#even hyperfixation for me isn’t quite right

[lycanpunk666]

Going from TMA to Malevolent is such a wild change in tone. I feel a bit guilty that I’m jumping so hard from one interest to another but frankly the only thing I even care about from TMA right now in terms of continued hyperfixation is the fear sorting, but…

Idk Malevolent is such a massive relief, it gets so much grittier than TMA. Like it actually feels more MATURE to me. TMA as a broader series is fine ofc, like I genuinely do like it quite a bit but actually listening to malevolent made me realize just how much the characters just sort of melt together or feel like fandom archetypes (“sopping wet cat boy/man” “softboy bf” “funny bisexual man”) which is insane because I know the actual characters AREN’T LIKE THAT, and the fandom’s just warped my perception of them…

TMAGP just straight up is not my thing, I don’t really like the tone (more comedic than I’d like it to be) and the characters just plain aren’t intriguing enough to me for me to want to stay just yet. I’m giving it some more time cuz both properties are slow burns, and I have the intention of listening to the dog episode (love me a weird unsettling dog) but… the office drama just isn’t interesting to me and the horror is certainly not hitting at all. I liked “putting down roots” very much as well as the violin episode, but I doubt those tones will stay very consistent. Idk I have a high probability of being wrong!

[fortyfive-forty]

truly my life was altered the day i discovered the word brainrot like nothing quite encapsulates my inability to be normal about things like the word brainrot

[hintsofhoney]

His Favorite Meal

Pairing(s): Rhysand x F!Reader

Summary: Rhysand hears your dirty thoughts while you're at dinner with your friends. It goes as expected.

Square(s) Filled: free space for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Tags: 18+, smutty smut smut, oral sex (female receiving), light dom/sub dynamics, use of magic, p in v, unprotected sex, light spanking

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Hi, I just finished A Court of Mist and Fury and this is my new hyperfixation now. Funnily enough, I wrote this before I got to any kinds of sex scenes between Rhys and Feyre, and when I did finally get to Chapter 55, I was impressed with myself for how close to canon I wrote this 🤣 Anywho, I hope you enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

MAIN MASTERLIST

You can’t stop thinking about him, not for lack of trying.

Rhysand and his stupid dark hair and violet eyes and the way the word darling rolls off his tongue and makes your thighs clench. 

You would even let him take you here and now, if it meant that the thoughts of him would subside.

He raises his eyebrows at you from across the table, Mor and Az and Cassian too caught up in their own conversation to notice. 

Really? Right on this table? With everyone watching? he sends down the bond. 

You shoot him a cold glare. Get out of my head.

If you didn’t want me in it, Y/N, darling, I wouldn’t be.

He isn’t wrong. You both know it.

I can make them leave, if the table is truly where you’d like me to fuck you. Personally, I find the bed —

Shut up, and eat your dinner . If you had said it outloud, it would have been through gritted teeth.

Rhys cocks his head to the side, briefly taken aback by your bite, and then smiles. Careful, darling , you hear in your head, if I have to take you over my knee, I won’t be asking anyone to leave first.

You squeeze your thighs together at the threat, the heat building between them becoming uncomfortable. You’re desperate. You need him.

That bad, hm? he asks.

You watch as he takes a sip of wine, his eyes never leaving yours.

Say the word and they’re gone, or continue to torture yourself. Up to you.

The prick wanted you to ask for it. Beg for it. As if your thoughts hadn’t been enough.

That “prick” will not hesitate to punish you in front of our friends. 

You feel yourself clench around nothing. 

Please, Rhys , you give in. 

He smirks, taking another sip from his glass. Please, what?

You swallow your pride. Not that there’s much left of it. Please fuck me.

Please fuck you, where?

This ass— 

His eyebrows raise — your final warning — and it stops your thought dead in its tracks. You take a deep breath. 

Please fuck me on the table, Rhys.

He grins. All you had to do was ask.

You put your shield up for a brief second so you can mentally roll your eyes in peace. When it comes down, Az, Cassian, and Mor are getting up from their seats.

“We eat here,” Cassian reminds the both of you as he stands.

Rhys is looking at you with hungry eyes as he replies, “Who says I won’t be eating?”

“Eugh!” Mor groans, making her way towards the exit. “At least wait until I’m out of earshot.”

Cassian snorts before following her out, Azriel having been the first to leave. 

And now it’s just you and Rhys and the table between you.

You blink, and suddenly his face is inches from yours, leaning over you with his hands resting on your thighs as he smirks at your shaky breaths. You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. He places a curled pointer finger underneath your chin, his thumb slowly tracing over your bottom lip, letting out a low chuckle at how your mouth begins to open ever so slightly.

He leans in, his lips meeting yours with a gentleness that doesn’t quite match the lust in his eyes, and you know you’re in for a long night. It could be hours before you were going to feel the release you had been begging him for.

“As far as I’m concerned, I shouldn’t let you cum at all, considering the names I’ve been called,” he murmurs, as he kisses your way up your jaw line, down your neck. 

You whimper at the notion, at the thought of being left reeling, wanting, on the table. Right now, you can’t imagine anything worse. 

“That’s very dramatic,” he whispers, his voice lined with a teasing smile. You watch him drop to his knees in front of you, slowly pushing your long gown up to your thighs. “But if you truly cannot imagine anything worse, then I suppose I’ll give you what you want, my darling girl.” 

You tense at his words, at the way he grabs ahold of your leg and places it over his shoulder, at the way he licks his lips, as if he’s about to dig into his favorite meal. 

He stops. “Of course, I had forgotten,” he says, and there’s a flash of darkness before you find yourself lying on the table, with Rhys kneeling at the end of it. His hands are gripping the underside of your thighs, pushing them upwards and outwards. In one fell swoop, he rips off the black lace covering your core, baring you to him. “I eat my meals at the table.” 

You let your head fall onto the hard surface underneath you. Fuck .

“Oh, I plan to,” he replies, placing a soft kiss on your inner thigh. “But I’m going to have my fun first.”

You swear his tongue has magic of its own with the way it moves between your folds, pulling short breaths from your lungs as he circles it around your clit, never staying in one spot long enough to grant you the release that you so badly crave. When he adds two fingers, your back arches off the table, and you whimper as you feel his magic pinning you down in response. 

“ Please , Rhys,” you practically sob, your thighs quaking as you try to remain still, trying to keep your orgasm at bay. 

“You’re not going to cum already, are you, darling?” he asks, but you know it’s not a question you can say ‘yes’ to. You know you’re his . You won’t cum until he tells you to. 

He chuckles at your thoughts. “Good girl,” he praises, his fingers curling inside you at just the right spot, and the combination of the two almost sends you over the edge. Almost. Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. You find yourself on the precipice of release too many times to count, having to take deep breaths to keep yourself grounded. Eventually, you accept this new tortured existence.

Very dramatic , Rhys teases.

You yelp as he stops his ministrations and pulls out of you too abruptly for your liking, standing up before pulling you to the edge of the table and flipping you over by your hips, your bare feet meeting the cool marble floor. It only takes seconds before he’s dragging his cock through your soaked folds, teasing you even further. You wiggle your ass — a silent plea — and he spanks it in return — an audible warning to be still that echoes through the dining hall. 

“Ow!” you whine, forcing your body to comply with his demand. 

Another smack, on the other cheek this time.

“Rhys!”

“Do I need to gag you? Or are you going to quit your whining?” 

Another hit, harder than the others. A test. You remain silent and still.

“Although I must admit… I do love watching your ass change colors.” You brace yourself for another hit that never comes. Instead, you get no warning as Rhys thrusts into you in one swift motion. “But I’ll save it for the next time you feel like mouthing off.”

You grip the edges of the table as he pounds into you, his hand coming to wrap around your shoulder for leverage, his cock filling you up, hitting your sweet spot with every stroke. Your moans are unsteady and never-ending, only interrupted by the expletives falling from your lips.

“Oh m-my —  fuck — Rhys!”

He smirks, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you up off of the table, your back flush with his muscled, tattooed chest. You start to wonder when his shirt came off before you realize that his hands are holding your bare breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers. Magic has a number of uses — making clothes vanish off bodies being one of them. 

He continues to thrust into you as one of his hands makes its way down to your core, swollen and throbbing. When his skillful fingers find your clit, you throw your head back onto his shoulder. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” you chant. You’re unsure of how much longer you can take it. Five agonizing seconds pass — then ten — and then —

“Go ahead, darling, I’m right behind you,” he orders, and you practically scream as your orgasm washes over you, as you feel his cock twitch inside you, filling you up. “Fuuuuck,” he rasps, his hands holding onto your hips now as you fall forward onto the table from exhaustion, letting the cold surface cool your skin. 

Moments later, Rhys collapses on top of you, holding himself up by his forearms, caging you in between them. He’s still inside you as he trails soft kisses from one shoulder blade to the other.

I love you , he sends down the bond, still catching his breath.

