upper body crashing to the ground with pebbles puncturing your back through the fabric of your clothes. 

All you could do was scream as claws dug into your thighs, ripping and shredding your pants, as well as too many layers of skin to count. You couldn't see Nerrocan's reaction to the high-pitched sound through your blurry visions, tears being the only indication of pain as your brain tried to ignore the bleeding and burning scratches along your legs. 

"Impossible," you heard Nerrocan whisper in between your own sobs. His grip briefly loosened as he held your leg, weighing it in his palm before clasping his fingers around it again. 

"Please, stop," you whimpered, unsure how you'd ever recover trust with any of these mermen after this. Nerrocan had been so quiet and composed until this moment, you didn't think he'd go about this whole 'exploring' thing with such uncaring force. Didn't these creatures know about gentleness? Softness? Were there only animalistic instincts to be found behind their intelligent eyes and heads held high? 

"It hurts," you added, his gaze briefly darting to you. Blinking away the tears, you tried to read his thoughts, the amber giving nothing away that you could make sense of. All you could see was less and less sympathy in them as the seconds passed. The exact opposite of what you needed. His hands wrapped around your left leg, tighter and tighter. One on your thigh, the other on your shin. Nerrocan closed your leg, pressing shin to your thigh, never even pretending to test your flexibility as he forced your muscles to bend. Your knee began to strain, tightened with friction to the point of your joints screaming, the same exact sound you let out through your mouth. 

"This is already enough to make you scream? I can't believe I let myself get caught by something so weak." 

Every word he uttered dripped from his lips with hatred. Had you not been in so much pain, hearing his contempt would have made you shiver. You were in no place to judge him for his feelings, not knowing him or what he had been through. But you couldn't help but push through your pain, reaching forward. Your hand could barely wrap around two of his fingers, but you still tried to pry them off, one by one, if you had to. He might feel slighted about something, but repaying his pain with yours was not going to make this easier for him. 

"Look at you, constricted and breakable at the same time. Nothing to protect you. Nothing to actually come close to our strength," Nerrocan sneered, sliding his hand down to press your foot upwards, almost flat against your shin. Rigid from the cold environment, your tendons now threatened to rip if the strain didn't subside. With all your power, you lurched your upper body forward, digging your fingers into his arm. There was no time to admire the muscles under the taut skin, not when you were desperate to get him off you, fearing him actually breaking or ripping something that would be hard to heal without access to modern medicine if he continued. 

"You're going to break it!" you pressed out through clenched teeth, hoping to make him snap out of it audibly. "I need my legs! Stop it!"

"Or what?" he asked, directing his gaze back at you, his focus drilling into you. Suddenly, he emitted such calm, but one look at his eyes, and you found the storm brewing inside him. At least for the moment, he stopped squeezing. "What are you going to do? Catch me again? Drag me into some weird cave full of sounds and people of your kind? Shoot me with your weapons again before dumping me back into the water, bleeding, and with more of your weird machines attached to my body?"

"I didn't do that!" you tried to defend yourself, finally realizing what had this creature so agitated. You never considered how they got the trackers, only focusing on the fact that the mermen could lead you back to where those came from. But now that you had a few seconds to think about it, every one of those seconds causing Nerrocan's grip to tighten around your leg again, you realized that there was no way these mermen would have agreed to the trackers, not even understanding what they were.

"No, you didn't," he agreed, and a small moment of relief washed over you, knowing he realized that. Somewhere inside him was a reasonable person to talk to. Someone who'd understood if you explained yourself. Someone you could trust.

But the relief was short-lived.

Suddenly, Nerrocan straightened your leg, pulling it further and further away from you by your ankle, his other hand wandering up to your hips. "But what says you won't in the future? What if we help you survive here while you play helpless, and then you catch us and hurt us again? Can't have that, can we?"

The sound of your own scream could barely be heard in your own ears over the sound of your blood rushing through your body, your heart working twice as fast as your bone began to detach from your hips. You knew that if Nerrocan wanted, he could have ripped your leg off fast and efficiently, barely breaking a sweat. But he didn't. Instead, he reveled in the sight of your pain, the panic, and the mind-breaking feeling of your leg being pulled from your body. In the middle of your skin ripping, flesh separating in the most gruesome of ways, he briefly stopped, your body going limb from the trauma and pain, your vision blurred with spots as you took a deep breath, the pain having yet to register. And then, with one swift pull, not fast enough to make it quick, but with less patience than before, your whole life came crashing down before your eyes.

You still felt the phantom of your left leg, the nerves twitching and receiving signals from your brain to move and work. But the loss of blood, a large red puddle disgracing the cave floor as you gurgled in shock, made you lose your conscience faster than you wanted. You tried to focus your gaze on Nerrocan, watching him lick off the blood on his fingers with just as much contempt as he had shown you the last few minutes, making you realize his anger wasn't stilled. It had done nothing for him and neither for you. 

Could you have done something different? Would it have helped him if you had the time to talk and explain these things he mistrusted and feared? Could you have done anything to avoid this act of raw violence? Something went wrong, but you couldn't pinpoint where your fault started and where it ended. All you knew was that your choice hadn't been the right one, your trust misguided by these strange creatures before you even had a chance to understand them. 

Before you had to watch Nerrocan lunge forward, feel his sharp, bone-breaking teeth bite into your throat like the killer he was, you passed out. It was an act of kindness from your body, and you were welcomed by darkness. It flooded all your senses, all your perception of time and self, enveloping you like a warm pool that you kept sinking further and further into with no strength left to swim. 

Your eyes never opened again, for better or for worse.

