#done for my own archive purposes

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whumptober 2023 Masterlist

Swooning | 'How many fingers am I holding up?'

"I'll call out your name, but you won't call back." | "They don't care about you."

"Make it stop." | Journal

"I see the danger, It's written there in your eyes." | Cattle Prod

Debris | "It's Broken"

"It should have been me." | Made to watch

Alleyway

"I've got soul, but I'm not a solider." | Overcrowded ER

Mistaken Identity

"You said you'd never leave."

Red

Cold Compress

"Just hold on."

"I don't need your help."

"I'm fine."

Gurney

"Leave me alone."

"Hit them harder."

Floral Bouquet

"People don't change people, time does."

Restraints

Vehicular Accident

"Who's there?"

Neglect

"You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave" / Buried Alive / "They're not breathing." / Storm

Seeing Double

Scars

Bloody Knife

Scented Candle

"It's okay, just to say, I'm not okay."

"I thought I was getting better."

[majorshatterandhare]

Thinking to myself “man it’s a good thing there nine mechanisms to project my disabilities onto, wouldn’t want people to think I’m headcanoning them to have an unrealistic amount of issues.” When it’s like, I have all these issues! And some people have way more comorbidities than me!

[kurokeip]

Ouuhhhvbhgh the anxiety of having people perceive me as krk mod... the way I Know people are talking about me and making assumptions about me... the way nobody will believe me even if I post an apology for the Fourth time. But I'll just end up doing it anyways because I Have to

[rufusx2]

dear anon (though i do know who you are, so i'm writing this with you in mind):

this is true, nothing you have said is something i would necessarily disagree with. the post is satirical and the longer work is about my own flawed thinking (though i will likely not post it in it's entirety until it is done, all of my meowing is just for snippets, though i understand that it can come across as strange or concerning if you are unaware of this as i have not posted my blog organization anywhere. in fact, the on;y posts of mine UNRELATED to my main bodies of work, my songwriting, are the photo posts organized under "#blinks").

this is the purpose of using language like "flawed in the right way"- i know my own lines of thinking are most definitely caused by societal problems, and they are not productive nor based in logic. even my blog header ("you delicate, precious, dying thing!") is supposed to bring to mind the "ideal" female body as being delicate and starved (which is a bad thing for people with a brain... but not for the narrator!). being born "right" (or "rightwrong" as i tend to refer to it, which is just a heavyhanded way of pointing out that calling yourself "born right" is flawed thinking) is not an actual thing, though i cannot help but loop back into this logic of "if only i had been born as somebody else" forgetting, of course, that i will only ever be myself. i focus on my own female form (and wishing to have been born differently) as a manifestation of poor body image (weight related) and self hatred (in terms of personality). if i had the power to be born differently, a "better" person, my brain (or i guess *I* would, i use "my brain" as a way of distancing myself from my own bad thoughts which is probably not helping the problem) would make this person male- the point is that not only is the premise impossible, but being a "better" person is impossible if you completely change yourself, and using this line of logic we can see that the CONCLUSIONS myself, or rather, the narrator of the piece of writing, (if i'm to be neutral and detached and pretend that it's NOT me saying all this), are also incorrect, and impossible regardless which makes dwelling upon them pointless in the first place. it's a futile line of thinking, and every word is clouded through a thick layer of rosy haze. i would even be inclined to at some points call it christocentric... this is why i used "wwjd" in a sarcastic way in some of my posts (that may or may not be publicly visible yet due to my queue system). take that how you will.

calling the female form flawed was not a way of thinking that the reader/listener is supposed to agree with (though again, it is a disembodied snippet, so of course you wouldn't know this upon reading so i don't blame you for not picking up on it. i am fine! i know there is nothing wrong with my body. and yet... i feel my own mind needling at me). i wouldn't exactly say that my writings are explicitly feminist, because that implies a conscious agenda and explicit political messaging when really it's all just personal anecdotes, but since i would describe myself as being a feminist i think the undertones bleed through. or at least, i hope they will when i do eventually release more.

i know i can never have what i want, and i know that what i want is NOT rational, or good, and is entirely based in heteropatriarchal ideas, but i can't help myself and i need to confront that desire frankly in order to identify it. you can't exactly get a good look at yourself if you close your eyes when you approach the mirror, and this is how i feel about ignoring these thoughts. i cannot pretend that i do not feel this way, and i dont really think it services anyone to pretend i always feel positively about my body. wallowing in them isn't always helpful for the wallow-er, but it perhaps CAN be for a witness who doesn't realize that they are not alone in their way of existing. there are many ways to be, in this body, and others like it, and while negativity is a symptom of a larger problem i have to be honest about it.

[milksockets]

why scan?

scanning is something i've done for probably about 12 years now (i'm ancient, for this site), with varying degrees of regularity, intensity, etc. it has ratcheted up since the dawn of 2023, though, which begs the question: why? why put so much time into what could not-wrongly be considered a passive activity, hunched over a piece of clunky machinery with the express purpose of preserving others' creations? the answers are several, and fascinating (not really).

i am a [sober] drug addict. anything i pursue, consume, create--more often than not--ends up taking on addictive qualities. i'll eat the same specific food item for a month, then never want to see, let alone taste it, again. i'll listen to one song on repeat for days until i'd rather hear nails on a chalkboard than have it shuffle on and assault my ears. one of the reasons that my scanning has increased in volume recently is that i acquired library cards to the 3 nyc library systems: nypl, brooklyn, and queens. as soon as i was able to, i pillaged + plundered those fine centers of learning, leaving any given library with as many hefty scan-worthy books as i could [barely] carry. here, finally, was a *free* way of obtaining more + more + more visual media to consume.

2023 saw me get my first legal, full-time job. as such, my adjusting to that hellish reality resulted in a steep decline in my own personal creative output. collaging, writing, and rapping all fell to the wayside as i slowly acclimated to a life of work that almost everyone else my age has known for over a decade is generally unbearable + detrimental to the maintenance of outside pursuits. in times of famine within my own artistic harvest, scanning, archiving, and sharing others' work is a means of feeling as though i am still contributing to the global oeuvre.

there’s an element of losing my mental self in a series of physical motions that becomes almost automatic after some time. “zoning out” is not something endemic to my daily life; if anything, i’m almost always too zoned in. relief is necessary.  especially considering the shitshow this past year has been in terms of my personal life.

i am a product of capitalism’s cultivating a craving for constant consumption. 

it seems that visual content is only going to continue to get more + more uninspired. has everything been done? did social media ruin it all? in any case, i feel a need to document the past. to a degree, it’s my version of doomsday prepping. (god forbid books go extinct altogether.) 

i have always gravitated towards solitary activities. this topic could be a thesis in its own right.

i thrive on external validation. this reliance is something i’ve improved upon over the past several years, but it hasn’t been altogether extinguished. even though the materials i scan are not of my own creation, i nevertheless feel a vague pride in showcasing them. occasional appreciation thereof satisfies this fixation on others’ attention, albeit in a diluted form. 

i am fortunate to live in a city bursting to the gills with cultural institutions. i am also lucky enough to have some disposable income that can be directed toward fulfilling my ravenous desire for visual media. 

((i keep getting messages about the specifics of my scanner + "process":

i have a cheap ass hp envy 6055e and i just use the software it comes with.

there's nothing special or fancy happening here, and i could definitely invest in a better and/or a large format scanner, etc. but i really just don't care enough and it's not like i'm getting paid for this lmao))

[tropes-and-tales]

Not Real Just Yet

Day 14:  Breeding Kink (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Breeding kink; the appearance of dub-con but with clear consent discussed; smut (PiV, unprotected); 18+ only. Again, this is a breeding KINK with an element of dub-con (but consensual), so if that isn't your thing, pass on this one.

Word Count:  1513

AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person! It was also not edited in any way!

It’s not real. 

It’s not real just yet because Bob is active duty, often deployed for long stretches.

It’s not real just yet because you’re in a PhD program that requires long, long hours:  as you TA for undergrad classes, as you pore over old archived papers buried in colleges across the U.S., as you spend late nights on your thesis.

It’s not real just yet because you and Bob are sometimes just ships passing in the night, and you both hate it, but you’re both committed to each other and see this current pain as paying off in the near future.