A tired smile creeps onto your lips. I love you, too.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

we’ve already talked about the more blatant forms of ableism concerning entrapta, like the way the princesses treated her, but another thing i want to mention is how the narrative around entrapta is also a bit ableist. namely, i want to talk about the way entrapta’s reasons behind being a morally grey character.

entrapta is morally ambiguous, that’s pretty obvious and i have no complaints about it. i do like morally grey and complex characters. however, what rubs me the wrong way is the fact that entrapta’s moral greyness is a direct product of her autism, according to the narrative. she doesn’t join the horde just because catra manipulates her, she also does it because.. the horde has cool tech stuff and gadgets. basically, entrapta is okay with endangering thousands of innocent civilians, if it means that she gets to play with fun gadgets. she says it herself, that she’s “on the side of science”.

now as an autistic person myself, i get that neurodivergent people can be quite passionate and sometimes singleminded about their hyperfixations. but never to this point. if i was offered a job that involves my hyperfixation, but that job was corrupt or directly hurt other people, i wouldn’t accept it. same goes for most neurodivergent people that i know. especially for those who are more on the high-functioning side of the spectrum, like entrapta. we know how to differentiate good from bad. we use our critical thinking skills.

i saw a few spop critics say that they don’t blame entrapta for joining the horde, because the princesses treated her like shit. and i have to partially disagree with this take. yes, entrapta had all the right to be mad at the princesses. but the horde wasn’t just targeting the princesses. war isn’t, and has never been, a heroes vs villains conflict. if anything, the princesses are the ones who are least affected by the war. entrapta should at least have had a moment of epiphany where she realizes how terrible the horde truly is and the harm she has helped it to cause. but no, even though she gets “punished” (i.e. mistreated) in s5, it doesn’t really drive forward a good message. the princesses are only mad at entrapta because they feel personally betrayed by her, not because her actions were wrong on a larger level.

i guess it’s no surprise coming from the show that treats the war like a silly game, but i still resent the fact that the creators basically imply that autistic people are stupid and don’t have a moral compass. also if i’m not mistaken, i believe someone in the crew made a really distasteful joke about entrapta being a tr*mp supporter because “she doesn’t know any better”. again, all of this boils down to ableism and the trend of infantilizing neurodivergent people.

[kdinjenzen]

On the whole SE thing, I have a question because I agree with you fully about the AI crap, but I have been full hyperfixation excited for Rebirth, which is saying a lot because life has been soul sucking shit and mustering enthusiasm for anything has been an uphill battle. Where is the line for supporting a cause you firmly believe in, and self indulgence that contradicts that for the sake of personal pleasure? It feels like I either stick to the fight and let something positive to me go or ignore it for myself, which just feels selfish and wrong. This has been eating at me since that news dropped and I don't know if there is a right answer or if any of this even makes sense outside of my own mad rambling. Any input?

13,000+ people were laid off just within the video game industry last year. All the big corps who did those layoffs said “no, Ai won’t replace anyone” and then announced heavy dealings with Ai generated writing, art, animation, etc.

Over 13,000 people… and that’s just in video games.

That’s not counting other branches of the entertainment industry which have also said “no, Ai won’t replace anyone” and then also announced they’d be dipping into Ai generated writing, art, animation, etc after doing massive layoffs.

And if you’re thinking “Ai isn’t that far along” - Disney used Ai generated content for the intro to one of its Marvel Disney+ series last year, SE already has Ai artwork in their games and in their promotional materials, and Valve now allows generative Ai (artwork, animations, assets, voices, etc) developed games on their platform.

The only thing businesses, corporations, CEOs/Owners, etc understand is money. If you talk big talk on social media and can’t back that talk up by not buying a thing, they’ll just use the money you gave them to prove you wrong.

The generative Ai companies have already shown their whole ass by having massive lists leaked of artists, animators, voice actors, musicians, etc that they’ve stolen from. You can’t even pretend “well maybe it’s actually ethical and they asked permission” when there are lawsuits from artists of all kinds, bug and small, trying to take these generative Ai companies down for outright stealing their work to train their Ai program.

There’s a whole world of games, movies, books, etc out there to enjoy that don’t steal people’s works and cut people’s jobs to make “quick and easy content for cheap” - find something different to enjoy.

But, quite frankly, anytime I speak my piece about ethical treatment of workers I’m either ignored or harassed so it honestly feels like it doesn’t matter what I say despite dealing with shit like this from multiple sides of the industry and from people for 17 years.

So you do what you wanna do, you’re a whole person yourself and can make your own choices and draw your own line in the sand.

However, not only was I one of those affected TWICE by layoffs because of this, but countless of my friends and colleagues were also let go in favor of building cheaper things with Ai.

[rootsofdread]

Autism be damned my brain can hyperfixate anyway wowowo requests >:D

Could i get reader who (before they were taken by the entity) was a professional tag player and can hide on the cellings and parkour really well? With Leon, Ghostface, Trickster romantic and platonic Legion (Any/All how you prefer)

ALSO look up professional tag on yt cuz MY LORD THEY'RE FAST AND GOOD

did actually watch a little bit and i was amazed, honestly love parkour sm and am sad it fell out of style. anyone who says parkour isn't cool is LYING

Leon S. Kennedy:

Leon feels confident having you by his side. Sure, he’s known for his cockiness, but he feels it’s warranted this time — a professional tagger could run a killer around for hours while he and the others work on generators. It’s perfect! And besides, if you end up getting caught, he always has a surplus of flashbangs ready to run and save you because you’ve bought him so much time to make them.

He gets a kick out of watching your loops from a distance, seeing you almost instantly lose a killer thanks to your prior experience. Seeing them confusedly look around for you until they decide to leave always makes his day, honestly. 

Until you decide to loop him, too, when the two of you are just running around. He laughs harder than you’ve ever heard him laugh when he realizes you’re now on top of something, or up in the ceiling.

You make trials much more tolerable for him by making him laugh with your antics, plus he appreciates your almost supernatural ability to buy him (and the other survivors) time. You aggravate the living hell out of the killers and he loves that, there's no one else he'd be more proud to call his.

Danny Johnson / The Ghostface:

Danny is endlessly amused by your shenanigans. He usually hates variables and unpredictability, but he's always been charmed by your variation and unpredictability. It makes things more exciting, more fun.

You always manage to run him around for a few generators, where he's usually aware enough to know when to leave someone alone. He just gets so caught up trying to catch you and having fun doing it, he almost forgets there's more survivors to go after. 

He tries to match your skills during chases, he's not too bad at parkouring himself. He can nearly keep up with you most of the time, narrowly missing you with his knife. It just motivates him more.

After he realizes a few generators have been completed, he then realizes he should leave you alone so he can get some work done. He'll stop and get your attention, leaving you with a cute little wave and his signature 'call me' gesture.

Ji-Woon Hak / The Trickster:

Ji-Woon is exhilarated having someone fun to chase around. Someone who he sees as a performer like himself — someone who takes pride in their talents. He loves that about you, your confidence and your talent.

You're wonderful target practice for him the way you bob and weave and jump and duck, you're nearly impossible to hit. But he tries, he's always trying to nail you and get better. When he manages to hit you, you'll hear his maniacal little giggle. You know he’s having fun.

Like Danny, Ji-Woon is pretty good at matching your movements, he’s quite acrobatic himself (probably even more so than Danny). He enjoys leaping and running around with you, chasing you all over trialgrounds, all while trying to land some knives in you.

He doesn't even particularly care if he loses matches to you, if it meant you were both having fun and honing your abilities. Practice makes perfect, after all, for him and for you, and he wouldn't want anything less than perfection.

Frank Morrison / The Legion:

Frank mostly finds it comical. He especially loves hearing you tell him about other killers you ran around and tricked into losing you, he’ll usually bring it up to them later to poke fun at them. You’re his best friend and even if you’re more modest about your talents, he’ll boast about them for you. Well, maybe boast isn’t quite the right word…Brag, more like.

He’s often astonished by your ability to completely lose him. He’ll spend a few seconds looking around for you, ducking around walls he was sure he last saw you between. Then he hears you laughing above him…High up on the dilapidated wall, curled over the edge like a cat. He cracks up.

You’re one of the few people who can outrun or simply outlast his Frenzy, and that amazes him. It’s a feat he feels he has to congratulate you on at least a few times when it happens, during a trial he’ll just give you a quick nod to acknowledge your accomplishment. But afterwards, he’ll give you a slap on the back and tell you that was great. He really has fun with you.

He loves seeing the reactions from other survivors when they witness your professional skills being put to use in the realm. Meg is the most athletic of any of them, but they’ve never seen her pull stunts like you do. Sometimes he’ll quietly watch their amazement, then when they finally realize he’s standing there, give kind of a nod in your direction, signifying he knows you and he’s proud of you.

Susie Lavoie / The Legion:

Susie finds it the most fun out of everyone, really getting a giggle (more than just one, actually) out of your antics. She loves seeing you dart and jump around like crazy to outrun her, you can hear her maniacally giggling the entire time she’s chasing you. At some points, she’s laughing too much and has to take a break. But she knows you’re hiding nearby, just out of her sight, waiting for her to kick back into gear.

Sometimes she’ll get you in a chase just to see what crazy tricks you have up your sleeve. She’ll even steer you to specific areas of realms to see what you’ll do there, how you’ll use the environment to your advantage. It’s amazing to her how you can use just about anything to dodge the swings of her knife.

She absolutely asks you to teach her some moves outside of trials. She wants to use them to impress and distract other survivors during chases, and use them to cut chase time and get to them faster. She knows you’ll be a great teacher for her, and she gets so excited to try doing some stunts of her own during trials.

If you hide up in the ceiling or on top of something tall when you’re getting chased by her, she’ll actually stop and offer you help down. She knows you can do it yourself, but you’re her friend. She holds her hand out to you and stands on her tiptoes so you can actually grab it and she can pull you down.

[stay-mon-army]

Anything For You, Darling

Word Count: 3,410 words

Warnings: depression, anxiety

Pairing: OPLA!Sanji x reader

Note: This is completely self-indulgent but I hope that other people will enjoy this like I enjoyed making it. Also, I am OBSESSED with OPLA so please please interact, give me ideas/requests, suggest me fics, anything. I've found a new hyperfixation with this (specifically Sanji and Zoro) so this might be something I write a lot rn!