Seems like you didn't make it… What a shame. And I was so rooting for you, too! Isn't there a way to capture the heart of these creatures? Don't you think you can do better than this? Maybe if you tried again, we could find out… 

Hmm… interesting. I look forward to what you will do from here on out. 

[ironboyxs]

Sea Blood

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Male!Brother Reader

Word count: 1491

Summary: Percy Jackson, now a young adult, lived a relatively quiet life after his many adventures as a demigod. He was in an interval of missions and taking advantage of the time in Camp Half-Blood. Then, one day, a series of events, or he would discover a secret that would change his life forever.

As incredible as it may seem, it was a calm day at Camp Half-Blood. The world wasn't about to be destroyed or anything like that. There were only young campers enjoying the summer and training as usual. Percy was happy to have some calm and peace, he was sitting with Annabeth by the sea and the two had planned a romantic picnic. Percy didn't remember the last time he was able to spend a calm moment with his girlfriend.

But well, he was Percy Jackson, peace and tranquility didn't suit him very much.

- Percy! Annabeth! Thank the gods I found you. – Will Solace came running out of breath, with a look on his face that something clearly wasn't quite right.

- What is it? Something happened? Monster? Anyone injured? – Annabeth already got up worried.

- Not exactly, it's Rachel, she... has a prophecy.

- Man, if I have to hear one more “great prophecy” I’m going to retire and live at the bottom of the sea. – Percy said, already indignant at the disapproving look that Annabeth gave him.

- It is not a “great prophecy”. – Will explained – Actually we don't know what prophecy it is, the Oracle demands to speak to you Percy.

Percy froze. That obviously couldn't be a good thing. Soon he and Annabeth were accompanying Will to the Big House where Rachel was sitting in a chair, surrounded by the flickering spirit of the Oracle of Delphi. Percy thought he would never get used to seeing his friend like this.

- Percy Jackson. – The Oracle's voice echoed throughout the room. - At high tide, the secret will be revealed, two sons of Poseidon, united by destiny. The sea will test their bond, and the fate of the demigods will depend on their union.

Rachel's head fell to the side, making her red hair cover her face, she used to get tired after prophecies but surprisingly she began to rise with difficulty from the chair.

- Rachel, be careful, you're still weak. – Said Chiron, who was watching everything from the corner of the room.

- Percy, are you okay? – Rachel asked.

- I'm the one asking you, it's not me who has a green spirit coming out of my mouth out of nowhere.

- Idiot, I'm fine. I'm referring to the prophecy.

- Another confused one... couldn't you have a chat with this spirit and see if it can be clearer?

- You know it doesn't work like that. – Rachel said, lightly punching Percy on the shoulder.

- So the prophecy is about me and Tyson, right? I will meet him at high tide, will we discover a secret that will save the demigods? Something like that?

- I don't think the prophecy is talking about Tyson... – Annabeth said.

- Annabeth, if another son of Poseidon existed, we would have noticed. – Chiron said.

- Yes, just as we perceive a son of Hades. – Annabeth wasn't sarcastic but it was obvious to her.

- You and Tyson have already been united by destiny before Percy, it has to be someone different. – Annabeth explained.

- I feel the same thing. – Rachel agreed.

And then first thing in the morning Percy was going into the sea, he knew it wouldn't be so easy to get help from his father. But he knew he could count on the ocean's help. He focused on the water, on the magical powers that could act on it. Maybe if this new demigod was manipulating the ocean in some way he would be able to feel it.

And he was right, he felt a slight tug, as if the current was telling him where to look, and soon he was letting himself be carried away by the current.

Percy follows the clues left by the water and arrives at a remote location, close to a vast and mysterious ocean. He feels an aura of aquatic power in the air and is determined to unlock the secret of the prophecy. As he walks along the beach, he notices a lone figure at the water's edge. The figure appears to be controlling the sea waves with ease.

As Percy approaches, he realizes that the figure is a young demigod, with dark hair and blue eyes, much like his own. The young man seems to be at peace with the ocean, as if it were a natural extension of it. Percy feels an immediate connection to this strange demigod, but he also realizes something is wrong. The aura of power around the boy is undeniable, but he looks tired and lost.

- Who are you? – Said the boy before Percy got closer.

He stood up and easily created a water trident in his hand.

- I'm extremely tired so if you're a monster I advise you not to irritate me now. – He seemed ready to attack if necessary.

- My name is Percy Jackson. I am a demigod, a son of Poseidon. And I don't think I need to explain the concept of this to you, apparently.

The boy looks into Percy's eyes, his own blue eyes reflecting recognition and shock.

- You are the famous Percy Jackson. I'm Y/N. I am also the son of Poseidon, the eldest son.

- Eldest? How is this possible?

- I was born before you, it's not very difficult to understand. – Y/N replied sarcastically.

- But we should have known about your existence, with everything that happened, with the danger of a son of the big three. How come we didn't know anything about you?

- When I was born, my mother didn't want me, she threw me into the sea and Poseidon dragged me to the bottom. I grew up underwater, raised by sea spirits. I was kept hidden during the Titan War.

- Couldn’t you never leave the sea? – Percy asked, imagining how difficult that must have been for the boy.

- No... but now something happened, they attacked my house in the ocean. I tried to ask Poseidon for help but he was of no use, I had no choice but to run away.

- Well then, big bro, it's time to find out together why fate brought us here.

At that moment, Percy notices that Y/N is slightly injured, although the sea water has already healed most of the injuries. Percy also notices the sadness in the boy's eyes, a loneliness he carries with him. He tries to get closer but Y/N shrinks back.