It’s not real just yet because Bob, modern though he is, has old-fashioned ideas.  He wants to put a ring on your finger first, wants to carry you over the threshold of a shared home, wants to settle into a nice stretch of married life as a couple before adding to your family.

It’s not real just yet.  It’s just a fun way of playing around in the bedroom, and it’s more about the power dynamics of the breeding kink.  You have an implant, so the risk is minimal, but it’s still fun to pretend.

Bob, the back seater who often feels powerless:  he gets to take the dominant role. 

You, the harried student who often feels like there’s too much piled on your shoulders:  you get to take the submissive role.

-----

It’s not real just yet, but it sure as hell feels real.  Bob is finally home from a tour around the South Pacific, and you’ve finally turned in pages to your thesis advisor.  You each have the luxury of time, for once, and you turn your respective life frustrations on each other in the best possible way.

It’s easy to forget it’s not real when Bob slides inside you, the wet silky heat of your pussy and not a single barrier to stop him from feeling every sensation.  The delicious slickness of your arousal, the molten warmth, the way you bear down when he’s buried in you and whispers in your ear.  He whispers the filthiest things he’s ever said in bed with anyone, and sometimes he’s embarrassed in the morning when he remembers it, but the embarrassment never lingers—because he loves you, because he feels safe to explore this side of himself with you.

I’m gonna breed you, sweetheart.

Just take it.  Good girl, take it.

Gonna look so good, full of my baby.

Gonna make you a mommy. 

Take all of it.

Taking me so good.  Can’t wait to see your belly all round with our baby.

Just lie back and take it like a good girl.

He fucks you slowly, deep, purposeful thrusts that he punctuates with his dirty talk.  He knows it’s not real, but it’s so easy to fall into the fantasy, especially when you whimper at his words, when you cling to his shoulders and whine out your answering script.

Wait, Bobby…wait…

Maybe we shouldn’t…

It’s all a game, of course.  It toes the line of dubious consent but Bob knows it’s all consensual because you never utter the safe word and neither does he.  And sometimes he thinks maybe it’s sick, maybe it’s twisted, and maybe no one else would understand it, but when he voices those concerns to you, you always allay them.  You always cup his face and tell him that what the two of you do in the privacy of your bedroom is your business and no one else’s.

“Besides,” you told him once.  “You have no idea what your pals in Top Gun are into when it comes to kinks.  I bet Bagman is a foot fetish weirdo.”

So he pushes those doubts aside because fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing he’s done, exploring all the weird and surprising twists within his own sexuality and yours.

Your first orgasm is always the strongest—maybe because you pretend to fight it, pretend you don’t want this.  Bob notices all of your little tells:  the way your fingertips dig into the blades of his shoulders until he knows he’ll have dusty little bruises there in the morning.  The way your arousal absolutely soaks his pistoning cock, soaks the thatch of rough curls at the base of him.  The way you whine out no, please, as if your body is betraying you, and isn’t that part of the fantasy too:  that he fucks you so well that you can’t fight off the orgasm he works from you?

“Good girl,” he whispers against your temple.  “Good girl, coming for me.”  He slows his thrusting, savors the spasms of your aftershocks, allows you to recover. 

“Please Bobby,” you breathe out.  “It’s too risky—”

He closes his eyes and kisses your temple, feels the sweat making your hair damp.  “You think too much,” he murmurs.  He shifts his head, nips at your earlobe before he whispers in your ear, “just take it like a good girl.”

“Bobby—”

“You’re going to look so fucking hot, swollen with my baby.”  He says that staring into your eyes, which are wide in mock-fear, part of the game, but he can see how wide your pupils are too, your eyes damned near black, and it’s a reassuring reminder that yes, you are into this game too, you’re enjoying it as much as him.  And sure enough, there’s the answering clench in your pussy, the way you unconsciously bear down on him as he starts to resume his slow, firm rhythm of fucking you.

And now that you’ve come once, he takes it up a notch, ratchets the moment higher.  He gets an arm under your knee and hoists your leg up and out, spreads you out more for him to bury himself in you.  It grants him that extra bit of depth into your pussy, and each time he hilts his cock in you, it draws out a low groan from you, a throaty growl that makes the coil of tension in his gut tighten.

Here is usually where the game falters just a bit.  Bob’s never had this with any other girlfriend before; sex was always a fraught, anxious thing for him.  He always worried about his performance in bed.  Most of his girlfriends before you usually laid in bed like a starfish, limp and unresponsive, and it took Bob a long time to realize that it was them, not him, that was the problem.

But sex with you is always good.  Sometimes fun and playful, sometimes intimate and soulful.  Sometimes, like now, it’s both of you working through your own personal demons—him and his feelings of inadequacy, you and your feelings of overwhelm—but doing it together.  Exploring shadowy sides of yourselves in a perfectly safe, perfectly loving way.

How could he not want to put that ring on your finger, carry you over that threshold?  Bob could travel the world for the rest of his life and never find anyone half as suited to him as you.

And now, your second orgasm approaches.  Now your hands shift from clutching at his shoulders.  Your palms lay flat on his chest and you push lightly against him, the climax of your game timed to the climax you’ll share with him.

“Bobby, please,” you pant out.  “It’s not s-safe.  Pull…pull out—”

But he doesn’t because it’s part of the game, and a beat later, when you arch underneath him, when your eyes flutter shut and you wail out his name, he pushes into you and stills.  He feels his own tension snap, and he comes with a pained fuck, baby, take it, and it’s absolutely perfect:  the way your pussy ripples against his cock, how it pulls the thick ropes of his cum deeper into the confines of your body.

Here is where the game falls apart.  Or, rather, it ends.  Sex is a release for both of you, but since you are generally more stressed and wound-up than Bob, you have the habit of giggling directly afterwards.  Which might make a lesser man wither, but the tic charms Bob, and now he chuckles along with you.

“Oof,” you breathe out once the laughing passes.  You wrap an arm around his neck and pull him down to you.  “That was great.”

Bob is still half hard, so he shifts his weight carefully to avoid slipping out of you.  He leans his weight on one forearm and gazes down at you with a smile.  He brushes gentle kisses across your warm face.  “I missed you.”

You smile up at him.  “I missed you too.  I’m glad you’re home.”

Home.  Right now, it’s just a crummy little apartment near campus, but as Bob settles closer to you, he can already picture the future with you:  a better apartment or maybe even a house somewhere.  You with your PhD, him with his military career.  Each of you with rings on your fingers, vows made and received, maybe a dog adopted from a shelter.

And maybe, after that, you can play at your mutual kink for real.

[actual-changeling]

A small 'this is how you use tumblr' for the people that haven't been here very long. These are in no particular order, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask them!

Since I probably did not mention a lot of things, you are welcome to add to this post with your own advice.

a) Reblog posts. if you like it, reblog it. even if you have zero followers and ESPECIALLY if it's art or writing of any kind. We will see the reblog in our notifications and that alone brings joy. One reblog can start a chain and push the post onto many people's dashes.

b) Tumblr is not a very functional website, if you want to survive without losing your mind, there are two things you need: xkit rewritten and dashboard unfucker. Play around with the settings until it is to your liking. Additionally, change to firefox if you haven't already and install ublock origin to get rid of ads, tracking etc.

c) If you go to your settings (account! not blog) you can find this under dashboard at the bottom. Turn off at the very least 'best stuff first' since that will fuck up your dash and not give you posts in chronological order.

The rest are a perfonal preference but it will keep your dash tidy and easy to control if you turn them off, too.

d) Apropos settings—get a profile picture, a header, write something human in your bio, anything. Otherwise people will assume you are a bot and block you on sight.

e) Blocking! Do it generously and whenever you want, this is how you keep whatever remains of your sanity. It's not a lethal offense, it is (usually) not even seen as rude or anything along those lines. You block people and they block you and everyone is happy.

f) Under account settings you will find this:

Just like with blocking, use both options to your heart's content.

g) Tumblr is not like other social media platforms, spam liking & reblogging and going three years deep into someone's account is NORMAL and encouraged. You can search a blog by post type, tags, or even go to the archive and scroll through the posts there.

h) Lastly—interaction. We already went over reblogging (I mean it, REBLOG), but there are also replies and asks. If you add something to someone else's post please behave like a kind human being and don't be an asshole; based on my experience, that's easier said than done. On top of that, the tags are ALSO used for communication, go unhinged, ramble, leave your thoughts, or simply use them for organisational purposes. Everyone loves a good insane tag wall.