Living life on the Going Merry was a content existence to say the least. You didn’t often have to worry about being bored; something was always happening to keep you entertained. You rarely had to worry about food; Sanji was never far away with a new dish he wanted someone to try (you just had to get there before Luffy). You didn’t have to worry about if you were even going in the right direction; somehow Nami knew exactly where to go based on those very confusing scraps of paper she calls maps.

Life was arguably great. You couldn’t ask for more. But no matter how good life was, how many times your stomach hurt from laughing along with the crew, how many times you smiled at the happy family you had collected for yourself, something always felt a little off. You weren’t unhappy, you just felt… disquieted in your bones? Sometimes you felt as pessimistic as Usopp when you thought about your feelings. You couldn’t ever just feel good without something in your brain interrupting and whispering sad thoughts into your mind.

That’s why you liked spending so much time with Sanji – he doesn’t let you stay in your mind for very long. He isn’t quite as chatty as Luffy, who never seems to stop talking if someone is within earshot, but he keeps a good conversation and you can’t lie, the compliments and the food are pretty hard to beat.

You often spent your free hours curled up on a bar stool in the kitchen, watching Sanji chop up vegetables and prepare whatever the next meal is while you talk about everything and nothing at the same time. Even when the conversation lulls and you settle into silence with the chef, you never get that disquieting feeling like you do when you’re alone. Just listening to the bubbling of a boiling pot of water or the soft whish of the knife against the cutting board is enough to sooth your rushing thoughts into a calm river that passes you by.

You enjoyed the playful bantering and flirting with Sanji, the way he sometimes lets you sneak a taste of whatever he’s cooking before it’s completely done, the way you can just enjoy the swaying of the ship and the scents permeating the air.

However, unbeknownst to you, some of the straw hats noticed your connection with the blond chef. One morning, as you stepped from your room and stretched under the beating sun shining onto the deck, Nami slides over, standing beside you with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Good morning, Nami! How did you sleep?” You smile, stretching out the tiredness from your arms. She smiles back at you, beginning to wander slowly to the railing away from the others milling about on the deck.

“Good, thank you. I wanted to talk to you for a minute, if you don’t mind.” She nods her head towards the rail and you follow along, intrigued by the lilt in her tone.

“Of course, what’s up?” You sidle over beside her, leaning against the rail and closing your eyes against the spray that tickles the skin on your nose and cheeks.

She rests her elbows beside yours and looks over at you, her orange hair blowing behind her with the wind.

“I’ve noticed you spend a lot of time with Sanji. What’s going on there?” You furrow your brows, not sure you’re understanding what she’s insinuating.

“We’re really good friends. I like spending time with him. It’s better than being alone, or dealing with Luffy’s rants.” You joke, chuckling to yourself. You love your captain but sometimes he really was a chatter box.

Nami doesn’t seem to accept your dismissal of her question, turning to face you, one arm leaning against the rail while her other hand comes to lay against her jean-clad hip. “Come on, the way you two are always flirting with each other? You know, he’s stopped flirting with me since you’ve started spending so much time in the kitchen. Don’t get me wrong, the pet names never stop, but he hasn’t been so… forward. Not that I’m complaining, it’s about time he got the hint.” She smirks at you as she says this, as though you’re supposed to know what that all means.

“I’m not sure what that has to do with me. I like to joke around with him too; that’s all it is. Jokes. I mean, no way there’s anything actually there, he flirts with everyone. I mean, he still flirts with the women in towns when we dock. That’s just how he is.” Nami doesn’t look convinced but you shrug her off. “Listen, Nami, I just like spending time with him. If something were to happen, that would be between Sanji and I. For now, I would appreciate you taking me for my word. We’re friends, he makes me feel safe, there doesn’t have to be anything else out of it.”

She puts her hands up, smiling at you sadly. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I would just make sure he was aware of that, if I were you. You wouldn’t want to lead him on and hurt his feelings.”

With that, she waved and wandered off towards the map room. You sink against the railing, closing your eyes against the sinking feeling filling your gut again. Were you being too nice to Sanji? Nami said he wasn’t flirting with her as often; was it really because of you? You didn’t think that you were giving him the wrong idea; you never crossed any lines, as far as you could tell. Sure, Sanji was clingy – he liked hugs and touching your hands and arms, he would sometimes feed you little scraps of food like fruit as he’s working, you both often flirted with each other, you both called each other pet names, and you always sit next to him at dinner.

But were those necessarily bad things? Was Sanji thinking it meant something more? You thought you both understood you were friends.

Did you want more?

The thought stopped you in your tracks, your eyes snapping open as you stared into the ocean.

No, of course not. You were just friends, that’s all it was. He was nice to you, you got along so well and you didn’t want the relationship to change in any way – you had no intention of turning this into anything more. At least for now…

You run a hand over your face, groaning softly to yourself. You shouldn’t let what Nami said bother you so much. You shake your body out one last time, hoping to rid yourself of both the tightness from your rest and the stress of what Nami mentioned.

You continue with your morning routine, going to the bathroom to relieve yourself and freshen up a little before heading towards the kitchen. Nothing was going to stop you from seeing your favorite blond.

You step through the door and are instantly met with the sweet scent of maple and berries. Sanji turns towards the door when he hears its resounding squeak, a smile instantly lighting up his face as he spots you.

“Good morning, darling! I hope you slept well. I made pancakes for breakfast today, with an assortment of fruit.” He gently pushes forwards a plate, decorated beautifully with an array of colors from the fruits topping the cakes.

“Thank you, Ji. You always know exactly what to cook to make the day a little better.” You smile, sliding into your respective seat. You pull the plate closer to you, lifting the fork and knife he has set out before you. Just as you raise the fork to begin eating, you notice that Sanji is staring at you.

You pause, looking up at the man with a raised eyebrow. He always liked hearing whether you enjoyed the newest dish (he really really loved praise) but he had never been so brazen about watching you eat before. “Can I help you, sweetie?” You ask, smiling at the way his face seems to melt at the pet name, nearly turning him to jelly before your very eyes. He really was just a big softie, at the end of the day.

“You just seem off this morning, my love. I wanted to make sure you were alright. I apologize if I’ve caused any offense.” He says, wiping his hands on a towel before tossing it over his shoulder.

“I seem off?” You chuckle awkwardly, hoping that you don’t radiate the problems running through your head. You didn’t want to worry him – he was always so kind and good to you, the last thing you wanted was to mar him with the darkness in your brain that you spent so much time around him to avoid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I simply mean that you seem a little more subdued is all. Again, I meant no offense. I just hope your meal will cheer you up from whatever is dampening my sweet (y/n)’s demeanor this morning.” He turns away as he says this, as though it doesn’t really matter either way what happens with you, but you know that’s just how he “keeps his cool”.

Sanji’s entire existence wraps around his ability to put on an air of confidence and poise, as though nothing can truly touch him or hurt him, when you are well aware that he feels much more deeply than he lets on. You don’t think that any of the other straw hats noticed this about the chef, but after spending so much time with him, you knew that he simply wore his heart on his rolled up sleeve – there, but only if you have the attention and the compassion to look that close.

You don’t respond, simply beginning to dig into the food placed before you. Unsurprisingly, it’s everything you could have asked for, and more. Somehow, in record time, Sanji seemed to memorize your palate, knowing exactly what things you liked, what you disliked, what you couldn’t stomach to eat, what ratios of flavors brought you the most joy. You didn’t think he paid that much attention, since he was always working while you talked and he never watched you eat, but without a doubt, Sanji knew exactly what you needed at any moment to satisfy your cravings.

You hum as you eat, vocalizing your enjoyment so that Sanji knows he did well, despite the fact he hasn’t turned back to look at you. When you finally finish your meal, you rise from the bar, collecting your dishes and heading to the sink to wash. You had the unspoken job of cleaning the dishes after Sanji. He hated that you did it, claiming that he could totally clean up after himself. But you felt bad, spending all your time in the kitchen with him but watching him do all the work. So, you resolved to cleaning the dishes to help out.

You quickly wash your dishes, scrubbing away the sticky, sugary mess that the syrup and fruits made on the plate. As you turn to grab something to dry the plate off with, you nearly stumble into Sanji’s outstretched hand holding out a dish towel for you. You take it, smiling up at him gratefully. He winks at you before turning back to whatever he was doing at the stove.

You dry off the plate, put it back in its respective spot, and settle yourself back onto your bar stool. As you rest your arms against the counter, putting your chin against your palms, you watch the way that Sanji flits about the kitchen. He seems to be doing a million things at once, from cutting up food for prep to mixing up what looks like some kind of dipping sauce to stirring a boiling broth. You can’t imagine thinking about all of those things at once without burning or ruining something.

Your mind slowly drifts to the way he looks so calm and serene doing it all. His face stays in a gentle smile, as though there isn’t anywhere he would rather be than here. He practically dances around from place to place, light on his toes and seemingly high in spirits. His hands are graceful as he quickly slides the knife to slice whatever ingredient he needs next; his chest rising and falling so slowly, you wonder if he’s breathing. His effortlessness never seizes to amaze you.

“I know I’m fascinating, but I would love to know what has you so enthralled by my movements today, mon cherie. If there’s something wrong, please don’t let it fester. Spill your heart to me, my love.” He leans his arms against the counter, his head tilted to look at you with softened eyes, as though you might run away at any moment. As if you would ever run away from him.