- Hey, is everything okay? – Percy asked.

- Yes... it's just that I'm not used to people. I lived basically alone. Poseidon visited me sometimes and the water spirits told me things. I always wanted to meet my famous brother. But I always thought I would be alone forever.

Percy realizes the depth of loneliness that Y/N has felt throughout  his life. He extends his hand again, but this time with more kindness and patience.

- You're not alone now, Y/N. We have a lot to learn from each other. Together, we can face whatever fate has in store for us and discover more about our heritage as children of Poseidon.

Y/N still feels a little hesitant, but manages a small smile.

- Thank you, Percy. I never imagined this was possible. I look forward to this journey alongside you.

Days later...

Percy and Y/N are in Cabin 3 at Camp Half-Blood, they spent the whole night talking about the mission they would have together, about the prophecy received. Percy could tell that Y/N was still surprised by everything that was happening, but he was getting used to the new reality, he had even made some friends in the Athena cabin.

He knew that Y/N's life had been extremely lonely and he couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been to spend so many years hiding at sea. Percy wanted to make sure that even though a mission had brought them together, now Y/N had a family.

- Y/N, I want you to know that you are not alone anymore. You have a family now, and I'm here for you. Forever. We are brothers, and that means we take care of each other no matter what.

- This means a lot to me, Percy. I don't know how to thank you for all this. – Y/N said, feeling moved by Percy's words.

- No need to thank, big bro. We are on this journey together, and we will face everything head on. No matter what fate has in store for us, our brotherhood is unbreakable.

- Thanks, Percy. I look forward to facing what lies ahead with you by my side. – Y/N says with a smile.

Percy and Y/N share a moment of understanding and unity, strengthening their bond as brothers. Percy wants to make it clear that Y/N no longer needs to carry the loneliness that haunted him, because now he has a family that will support and care for him at all times.

[olderthannetfic]

I agree with the first one. It fuels a ton of "But I can't possibly be a BNF/actually powerful/capable of hurting anyone!" nonsense in fandom.

But the second...

IDK, man, I'd have said that msscribe's rise to power had a hell of a lot to do with her attendance at Nimbus 2003.

Sure, the sockpuppeting was happening online, but her perceived legitimacy amongst HP BNFs was because they'd met her in person. This wasn't a random name on a screen to them.

And the circle she was trying to join had a lot of people who lived near each other or visited each other in person or who were actually roommates.

FFS, I ran into a HP BNF at my college alumni weekend right after graduation because she was dating a guy a year or two ahead of me. Cassie married some guy I supposedly knew but have zero memory of. (There were so many Joshes at my school. So many.) These people all lived on the Northeast Corridor Line from Boston to D.C. Cassie's crowd revolved around Brooklyn (very helpful for publishing connections, tbh). It wasn't random that they became buddies or that their friendships were solidified behind the scenes.

I think a lot of outsider hopefuls of the LJ era did not perceive the extent to which a lot of the movers and shakers lived in the same places, had attended the same kinds of schools, and went to the same in-person conventions. A major arm of their activities was online, yes, but it was only one arm.

Hell, fucking thanfiction went to a bunch of cons attended by people I know. I really cannot emphasize enough how much the offline portion of that era of fandom was influencing things behind the scenes.

We think of OTW/AO3 as starting from astolat's post, but the town halls at Vividcon and the in-person friendships of a bunch of people in the greater NYC area or who could at least drive in 2-3 hours were equally important.

[jessaerys]

that poll made me think of this excellent post by @magicaii re: mello’s fanon interpretation as overly emotional, and i broadly agree with all the points made, but i would also like to posit that if one subscribes to the hypothesis that mello and near grew up in a somewhat foster-sibling-like environment (which seems to already be almost universally accepted in the matt-mello relationship. is it even canon that they were roommates? it is so prevalent in the fandom that i forgot to even question it. but i digress) 

in a foster-sibling-like environment at the orphanage a certain level of childhood intimacy would be inescapable between mello and near just by virtue of growing up together: having meals together, attending the same classes, sharing caretakers and chores, being teamed up by teachers during assignments, existing in the same recreational spaces, etc. even if they were never particularly friendly with each other, they would inevitably, perhaps even unwittingly, develop some kind of understanding (“something identical in them […] something which would dart to one face, then to the other, depending on an expression or a trick of the light or the angle at which a head was cocked”) by virtue of being intellectual equals above the rest of their peers. they are, after all, foils to the L-light relationship.

in fact i find it harder to believe that they would not have interacted often at wammy’s. being slated to become and in competition for the role of L’s successor, their tutors would have set them up to push each other through special assignments/tests/projects. it is a highly effective didactic tool used in all sorts of competitive and academic environments. mello’s “you know near and i don’t get along” would be thoroughly justified: who amongst us would not hate being Assigned Partners At School with your (self-declared) nemesis!  roger knows this! he has probably threatened mello with a get-along-t-shirt! mello’s emphasis on you know is not clunky as-you-know exposition but an exasperated teenager going UGHH MOM! at a guardian that keeps refusing to acknowledge mello's protests

all of this is to say that, with this context in mind, i can imagine mello lightly “bullying”⁽¹⁾ near not because he wants to make a punching bag out of him but because in the way kids naturally learn through play and social interaction, he'd be feeling for his advantages over near (being more athletic, better with people, easier to get along with, etc) debatably he might even want to establish/prove these differences in the social hierarchy at wammy’s (given his high “social life” stats in dn13:htr) it is these differences (that near is too passive, emotionless, haughty, at least in mello’s head) which seem to frustrate mello the most, so it doesn’t strike me as out of character to think the boy who is introduced hitting someone with a ball and tugging at someone else's hair would surrender to his id⁽²⁾ and try to get a rise out of near, that he’d want to bring near down to everyone else’s “level"

and perhaps this is the shipping goggles i have on but there is something thoroughly intoxicating about being the center of attention of someone who you passionately resent when you are undoubtedly on top.⁽³⁾ you could argue mello subconsciously desires near’s admiration and either refuses to see it whenever it is there (“near told me i did good job, the condescending dick”) or near is absolute shit at communicating it (“your thought process in this essay was almost impossible to follow” <- badly worded compliment), so mello veers for the next best thing: near’s attention. much like with a bad cat, negative attention is still attention, and on god he is getting his fix of being so fucking annoying (look at me, why won't you look at me!) wherever he can get it

