#i don't think it would help for me to weigh in on the actual post that's circulating

[antimony-medusa]

If you are uncomfortable with character shipping in the MCYT space, that is fair. Nobody has to like shipping at any time ever (romance isn't for everyone!), and also while I think the characters are not the creators, I aknowledge that the line is blurry, and it can be too blurry for you!

But I do ask that you be honest with yourself that romance or sexual content between cubitios is not more invasive and terrible to "do to a real person" than trans headcanons, or whump, or cutesy family dynamic, or depicting them as bigoted or abusive, or gore. These are all things which would be weird to do show a real person media about themselves without knowing for sure they were okay with it, and this is why all of these things have been things we've seen various creators put down boundaries about not wanting to see that.

Which is why my stance is that we should be keeping all of that to the fandom, to ourselves, and keeping it away from the creators who share the characters' names. That should be for other fans, not for tagging the main fan art tag on twitter.

But don't confuse your personal discomfort with romance or sexual content or preference for platonic content with the idea that shipping is somehow more invasive and personal for every person on this planet than torture and mindbreak, or aging down a character into a child, or transing their gender for them, or writing them as an abusive parent, or 'posessive behaviour", just to pick a few things I've seen float by on twitter and gone "you have GOT to be kidding me" about.

[friendrat]

Geez... I was just doing some reading on the internet and got a punch in the gut.

This started because I saw a post in a womb twin survivor support group where someone had posted and was describing how they were born with a pin hole in their spine, which sounded very similar to my own diagnosis of Spina Bifida Occulta.

Anyway, certain health problems are more common in Vanishing Twin Survivors, and I thought I remembered that Spina Bifida was one of them, so I was looking it up to see if I was remembering correctly.

As I'm scrolling, one link said, "Spina Bifida a vanishing nightmare." So I clicked on it, and it was a quick thing about how numbers were going down, and they weren't sure why, but part was attributed to terminating affected pregnancies. The conclusion was that if they continued "preventative measures" i.e. termination, Spina Bifida could disappear. Of course! The solution to this health problem isn't to work on an *actual* cure or improve treatments... it's to just kill the people who have it. That will solve everything.

I'm just... I don't even know why I'm surprised. They wanted to kill me then. Of course, they would want to kill me if I was born today. I don't know why I would expect anything else... but it made me so... sad.

You know... I had an older cousin who had a much more severe case of Spina Bifida than I do. And when I say older, I mean he was like my parents' age. He was worse off than me, but he was always smiling. He was always joking with people. He volunteered his time to his local church, he stood by his principals, he helped out people in need without ever asking anything in return... and when he died, the funeral home was packed. There was a line around the building of people waiting to say their goodbyes, and it kept up the entire visitation. People were parked way down the road and had to walk to get there. My cousin was a light in people's lives.

But if he had been born right now, people would just weigh his life based on his disability and determine that he should be killed before his light could reach anyone. But sure... we can eliminate this disorder by killing the people who have it. It's disgusting that people think that way. There's no other word for it.

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (11)

She ever thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Her involvement in the case becomes more crucial than she lets on. wc: 2.7k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

a/n: I know this part is long overdue, I've been very busy lately and I can't seem to write anything good for me to post. But do not fret, I am back and better than ever before (lol) Also, thank you for patiently waiting for this update🤍

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"I WOULD HAVE STRANGLED HIM IF I WERE YOU."

Y/n frowned as she watched the slight furrow on her friend's brow, adding an element of emphasis to her words.

A moment of silence passed between them before Sandy rolled her eyes, leaning against the plush couch in the living room with a tall glass in her hand. "I'm just saying," she explained. "He was being a total jerk."

She let out a sigh. A slight confusion weaved itself whenever she contemplated him. She thought that voicing out her emotions on what occurred these past few days could ease her, yet thinking of him was only making her question her sanity. It was as if her mind was attempting to decipher a language it didn't fully comprehend, leaving her caught between curiosity and apprehension.

She honestly didn't know what to think anymore. One minute she felt like she was head over heels for the guy, and the next minute strangling him didn't seem like a bad idea after all.

She could even list all of the things about him that riled her up, yet somehow the thought of having her hands wrapped around his throat reminded her of something entirely different, which was why she found herself saying, "You know, he would actually enjoy that."

Sandy raised her brows. "What? Getting choked to death?"

She scoffed. "No, not to that extent. But like, in another context." She then narrowed her eyes. "If you know what I mean."

The subtle innuendo didn't go unnoticed as Sandy's eyes widened in surprise. "No way."

"Way."

"Damn," her friend mused before taking a sip of her drink. "Smart and kinky. If only he wasn't such an ass to you."

Smart and kinky weren't exactly words she considered using in one sentence, but the sound of them put together surprisingly sounded enticing. It sounded enticing enough that her mind was starting to play tricks on her. It sounded good enough that she found herself starting to miss him, even when logic dictates that she shouldn't.

And now it sounded compelling enough that she couldn't help but weigh in the pros and cons when it came to the man, putting the cons on his ability to switch attitude in a span of seconds into a completely different person—not to mention his tendency to assume biased reasonings based on poor judgment.

On the other hand, the pros were very hard to ignore. There was a certain charm in his awkward demeanor, especially in his shy and uncertain smile every time it was directed her way. Then there was also his intelligent mind she was definitely drawn to.

But above all that, he was, without a doubt, a certified freak in the sheets.

And that was on top of her list.

A subtle sigh escaped her lips, revealing a hint of her internal struggle. "I mean, he did have a good point, don't you think?"

"Y/n," Sandy warned disapprovingly.

"What? He was only doing his job..." She glanced at her. "...right?"

"This is the alcohol talking," Sandy dismissed before standing up. "You would never forgive a man this easy if you were sober."

"It's Margarita Night, what's the point of being sober?" She proved her point by finishing the last drop of liquor from her glass, the vibrant notes of freshly squeezed lime and tequila playing across her taste buds.

Sandy simply scoffed as she took her glass and disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking together following behind as she started making them a refill. 

Y/n leaned back and closed her eyes, her body poised for a moment of relaxation. But just as the first tendrils of calm began to envelop her, a sharp interruption pierced through the air—the sound of the doorbell ringing.

A grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she rose from the couch. "Our pizza is here!"

Light steps carried her to the door as her stomach grumbled in anticipation, the scent of cheesy goodness already wafting through her imagination. She slowly wrapped her hand around the doorknob and swung the door open, but instead of being greeted by the delivery guy clad in his familiar uniform, the last person she thought would be on the other side of her door stood right in front of her.

Her eyes widened, capturing the shock that rendered her momentarily speechless. Time seemed to slow as her heart raced with caution while she attempted to process on what was happening.

What were the chances of seeing him again right at the moment when she had her friend coming over just so she could rant about the guy?

It was as if the universe was playing a trick on her, presenting a twist she could never have anticipated. As the seconds ticked by, she then finally found her voice, a mix of caution and confusion lacing her words as she muttered, "You're not the delivery guy."

"I'm not," Spencer—god, she still couldn’t believe he was here—responded, his eyes scanning along her features. "Sorry to disappoint you."

There was a fleeting moment where their gaze met, an unspoken wariness passing between them. The memory of their last meeting surfaced with a wave of tension that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She watched as his expression shifted, the space between them seemed to shrink, the air heavy with the weight of their unspoken words.

Then a throat being cleared cut through the silence, a soft disruption that broke the spell of their locked eyes. Startled, her gaze broke away from his, shifting to the source of the interruption. And there, standing beside him was another figure—a woman she hadn't noticed until that very moment.

Recognition flashed in her eyes as she glanced at the familiar face, recalling the blonde-haired lady as one of the agents she met at the bureau the other day. Agent... Jareau, was it?

Yes, that was definitely her name. She was one of the few agents who actually treated her without judgment, checking in on her from time to time, which was why she focused her attention on her instead.

"Agent Jareau, what brings you here?"

"Sorry to barge in this late," she replied with an apologetic smile. "But we'd like to have a few words with you."

"It's fine." Y/n stepped aside and pulled the door wider. "Do you want to come in?"

"No, it's alright, we'll be quick—"

"Yes."

Her gaze turned back to the other man and narrowed her eyes.

"I think it’s better to have this conversation inside."

She studied him for a moment before nodding, letting the two agents step inside her home. There was a clatter coming from the kitchen as she closed the door before walking down the hallway, expecting them to follow behind. "We can talk in the living room but—"

"We're putting you on protection."

She abruptly turned on her heels. "What?"

Agent Jareau sent a disapproving look towards Spencer as if trying to say this was not how they usually handle things in this situation. The woman turned back to her and gave her a reassuring smile before explaining, "We've been investigating the situation thoroughly, and it appears that the Unsub we're dealing with might have developed an unhealthy obsession with you."

Her heart slowly raced, a mix of fear and disbelief coursing through her veins as the words finally sink in. "Obsession?” Her brows furrowed deeper. “What do you mean?"

"As you may know, all of the victims were related to you in one way or another, where you received some kind of mistreatment by them all. We believe the Unsub might be doing this out of his way to protect you."

She felt a knot tightening in her stomach, a growing sense of vulnerability she had never experienced before. "P-Protect me? But why?"

Agent Jareau's expression softened as she continued, "We're still working to understand the motives behind their actions. But given the escalating behavior and the potential danger it poses, we've decided it's best to put you under protection."

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. "Protection? Like... witness protection?"

Spencer, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "Something similar. We're proposing a protective measure—having an officer discreetly follow you during your daily routine."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You want me to be followed?"

Agent Jareau interjected, "It's for your own safety. We believe that having an officer close by could deter any potential threat and give us a better chance of identifying the Unsub."

Her mind raced as she considered the implications. "But how will I know? Will the officer be obvious?"

"Officer Anderson is currently outside in a separate car. He's trained to blend in while keeping a watchful eye on your surroundings."

"I..." she trailed off, then shook her head. "Will he be there all the time?"

Spencer nodded. "Yes, but we'll do our best to be inconspicuous. You won't even know he's there most of the time."

The idea of having an undercover officer tailing her sent a mixture of emotions coursing through her veins. Safety, yes, but also an unsettling feeling of being under constant scrutiny.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Yes, it is."

Her thoughts suddenly spun like a whirlwind, torn between disbelief and grim realization. She had always taken her daily routines for granted, the simple act of going to work or meeting friends devoid of apprehension. Now, each step she took seemed laden with an invisible weight, as if unseen eyes were tracking her every movement.

And to top it all, was she actually the sole reason behind these murders? She wasn't exactly the one acting out these gruesome crimes, yet it might as well happened because of her. Who could harbor such an unhealthy fixation on her? What had she done to attract this unwanted attention?

The unanswered mysteries gnawed at her.