“I don’t know.” You mumble, not wanting to get into it with him, but the way he looks at you, with those seemingly all-knowing eyes, you can’t help but crumble. “Fine, I just- I talked with Nami this morning, and she mentioned some things that got me thinking. Which isn’t always good for me, because sometimes my brain doesn’t like me and it says mean things to me. So I try not to think, which usually being here with you makes it easier, but because of the conversation today, it makes it worse, but I don’t want to not be with you, because I don’t want you to worry and I do like spending time with you, so I didn’t want to change our routine, but the routine is what’s making me think, so now I’m just in this spiral.”

You sigh at the end, flopping against the table so your head rests against your forearms and you don’t have to look at Sanji, who you know is probably looking at you like a lunatic. After a moment, you hear the sound of his shoes scuffing against the floor and you freeze, for fear that he was leaving, like so many other people you had scared away. Instead, the sound grows closer and you soon feel a gentle hand resting against your side, guiding you up from the counter and towards his body.

You turn yourself into the embrace, surprised at how gently he cradles your body against his, one hand resting against your back, the other coming to cup your head against his chest. He holds you as though he expects you to break, and you nearly rip yourself from his grasp at the thought that he must be pitying you. How horribly morbid and depressing you must have sounded, saying how “mean” your thoughts are, as though it wasn’t your own problem to deal with. Telling him was selfish and would surely make him see you completely differently from how he saw you before.

“You know I’m here for you, whatever you need. Whether that be a place to hide out from your thoughts, or a talking companion to wander through those feelings, or simply a nice meal, I’m always here to help you feel better.” He presses his lips against the top of your head and you pull away softly, not wanted to offend him, but needing to say something more.

“That’s another problem.” You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face as the Frenchman furrows his brows at you. “Nami made it seem like I’m leading you on by treating you like this. That spending time with you and flirting with you and all these things are going to make you think something else about me. And I don’t want that to happen. Too many times have I cared for someone, shared my time and joy with that person, felt that we couldn’t be closer or better friends, and then something goes wrong and somehow it’s always my fault. Sometimes, the person starts to like me more than I like them or more than I’m willing to admit and if I don’t continue to act a certain way or give them a certain experience with our relationship or act a certain way, they leave. Or sometimes, people begin to think I act weird or they begin to get annoyed by certain behaviors and then they distance themselves and they leave. Sometimes I’m mean to them because I hold them to a high standard because I love them so I want to have good times with them and that’s stressful and they leave. Sometimes I try to act how I think they want me to act and that makes them leave. Sometimes I’m too clingy and people become afraid I’m too attached and they leave. There’s always something, but in the end everyone leaves. But you…”

You take a deep breath, looking at the way Sanji is silently crying, tears falling from his eyes, but he doesn’t move or say a word, only watching you, waiting for you to spill your heart to him.

“You make me so damn happy. You are kind and gentle and you listen to me and you notice little things before I have to even mention them to you. You seem to know everything I’m thinking before I have to say it, you can read my body language and you’re willing to do anything for me if I ask or even just think it and I’m so so afraid I’ll mess everything up and I’ll lose you too. Because god damn it, if I lose one more person who means so much to me, I might just burst. I might not come back from it all and I really really need you to understand that the way you quiet my brain and make me feel so normal and calm is something I just can’t lose. You are the one person I think can truly understand me and I love you so much for that, but I’m so afraid that any little step will send you pushing me away.”

Sanji shakes his head, reaching his hands out for you again, and you can’t stop him from pulling you into his embrace. His tears fall against the top of your head and you quickly realize you were crying too because your tears soak into his shirt and stick it against your face. You just stay like that for a while, letting him hold you, his lips resting against your head to give small kisses to your scalp.

Finally he releases you enough to pull you back, looking down at you with sad, sweet eyes.

“I will never leave you. Until the ends of the earth, until the sun dies, until you push me away, I will never leave you. I see you, (y/n), I see what you go through, the pain your brain puts you through, the horrible memories I know plague your every waking movement. I can see through it all because I go through it every day. And I know that you see me, just as well. We are open books to each other, my love, and there’s nothing we can do except cherish each other and protect each other. I know what Nami said to you.”

You take a breath, about to explain everything to him, put he shushes you, placing his hand against your cheek.

“You have nothing to explain, sweetheart. I am here for you, however you need me. And I can only hope that I can get a sliver of the same in return. But until you tell me otherwise, I will be your partner through think and thin. I am at your disposal as friend, confidante, chef, anything, as long as you continue to smile and make me smile. Do you understand?”

You sob again, pulling the blond chef against you this time, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him flush against you. You thank him, repeatedly, over and over, like a mantra, until he pulls away to wipe your tears from your face.

“Anything for you, darling. Now, let me finish cooking lunch.” He steps back around to the other side of the counter, sliding you a small plate of crackers you hadn’t noticed before, winking at you, before turning back to the stove.

You nibble happily on one of the salty crackers, resting your elbows against the counter as you watched his back. He truly was the only one who understood you.

[booksanxietyandsports]

Stephan Leyhe/Andreas Wellinger - "Quiet of the night." (fic)

well well well. what do we have here.

right after welle won the first four hills comp in oberstdorf this season i wrote like a thousand words, then completely forgot about it. i just discovered it again and in a lovely case of hyperfixation wrote the rest of it in about an hour, so do with that what you will. better late than never, right?

so as for the timeline, this takes place after andi won the first comp of the 23/24 four hills tournament. for the sake of plot they’re not roommates in this (although we all know they always share, but let’s just pretend they all got single rooms for the tour). even though it’s a rather quick and short one at 2.2k, i hope you guys enjoy it. as always, i’d love to know what you think and appreciate any kind of feedback <3

Knock Knock. 

Stephan turns over in his bed towards the door, sheets tangling with his legs. The room is pitch black when he blinks sleepily, eyes protesting the unscheduled awakening. There’s someone knocking at his door, which isn’t an uncommon occurrence in the team hotel during the tour because someone always wants something, except it’s two at night and they only went to bed like two and a half hours ago. Stephan‘s brain is still muddled with sleep after the adrenaline crash that inevitably always follows a competition, especially one as electrifying as yesterday‘s. So, what on earth-

There‘s a third knock and Stephan squints at the door as someone gently pushes it open, causing a sliver of light from the hallway to spill into the darkness of his room. He can barely make out a silhouette when there‘s a whisper- “Stephan? Are you awake?”

Andreas.

Stephan sits up abruptly, every last trace of sleep gone. “Yeah,” he whispers back, which isn’t true at all given that Andi quite literally just woke him up but he’d rather fling himself off a hill than tell the younger that. It’s not like he minds, anyway, he’s got an open ear for all of his teammates, although maybe it’s a bit different where Andi is concerned. Stephan tries not to think about it.

Andi tiptoes into the room and closes the door behind him. Darkness falls back around them and for a long moment neither of them moves. Stephan looks in Andi’s general direction and waits for him to offer some kind of explanation, to start talking the way he always does without paying any mind to time, company or circumstances. After a full minute goes by without a sound Stephan starts to grow increasingly concerned. “Andi?,” he prompts gently, eyes searching the darkness for any kind of movement. 

“Yeah, uh, sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up, it’s late, we’ve got training today and it’s stupid anyways, I’ll just-“ 

“Don’t you dare open that door, Andreas. It’s the middle of the night, what’s wrong?” Stephan hears Andi shift on his feet followed by the faint click of the door handle being released. The silence returns as the questions hangs between them, unanswered. Despite the odd situation, Stephan smiles quietly to himself.

“Stop biting your lip, Andi. It’s gonna be all raw and red on camera tomorrow.”

He hears Andi sputter over where he’s still standing by the goddamn door. “I’m not! It’s pitch-black in here, Stephan, you can’t even see me! How would you know that?”

Because I spend most of my time watching you. Because I could paint your face in a thousand different ways if I had just an ounce of talent. 

“Because you always bite your lips bloody when something’s bothering you. Now come on over here and tell me what’s wrong, please.” Stephan sits up straighter as he hears Andi shuffle through the room, leaning against the headboard. The mattress dips beneath him as Andi sits down on the edge of the bed next to his stretched-out legs, which isn’t as close as Stephan would like him, but it’s better than the other side of the room.

He figures this is the moment they should turn on the lamp on his bedside table since they still can’t fucking see, but something about Andi’s behaviour stops him. This isn’t like the younger at all; to be so caught up in his thoughts and feelings that it drives him out of bed in the middle of the night. Maybe it’s got something to do with how young Andi was when he started into the whole world cup circus, but Stephan has always admired how good his teammate seemed to be at compartmentalizing. One problem after the other, brain turned off periodically to rest, then switched back on to work out the issues at maximum capacity and all of that with endless optimism and a quick smile. 

So yeah, the more Stephan thinks about it, the more alarming he finds this entire situation. The least he can do is offer Andi the courtesy of keeping the lights off.

Not that it helps much. He can feel the tension in Andi’s body, every muscle coiled as if he’s preparing to make another jump from the hill. Stephan bends his knees a little, tucking them closer to his body in a silent offer for Andi to lean against them. He takes a deep breath and tries to prompt the younger into talking with an easy question.

“Did you sleep at all?”

Andi sighs. “Uh, not really. I think. Kinda been dozing on and off since we all went to bed but…time hasn’t really felt real tonight anyways. That’s so weird don’t you think?”

“What is?” Stephan’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to make out Andi’s face turned in his direction to look at him, eyes way too wide and awake for this time of night.

“This! Me waking you up at this godawful hour just because, what? I won a competition? Been there done that, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. And yet here I am and my body just doesn’t- it doesn’t-“ 

Andi cuts himself off with a frustrated sound, dropping his head into his hands and pulling at his hair. “My brain’s not shutting up, Stephan. It wasn’t like that after Lake Placid last season, right? What’s different now?” He’s desperate for an answer, voice breaking on the last word. 