-

⁽¹⁾ie. wrestling him down in the playground, toppling over his towers, hiding favorite toys, pulling his hair, locking him in closets etc. nothing life-threatening or overly painful; the mean teasing of a resentful older brother, not the harassing of a bloodthirsty middle school terrorist 

⁽²⁾especially when they are younger mello would have far less developed self control lol. by the time we first meet them, at 13 and 15, this light bullying would've been largely a thing of the past, with mello becoming gradually more distant around the time he transitions into brooding teenagehood while near is still a kid, which would've made leaving wammy's far easier (i also think that mello would firmly believe that he has earned the right to bother near while everyone else has not and he WILL be fighting them about it. only he can mess with near, thank you very much. typical older brother behavior. but this post is already too long)

⁽³⁾ no. i shan't say it

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Daddy Knows Best, Part IV

Title: Daddy Knows Best, Part IV 

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: StepDad!August Walker x StepDaughter!Reader  

Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Fallout 

Word Count: 3.3K 

Summary: August Walker and your father were once friends. One mission, a single decision, made them enemies. August decides he needs to get his revenge. And what better way, than to become your new Daddy? 

Chapter Summary: Daddy and Babydoll deal with the police, and attempt to move on after the tragedy.

Warnings: pet names (Daddy, Babydoll, babygirl), age gap (the reader is 18, August is in his late-30s), loss of a parent (mother), police interrogation, Dom/sub vibes, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, dead dove: do not eat 

A/N: This is different from my usual fics. This would be considered dark!fic in every way possible. If you read the warnings and still choose to read, you are making your own decision. No one is forcing you to read this. This is an entirely self-indulgent therapeutic fic. Enjoy! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @saradika 

Support/Reblog banner by me 

Cover Art by me 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist 

You wake in your bedroom, the early afternoon sun shining through the curtains. You roll over on your side and expect to see Daddy but he’s not in the room. Deciding to take a shower and start the day, you rise and undress.  

As you wash yourself, you are suddenly hit with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness and loss. For a few moments, you were free. And then you remembered. 

Mommy’s dead. 

You saw her lifeless body floating in the swimming pool. That vision will probably never leave your brain. The last memory of your mother is of seeing her face down. The crystal-clear water of the pool marred with the sight of her. 

Even though you had a rough relationship with her, you still mourn the loss of your mother. With your dad out of the picture, you only had one parent in your life. And now she has been taken away from you. 

The water in the shower had gone a bit cold so you rinse yourself off and grab your towel to dry yourself. You dress in a black crop top with a sleeveless black plaid A-line dress on top of it. Pulling on some black thigh-high stockings and a pair of black platform Mary Janes, you embody the look of the mournful daughter. 

You look over yourself in the mirror and try smiling at yourself. Instead, a few fat tears roll down your cheeks and you let them fall before giving up on trying to fake happiness. Wiping your face, you settle for going to find Daddy. 

Once you leave your bedroom, you walk downstairs and are surprised to see that Daddy isn’t alone. Both men stand when you reach the bottom of the stairs, but the woman stays seated with a small smile on her face. Daddy holds out an arm for you to come join them. 

“Come on over, don't be shy. This is Detective Marshall. He came to talk about what happened to your mother,” He nods at my words, “And this is Rachel, she’s a psychologist who works with Detective Marshall.” 

I watch as Babydoll walks over and stands next to me, she greets our guests and then sits leaving space between us on the couch. That’s my good girl, don’t give them the chance to question our relationship. I sit down and gesture for Marshall to continue. 

“I think I’d like to continue with you in private, if that’s alright Mr. Walker. Perhaps Rachel may speak with your stepdaughter?” Marshall suggests and I agree to his terms. 

“Why don’t you take Rachel up to your room so you two can have a little chat?” I insist, patting Babydoll’s knee softly. 

Once she nods, she and Rachel make their way upstairs and I hear the door to her bedroom shut. I look back to Marshall and he is scribbling in his little green notebook. His eyes are harder when our gazes meet. 

“Just a few more questions and I will be out of your hair, Mr. Walker.”  

“Please, call me August. Whatever I can do to help.” I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and my hands clasped together. 

“I appreciate that, August. Uh, so you say that your stepdaughter was the first to see your girlfriend’s body. Where were you at this time?” 

“I was bringing in my luggage from my car. I made it to the kitchen and noticed the open patio door. When I walked toward it, I heard her scream and caught her as she passed out. I saw her mother in the pool and realized that she wasn’t moving. After putting my stepdaughter in her bedroom, I called the police.” I kept my face neutral, but my eyes welled up a bit and I blinked away tears. 

“So, you and your stepdaughter weren’t home when your girlfriend was killed. You two had been on a trip?” 

