#but I’m disabled so places won’t take me

[apologyacceptedcaptainneeda]

I’m already beyond stressed about this years election. I’m trans. I’m queer. I’m disabled. While I dislike biden, trump is catastrophically worse. And I’m terrified that he’ll win. Four more years of trump is absolutely terrifying. It was bad when he was in office. It was so dangerous. And I recently moved to a more conservative area where I’ve seen numerous trump flags. I’m scared. And I don’t want to go through this again. I don’t want to have to hide my identity again. I just want to feel safe. This country should be about freedom, so why do I feel so trapped?

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 4

Word Count ~ 4.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ minor blood and violence, sexual content

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You’ve only barely begun to recover from the wrung out feeling of ultimate bliss when you hear it: the warning klaxon, followed by the sound of tires screeching to a halt. The aggressive roar of truck engines. Doors opening in rapid succession. Loud voices and boots pounding on pavement.

The doppelgänger jerks upright, sliding off the bed and wrenching the curtains to one side to peer down at the scene unfolding on the street below. “They’re here,” he says, and for the first time you detect something like fear wafting from the imposter.

A flood of relief washes over you. Someone had alerted the disposal unit. It wasn’t too late to save lives after all.

You search for your discarded clothing, hurriedly sliding the retrieved garments back into place. Francis’ copy looks at you.

“They’ll know you let me in.”

“Yes,” you agree distractedly, hastily shoving the hem of your blouse back beneath the waist of your skirt.

“They’ll know,” he says again, more firmly this time, moving in front of you, one hand closing around the wrist you’ve yet to refasten the shirt cuff upon. “They’ll know about me.”

You stare at him, realization kicking in. The others were safe. You, however, had no such guarantee. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I should. You’re a liability.” His grip on you abruptly relaxes. He’s merely holding you now. “Your organization will punish you for this.”

You shake your head, trying to hastily tuck your hair back into place. “Not once they hear my explanation.”

The intruder scowls. “What defense will you offer? You knowingly let a replicant into your precious building.”

“I…” Your confidence wavers as you begin to consider how your actions will appear. He’s right. There’s no excuse for what you’ve done. You’ve not only failed at your assigned task, you’ve betrayed your own kind. An unforgivable crime.

He seems to read the slight panic on your features, his voice gentling. “Suppose we make a deal,” he says.

You look at him warily. “What kind of deal?”

“I make it look like you were attacked while you tried to fend me off. Make up some doppelgänger appearance when they ask you. Don’t tell them about Francis’ death. You get to live. I get to go down the fire escape, avoiding extinction.”

A life for a life, in essence. The elevator was temporarily disabled the second the alarm was pushed, but it won’t take the team long to sweep each floor. You were running out of time.

“Okay,” you reluctantly agree.

He turns your arm over so the underside is exposed, thumb pressing firmly just below the hollow of your elbow. “This will hurt,” he cautions. The only warning you get before you see it: that thing inside of the milkman breaking through, emerging. A sickly gray-green digit topped with a sharp yellow claw. He drags it right through the fabric of your shirt, right through your skin. It burns. A blossoming line of red appears, your lifeforce weeping out of the laceration. You feel lightheaded and nauseous.

“Don’t look at it. And don’t let it get on the carpet. We need to leave, now.” He steps back into the milkman’s shoes, not even bothering with the laces. You follow him to the front door, exiting the apartment. Locked again. You hear voices echoing in the stairwell, the heavy tred of the suited disposal unit pounding on the steps.

“Remember what I said.” The imitation’s knuckles graze your cheek, the touch almost tender. The injured arm cradled against your chest is throbbing. “I’m going to knock you out. It will help further disguise what happened.” The voices are getting louder. They’ve finished on the second floor, making their way to the third. The doppel’s fingers curl around the back of your neck, his mouth brushing yours hurriedly before your head is slammed against the wall, sending you hurtling into a void of darkness.

***

There is a debriefing after the incident.

No casualties. The residents were safe, excluding Francis, of course. You have a lie ready to account for his sudden absence. You say you’d heard him mention something about an emergency visit to a sick relative in a neighboring city as he’d dashed out the front door earlier that day. A phone call to his employer wouldn’t match this story, of course. You weren’t sure what family the man even had. None that would corroborate your fabrication, certainly. You were just hoping that your claim about him needing to leave abruptly very early in the morning without contacting anyone was convincing enough. It’s all you can think of on the spur of the moment.

The director, a severe looking middle aged man, frowns over the lenses of his glasses at you. You keep your hands folded tightly in your lap. Your stitched wound is slowly healing, the ache now a sort of dull throbbing that you’re consciously aware of from time to time. No apparent signs of infection, the surrounding skin clear.

“Your track record, up until now, has been impeccable.” The older man’s voice brings you out of your reverie.

“Yes, sir.” It’s true. For six months you’d performed your role as doorman perfectly. Never failing to detect a single doppelgänger. Protecting the innocent.

“Still, this is not a transgression that can simply be overlooked. The consequences of your misjudgment could have been dire.”

You’d stated that you’d realized the person requesting entrance was really a copy only after the door had been opened, catching an error on the paperwork at the last minute. Intervening, attempting to stall the intruder. Injured and knocked unconscious. You knew nothing more after that.

“It’s suspicious that none of this alleged false documentation has been retrieved at the site. Strange also that you’d been carried all the way to the third floor. We also have no record even remotely matching the description of the doppel you’ve given. How do you account for these discrepancies?”

“The replicant stated they were a new resident moving in to the vacant apartment on the third floor. It seemed plausible that there hadn’t been a chance for them to be featured on the day’s list yet. It’s hardly the first time someone’s name hasn’t been placed as it should be. The subtly incorrect DDD logo was the tip off I unfortunately picked up on too late, sir.” You pause, clearing your throat. There is virtually no moisture left in your mouth and you find it suddenly parchment dry. It’s difficult to speak, your nerves betraying you. “The replicant must have taken the paperwork with them in order to conceal the evidence. And I was knocked out immediately after being cut. I don’t remember anything after that.”

His lips press into a thin line. Your force yourself to maintain eye contact. This was your explanation and you could not falter. “Even so. You failed to follow protocol. And you failed to contact the disposal team.”

“There wasn’t time to dial the phone number. Not even time to sound the alarm. I simply reacted on instinct. I was hoping to…”

“To what? What did you think you would accomplish? You, a mere unarmed woman?” He drapes the last word in contempt. You flush, squirming in your seat at the insult.

The suited man sighs heavily, closing your file folder. “You’re going to be suspended without pay for one week. Then I expect you to return to work. Your temporary replacement is…less than ideal. Let me be clear, though: if anything else happens, you’ll be terminated. No debriefing. No excuses. Understood? This is your final warning.”

You nod, saving your sigh of relief for when you’ve exited the office. The air departs your lungs in a loud rush. You’d done it. You’d actually managed to talk your way out of it.

Your thoughts immediately shift to Francis’ doppelgänger.

He was out there, somewhere. The safest move would be to travel, to just flee the area entirely, but you doubt he’ll leave. He’s still here.

You can feel him.

***

You drive to your house, to the home of your childhood. An inheritance from your great grandparents, passed down through each generation. Outside of the city. Quiet. It’s a relief to see green again. The air smells clearer, too. No waste from factory smokestacks or concentrated exhaust from automobiles. A light scent of grass and summer wildflowers. You roll your window down, inhaling deeply. It’s the best you’ve felt in a while. Since before the incident.

Francis. Your good mood departs just as quickly as it had arrived. How terrible a person you are. Lying to save your own skin. To protect the doppelgänger that had killed your beloved milkman. Putting innocent lives at risk. You had no right to feel anything even resembling happiness or contentment. You should turn the car right back around and return to the office. Confess your sins and receive whatever punishment would be decided for you. Imprisonment, certainly. Perhaps a life sentence to match the life that had been stolen from the third floor resident.

You trudge up the steps of the porch, sinking down onto the topmost stair, your head resting against the post of the railing. There are strips of paint peeling, you notice. You’ll need to sand them down before you apply more stain. Something to occupy you during your week off. Distract you from your own misery.

You close your eyes and listen to the hum of insects. There is another scent in the air now; something damp. The sky’s clouds were white and fluffy looking, but you know those can change in an instant. You think there is a storm approaching.

Perhaps you will wait it out. Just rest here and see what happens, studying your surroundings. There are birds singing in the vacant field that hasn’t known crops for many seasons. You only tended a much smaller one close to the house. Some vegetables. That was all. More often than not the local wildlife took a sample, but you didn’t mind sharing. You should have a look before you head back inside later on, see if there is anything to harvest.

It’s comfortable here. The sun is at the perfect angle. You still have plenty of shade. Warm enough to warrant rolling your shirt sleeves back. Catching sight of the scabbed, sutured line marring your forearm. You trace the mark. You think about the copycat tracing your cheek. That final kiss before he’d knocked you unconscious. It made so little sense to let you live. Had some remnant of Francis’ psyche influenced him somehow? Urging him to spare you?

Your eyes slide closed and you drift off to sleep still mulling this over.

***

In the dream you are standing in the nearby orchard.

You know it is a dream, because in reality these fruit trees are no longer tended. Yet here you are, standing beneath the crooked branches of one peach bearing specimen. The many smooth emerald leaves shield you from the sun.

Francis is beside you.

Or not-Francis. You cannot say which it is. The smile is as you remember. The perpetually tired eyes. He reaches for one of the velvet skinned fruits, plucking it easily and handing it to you.

The texture is exactly as it should be. Not too firm and not too soft. Ripe and ready to take a bite from. You do so, your teeth sinking into the soft yellow flesh. A burst of sweetness on your tongue. The excess juice drips down your chin. You offer the peach to the milkman but he doesn’t accept, instead moving to take a taste of it from your face, first doting on your lips before he laps at the dribbling trail. You clutch his shirt and his kisses become rougher. Pushing you gently to the ground. You drop the fruit and your hands become full of his shirt, his hair, the soft earth beneath you. His mouth plants kisses along your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. Hand dragging down through the floral patterned button front dress you’re wearing.

“Francis.” You reach for his face. It’s wrong. Something in the structure of the nose. So subtle it could easily be mistaken. The teeth suddenly bared in a smile that’s unfriendly. A grin of triumph. It isn’t Francis. You’ve been duped by an imposter.