Stephan’s heart breaks a little, too, because Andi sounds tired. Utterly tired; the kind of exhaustion that creeps up on you after an entire evening of adrenaline and endorphins and riding the high of a victory. He puts a hand on Andi’s shoulder and just leaves it there, applying a bit of pressure to let the younger know he’s here. His heart breaks a bit more when Andi leans into the touch, instinctively chasing the comfort. “What’s different, Stephan?” Andi repeats quietly. “This wasn’t my first win since- since everything, and it’s not like it came out of nowhere. It’s been building up for a while, right? I’ve been doing great so far, I feel good, I-“ He stops for a second before dropping his gaze to the ground. “I think I’m scared.”

There it is. Stephan has started to rub soothing circles into Andi’s shoulder and back while the younger was clearly working something out. If there’s one thing Stephan’s learned in all the years he’s spent with Andi, then it’s that sometimes he just needed to rant. They’re different that way, Stephan supposes. Whereas he himself tends to work things out in the relative peace of his mind, Andi needs to voice his concerns. Contact, feedback, the weight of spoken words in a space to be able to see clearly. And if he needs to do that at two in the morning, then so God help him Stephan will be the one that listens. 

“What are you scared of, love?” Stephan asks softly. Andi scoffs. 

“I don’t know. Messing up? Disappointing everyone? It’s like…it’s like this victory comes with a price tag, you know? With conditions. The last few years nobody expected anything. I was the Olympic champion with the tragic injury, so getting back on track was the only task I had and nobody cared when I messed up. Every good jump was a bonus. But now people keep saying I’m back and then I went ahead and won the first comp of the tournament and now-“ 

“-now everyone expects you to win the rest as well.” 

Andi deflates the second Stephan speaks the words out loud. His head drops forward, messy hair tickling Stephan’s arm. The older carefully moves his hand from Andi’s shoulder to his scalp, gently carding his fingers through the unruly strands. “I don’t know if I can do it,” Andi whispers after a few seconds of silence and lifts his head to look right at Stephan, eyes desperately searching for answers. Stephan holds his gaze.

“Listen, Andi. You don’t owe anyone anything – not the fans, not our coaches, not us. The only thing you owe yourself is to enjoy competitions like yesterday’s since you went so long without them despite always trying your fucking best. What you do is enough, Andreas. Every jump you pour your heart and soul into is enough, no matter where you rank in the end. This victory isn’t worth more than the one in Lake Placid just because it’s got Four Hills written all over it, alright? You could’ve given up long before you ever reached where you’re at today, but you never did. That alone matters more than whatever happens in the next few days. Because I know for a fact that you will fight for every point and if that’s not enough, then that’s not on you. I believe in you and so do the team and the fans and whoever measures your talent and worth by whether you win this damn tournament or not can go fuck right off.”

He inhales sharply after his monologue, which was admittedly longer than he’d planned. Andi stares at him, eyes wide and mouth open. 

“Uh, so” Stephan finishes eloquently. “You know. Don’t worry too much.” He shuts his eyes briefly, cringing at himself internally. Way to ruin this, Stephan. You’re doing fantastic.

He looks back up when Andi snorts and dissolves into quiet laughter. He can feel a smile fighting its way onto his own lips because honestly, no one is immune to the sound of Andi Wellinger’s joy. It’s even sweeter when Stephan’s the reason for it. 

Andi’s voice is breathless when he teases Stephan. “You say all that and end it with ‘don’t worry too much’? Really?”

“Well excuse me,” Stephan retorts, untangling his hand from Andi’s hair to put it on his own chest in mock offense. “I apologise for running out of sensible things to say in the middle of the night. If you’d like to register a complaint, I’m gonna have to ask you to do it at a reasonable hour.”

Andi giggles again, wiping his eyes with his hands. He looks back at Stephan then, tilting his head in such an adorable way that Stephan’s heart skips a beat or three. The silence stretches on for a while, the mood turning serious once more as Stephan practically sees Andi going over his words in his head. 

One of us is gonna have to say something because if it gets any quieter, he’ll hear how loud my heart is beating. 

Yet Stephan doesn’t break the fragile silence. Andi doesn’t, either. Instead, the younger shifts, turning to face Stephan properly with one leg folded under him while the other hangs off the bed, and pulls the older forward into a hug.

Oh.

Stephan wraps his arms around Andi’s waist instinctively because that’s just what his body is wired to do at this point. They’re usually in an outrun when this happens, but right now, as Andi is tightening his arms around Stephan’s shoulders and hiding his face in the older’s neck, Stephan would gladly never see an outrun again if it meant he could stay right here for the rest of his life.

They hug in a way that’s only really acceptable in the tranquility of the night, when the sole witness is the moon and the darkness swallows the thoughts of any consequences a touch like this might have. Time passes and while Stephan doesn’t know if it’s seconds or minutes or hours, he never eases the pressure around Andi’s slim waist. He’s unconsciously started to rub circles into the dip of it with his thumb and he doesn’t stop when he notices. Andi’s breathing is quiet and steady against the side of his neck. Stephan can’t help but smile when the tension finally bleeds out of the younger’s body. 

“Did you mean it?” Andi asks after a while, voice little more than a whisper. “What exactly?” Stephan whispers back just as softly, tucking the other impossibly closer. Andi makes the transition with ease, laying almost entirely on top of Stephan, face still hidden against his shoulder. “Everything. That I owe my victories to no one but myself. That you-,” he clears his throat, a bit awkwardly. “That you believe in me?” 

It comes out like a question and something in Stephan’s chest cracks a little when he hears it. Impulsively, he turns his head to press a soft kiss into Andi’s hair. “Of course I do, love. Never stopped. And I always will, no matter how the tour ends.”

Andi exhales then, a bit shakily but Stephan can feel him settle. He removes one arm from around Stephan to search for Stephan’s hand in the dark and holds on tight when he finds it. Stephan squeezes back, interlacing their fingers. Through it he takes everything Andi gives him; all the doubts and thoughts and uncertainty that overwhelm Andi’s infinite optimism only in the shadows of the night. Stephan knows that when the sun rises in a few hours, it’ll be like the clouds in Andi’s head never existed at all, because that’s just how he works. Stephan wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

Until that happens, he holds on tight to the boy in his arms. 

Andi doesn’t go back to his own room that night. 

[giddlygoat]

bro, your hyperfixation thoughts. hand em over

dave and buck are so special to me and here’s why.

in my now quite elaborate and maybe far removed perception of ttcc that is a melting pot of headcanons, i see dave and buck in a very specific light.

they are both here to waste company time. no way either of them are in agreement with the toon war. the way i think of it goes as follows: buck’s fight, for example, is undeniably just that, a fight. he is trying to beat you. he can’t exactly stand between toons and goons and go “hey fellath why don’t we talk it out?” lol. the fight is inevitable, because if he doesn’t do his job he’d get demoted or fired, which would take away any shred of power he had to begin with and render him effectively useless in doing anything about the war.

so what does he do instead? well, i can’t name another boss who has a chance of dropping items on their own team, much less raining jellybeans on the enemy. maybe that’s because my overall knowledge of ttcc is embarrassingly sparse, but i feel the need to point that out.

buck doesn't take anything seriously. he goofs around, turns the battle into a joke. i can’t tell you how much i laughed in my first fight with him, and that’s before i formed any solid ideas about him. he stands out to me because of that. i think he wants to give toons something to smile about, if they’ve gotta fight. if you can’t join ‘em, be a good sport, right?

and dave. oh man, dave! his beginning cutscene is LITERALLY a bunch of goons offering to punch your daylights out in order to get the fight over with, and what does he do? nah, he offers you onstage, gives you a fair fight. makes it into a show. dave isn’t taking this seriously either. he’s a tough hard hitter, but he didn’t instantly wipe you out for a reason. hell, he even fakes his death in the middle of the battle just for shits and giggles. he’s trying to dazzle, to give everyone a good story.

shall i recount the ending cutscene when you beat dave? it actually blows my mind again every time i see it. he offers congratulations in his defeat, respects a good brawl. he even gives you the rose in what may be the single hottest display of robot whimsy on this planet.

buck and dave both know how uncertain times are. they both understand the role they play in this war, and although they’re just cogs in the machine, they know how to feign some rustiness for the toon’s sake.

now as if all that weren’t enough, what can i possibly say about high roller that i haven’t already said a million times. high roller’s high roller, the game show that clowns on itself, the host that dishes out dizzying fun at the drop of a hat! like, is hr trying to get fired??

nothing about the show says ‘cog etiquette’. the whole event screams rebellion, like some sort of impossible, law-defying piano man. what do toons even stand to accomplish by showing up other than having a good time? the theatre is literally full of all kinds of managers and they do nothing. it was never about defeating anyone, it’s about finding a bit of joy in the worst of times. sure, hr loves to win, but she doesn’t particularly like to see others lose.

once you defeat hr, just like that, show’s over. the audience comprised entirely of enemies stays seated, and the toons skedaddle. i don’t know how one could possibly spin this into something truly competitive.

it fascinates me endlessly and i always have more to say about it but i have other things to do today so i have to tear away from the keyboard lawl.

thanks a million times for letting me ramble anon, it means a lot!

[bigmack2go]

Newsies as Things my friend and me have said bc im shocked i haven’t done this yet

Sarah: THIS!

Sarah: *points at tailor doll*

Sarah: this is the reason i‘m into women!

(Sarah *in a whispered sob*: my hand fits her waist so perfectly….)