An open inbox (either anonymously or with your blog attached) is to be used! Please send people asks if they have them active, use it like DMs or a comment section, use it to recommend something, ask questions, participate in an ask or prompt game—we love asks here.

(We do not like harassment in our inboxes, same rules as above.)

[realmermaid333]

A Guide to Using the "Inspired By" Function on AO3

The "inspired by" function allows writers to display fanfics that inspired their own fanfic neatly in the "notes" section via a link. It is used to credit inspiration, for archival purposes, and also for translations, remixes, and podfics.

It is a very fun function because it encourages community, and even gives your readers something else to read while they wait for your own fic to update. It can help people who really like a certain trope or writing idea easily find another fic just like it. And, if you use the function, the writer you are inspired by can choose to link it back to their own fic. So, at the end of their fic it will say, "works inspired by this one," and list yours.

"How can I tell if I should use the "inspired by" function or not?"

You should use the inspired by function if you are directly inspired by another fic. I have done this twice, and it is splendid. One of my besties and I have fics that are attached by this function. It's like they're holding hands via "inspired by" links :' )

If you read a fic, and at the end you're like, "Wow, this was totally radical, and now my gears are turning with an idea just like this one, but I'm gonna add my own spin to it." That would be a moment that calls for the "inspired by" function.

A situation that doesn't call for the inspired by function is two fics that are similar in trope, but the second one was not inspired by the first. For example; let's say person A writes a coffee shop AU fic, which is a very common trope, and person B also writes one, but without having ever read person A's fic, or without directly getting the idea directly from person A. Person B was not inspired by person A.

Let's say person B did read the fic, then also eventually decided to write a coffee shop AU that was completely different, and had very little in common with A's fic. That would not be a moment where the "inspired by" function would be necessary. B could use their own judgement to gauge how inspired they were by A's fic.

But, let's say person B really, really loved person A's fic, and wanted to show everyone another coffee shop AU. Person B very well could still use the "inspired by" function just to have the link. Or, they could just link the fic in their "Notes" section, but i personally think the inspired by function is a little easier than creating a "notes" link on ao3 LOL.

However, I have seen some people just list a fic they are inspired by in the notes section without any issues, but I encourage people to use the inspired by function. If you're unsure, maybe ask the author that you're inspired by if they care. If you ever don't use the "inspired by" function, and step on another writer's toes, just simply talk it out and credit.

"But, Mermaid, if I use the "inspired by" function, won't it look like my fic belongs to the original person?"

No?? I am including this because I've seen a surprising amount of people say this and it bugs me. If you use the "inspired by" function, it links the fic you were inspired by in the "notes" section in first chapter. That's it. It doesn't say, "this fic belongs to this other writer," lol. It says, "Inspired by (insert fic) by (insert author)," one single time. After that, it will not be listed in future chapters. Your name will always be on it, and it will only be listed on your account like usual.

To conclude, you should use the "inspired by" function if you are directly inspired by another person's fic. if you're not, then don't use it. Easy peasy. I encourage its use because it's very fun, it is part of fandom etiquette to use it when needed, it allows people to recommend fics similar to theirs, credit another person's idea they used, etc.

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 3

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: none for this one, I think

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Unedited for now! Holy moly, sorry for taking so long on this one. I was kinda drowning in uni work the past week. The next chapter should come sooner, I hope. Also just wanted to say thank you so much to those who take the time to comment!! I really really appreciate the kind words. You guys are super sweet. Mwa mwa.

The inky black fireworks exploded in the distance as you were led back into the underground chambers of the arena. Your eyes are relieved to escape the infrared sun. Heavy doors open for you once more. The na-Baron stands, chest exposed, skin slick with sweat under the artificial light. His blown-out eyes hone in on you as you enter. He makes his way to you holding the blood-stained handkerchief.

"Did you enjoy the show, my lady?" His chest heaves and you feel his heavy breaths as he leans into your ear, voice even more raspy, "Aren't you something, little hawk."

He holds the cloth up as if giving it to you but when you reach for the handkerchief he snatches it away.

You sigh and lift your veil, a sweet smile plastered on your face, "A most impressive demonstration, na-Baron. You are as formidable as they say."

Feyd-Rautha takes a moment to scan your face. He doesn't know what your game is but he wants to play.

His breathing has settled. He raises a hand to reach for your cheek but you move past him. You walk towards a table displaying knives laid over a cloth. You pick one up to examine. The blades remain uncleaned, the blood from earlier in the day already beginning to dry. You sense they will be kept that way.

"You have good form. Clean, precise," you say, holding the dagger in a reverse grip, edge out. "You enjoy it, don't you?"

From behind, you feel Feyd-Rautha close the distance between you once again.

"Perhaps you enjoy it a little too much," you turn to him, "I'm sure you let him disarm you on purpose. For the show."

Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and allows himself a small smile. "You should return to the fortress, my lady. I have duties to attend to," he touches your armed hand and gently takes the knife from you, "and my uncle would like to see you."

Despite being shielded from the black sun, you elect to keep your veil for your lunch with the Baron. You excuse the chill running down your spine as the coldness of the high, stony walls of Fortress Harko as Iassa escorts you to the dining hall. Iassa kept her head bowed, you noticed, hands folded in front of her. She didn't need to look ahead to know the way.

When you arrive, large doors open to the sight of the Baron floating at the head of the table. There was only one other seat at the side of the table a few feet from him. Despite that, there was a full spread of food which his servants were already feeding him.

You had done your best to avoid the Baron in your short time here, but it seems this meeting was inevitable.

"Lady Atreides," his eyes turn toward you lazily. "Come. Eat."

"Good afternoon, Baron," you curtsy as you enter. Iassa bows to you and waits outside. You take your seat, "will it only be us, my lord? This seems a lavish spread for only two people."

"Are you calling me a glutton, girl?" he spats.

Your heart takes a beat as you try not to stare at his grotesquely large body.

"We are Harkonnen," his husky laugh rings through the room. "We may lavish as much as we please."

You exhale the breath you were holding and let out a small laugh. Of course. They were the richest house in the Landsraad. The Harkonnens must be accustomed to excess.

"Soon, child, you will be Harkonnen as well," he says in that gravelly voice that is so uncomfortably similar to Feyd-Rautha's. "Is that what you want?"

The question takes you aback. No one has ever asked you this question before. This betrothal has been decided for so long, you've never even thought to ask the question yourself. It was all you'd known. Your duty. You had never bothered to imagine what your life would have been if you weren't destined to marry the Harkonnen heir.

You regain your composure, "Baron, it is my honor to unite our Great-"

"Drop the act, child!" he barks. "Perhaps you fear me, but if you are to become 'family', I will not have the patience for charades. Speak plainly. Do you want to marry my nephew?"

This has been a most unusual exchange. At least compared to what you're used to. Always taught to be sweet and pleasant. You suppose you had nothing to lose, considering the Baron killing you would start an all-out war. You take a moment to think, and then a deep breath.

"I am a woman, dear Baron. There is not much for me in this life. Indeed, tales of your house's savagery are well-known throughout the systems, and in Caladan more than most. But had I not been betrothed to your nephew, I would only be married off to some other lord or count or whatever, gentler than Feyd-Rautha they may be," you swallow. "Perhaps, I could have been trained a Bene Gesserit sister. However, to become the wife of the heir to one of the most powerful houses in the known universe—there are worse fates."

The Baron stares, seemingly satisfied with your answer. He waves his servants away. "Eat, child. Waste not the food of one of the most powerful houses in the known universe."

He begins to glide towards the doors on his side of the hall and his servants scurry to lay down their forks and follow after him.

You look to the remaining servants in the dining hall, then to the mounds of food on the table. Your first dinner on Giedi Prime had felt suffocating with all the nobles around and Feyd-Rautha smugly breathing down your neck. You pile your plate high.

In your quarters, Iassa helps you out of your clothes and into a warm bath. You don't wait for her and begin scrubbing your skin with a rag yourself. Between the heat from the morning gladiator fights and your tense conversation with the Baron, you were happy to wash the sweat off your body.

"Is this alright, my lady?" Iassa is trying to wash your hair with the lightest touch, "Does it hurt you?"

