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sarahowritesostucky · 8 months

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📖"Blood Moon Rising" pt 5

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: shrinkyclinks, prison au, werewolf au, omega Steve, Alpha Bucky, dub-con, non-con, werewolf sex, knotting, oral (m!rec), hand jobs, held hostage, age gap (40/26), forced mating, violence, bonding, Dom/sub elements

Summary: Steve gets a lot more than he bargained for when a prison riot breaks out and he becomes the captive of an Alpha werewolf.

Author's Note: It got waaay too long for Tumblr, y'all. So this is not the last part

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter! Fic Masterlist

Part 5 - "Blood Moon Horizon"

Well, the jig was finally up.

Steve started showing signs of preheat on a Monday, and by Tuesday, everybody in the village knew. Wolves, Peter explained, could sense these things much, much better than humans could. (Apparently Bucky hadn’t been lying when he’d claimed that he could tell when Steve was ovulating.)

Steve was precisely one day away from his heat—something which was somehow both common and undisputed knowledge amongst the wolves.

Even Steve himself couldn’t have said for sure what day he would hit heat based on his preheat symptoms, but everybody all of a sudden started buzzing around, talking about how tomorrow would be the big day and beginning their preparations for the mating run and celebrations.

Chatter also increased drastically, once word got around that there was going to be a “blood moon” the next night—something which the wolves held sacred. While rare, a total lunar eclipse meant absolutely nothing to Steve, but by now he’d learned that anything involving the moon’s cycle held great cultural and spiritual significance to the wolves. Apparently they viewed the blood moon as an omen of sorts, a rare occurrence symbolizing great change and rebirth; a time to resolve feuds, dump baggage, and cleanse the self. Steve didn’t think that boded well at all for him, but Peter seemed to find it very exciting.

“Holy shit, dude. Mated on the friggin’ blood moon?! That’s baddass!”

Bucky never came back to the cabin that night. And, sure as shit, the wolves were right: That next morning, Steve woke up in heat.

“How’d they know?” he whined at Peter, trying to walk around the camp without noticing every single stare that was directed their way. The pack was deep in preparations for his and Bucky’s mating run that night. There was a big heap of wood being assembled in the nearby clearing for that night’s bonfire—apparently a major part of the tradition—and people were bustling about, setting up logs around the area for seating, decorating with foraged plants, stringing flowers and cooking food and brewing a massive amount of some kind of special werewolf cider. Steve eyed the humongous cauldron dubiously as he and Peter crossed the center of the camp. “Is it just a smell thing?”

“Yeah. And pheromones.”

“But that’s the same thing though, isn’t it?”

Peter tried to find a way to explain how it wasn’t the same thing, how pheromones came across to wolves as less of a scent and more of a sixth sense—something that sat right on the periphery of smell and sight and feel. He told Steve that it was like an ‘aura’. “I dunno how else to explain it, man. But it’s very obvious. You might as well have been wearing an ‘I’m about to go into heat’ teeshirt yesterday.”

Well, now he was in heat, and without the modern convenience of any sort of suppressant products, Steve was fully aware of the itch beneath his skin, the wetness between his legs, and the ever-growing ache that was building, deep and powerful, in his belly. He very sincerely missed his shitty shoebox of an apartment back in New York, where he had a very nice collection of both heat-soothing products and knotting dildoes that he could be using right about now. Instead he was stuck here in Hillbilly-town, USA; uncomfortable, horny as fuck, and suffering through every annoying symptom without recourse.

Of course he had no way of masking any of this from the wolves. Steve had grown up not having to wonder if the 90% beta human population could smell him when he was in heat, and aside from it just being flat out embarrassing that everybody knew, this was also very bad news on a practical level, as now Steve stood virtually no chance of slipping away unnoticed, not when he was lit up like a damn Christmas tree of pheromones. He was so impotently angry at himself over it. He’d had months to try and get away, and now the jig was up. Steve was in heat, he was lit up like a pheromonal beacon to every single person in the pack, and he now had to face the disappointing truth:

He’d waited too long.

He spent the morning skulking around the edges of camp with Peter by his side, impulsively considering running off into the forest multiple times, but discarding the thought each time it came up.

That wouldn’t work. He’d already been shown that it wouldn’t work, each time the wolves dragged him back to Bucky’s doorstep. And that was before he’d been in heat. Steve did his best to seem taciturn and unapproachable, not wanting to deal with the stares and attention of the people in the village. It was awkward as fuck. And he especially didn’t want to be around Bucky.

But that wasn’t something he had to worry about, because Bucky had pretty much been gone ever since Steve first realized he was in preheat, making himself scarce during the day and returning home to the cabin only once Steve was already asleep. He’d been leaving early each morning, too, before Steve woke. In fact, Steve wasn’t even sure if the Alpha had come back to sleep in the cabin at all last night.