Race after getting one single question wrong: if you’re alowed to be dumb, so am i

Albert *shocked*: why is there no crossover of „sing“ and „zootopia??“

Albert: i mean—… NOT EVEN A FANFICTION!

Jack: there are very few names that are acceptable for sausage dogs

Jack *clears throat*….

Jack: NUMBER ONE—

Race:*wakes up david from his much needed afternoon nap*

Race: do u ever mix up the feeling of attraction with the one of jealousy???

Les: so if harry potter is an otter—

Les: and ron weasly is a weasle….

Les: whats hermione??

Albert: anyone else ever wonder how it would go if henry danger went to hogwarts?

Davey (in the middle of a conversation about hotdogs or smt): is there a place where you can give emoji suggestions??

Hotshot: what are you doing?

Autistic!Spot *squatting*: i need to make sure these pants don’t give me over sensory issues

Race: i dont get hyperfixations

Albert: you— you litteraly memorised Hamilton

Race: IT WAS TO KEEP MY BRAIN IN FORM

Katherine: why is it, whenever i find someone hot, they get a haircut???

Albert: SHUT UP YOU LITTLE— YOU LITTLE… i can’t think of an insult but imagine something thats really bad just so you know i am in fact very mad

(Race: woah who would have thought i’d live to see the day albert dasilva isn’t able to think of an insult)

Albert: ok but like… the characterbuilding of pawpatrol is like,,, really fucking good

Albert: like that shit deserves an oscar

Spot: did it hurt when you fell—

Race (litterally from down on the floor): when i fell from heaven?

Spot: no when you-

Race: when i fell for you?

Spot: RACE YOU JUST F E L L OF THE STAIRS

Jack: ah where did i put my crutchie?

Jack: GAYS HAS ABYONE SEEN MY CRUTCHIE?

Jack: damnit why do i keep losing i— ahhh there it is!

Elmer: ask for forgiveness, not permission

Hotsot: *sighs exasperated while watching elmer proceed to pull out a baloon sword with a genuinely evil look on his face*

Jack: you ever notice how you can deescalate literally any situation by [doing smt] as long as the situation is right?

Davey: *blinks* what?

Smalls: soooo i think i may or may not have just accidentally invented backwards stealing

Jack: ugh! Nephew, grandson! Wheres the difference, really??

Jack: i just stepped on my painting

Jack: haha! Look at those cute lil paint pawprints on the floor

Jack:

Jack: wait why do my feet make pawshaped pawprints???

Davey: thats it. Im done. I quit.

Elmer: quit what?

Davey:

Davey: life.

Spot: im trying to work on my anger issues

Albert: you literally just punched somebody

Spot: and it made me less angry

Mrs Kirby: buttons what are you doing here? This isn’t your classroom

Buttons (shamelessly): avoiding my teacher hopefully for another….

Buttons (squinting at the clock):

Buttons (happy as ever): 36 minutes!

Graves: my bf is being homophobic

Hotshot: youre single???

Graves: exactly!!

Davey: i may be antisocial but im still a socialist

Albert: spot, if i dropped dead here and now and race wasn’t there to witness that you didn’t murder me, what would you do with my body?

Spot: bold of u to assume I didn’t murder u

Spot: or need race as a witness

Spot: or—

Albert: OKAY I GET IT

Albert *putting on creme-deodorant*:

Jack: is this hair wax you’re putting under your arms???

Albert:…

Albert: yes.

Albert: it blocks the sweat glands.

Jack: *proceeds to go on about a ten minute speech about how tiktok spreads false information and life hacks*

Race: ow ow ow ow

Spot: what?

Race: i put on the wrong glasses

Spot: race w h a t

Albert: im a left handed green eyed ginger and thats not even the worst part—

Race: there are four types of people.

Race: watch.

Race: *shoves crutchie so he falls*

Jack: *gasps and runs to fight race*

Davey: *gasps and runs to help crutchie*

elmer: *gasps and laughs at crutchie*

Albert: *gasps and laughs at race*

Race: see

Race: *the most satisfied hes beenin his life*

No one:

Absolutely no one:

On this entire planet no one:

smalls *giving b i r t h*: ow ouch ow ah- yeah that does in fact hurt, owowow

[generic-whumperz]

Intro Post & Masterlist(s)

THIS BLOG WILL CONTAIN ADULT CONTENT, VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED! 

Anything explicitly NSFW will be marked “Mature,” but still this isn’t really a kid-friendly space so minors please DNI!

FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY!

Side blogs:

•@generic-whumper (SFW whumping) •@generic-throw-away-blog (random bs & some fandom stuff) •@generic-writing-tips (exactly as it sounds) •@generic-horror-slut (for just straight up horror and gore)

The Aid Masterlist (current WIP, 18+)

Other works can be found at the bottom of this post under “Story Stuff,” but there isn't much else because I'm focusing on The Aid for now.

Congratulations, you have stumbled upon another (generic) whump blog, hence the name! New whumper in town, made this blog Aug 2023, and just started writing. Currently just working on one story right now (yay hyperfixations), that is slowly consuming every waking thought. Help

Other blog info below the cut!

About me:

🔪I prefer to be anonymous on here, so just call me “Generic/Gen,” them/them, mid (quit lying to yourself) late-20’s.

🔪Dyslexic bitch & silly goose—please excuse typos, misspellings, and any grammatical errors! I don’t have an editor or beta reader, so cut me some slack; I re-read and edit as best as I can, but my brain be playin’ tricks on me, and shit falls through the cracks! Just manage your expectations is all I’m sayin’, I’m not a professional.

🔪I’m (unfortunately) an American and my obnoxious word choice will probably reflect that.

🔪I’m currently a full-time college student taking a fucking break! But still, any written works I choose to share will not be uploaded on a set schedule (I write slow, my brain only occasionally works, & I’m busy), I apologize in advance!    

🔪I run a queue- there I said it! I am shameless about it, and nah I won’t tag it.

🔪I’m not a professional writer nor am I going to school for an english degree. I write for funsies and this is mostly just a hobby for now.

🔪Lover of cryptids (Mothman fucks), paranormal enthusiast and certified Haunted™️. Weird shit WILL leak into my writing eventually. Don’t be surprised if a ghost or skin walker makes a cameo. It’s more fun this way, just go with the flow.

What You’ll See Here: 

All types of Whump; I’m talking all of it bay-bee (detailed types below this section), including: polls, writings, prompts, tropes, scenarios, art, gifs, etc.

Reblogs-a-plenty

Really bad home grown memes 

Whumpy rambling coming straight from my delirious brain

My own sub-par short stories, ficlits, and maybe even an eventual series or two

My own mediocre art (eventually)

Whump I fuck with (like a said, pretty much all of it!):

All gender & POC whump (including lady whump, lady whumpers, mixed gendered Whumpee & Whumper combos, etc. Errybody getting whumped ‘round here.)

APOCALYPSE

Hurt/comfort

Hurt/no comfort

No hurt/comfort

Physical, emotional, and mental (if there’s all three it’s a magical trifecta of hurt)

Sickfics (I HATE being sick so I get it)

Medical (totally have iatrophobia—I’m a wuss who’s terrified of doctors and hospitals—so once again, I gettt ittt)

Lab (this is like medical, but worse)

Pet (including WRU, BBU, etc.)

Dehumanization

Captivity (short & long term)

Multiple Whumpees, multiple Whumpers

All types of Whumpees, give me stoic, give me angsty, defiant, broken, cursed, conditioned, big, small, ALL OF IT

All types of Whumpers, but especially those creepy and intimate ones that make you want to rip your own skin off (look, I’m here actively seeking out to have a bad time—bad time=good time)

Caretakers in any and all form, my favorites are platonic or found-family caretakers, but if Whumpee just so happens to find their new boo-thang, love that for them just the same.

Recovery and caretaking

Gore and body horror

TORTURE

Chains, restrains, collars, rope—just tie that B down!

Fantasy, sci-fi, paranormal, supernatural, magic

Historical, present, future

Non-human (and human)

Cannibalism

Explicit stuff like non-con, dub-con, forced drugging, etc. I will always add TW’s and tags to my posts containing hardcore stuff and it will be marked ‘mature’!

 

Whump I refuse to Touch with a 10-foot pole:

Anything explicit with minors

Furries (sorry, I just fucking CAN’T)

Other Story Stuff & Random Things:

Subject X: BB217 Intro

[rupertsfangirl]

Motorcyclist in my car Oct 25th

Summary: A semi-journal type text about a sexual encounter with a masked biker. 

Tags & Warnings: Smut, alcohol use, drunk reader (sorta), outdoor sex, mask fetish. Think I missed a tag or warning? Please let me know!

Word count: 1.3k Pairing: Masked man x Fem!Reader

A/N: I think I wanna turn this into a mini series but idk. The journal aspect of it is a bit lost sometimes but I still think what I wanted is in there. Please enjoy :> Also I know I've been gone awhile I was kind of taking a break from writing and stuff to be a consumer for a while (reading fanfictions on my new hyperfixation).

To start I was pretty drunk and on what one might consider a vacation, but this had been on my bucket list for a while. I guess that last shot sealed the deal and gave me enough, I wanna say confidence but that doesn't seem right. It was wrong and I knew it but that's what made it so exciting. I remember looking up into the reflective visor on the unknown man's biker helmet. His identity, forever a mystery which honestly turns me on now thinking about it. I’m thinking of doing something like this again. The thrill of not knowing was a feeling I’d only fantasized about before. Maybe I’ll write a little series of my endeavors, and I’ll be detailed so don’t worry. Now, I’ll get to what happened. 