Agent Jareau reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she read the familiar look in her eyes, it was the same look whenever a witness was starting to blame themselves. "This isn't your fault, we're here to support you through this. Your safety is our priority.”

With a deep breath, she nodded, silently accepting the protection they offered. The blonde-haired woman then gestured for her to open the door, which she did, and pointed towards a car parked a few blocks away with its window down, revealing a normal-looking guy sitting behind the wheel.

"That's Officer Anderson, he'll be trailing behind you at a safe distance. You won't even notice he's there."

The officer caught them staring and lifted his hand, a gesture of his greeting. Y/n waved back at him. "Great, I've always wanted a personal bodyguard."

Unfortunately, none of the two agents standing beside her caught the sarcasm in her voice. Agent Jareau turned back to her. "You have our number, right? You can call us anytime if you need assistance."

She did have her number, she also had Agent Prentiss' number who constantly assured her to call if she ever found anything new that could help with the investigation. But surprisingly, out of all the agents she met, the one agent she didn't have their number was the one she had been sleeping with all along.

Not that she was ever going to call him. She simply nodded out of politeness, and as she did, she could feel watchful eyes staring at her intently. Agent Jareau's keen eyes also caught the subtle interaction unfolding before her. She caught the way Spencer's gaze fixed with unwavering intensity on Y/n, who seemed determinedly oblivious to the weight of his stare, or rather, she was purposefully attempting to ignore his scrutiny.

Sensing the tension in the air, she took a step back, offering a fleeting glance to Spencer before turning to leave. "I'll wait in the car."

Her footsteps softly echoed in the night as she disappeared, and Y/n wasn't sure whether being left with him was a good idea.

She could feel the subtle shifts of his movements, the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest, as they stood just inches apart. She could also feel the warmth radiating from his body, a tantalizing contrast to the cool breeze that brushed against her skin.

"You okay?"

The air felt charged with tension as he spoke, his voice carrying a mix of nervousness and sincerity.

"It's safe to say I'm far from being okay," she decided to say.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers curling and then relaxing by his sides. His lips parted slightly as if he were on the cusp of forming the words he had carried within him for so long. His gaze, intense yet searching, traced the contours of her face as if trying to find the right entry point into a conversation that had been left untouched.

And then he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry."

She finally dragged her gaze on him with an expression that betrayed little emotion. "Are you sorry because a serial killer out there has an unhealthy obsession with me or are you sorry about your misconception of me?"

"Both." He seemed to search her eyes for a reaction, his uncertainty palpable. "But you must understand I was doing my job, it was never my intention to hurt you."

"But you did hurt me," she answered, her gaze dropping momentarily before returning to meet his. "Whether it was intentional or not."

He seemed to struggle for words, a mix of emotions playing across his features "I know. I'm sorry."

She tilted her head slightly, her expression remaining impassive. After hearing the new update on the case and how much she was actually involved, she wasn’t in the mood to be having a serious conversation.

"It's getting late,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. “You should probably leave."

Spencer let out a sigh. "Listen, I—"

"It’s getting late,” she repeated, her voice sounding severe. “We can have this conversation another time.”

His shoulders slumped, the weight of his remorse heavy on his chest. He had hoped for a reaction, a sign that his apology had made a difference. Instead, her indifference left him feeling adrift, as if it was a barrier that he couldn't breach, a shield that rendered his efforts to make amends ineffective.

There was nothing else he could do as she turned to face him fully again, her eyes meeting his with a calm finality.

"Good night, Dr. Reid."

He reluctantly took a step back.

"Good night," he murmured.

Then with a nod, he slowly turned away, leaving her standing there all alone. Her gaze remained fixed on his receding figure, his form gradually blending into the night.

Doubt suddenly gnawed at the edges of her consciousness—Had she made the right choice? Was her choice to distance herself a shield to guard against potential heartache, or was it a missed opportunity to rebuild what had been lost?

She shook her head and went back inside, closing the door behind her before leaning against it. It wasn't until she heard footsteps emerging from the kitchen that she realized Sandy was still here.

"What was that all about?"

Y/n glanced at her friend. The two freshly filled glasses in her hands were calling out to her and drowning herself in heaps amount of alcohol seemed like a good idea, even when she was probably going to regret it tomorrow morning. But she needed to feel numb by all of these emotions.

She watched as Sandy offered her a glass, waiting for her reply. There were a lot of things she could answer with, but the only matter that stood out to her was the new revelation on her involvement on the case. So she took the glass from her and pressed her lips around the rim as her mind drifted toward the disguised officer sitting right outside her house.

There was no other way than to explain it as it was.

"I think I might be in danger."

>> NEXT PART

.

taglist #1

@tereresrock @casthings @vader-is-hot @maevethelesbian @whereintheworldisspencerreid @reidverseq @niyahwhoreworld @l4venderia @theintrovertedthespian @lovelyxtom @tayzerr-72 @mulbsstuff @dorothleah @stevenknightmarc @prettyboyspenceee @gracesmusings @kalulakunundrum @fearlessmoony @r5court @simp4f1 @thecrazytealady @nyeddleblog @ghostheartbeat @comfortzonequeen @iiheartbowie @louderfortheback @busy-buzzing @alexis-exe2008 @imtherealslimmoony @baeofevery @elamultistan @lyxennz @avid-fic-reader-05

@cowstealer427 @thollandsdarling @ghxst-heart @cashtons-wife @kyuupidwrites @you-sunshine @comboboo @sebastiansstanswhore @panic-monster @marimorena06 @alice-ace299 @uncle-eggy @bollzinurmouth @julezs-bl0g @ruhrohragu @eternally-passionate @kazuumii @spencerr3idd @withered-rxse @broken-pieces @siredtomsgilbert @kaiya3333 @furiousbanditnickelknight @pinkangelavenue @slay-and-gay @woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction @zeysartzone @frxcless @sadroses98

PLEASE READ: If you already asked me to be added but you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched or I can't tag you. Or if you want to be removed you can also tell me. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[pucksandpower]

Can I request a Charles insta au where his gf receives hate from the fandom and Charles defending her <<3

Charles Leclerc x widow!Reader - Social Media AU

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 1,063,894 others

charles_leclerc date night on the road ❤️

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yourusername so thankful i get to experience all of this with you

charles_leclerc i wouldn’t have it any other way

pierregasly wow just go ahead and crop us out i guess

carlossainz55 they were so caught up in each other i think they forgot that we joined them for dinner

gridgossip why is she private???

circlingthecircuit must have something to hide

leleleclerc or … she doesn’t want to sacrifice her privacy just because she’s dating an f1 driver

paddockgirlie awww they look so happy together

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc my pianist in-training

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yourusername emphasis on in-training 🫣

charles_leclerc you weren’t that bad

yourusername don’t lie to me

charles_leclerc seriously, it was good for your first time learning to play

tifositalking in the words of avril lavigne: hey, hey, you, you, i don't like your girlfriend. no way, no way, i think you need a new one

ferrari4ever charles could do so much better than her!

leclercitup am i the only one who thinks they’re adorable?

feralforferrari me too! they genuinely look completely in love with each other

leclercalicious you deserve to be more than just a rebound for a gold digger

pierregasly

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 839,215 others

pierregasly no wonder charles actually let me drive without a fight today

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yourusername couldn’t help it. i had a comfy pillow

charles_leclerc and i had a personal space heater

luckyleclerc tell charles that she’s just using him

gridgossip seriously! how does charles not realize that she’s going to lead him on and then discard him just like she did her first husband?

totallytifosi you need to leave them alone. you know nothing about her or their relationship. stop blindly hating

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc an important note

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pierregasly no one should have to deal with this and especially not someone with a soul as kind as y/n’s

sebastianvettel so sorry to hear what y/n has been through. it can get very tough sometimes. we’re always here if you need to talk

carlossainz55 anyone who doesn’t like y/n is a horrible judge of character

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, f1wagupdates, and 589,653 others

yourusername It has now been four years without you, my love. Your hoodies no longer smell like you no matter how long I refused to wash them. Your fingerprints on the mirror have been covered by dust. Sometimes I find myself forgetting what your voice sounded like and breaking down in the middle of work. Grief is a horrible thing. But you are permanently imprinted in my heart and my memories of you live on. I fight every day to keep them alive.

I met someone — his name is Charles. In many ways, he reminds me of you. You are both loyal and loving and so incredibly passionate. For the first time in years, I felt my heart come alive again. Charles understands how cruelly love can be snatched away from you. He understands the battle of trying to keep living while melancholy weighs you down. Alongside him, I learned that my heart has room enough for two incredible men and that I can love you both equally and in your own ways.

I know that this is what you would have wanted for me. I know that you’re smiling down on me right now. And it took me a long time to come to terms with it, but I know that it is okay for me to find love and happiness again. I have found it all with Charles. Time will keep passing us by but I promise that my love for you will never grow fainter.

To Ben, I will always love you. To Charles, I will love you just as faithfully until my own dying breath. To those who have supported me, you gave me a reason to keep living. To those who have misjudged and hated on me, I hope that going public with this will set the story straight and at the very least lead to me being treated with basic human decency. Thank you

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charles_leclerc so proud of you, mon amour. thank you for loving me and letting me love you

pierregasly one of the strongest people i know

arthur_leclerc charles has never been happier and anyone with eyes can see that

leclerc_pascale ❤️❤️❤️

carlossainz55 so much love to you both

landonorris i’m so sorry it came to this but we’re all behind you

georgerussell63 we always have your back

[artilite]

ohhhh my gogfh. oh my good gracious ohh man. oh stars oh gems etc etc etc sorry for the spam on your lion dance post i didn’t realize until after going INSANE over it that it’s from like five months ago but again i. i saw it and went insane. genuinely one of my favourite things any isat creator has done to date thank you SO MUCH for the joy and whimsy im running up the WAAAALLS

NOOO NEVER APOLOGIZE I WAS SO SO HAPPY SEEING YOUR TAGS-- it's always a delight seeing other lion dance enthusiasts bc they feel so few and far between :') THANK YOU SO MUCHH AJDHAK !!! also OOF, PASSAGE OF TIME? i promised myself i'd properly revisit lion dance isat one day.. perhaps soon.....

i hope you don't mind me piggybacking off this ask to share my reasoning for their roles :^) i realize i never shared it anywhere JSDHSF (long post under cut) (there's art i promise)

the lion: siffrin and isa!! of course!! The base of a lion usually needs to be strong and steady, traits that fit isabeau very well :) i think he'd also appreciate being reliable/having to be relied on so much, and supporting sif in putting themselves out there in performance. Siffrin also probably weighs like, nothing to him, so that's a plus LOL.