He wasn’t gone though: Steve caught sight of him once or twice on the day of the mating run. The village alphas were holding more of their super-secret, alphas-only meetings, and Steve realized pretty quick that there was no way in hell he could eavesdrop anymore, as they knew right away when he was lurking nearby.

“Just go help put stuff together for the celebration,” Dum Dum scolded as he carried Steve away by the scruff and dumped him in the dirt outside the village’s omega yurt. “You’re not supposed to be around each other right now.”

“I need to talk to him!”

“You can talk to him plenty tonight,” Dum Dum said meaningfully. “Look kid, it’s tradition, alright? Like the groom and bride not seeing each other. Just go in there and help with the preparations.”

Steve grunted indignantly as he stood up from the ground, brushing the dust off his clothes. “I’m not a kid, I’m twenty-six. And I’m not his bride. He kidnapped me. Why does everybody just gloss over that part like it doesn’t matter?!”

“Because it doesn’t.” Dum Dum shook his head. “You’re a pill, kid. I don’t know why he wants you, but he does.” Steve glared at him, and Dum Dum narrowed his eyes. “Look, he’s a good man, just trying to do right by his people. He already has to deal with more shit than you know, keeping order in this pack. Don’t go makin’ it harder for him.”

Steve frowned. He knew by now that leadership was fought for amongst the wolves, sometimes brutally. It was hard won and hard kept. It depended on a complex combination of honor, biologically-coded dominance, and sheer brutality, which was why humans so often classified their packs as gangs. But it wasn’t the same. Steve could see that now.

Bucky was a good leader, and though he kept most things very close to the chest, he’d all but told Steve that there were continual challenges to his authority as Alpha. And other people in the pack had made it clear that Bucky being their Alpha was the best thing to happen to the pack in a long time.

From the moment he’d stopped him from stabbing Batroc with a pencil back at the prison, Dum Dum had always looked at Steve like he was a problem, and that’s how he looked at him now, when Steve scoffed at his admonition not to make trouble for Bucky.

Sure, Steve didn’t want to be the reason a bunch of innocent people had their already-hard existence thrown into chaos, but he still didn’t deserve to be trapped here. His jaw worked in frustration as Dum Dum watched him, clearly waiting for an answer. “I’m just trying to get back to my life,” Steve huffed. “I mean what the heck else am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to be in there with your own kind, getting ready for the celebration.” Dum Dum pointed at the yurt, and Steve looked over his shoulder with a scowl.

“They’re not my kind. I’m omega, not a werewolf. And I’m not in this pack.”

“For now.”

“And I don’t want to celebrate.” Steve crossed his arms. “I’m not helping with arranging fucking flowers or whatever the hell they’re doing in there.”

“Then maybe talk to some of ‘em,” Dum Dum suggested, gesturing angrily at the yurt’s door. “Maybe you’ll make a friend. Or better yet, maybe they’ll knock some sense into you.” With that, he turned and left.

And so, Steve found himself inside the camp’s omega yurt: a place about which he’d known, but had steadfastly avoided going inside of until now. It was a big, round structure that served as a communal social space for the pack's adult omegas.

Inside, Steve was surprised to find dozens of cozy bean bag chairs and blankets for nesting. Unlike many of the pack cabins, the yurt had a polished wood floor and was fully modernized inside; with the center of the structure housing the nicest, biggest kitchen Steve had yet seen in the entire village, and the interior smelling richly of baked bread and omega bodies. Steve knew that the pack alphas and betas weren’t really supposed to come nosing around there, as it was considered a private, omega-only space. That was comforting, and on a day when not much else could make him feel safe, that kinda did. At least temporarily.

“Steve!”

“Oh is that him?”

“Yo!”

“Wow, come grab a bag, man. Welcome!”

Over by the beanbag circle, a russet-colored wolf whom Steve recognized as Wanda lifted its head, whining as if in her own form of greeting before flopping back down to lie on the floor and enjoy the ambient heat from the nearby wood stove, just like any other lazy dog might do. Steve smiled despite himself.

He’d been avoiding this place, as he knew that all the other omegas would sit around like Wanda did and try to convince him to be happy with a life in the pack. But now that his fate was rapidly closing in on him, Steve knew he needed to learn as much as he could about what was going to happen that night. He went over to where Darcy was urging him to take up one of the beanbags, and plopped down as she began introducing him to the handful of pack omegas whom he’d seen around camp but never really met.

“—and of course you know Hairy, over there,” she said at the end, kicking her foot in the air in Wanda’s direction.