The bar's lights were really starting to annoy me which is why I walked out and bumped into him in the first place. My face planted straight into his chest, it was firm. I quickly apologized to him but he stayed silent and just kind of looked at me. I imagine he may have been falling in love at that moment, that's what my big ego says anyway. He gave me a nod of forgiveness and walked inside. As he moved past me I looked him up and down, nothing crazy, some black sweats and a green hoodie but he seemed fit underneath the concealing clothing. I took a seat outside close to where his bike was. I was kind of hoping to catch him leaving, our small interaction piqued my interest; I could only hope it piqued his too. I sat for what felt like ages but I must have fallen asleep because I was woken up to the helmeted man crouched next to me shaking my shoulder. I could hear the sounds of a muffled hey underneath the helmet. I groggily lifted my head from my knees and tried to wipe the bit of drool on my lower lip. 

“Y’know you oughta be more careful where you sleep.” His voice remained muffled. 

“Huh?” I could hear him chuckle, it sounded warm and gentle, a real suave laugh. I thought it was odd he hadn’t taken off the helmet but it only made me more interested. 

“I said you should be more careful where you sleep.” I nodded at him, closing my eyes from the remaining tiredness. He seemed to be rolling his eyes under the visor, “Do you have a friend here or a car? Don’t drive but at least you can sleep in a safer place.” 

“Yea that blue one there.” I pointed towards my car.

“Alright let's go then,” he pulled my arm over his shoulder and started walking me toward the car. 

“Hey, wait I don’t want you to just disappear after this.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Well talk to me, let me learn a little about you.” At this point we had reached my car and I was leaning on the driver door with him next to me. I felt quite sobered up but in actuality I was still quite out of it. 

“Fine, you’ve intrigued me. Oh hold on lemme take this-”

“NO!” I quickly slapped his hand away from his helmet. He was so surprised he had stepped back a bit and I can only assume he looked either confused or shocked, probably both. 

“What was that for? No?”

“K-keep the helmet on.”

“What, why, you can’t really hear me well can you?”

“Well it adds to your mystery, and my hearing is stronger than most.” It isn’t but he didn’t need to know that besides I could hear him well enough. 

We talked for a while, we laughed and all that good connection stuff, then he asked again about the helmet thing and why I didn’t want him to take it off. I told him the real reason: It turned me on, it was super hot, he seemed both proud and curious. 

I suppose we just spoke all the right words to each other to get into one another's pants. 

But one thing led to another and we were inside the back seat of my car tearing each other's clothes off. He’s pulling off my shirt, my bra then my pants and underwear; while I yank down his pants and boxers. There was no way of getting the hoodie off with the helmet on but I didn’t need all that. He pinched my nipples between his rough fingers while his other hand teased over my clit. Honestly I was surprised he found it. I could tell he was hot from all the panting, I could only assume his helmet was like a small ecosystem. I was moaning like we weren’t in a public space and not the fake ones. These were real, I was excited; I was aroused. His fingers made their way down and into my vagina making my back arch. I kept staring into his visor knowing he could see all of me; my erotic faces reflecting back at me, my nude body. In contrast to him; I didn't know what kind of man was behind that visor, what kind of faces he makes during sex. At this point I was soaking and couldn’t wait, impatiently I beg for him to fuck me already. He obliges and lines up his sizable cock before slowly pushing inside. A gasp slips from my mouth and I hear a faint moan from him. My hands move to grip his back sliding underneath his hoodie. It has a soft muscular feel. He starts to move, his quiet grunts and groans escaping through his helmet. At first his movements were a bit awkward but eventually we got into a good 

pace. He had surprisingly good stamina. He sat up more using his rough hands to grip my hips, thrusting at a new angle making me want to scream. He kept hitting my sensitive part as my moans grew louder, suddenly my hand was pushing against his lower abdomen. 

“I think, I hear someone.” His hips slowly came to a halt and I began listening more intently hearing some faint laughing outside, it didn't sound that close so maybe I was just being paranoid. He probably couldn’t hear that well so I was on a higher alert.

Tilting his head and asking, “But, isn’t that part of the fun?” He used his hand to pull my chin to look back at him, before covering my mouth and continuing to move. Definitely one of the top five hottest moments I've had with someone, probably even top 3. I was starting to get close from his thrusting and my fingers relentlessly on my clit. The throbbing and twitching of his dick inside me let me know he was also close. He slid his hand off of my mouth and placed both hands back on my hips, quickening his pace. Our body heat filled the car, steamy windows, moans and grunts, inching ever closer to that sweet release. He kept hitting a spot that made me feel like a glass about to spill over, I could see my face in his visor as I got closer to climax, I had never felt as beautiful as I felt in that moment. Then it all poured out, I felt a wave of pleasure wash over me, he came just moments before myself. He stayed inside but the condom caught it all (I had one in my glove box). He pulled out and we stayed breathing heavily for a while just looking at each other; I assumed he was looking at me but his eyes could have been wandering my body for all I know. 

We tied off the condom, got cleaned, and got dressed. Then we went our separate ways, I walked with him to his bike before watching him disappear into the distance on the road. Overall a steamy encounter, one I’ll never forget. But he may have competition soon, Halloweens coming up and there will be plenty of masked fish to choose from. 

[comethead]

Devotion (part 1)

MDNI // smut // Gabriel (ULTRAKILL) x Reader

(gender neutral reader, worship, probably blasphemy, creampies, penetrative sex, cowgirl position, no use of y/n)

Ao3 Link // Part 2

Softness is what you first feel when you wake up. Pillows and a thick duvet cushion you as you stir, eyes opening to be greeted with warm sunlight. Your mind feels foggy, you can’t quite remember what you were doing before you came to be in this place. 

“Hello.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden voice. You’re alert now, looking around for the source of the sound.

“My apologies. I did not mean to alarm you.” 

You realize the voice is coming from behind you, and when you turn, you nearly cry out in surprise. However, the angel before you has rendered you speechless instead, his grand form stunning you into an awed silence. He looms over you, cocking his head slightly as you realize he is waiting for you to answer. 

“I- uhh- hello,” you stutter, unsure of what to say. 

“I understand I have an…effect on mortals. Take your time.” You can’t be sure, but he sounds slightly amused at your wonder. You can’t help but stare at his polished silver white armor, the gold trim glinting in the sunlight. He was much taller than you, right now as you’re sitting up in the bed your head just barely reached under his chest. Your eyes trailed down onto the golden belt and- crap, you’re totally eyeing him like a piece of meat. You really hope it doesn’t come off that way as you look back up at the helmeted head of this angel, who you assume is staring at you. “Um. Hello. Where am I?” you ask, glancing nervously around, trying really hard not to look anywhere below his neck. 

“Tell me, do you know who I am?” the angel asked, completely ignoring your question. You squint up at him, taking in the cross on the helm along with the golden half-halo on his head. Shaking your head, you hope he doesn’t take offense to your ignorance. To your surprise, he leans down and grasps your chin between his thumb and index. “Why, little lamb, it is I, Gabriel, Archangel and Righteous Hand of the Father,” he says, a smile evident in his voice. “Perhaps my form isn’t quite as accurate as how I am portrayed in the mortal realm, but oh your devotion remains the same, no?” You open your mouth to speak, but once again you find yourself soundless. Oh god. He knows about your embarrassing crush and hyperfixation on him. You’re not even Christian. You just think he’s hot. Is that a sin? Are you going to get sent to hell for this? Is he here to punish you? Your mind is reeling with anxious questions and fears until he clears his throat. “Fear not, I’m only here to grant you an extension to your worship of me.” 

You blink. “S-sorry?” you stammer shifting off your legs and scooting back from Gabriel. “Don’t be, I find your admiration of me quite enamoring,” he replies, putting a knee down on the bed. What is happening? 

“Little lamb, I’ll let you worship me-,” he’s on the bed now with you, reaching out to cup your cheek in his gloved hand, “-so go ahead-,” his hand is trailing down your body, “-prove to me-”, it rests right on your thigh and you gasp when he squeezes, “-your devotion.” 