Siffrin would be the head, not only bc they're quick and agile, but also bc I think they'd give the lion a fun personality! I think having the costume to hide behind would help him come out of his shell more :] (and my personal hc is that the island is SE asian in some way, so a fun way to connect to his culture as well, even if he doesn't remember it </3)

i drew them with a fut san lion (just 'cause its easier for me LOL) but i think they'd perform hok san!

the buddha: loop... i think they'd appreciate the ability to look out for sif and isa and keep them safe, while also messing around and being part of the performance themself !! they'd love any opportunity to annoy siffrin anyway HSDJHSDF also something something... universe's cosmic joke being the comedic relief role......

drum: originally i gave the role of drummer to bonnie, but now i'd probably hand the role to either mirabelle, to carry over her leader position in the group, or odile, since she's the most senior member! definitely leaning towards mirabelle though. i like the idea of her being the heart of the party :)

other instruments: odile is on gong, based purely off of vibes. tell me odile wouldn't pop off with the gong. also, she's probably familiar with it already! bonnie gets symbols because that's JUST like banging pots and pans together, which i'm sure they have plenty of. honestly, they could just bang actual pots and pans together LOL. they'd have fun with it :)

[sabo-torao]

Small disclaimer before you head in: this whole post will be referencing the TCB translation. I know VIZ handled the exchange I'm discussing differently, but I couldn't find anyone who talked about the original version and as a result I don't really know who is closer to the original meaning. In any case, the "analysis" should still stand. Whether Dragon was commenting Sabo's firmness or admiring his resolution, Sabo's still putting on a mask, and that's the point I'm trying to break down. Enjoy!

This very specific interaction between Dragon and Sabo in chapter 1083 has always stuck out to me.

"My, you really are unshakeable."

which is an appropriate response to what Sabo said, of course. What kind of sensitive person reacts that way to the death of an innocent, right?

Even so, I can't help but compare the thing Sabo said to his actual, genuine reaction to King Kobra's death.

He's devastated.

Sabo brokenly screams Kobra's name, and his expression is one of full despair; he never thought about killing Kobra, let alone letting him die. On the contrary, he actively tried to save him.

Kobra told him to just let him go, that he was dead weight and he shouldn't be concerned about him, but Sabo straight up refused. In fact, Kobra's actions read way more as a sacrifice than an inevitable death; the king let himself die, knowing that this way Sabo could flee and reach Vivi and Luffy safely.

On the Lulusian ship, we see Sabo think about Kobra's last words to him and actively trying not to cry (and failing).

That's not an unshakable man. He's suffering, he's grieving. He realizes he failed his very own mission of saving the king and lets the meaning behind Kobra's actions and words sink in.

It really puts his former reaction into perspective.

Sabo's firmness, seriousness and coldness in front of Dragon and Ivankov are nothing but a façade. He acknowledges that what he's about to say might come off as harsh, and that, even if he does feel sorry for Kobra, the tragedy doesn't weigh him down thanks to the results it brought, but it all sounds like he's reassuring himself more than actually showing his indifference.

Hell, he even drinks his glass of wine right after having said that "he doesn't really care". How can anyone take his words seriously?

And we've been knowing Sabo is inclined to do this sort of thing since Dressrosa; he acted all cool and composed in front of Luffy but the second Koala called him on the Den Den Mushi he was weeping, having a hard time believing that his little brother didn't punch him or hate him for being alive all along. He even denied he was crying!

All because Sabo hates being seen as vulnerable, especially in front of the people he thinks he has to be strong for (Luffy, Dragon, etc). It's something I think goes back to how his parents treated him, since they scolded him for, y'know, having emotions and being a normal kid in need of love, but i digress.

I once saw someone describing Sabo as a very cold person in comparison to his brothers, even going as far as to say that Sabo doesn't care if people die if it means achieving the Revolutionary Army's goals (using this very interaction as proof), which couldn't be further away from the truth.

Bonney even says outright that it's weird seeing a "radical revolutionary" act so friendly when Sabo helps her out. Why would he do this if all he ever did was for "The Cause"?

Yes, Sabo is ruthless, rude, violent at times, and his friendly demeanor could be seen as a little more volatile than that of his brothers', but he's not heartless. He's not a "meanings to an end" guy, he proves it time and time and time again, and it's disheartening seeing people label him as such.

Sabo is kind. He may not be as warm as Ace and Luffy, but he is fundamentally a good person. A generous, kind, caring, sensitive person.

No matter how hard he tries to hide it.

[letteredlettered]

I wanted to make a separate post about this, partly because I'm feeling a lot of emotions I feel like I've never experienced, or at least don't know how to identify.

There's a lot that goes into writing a fic. You have to consider every word, weighing it against every other word. You read and you reread and you edit and you reread; you sit back and say, "How do I make sure the reader reads this as it is meant to be read; how do I make them feel the weight of the words in the right place; how do I engineer the timing such that this joke lands, this repetition lands, this echo or this feeling or this meaning lands; how do I write this dialogue in a way that allows the reader to understand the tone in which it is being said, the mood with which it is spoken, the feeling the dialogue provokes in the other character listening; how do I make phrase A resonate with phrase B so that the reader can connect the dots between the phrases in a way that produces C?"

Writing is wrangling words so that they behave in an exact way to produce an exact result. The "exact result" is for the writer, not the reader--different readers are going to interpret the meaning and characters differently. But the writer is arranging words in a precise formation to express exactly what they mean, so that the mood is produced exactly as they intend, so that the joke lands at the precise time to land the joke accurately. The reader might not get the joke; they might get the joke but not laugh at it; they might laugh but not like it. Same with tone, mood, meaning, etc. The reader cannot and will not interpret it the same way. But the writer wants to produce the exact equation that will work for them, and then they want to show it to you and hear what you think, even if you work through the equation and get a different result.

This is why writers like comments. They want to hear whether you worked through the equation and got the same result; they're interested in your different results. Like a teacher, they want you to show you're work--how and why did the different parts of the equation lead you to your result? They want this because they poured so much time, energy, thought and feeling into every single portion of that equation. They put so much of themselves into every single word that they want to know how every single word landed.

I'm writing this post because @raitala has started posting their podfic of my fic, Time Signature. And this podfic delivers every single word of this story exactly how I imagined it. Exactly how I meant it. The timing of everything is exactly how I wanted it to be read. The tone of every line of dialogue is exactly what I heard in the character's voices while writing it. Listening to it felt like writing, a feeling so extraordinary that I don't know actually how to describe the things I felt listening.

If you like my writing and have ever wondered what writing feels like for me, how I hear it in my brain, how I mean for it to be read--this is it. And if you don't like my writing, I think that you will still like this podfic, because this podfic is its own entity. I would be recommending the fuck out of it regardless of whether it was my fic, because listening to it is absolutely gripping.

Look. I'm proud of my writing. I think I'm good at it. I think I'm good at things like pacing within a scene and capturing voices in dialogue. But listening to this made me love my writing in a way I never experienced before.

This fic isn't a comedy, but the beginning is meant to be amusing. But listening to this podfic, I was fucking dying of laughter--at lines I could already recite! Because I had written them! I had written them with the intention of being a little witty, a little wry. But hearing them spoken with timing so precise, so exact, I couldn't help but feel that this is some of the funniest shit I've ever heard.

This fic is mostly porn. It's extremely filthy porn. Porn as often awkward read aloud; there are the actual mechanics of bodies moving, then all the feelings, then the moaning and if you're me, lots and lots of dirty talk. And sex scenes in audio books usually bring me a certain measure of embarrassment--this reader is trying too hard to pant and sound needy; that reader is being to clinical and removed; this reader is making it sound like a porno; that reader is failing to sound sexy. But this podfic is read so perfectly that listening to these sex scenes sounded like the experience of reading them--or at least, how I want them to be read. When you read a good sex scene, the words should fall away, and the scene itself should play out in your head, whether visually (for some) or just through cognition (for me). You should feel the emotions of it without feeling distracted by things like sentence structure. And this is how @raitala reads. Yep, it's someone saying the words "cock" and "pussy" a whole bunch, and yep, it's super hot and very explicit. But the timing and the tone are so perfect that the awkwardness of a live person reading these things falls away, and you feel like you're watching a movie.

But this fic is one other thing. It's a fic about two musicians who make music, and while not a whole lot of time is spent talking about music, that's mostly what's happening when there's not porn (and sometimes what is happening when there is porn). I'm not a musician; nor do I particularly invest time and interest in music like most people seem to. But I did a lot of research for the music in the fic, and the reason for that and the research that I did are both described in the post I did here.

What makes this podfic truly extraordinary is that @raitala not only exactly captured the timing and tone of every word, but also precisely captured the meaning and feeling of the music parts of this fic through the soundscape they provided.

I've never listened to a podfic that provided a soundscape. The soundscape in this fic is almost all music. @raitala absorbed the meaning of the music from the fic, then also paid attention to the post I did about the music for the fic, then they did their own research to find additional pieces to fit the mood and meaning of the fic, then put that music into the fic at precise moments, sometimes letting it stand alone, sometimes layering it under the words of the fic, sometimes layering several tracks on top of each other to match the description or feeling of the music described in the fic.

The choices for the music are extraordinary. The layering of the music is extraordinary. The timing of the music is extraordinary. All of it is just literal enough for it to feel a bit like an audio play, but none of it is so literal that the fic is not allowed to be a fic--since it was written as a fic and not a play. The choices made around when the music starts and stops are thoughtful and deliberate and also perfect.

There is one time when sound is used that is not music, and this sound is used to create a distinct sense of space. It occurs when the two main characters are in the car, and what is extraordinary about this use of sound is that when I was writing that time in the car, I was trying so hard to create that sense of being in a small space with one other person you have strong feelings for, the way it can feel like another world, alone on the road. And @raitala took that feeling of otherworldliness and intimate privacy I was trying so hard to create and gave it its own distinct sound to outline the boundaries of that space and that feeling, as though when they read the fic, they got what I was trying to do. They got everything I was trying to do, and made it one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard.

I'm making this post to rec this podfic, but I also just really needed to ...idk, express? how meaningful this is for me personally. Like on the one hand, I want to tell you all that listening to this fic felt like finally getting to watch the movie of the characters you ship so hard fucking and kissing and saying all the things you want them to say--a shocking feat in and of itself, given that these characters are Chinese and speak Chinese and this fic is in English and the podfic and spoken in English. But on the other hand, I just want to go on about the fact that listening to this made me realize wow, this is a good fic, this is a meaningful fic, and if I can make people feel this way and understand what I mean in this shockingly beautiful way, then I really have been doing meaningful things writing fanfic my whole life; it really matters; it really touches people.

It touched me, and I hope it touches you.

[jadoue1999]

You and I, we were born to die

(Previously posted on AO3)

Summary: “I’m sorry Robs. You wouldn’t be dying in a freaky alternate dimension if I hadn’t dragged you into this.”