The skin ripples. His eyes become bloodshot. You struggle to move. Your wrists are pinned at your sides. Sharp teeth nipping at the skin of your throat. A wolf ready to destroy its prey.

The thunder awakens you.

You jolt upright, massaging your stiff neck as you glance around hurriedly. The sky is a mass of gray clouds now, the natural illumination of the heavens notably dimmed. The air is laced with the scent of petrichor. You rise and the first drops of rain fall, pattering on your bare arms, sinking into you hair. Another disgruntled warning rumble, louder this time. The interval between that and the next shortening. You’re about to turn and enter the house when you see a figure standing nearby, on the outskirts of the side yard.

It’s him. The imposter that took over Francis.

The normally pristine, starched uniform is dirt stained, collecting souvenirs from the unpaved road leading to your house. The bowtie around his neck is loosened, draped around the unbuttoned shirt collar, the first several buttons of that work shirt similarly unfastened, revealing the white undershirt beneath. He’d never bothered retrieving the hat, the uncovered thatch of thick chestnut hair now tousled. Your fingers curl around the railing for support as he begins walking towards you with determined strides, closing the distance rapidly. The thunderstorm’s namesake harbinger sounds again. A flash of lightning. The rain is no longer a faint scattering of drops, now falling in an earnest deluge.

You both manage to escape being drenched, finding shelter beneath the porch roof in the knick of time, the imposter halting just in front of you. His chest is rapidly rising and falling, as if that brief exercise he’d just participated in was taxing him. You know that’s not the reason for those panted gasps for air, your own body mimicking that movement.

“Francis,” you say, but the name is drowned out by the growing ire of the storm.

He moves then, pressing you against the weathered clapboards near the living room window that overlooks the front yard. He cups your face between his hands and his lips crush yours. You respond without hesitation, kissing him back. Not giving yourself time to think about what you’re doing; to recall the dream you’d just had where you’d been destroyed by one of his kind.

“How did you find me?” You gasp when you part for air.

This utterance is barely audible, threaded between the next two bouts of thunder, muffled by the sound of the downpour. He slides his fingers against the harsh furrow on your arm. “I could sense where you were. Tracked you…” The words drowned out once again. His mouth moves close to your ear. “What did you say to them? What happened?”

“They bought it, for the most part, I think. The director is suspicious, though. I got suspended for a week.”

Another flash of lightning. It was foolish to remain outside any longer. You invite him in, struggling to fit the key in the lock, your trembling fingers not cooperating. His hand closes over yours, steadying you. The door surrenders, swinging inward.

It’s dark in the living room. You switch on the nearest lamp and toss your keys on the table.

“I’d offer you something to drink, but I don’t know if you still do that, or…” It was unknown what the doppelgängers consumed for nutrition. Perhaps it would be different now that they could occupy a human body and not merely disguise themselves as one.

“I do. But that can wait.”

“Did you know that would happen? You being able to trace my whereabouts when you cut me?”

“No. It’s uncharted territory. Like so much of…this,” he murmurs.

“You need to call Francis’ workplace. Explain to them that there was a family emergency. That’s the excuse I gave for the sudden absence. The DDD has been looking for you. Well, for him,” you correct yourself.

“They’ll expect me to return at some point.”

“Yes.”

“So you’ll let me in. To dwell there. And what of my brethren?”

“I can’t let them in. You know that.” You swallow nervously. “You can’t harm anyone. If I let you inside, you have to promise me you won’t. You got what you wanted. You got to be one of us. There’s no reason to hurt anyone else.”

A large clap of thunder makes you jump. The doppelgänger moves closer to you, tipping his head to one side thoughtfully. “You think I’ll cooperate?”

“We had a deal. I let you escape. I lied to protect you.”

“And I let you live. Both ends of the bargain fulfilled. There is no obligation beyond that.”

“You don’t want to hurt me.”

“Are you quite sure of that?” One arm circles your waist, drawing you against him. His fingers sift through your hair, tugging your head back slightly. “These hungers for the flesh are so distracting. How your kind manages them…” His voice trails off and his lips touch yours.

The light flickers and dies. You’ve lost electricity, now standing in the darkened room cradled by the deceiver.

“<i>The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep</i>…”

You inhale sharply, thinking of the Bible on Francis’ nightstand. Reading scripture like any good devout soul, learning verses by heart. That memory resurfacing now.

“Francis.” You know it’s no longer him, not in his purest, human essence, but this evolution still holds traces like this that you can’t help but hold dear.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” His hands slide down over the curve of your buttocks as he kisses the corner of your jaw. You guide him towards the nearby couch, watching him sink into the cushions before you climb into his lap, your shoes sliding off and falling to the hardwood floor. You run your fingers through his hair, your mouth ravaging his. It’s the parts of Francis that you love that you’re adoring, you tell yourself. Not the pretender, but the fragments of the man inside he still carries with him. That is what your fingers caress and your mouth cherishes. You unbutton his shirt the rest of the way, then reach for the belt buckle, jerking the leather strap free from the metal, all while your lips and tongue work in a frenzy over his.

The rain and the thunder becomes white noise, a nearly muted sound in the background as you unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper, the metal teeth parting to reveal white briefs. You touch his erection through that thin material, feeling the hard, thick line of it and he hisses, then groans somewhere near your neck.

“Yes, love, that’s what I need…”

You shove your hand beneath the elastic waistband and you make contact with feverish flesh. Another groan from the imposter. You sweep over the head of his cock, realizing he’s circumcised, smoothing leaking precum over the dome before you wrap your fingers around the shaft and begin stroking up and down. He moans into your mouth. It’s not the best angle, your hand a bit squashed awkwardly between your bodies. You slide off his thighs to sit beside him, never breaking contact, still pumping his prick, rolling your fingers over the crest as you reach the top, thumb dragging over the frenulum with each pass. Your tongue dances over his and you feel the arousal leaking from your own sex, soaking your panties.

Another glob of clear fluid oozes from the tip and your mouth waters. You want to taste it. Want to feel him in your mouth.

Your lips abandon his and he frowns, confused until he sees your head bowing over his lap, your body shifting as you engulf his turgid member. Another hissing sound of pleasure as the slightly musky flavor hits your taste buds. You haven’t fully taken him inside yet, only reaching close to halfway, applying suction as you move across that shallow expanse, allowing yourself to become accustomed to the length and girth of him. His fingers touch your head, not applying force, just resting there. You release his cock with a wet popping sound, stroking your saliva over his erection before taking him into your mouth again. You push deeper this time, forcing your lips closer to the base of his cock, to the nest of dark pubic hair. Your throat protests and you gag, the fingers on your head now tightening, pressing, urging you on.

“Sweet girl, that’s it, you can take it. All the way. Fuck.” The curse is something you’d never imagine coming from the milkman’s lips, but you find yourself aroused by it, the depravity of what you’re doing erotic. Your head bobs, dipping lower each time, eliciting an obscene wet squelching sound as his prick collides with your throat. There’s a higher pitch to his sounds of pleasure now. His hips lift to meet you, shoving him in as deep as he can reach while your nostrils flare, searching for a greater air supply.

Your nails dig into this thigh. The loosened belt buckle jingles with each thrust into that moist cavity you’ve provided. The fingers in your hair loosen, allowing you a brief respite. You withdraw and cough. A thick trail of saliva connects your lower lip to his glistening cock. Your fingers massage through the slick and he hums appreciatively. Your lips feel slightly numb, tingling from the stretch. There’s a burning sensation in your abused throat, a soreness when you swallow. But the discomfort is bearable. You want to do this. You want him to feel good.

You suck in a lungful of air and then begin again. You hear the replicant’s breathing becoming shallower, more rapid. He’s getting close. You redouble your efforts, moving fast and deep.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to make me…it’s so fucking good…”

His hips snap up and an acrid spill of semen floods your throat. It catches you by surprise and you choke around the pulsing erection. It’s a copious amount of seed that spills over your retreating tongue. You swallow down the last of the bitter fluid, straightening, dragging the back of your hand across your spit drenched chin.

“That was…you…” The creature is speechless. You can’t help but feel a little pride over that. He captures your lips, mulling over the taste he’s left there. “I want to taste you,” he says, and your pussy throbs. “I want you to cum inside my mouth.”

He moves off the couch, kneeling in front of you. Shoving at your skirt. You hurriedly hook your thumbs over the edge of your panties and drag them down, feeling how wet the crotch is as they drag across your legs. Scooting closer to the edge, spreading yourself open for him.

His face moves forward and his tongue parts your folds. Laving down to gather a sample of your arousal. Humming with approval at the taste of you as he focuses on your clit. A long, slow drag over the sensitive nub. You whimper. His thumbs wedge along either side of your sex, stretching the pink flesh further open. His mouth covers your cunt and he sucks and your thighs try to close, the sensation overwhelming.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re delicious.” Slurping on your clit now. You thread your fingers through his hair, caressing his head as his tongue flicks across the hooded button. He doesn’t need guidance this time. Everything is the way you like it. Dividing attention between your clitoris and the entrance of your pussy. Pushing that muscle inside, fucking you with his tongue, alternating with lapping at your bundle of nerve endings. You wish it wasn’t quite so dark. You want to see his eyes. You know he’s looking at you even if he can’t discern much in the dim gray light filtering in through the windows. Watching your reaction even as he feels it in his mouth. Hears the pleading, the needy gasps and moans, the whining that begins the closer you get to coming apart in his mouth.

He moans, too, and the vibrations of that sound add another layer to your pleasure. A finger makes its way inside you. Violated by a second soon after, thrusting while he sucks your clit. You climax, panting his name over and over, your fingers frantic in his hair, your pelvis quaking as your grind yourself against him.

Eventually your movements lessen. He eases back and your quivering legs draw closed. He rejoins you on the couch, his mouth on yours, gifting you a taste of yourself.

Then you sit quietly, listening to the diminishing storm outside. The rain drums on the roof and taps along the gutters with a soft metallic sound. Your face is tucked into the doppel’s shoulder, one hand resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, his arm curled around your shoulders.