"No, no. It's quite alright." You take over and she moves to begin scrubbing your legs.

You're grateful you brought bottles of your own hair soaps. You notice Iassa is intently observing how you washed your hair and you appreciate her wanting to learn. Although, you surmise she might not have a choice. Her black choker seems to stand out even more against her pale skin.

"How was your day, Iassa?" you say as you lather your hair.

She pauses in confusion. "It was quite alright, my lady," her voice is soft and polite.

"Do they treat you well?" you knew it was a futile question.

"I am property of House Harkonnen, my lady," she says as she pours more water into the grey stone bath, "I am treated appropriately."

"Yes, but do you mean appropriately as in well or appropriately as in—" your desperate attempt to make a friend seems to be slipping through your fingers. You let out an exasperated sigh, "I know it's only been a few days but, do I treat you well, Iassa?"

She takes a moment and smiles up at you, "My lady has been most gracious." You see in her eyes she means it.

"You were right about the na-Baron," you say, "he is formidable indeed."

"I'm pleased my lady was impressed," she wraps a robe around you as you rise from the bath.

"Well, I don't know about impressed," you say as you step out, "he is a decent fighter, certainly. Perhaps it is a difference in the fighting styles of our worlds."

After helping you dress, Iassa bows and leaves you to retire. Her grey robes flowing behind her.

Once alone, you find your father's dagger in your belongings. The Baron's earlier question comes back to you. Is that what you want? To marry Fayd-Rautha? That night, you sleep clutching the knife close to your heart.

When you awake the following morning, you are greeted by a servant girl bringing you breakfast.

"Where is Iassa?" you ask.

"She has been relieved, my lady," the girl looks even younger than Iassa, "I am Zora."

Your brow furrows, "What does that mean, 'relieved'?"

When Zora remains silent, you get up from the bed.

On the dark grey of your vanity, you notice a black strip of leather. A choker identical to your new servant's but it was unmistakable who it belonged to. Your mind ran through the whys and your blood began to boil.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove

[i-actually-post-stuff]

I'm participating in @mcspirkevents Mcspirk month by posting every Friday. I'll be using one prompt from each row of the month. Here's a preview of my piece for NSFT (using T instead of W for Tumblr censorship purposes); 3-1; non-human genitalia.

Find the full image below:

I did two variations, one without an ambient light layer and the other trying to make it look like there aren't fluorescent lights on.

Wow! NSFT art is really hard. I've only ever done this level of NSFT one other time and I've never posted publicly so I hope y'all enjoy!

[stormy-river]

Transcripts from the Humanity Hotline

If someone else has done something similar to this, I haven't seen it and I apologize. Otherwise, this is something I thought would be funny, and writing allows me to procrastinate on other things. Without further ado,

As an effort to foster trust and good will in the wake of the intergalactic treaty convention, many ships from the allied planets began to integrate other species into their crews. The need for experts and mediators to handle interspecies conflicts became quickly apparent. Of all the species, humans were reported to cause the most problems and misunderstandings, leading to the creation of the Humanity Hotline.

-------

Thank you for calling the humanity hotline. You will be connected with an operator shortly to answer any questions you may have regarding humans. This call may be recorded for training purposes.

Operator: "Hi, thank you for holding. My name is Mindy. What can I call you, and how may I help you today?"

Caller: "Yes, hello. I am Krryssk, the Personnel Officer of my ship. We recently hired a human, and she has been exhibiting strange behaviors. I am unsure how to handle this, or if I should worry for the safety of the crew."

O: "Alright, could you describe the behaviors? When did they start?"

C: "Yes, when we first hired her approximately six days ago, she was very quiet and kept to herself, fitting perfectly with the usual dynamic of the crew. But today, multiple crewmembers have reported that she has been making gestures at them and gave them things she calls, 'crochet', that she claims to have made. The crew is unsure of their purpose, and why she seems to be targeting only some of them with these actions. I searched our archives for this 'crochet', and found that is is made of yarn from an Earth animal's skin? What should I do to stop this? Is it some kind of code or signal of predatory intent?"

O: "Ah, I see. First, the yarn used for knitting and crocheting is not made from skin. Some yarns are made from the wool, or hair, of an animal, but yarn can also be made from sources other than animals. I believe I know why your human is acting this way, but to confirm my theory, are the crewmates she is... 'targeting'... the ones she works with the closest, or interacts with the most? And do the gestures involve moving an open hand back and forth in the air?"

C: "Yes! Yes, how did you know?"

O: "Alright. It is most likely that she is trying to befriend her crewmates. Hand-waving is a non-vocal greeting, acknowledgement, or goodbye, and some humans give gifts, such as handmade crochet, to people they care about or want to get to know better."

C: "So there is no predatory intent? I had heard that humans needed to socialize, but the captain said they hired the least social human they could find."

O: "Yes, many of the asocial or low-social species have done that, only to find that the human wasn't actually asocial, just shy or introverted. If possible, the crew can make their own gestures of acknowledgement in response to a wave, and just say, 'thank you,' for the gifts. That will likely keep her happy. For the long term, if the rest of the crew are asocial and uncomfortable socializing with her, you may want to hire another human or other social species. It's never good to have only one social crewmember."

C: "I will speak to the captain. Thank you."

End Transmission

[tossawary]

Part of the problem with discussing how racism manifests in fandom and in fan organizations is that to present a nuanced and thorough take on a complicated problem, which actually consists of a number of different complex issues with lots of different potential solutions each, you have write really, REALLY long posts about it.

And people don't read long posts.

Or they read the first part and get stuck on one point they don't agree with or can't 100% agree with. So they get caught up in proving one point wrong instead of at least expressing sympathy or sharing the parts they do actually agree with.

(Or people make fun of you for caring about "people being mean in fanfiction communities" as an issue. Because caring is cringe, apparently. Racism in hobbies like book clubs and local knitting groups and kid sports leagues is also important, even if it's "not that big of a deal" in the grand scheme of things in your opinion.)

Which can have (unintentional or intentional) vibes of telling fans of color to shut up about racism. Which is rude and understandably upsetting to people who have experienced this kind of harassment. Saying "go make your own archive" implies that the affected fans of color have not been a part of building the OTW or in running AO3 and don't belong there as writers or readers, which is untrue and unkind.

Now, I know that people have a kneejerk defensive reaction to any form of "We Need To Ban The Bad Fic That I Don't Like". I have that too. And I won't deny that this is a conversation partly about content moderation. And I won't deny that within this broad conversation between lots of different people who want to do something about fandom racism, there are probably some people who are calling to ban everything they find even a little problematic. They're always popping up. I don't agree with those people.

I didn't reblog End OTW Racism's Call to Action post the first time that I saw it because my brain wanted to chew on the thoughts it inspired. I thought a lot about how exactly to write detailed policy that could explicitly ban the worst examples of fanfiction used as intentional hate speech provably for the purpose of targeted harassment, while still ensuring the protection of the queer content, the problematic darkfic, and the explicit kinky fiction that the archive was created to host (which EOTWR also cares about). I do want fans to be able to explore some disturbing and distasteful topics, even if they don't always write it well, without being censored. And yet I also thought a lot about the "Paradox of Tolerance" as a social contract and what it meant to be "Fair to Unfair Voices".

I also thought a lot about how AO3 volunteers can never review every single thing posted to the website (which was not being suggested). And about how this issue intersects heavily with the structural issues that leave some AO3 volunteers overworked and underappreciated. And the structural issues that leave some AO3 volunteers feeling isolated, neglected, ignored, or mistreated. And also how AO3 is shockingly enormous now for being the result of volunteer work on a budget that's small compared to other non-profit organizations.

And honestly, I was fucking exhausted from my job that day and I cynically thought to myself, "I'll read through the links later, but I don't really see how changing the names on a bunch of fics is going to inspire great change within an organization."

(And the people behind this online protest are pretty open about the fact that they didn't expect their awareness campaign - and that's what it is: it's just an awareness campaign - to do anything on the front of "Solving Institutional Racism Immediately".)

But then I thought to myself, "Okay, but I do believe in antiracist action. And even if I don't think some of these suggestions are workable with the current state of things, or that the OTW will ever agree to some things here, there has got to be something here that could be done right now to make things a little better."