“I don’t regret it, I got to meet you.” A cough shakes her body, it sounds painful. When she finally catches her breath, her voice is tight. “Kinda wish we weren’t bleeding out in a psycho’s attic, though. Or that we could have at least reached 21.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles in agreement. “Still, it was fun while it lasted.”

"It was."

Or: Season 4 divergence where Vecna is defeated but Steve and Robin don't beat the death allegations.

Words: 3481

The vines stab right through him.

Steve chokes on the sharp pain, wishing that he could scream, but there isn’t enough air in his lungs to do that. He hears Robin grunt too, and fear stabs his guts even harder than the vines did.

Then they let go.

Without fanfare or parade, the vines suddenly retreat. They all collapse to the ground in a heap, his stab wound sending white hot pain coursing through his body. Steve can’t bring himself to get up, and one look at Robin is enough to know that she can’t either.

“Guys, come on,” says Nancy, oblivious to their injuries. Somehow, she’d been spared. “We can’t waste more time.”

“Nance—” he tries, but his throat is tight and it comes out gargled.

Still, she seems to understand him. “You can catch your breath after Creel is dead. You too, Robin.”

Nancy’s never been good at thinking of others during a crisis, that was his job. But that's why she’s such a good leader; she doesn’t let her emotions get in the way of the objective. Steve can feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, numbing the pain. He has to push through. Robin seems to be on the same page because she gets up at the same time as he does. They hold onto each other as they follow. Nancy doesn’t even look back at them.

He hopes that they can hold on until it’s all over.

***

They win.

Against all odds, they win.

Vecna’s corpse is burned to a crisp and Nancy smiles at it. The nightmare is finally over.

“Did we do it?” Asks Robin, surprisingly breathless. Must be nerves.

“Yeah,” she confirms, staring at the dying embers of what remained of Henry Creel. “We won.”

Steve lets out a relieved chuckle that sounds more like a wheeze; both teens behind her do. Alarms start blaring in her head when she hears Robin collapse to the floor.

“Robin!” She gasps out as she rushes to her side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nance…” Steve starts but she cuts him off.

“Not now Steve,” she dismisses. “Help me get her over there.”

He doesn’t argue and goes to grab one of Robin’s arms while she goes for the other. The girl doesn’t weigh much, so it’s a bit of a surprise to hear him struggle so much. The whole time they move her, Robin’s eyes are transfixed on Steve, she looks worried. As for herself, Nancy’s worry grows tenfold when she realizes that Robin isn’t just exhausted; she’s bleeding.

It’s not a light bleeding either, it already soaked through her shirt and jacket. She doesn’t have anything to stop the bleeding, so she uses her hands. She’s halfway through begging Robin to hold on when Steve suddenly falls to the ground, sitting beside his best friend. Robin curls into his side and his face briefly twists in pain. Nancy cannot believe that he would just abandon her like that. Doesn’t he want to at least try to save her? She tells him just that. But whatever reaction she might have expected, resignation isn’t one of them.

And yet that’s what she gets.

“Come on, Steve!” She urges. “We can’t just leave her here!”

“Nance—” he tries, but she doesn't want to hear excuses.

“We can’t just leave her here! We have to get her to a hospital—”

“Nancy,” interrupts Robin. Her face is glistening with sweat, so is Steve’s actually. The girl slowly turns her head towards Steve’s hand, which is holding onto Nancy’s tightly. Only then does she register the blood.

Steve’s hand is soaked in it.

“What—”

Steve removes his arm from his torso, and she freezes when she sees even more blood.

“W— what happened?” She stammers, struggling to understand what’s happening.

“The vines,” exhales Steve. “Guess Vecna wanted to make sure to go out with a bang.”

Both he and Robin laugh at that but she hates it. How dare they make light of their situation? She couldn’t carry them out of there, not alone. They were going to die here.

As though he could read her mind, Steve gives her a soft smile. “It’s okay, Nance,” he reassures. “It’s okay.”

She hates that he’s repeating what he told her two years ago, when he had assured her he didn’t mind her dating Jonathan, even if they hadn’t technically broken up yet. And she hates how relieved he sounds at the thought of dying.

“Had a feeling we wouldn’t make it out,” wheezes Robin. “We wrote letters, for all of you. They’re in Steve’s bedside drawer; can you make sure everyone gets them?”

At first, she’s tempted to argue because there’s no way they’re going to die here. They won, so they have to be alright, they have to celebrate with everyone. But it doesn’t take long for Nancy to realize that it’s not realistic. They’re not coming home, so the least she can do is make sure that the letters don’t gather dust.

“I will,” she promises.

The pair smile at that and it’s so much more painful than she’d thought. Nancy wants all this to be one of Vecna’s visions or a particularly bad nightmare, but the aching in her chest reminds her that this is very real.

She’s going to lose her friends.

Small sobs rip through her, but she can’t let them show, she doesn’t want Robin and Steve to think about how everyone is going to react. She has to be strong for them. As usual, though, Steve reads her like a book.

“Come here,” he says, opening his arms.

Nancy goes for the hug with no hesitation. Maybe it’s being held by the both of them, or maybe it’s the fact that this will be the last hug they’ll ever share, but she melts into tears. The worst is that Steve and Robin hold her tightly the whole time, whispering reassurances in her ears that she should really be telling them. She's painfully aware of their rapidly fleeting strength, like a slow countdown until their last moment together as their grip gets gradually looser. They eventually part, and Nancy can feel wetness on her shirt; she knows it’s not tears.

“You should go, Nance,” says Steve, a noticeable tiredness to his voice.

“I’m not leaving you,” she counters.

Robin exhales sharply. “We don’t want you to see us like that. We don’t want your last memory of us to be our corpses.”

She doesn't like it but she knows it’s for the best. Robin and Steve are protecting her, yes, but they probably need a moment alone together too. She’s never really understood their closeness, but now, seeing Robin curled in Steve’s side and him leaning his head on hers, she’s never understood it better. They’re a puzzle that fits perfectly into each other.

“Okay,” she agrees after a moment.

Nancy goes to leave, but she barely makes it past the door before she’s running back. She needs proper closure, and she knows they do too. Before she can stop herself, she grabs Steve’s face and kisses him deeply. He freezes, but it doesn’t matter. Nancy had felt the tension between them, the dying embers of a fire she had put out herself starting to ignite once more. She’d been scared, reluctant even, but there was nothing to lose now.

She lets go of his face and ignores the confusion in his eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be.”

He’s confused, but Nancy isn’t done yet. She then grabs Robin’s face and kisses her too. Her lips are softer, but Nancy kisses with anger. Anger that they’ll never get to explore why Robin is making her feel that way, anger that she was too much of a coward to let herself explore new experiences. Anger because the sparks she feels as Robin kisses back will forever haunt her with their intensity.

When Nancy lets go of Robin’s face, she’s delighted to see that she’s blushing. Actually, both Steve and Robin are flushed red and it makes her forget about their predicament for a moment. Not for long though.

Nancy brushes her thumb over the girl’s cheek as she whispers. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance.”

And then, before anyone has time to react or regret, she leaves the room. Silent tears falling down her cheeks. It doesn’t take long to reach the trailer. Both Dustin and Eddie are gone, they had thankfully stuck to the plan. She doesn’t think she could have taken another loss. She quickly climbs up the rope and falls on the mattress. A hand reaches to help her get up, but she doesn’t go to grab it. Sobs wrecks her body as the gravity of the situation fully hits her. 

“Where's Steve and Robin?” A small voice asks.

She meets Dustin’s worried eyes. Only then does she realize that she didn’t just lose her friends, Dustin lost his brother, and the Party lost their friends and their protector. 

“Nancy…” Eddie says, worry in his voice. “Why is there blood on your shirt?”

Her voice dies in her throat.

***

There’s a few seconds of silence after Nancy leaves and then they’re both high-fiving before immediately wincing in pain.

“Wheeler,” exhale Robin. “Who knew?”

“I certainly didn’t,” he scoffs. Out of everyone Steve knew, Nancy was literally the last person he’d thought would be queer.

“I thought she was jealous of us because she still had a crush on you. Never thought she might crush on us both!”

He laughs, and that laugh quickly turns into a coughing fit that shakes his entire body painfully. A thick blob of something climbs up his throat along with an impressive amount of saliva. He spits the dark mass on the floor littered with dying vines and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Steve spares a glance at his soaked hand and jacket and oh—

That’s definitely not saliva.

“Robs?” He calls out, trying not to sound too freaked out.

“Mmmh?” She responds quietly, tiredly. 

“Look.”

Begrudgingly, she slowly lifts her head. He waits for her eyes to focus, he waits for her to realize what she’s seeing and what it means.

“Is that blood?” Robin asks, trying to straighten up but she gives up when it’s clear that they’re too weak to move like that.

Steve sighs as he lets his arm lower to the ground. “Yeah.”

“We’re so fucked,” lament his best friend before curling tighter in his side. “‘M cold.”

“Me too,” he agrees.

They both know that it’s not just the usual chill of the Upside Down making them like this. He’s got his left arm wrapped around her shoulders, but he’s too numb to feel it. His body is getting heavier by the second but he doesn’t want to die yet, he’s got so much to say.

“Robin? Are you awake?”

It takes a moment for her to answer, and he fears that he lost her without saying goodbye. Thankfully, he’s wrong.

“Unfortunately,” she mumbles.

Steve feigns offense. “You’d let me die alone? That’s so selfish.”

“One of us is going to die first, dingus,” she snarks without bite. “I know you’re too stubborn to go first.”

He laughs softly, she’s right as usual. She thankfully sounds more awake than she did a few minutes ago; he counts that as a win.

“I’m going to miss our movie nights with the kids,” he confesses. “Dustin is going to be so pissed that we won’t get to watch ‘Back to the future’ together.”

Robin chuckles. “He’d kill us if we weren't dying already.”

“He’d raise us from the dead just to kill us again,” Steve jokes.

His best friend sighs sadly. “I hope the kids are going to be okay without their babysitter.”

His heart twists painfully at the realization, but he does his best to ignore it. “They’re not kids anymore, they’ll be fine.” He pauses before adding. “They have Eddie now.”

“They better make some fucking D&D characters in our honor,” grits Robin. “They better make them unkillable.”

Steve doesn’t know jackshit about their game, but he’s fairly sure that’s not possible. Still, it’s a nice thought.

“I don’t want to die, Steve,” croaks Robin,

“Neither do I,” he answers. 

He thought he wanted to die for the longest time. He thought he had no future, no use beyond protecting his kids. For the longest time, he figured he’d die a hero’s death, sacrificing himself for the greater good and finally atoning for all the wrong he’s done in the world. But now that he got his heroic death, he doesn’t want it.