“Yes. I had been on a trip for work, but my stepdaughter didn’t want to be here alone with her mother, so I brought her with me. Their relationship has been a bit strained since the divorce about a year ago. She misses her father and I, no matter how hard I try, am barely a substitute for him.” That’s it, play the role of a loving stepfather. 

"You mentioned you work for the CIA, Special Activities. Is it safe for you to take your stepdaughter along on business trips in your line of work?” 

“She was never in any danger. No one knew our location or that she was with me. The safe house we stayed in was discreet and out of the way. The only time she was left alone was this morning, and it was just for a couple of hours. I’m sure you understand I can’t divulge the details of my assignment. But you are more than welcome to check in with my superior, Erika Sloane.” I fish her card out of my wallet and hand it to Marshall. 

“Thank you, August. As soon as Rachel is ready, we’ll be out of your way.” 

No sooner do those words leave his mouth, than Rachel is coming down the stairs with Babydoll in tow. I notice the smiles on their faces and wonder what they got up to while they spoke. As they come back into the living room, Rachel stands next to Marshall and Babydoll stands near me. 

“I think that’s everything. We’ll be in touch, August. Thank you for your time.” Marshall reaches out to shake my hand and he smiles at Babydoll. 

For a split second, my face betrays me as I slightly scowl at him smiling at her. But in the same breath, I steady myself and look at Rachel before shaking her hand. 

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” Rachel tilts her head at Babydoll and touches her shoulder. 

I walk the detective and his partner out and once the door is closed, I turn and make my way back to the couch. My perfect little one sits with her leg under her, her big doe eyes settling on me. 

“So, sweet girl, what did you and Rachel talk about?” 

You took Rachel into your room and closed the door behind her. She looked around and smiled at the various photos and knickknacks you had scattered about the room. She sat on the edge of your bed and patted the space next to her. You sat down and she began to ask questions right away. 

“So, you and your stepdad seem close. What was your relationship like with your mother?” 

“My mom and I were never all that close. I was a lot closer with my Nanny, while she was here. Um, I guess I’m more of a Daddy’s girl. Mom was never satisfied with me, I don’t think. She always wanted me to be better. At sports, at school, at everything. She wasn’t my biggest fan. And then after the divorce, I felt even more distant from her. Dad was gone and I was left with her. Then August started dating Mom and it was weird in the beginning, but he ended up being a nice guy. And he listened to me, and he would stand up for me when Mom was on my case. I didn’t hate my mom. I just wished she liked me.” You looked away from Rachel to wipe a single tear that threatened to fall from your eye. 

“Seems like August was your knight in shining armor.”  

“Um, yeah. He cares about me. He cared about my mom too. He doesn’t treat me like a kid like Mom did. I don’t mean to make my mom seem all that bad. She was doing the best she could, I know that. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. I hope whoever did this to her rots in a jail cell forever. Sorry, I’m just angry and upset. My emotions have been a bit off the rails.” 

“It’s perfectly normal to feel sad or livid or even bitter about death. With your relationship with your mother, I am not surprised your emotions are unsure of what to do. Sometimes, we might even feel like a weight is lifted off our shoulders when a certain person in our life is gone. Nothing of what you’re feeling is wrong.” Rachel tilted her head at you and smiled.  

“Thanks.” You returned the smile and went back to fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

"Do you feel safe here with August? I only ask as a precaution. Having you in a place where you feel safe is most important.” She put a hand over yours and you froze. What did she mean by that? 

“I feel more than safe with him. He’s never given me a reason not to trust him.” You suddenly felt defensive over August and you tried to keep yourself calm. 

“Good. I’m glad you have him to help you through this trying time. But if you ever need to talk, or even if you just need someone to listen, you can call me.” She pulled a business card out of her pocket and handed it to you. 

“I don’t know if I’ll have anything to talk about but thank you.” 

“Maybe something that you can’t talk to August about. Something that maybe only another woman would understand?”  

“Oh. Ok. Um, I will let you know if anything comes up.” You stood and put the card on your desk and Rachel stood as well. 

“Good. Any time, day or night. I’ll be available at that number. Use it whenever you need me. I think that’s all I need. Why don’t we go and rejoin the others?” Rachel went to your bedroom door and let you walk out first. 

You’re not quite sure about how to feel about your interaction, but at least you felt like you defended August well and even made a new friend. She seemed nice enough anyway. 

After she tells me everything that she and Rachel talk about, I feel a bit more at ease. Less like the detective thinks I murdered her mother, but more like his partner thinks something is going on between me and Babydoll. 

Which there is, but she doesn’t need to know that. 

Even if she did know, it isn’t illegal. She’s 18, a consenting adult, and she’s well taken care of. Not that I need to explain myself to anyone. 

“Babydoll, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything at all. Daddy is here to listen and to keep you safe.”  

“I know, Daddy. There is something...but, I don’t know.” She ducks her head and looks to the floor. 

I put a finger under her chin, lifting it so she can look at me. “Anything, Babydoll. You ask and I’ll make sure it gets done right away.” 

“Daddy, I...don’t want to live here anymore. All I can see around me is bad memories with Mom. Or old memories with...my father. And neither of them is in my life anymore. Does it make me a bad person that all I wanna do is move on? I feel weird even being in the living room, so close to where Mom died.” She plays with her fingers and looks down again. 

“Let me make a few calls, Babydoll. I’ll see if we can be out of the house by week’s end, alright?”  

“Thank you, Daddy. This means a lot.” She stands and wraps her arms around my neck in a tight embrace. I hug her back and lift her off the ground a bit and she giggles. The tuneful sound tickles my ears, and I am happy to be the cause of it. 