I kind of like the idea of expanding the required archive warnings so that more well-meaning people will opt-in to tagging triggering material, which is a form of content moderation. Like the way that the "Graphic Depictions of Violence" tag works already. Major Archive Warnings are left up to the author's best judgement unless reported. And even if people repeatedly refuse to use any relevant warning tags when writing blatantly racist stories, when they get reported for not even using "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", then we'll be pretty sure that they're doing it to be a jerk, and AO3 volunteers can suspend or ban them for it.

I like the idea of expanding the abuse policy and clearly defining its terms so that Policy and Abuse volunteers can still retain some freedom of best judgement, but also be more consistent about recognizing when someone is being a racist jerk in the comment section or being racist by gifting violently racist fic to fans of color or otherwise behaving badly. And I like the idea of improving the reporting system while keeping potential misuse in mind. And giving PAC volunteers better admin tools and other resources.

Even if you believe that AO3 is largely run by well-meaning queer women, I personally don't 100% trust that every single volunteer will be great at recognizing the many varied forms of racism, or antisemitism, or transphobia, or prejudice against bisexual or asexual or polyamorous people, or against mentally ill or physically disabled people. And part of this discussion is about when individual members of the PAC team have failed to address malicious behavior that is already explicitly covered by AO3's existing anti-bullying policy. Or that can't be solved by just blocking and muting someone.

Like, this discussion is about racism, and it's worth caring about solely for how it affects fans of color, but optimizing the abuse policy and protocols against harassment would better protect everyone. (And also, please do not assume that fans of color are not also older fans and/or queer fans who care about censorship.)

Some of End OTW Racism's offered solutions are suggestions originally made by AO3 itself back in 2020. A huge part of this discussion is just some fans (they're only, like, 5 people) trying to make some noise so that the OTW will give all users a thorough update on their progress. They are trying to raise awareness to keep the conversation about fandom bigotry going and recruit people to show up to OTW Board meetings to ask what obstacles need to be tackled. They want volunteers trying to change things internally to feel supported and for some more transparency on this subject to externally hold people accountable to their promises.

And I also thought, "Fuck it. This post is worth reblogging if only to remind people that AO3 needs work, to educate new fans on the history and present of fandom racism in general, and to maybe make one person out there feel less alone and connect them with some new friends. Fans of color don't have to be perfect to be heard."

I believe that AO3 has gotten bigger than ever anticipated and management of the OTW has only gotten harder. And I think hiring a diversity consultant, as per AO3's own suggestion back in 2020, sounds like a good idea to curb harassment of all kinds and improve the working conditions of volunteers. Outside contractors have been hired before and these professionals have no effect on OTW's non-profit status. A temporary consultant's job would be to identify where the organization is getting stuck and give suggestions on how to fight bigotry, and the OTW Board can just pick the solutions they think will work in practice with their mission statements.

Honestly, I kind of think it might be a good idea to also hire a security consultant of some kind after some of the harassment of AO3 volunteers in recent years. And if hiring some programming contractors would help the coding volunteers build better admin tools and make tag blacklisting happen sooner, then I support that as well. But that's all up to the OTW Board. And I want the OTW volunteers to know that I support their original suggestion to hire some outside professional help, so that fandom can begin to address some of these ongoing problems beyond just acknowledging that they exist, even if it simply starts with AO3 explicitly calling for more volunteers to get the planned work done.

Saying that there's nothing to be done is defeatist. Saying that the affected fans of color and their allies sound too angry or too serious or too ungrateful, or that everyone involved just doesn't understand how hard these things are, is pretty rude. I don't expect perfect solutions on the first try. I don't expect them immediately. I expect some of these things to take the OTW... years, honestly. I don't always feel very optimistic. I find this entire discussion discomforting and depressing. I'm not ungrateful to the OTW and AO3 when the community has been an undeniably good experience for me personally over the past 10 years. I want people to be able to escape into fandom at the end of a shitty day.

End OTW Racism's awareness campaign is one small part of a much broader discussion and you don't have to agree 100% with everything that they say. Or with what other people talking about fandom racism say (and some people, including academics and journalists and media critics and video essayists, have been talking about fandom racism for a long time). And you definitely don't have to 100% agree with what I've said here.

You don't have immediately volunteer all of your time to the OTW to fix these problems to be a good person. We all have other shit going on in our lives. Just... keep some of the points being made in mind moving forward, yeah? If you have a moment, maybe listen to some of the frustrations with an open mind, and maybe show a little extra love to your fellow fans who are going through it.

And if you have the energy to tear down what you think just one of EOTWR's suggestions is as bad - and they are NOT calling for every single fic on AO3 to be reviewed for problematic tropes or racial slurs before posting, that would be ridiculous, and it's disingenuous to misinterpret them that way - are you also separately talking about and supporting any of the antiracist actions and other harm reduction policies that you think are genuinely viable?

[scarletsaphire]

It's @ecto-implosion posting time folks! This is my fic for @pokkeshii, whose (incredible fantastic epic cool) art can be found here. And thank you to @pricklenettle for betaing, I really appreciate it!

This fic is 5 chapters, and will be posted every other day. The images are inserted during the fic, but PLEASE go show keshii the love and admiration she deserves for making this MASTERPIECE IT IS SO COOL!!!

Summary: Danny’s been doing fine. Sure, he has to focus on keeping himself from shaking, and the voice in his head goading him to hurt has been getting louder, but its fine. He’s got it under control. He’s human more than he is ghost, and he has things to fight for. He can’t afford to give in. He won’t give in. He won't.

Danny let his backpack fall to the ground beside him with a thud as he took his seat in the back of the classroom. His shoulders were tensed, his jaw was clenched, and his leg tapped a fast, anxious rhythm, causing his knees to bang against the bottom of the desk hard enough to hurt. Anything to help ease the vibration settled under his skin. It did help. Just a little.

He only had to make it through this class. One more class, and he’d be done with school today. One more class, and he’d be able to do something that actually helped. 

Danny raised his hand to his mouth on instinct, coughing the icy exhale of his ghost sense into his fist and suppressing a groan. He stood up and walked to the door, not bothering to get permission to leave or let the teacher know where he was going. All of the teachers at Casper High had long since given up on keeping Danny in class. Most of them had given up on Danny completely. He didn’t blame them.

The closest room was the janitor's closet, which was locked. That was annoying. He reached his hand through the door. The tingling in his hand got worse as it went intangible, nearly causing his whole arm to vibrate. He grit his teeth harder, and focused on unlocking the door from the inside. That's all he had to do. Unlock the door.

He heard the soft click of lock, and pulled his hand back quickly, dropping his intangibility. He shook it, trying to get the residual tingles out. He kept trying even as he slipped into the dark, musty confines of the janitor's closet, pushing the mop that probably hadn't been used in months out of his way. He stopped shaking his wrist, and braced himself. 

His transformation washed over him quietly. Danny kept his eyes shut tight, his fingers digging into the side of the splintered shelving unit. As he shifted the vibration only got worse, more severe, and his grip tightened until the wood started to crack under his grip. Finally, his transformation finished and the sensation faded away into the normal vibration of his core and a persistent voice in the back of his head. A voice that he would not acknowledge.

Danny still didn't let go of the shelves. He focused on taking breaths he didn't need, pushing that voice further and further back. For a moment, his entire purpose narrowed down to suppressing it. One deep breath in, one deep breath out, and a futile attempt to quiet his mind. 

It took the scream of someone out in the parking lot for him to snap out of his haze. Not a scream of pain, thankfully, but one of joy, calling out Ember’s name. Now that he was focusing, he could hear Ember singing from somewhere outside the school. 

Just because they weren’t hurt yet didn’t mean he could waste time. Every second he waited was another that someone could be in danger. But he couldn't just throw himself into a fight anymore. He needed to prepare himself, or else that voice in his head might get what it wanted. If that started, it wouldn't be a fight Danny could win.

With one last exhale he let go of the cabinet and let his body relax. He couldn't waste any more time. 

—

Ember was about where he expected to find her; crowd surfing on a small hoard of teenagers and shredding her guitar all the while. 

"You know, for someone who can fly, you'd think you'd be able to stay in tune while crowd surfing."

Ember floated up off the crowd, much to the mind controlled masses disappointment. "There you are baby pop," she said. "Always fashionably late these days. Might as well try not showing up next time."