He wants to live.

But really, Steve’s fate had been sealed since ‘83. Since the moment he’d gone back to the Byers and faced off against the Demogorgon instead of running away. He’d been on borrowed time since.

“At least…” starts Robin, and he knows what she’s going to say. They talked about this already.

“At least it’s not one of the kids,” he completes.

It takes a long time for things to die in the Upside Down, and that apparently includes them. His bat bites have been torn open and he’s been impaled clean through. There’s enough blood on and around them to know that they should both be dead by now and yet they’re still holding on. Some stupid, foolish, part of him hopes that they’ll be both rescued, like in a movie when the audience has lost all hope but the hero wakes up in the hospital, injured but alive. Hope is a bitch like that.

But he knows no one is coming for them, it would take too much manpower that they just don’t have right now. He wonders briefly what’s going to happen to their bodies before realizing that Robin hasn’t talked in a while.

“Robs?” He asks.

No response.

He tries again. “Robin?”

“What, dingus?” She mumbles.

Steve’s never been so relieved in his entire life, or what’s left of it anyway. “Thank god, I thought you were dead.”

When Robin speaks again, he can hear the grin in her voice. It’s weak but it’s there. “God has nothing to do with this. He abandoned Hawkins a long time ago.”

Steve chuckles bitterly at that. Knowing Robin’s track record, she’s probably right. “Do you think they’ll come back for our bodies? I feel like it’d be weird to bury empty caskets.”

“I don’t really care,” exhales Robin. Her voice is getting quieter, he tries really hard not to focus on that. “I just want our graves to be next to each other.”

“If that happens, there’s no way your parents are going to believe that we’re not married.” 

Robin’s parents had been on their case since they first saw them together. He’d had the full boyfriend talk despite their many protests that they were just friends. Recently, her family had moved on from thinking that they were together to believing that they had gotten married in secret with how close and comfortable they were with the other.

His best friend chuckles softly. “Wouldn’t be so bad.” 

Then, Robin is grunting and moving and it takes him a moment to understand that she’s reaching for his hand. He meets her halfway, but it’s a lot harder than expected. Still, she grabs his hand and squeezes his numb fingers as she recites. “In sickness and in health, through the good and the bad… and the really bad,” she adds.

She continues talking, and it takes him longer than he’d like to admit to realize that Robin is reciting wedding vows. 

“Til death do us part,” she finishes.

“Til death do us part,” he repeats.

Steve forces his uncooperative muscles to move so he can lean down and press a kiss to her forehead. If he sees silent tears running down her cheeks, he doesn’t mention it; just like she doesn’t mention his either.

“I do,” he murmurs.

Robin presses herself firmly against him. “I do.”

He notices the rattle in her breath, and it scares him. They’re both running out of time.

“We’re married,” breathes out Robin. “Guess the kids were right.”

“Platonically married,” he specifies before sighing. “I really thought we’d spend our whole lives together until we’d be all gray and wrinkly. Like grow old and die together, you know?”

Robin snorts. “You’re at least partly right. That’s more than your usual. One strike on the board, ‘you rule’ section this time.”

“Had to happen at least once.” Steve chuckles bitterly, thinking back at that summer before everything went to shit. They might not have been the closest, but that had been the most normal he’d felt in ages. “I’m sorry Robs. You wouldn’t be dying in a freaky alternate dimension if I hadn’t dragged you into this.”

“I don’t regret it, I got to meet you.” A cough shakes her body, it sounds painful. When she finally catches her breath, her voice is tight. “Kinda wish we weren’t bleeding out in a psycho’s attic, though. Or that we could have at least reached 21.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles in agreement. “Still, it was fun while it lasted.”

Steve feels a bit shitty about recalling their discussion in the Russian bunker, but they had been so sure that they were about to die until they got unexpectedly rescued. Maybe they can have one more miracle.

“It was,” completes Robin.

Silence fills the attic, occasionally interrupted by their labored breathing as they simply sit there, holding onto each other waiting for death to take them. His eyes are getting heavier, and it gets progressively harder to fight off the darkness. The adrenaline wears off as well at some point and the pain hits him full force.

Steve tries to focus on anything other than the pain and his eyes land on Vecna’s corpse. It’s barely more than a lump of melted flesh at this point and Steve finds it difficult to believe that this— this pile of goo was the source of all their problems. Honestly, if he could move, he’d stomp on it until he made a hole in the floor. Like he did with that Demobat. It’s at that moment that he realizes how quiet everything is. There’s no chittering sounds, no screeching, and no lightning; the army died with their general. 

Steve’s blood freezes in his veins when he realizes that something else is quiet; something that definitely shouldn’t be.

“Robin?”

He can’t hear her rattling breath and as much as he wants to believe that she just got better, the churning in his guts tells him otherwise. His throat tightens, but he has to make sure. They’re still holding hands, so he squeezes hers. 

“Hey,” he calls out. His voice breaks in a way that he knows Robin would have made fun of him if she could. He nudges his shoulder. “Hey.”

Robin is frighteningly still against him, which is so much worse than he can expect. She had never been able to sit still, even when her life depended on it. She was always twitching or fidgeting or rambling about whatever was going on in her head. God he’s going to miss her rambling so much. Steve knows that Robin is gone, and he’s going to follow soon, but he can’t just do nothing.

“I love you,” he says, sobs threatening to spill. “I love you so much and I hope we can find each other again, wherever we’re going next. I don’t know who I’d be if you hadn’t stumbled into my life. I was better than I was, but you made me feel like I could grow into something better, inspirational even.”

He pauses because he’s used to letting some time for Robin to answer. He gulps when he’s only met with silence. 

“I thought I’d take this secret with me to the grave, which I guess I kinda am, but here we go… I think I like Eddie. And not just ‘he’s a nice guy’ kind of like. It’s just his smile, and his eyes, and the way he just… is. I don’t know how to explain it but I think I love him.”

Some desperate part of him hopes that she reacts. If something is going to shock her enough to bring her back to life, it’s the fact that famous ladies' man Steve Harrington isn’t entirely straight. But Robin doesn’t do anything and his bleeding heart shatters in even tinier pieces than he thought possible. He’s honestly glad that he doesn’t have to carry on because he doesn’t know how he’d live with half of himself gone.

“We’ll be okay,” he tells Robin as his vision blurs and the call of sleep gets impossible to resist. “As long as we’re together,” he slurs, his mouth barely articulating the words. “We’ll be okay.”

Steve closes his eyes.

Notes: Thank you for reading! I'm slowly starting to write again and I, of course, had to do some angst to get myself into it. I should be posting a one shot of Fae Steve and Vampire Eddie soon, depending on the result of my poll!

I would love to know what you thought of this!

[mtkay13]

Gonna post TWO hoboxus today because I CAN! (still desperately trying to catch up with my twitter posts LOL help I'm terrible at this)

From a meme based on art by KOTTERI, the author of Veil (among amazing other things). Find them on twitter @_K0TTERl_!

More musing below, as per usual! (Be ready it's a LONG one again)

I really hesitated with how I wanted to do this. The original had this gorgeous red poster that seemed like a perfect fit for WKX:

(@_K0TTERl_)

Either I went for the imagery of ZZS wistfully gazing upon the mysterious and eccentric WKX, which would definitely have been more aesthetic and undeniably fitting, or I went the semi-humorous route of channelling the "WKX fell for that ugly hobo and his gorgeous shoulder blades" meme-ified side of their dynamic.

Well, clearly that's where I ended up going, but I feel like explaining a bit.

For me, this picture was three-folds:

First part is the meme; it's kind of funny, kind of ridiculous, and sets the tone of what TYK starts off as; rather absurd, with its reasonable dose of dark humor, and the (at first seemingly improbable) meeting and love story between a silly dying hobo and a strange, suspicious, hedonistic gentleman. It felt thematically appropriate for TYK to twist the original image and put the obviously uglier one on the poster since TYK relies heavily on genre subversion to begin with.

Secondly, there is WKX. So, controversial opinion (/jk) but I don't think WKX was necessarily convinced or even really thought that ZZS was "a beauty" underneath his alleged mask. It was probably a mix of various feelings and teasing/provoking which lead to this joke. First, everything he expresses throughout the book and in extra 4; the fascination for this man who seemed too hide great strength and was of no known identity--who was probably more than what he seemed.

(I'm gonna push it just a little bit ((but isn't that the fun of literary interpretation)), but the "beauty under the mask" is not only physical. It could be a way to say, I think that beneath your raunchy, ridiculous attitude, beneath your gross appearance, beneath the pretense that you're a nobody, that you're a peasant, you're probably someone of great importance and great accomplishments, someone much stronger than you pretend to be--someone like me, perhaps, even. The shoulder blades references are, besides of course WKX *actually* noticing them, the observation of how ZZS moves, of how agile his body is, etc...)

Anyway-- the entire point of this intro is to say that to me, this isn't actually referring to that whole side of their dynamic (or not entirely), but rather to that passage that I am STILL OBSESSED WITH where Wen Kexing recognizes ZZS just from the way he's sitting in a restaurant, and that makes him feel things not entirely positive:

Zhou Zishu stepped into an inn alone. He chose a seat by a window, ordered a few side dishes and a jug of mulled rice wine, and drank it slowly while soaking in the sunshine. As soon as Wen Kexing walked in, he saw Zhou Zishu from behind. He didn’t know why, but he thought that this view was quite special—he could always pick it out of a crowd. Zhou Zishu did not sit with his back straight. Most of the time, he lounged indolently at an angle that looked exceptionally comfortable. Wen Kexing thought that it seemed as though nothing weighed on him; seeing him was enough to ease the heart. Wen Kexing unconsciously halted his steps. He stared at Zhou Zishu’s relaxed silhouette for a while, with no trace of an expression in his face or eyes. His heart swelled with some strange feeling—strange, in that it was no feeling at all. He felt as though this man was mocking him with this wordless posture; he who rushed around for one thing or another, who was burdened with so many cares, yet obstinately put on a devil-may-care persona. Zhou Xu—as carefree as duckweed, he thought, with a body like willow catkins. In all the world, with its boundless perspectives, where could you find someone who walked their path alone and never allowed anything to trouble them? Yet he was not apathetic—he had his joy, his anger, his sorrow—and they came in a flash as quickly as they went. Within the blink of an eye, he had forgotten it already.

(Tian Ya Ke, chapter 18, TL by Lianzi) (have I quoted this already??? If not I should have I love this passage so much)

AND THEN QUOTING ANOTHER PASSAGE (LOL), TL by me this time:

From the moment he'd noticed his shoulderblades, felt this rush of excitement, to when he'd started liking who Zhou Zishu was, when he'd thought——so this is the Commander of Tian Chuang. Suddenly, he'd felt as if he'd met his other self. Both of them, lone wolves caught in a hunter's trap, struggling for freedom to no avail, until they had resolved to coldly gnawing off their own legs in the end. He'd felt compelled to follow him around, watched him, until he suddenly realised—if Zhou Zishu could live like this, then surely, so could he?