You shouldn’t enjoy this. Any of this. You should be afraid, disgusted. Instead you feel oddly calm. Safe in his arms, even though you certainly aren’t. These alien beings were masters of deception and manipulation. You know better. It was foolish, what you were doing. Dangerous—for you, for everyone else.

But you’re convinced more than ever that some part of Francis is still buried within. The goodness of him negating the evil of this imposter.

“I’ll make the call in the morning.” The first words spoken in a long time. Your head lifts. “And I’ll move in to the apartments.”

“Just you. And you won’t harm anyone.”

“You ask for too much.”

“I’m giving up everything for you. Risking my job, my life, the lives of the people I’ve sworn to protect. My heart. My soul,” you finish with a whisper. “I don’t think you understand how many things I’m sacrificing.”

“I’m not human. It’s impossible for me to. There are no words for them in our language because they simply don’t exist.”

“But you want to be us. You should understand…”

“I will make the call and I will move in. Beyond that I am not promising you anything. Except…I do not want you harmed.” He reaches for your arm, tracing over the healing wound he’d inflicted. “I will try to prevent that, at least.”

A small concession, perhaps, but an important one nonetheless. If he was willing to spare you, maybe you could convince him to spare others.

Teach him the value of a human life while taming the monster within that wears the face of the man you love.

[winchesternova-k]

as has been the case so so many times, mcr managed to get me out of a panic spiral

[housethemd]

So in the episode where House is on methadone

Everyone is trying to figure out what’s going on with House, why he’s being nice, etc etc and eventually Wilson is just like “he’s on heroin.”

The surety with which Wilson says this really struck me. Like Wilson doesn’t just suggest House must on drugs that aren’t Vicodin, doesn’t even merely suggest House could be on heroin. No he says with absolute certainty that House is on heroin.

The only way Wilson could be so sure, would be if he’s seen House on heroin before.

Now while I’m quite convinced that House was an occasional recreational drug user prior to the infarction, heroin usually isn’t a drug you might take just for fun at a party every now and again. This leads me to believe that sometime in the early days post infarction is the most likely time House used heroin.

I’m imagining Wilson showing up after work to check on House. Stacy left weeks ago and House is still dealing with that on top of healing and being newly disabled so he’s been in a pretty god awful mood that only Wilson seems to be able to tolerate.

But when Wilson gets there House is in a better mood. Not just a better mood, he’s happy. Wilson knows immediately something is going on.

“What did you do? What did you take?” He’d ask. He knows people’s moods don’t change overnight like that, so either House took something or he’s planning to kill himself. Both are equally possible given his recent trauma and mental state, and Wilson needs to figure out which.

“What? Nothing. Well Vicodin but you know I’ve got a prescription for that.” House would reply, waggling his finger in Wilson’s direction like this is all some kind of joke.

Wilson frantically searches through everything within arms reach of House. Thankfully even with his better mood House can’t move very quickly, and Wilson manages to unearth a bag, and dashes out of House’s reach to open it. It’s filled with powder and syringes and Wilson has done enough ER shifts to know what it is.

“No, House. No. How did you even get this?” He’d ask, shocked.

“It’s easy when you know the right places to go.” House would say, not looking at Wilson anymore.

“The right places to… House you can barely get from the couch to the bathroom how the hell did you get this?”

“I guess I was sufficiently motivated.”

And Wilson’s heart breaks. He doesn’t have it in him to be mad at his friend. His life is upside down and House has never been good with change. Wilson does throw away the needles and flush the drugs and it pisses House off (“Do you know how much I paid for that?”) but once House calms down he makes House swear never again, that he won’t go down that road. Wilson says he’ll do anything, even write him more Vicodin prescriptions if he just promises not to use heroin again.

And House promises.

So when House is suddenly in an unexplainably good mood years later, Wilson thinks he knows exactly what’s going on. He’s angry, House promised. Wilson held up his end of the deal for the most part, so he comes up with a plan to catch House and make him admit to it.

But we all know how that plays out.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

wibta if i straight up told my s/o they can’t bring their dog when they move in with me?

i (early 20s ftm) and my partner (late 20s nb) are moving in together next year. we’ve been planning this for a couple of years now, but it’s been taking a while to plan out because we live on different continents and we needed to sort out visas, travel, work situation, and getting an apartment for us for when they arrive.

importantly to this story, my s/o has a dog. this dog is large and VERY loud - barking 24/7 at everything, crashing into furniture, loud whining, pushing people over, and growling at people who get too close to s/o.; this has included me whenever i visit.

the apartment we got has a one pet policy and all of our neighbours are elderly people as the building used to be assisted living (basically housing for the elderly where they have direct lines to nurses and disability accommodations). it’s a pretty small block, it’ll just be us, one guy across the hall, one woman directly below us, and one across the hall from her.

because of this, as soon as we got the apartment we realised we wouldn’t be able to feasibly take s/o’s dog. she’s too big for the apartment, she’s loud enough that all of the neighbours will be hearing her at all hours, and there is nowhere nearby she’ll get enough exercise for her size. on top of that, she’d have to be in quarantine for 6 months once she’s here as is my country’s policy for pets travelling which doesn’t seem fair to her, and this is AFTER a 15 hour long plane ride where she’ll be alone.

i will admit that i have kind of selfish reasons for this as well. i’m autistic and i have both anxiety and c-ptsd on top of that, and all of those things are set off by loud noise, especially loud noise that is constant or repeated. even when i’m on the phone with them, their dog is always barking and hurting my ears and sending me into sensory overload, as is how loud they have to speak over her and when they shout at her to quiet down etc. when i visit i have to make excuses to leave or go somewhere else for a breather because within minutes i’m so drained and overwhelmed and upset just because of the dog’s insanely loud barking. i was also attacked by a large dog when i was very little and ever since then i’ve been wary around Big dogs, so although i want to work on it and i’ve been trying to (i love dogs), having one so big and jumpy be aggressive and growling at me makes me incredibly on edge.

s/o was sad because they really love their dog but ultimately agreed, on the condition we can get a cat instead as they’ve always wanted one but were never allowed. i agreed to that, i’m much more of a dog person and i’m a little sad we won’t be able to get one but a cat seems a fair compromise for them having to leave their dog and i don’t mind cats either, it will be easier to care for and hopefully just as cuddly!

so i thought that was all agreed on and done with

months later i mention looking into cats and they go “but wait! that means i cant bring my dog!” like this was the first time it had occurred to them. i was kind of caught off guard and was just like “…yeah, but we can get you your cat instead!” and the conversation kind of died out and moved on quickly

but ever since then they’ve been making little comments about bringing their dog and what we’ll do with her when we live together and it just… doesn’t seem to be sinking in that they cannot bring their dog.

i feel awful because like. i can’t emphasise enough how much they love this dog. they cuddle up together in bed, they’re always calling for her, always talking about her, always taking pictures of her. when they visit me they talk about missing her.

i know when it comes down to it they’ll choose to move in with me over staying to keep her, but i worry that i’m being selfish by making them choose in the first place. i feel like i need to make it clear once and for all that the dog absolutely cannot come with them and make sure it sticks, but i honestly don’t know how to do it in a way that will make them realise while not hurting their feelings because we’ve already gone over the reasons and they initially agreed.

AITA for making my s/o give up their beloved dog?

What are these acronyms?

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Behind the Crime

Warren Lipka x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, dominate warren, underage drinking, underage smoking, use of marijuana, rough sex, hint of choking, talk of robbery, um yeah i think that’s it

summary: from the moment you were brought into the heist, you knew working with warren was going to be hard…

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for not posting guys i have not been on the grind lately. i watched this movie and omfg evan was so attractive i just needed to write. if you’re the real warren lipka just scroll this is about evan…

~~~

You sit back in your chair, the crew members adjusting your mic. You’re starting to regret doing this interview, but it’s too late to back out now. Everything’s already set up, the camera is about to be rolling. The interviewer is sitting a few feet away from you, notes in his hand. He waits for you to give him the signal that you’re ready. You nod, he begins.

“So, y/n, how did you become involved with the group?” He asks.

“I was first approached by Spencer when I was eating lunch outside one day...”

~~~

You were sitting alone, the cool fall breeze almost too cold to be comforting. You didn’t pay much mind to it though, you were more focussed on your studying. You were flipping through the pages of another history article when suddenly there was a presence beside you. Looking up at them as soon as you noticed, you recognized the boy as someone from your class.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your tone polite.

He looked nervous as if he were about to ask you out. “Hi, uh, I don’t know if you remember my name, I’m Spencer we have Art History together.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you,” you replied. “Do you need help with the homework or something?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, if you’re not busy or anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

You look away for a second before replying. “Sure, sit down if you want I’m not busy.”

He smiled at you before quickly sitting at the spot across from you. He put his bag on the table, you could see him take a deep breath. Was he really going to ask you out? You thought he was cute, but definitely not your type. You started to pray he wouldn’t say anything along those lines.

“I started to ask around a week or two ago about people who are good with computers and stuff, a lot of people told me you were the best person to go to,” he started. He lacked confidence in his voice, you felt bad for the poor guy but paid close attention to his words. “I need some... help with cameras.”

“What kind of cameras?” You asked, intrigued.

What he was saying was true, you were decently good with computers. You mostly would hack into places and disable things you didn’t like, like the cameras on the public library computers. It wasn’t anything illegal, at least you didn’t think it was illegal. It probably was, but you didn’t care.

“Just you know cameras in... semipublic places...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what kind though? Phone, laptop, desktop, security?”

“Security,” he answered quietly. “But before you say no listen, how does a couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of payment sound?

“What?”

“I won’t tell you the details till I know you’re on board but let's just say something is going down and we need help with the cameras. The pay would be huge and all you’d have to do is just mess with some cameras for like twenty minutes.”

You only stared at him; your mouth slightly hung open. Was he being serious? Was he really asking you to join him in a potential robbery that would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars? You never would’ve expected to be asked such a question on a cloudy Thursday at lunch. You shut your book completely and look around to make sure nobody is close.

“This money, it’s guaranteed?”

He nods. “As long as we get the job done, you’ll have it.”

You knew it was crazy, you knew whatever was going to happen would either result in you going to prison or having to run off into hiding. But the thought of being able to pay all your student loans off and have extra money to live off of was more appealing. Hacking into cameras wasn’t that hard, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Unless it was.