"And leave you to inflict mediocre half finished songs on these poor people?" Danny crossed his arms and bared his teeth in an almost smile. "Not a chance."

Ember scowled at him, and his smiled widened. Ember was always easy to goad. "Why you little-" she cut herself off by flying up to him,  her hands fluttering over the strings. Danny dodged to the left of the sonic blast she sent his way. He let his body settle into the routine of the fight, and let his mind clear. Even the voice that normally pounded against his skull went quiet. It was satiated. At least for now.

Danny switched his momentum on a dime, twisting back to charge at Ember. She could throw a punch if she needed to, but she always preferred distance. That meant that if Danny wanted to end this fight quickly, he should take advantage of that. " But why would you want it to end early?" The voice whispered. It sounded like him, blending in with the rest of his thoughts. "You always have such a good time. Why cut it short?"  

Ember twisted her guitar around to block Danny's approach, sending out another sonic blast at him. He tried to maneuver out of the way but was pushed back. He managed to stay on his feet- or at least stayed oriented the way he wanted to be. Danny his ectoblasts in his hands, continuing the charge. He launched them both at Ember, but she deflected the first one into a nearby car, the other one whizzing just by her ear. 

Danny was almost close enough to grab her, but she let herself fall back into the crowd still gathered below. Danny cursed, hovering above the heads of the people, glaring down at Ember. "Aw, what's wrong? Still struggle with crowd control?" She strummed her guitar again, and the star struck crowd went from hovering around her to trying to climb on top of each other. She’d used this trick before; they were trying to grab Danny and pull him down.

He needed to separate Ember from her groupies. Even if she hadn't decided to weaponize them, just their presence was boosting her power. Now that she was in the center of them, she was even more of a threat. Getting her out without hurting any of the people was going to be a problem. The one good thing about this situation was that Ember wouldn't hurt the humans herself; injured fans didn't cheer as loud.

"Why worry about it? They're the ones in your way. It would be so simple if you just stopped worrying about them."

Danny let himself float further away, and the crowd stumbled on top of one another as they all tried to follow after him.  Ember stayed behind the group, strumming a cord on her guitar and a wave of sonic energy at him. He dodged it without a thought. Interesting. Just as his plan started formulating, he started talking. "And here I thought you liked being center stage. Just letting all these folks steal your spotlight?" 

"Every good musician has background dancers," Ember said. Another ectoblast was fired Danny's way, and he flew further backwards to avoid it. The crowd continued stumbling after him reaching over each other and trying to grab his boots. 

"They don't seem very background to me," Danny shouted. Another ectoblast, and another few feet backwards. 

"Then we'll call it my opening act. Once they're done with you, I'll be sure to put on a real show. " She laughed and sent a volley of attacks at Danny, pushing him further back. 

As soon as there was a break in the attacks Danny leapt off the ground, flying forward as fast as he could. His legs shifted into a tail behind him, letting him fly even faster. He zoomed over the heads of the crowd, their reaction speed too slow to grab him. The group had been following him as he led them away, creating a nice space between them and Ember. Enough space for him to do what he needed to do.

"Enough space for you to do what you want to do. Stop being such a stick in the mud. Let yourself go a little, let yourself tear her apart, just-"

Ember had enough time to dodge to the side, but he'd expected that. A blast of pure cold left his hands directly towards Ember. The already icy ground was coated in a layer of frost, and Ember hissed as her flame hair flickered from the change in temperature. Danny used the opportunity to skirt around her, transferring his momentum onto the ice. By the time she turned around, Danny had his hand pressed to her side, an ectoblast charged against it.

"Bye." Danny waved, and Ember was sent flying into the side of the school. 

Danny turned towards the school. Ember was sitting in a pile of what used to have been the wall, the foundation of the school visible through the bricks. She was clearly dazed, as she hadn’t bother to try and phase out of the pile yet. This was the perfect chance to end the fight. His hand went to the Fenton Thermos on his belt

"Keep fighting. Prove that you're stronger, prove that you're the best. Show her what happens when someone messes with you, with your territory. She's vulnerable. She's weak. Make her never able to show her face again. Or even better, take her face."

Danny shook his head and uncapped the thermos. Ember was sucked inside, leaving claw marks on the ground as she went. Danny twisted the cap back on. He let himself just one moment to exhale, just one second. He just needed one second. And one second turned to two, and then three.

Unfortunately for Danny, that was too long. Three seconds was enough time for the mind controlled humans to snap out of it, gather their bearings, and see him standing there. As much as he loathed it, Phantom was a celebrity. Now the crowd of people were trying to grab at him of their own volition. All he had to do was turn intangible. All he had to do was fly away. The fight was over, they weren't trying to hurt him. He didn't want to hurt them.

The voice in his head didn't care.

You can stop them with nothing more than a thought. They’re too weak, a threat to what’s yours. You can fix it, get rid of the problem in the blink of an eye.

Danny tightened his fists further. He heard the creaking of metal; he was still holding the Fenton thermos. That wasn't good. He couldn't deal with another fight. Not right now. But you want to. Let her back out. Finish this, properly. Not when he was like this.

It took more effort than he'd care to admit to let his intangibility wash back over him. The act itself was just as easy as ever. The problem was convincing as much of himself as he could that he didn't want to touch these people, let alone hurt them, that he wanted to get away, not hurt attack fight -

Danny flew away, soaring up into the sky and blinking out of vision. Here, floating high enough that he couldn't hear their voices, couldn't feel their grabbing hands, the voice in his head was...manageable. Only a bit more annoying than the buzzing he'd grown so used to. He'd been dealing with it long enough to know that the second he got back near the crowd, or anyone else, it would only get worse. He needed a good place to cool down. He just needed time.

He wanted to go to the school’s roof. That had always been his go to spot, back before the voice got so loud. No one was ever up there, no one could see him, and it had a fantastic view of Amity Park. But he needed to go ghost to get down, and that wouldn’t help him. The bell still hadn't rung for the school yet, but it would soon. Even if the group of people had dispersed, the parking lots were out. So were the bleachers, the soccer field, anywhere inside the school, the front steps...

Danny started flying towards the woods. It was cold out, cold enough that most everyone was wearing winter coats, even if the trees still clung stubbornly to nearly dead leaves. No one would be in the woods in this type of weather. As long as the animals stayed far away from him it would be fine. They probably would. Most animals had been scared of him since the accident. At least now they had good reason to be.

The moment Danny was certain that the trees would cover him, he transformed back. The voice was fainter like that, but still there, whispering in Danny’s head. All that really changed was that  the vibration under his skin had returned, stronger than it had been at any other point today. It shook Danny hard enough for his teeth to start chattering, for his legs to give out underneath him. He didn’t quite enter the fetal position- the voice in his head wouldn’t let him give up that last scrap of his dignity. But he did dig his fingers into the ground until they were nearly completely submerged, and heaved heavy breaths into the earth. His labored breathing wasn’t because of the earlier fight, or the effort of holding back the trembling, or even trying to resist the temptation of the voice. His breathing was labored because he was forcing air into lungs that didn’t need it anymore, forcing organs that had started to forget how to work to remember again. 

Danny choked on every breath, but he didn’t stop. Humans needed to breathe, and Danny was still human. He had to be. 

With no targets around, the voice in his head faded away to a faint whisper, drowned out by the vibrations still rattling his bones. After a few more minutes, that too subsided to a now familiar hum. It was still uncomfortable; Danny refused to ever find it comfortable. But it was manageable. 

He climbed back onto still shaking feet, and started to walk back towards the school. He'd lost track of time, but he was almost certain that the bell had rung by now. Sam and Tucker would have heard the fight and would be looking for him. Danny couldn't afford to be late. Not again.

---

He took a seat on the half wall that lined the teacher's parking lot. No students would be coming that way, and the teachers wouldn't be out for another thirty minutes or so. Danny shot a quick text off to Sam, nothing more than his location. He didn't bother going back for his backpack. One of his friends would grab it; it was routine at this point.

In the few minutes it took for Sam and Tucker to round the corner of the school, the vibration had faded to its normal level. Bothersome, distracting, and just shy of painful, but manageable, and more importantly, something Danny was able to hide.