(Full passage in this other post LOL)

So yes, THIS. Those two things. That's it. Need I say more? HAH OF COURSE I DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO (help)

More seriously--the way WKX is captivated by ZZS' apparent carefreeness and freedom, all the different feelings (or absence thereof, as he puts it, which I interpret as so distant from what he's used to feel that it almost feels like nothing at all) is what I was going for here.... By not showing his face at all LMAO

The envy, the frustration--the impression of being mocked, but also the longing, how it inspired him to follow along and try to be free like he was.

-cough- yes, so that was point 2 out of 3.

Now lastly, about ZZS himself and my representation of him as hoboxu. I think (?) I've written enough about him that I think I can keep this succint. I love how priest often makes a point of expliciting, in the book, how he's so often smiling, and how he's always incredibly energetic in the morning, as if the night of pain had never happened. I like to think that hoboxu is both a carricature of a ridiculous character that ZZS has fun embodying---but also a liberated expression of his deeper self.

WKX feels like he's mocking him, but ZZS is also mocking himself relentlessly, when he feels like the outside resembles the inside finally, when he feels ridiculous in these new robes, when he allows himself the most outrageous behavior---and then there's mocking life itself, mocking jianghu, mocking everything that he nonetheless deeply cherishes. It's almost... gently mocking, affectionate mocking of everything because his own life has become a joke yet he's still going to enjoy it to the fullest--drinking to his heart's content, rolling in the mud and visiting touristy sites (or so he intended).

In the end... the world is still in his own hands. He chose everything, chose the way he lived, the way he (would have) died and still has the power to dissappear at will--but he stays. Stays and endures what he pretends annoys him, because he can't help himself, because he's ridiculous and is aware of it and may as well have some fun while being so.

I can't seem to ever have enough of this, of this vibe. I wanted to have him laugh at and with WKX, at and with the people seeing him, at and with himself, at and with the narrative.

SO YEAH HAH THATS HUM THAT'S IT. You know what they say, it's only a fun meme if there's an essay behind it (noone says that help 😭😭😭😭)

I hope you had fun reading it and have a nice weeked 🤪

[callalillywrites]

His Scarred Omega Part 1

Alpha!Bucky really put me in a chokehold the past couple of days. I wasn't even trying to write his story just yet. Was actually trying write a one-shot that would happen after the main story, but yeah, he quite changed my mind and this feverish, 7-part story came to be in two days.

This is set in the same universe as Their Sweet Omega (aka It Takes All Packs to Make It Work). You don't really have to read that story first, which features Alpha!Jake Jensen with Beta!Pre-serum Steve Rogers and their Omega!Reader, but I would love it so much if you did. They hold my heart as much as Bucky does.

Relationship: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1450

Summary: While helping out his friends, Bucky makes a shocking discovery. He's got a daughter he never knew existed.

Warnings: not much in this part beyond one shell-shocked Bucky

A/N: I wrote this story really fast as I mentioned above. It’s proofread but all mistakes are my own.

I also do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

*****

Bucky is a weak man.

He really is.

All it takes a pretty face making those awful puppy eyes at him, and he’s putty in Angel’s hands.

She doesn’t play fair, either, enlisting Steve’s equally effective puppy-dog eyes.

Bucky kowtows in less than five seconds though he’ll forever say it took more than that to get him to agree to help them.

Spooky Season is right around the corner.

Angel and Steve feel bad for telling Jake he can’t buy any more big decorations for their home. It’s already overflowing as it is, but they do know he’s been eyeing a couple of pieces. He really is the best Alpha for them as Jake’s constantly doting on them and taking such good care of them.

One of said pieces is what Angel and Steve have wrangled Bucky into this whole mess.

They drag him to the store to pick up said piece, needing his Alpha strength and build since the piece weighs more than the two of them combined plus some. No way they can get it home, let alone carry it into their home. Delivery isn’t an option, either, without paying triple what the item costs.

So, he’s there and eyeing the piece with them.

A few grumbles come out under his breath. “I’m holding you to your promise, Angel.”

Angel simply smiles at him, knowing she still has his help and nods. “I haven’t forgotten. Name the date, and I’ll be there. We’ll take down that ogre boss together.”

“Your truck will hold this, won’t it, Buck?” Steve can’t help asking, seeing the piece himself and having his own doubts about this plan he and Angel came up with for Jake.

Bucky eyes the box holding the piece for another few moments before he finally nods. “It’ll be a tight fit, but I’ll make it work.”

With that, the trio begin working on pulling the giant statue from the low shelf and onto the flatbed cart they snagged from an employee.

With that successfully done, Angel quickly grabs up a spare ticket for the cashier to scan since the barcode is poorly placed on the bottom of the box. Not something they’re going to want to deal with and slow down the few lanes open at this time of day.

“I’ll go ahead and pay for it if you two want to start making your way to the truck,” Steve says, taking the ticket from Angel and rushing off before she can think to argue.

Bucky bites back a smile when he sees and hears Angel huff at Steve’s retreating back.

“The punk is gone, Angel,” he says.

“He promised we’d split this gift.” Angel turns back to Bucky with a look he’s come to understand all too well in the almost two years he’s known her now. He does his best to brace himself as she grabs the front of the flatbed cart. “Time to do some extra shopping, I guess. If I can’t use my money on Jake, then I’m going to use it on Stevie.”

Shaking his head, Bucky knows better than to try and dissuade her at this point. “How are you going to hide this gift from him when he’s with us?”

Rather than answer, Angel just gives him a mischievous look that has him bracing for whatever he’s about to witness.

He can’t help wondering how Jake handles these two most days as Angel drags him towards the art supply aisles of the store. A basket somehow ends up in the crook of her arm where she’s already tossing several items within it. How that happened, he can and will never be able to explain.

Within five minutes, she has the basket overflowing with supplies.

Bucky can make out a lot of the brands that Steve really likes, including some of the more expensive items that Steve only splurges occasionally to get himself.

When Angel is satisfied with her overflowing basket, she grabs hold of the flatbed and helps him maneuver toward the front of the store again.

Seeing the satisfied grin on her face, Bucky can’t help wondering if he’ll ever find someone who wants to spoil him as much as Angel, Steve, and Jake spoil each other. That’s the kind of love Bucky wants, but he’s not sure it’ll ever be in the cards for him.

It’s on their way back that they overhear a young girl, probably no older than 8 or 9 as she whined about one of the latest costume trends. “All the girls are going as Harley Quinn this year, Auntie. Please? Please?”

The woman’s voice niggles at Bucky as he overhears the woman say, “You can go as a butterfly or a witch, but I draw the line at Harley, Gracie. We can talk about Harley when you’re older.”

“Mama would’ve let me go as Harley,” the young girl named Gracie grouses back. “I wish she was here instead of you.”

Bucky isn’t sure why or how it’s possible, but it’s like he can feel the disappointment and sadness of the woman at the young girl’s words. No doubt the woman is an Omega, but he’s never had such a reaction to someone like this before. He briefly wonders if Jake has had this reaction with either Angel or Steve before. A mental note is made to ask Jake later about it.

When they round the corner, Bucky gets his first glimpse of the Omega and the young girl named Gracie.

He forgets how to breathe as he takes in the familiar features of a woman he never thought to see again. A woman who’d been little more than a young lady when he last saw her.

Has it really been almost ten years since he’s seen her?

Yet, it’s not the Omega from his past that captures his focus as much as Gracie does.

The little girl’s appearance is enough to send Bucky to his knees.

It’s not possible.

It can’t be.

Yet, there’s no denying this Gracie looks just like him. The same dark hair. The same crystal blue eyes. Even her nose and mouth match his as they pout up at her aunt.

“You okay, Buck?” Angel asks, her gaze going between him and the Omega with the little girl. “Bucky?”

Her questions don’t go unnoticed, either, as the Omega turns her attention to them. Her eyes widen and her lip instantly goes between her teeth. A gesture that Bucky recalls she does when she’s feeling guilty about something.

No one speaks for another full minute.

At least, not until Steve happens upon them and sees the Omega.

“Sapphire, is that really you?” Steve asks before his gaze drops to the little girl.

Bucky knows he’d be laughing at Steve’s comically shocked expression if he could just get the ability to breathe and function back into his own body.

“Who is this?” Steve finally asks with a soft smile at the little girl. He holds out his hand to the little girl and introduces himself.

“I’m Gracie.”

She adds her last name as she takes Steve’s hand.

Steve’s gaze bounces between Gracie and Bucky. It’s clear he’s coming to the same conclusions Bucky already has made at seeing the little girl.

Gracie is his kid, and Dot is her mother.

Dot, the woman who broke his heart all those years ago with a Dear John letter. The same woman who has given birth to his child and never bothered to tell him.

“So, I think we need to talk,” her aunt says, her gaze never leaving Bucky.

Bucky nods, drawing on his inner alpha to help him regain control of himself.

“Yeah, we do.”

He wants answers, and he’s going to make sure he gets them one way or another.

“Tomorrow at noon?” her aunt asks, naming a quiet café not too far from the store.

Bucky nods again, then turns his attention to Gracie.

A small smile grows on his features as she’s lost interest in Steve and has turned her attention to him. Her eyes study him in a way that he knows he’s done with others throughout his life. She’s taking note of everything about him, and he can only hope he doesn’t end up disappointing her.

Whatever doubts he might have, they disappear the longer he and Gracie measure each other.

She’s his.

When she holds out her little hand to him, he has to swallow the emotions clogging his throat as she introduces herself. It takes him a few tries before he can tell her his name in return.

Now, he has to make sure he doesn’t lose any more time than he’s already lost with her.

*****

Main Masterlist

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - I Need You To Need Me

I know what I said about posting more Man United fics, and I will 😅. Just know that every other post will be a Ruben Dias fic hahahah.

I have about a hundred Ruben fics in my mind and it only takes me thirty minutes to write them so....

Summary - Pregnant reader can't sleep because of back pain, this leads to a eventful night for Ruben and Reader.

Enjoy!

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"My back. It hurts."

"Do you need me to bring you something,  a hot water jug?"

"No, I'll rather just stand."

"What do you mean?"

You threw your feet over the edge of the bed, sitting up.

"Baby why are you getting up?" He sounded worried.

"I just want to stand up and see if it we'll ease the pain."

It didn't. You brought a hand to your back as the pain shot through your spine. Ruben was right behind you, jumping out of bed to prevent your fall.

"Thanks." You sighed, your body leaning against his frame.