I kiss her cheek and send her up to her room to deflate. In the next few hours, I have a house lined up for us on the nicer side of town. Three bedrooms, three baths, finished basement, big backyard with an in-ground pool. A perfect place to start a new life. 

By the end of the week, we are finishing up moving all our stuff over to the new house. Other than a small crying fit that Babydoll has while she and I go through her parents’ belongings and decide what to keep and what to donate, the move was mostly hassle-free. 

One morning after a run to clear my head, I was surprised to have a visit from Detective Marshall, and this time he only wanted to talk to me. I let him in and ask Babydoll to give us some privacy. We talk for a short while about moving from the old house and how Babydoll is doing. I ask him to cut to the chase and he nods and tells me Babydoll’s father’s body has been found.  

He was discovered in a hotel room with substances in his system, along with a suicide note that included his confession to killing his ex-wife. At that bombshell, I’m visibly unnerved. Marshall reaches out a hand to my shoulder and apologizes for having to deliver this information.  

He makes a sort-of backhanded comment that my former partner must not have liked that I took his place in his family. I responded by saying it wasn’t appropriate to make assumptions about dead men. Besides, as his ex-wife told me many times, they were rocky well before I stepped in. Marshall also stated that since Babydoll’s father had confessed to the murder this case was now officially closed, and we could go ahead with a burial ceremony. 

I thanked him for relaying the news and escorted him to the front door. Before he left, he made sure I knew he would be keeping an eye on us. Seems the detective doesn’t trust me. I couldn’t care less, honestly. Let him try and pin this all on me. 

I mean, he could pin it all on me if he wanted to do so. It's not like he would be wrong in doing so.  

But I covered all my tracks and sealed them airtight. And with my record, they’d be ridiculous to come after me now that they have a confession and another dead body on their hands. 

I wait until the detective drives off in his large black Ford F-Series, leave my sneakers at the door, and then make my way up to find Babydoll. I find her sprawled across the bed in the Master bedroom, sketching something in her notebook. Technically, this is my bedroom and hers is down the hall, but she sleeps with me most nights. 

“What are you up to, Babydoll?” I ask, coming around the bed to sit next to her and peer into her notebook. 

She shuts it before I can get a good look inside, “It’s a surprise, Daddy. You can’t see it yet.” 

“Oh, I'm not allowed to see it yet, huh? Well, I guess Babydoll isn’t allowed to cum tonight then. How about that?”  

Fuck, I loved to tease her. She always made the cutest little pouty faces. 

“Daddy! No! Please may I cum tonight? I’ll do anything. Just, I was making you something special and I don’t wanna show you ‘til it’s finished. I don’t wanna ruin the surprise. Please?” There goes that little pouty lip of hers, it could make me agree to anything. 

“Ok, fine, Babydoll. But you’re gonna cum when Daddy says to.” 

“I can be a good girl for you, Daddy. I promise.” 

“There’s my good girl,” I lay back against the pillows after I shuck my muscle tank, joggers, and socks, “Show me that sweet little pussy while Daddy gets his dick ready for you.” I take out my length and start to stroke it while she pulls her panties down, laying on her back so she can show me how she plays with herself. 

Within minutes, her cunt is making those glorious squelching sounds I love so much while she fingers herself for me. I am beyond hard at this point and I am salivating just to get inside her.  

“Come up here and lay back Babydoll. Let Daddy have his turn now.”

She removes her fingers from her wet snatch and slides next to me. I take off my boxers and my cock springs up and bounces against my abdomen. Leaning over her, I position my dick at her entrance and slowly slide in thanks to the wetness she has accumulated. 

“Fuck, Babydoll, you are so tight. You feel so perfect around me.” I don’t stop until my balls are against her ass and our hips are flush together. I’ve molded this pussy to fit my shaft perfectly. Pulling out, I slam back in and am rewarded with her angelic little whimpers. 

I don’t necessarily need to last long; I just need to make sure I get her to her peak before I reach mine. I find a steady rhythm thrusting in and out of her tight heat that has her keening in my ear. Her arms are around my neck and her legs are wrapped around my waist. 

I can feel her core tightening around me, and I know she is close. Reaching a hand between us, I use my thumb to flick against her clit to push her over the edge. Her moans tell me everything I need to know. 

“Cum for me, Babydoll. Soak my fucking dick, sweet baby.” Not even a second later, I feel the tell-tale signs of her orgasm as her folds flutter around me and the dam breaks loose. She screams out and I can’t help myself. 

I fuck into her until I feel my balls draw up and then I slam into her heat one last time. I swear I was going to pull out and I almost did, but the warmth and the tight fit and my exhaustion from the run got the better of me. I came deep inside her as my cockhead sat against her cervix. I didn’t give a fuck about anything except the notion of her cunt holding me so perfectly as I blew my load. 

The only sounds in the room were of us catching our breath.  

Once I could move again, I lean up on my knees and pull back from where I collapsed on top of her. Holding her legs open, I let my length slip out. Soon, my massive load starts to rush out and I push all of it back inside her as she lazily smiles up at me. I smile at her then pull her into the bathroom with me to shower. 

She’s barely able to stand in the shower and I mostly hold her steady. We both get clean enough and I help her dry off then dry myself off and we make it back to the bedroom and lay back down in bed. I tell myself it is best to talk to her now about all this instead of waiting and possibly upsetting her. 

“Alright, Babydoll. Daddy just creampied you, I didn’t pull out this time. I came inside you. Now, in the morning, Daddy is gonna run and get you a plan B pill so that you don’t get pregnant. But I think it might be time that we get you on birth control so that Daddy doesn't have to worry about this kind of thing in the future.” I speak slowly and clearly so she knows that I have her best interest at heart. 