Sam tossed the backpack at Danny's feet at the same time he hopped off the small wall. "Thanks for letting us know how it went," she said, crossing her arms.

"It was just Ember," Danny said dismissively. "It's not like it's something we haven't seen before."

"You could at least let us know!" she snapped. "Or come back to class after? I know you had time, but no. You have to ditch us, and everyone else, just like you're always doing lately."

"I am not ditching you," Danny lied. It came out far sharper than he intended. "Tucker, back me up."

Tucker pulled a face. "You know I've always got your back, dude, but... well, Sam is right. You have been disappearing after fights. Even when its just us. We've talked about it before."

"Oh, so what, I'm not allowed to take some time to recover?" Danny said.

Sam took a deep breath, exhaling in a puff of cold air. "You can recover with us. Do you have any idea how hard it is to deal with everything when you just take off and leave? We're worried-"

Danny cut her off. "Oh, it's hard for you? Newsflash, I'm the one who takes the hits. I'm the one who gets thrown into walls. I'm the one who has to fight-" Danny cut himself off. He couldn't mention the voice, couldn't mention any of it. "If its so hard for you, than maybe you should just quit."

"Danny, that's not what we-" Tucker started, but Sam talked over him.

"Quit? You're asking us to quit because we're worried about you?" Sam said. "Do you even hear yourself right now?"

"Yeah, I do," Danny retorted. "I know what I'm saying, just like I know what I'm doing. Or are you going to try and say that I'm doing that wrong too?"

"I'm not saying that you don't know what you're doing!" Sam shouted. "I'm saying that you should at least tell us! We're your friends, Danny!"

"I don't need to tell you shit," Danny spat back. "If you were my friends, you'd understand that."

"Danny, Sam, please-" Tucker tried again.

"Oh, so we're not your friends now?" Sam pressed forward, crowding Danny’s vision. "Fine then! You clearly don't want us around anymore, so we will quit. When you realize just how shit you do without us, let us know." She grabbed Tucker by the arm, walking back to the school. "Come on, Tuck. We're going home."

Tucker looked between Sam and Danny rapidly, clearly conflicted. Danny waited for him to do something, anything, but by the time they reached the walkway at the end of the parking lot, Tucker was walking of his own accord. All Danny got was an apologetic look.

Danny bent down and swung his backpack over his shoulder with a thud. He didn't know why he expected anything. It was a miracle they'd stuck with him as long as they had. But it was fine. Danny was fine.

He couldn't afford not to be.

[kortsitron]

Give him a ride

Pairing: Ramattra × Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: smut, dom/sub dynamic, dom! reader, sub! ramattra, reader's genitalia not specified, masturbation, watching porn, swearing, face riding, "hair" pulling, kinda fluffy, dick riding

Summary: Ramattra interrupted you while you were getting off and how he's paying you back for it.

Author’s Note: It was requested by Jenny on Archive Of Our Own. Basically Dom! Reader with Sub! Ramattra. Ngl I was kinda excited to write it so I hope it turns out well. I hope you're going to like it, Jenny! ^^

You couldn't remember how you got to the state you were currently in, and yet there you were. Middle of the night, the only source of light being your phone. Some porn was playing on it. You knew that you were going to wonder what you were watching, but it didn't matter at that very moment.

Your mind was clouded by lust. Quiet moans were escaping your lips as you touched yourself shamelessly. Your body was already covered in sweat and your cheeks were red. You were getting closer and closer to that sweet release. You could feel your thighs start to shake. Almost there. And where you were about to come…

There was knocking on your door. 

It surprised you and you completely lost focus. You cursed under your breath and got up from the bed. You put your phone down, not ever taking the time to at least turn the brightness down. You got frustrated so quickly, you wanted to yell at whoever just knocked on the door. You hoped it was something important, because of how thrown off the mood you were.

Before you opened the door, put on some oversize shirt and underwear. Then quickly fixed your hair.

You opened the door to see Ramattra. Before he could even greet you, you barked at him. "Do you fucking realize what time is it?!" You crossed your arm together, trying to calm down your breathing. 

"And what happened to you?" He asked, surprised by your reaction. Ramattra without a thought went inside and turned on the light in the living room. He took a look at you. He noticed your breathing, that you were blushing, that you looked like a mess. He decided to ask again. "What happened?"

"What happened?! I get that you enjoy spending time at my apartment, but I deserve to have some fucking privacy, Ramattra!" You exploded at him, he took a step back, wondering what you must have been doing that he interrupted that got you so angry. "Do you have anything to say?"

He was quiet. For it felt like he was quiet for years before speaking up again. "I do not, I'm… sorry."

You signed, you couldn't be angry at him. You were aware that he didn't interrupt you on purpose. And yet, you wanted him to pay back for what he had done. But you didn't know to say it out loud without making the situation weird.

"Is there anything I can do for you right now?" Opportunity was right before you and you couldn't help, but want to use it.

"Well… There's a thing you could do to make the situation right." You smirked at him and stepped closer to him. Your hand immediately on his arm, caressing it gently.

"And what is it?" He tilted his head curiously.

"Be a good boy and do what I want you and everything will be fine." You felt your confidence growing and the pleasant heat coming back to your legs. 

Without the said confidence, you wouldn't be able to ask Ramattra for such a thing. You knew who he was, what he did and what he was capable of. You knew you wouldn't be surprised if he wouldn't listen to you. To a human.

It seemed like eternity, but Ramattra finally answered. "Alright. I'll be good." His voice was low.

"On your knees." You told him without a second thought. He just nodded and did what he was told to. You chuckled and took off his scarf and took his scepter to put it on the nearest table. You came back to him slowly, grabbed him by the chin and made him look you into your eyes. "We will have so much fun, you know?"

"So it is real that humans get empty-headed when they are horny." He commented on how dominant you suddenly were. 

"Don't forget who's on their knees right now." You chuckled at him. You could tell he was waiting for your orders. It all felt like some twisted wet dream. "Why don't you help me take my clothes off, hmm?"

You suddenly felt his metallic hand on you, going up, helping you like was ordered to. A moan escaped your moan at the sensation, before you took your shirt off. "Take them all the way by yourself." You panted, crossing your arms. He grabbed your underwear and slowly started taking it off. You signed, clearly unhappy. "Don't tease me and do it faster. And keep looking at me. You'll have a better look at me soon."

If he could roll his eyes, he would. But he took your underwear off faster, keeping his eyes on you. "Good." You commented, taking your underwear and throwing it somewhere on the floor. "Now lay on the floor." You bit your lip at the thought of what was about to happen next.

"May I ask what you're planning to do?" He laid on the floor, seeing how in the meanwhile you got some lube. 

"You don't have a mouth, so I can ride your face properly, but I can grind on it." You felt your heart pound in your chest, excitement going through you. "Your face plate is so smooth I bet it's going to feel amazing." You sat down on his chest, covering his face with a tiny bit of lube, for better sensation. "Don't worry, I'll clean you right after. And don't worry, I know how to clean Omnics. "

"Alright." He watched you carefully as you were spreading lube across his face, before putting it down beside him.

"I could tell you to hold your breath, but unfortunately I can't." You chuckled, getting lube out of your hands. "Keep hands to yourself. If you do that, I might reward you for being so good for me." You finally informed him, before sitting on his face and letting out gasp at the feeling of his cold face plate touching your warm private parts.

Shiver went down your spine and you knew Ramattra felt it. Without wasting any more time, you started grinding on his face and it felt good. It felt better than you thought it would feel. His smooth face was perfect for riding. 

You couldn't help yourself and you threw your head back slightly, a loud but broken moan escaped your lips. You couldn't remember then last time, you felt this good.

Once again, your mind was getting clouded by lust. But this time, it felt way better than a moment ago. Your hands weren't able to give you this kind of sensation. But with every second, you wanted to touch yourself, to get to that gorgeous edge faster and come on Ramattra's face.

You were sure that by now he thought that humans were just shameless creatures that would do anything just for a release. But you didn't care. He could  think whatever he wanted, you were going to worry about that later.

You were clouded, that you didn't notice, when Ramattra started getting himself off and morning quietly under you. "Haha, are you sure humans are the only ones to be empty-headed when they're horny?" You wanted to laugh at him, but whines escaping your lips could let you do that.