"Baby please just sit down. I'll go get you somthing for the pain, perhaps a..."

"It's okay, Ruben. I just want to stand for a minute."

"Just stand?" The light from the moon carved out the shape of his face and his frown.

You nodded. "Just stand. Right here. Is that okay?" You liked the sensation of the cold floor underneath your swollen feet. And the view you had of Manchester city out side of your bedroom window wasn't too bad either.

"Do you want me to stand here with you?" Ruben asked, still holding you steady.

"If you want to."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your belly, pulling you towards him so that he could rest his chin on top of your head. You stood in silence, facing the window, enjoying the view of the night.

"Your hair smells good."

You giggled. "Thanks, it's the new shampoo I'm using."

"Can I use it too?"

"If you want to."

He shrugged your body a little, turning you over so that you could see his face. He didn't look happy.

"What?"

"I hate when you say that."

"Say what?"

"If you want to." He mocked your voice.

You chuckled, unsure as to what he was actually implying.

"The answer to my question should be either yes or no not, if you want to."

"Ruben?" You were unsure why he suddenly appeared so upset.

"Try me." He said. "Ask me a question, anything and I'll answer it the way you do. Then you'll see how it feels."

"Okay. Um...what time is it right now?"

"If you..." He paused mid sentence. "Wait. Not that kind of question."

"You said to ask you anything." You laughed. It was cute, his need to always prove a point.

"No, what I meant is, ask me a question where the question can be either yes or no."

"Hmm, alright." You turned your body entirely, your pregnant belly caressing his visible abs.

"Can I kiss you?"

He shrugged. "If you want to."

You weighed on your toes to reach his lips, smiling against them. You still held your arms wrapped around his neck when you dropped back onto your feet.

"Another question?"

He shrugged. "If you want to."

You chuckled. He wanted to play.

"Can you take me for a shopping spree tomorrow?"

He hesitated, but gave a slight shrugg. "If you want to."

"I think I like this game."

He sighed. "I have failed to prove my point."

"Which would be?"

"I don't like it when you don't need me, I need you to need me."

"Oh, Ruben." You cradled each side of his face with your hands. "I do need you. Why would you even say that?"

"Because when I ask you if you need me to do anything for you, you always say the same thing."

"If you want to." You nodded. Hearing the words leave your own mouth made you see how this could be a little upsetting to someone like Ruben, who so often wanted to feel useful to you during your pregnancy.

"I know that you need me." He muttered, his cheeks soft in the palm of your hands. "But I also know that you really don't need my help with anything, at all."

"Can I ask you another question." Your thumb stroked his bottom lip. His eyes were glowing in the night, his lashes flourishing like the wings of a butterfly. He was so handsome, your husband.

"If you want to."

His eyes searched your face, seeing as you were looking everywhere but into his eyes. Once your eyes met again, yours were foggy and longing for him.

"Can you make love to me Ruben?"

His eyebrows fluttered in slight suprise. "What?"

"Make love to me Ruben. " You stood with your bodies pressed together, you could feel him wanting you in that way too.

"Y/N." He said, voice low. And you knew just what was on his mind.

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

"Your back?"

You nodded. "Feel it."

You brought his hand, guiding it down your back, letting him feel the curve of you. But you did not stop there. You kept guiding his hand downwards, not stopping until it reached your lower hip, eventually cupping the swell of your ass.

Ruben brearhed against your ear, fighting his own sinful urges. However you could already feel his need for you, his erection growing towards you, putting pressure against your belly.

"Y/N, I don't..."

"Can you please make love to me Ruben, yes or no?"

He exhaled, defeated by your cleverness to use his own point against him.

"If you want me to." He muttered, voice low but sharp against your ear.

"I wan..."

You gasped as your feet left the ground. Both Ruben's hands went to cup your ass, lifting you up and pressing you back against the window. That's where he left you to sit, on the windowsill, with your legs spread before him.

You wore a loosely fitted nightgown that his fingers clawed up your hip, reveling your naked thighs. His hands then went to tilt your neck, the back of your head knocking against the window.

"Ask me again." He groaned, his eyes barley visible in the dark.

"Fuck me Ruben."

He smiled, "That's not what you asked"

"That's what I want."

He let one hand slip between your thighs, teasing your clit with the tip of his fingers.

"Ruben please, I'm begging you."

"Sshh." He sushed you with a stroke of his finger, the same finger that had just been between your thighs. "I don't want to make it too rough." He said. But he was already sort of grinding his hips against you, his bulge putting pressure where you wanted it the most.

"Ruben, plea..."

He shushed you again, this time by slapping his hand against your mouth. The begging, you know what it was doing to him. It was becoming hard to resist you.

"I said I don't want to make it rough, please don't fight me on this." His stare was intense, eyes glossy yet determined.

You nodded your head which made him trust you enough to remove his hand from you mouth.

"Make love to me then."

His hands went under your knees, scooping you up into his arms. You saw the glimpse in his eye and he winked. "If you want me to."

[rocksibblingsau]

Love love love ur ideas!!!!

Do you have any more headcanons for Mount Rageon Branch or Adopted by Bergens Branch?

In Mount Rageon Branch, Velvet and Veneer are still a lil self absorbed and looking for the easy way out of things. They don't wanna do any hard work, meanwhile Branch is all about hard work and doing things for yourself.

Branch sees them fighting over wanting fame and it reminds him of his brothers, so he makes it his goal to help them realize their dreams AND remain close. Since they'd be training from childhood, they'd have a better shot at learning how to sing thanks to Branch.

I can't decide if they actually do end up good singers but if they do, Branch is their manager and there would be a moment where post BroZone reunion they see Branch managing and have JD flashbacks. Branch doesn't get bad like John did about controlling their image, but the sight of Branch taking charge and giving orders for show prep really reminds them of a less than happy time of their lives.

Branch: Alright guys, we're gonna open with 'Fame' and close with 'Watch Me Work'. No, wait. Open with 'Sweet Dreams' and close with 'Fame'. Now go out there and make Mount Rageous history! Bruce: Clay I hope you're also an EMT because I think I'm having a heart attack. Clay: I'm with you bro, this is disturbing to watch.

If they don't go the singing route, Branch helps them discover SOME sort of skill they can make it big with.

They don't call him 'Branch'. Velvet decided his name had to match theirs so they call him 'Vine'. They think it's a funny name since he's always on them 'like a vine'. Branch doesn't really care what they call him as long as they stop rubbing his hair trying to suck out his "singing magic".

When Velvet and Veneer found out about Bergens, her solution was "Just stay with us at all times. I'll hold onto you like the last designer handbag at a flash sale."

If they did encounter a Bergen, Velvet would hit them in the head with her purse that weighs 10 tons.

In Bergen Branch AU, Gristle is ironically the excitable kid while Branch can barely muster any enthusiasm for anything. Some people joke that it's like Gristle's a troll at heart and Branch a Bergen. Gristle doesn't go as apathetic and listless as he does in canon since I believe the catalyst was Gristle Sr telling him nothing would ever make him happy. Since in this AU he was given Branch, he was told that Branch would make him happy, so he still has hope.

When they're older, Branch is a sort of sarcastic adviser to Gristle. Everyone's kind of figured out that even if you can get one over on Gristle, the troll on his shoulder won't be fooled and he does NOT show mercy. Gristle also takes his opinion in pretty high regard about pretty much anything.

Branch also gets pretty comfortable with his concept of mortality and he makes jokes about being eaten by Bergens constantly.

Gristle: I got another letter asking if they can buy and eat you. Branch: At this rate I'd be tempted to tell you accept all of them and watch their faces fall when they realize fifty other Bergens also get a piece. Gristle: Branch. Branch: A peanut sized serving of grey troll. Gristle: Branch. Branch: That'd probably be the one thing that could make a Bergen more miserable than you already are, if that's possible. Gristle: Branch. I'm not selling you to get eaten by fifty different Bergens. Branch: You'd be doing me a mercy and ending my suffering.

Gristle: Branch I need you to help me with the audit. Branch: *lays on his palm* Eat me. Gristle: Later. For now you have to help me. Branch: F***. Branch: Is this how you derive joy? Making trolls do your paperwork? You're the only Bergen in the world who would make me do taxes instead of eating me. Gristle: You complain too much and it ruins my appetite. Branch: Has any troll ever not complained? Do you think on Trollstice we were all jumping for joy? 'Yippie! Death!' Gristle: I dunno, try it next time and we'll see if it works.

This trait scares and unnerves other trolls. Poppy asks him to stop once they befriend Bergens because she's worried they'll take offense and "They're our friends now, not troll-eating monsters. That's in the past."

"I'd like it to be in the present so I don't have to listen to another musical number."

[thegainingdesk]

So when I wrote the post this reply is from, I was consistently around 250 pounds - weighed in at 18 stone (252 lbs) a fair few times, but not consistently.

Didn't hit 19 stone (266 lbs) by the wedding but sitting very much in the 260s now. Seen 264 a few times, and not seen anything below 260 for a while. So a decent 10 pounds in a few months. I'm definitely hoping to hit 19 stone or more this year.

Not the craziest pace of gaining, but I'm actually really proud of it - over the past few years I've been gaining about 15-20 pounds each year, so half of that and some in a short burst is a nice little boost. I think it's easy to think from gaining stories that gaining is all bottomless appetites and leaps of five, ten, twenty pounds in a month. Realistically, a stone in a year is something that the average member of the public would throw a fit over, and repeating that several times is fairly shocking. If nothing else, the stretch marks I'm getting on my gut and the extra large shirts I've outgrown suggest it's not been too slow.

While I'm here anyway, I might use this as a brief update on my writing. I've got plenty of stories that I've either got the plot outlined for or I've got big chunks written already, but at this point there's so many that if I sit down to write one, I drift over to looking at another and then I'm thinking about that one and nothing ever really gets finished. I basically need to feel a bit of pressure to get one of them written - I don't really want to post a poll, but if people want to message me and chat I'd gladly let them help me decide which I should focus on, and chatting about some of the stories would be really helpful.