“If you’re trying to get me to make sure a murder or rape isn’t on camera I’ll snitch,” you warned him.

“Oh no, nothing like that is happening at all. It’s just you know a robbery,” he replied, his expression genuine.

You nodded your head, convinced whatever he was asking couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.”

~~~

“What was your first impression of the guys?

You smile. “They were really cool, funny, just overall really fun people to hang out with.”

“Do you remember the first time you met all of them?”

“Of course, like it was yesterday...”

~~~

The house you sat in front of didn’t look like a typical criminal's house. It looked like an average American’s family house actually. You were parked out on the road outside the house Spencer told you to go to, you were meeting the rest of the people involved with the robbery. It had been about ten minutes of you sitting out there debating whether or not to go in before you got a text from Spencer asking where you were. You sighed, praying to God this decision was the right one before getting out of your car.

You knocked on the front door with a shaky fist. You started to regret your decision, you thought about turning around and leaving, but the door was opened before you could act on it. An older woman stood in front of you, she looked to be in her 50s.

“Oh, you’re very pretty,” she said, making your cheeks turn red. “You’re here to see Warren, right?”

You had no idea who Warren was, but you nodded. The lady's smile grew, and she opened the door for you and ushered you inside. She directed you to the basement entrance, asking you a million questions you had no answers to. After those few but excruciating painful minutes though, you walked down the basement stairs and finally caught sight of Spencer.

There were three other guys in the room and all of their eyes were on you. Two, along with Spencer, were sitting on a couch. One of them was skinny with glasses, the other muscular with no glasses. They didn’t grasp your attention though. The last guy who was standing did. He had long dark curly hair, and eyes to match. His eyes met yours before you watched them slowly move up and down your body. You didn’t know how to react.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Spencer said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, I’m Eric,” the guy with glasses introduced himself.

“Chas,” the muscular guy spoke, not paying much attention to you. “Are you sure this was a good idea, Spence? How much do we really know about this chick? No offense.”

“Shut up, we agreed,” Spencer hissed. He waved you over and you complied, walking to the couch and sitting on the end beside him.

The standing guy took a step forward and held out his hand to you. You looked up at him before accepting his handshake. His hand was rough, you liked the feeling of it in yours. “I’m Warren and you are our cameraman or woman I guess.”

You laughed. “I guess.”

“How much has Spencer told you?” Warren asked after letting go of your hand and stepping back. It was then you noticed the maps on the wall with drawings all over them, the layout looked familiar.

“Just that I need to hack some cameras and that it’ll pay me a lot,” you answered. “I don’t even know what you guys are stealing.”

“Well y/n, I’m sure you’ve been to your own school's library right?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever taken a tour of the library’s rare book collection?”

You nodded again.

Warren smirked. “Then you know exactly what we’re stealing.”

Your face fell and you immediately looked at Spencer and the rest of the guys. “Are you serious? You guys want to steal historic books?”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Chas mumbled from his chair.

“Shut up Chas,” Warren quickly snapped. He looked back at you, his dark eyes engulfing yours completely. “We’ve been planning this out for months, and you are the last piece to our puzzle y/n. Think about how much you’ll be earning.”

You didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a bad idea.

~~~

“Chas eventually stopped being cold to me, I actually think in the end he became my closest friend in the group,” you say, finishing your story.

The interviewer gives you a look. “Well, besides Warren right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, a confused look on your face.

“I have to ask if the stories are true, you know about you and him. The other guys say something changed between the two of you after a party you all attended. I mean, didn’t the police even question if your involvement had a deeper meaning than simply the money?”

You shake your head, giving your best performance. “Me and Warren were only ever best friends, there was never a deeper meaning behind anything.”

~~~

Music was pumping through your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head you could feel it. It had been a few weeks since you met the guys, and they all wanted to do something fun before the heist. So, a frat party was naturally the easiest option. That’s where you were now, already two shots and half a joint in. You didn’t know where Spencer, Nick, and Warren were, but Chas was dancing with you.

Though the two of you got off on the wrong foot, you and Chas quickly learned how well you get along. He was a good friend, all of the guys were. You liked how easily they could make you laugh and brighten your mood. They were all good people who you enjoyed being around.

Warren was the only one that you felt different for. You didn’t know why, but from the first day you met you knew your feelings for him would be different than the other three. The way he looked at you alone was completely different than the others. There was always something darker in his eyes, something you knew wasn’t supposed to be there for simply a friend. Every time the two of you looked at each other, your stomach filled with butterflies. You wanted it too. But in those first few weeks, nothing had happened. No matter how much either of you wanted it.

After some minutes of you and Chas dancing, Warren and Spencer appeared. They asked if the two of you wanted to go out and smoke, you both agreed and followed them outside the back. Not too many people were in the backyard, but there were enough for there to be a bonfire going. The four of you found an empty spot near the fire and sat down. Warren took out a joint and lit it before passing it around.

“Where’s Nick?” You asked after taking a hit.

Spencer shrugged. “Probably with the weird kids doing weird stuff.”

“He’s not that weird,” Chas replied. “He’s just awkward.”

You watched as Warren took another long hit of the joint. Because of the weed and alcohol, you found yourself even more attracted to him than when you were sober. You wanted so desperately to run your fingers through his hair, you wanted to hear his voice as you touched him. He suddenly met your gaze, his lips curled up into a mesmerizing smile. You wanted to kiss him. It was too much for you to handle.

You swallowed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your shorts. “I need to um use the bathroom.”

You didn’t wait for any of their replies. Instead, you rushed back into the house straight to the kitchen. You poured yourself a shot, downing it before giving it a second thought. You needed these feelings to go away. How were you supposed to work with Warren if you couldn’t even look at him without thinking about having sex with him? It made you feel awful. A hookup couldn’t be the reason the robbery went bad, you refused to let that happen.

After another shot, you started to forget about your feelings. In fact, you started to forget about Warren completely. All you felt was the burning sensation of the alcohol in your stomach and chest, it felt good. You stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway, grabbing the railings of the staircase for support. Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you, their hand on your back.

“Y/N, are you good?” It was Warren.

You turned your head and looked at him, God how could he look even better? “No- I’m not okay.”

“You’re wasted, you need some water,” he said. He moved his hand around your waist and pulled you up straight. You felt like you were on fire. “Come on, back to the kitchen.”

“Why are you here? I just- I just wanna forget about you,” you mumbled.

He started helping you walk back to the kitchen. “What? Why would you want to forget about me?”

“Because... I want you but I can’t have you. I thought you- felt the same that’s why it’s been so hard to resist,” you spoke, stumbling over your words. “I can’t look at you without thinking about you fucking me.”

Even in your drunken state, you could still see the cockiness on Warren’s face. He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly before turning and getting you a cup of water. You leaned your head back against one of the cabinets, your head was spinning. You couldn’t think straight.

“Drink,” Warren’s voice filled your ears.

You lifted your head and grabbed the solo cup from his hand, downing the water faster than ever. When you finished, you threw the cup to the floor, your eyes meeting Warren’s once again. He was standing close enough that if you reached, you could touch him.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, or perhaps it was because of how long you’d felt the tension between you two, that gave you the courage to gently place your hand on the top of his head. His hair was soft, just like you’d expected it to be. You smiled and played with his curls. He didn’t object, you were glad. You needed this.

“Do you want me?” You asked, your voice barely audible against the loud music.

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “I thought so, but I could always be wrong.”

“Maybe I should make it clearer,” he said. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand off his head before stepping closer to you. “If this house wasn’t crowded, I’d fuck you right here, right now.”

Your heart was racing, your cheeks bright red. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Warren was still holding your wrist, it sent electric shocks throughout your body. His eyes began to shift from your eyes to your lips and so on. You swallowed; a lump had formed in your throat.

“There’s probably an empty room somewhere,” you mentioned. “You could take me to one of them and show me you mean what you say.”

Warren raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, you’re pretty drunk.”

“I’m not- I swear. I consent, I’ll remember all of this in the morning,” you replied quickly.

“All right.”

Before you could say anything else, Warren scooped you into his arms and began to carry you through the house. You didn’t know whether to pretend you were drunk so it wouldn’t look suspicious or stay awake to also not make it look suspicious. You chose to stay awake and within minutes you and Warren were alone in a bedroom, your lips connected.

The kiss was fast and rough, everything you expected from him. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he towered over you. You wasted no time, immediately kicking off your shoes and pushing Warren back until he fell onto the bed. He pulled you on top of him, guiding your hips in slow motions over his clothed erection. You felt like you were on fire, you needed more.

You broke this kiss and leaned back so you were straddling him. You pulled off your shirt and bra, Warren followed your actions. Once your eyes fell upon his toned abdomen, you audibly moaned. You quickly leaned down again and kissed his chest, beginning a trail down his body. Each breath that left his mouth made your pussy drip even more. And when you reached his navel, his breaths turned into soft whispers.

“Keep going.”

“Please.”

“I’ll do anything.”

When you no longer had any skin left to kiss you looked back up at him, his eyes were already on you. He got your signal and instantly pulled his shorts and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. You weren’t surprised at his size; you had a feeling he’d be big. You started off by slowly stroking him with your hand, the expressions on his face already enough to make you cum.

After a minute or so of that, you bent down and pressed a small kiss to his tip. You loved the way his leg twitched. It made you proud. So, you took him into your mouth. He gasped, one of his hands finding its way to the back of your head. He didn’t push you; he only twirled your hair back into a ponytail-like style and gripped it tight. You moved your head up and down, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. You were never a fan of giving head to guys, but with Warren, it was a different story.

Not much time passed before Warren pushed you gently, telling you he wasn’t going to last much longer. You didn’t care, you wanted him to finish in your mouth. But he told you he wanted to have sex, so you stopped. You peeled off your shorts and underwear before you climbed back onto him. His naked body against yours felt unreal, you were almost convinced this was all part of your drunken imagination.

However, when Warren pulled your head down and began to kiss your lips again, you knew it had to be real. His hands gripped your ass, kneading and playing with your skin. You positioned his tip at your entrance, you were so wet you didn’t need any lube. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, you wanted to know it was okay. He gave you a nod and so you began to push yourself down on him.