You were so close, you just couldn't wait any longer. You started touching yourself with a very chaotic rhythm. Getting closer and closer, before you finally came on his face. You breathed heavily, before hearing him let out a groan under you, seeing hit the release as well.

"You're lucky I didn't say anything about masturbation." You bit your lip at the sight of him laying under you.

"You almost didn't notice that I was getting off." He laughed. "If you didn't turn around, you wouldn't notice until I was done."

"Brat." You shook your head at him, before fixing your hair and going for a towel to clean him up. "Sit up." You commanded when you came back to him. He sat up and you started cleaning him.

"Tell me - was riding my face, a little wet dream of yours?" You signed at that.

"Maybe." You smirked at him. "But you didn't act like you didn't enjoy yourself. I'm sure Omnics don't masturbate without a good reason, you dirty minded whore."

"Don't call me a whore. It's a better nickname for you."

"Don't talk back or might change my mind and not fuck you."

"O-oh." Ramattra, once again, was surprised. He thought you were done and you would tell him to leave. You could say that if he was a human, he would be blushing hard at that moment. 

"You like that idea?" You stood up, playing with the wires on his head that were supposed to imitate hair. He nodded. "You better do. And trust me, you'll be in heaven, Ramattra." You tugged his hair wires, making Ramattra let out a moan. "You are such whore." You giggled at him, before throwing the towel somewhere in the bathroom.

You came back to him, giving him a hand so he could stand up and go with you to your bedroom. You quickly turned off the light in the living room, before turning on some led light in the bedroom. "Lay on the bed, I'll get the lube." You told him, before leaving the room.

Ramattra laid on the bed, noticing your phone and grabbing it. He laughed at the sigh of what was playing on it. 

You came back to see him with your phone. "What?" You asked confused. 

"So I interrupted you while you were watching porn? Hah! Are you sure I should be called a dirty minded whore?" He chuckled, before turning your phone off and putting it down.

You shook your head at him, before sitting on the bed and opening the lube, pouring the liquid on your fingers. "I'll get a rope and try overstimulating you if you want to play like that."

"N-no. Maybe next time." 

"Then be good, like you promised earlier." He nodded. Ramattra was laying completely still when he watched you get on top of him, getting lube at your entrance.

His eyes were completely glued to you while you slowly sat on his cock. "Fuck." You cursed under breath, at how big he was. You whined, when he was fully inside of you. 

You slowly started going up and down on him, building up a steady peace that would satisfy you. It felt so good. His dick was hitting that sweet stop inside you everytime and it felt amazing. "You should've… should've interrupted me earlier. If I knew it would feel this good, I would started fucking with you much earlier." You could barely speak, you weren't riding him for long and you already felt overwhelmed with pleasure. 

You noticed that Ramattra was overwhelmed as well, but you wanted him to get in the moment with you. You grabbed him by the hair wires, pulling him to look at you. He groaned at that. "Keep looking at me. Or I will… I will stop." You knew that was a lie. It felt too good and you were not going to stop until you would reach your orgasm. 

Ramattra let out a breathy confirmation and your hand went to his metallic chest. It was getting warmer and warmer. "Don't explode on me here." Your mind wasn't working properly, so you couldn't focus on how many meanings that sentence had.

"Fuck, Ramattra!" You cried out, reaching your orgasm. Ramattra, again, was right behind you. He filled you up with warm fluid, making a shiver go down your spine.

He let out a breathy laugh before commenting on the whole situation. "I bet your neighbors know my name too well from now on."

"I don't think they know it well enough. One more round and they should know it for good."

[kyra45]

Pet donation scams

What is a pet donation scam? - This kind of scam is most commonly done with cats though on occasion a dog is used. When someone is doing this scam, they have went on a private group or public site and saved the post there such as it’s images,story, and the owners name. The scam is that when they repost it to here, they have edited out any real fundraiser method and replaced it with their own fraudulent one. They don’t actually own the cat/dog but have copied the real fundraiser just enough to pass it off as their own pet. Nothing in the post tells you it’s someone else’s pet as they really want you to trust them enough to send money without looking too much into it. While the images and story are legitimate, the other information has been purposely removed. Nothing given goes to the animal in need.

Was there an ask sent? - Commonly found by asks that are sent requesting private answers. Recently, these asks tell you they don’t want people thinking you was pressured into sharing the post and people might be weird about it. Really, they just don’t want people seeing your answer when the ask is searched because you’d see how many others have got it and may have called it out. These asks are designed to guilt trip you and shame people who call them out but usually gives it away their not being honest since no one would ask you something like that. You might get this ask by sharing a trending/popular post.

How much content is on the account itself? - When checking the blog out that sent you the ask or has the post shared by someone you follow, keep in mind how many posts the account has overall. Usually there’s only a few trending/popular/fandom posts shared and then the pinned post itself. Their archive is usually turned off so you can’t see this; But scrolling for a few minutes should mean you’ll find the last post quickly. Turning on timestamps should also show you the posts were all shared at the same time too and they don’t have any tags either.

Have you asked them questions? - If unsure of the account’s legitimacy, I suggest asking them a few questions about the pet: How long have they had them? Do they have older vet records of past visits? Can they show you a recent pic of them holding their name on a paper near the cat? Would calling the vet itself be possible for donating? Any of these would be answered easily by someone who actually owns the pet. But those who don’t own them won’t be able to answer or properly.

What is a quick way to spot this scam? - Check the date of the pinned post. It’s usually only a few hours old, a day old, or even a week old. Another way is searching the bio to see if it’s been stolen off someone else. Look at the vet location and then press/hold or hover over the link they give you. If the country doesn’t match the state, it’s likely not the real owner of the pets link. As these suspicious accounts tend to impersonate the actual owners closely in order to look legitimate.

What to do once you figure out it’s a scam? - Warn anyone who doesn’t know it’s a scam and has shared the post unless they’ve called them out. Report the account for phishing (Report -> Something else -> Illegal uses or content -> Phishing), block them, then alert your followers as well. Keep in mind scammers will always delete/hide any replies/reblogs that have called them out.

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If you like this guide, feel free to check out my blog as I report on these scams nearly daily among other kinds of scams that I post about. If you like my hobby, feel free to drop some pocket change as thanks! However, all I really want you to do is share this post to help me bring awareness of tumblr scams. Send it to people who might not know what a pet donation scam is or link to it in posts you make! Thanks. Hope this information is helpful!

[anisaanisa]

Drawtober 2023 (Now on AO3)

[Series Tag] [Art Tag] [FAQs Below the Cut]

Who: Hi I'm Anisa and I'm feral for feudal fairy tales :)　

What: Drawtober is a label for a project that comprised of a theme, and a list of ideas. If you wanna see the thoughts behind those themes, I've attached some meta notes over on AO3. For nifty purposes.

When: Right now. I've also taken the liberty of compliling my 2023 Pride Month series in a similar format, and will likely continue to do so whenever the urge strikes/the shoe fits.

Where: Specifically on my Artnisa pseudoname. Previously, this was exclusive to collabs where I was the arteest and had no hand in the writing. I may choose to shift gears somewhere down the line, but for now, that's where they'll be.

Why: Fandom, as a contruct, is ever-changing, and Tumblr, the frontline of such a construct, is doing the most to kill desktop navigation whilst speed-running the Focus Theft Race; pair that with a testy search function, ever-evolving "porn bots" sniping tag usability, it can be a 'mare finding fanworks out there, in the Tumblr dot com wilds, let alone attempting to create some form of personal archive in the comfort of your own blog. So, as the Internet shifts, like all cultures do, it feels high time to start archiving properly. On the archive. For posterity and such.

How: Laughable that the only mention of this guide on Tumblr exists in the form of a button on the aformentioned desktop navigation, but here's a beginner friendly tutorial on how to add images to AO3 for any writers/artists that would like to learn how to do so. Plus some other fun stuff in and around it. Of course :D

Bonus Fun Fact: There's a black & white image under each post, though I added no context. When I'm done with something that toes the semi-realism lines like this lot, I like to turn RGB off to see how my values (light and shadows, essentially) turned out. I paint in colour, so seeing that the light was Just Right when said colour is no longer there to lean on is like a little reward. I just think they're neat. Thank you :)

Bonus Bonus Fact: There is a 753 word strong ficlet hidden in there, somwhere :3

Forehead smooches 💋🤸‍♂️