“Ok, Daddy. Can we take a nap now? I’m exhausted.” She is already rolling over on her side and throwing an arm across my chest. 

“Yeah, Babydoll, let’s take a nap.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and kiss the top of her head. 

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking of her tummy round and swollen with my kid and her tits heavy with milk. But I know that’s just emotion talking. As much as I want to get her pregnant, right now it is far too soon after everything with her parents. 

Right? 

Part V (coming soon) 

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to get out, loves. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this. I still have more in me, I think. 

**Tag List** 

@winterschildren8 @raccoon-eyed-rebel @viking-raider @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @livisss @randomweirdoss @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @mrs-solo-walker [Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁] 

[tobi-smp]

Context: [Link]

I don't want to call out any responses in particular, so I won't. but on the subject of exile textually taking place for several months (as stated by the characters in roleplay) I just !

find it Extremely Strange that the constant reaction to that is that tommy's perception of time is unreliable and therefore we should work off of the assumption that it's wrong.

like don't get me wrong, that could Absolutely be an intentional aspect of a story about mental health and trauma. loss of time is a really common symptom, for instance. I struggle with the passage of time a lot when my mental health gets bad in a certain way.

but it's strange to me because the fandom Only does this with tommy.

wilbur says that he spent 9 years in superhell and this is taken unquestionably at face value, even as the fandom refuses to age him up to reflect this. the entire Idea of what limbo is and what it does to people was changed to accommodate wilbur's description of it. and it's just taken for granted that wilbur's perception of his time there is completely 100% correct.

and I'm not saying that we Should start questioning it, but being in an infinite void with absolutely no contact with the outside world that never changes seems far more disorienting time-wise than like. living on a beach where you can see the sun rise and fall every day.

but it's Assumed that wilbur must know while it's insisted over and over again that tommy's own perception cannot be trusted.

and this is all Especially weird because ! tommy Wasn't the only person who referenced the amount of time that passed. dream was very much so Also there. when tommy commented on going without a visitor for days at a time (outside of dream himself) dream would agree. when tommy referenced weeks dream would agree.

and yes, dream put the Gaslight in girlboss. he very much so Wants tommy to be out of touch with reality and unsteady on his feet. but you'd think pointing Out that discrepancy would Be The Point.

when tommy hallucinated tubbo dream was there to tell him that his perception of reality was wrong. that tommy should stop listening to his own mind and start listening to dream instead. that when dream tells him that something happened one way then it Did regardless of what he thinks he remembers.

so if tommy really Was wrong, if his perception of time in exile was off by Literal Months. you'd think dream would've taken Advantage of that instead of just. letting it slide.

it's just Strange that this appears to be a double standard. people don't even argue that Fundy's perception of time is wrong when he insists that he's been on vacation for a full year after like, a month long break from streaming.

[callsignangel]

screen rant babe - two

warnings: fluff galoreeeeee word count: 1067 a/n: hi friends! it's finally here. i've never actually been to disneyland so there's probably some inaccuracies there. this is short but i promise the next part will be everything y'all are wishing for hehe. otherwise this was really fun to write, and i hope you enjoy it! reblogs and feedback about my work is deeply appreciated. <3

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when jack suggested going to disneyland, you laughed and agreed to go thinking it would never happen - that it was just quick infatuation and that you'd never see him again. boy, were you wrong.

he had found and followed you on all of your public social media accounts and even posted about your interview on instagram. his blank stare and painfully obvious crush on you quickly became a meme in the avatar fandom. it never really sunk in for you until you got a dm from the rising star himself.

in the brief conversation you had with him after the interview, he managed to get enough information about you that he needed - except your phone number. he internally cursed himself for that, and spent the rest of his day trying to search for you on every platform he could. most of the younger cast laughed at him for his vigorous search for the screen rant babe, but bailey and trinity being the absolute sweethearts they are were more than happy to help him.

it took you by mighty surprise when the notification of his message request lit up your phone. almost choked on your cereal, in fact.

jackchampion: hey! just checking in to see if we're still on for disneyland one of these days. i would also love to get your number so we can discuss plans easier (:

oh my god. he was serious. you replied as quickly as you could, giving him your number and telling him that you were definitely still on for your disneyland date. you were leaving for london in less than two days, and the way he was planning made it sound like you were going to be slaves to the mouse for a lot more time than you had. park hoppers, all of the rides, the ultimate experience. jack champion, full time disney fanboy. 

his name and the selfie you took together at the interview lit up your screen. he was CALLING YOU. most likely to thoroughly discuss said plans, but it still caught you by surprise. he was so direct, so focused on you. cute, chivalrous, quick on his feet, full of surprises. what more could you want in a man?

you picked up the phone in a giddy panic, barely managing to let out a garbled greeting. his heavenly laugh echoed through the other side, returning your greeting. it didn’t take him long before he immediately launched into your full disneyland itinerary. “so i was thinking i could come get you around 7ish so we can get there early and beat the opening rush-” “7 in the morning? you’re crazy!” you giggled, swiftly apologizing for interrupting him. he was really crazy.  crazy for you, that is. 