He filled you well, just the perfect amount. You had thrown your head back, a moan escaping your lips. You hadn’t had sex in months, and this was the perfect way to break that streak. You started to move your body forward and backward while simultaneously going up and down. Warren’s grip on your ass tightened with each movement you made.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned. “You do it so well.”

Your confidence was boosted; you began to move faster. This only lasted a few minutes though, much to your dismay. You weren’t too athletic; you didn’t have good stamina. Warren noticed this, and without saying anything he flipped your bodies. Once on top of you, he began violent thrusts. You almost screamed from the pleasure; you’d never felt anything remotely close to it in your life. He hit your cervix each time, it made your back arch off the mattress and your nails dig into his back.

“Warren,” you whimpered. “Oh, fuck Warren.”

One of his hands wrapped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, he just rested it there. You felt the knot in your stomach form at this. It felt so good to be dominated by him. It had been your dream for weeks, and it had finally come true. You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Warren fucking you fill your senses.

When you came, you practically screamed his name. You swore you could see stars. You’d never experienced an orgasm so hard in your life. Warren came a few seconds after you, you felt his dick pulsing inside you. He collapsed on you. You didn’t care about how his weight crushed you, you still held him as the two of you began to come down from your highs.

~~~

As the crew packs up, you remain in your chair, staring blankly out one of your windows. The interviewer is still across from you, but you don’t notice until he speaks.

“Just tell me one thing, off the record,” he says, grabbing your attention. “Did you love him?”

A small smile grows on your lips. “With all my heart.”

[flowercrowncrip]

Inaccessible tech is such a vicious cycle it’s beyond frustrating. My computer knowledge is dreadful for someone my age, and I know it’s dreadful but it’s incredibly hard for me to do anything about it.

Dragon, the software I use to control my computer with my voice costs £679.99. I have access to it through a scheme to help disabled people in work – without a job I’d have to pay for it myself or find another source of funding (without access to a laptop/ PC).

The software is great in many ways, but limiting in others. It’s mainly targeted at able bodied professionals as a way of dictating quickly, so while it’s absolutely brilliant for dictating into a word document, it’s a bit more tricky to control your computer with it.

One of the biggest problems though is that I can’t easily try out different software and browsers. Google docs aren’t as compatible with my software as word is. I can’t learn about alternatives because it’s a lot of time invested in something that probably won’t work well.

Each different browser requires me to download a different extension so that Dragon can interact properly with the pages. Until that’s all set up, rather than just being able to click on things I have to guide the curser through a series of increasingly small numbered grids to the right point on the screen like this: “mouse grid [pause] 3 [pause] nine [Pause] one [pause] two [pause] Mouse left click”).

But Firefox, the browser I’m most often recommended to use, I can’t use. From what I can tell there used to be an extension but Firefox now considers the Dragon extension to be a security risk and won’t allow it to be installed. I’ve looked into finding alternative ways to download the extension, but it gets really complicated really quickly – especially when each and every mouse click takes so long. After failing several times I gave up.

And it’s frustrating because if using a computer wasn’t so difficult l me, I would probably be better at finding my way around these kinds of obstacles better.

And if technology wasn’t so expensive and difficult to access more disabled people would be creating better software and hardware for disabled people.

Similarly if adaptive controllers were less expensive I might know more than I do about gaming. And more game producers might be disabled, or might create games with disabled people in mind.

But we’re stuck trying to make do with technology that’s either financially out of reach, incredibly limited or both and it means it’s incredibly hard to learn enough to come anywhere close to solving those issues (or being able to properly describe them in the first place)

[anti-endo-haven]

What’s the real harm done by someone who became plural due to being a writer, which is actually an incredibly common experience?

What’s the real harm done by someone whose religious or spiritual practices involve plurality due to sharing their mind with those who they worship?

What’s the real harm in someone who views their imaginary friends as headmates in order to cope with loneliness, isolation, or mental illness?

This blog is not doing the good you think it is. Being anti-endo is not such a noble thing, and it actually comes across as bigoted in a lot of ways, the very least of which is dismissive to those of other spiritual beliefs and ableist to those who are literally disabled who still experience plurality without trauma.

Being plural by writing is not a common experience.

I have never seen any other spiritual practices need someone or make someone become plural.

The harm doesn’t come by imaginary friends.

The real harm that all of what you said does is the further demonization of endogenics, “non-traumagenic system,” and people like you do to a disorder that is cherry picked from. The harm is that you will always scream “bigot” and “ableist” like a boy that will always cry wolf because you’re not getting your way. The harm is that the more endogenics, “non-traumagenics,” tulpagenics, and people that support these people take away resources from OSDDID systems.

I cannot find a therapist that supports what I need. I cannot find a therapist that will openly say that they will support OSDD or DID. I cannot find a therapist that will help support me to heal from OEA. The more people fake, the worse it becomes for systems. The harm done to genuine systems who cannot get out of endo and pro-endo spaces because of this sort of thing that you do.

Tulpagenics have taken away a practice so dear to those that participated and has offended a culture. You cannot be so daft as to think that anti-endos are the ones causing harm.

I’m here as a means of giving community to people like me a place to get away from people like you. If you can’t accept that, block me and move on. You can believe what you want to believe but do not put it here.

I don’t care if I’m being noble or not, I don’t care if someone sees me as doing something amazing. I care on having a community that won’t shove things down my throat as a means of conforming to the masses. I’m used to being infamous with a terrible reputation, I don’t care if that never changes. It will be expected of me to do bad things so I’m as free as I’ll ever need to be.

And I can continue being free from the muck you’ve spilled here.

You cannot be plural without trauma. Just because some don’t remember their trauma doesn’t mean that those that know are noble either.

You’re not noble for coming here.

You and the people that want to scream what you do are the ones that treat a disorder like a gender identity and the ones that want to harm others and tell others terrible things because you can’t handle it.

You can’t get everything you want in life. Best to learn it young.

Get off of my blog, my page, and away from my people. Go ass kiss to yours and I’ll continue treating mine like royalty.

[strang3lov3]

Edit 4/5/24 - Aya’s taken my fic down, and I promised to take down my posts about her plagiarism if she’d apologize to me for hurting me. She didn’t, so these posts are staying up. I blocked her and let her know she’s more than welcome to send an ask from a side blog apologizing. This behavior is unacceptable.

Update about my plagiarized fic/ayadrafts (original post here)

Tw-fatphobia, violent threats

First, I wanna say thank you to everyone who is showing up and sticking up for me. Eddie stans, Joel stans, writers and readers both. I love and appreciate you so much. I know a good amount of you have reported ayadrafts and that’s awesome. If anyone in the comments is able to let others know how to do the same, that would be greatly appreciated.

To be honest, I’m not entirely sure how to update this so I think we’ll just go through the timeline.

Explanation below.

Last time I talked about this yesterday where I wasn’t responding to an ask, I showed screenshots of ayadrafts’ messages with others, how she laughed at both them and me. I posted and reblogged with screenshots of countless deleted comments. That was in late afternoon. During that time, people repeatedly commented on Ayadrafts’ post calling out her blatant theft of my work and even alerted blogs that had reblogged/liked her post that it was stolen from me. Ayadrafts has admitted to stealing my fic, but simply does not care or feel bad.

What I did not see and what I do not have screenshots of is Ayadrafts telling individuals to k*ll themselves. It seems that she gets a comment, replies to it, and then deletes both within seconds. Multiple people, both friends and strangers have let me know that this was taking place.

As if she could not get any lower. Laughing in my face, mocking my work, and then telling people to k*ll themselves? Absolutely abhorrent and frankly, fucking cruel.

But apparently others who were defending me were cruel right back to her. From what I’ve heard, I believe people who were commenting remained fairly civil, even if ayadrafts herself did not like the comments. I’ve received asks about this and I’m disappointed to hear that people were in her asks calling her a fat cunt and other abhorrent things. That’s a low blow and does not reflect me or my values.

Believe me, I understand the anger. I’ve never met someone so antisocial and uncaring. I am angry too. Fucking livid. But that doesn’t give me or anyone else the right to say something just as heinously cruel back to her. I don’t condone anyone being sexist, fatphobic, homophobic, racist, or hateful on my behalf. None of these things will ever be tolerated by me, even if they’re being used to “defend” me. Not okay with that in the slightest.

Take the high road, don’t give this person any more ammo to be any more cruel and atrocious than she’s already being.

After this, ayadrafts disabled replies on her post of my stolen fic for the night and everything quieted down for the most part. Today, I see that she’s got those replies back on and is likely looking for another fight, blocking and unblocking people. Because, like I said yesterday, it is evident that she has a clear need for negative attention, and all of this is a game to her.

If you wanna participate in that game, you’ve got my consent. Spam the shit out of her, annoy her through posts like this and this. I don’t care, because frankly I am past the point of sympathy with her, and I think I’ve been way too forgiving up to this point. Maybe she’ll cave and delete my fic like I’ve repeatedly asked her to do. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But it’s entirely possible she won’t, and that she’ll double down even harder, and that by continuing to fuel the fire she’ll only debase herself further and in doing so make us all feel worse. Were you all drained watching this go down yesterday? Because I sure as shit was.

So at some point I might ask you all that we just drop it, for both the sake of my mental health and your own. I think we’re all unbelievably hurt and upset, but we need to be able to walk away at some point. The reality is, we can keep this going forever but hateful, spiteful people like this don’t often thrive long without something to feed on.

I’ve reported her post multiple times, tweeted at tumblr, and I’ve heard nothing but crickets. It is what it is.

[hemipenal-system]

this thread is fucking long and the cut is in an awkward place just bear with it please

so werewolves are a stock horror villain (and the posts directly below this one are about that! go look at them) and don’t get me wrong i love werewolf horrorsmut but i want to see more of:

werewolves who just aren’t scary in any way. like sure the shift may be scary. they may look kinda scary. but they’re just people like everyone else even if they are more ruled by instinct than the average human. i think stuff like that is a nice way to explore what it means to be a person and how humanity can be a fluid category, especially when the werewolves in question are transgender/disabled/personality disorder coded.

like i want some wholesome shit about werewolves who can’t even pass as ambiguously human. they’re just very overtly werewolves: massive sharp, snarling bundles of taut muscles and sinew, 8, 9 feet tall, who are very capable of snapping and killing everything around them

but don’t. because they’re treated well and loved even though they’re not like everyone else. and it doesn’t matter that they aren’t, because they are like everyone else even if they’re not. i know that sounds a bit confusing on the face but i mean stuff like:

- “oh yeah no worries, Sharon from accounting’s a wolf too! no no we love her! remember when we went to topgolf for that company outing? they couldn’t find any clubs in her size so she outdrove us all with clubs a foot too short it was hysterical!”

- “all right you should be scheduled for this week! next two weeks are the same? no right of course not because you need moon days. yeah that’s totally fine i will get that in to HR and you should be all good!”

- “is- no it’s fine- is it ok if i stay shifted in here? the pain is less bad when i’m shifted. no i have no idea why lol. you’re sure? the shedding is ok and everything? aww sweetie i love you too!”

- “i mean, hip dysplasia is normal in wolves your age, and you had fairly active teenage years, so it happens. it’s not anything to worry about though, i’ll get you in contact with a fantastic physical therapist! no she specializes in wolf patients. she’s great at what she does, i promise. i’ll get you a month of painkillers but over-the-counter should work alright too. take these, go to therapy, and if it’s still doing that in a month come back and we can try something else.”

- “hey, baby, look at me. i know people are staring at you. you don’t need to care about them. you have just as much right to be here as they do. just ignore them.”

- “no i’m absolutely not mad at you! you can’t control that happening! no it was a full moon what the fuck were you supposed to do? look, i can replace the couch you mauled and the TV and vases you broke but i can’t replace you getting hurt because you tried to stave off the shift. we’ll go shopping for new ones together, ok? and we’ll get some cheap shit you can break for next month and a couple steaks for you to fuck up. i promise i’m not mad- hey get off me you big lug stop fucking licking me your mouth tastes like couch cushions…”

- “it’s actually so real to be worried about hurting your human partner in bed. you won’t hurt her, dude, i’ve known her for years you should be more scared of her than she is of you. they make, like, these rings. it’s like a silicone spacer- no it goes on your dick, idiot. it’s so you don’t like fuck into her cervix or whatever. supposedly those help? idk if they come in wolf sizes though.”

show me the negative stuff, too. show me:

- werewolves who muzzle themselves in cities even though it’s only a first quarter moon because they’re scared they’ll snap and hurt someone even though that fear makes them so careful around everyone they never would

- wolves who have moon trackers on their phone because they need to know when they’re going to get forced into a shift so they can get away from everyone because they don’t want to get violent but they can’t control it and the last time they were around someone she ended up in the hospital. she’s really understanding about it and they’re friends now but it doesn’t make it feel any less horrible

- wolves who get asked every single fucking time they get nice dinner, “so do you want your steak cooked, or what?” by waiters who think they’re funny but really aren’t

- werewolves who walk on eggshells in public because they know if they make any minor mistake or show any aggression whatsoever the pundits on the news will talk about “a werewolf snarled at my kid today. i mean i try to be trusting but you never know with those people. they have those fangs for a reason is all i’m saying.”

- werewolves who are scared to shift in public for the same reason as above, because they know how they’ll be perceived if they show people they’re a wolf

- werewolves who can’t find wolf doctors in their area so they keep going back to human doctors who don’t know how the fuck to treat their unique health conditions and when they complain about this they get a flippant “have you tried a veterinarian?”

- werewolves in therapy because their last relationship was with a human who sucked and it was really bad and that trauma has manifested as resource guarding and reactivity issues and it’s causing problems at work

i love this stuff. i want more. i also cannot write conclusion paragraphs to save my life so this is the end now. thanks for reading all this if you’re reading this.

😊

[mishwanders]

• The Chain (and others) with a disabled traveling companion •

Summary: The chronic pain is hitting me badly today and I can hardly walk, so I’m doing little headcanons to make myself feel better.

Warnings: this won’t cover in depth or all types of disabilities, just in general things and the ones that I can think of off of the top of my head. Quite a bit of hurt/comfort/whumpy/fluffy stuff. There of course is mention of medical items and different illnesses, but other than that, safe for everyone.

Author’s Notes: Written by Mishwanders. Happy Disability Pride Month 💕

Time

The most attentive about it in the group, even more so if he sees you struggling beside him.

He’s the one who literally has the time of your medications, walking time/distance down - it’s all memorized in his head. Could probably look up at the sky and back to you and just know, ya know?

If you need someone to lean on - he’s your guy, he’s built like a tree that will stay rooted in place in the middle of a dangerous storm so long as you need him.

Also has one of the softest laps, so if you need a seat that ain’t the ground, by all means, have at it. He will keep his arm around you waist to make sure you don’t fall over. Feel free to lean back if you need to, he won’t let you down.

Twilight

He’s just as attentive as Time about it. Constantly offering Epona for you to ride so you don’t have to walk as long and even offers his own back if you’d rather ride piggyback/on top of wolfie (if you are as small as Four that is).

Can also lean on him for support if Time is busy. He’s built like an Ox, so you don’t have to worry about being too heavy for him.

Got anxiety or have other mental illness issues? He picks up on that quickly, even more so in wolfie form. He will come to your side or will practically lay across your lap to get your attention and allow you to pet him to get your mind off of things.Will even let you wear his pelt if it makes you feel better. Truly the warmest anxiety blanket there is.

Have epilepsy? He’s quick to catch that too in wolfie form and alert the others that something is happening so they can help him tend to you. He won’t leave your side at all until he knows your okay.

Wild

Big help in the food area - will make sure you’ve eaten so you can take your meds and will ensure he gives you a little extra so you have something for later.

Have a feeding tube? That’s new to him, but if you’re willing to teach him the ins and outs of it, he’s willing to help you with that to ensure the food is made and blended thoroughly to go through.

He pays attention to any food allergies you have to make sure he doesn’t give you something you’re allergic to and so there’s no cross contamination.

Got panic attacks? He gets that, they all get that, but especially him. He’ll sit beside you and hold your hand if you need it, be a shoulder for you to cry on and assure you that things will be okay.

Four

Got pulled into their world without your cane(s)? Smithy is ON IT! Probably will make it double as a weapon as well.

If he’s split into the colors, you know they’re all bickering on how exactly it should look and how to give it to you.

He makes sure everything is exactly to your needs and specifications. Not too heavy and not too light - absolutely perfect.

He’s proud that he’s able to help you out by making anything you could ever need

Legend

Have something you need (rest, meds, a ride, etc.) but too afraid to say something about it? Legend will speak up for you. It’s no problem to him because he wants you to be okay.

He will also be one of the ones to help get unwanted attention off of you and would be willing to fight someone over it.

Need something to double as a weapon (magical cane?) - he’s got something for that.

Will only allow you to have it and will sneak it in to ya so the others don’t pester him about it (but they’ll all know - that’s just how they are).

Hyrule

He may not be able to make all of your problems magically disappear, but he will try to help ease some of the pain if he can do so.

Got the healing potions locked and loaded babes.

Will also be the one to stay up with you if you’re feeling extra ill on the harder nights/days, especially if the others are asleep, taking the nights watch, or having to attend to other situations (baddies, getting food/firewood, etc.)

Like the others, he wants to make sure you’re okay and is willing to do what it takes to ensure that.

Warriors

Just like Legend, your #1 boy for distracting others away from you - a true human shield.

Someone staring rudely at you because you have tubes, colostomy bag, a cane, using a wheelchair, or any other needs? Wars is stepping in between and staring right back at them, giving them the same attitude 100x over.

He’ll always ask if you’re alright, trying to gauge the emotional situation after that. He knows what it’s like to have another stare rudely at the scars on his hand and he wants to make sure you’re okay.

Will also be your human shield if you need to change something out but are unable to get anywhere in a more private location. As a matter of fact - they all would, but especially him.

Sky

Biggest softy for ya, really empathizes a lot with your disability and wants to do what he can to try and help ease any issues that occur during the travel.

If Twilights pelt is too heavy - he’s 100% allowing you to wrap yourself in his sail cloth if you need it for comfort and warmth.

Four also gets his expertise in wood carving for your cane and he puts little designs in it that Four will in-lay with metal after.

Will put his stuff together with yours if you need extra padding on the hard ground to keep from hurting. Any extra clothes of his he’ll pitch in his bag and allow you to use it for any leg/hip pain you may have.

Wind

Little guy can’t do too much, but you know what he can do? Distract you.

Very good at trying to keep your mind busy if the pain becomes to much.

You may have heard a few of the same stories twice, but he puts a lot of expression into it to try and get you to laugh.

Will also sit there and listen to you talk about things you like to help keep your mind off of the pain.

Bonus characters because I feel like it -

Sage

Do you need a wheel chair? Would you like to not need to walk long miles? DO I HAVE THE BOY FOR YOU -

Now granted, that wheelchair may come with a super powered rocket - but truly it’s the thought that counts first, and then your safety second. Don’t be afraid to tell him how you need it to be, he’ll make sure it’s done correctly the second time around.

Just like Wild, super attentive about the food and any allergies you might have.

If you have any phantom pains from an amputated limb (or even nerve damage), he’s willing to be there by your side and provide you with whatever comfort you need.

Fierce Deity

Protective af over you, very watchful. He’s got a keen sense of awareness when he knows there’s something wrong and you need immediate attention even before you as or look at him.

Good chance he will just carry you everywhere he goes - he’s so big he may even just strap you to his back if you’re small enough to do so.

The definition of “have you eaten?”. Will make sure you well fed and able to continue on the journey a little longer before getting to a rest stop.

Curl up in his lap if you’re able to do so, he will hold you there all night and be a big warm bed away from the ground.

Dark Link (aka Dinkster)

Will take any form for you to ride on and keep off of your legs.

Does not know what medicine is but is willing to learn so he can provide it for you when needed.