“O-oh! Oh..”you manage to say, strongly aware of the pressure near your crotch as you stare back at the archangel. This must be a dream. It feels like a dream come true. If this is a test you’re failing it with a capital F because you are fully ready to give all of yourself up to him. “Yes,” you surprise yourself with your answer, “I’ll do my best.” Gabriel hums in happy agreement, and begins to strip off his heavy armor. One by one they land soundlessly on the floor until there’s nothing but his bodysuit and the strip of fabric covering his crotch. You’re also hyper aware you’re in nothing but a loose chiton-like garment, but you feel too shy to strip in front of the angel. Staring at his body now, you take in his physique. Those arms could probably put you in a nice chokehold, the thought of that sending arousal straight down to your tummy. You decide to be brave and reach out to touch him on the biceps, running your hands down his arm as you scoot to be sitting in his lap. He lets you explore his body with your hands, feeling the hard muscles of his abs as you trail lower and lower. Your hand rests on his erect length, and you look up at him before asking, “Is this okay?”. He nods wordlessly, placing his hands on your thighs as you stroke his cock slowly. It’s quite girthy, and you feel it twitch in your hand when you rub his tip, wet with precum. Gabriel is panting now, grip on your thighs tightening as you jerk him off. Encouraged by his arousal, you pepper kisses down his neck and to his chest. He seems to really like it, you think to yourself, as he lets out a breathy moan. You find yourself getting turned on, feeling those familiar butterflies in your stomach. “Mm, c’mon little lamb, I know you want more,” he grunts, bucking his hips slightly. You flush at his words, hoping that he hasn’t been reading your mind or anything these past moments. If so, he’d probably send you straight down to hell given your sinful thoughts of him pinning you down and fucking you, one arm holding you in a chokehold while the other holds you steady as he rails you. Your fantasy has your head spinning, and you decide you need him in you before your brain turns to mush. Moving your chiton aside, you adjust yourself so you’re straddling Gabriel, his dick rubbing against your entrance as you move around. His grip is bruising now, it seems he’s eager to have you around him. He leans back on the bed, watching you spit on your hand and lube yourself up for his penetration. Straightening up, you line yourself up with his cock and press down, slowly feeling him fill you up as you clench around his length. Gabriel exhales shakily, and you swear you can almost hear a whine in it as he bucks his hips up into you. “Go on my little lamb, ngh- devote yourself to m-me,” he grunts, and the way his self-restraint is slipping has you reeling. You begin to ride him, hands resting on his stomach as you roll your hips back onto his girth. You moan, feeling his tip press that sweet spot in you that has you grasping at him. He catches your hands in his and intertwines your fingers. “Worship me, and you will be mine,” the angel breathes, squeezing your hands. You nod fervently, practically humping him as you ride him with a renewed vigor. “O-oh, Gabriel, I- I’m yours, all yours,” you moan, feeling tears prick the corner of your eye with how aroused you are. You squeak in surprise as he thrusts up into you, his self-restraint all but gone. The two of you reach a steady rhythm of him thrusting while you continue to rock back onto his length. He pounds into you as you pant and blabber nonsense, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You cry out, feeling your impending orgasm build in your stomach, tears rolling down your cheeks from the stimulation. His pace quickens, groaning and pressing his dick as deep into you as he can when you finally cum, feeling your legs go weak as you ride out your climax. Gabriel’s hips stutter as he cums, you moaning softly as you feel the warmth inside of you.

[edwinspaynes]

My reasons for not liking tessa and will but tessa and jem. I only went through the last hours and the dark artifices. This is partly so I wont spend forever writing this out and partly because I have no idea where to find the short stories that feature will and tessa though I know its at least one. i really like jessa in the short stories so i would have liked to include those.

I should probably first disclaim that in tlh I don’t like how shadowhuntery and not warlocky tessa is. I think its because ive become so used to warlock tessa seeing her not be a warlock is strange, it makes sense in tid and in a way it does make sense in tlh as well but it doesn’t sit right with me. I did my best to make sure this doesn’t impact the comparisons but I thought to let you know for fairness sake.

 I feel like in tlh when tessa and will are together tessa sort of becomes secondary to will or like an extension of him like he will be the main one talking and she will only either just agree with him or come with small comments. That’s also what I mean by muted that’s she’s not really her own character with him but an accessory to his. Meanwhile with jem I feel like she is separate to him, she talks for herself and isn’t only there to prop him up. And also more generally I think the jem and tessa dynamic is more fun than the will and tessa one, like I have a better time reading jessa than wessa. I hope you think this wasn’t too aggressive and I want you to know that I don’t hate will and wessa either, they are quite nice its just I have some problems with them and prefer jessa way more.  

You didn't come across as aggressive at all! I asked. Needless to say, I strongly disagree with most of this - but I think that we also perhaps like different traits in Tessa as well.

I don't find Tessa to feel like her own character at all around Jem, and I feel like she just becomes a prop to him. It's interesting that we see this so much differently, because I don't see any fun/fire/chemistry in that dynamic. They feel like friends to me, and I find that Tessa (in the modern day especially) just goes along with whatever Jem wants. Conversely, I find that she stands up more to Will, gives him a lot of lip and disagrees with and clashes with him a lot. I can't think of a single instance that she's voiced her opinions/needs to Jem outside of his own, while I can point to a million instances where she's bantered with Will or stood up to him when he was wrong.

I do think this is in part a writing problem. Cassie transparently loves Jem and thinks he can do no wrong, so of course no one is really going to clash with him.

I also really like those "small comments," I think, and I find that to be when Tessa is very much herself. She's so snarky and sassy there, which is one of my favourite traits in her and why I love her so much. To me, those little comments referencing books or giving will lip are such an integral part of building her character, and I'm not sure I would love her so much without them.

I also want to address this, because I think it's a huge reason why we view things a lot differently:

I should probably first disclaim that in tlh I don’t like how shadowhuntery and not warlocky tessa is. I think its because ive become so used to warlock tessa seeing her not be a warlock is strange, it makes sense in tid and in a way it does make sense in tlh as well but it doesn’t sit right with me. I did my best to make sure this doesn’t impact the comparisons but I thought to let you know for fairness sake.

Also for fairness' sake, I don't really read or reread the content with "warlocky Tessa" a lot, because I treat TID and especially TLH as the axis of my TSC experience. This is of course not something everyone does or even should do - TMI is objectively the "main series." But I like how "Shadowhuntery" she is because that's the core of my interests and hyperfixation. But I also feel like it's sort of fair to do this with Tessa in TID (not commenting on TLH here) because that's when we see the most of her. So my Tessa, the one I write/engage with, is that "Shadowhuntery Tessa" - because that's who she is in TLH, and I'm a TLH girlie.

Again, thank you for this. You weren't aggressive at all, and I think the beauty of fandom is in large part how two people can read something and interpret it totally differently. That's why I was curious. I hope I wasn't too aggressive, either. My main takeaway from this is that we like and prioritize different traits in Tessa and that makes us prefer one dynamic over the other.

[neos-schlond-poofa]

Resident Lover: Mario Kart Play Styles

One fun fact about me is one of my longest reoccurring hyperfixations is Mario Kart (specifically Wii). It’s been this way since I was 4. I’m 17 now. So now I’ll use my knowledge from the years on my current main hyperfixation. I think this is what the fandom needs. To know how I, a Mario Kart scholar, would say the Resident Lover cast would play. Also I’m writing this with Mario Kart 8 Deluxe in mind.

Cass - Extremely hardcore. She tries to pick the best stats in game and has done her own little research in time trials. She strictly plays on bikes as one of the princesses. She doesn’t keep up to date with the current online vehicle combos, she strictly uses her own. She finds it to be much more personalized and when she wins with it, it boosts her ego a bit. She always tries to front run; she hates people who bag, and she’s extremely smart about which items she uses. She always has smart steering and auto acceleration off. She has also mastered all the shortcuts.

Dani - Even more hardcore. She doesn’t play about Mario Kart. She knows all the stats and uses combos shared online. She’s pretty similar to Cass, but just better. 90% of the time she beats Cass. Funky Kong main.

Bela - She sucks at this game. She tries to be good, but fails spectacularly. She only plays Rosalina too and takes 10 minutes making her vehicle based on stats, which she doesn’t understand.

Angie - Sober Angie is alright at this game. Just an average gamer. But drunk Angie is insane. She has no strategy. She goes wild. She sometimes just gets last place, but she screws everyone else so much during the race it enrages everybody. If she isn’t getting last place, she’s getting first place. Also only can win if she’s playing Toad or Toadette.

Donna - She’s quite literally just a casual player. She doesn’t like to use items on people she plays with (unless she’s in a really silly mood) and apologizes if she hits them. She’s probably won twice in her life. She falls off almost all the time and only plays Luigi in a car, but specifically the like Kia car they have like the weird realistic one.

Alcina - Only plays if she has had enough wine. Ultimately sucks at it still and thinks it’s just not a good game. But she also doesn’t really like video games in general, so does her opinion matter? She only plays as Pauline.

Miranda - She doesn’t play. Ever. She claims it gives her a migraine. Even if Eva begged, she wouldn’t play it. Maybe the migraine claim is just an excuse so the others won’t find out she literally sucks.

MC - Has the most fun playing Mario Kart. Truly doesn’t care about placement and always bags in races. They love getting all the speed items and sets up custom lobbies that only has those available. Yoshi is their favorite and will only play as Yoshi. Forgets a lot about stats and sticks to visuals instead.

Heisenberg - Plays once in a blue moon. Somehow always wins. Usually picks Bowser, but doesn’t have a specific main.

Mia - Never wins. Does not have a consistent play style at all. Only plays as Dry Bones.

if parts of this makes no sense, i barelt slept last night and am so disoriented from my tiredness i can’t register what i type. but i know i’m right.

[butchbarbieagainstterfs]

it's so funny how terfs whine and scream and bitch and moan about trans/queer people in fandoms as if 70% of the most fandoms aren't inherently trans and queer. the "talented girlies" in question are 90% trans people, nonbinary people, lesbians and gays and bisexuals. sorry that your ugly terf ass can only create an image of a poorly drawn pussy and call it "pinnacle of modern art" while trans men are out here drawing the next mona lisa and having fun with their fictional blorbos. maybe if you directed even a small amount of the energy you use to harass and hate queer people and turned it into a productive hobby you wouldn't be such a miserable hateful piece of shit? 💀 just saying. just because you label yourself "feminist" and "hashtag misandrist and tranny hater" doesn't mean you don't sound exactly like right wing dudebros who have a meltdown about a woman protagonist in their fave viddy game. terfs are so pathetic lol.

if fandom spaces bother you so much then fucking leave. don't interact. you'll be doing all of us a huge favor from removing yourself from existence. no more fanart and fanfics for you! :)

Fandoms are also made up quite heavily of autistic and other neurodivergent people too, because we might have a certain piece of media as our special interest or hyperfixation.

And considering how often I have had a terf called me the literal R slur? Like ????

Fandom just isn’t the place for them. If they don’t like it, they need to change or fuck off. Plain and simple.