eventually you managed to figure out what you were going to do at the parks the next day. there were a couple rides you specifically wanted to go on, and he made sure to get fastpasses.  “i’m really excited to see you tomorrow,” he said softly, as if he was cautiously trying to navigate unsteady waters. “i’m really excited to see you too, jack. it’s going to be so fun!”  you should’ve seen the smile he cracked when you returned his excitement.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

he showed up to your hotel with a giddy grin on his face at 7 the next morning. he was clearly well rested and ready for the day, whilst you had been awake the entire night trying to figure out if this was a dream. and here he was, getting out of his car to come around and open your door for you. he was the definition of chivalry, and it made your heart almost burst.  once you were settled in his car and you were on your way, he kept taking small glances of you. “did you wanna stop anywhere before we head to the park?” he inquired. “do they allow outside drinks? because i am dying for coffee right now.” “when my liege asks for coffee, we shall get them their coffee."

after a quick dunkin run and trying to figure out the maze that is the disneyland parking system, you both finally made it into the park. “so, what should we do first?” he inquired.  “i need to get a pair of ears before we can do anything else,” you replied, frantically looking for a gift shop. he chuckled before realizing that you were moving too fast for him to keep up in the swarm of other guests at the park. without thinking, he grabbed your coffee-free hand. it was electrifying, like an entire city without power had just lit up. you gave him a warm smile as you kept walking, giving his hand a good squeeze. he returned your smile, thankful that he hadn’t cursed this date with his awkwardness. you thought it was charming, his obliviousness in certain situations. 

when you finally found a gift shop with a wall of ears, you were overjoyed. so many options, so little time. you asked him his opinion of certain ears, like if they looked good on you or if they suited you. he always said yes. you looked beautiful to him.  when you finally picked out a pair of ears inspired by the scarlet witch, you encouraged him to get a vision pair to match with you. he happily obliged. “weren’t you in avengers endgame?” “for maybe 10 seconds, i didn’t even speak,” “still an oscar worthy performance, and you met paul rudd!”

the small gift shop was filled with your joint laughter. he put his vision inspired ears on his head, and quickly pulled out his phone. there was a small mirror by the wall of ears, and he pulled you close to it so he could take a picture of you both with your matching ears. a bright smile and a quick snap later, he told you that would be his new wallpaper.  “so, now that you’ve got your ears, should we hit up avenger’s campus first?” “hell yeah, i really want one of those big iron man hand drink things…” you had grabbed his hand without question as you left the shop and had thrown your now empty coffee cup away. it felt right, holding his hand. like it was perfectly molded to yours. “and churros! we need to get churros.” it was going to be a good day.

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taglist: @gcidrvsh @crimson-mage-02 @babywantskith @pandorainmymind @dazecrea @elliotsbeigeguitar @jyoungmom @itakehotshowers if you would like to be added to my taglist, please let me know!

[mysteriesmuse]

Bedtime Bliss

I think that almost everyone in the fandom agrees that we’d simply steal all of Bakugo’s shirts to sleep in lol. Of course the oversized comfort can not be disputed!!

However, I’m the kinda person who thinks that Bakugo would still be just as enamored with you wearing your own pajamas. ———

Bakugou himself almost exclusively sleeps in his boxers alone. Occasionally throwing on a pair of sweatpants in the winter, but you his pretty little s/o, always wears a cute little outfit to bed. Your dresser in Bakugou’s apartment has changed to include only summer appropriate pjs bc Bakugou’s body runs so hot at all times!! You’ve got camisoles, ruffled shorts, and silk slips etc. A PLENTY!! 👏 If you slept in any more clothes, you’d surely wake up in the middle of the night to an uncomfortably clammy cuddle. So every night after your shower and incessantly loud session of blow drying your hair. You prance out of the bathroom into the bedroom with an undeniably pretty domestic aura. And Bakugou will wait every night, sitting against the bed board with his scared, tan chest gently rising and falling. Those broad shoulders of his finally released from damn next to his ears, to rest where they’re supposed to sit. His ash blonde hair a fuzzy mess, a pair of readers hanging off his nose as his fat fingers flick through the pages of his book. and when you DO waltz out of the bathroom into the bedroom those smouldering eyes will peek up at you from his reading, and his perfectly sharp and chubby cheekbones (which only get MORE attractive when he wears his glasses) only to soften when they land on you. Your skin all soft and supple, from the glowy sheen of your moisturizer. Your bare face all relaxed and your eyelashes all light and fluffy. the adorably sexy pjs from your summery collection that hang of your body exposing all your angelic angles. Especially the graceful curve of your legs as you make your way over to him. As you crawl into bed beside him and press a soft kiss to his shoulder. And Katsuki Bakugou grunts out his familiar sound of acknowledgment. Staring into your eyes with the tender hearth that rests behind the red curtain of feriousity that the world sees. - internally his heart beats a little faster, and does its signature flip for you. And you just beam up at him with that cover girl worthy smile. The grunt is all he can do with his heart caught in his throat. - but Bakugou was always better with his actions than his words, as he threads his fingers through your hair and presses a seeringly soft kiss to the corner of your smile.

Before your turn around and give him a real kiss full on the mouth muttering your cheeky, “you need a little chapstick babe.” all just to see the shiny little pout of his lips from the transfer of your honey chapstick

The tips of his ears turn pink as he turns and drops your book right onto your lap, grunting out a disgruntled and flustered, “Here.” As you giggle and he resumes reading his book. And the two of you lie in bed together, just like every night when Bakugou comes home early. (He purposely try’s to set his schedule up like this to enjoy this time with you) and you two sit quietly, shoulder to shoulder, with books in hand. You and Bakugou silently passing along your steaming mug of tea, fingers grazing, back and forth to the nightstand. . . . how it’s still steaming half and hour later always seems to escape your sleepy mind, as you sip the golden liquid, but Bakugou always takes mind to use his quirk and warms it up in his hand before wordlessly passing it back to you.