[exeggcute]

well it's been almost six months which I think is long enough to break my posting embargo, so, uh: guess what! I got liposuction lol. specifically hip/thigh lipo to quell some pretty wicked dysphoria that stemmed from having such a feminine silhouette… and I have to say I'm really, really pleased with the results.

tbh my initial plan was to keep things under wraps for good which is why I haven't said anything about it yet (and even as I'm typing this up I keep debating whether to post it or trash it)—partly because I was/am worried people might Act Weird about it and partly because I get a little embarrassed talking about bodygendershit in general. but here we are. one reason I do feel compelled to finally share, other than being super happy about how everything went, is that I haven't encountered a lot of discussions about body sculpting as a possible avenue of gender-affirming care (although, to be fair, maybe I just haven't been looking in the right places) and I figured at least one person out there would be interested to learn about what I did and where I've ended up so far.

anyway. pics/details under the cut—nothing even remotely risqué (or yucky), I just know that body image stuff is fraught + not everyone is eager to hear surgery talk.

to be precise: I got tumescent liposuction of the inner and outer thigh, plus this ultrasound thing to help the skin shrink. a different surgeon who I consulted (but ultimately did not go with for a number of reasons) said that even if I got the results I wanted from lipo, which he claimed was unlikely, the affected skin would look loose/baggy/weird forever... and that surgeon was wrong on both counts lol. my elasticity was great bitch!!!!

they didn't take out that much fat overall, only eight pounds or so, but it's way more about the Where than the How Much. my actual surgeon (who kicks ass btw) said lipo isn't that great for weight loss per se, and what it's really good for is sculpting targeted areas—so basically exactly what I did. six months post-op I actually weigh about the same as what I did pre-op, but the distribution has held steady; more weight goes to my stomach now and less, proportionally, goes to my hips since there are fewer fat cells in that area now. so my silhouette retains its new shape!

the overall change is admittedly on the subtle side, since I'm pretty short and have wide hip bones (and you can't change your literal skeleton) but it's still gone a looooooong way. the main thing I requested from my surgeon was "I want to fit in men's pants" and boy did he deliver.

also a good place to note that if you're in the las vegas area looking for a plastic and/or cosmetic surgeon—this guy is board-certified in both btw—then I absolutely have the guy for you. feel free to DM me for details. lipo is clearly his specialty (and it shows!) but he also does a lot of breast revisions/mastopexy (i.e., fixing implants that other surgeons did a bad job putting in), regular implants, and face work (particularly facial feminization surgery). one thing that sold me on this guy was an enthusiastic yelp review from a local stripper who said he hid the incisions for her breast lift in her armpits so none of her clients would notice that she'd had work done... a true master of his craft

okay you've scrolled enough so I'll give you what you're here for lol. I don't have many pre-op pics because I was obviously unhappy with how I looked and was not taking full-body selfies on a regular basis, but here's a few I took ~2 weeks beforehand:

these super thin men's joggers were my go-to dysphoria pants, to the point where I bought five pairs in different colors, but now they're so baggy on me that they have the opposite effect and make it look like I have wider hips than I do. so I retired them from my wardrobe...

...except not immediately because I had to wear compression garments 24/7 for the first three months post-op and these joggers were just loose enough to comfortably wear a medical girdle underneath them at all times, 110° degree temperatures be damned. (not that I was going out much for the first month since I was soooooooooooo fucking bruised and sore lol.) here's a few post-op pics in the same style pants:

(first pic is less than 24 hours post-op, about to go to my follow-up appointment, looking greasy as fuck because I wasn't allowed to shower yet; second pic two days post-op and also post-shower, thankfully; third pic is about a month post-op.)

so, like, CLEAR improvement already. I will not be posting pictures of my black-and-blue-and-swollen-all-over legs but considering how puffy I was from getting internally pummeled with a cannula it's wild that I still saw improvement literally as soon as I came home.

recovery was obviously not a blast in the moment but I got off easy, all things considered. I was supposed to get drains put in and was Not looking forward to that at all lol. the first thing I asked when I woke up after surgery was "how many drains?" because they weren't sure if I'd end up needing two or four, but it turned out the answer was zero. no drains!!!

I did have to lie with my feet elevated for the first two weeks straight, and had major bruising that receded over the first month (you could barely see my regular skin underneath all the mottled spots), but little to no nerve pain, no weird complications, and I was more or less back to normal after six weeks. also noelle took very very good care of me and was brave about injecting me with blood thinners so I wouldn't get clots and die :)

when I went into it I was fully expecting to get huge vertical scars up and down the sides of my legs (and had made peace with it!) but instead I wound up with four tiny incisions like this, each less than two inches long:

what's totally crazy is that the scars are basically Gone now. like even when I'm trying to find them I struggle to locate the ones in the front. I joked to noelle that if someone did an autopsy on me they might not figure out that I'd had cosmetic surgery, especially since the skin on my thighs is back to its normal color and texture. (in this scenario I like to imagine that it's dana scully giving me the autopsy and I'm in an x-files plot where instead of regular lipo I got alien lipo and mulder figures it out purely by accident.)

with lipo it can take up to a year to see the full results but I already feel so much fucking better in my body that seeing old pre-op pics throws me for a loop. and I can absolutely wear men's pants now—pants for short and stocky men, to be fair, but actual regular men's pants and not exclusively Pants For Men With Huge Butts And Legs. which is the only style I could even hope to fit in before. and even then it was a stretch.

big pic dump of shitty mirror selfies taken over the last few months:

:)

(also I really debated sharing this one but I already included it in the yelp review I left my surgeon so fuck it: here's a tasteful before-and-after in my undies where you can see my bare legs for easier comparison. left pic is one week pre-op, right pic is about five months post-op. including it as a link instead of embedding it in the post in case your boss happens to be reading over your shoulder at this very moment. also this is the one and only time you will ever see me stripped down on tumblr dot com so don't get used to it lol.)

[coff-in]

You know that last post about Andy being a reluctant sex maniac? It occurs to me if he really could just bust that hard on a daily basis, he'd probably like to experiment a little with it (maybe in a way that won't put someone in a hospital though). Say maybe you're stuck without food so he makes a, say, special bowl of clam chowder- extra thick and salty, just for you. (No you can't ask how he made it. It's a secret. Shut up. No don't share it with Ashley she can get something on her own.)

Then, by some miracle, you actually like it enough that you might try it again later, and he feels like just hearing that feedback gave his body the express command to refill right the fuck back up with enough for another few batches. Then, if he gets the food needed (probably from a more resourceful [reader] scrounging up some more ingredients) he starts putting it in other things he makes when nobody else is looking- the mayonnaise in your sandwich, the glazing of some rolls, the batter for some pancakes, a special protein shake- you think he's really on a roll with learning new recipes and getting some passion for the culinary arts during these rough days, but at the heart of it he's really just gotten addicted to the thought of filling you up with his jizz.

Somehow I think Ashley would do something similar- though she probably wouldn't be as good at hiding it or being too subtle. If it wouldn't be putting her cum into random things you and Andy had to eat, it'd be her bargaining a random neighbor off to a devil so she can lactate at will, then insisting on pouring you all a nice glass of milk for breakfast each day. And if she ever actually gets to know about Andrew and sees he's also doing funny shit with what you've been serving, she'd egg him on to go further and combine their "resources" to see what they can get away with, and ask for discreet lessons in cooking so she can feed you her own tainted dishes. And you'd be so, so incapable of just turning the two down, because as far as you know, hey, they made it for you! Poor, immature Ashley learned to make something nice from her sweet big brother just to make you happy! You wouldn't turn down a helping of special-made, sugar-glazed, extra-protein pancakes just because they taste a little off sometimes, would you?

notes from coff-in: reluctant sex maniac andrew my beloved <3 you guys don't understand the emotion i felt waking up at 6 o'clock in the morning and seeing that in my inbox. went through several stages of disgusted, amused, and horny. andrew must be tired slinging that huge log between his legs, having everyone tease him about that thick outline in his pants or the round bulge... he could hide it in me if he wants to

[gender neutral] reader-insert, NSFW

if [reader] was like me they'd eat anything edible without question. andrew hands them fucking extra creamy clam chowder and [reader]'s like "aw hell yeah, thanks :)" like NOO??? where tf did he get EXTRA CREAMY CLAM CHOWDER??? and why can't ashley eat any??? wouldn't question anything, just thankful to be eating something while stick in quarantine

the "mayo" sandwich is so funny for that fan service/horny potential because maybe andrew adds too much and when [reader] takes a bite, the mayo just squirts out the sandwich from the other end. they scoop it up with their fingers and then suck it, running their tongue over their fingers going "mmmh! it's kinda salty but it's tastes good!" andrew's watching [reader] eat with wide eyes and feels another batch weighing heavy in his balls, waiting to enter [reader]

i like to think that in this scenario that [reader] is good friends with andrew and ashley. yeah sometimes [reader]'s eyes wander towards andrew's uncomfortably, unreasonably big and needy endowments (never letting that go) but they still like andrew for the cynical english nerd that he is and ashley for the annoying and teasing girl that she is. i think that's how ashley came to think "yeah... i wanna feed them my fluids"

she'd be so teasing about it, hinting that it's "made with love" and it's a "family recipe" while they drink coffer made with her breast milk (maybe it's a breast milk tea for [reader] if they don't like coffee). it's a crazy thought seeing ashley standing over a dead body in the middle of a pentagram talking to a demonic entity "i want to be able to lactate" crazy...

andrew and ashley sneak around the kitchen so they could have their "cooking lessons" while [reader] is sleeping. i think [reader] would try to make them something in return, an honest and genuine attempt at a meal to say thank you to them "i know it's not as good as your food but i really appreciate you guys and the food you've been making me" it touches andrew and ashley's hearts

they get off to the idea of [reader] taking the "special ingredients" straight from the source :3

----

coff-in

[crownmemes]

Concerned Sentences, Vol. 3

(Concerned sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Don’t become part of someone else’s cause or crusade. Pursue your own self-interest. Always."

"My strong recommendation: don't."

"Please, I just want to help you."

"You're not fine, I know. I know because I've been where you are."

"I'm so scared that I've just got you back and now I'm going to lose you again."

"It's been a long time since you've enjoyed any intimate contact."

"That can happen, you know? You can lose."

"I think you're suffering from post-traumatic stress."

"I don't mean to intrude, but you seem to have something weighing heavily on you."

"Don't go looking for something you don't want to find."

"People are starting to worry about you, you know that?"

"Does it ever bother you? Being alone?"

"I've known you long enough to be able to tell when you're lying."

"I haven't convinced you, have I?"

"Please, take care of yourself."

"It's happening again, isn't it?"

"I appreciate your concern, but there's no need for you to get involved with this."

"Are you okay? You seem... Hyper?"

"You think too much."

"You're very quiet. What are you thinking about?"

"Look, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

"You've allowed yourself to be led astray, and there's no hope of finding your way back."

"The internet is not good for you."

"You're being paranoid, even for you."

"Why won't you tell me anything anymore?"

"Why are you so paranoid?"

"You live under this misguided notion that silence is strength. You've built a wall to keep everyone out."

"Where the hell are you going with your mind?"

"Have you ever actually been in a fight?"

"I know you're happy with him, but would you be happier without him?"

"You look peculiar. What's wrong?"

"Oh my god! What happened to you?"

"Why haven't you answered my calls?"

"I fear you've become too dependent on me."

"You realise, of course, that you're just staving off the inevitable?"