Ensures that you have time to rest while he scouts out the hero’s and drops more baddies where he desires.

Won’t even ask what you need, will just do it for you because he can already sense it.

Malon

She has a little comfy pillow made just for you when you ride around with her on the cart to castle town.

Will go mom mode if you try to lift a milk crate that’s too heavy for you.

She always makes sure to pack an extra chair for ya so you have somewhere to rest while out in square selling Lon Lon milk.

Also has a box of other items specifically for ya and your needs, just in case you need them!

Ravio

I would like for this man to haggle the price down on my insurance stuff. I think he’d be great at it.

He would also haggle another merchant down on items you need - seriously, let him do it, he’s got this!

Will always keep an eye out for better things to replace your old supplies.

All around, happy to be of service to you and have your service in return!

Epona

You may be thinking “what’s a horse gonna do?” And I’m here to tell ya, horses are some of the greatest animals on earth for this kind of thing.

Epona can sense something is different there and that you need extra care. Sweet baby is gonna do her best not to rock you too much when you ride on her back.

You know how wolfie might lay on your lap? Epona is gonna do the same thing, placing her head on your lap to rest and to comfort you.

She will neigh when she thinks somethings wrong, trying to get Twilight or Times attention to help you. 1000/10 best baby girl.

[theskeptileptic]

my dream peter parker/batfam fanfic would be like a borscht of all the best tropes from ao3 with these seasonings:

au divergence after end game. but instead of tony snapping, peter snaps. he’s dead, he’s died, except maybe the stones hear his last wish as “keep them safe” and interprets it broadly to mean him too—so they yeet him to the dc universe.

but he’s not magically healed. so his arm/side is charred and damaged and his healing is taking care of brain damage but only the worst of it. boy’s got amnesia and a paralyzed arm and landed, let’s say, exactly where the NY battle against Thanos was being held but in this universe, that happens to be a Bristol skatepark at eleven-thirty at night

where a sixteen year-old tim drake is angsting pretty hard and struggling with his own recovery post a Rogue smack down that has left him with some newly acquired, long-term physical disabilities

(and tim, who has convinced the batfam that he has an uncle to care for him, is also dealing with all the juicy unreliable narrator tropes these orphan boys seem to acquire like pokémon cards—he doesn’t think he’s part of the family, he can’t be useful anymore, he’s stepping back to give jason and damian space)

(and let’s say, bruce is also missing because, it’s my story, so dick hasn’t been able to look into the uncle thing because he’s dealing with becoming a dad to an angsty 12 year-old assassin kid who is threatening to run back to Ra’s but is also clearly in need of love)

(and let’s also say, jason is trying hard but isn’t talking to dick right now because he thinks tim shouldn’t have been allowed to fight the rogues in the first place, so he’s unreachable for the moment)

but now tim is staring at this boy who has popped up in his old skatepark and has to give first aid but can’t because of his own difficulties

so he calls jason who answers because it’s tim and tim was really hurt, and tim freaks out and jason comes and they call an ambulance for the boy

peter is unconscious but opens his eyes when the ambulance gets to the park. tim is talking softly to him and peter reaches out because tim reminds him of ned.

peter’s sticky powers mean tim has to come to the hospital with him because when peter fainted again, he was still attached to tim’s hand

“who is the boy?” “how did he get so hurt?” ask the hospital, cps, gcpd. so they take fingerprints and blood and dna and low and behold, a match.

because it’s my story

and i’m a genie

granting wishes to myself

and i’m a glutton

and i will die choking on my own sweet, sugary fluff

dick grayson is the father. (because richard parker is richard grayson is my kryptonite) jason realizes his brother will need some major help, so they reunite over this news.

tim sticks around once peter wakes and they all realize peter has amnesia.

“oh, my uncle won’t mind me staying here for a bit. he’s on a business trip.”

(later on in this huge behemoth of a head canon, tim and peter solve the mystery of bruce being lost in time. i’d love to see a red robin au where peter and tim are working together and dick is trying to keep his alternate universe son from spider-manning in front of ra’s.)

lots of angst potential when peter’s memory returns.

potential running away

potential misunderstandings?

alfred is not uncle ben, peter knows this, but sometimes, peter hangs out in the kitchen because alfred will say the same things uncle ben said, just in a better accent

jason and peter bond instantly. damian and peter bond instantly. how does tim handle a kid his age, going through some of the same health, physical challenges, who just seems to have a much easier time getting along with his brothers?

delicious.

[drdemonprince]

Hi Devon,

this might not be a question you can answer, or maybe it is! idk. this is about covid & alike

for context on myself, i’m a white gendrfucky trans guy who’s also autistic & an immigrant (so some cultural context is probably lacking)

as we know, we’re in a 2nd highest surge & the pandemic never stopped and it increasingly dangerous and disabling to so many

i wear my kn95 everywhere i go now, and while i tried last semester, it was a lot easier to abandon masking because of

1. others’ around me negligence

2. some classrooms being IMPOSSIBLY hot and close to unbearable with a respirator on

3. attending crowded events where people needed to hear me

i’ve reevaluated and am rebuilding my practices now, but what i’m finding really difficult is to get people i have in my life to wear a mask again

i feel so lost. i share the informational posts, i talk to my people, i offer masks- what else is there to do?? i know the exhaustion i feel is absolutely incomparable to what disabled and immunocompromised people feel, especially when they’ve done the work for years!

i just don’t understand how i’m supposed to keep moving through life. i mean ofc i’ll keep doing what i’m already doing but it’s so incredibly isolating to be the only person masked in a meeting of 20,30,50 people.

i don’t know how to make people care. i don’t know how to have conversations with my friends in a way that will let our relationship evolve with this new understanding of care. i don’t know how to not polarize people into defensiveness when i talk about the powers wreaking atrocities in falasteen being the same ones shortening an isolation period to 1 day.

i don’t know how to be eloquent enough to be listened to and firm enough where people take what i say seriously. i don’t know how to not start screaming WEAR A MASK anytime it’s a crowded (or even not crowded) meeting indoors with no air filtration.

idk how people don’t realize the “cold” they’ve had for 3 weeks is either covid or direct aftermath of it. idk how they stand for seemingly the right things and then come to work sick & unmasked.

i don’t know how to engage with most people in a meaningful way & find connections because the delusion, the “it won’t happen to me”, the “i don’t care if i catch it and die”, the “this is just the way it is” seems to be a wall made of unbreakable cement and i don’t know what will melt it.

i feel insane for having compassion towards the world and seeing how it can be better. i feel insane for being angry people don’t mask & downplay this issue. i feel insane for even trying to talk sense into people.

i’ve recently been called a lying phony by an account that talks about masking bc a lot of my recent pictures show my face without a mask. i archived the posts since, apologized and reflected. but a lot of pictures i take are in my own room so i am unmasked. idk

i feel like the gap between me and most people i know is growing wider by the minute and with every reading i do about interdependent revolutionary practices, etc.

i know that when one understands something, it is their responsibility to make an impact on their bubble of the world and transform it with their knowledge. but i doubt i’m the only one doing the reading and knowing what’s going on, i just seem to be the only one masking.

i don’t know. i’m sorry it’s such a long ask & i’m sure you have your own stuff you’re dealing with. i just don’t know who else to ask that might understand. i’m sure there are people around me who might but so many are in survival mode and i currently don’t know anyone with the capacity to hold space for this.

i guess it’s bold to assume you do.

anyway, i hope your day goes alright today<3

You are placing wayyy too much responsibility upon yourself as one compassionate and informed individual here, and expecting far too much perfection of yourself in ways that do not help you and do not help the cause. You've done a lot to unpack the terrible individualism that has led to anti-mask sentiment being so rampant, but you are in a way still applying that logic to yourself and your situation by imagining that if you, one humble person with limited power were able to be adequately persuasive, you'd somehow change the actions of thousands. That is not how behavior change works.

Persuasion almost never happens logically or instantly, almost never through one person's remarks. Behavior is shaped by a vast array of economic, sociological, emotional, and ideological factors.

It's also not helpful in my opinion to worry about the opinion of someone who would shame you for not wearing a mask at home alone in your bedroom, either. Obsessing over the optics of our actions and wanting all people to morally approve of us at all times is yet another consequence of individualism and Puritanism. as you well know as someone who masks in a crowd of maskless people, sometimes we gotta do what we know is right and disregard others' opinions.

What you can do, in my opinion, is this: keep masking. Your behavior reminds people of the need for masks and models socially responsible behavior. Bring spare masks with you. Offer them to your family and friends and the people standing near you in public. If they refuse, and you have a good relationship with the person where they have shown they respect you and listen to you, then you can tell them why masking around you is important to you. You cannot change the opinion of someone who has never shown you any respect so don't expect that to ever work.

Even if you do have a good relationship with someone, persuasion is a long, hard process. Do not expect yourself to change their mind. If you can get some people to mask at least around you, that is a victory. Perfection is an unrealistic goal here to expect of yourself, and for public health in general. Any improvement you can inspire is a victory. Even if it's just making one or two friends mask more often when they are with you. That still lessens risk. That still sends a visible signal to everyone around you. You have no idea of the impact you truly have on other people in the long term. It is both more modest and far larger and longer-reaching than you as an individual will ever know.

Please be easy on yourself. You are just a person. An average person with very limited power. So is everyone else for the most part. When you stop burdening yourself with the unrealistic responsibility of changing thousands of people's behavior, you will feel less resentful toward others as well. When we resent other people it always means we are doing too much.

And when you feel less overwhelmed and overburdened, you will be more effective in the conversations you do have with people about COVID too. People do not respond well to (what they perceive to be) guilt or intensity or someone presuming to know better than them. What people do respond to well is to be asked genuine questions, listened to, validated in their feelings, given help where they are facing barriers to action, and being treated with compassionate gentleness.

But to do that you have to work on believing that people who are flawed in their response to COVID have reasons for doing so that make sense to them, and that they aren't all foolish and lacking in compassion. As my friend @kim-from-kansas says, people do not do things that do not make sense. If a person's actions do not make sense to you, it is because you are missing a piece of their context. The sad fact is people have many reasons to think that masking doesn't work or is hopeless. People have been very heavily propagandized and trauma also makes many people value life less.

Convincing people to take COVID more seriously is a tall, tall order, but if you wish to do so, you will need to be more than correct. You will have to put real work into not making people feel judged, and you will have to make peace with not always (or even usually) succeeding. It sucks but that's how it is. Best of luck!!

[reilikeslifting]

This is the person who just did their first lift, I totally forgot to ask but, do you have any tips for new lifters ^^

of course! and congrats!!!

new l!fting tip #1: tumblr 101

no tags!!! do not tag ur posts, it makes it easier for non-l!fters to find and report l!fters

censor out brands and l!fting terms!! such as dn@, 3B, etc. (dn@ is did not arrive and 3B is empty box!!! different l!fting methods)

never ever put any defining objects in your photos if you are gonna post! make sure its the haul and ONLY the haul.

remove exif data from your photos so they can’t be traced, personally i dont do think bc im lazy but you should!

don’t put your total in your bio! i used to do this bc i liked to tell ppl i saved $20k-$30k over the year but it’s not smart to flaunt that you’re over the felony limit!

next, #2: how to lyft

so you’ve already completed your first lyft (woohoo proud of u!!) but how can you go about being safer and smarter?

my first tip is always scan the school for cameras! be sneaky tho don’t like just stare at the ceiling, but yk get a feel for how many cameras, what type, and what direction they’re facing. most places are gonna have the dome cameras, those are the worst because they see in every direction. always always try to body block if possible. either get someone else to block you or duck behind something while you’re concealing. better to not be caught on cam!!

nobody in that store is your friend, remember that. always assume that customers are plain clothes LP (disguised security) and always assume that sales associates WILL rat you out. don’t think “oh well it’s just me and one other person in the aisle it’ll be fine” because it’s gonna be the one time it’s not fine.

on that note, be kind to everyone. this isn’t just a lyfting tip it’s a rule i live by but just be kind. they’re gonna suspect you much less if you smile and answer questions and compliment them if you feel so inclined, just be a nice person. i believe this is one of the reasons i’ve never been caught, i’m just very friendly.

concealing!!! where to conceal? i personally like using my bag most often. your bag is important too!!! i use one off amazon (you can type like kawaii heart school bag and it’ll pop up, its black and has a big heart cut out for pins) but i dont have any pins because i dont want it to be too identifiable. its purse enough for people not to tell me to take it off (a lot of places don’t allow backpacks) but big enough to fit a LOT of stuff. structured bags are always a good idea too! that way people won’t be able to tell if you’ve put anything in there. i like to conceal in aisles without cameras most often, but if i have to body block sometimes i’ll put stuff up my sleeves first! another idea is to use a shopping bag from another store. this way people will think you’ve just already bought stuff! the target ones are my favorite since they’re opaque<3

onto the next section, #3: all about tags

de-tagging is definitely a more experienced lyfting practice but you can definitely start with rfids!!

rfids are gonna be the little metal wires in plastic, paper, or sticker tags. these are very common and you’ll see them at places like w4lmart or t4rget. these are easily removable by either cutting them off or disabling them with a magnet. you don’t NEED any tools while lyfting, but some of them can come in handy. if you do find yourself with a magnet, to disable rfids you just need to swipe your magnet against the tag. if you don’t have one, simply cut the metal wire in half. you can use scissors or nail clippers or cuticle nippers or whatever you might have!! if you can’t cut them, simply remove them and i personally stick the tag in the pocket of a really ugly item on clearance so that it hopefully goes unfound for a while!

hard tags! hard tags are any tag from the solid tags you find usually on clothes to spider tags you find on electronics or wire tags on jewelry at hot topic, etc. these all require tools to remove. some will require a magnet, others will require hooks, but it’s definitely worth looking into if you decide to branch out on your journey.

brief mention, #3.5: booster bags!

booster bags are small bags lined with many layers of foil to prevent signals from reaching the towers. just in case you didn’t know, towers are the tall sensors by the front door when you walk in! with a booster bag, you can put any kind of tagged item you want, zip it up, and walk out without beeping. you need many layers however!! the way to test if your bag works it by putting your cell phone in there and asking someone to call you. if the call goes through, there aren’t enough layers!! once the call doesn’t go through you’re set! this however is a more advanced trick so please be careful if you’re gonna try this!

lastly, #4 online “shopping”!

so you’ve heard of dn4ing or empty boxes, well lemme tell you what it all means! did not arrive is when you purchase an item, wait for it to arrive, and then message the carrier and tell them it never arrived. typically our goal here is to get a refund, but any times they wont be as easily persuaded and you’ll end up with a replacement instead. however it’s not impossible and many places are easier others. if you think you wanna try this, she!n or am4zon are a good place to start!! if she!n opens an investigation, it’s just a bluff, go with it!

empty box is another form of online lyfting, it’s when you tell the carrier that your item arrived with nothing in it. the process is similar to the first one, message the carrier etc. however just claim that it’s an empty box!

I HOPE ALL THESE TIPS HELPED PLS LET ME KNOW<333 LOVE YOU GUYS STAY HEALTHY AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES

[mrs-snape5984]

„I hope, I’ll always have you in my mind, so that I know to find you every time.“

„Put your head on my chest, that’s your safe place. We‘ll fall deeper in love every day. From life unto life and for always.“ („Soul Mate“ by Flora Cash)

There’s something in my current life, that came hand in hand with my disease ME/CFS…slowly creeping into my fibres…infecting my mind with sadness. It’s loneliness, that I’m talking about. Overwhelming, crushing, suffocating loneliness.

Before this cruel bitch of a disease put a stopper in my life, as I knew it from before, I haven’t been healthy, either. But neither my severe Colitis Ulcerosa, nor the other few sicknesses and disabilities had achieved to break me the way, ME/CFS broke me!

What’s left, is only a shell of myself…a sad shadow of the woman, I’ve been prior to today. Where did the intelligent, sassy, witty and caring person go to, when she disappeared so insidiously from my personality? On some days, I still get a little glimpse of her, when I’m talking to my beloved friends @vulnus-sanare, @preciousthelmadonna or my bestie Miri, who often just “enjoys” sitting beside me in my dark room…embraced by silence and darkness. These tiny jiffies, when I’m recognising my previous character…my true nature, even though it’s only for a brief time, I’m feeling a little less anxious…a little less worthless.

But sadly, these moments become more rare with each new PEM crash of my disease (PEM = Post-exertional malaise = worsening of symptoms after certain activities). It feels as if I’m fading away from life…I’m fading away from other people’s lives as well as from my own.

Since I can’t leave my dark room - and most of the time even my bed - I’m not capable of joining social gatherings anymore. It’s impossible for me to endure listening to more than one person at once, so even my three kids have to “visit” me one after the other in my chamber. There are days, when I can’t even reply to messages from others, just because screen time is killing me.

All the more, I’m grateful for these few friends, who stay with me, no matter how silent I am, because they make me feel worthier and loved. And yet, I’m afraid of not being able to give them the same amount of support in return…due to the restrictions of my cruel reality, which are confining me.

So, there are many days, which I’m spending in total gloominess and silence with nothing but solitude surrounding me. And even if I’d be capable of sending text or audio messages (since I can’t type them out properly sometimes), I often hold myself back from reaching out to these understanding friends…only because I don’t want to be a burden to them.

I commissioned the lovely artist @hannisimp for this beautiful piece of art. Lin, you gave me exactly, what I needed with this tender artwork of yours. You gave me the feeling of being less alone. Severus accompanies me for 21 years now. He’s the safe haven, the comfort blanket, which I’m clinging to so desperately! My dear, I can’t stress enough, how grateful I am for your fine art. You made the love and the trust between Severus and my - oh, so self-inserted - OC Jules become palpable. There are no words to express my gratitude, so I just stay with these: Thank you for everything, my friend! Thank you for your talent, your kindness and each of your messages. I won’t ever take these things for granted.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[the-whumpening]

Intro Post (v2, Bigger and Better!)

About Me

I’m Ruben, but you can also call me Ruby or any variation of those. I’m a 28 year old bi/pan transmasc guy from the US. I’m also disabled (chronic pain, autism, other stuff) so I have both plenty of time to be online and plenty of barriers to keeping a regular schedule, so your patience is appreciated.

Askbox is open and anon is on! Feel free to send in prompts, asks, and general conversation!

My Ao3 account

Schedule

Currently taking it a little slow. I plan to have one new upload every week, mostly of The Pet Tiger. Aiming for Tuesdays, but no promises.

I may keep my queue running with old stuff for a bit.

I expect this schedule to continue until at least mid-July after I move and get settled in my new place.

Feel free to send asks still, I'll get to them when I'm able!

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Writing Masterposts

Tigerverse (fantasy/dnd universe whump, multiple arcs/AUs)

Son of Bat (modern setting, bandmates, injury/sickfic)

Weekly Themed Posts [On Hiatus]

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Things you’ll likely find here:

General whump and hurt/comfort

Violence/gore/blood

Non/dubcon and intimate whump

Recovery/injury whump and sickfics

Emotional whump

Occasional emeto triggers

Some pet whump

Male whumpees, whumpers, and caretakers

LGBTQ+ and disabled characters

Not currently here but maybe in the future:

More pet whump/BBU

Carewhumpers

Vampire and/or werewolf fics

More NSFWhump

Lady whumper

Royal setting

Robot whump

Non-whump fics (angst, fluff, smut, etc)

Big maybe: fanworks, probably Fallout or DC Comics

You likely won’t see:

Lady whump (no hate, it’s just not my thing)

Military settings and political intrigue

Fanfic (I greatly prefer writing for OCs, but I could be persuaded)

Minor characters, outside of flashbacks (no judgment, just not my thing)

Religious whump

Superhero/Villian/Team whump (don’t mind reading it, just not interested in writing it)

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Some whump blogs I'm loving rn (off the top of my head, I'm sure there's more I'm forgetting!):

@kabie-whump @echo-goes-mmm @secretwhumplair @whumpzone @whumpcereal

@sowhumpshaped @whumpurr @doomeddestination

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My Tags:

#rublewriting (All my writing and masterposts, does not include weekly posts)

#not whump (Any post that's not writing, like memes or personal posts)

#rublogging (reblogs of others' posts)

#self rb (self explanatory)

#ruby replies (replying to asks)

#Tigerverse (any of the fics set in that universe, each has their own tag as well)

#Son of Bat (any of the fics set in that universe, each series has its own tag as well)

#Meet the Characters Monday

#Worldbuilding Wednesday

#Fuck It Friday