Beside the woodstove, the wolf briefly wagged its tail and chuffed.

“So then it is a wedding,” Steve concluded a while later, after they’d been talking about the upcoming mating run. He peeked around at the other wolves nearby. Wanda hadn’t moved an inch and looked like she was dozing, Nakia was in another of the beanbags, Darcy in another, and Thor’s mate Jane in the one next to that. Peter’s aunt May was over in the kitchen area, working on making a large sheet cake which Peter had already warned Steve would be very disappointing; and Scott—the only other male omega in the pack besides Peter—was loitering on the kitchen’s periphery, pretending to help with the baking while most of his energy went into trying to sneak tastes of the cake batter.

“I mean, the bonfire’s like the reception,” Steve ventured. “The run is kinda like the, um … the ceremony? I guess? And the bite is like the vow.” He made a face as he said it and rubbed his neck self-consciously, still terrified of the thought of Bucky chomping down on him like that. “And then we’ll be married,” he said quietly, thinking, fuck.

“Mated,” Nakia corrected from over on her beanbag, where she had the coffee table pulled up close as she worked on mixing up a bunch of things in bowls with a mortar and pestle. “Same idea. A bit more permanent, though.”

“And way more fun,” Darcy said with a dirty wink.

She and Jane shared a titter over that, which Steve could only take to mean that they were talking about the sex-part that came at the end. He’d been told all about that, too (though honestly, he’d kind of already figured that there would be a sex-part, once he heard that they’d be doing this whole thing naked). “Yeah,” he said weakly. “ ‘Fun’. Right.”

“Jane got pupped up on the night of her mating run,” Darcy divulged, making Steve’s eyes widen at the thought of the same happening to him. “Maybe you will, too, Steve!”

“Here’s hoping not.” His eyes slid over to Jane, who was using her very pregnant belly as a worktop to thread flowers on a string. “I mean, um, no offense to you or anything.”

“None taken.” Jane looked peevishly over at Darcy. “We don’t know if it was that exact night.”

Jane, Steve had learned, was an unassuming and intelligent woman. She was very pretty and she seemed kind and pleasant to be around. But that wasn’t what intrigued Steve about her. Happily mated to Thor and heavily pregnant with their first baby, she was also one of only two pack members who’d been infected with lycanthropy rather than born with it. She’d lived with the pack for less than a year, was due to give birth soon, and—unlike Wanda—was choosing to remain in her human form for the event. Steve desperately wished he could talk to her alone and ask her all sorts of questions: why she was there, why she’d stayed and let them infect her and—

“Blegh! not me,” Darcy was proclaiming, telling Jane that she was a fool for choosing to deliver the baby in her human form rather than as a wolf. “You’re nuts. All that pain?” She shook her head. “Mark my words, you’re gonna regret it. And I’ll have to be the one there holding your hand while you’re poppin’ those pups out, letting you squeeze my bones until they’re popping out, too.”

Jane smiled privately and put a hand on her stomach. “I want to hold them when they come. I want them to hear my voice, feel my skin.”

“Nuts,” Darcy reiterated.

“Them?” Steve asked. “You’re having more than one?”

Jane smiled and nodded, while Darcy told him about how most omegas had “litters” rather than single babies; two or three pups at a time was considered normal, expected even.

Steve blanched. “But isn’t that … I mean, aren’t pregnancies like that considered high risk?” He looked over at Jane, slightly concerned. “Shouldn’t you guys have access to a hospital and doctors?”

“We’ve got Bruce,” Darcy said.

“And it’s different with wolf pups,” Jane added. “The babies develop faster but come out smaller, and sturdier.”

Morbidly, it occurred to Steve to wonder if the babies came out in human form or wolf form. “So … you’re seriously not worried?”

Jane rubbed her belly serenely. “No. I’m excited.” Steve’s disquiet must’ve still been written on his face, however, because she looked him in the eye and tried to assure him, “You have to understand: birthing is much better tolerated amongst wolves. Much more natural. Complications are very rare.”

“Yeah, even in newbies like her,” Darcy teased, kicking over at the side of Jane’s beanbag. “Werewolf groupies.” Jane scoffed and tried to kick back at Darcy’s beanbag, but she failed and gave up due to how encumbered she was by her belly.

Steve hadn’t missed how close the two women seemed to be. He’d been assuming they were just really good friends all this time, and that assumption persisted right up until the point when Jane asked Darcy when she was “going to stop being such a jerk to Thor and accept his affections already.” Steve squinted, confused for a split second because he thought Thor was the father of Jane’s baby …

“Thor’s been courting Darcy for half a year now,” Jane revealed. “But she’s been playing hard to get.”

Steve was about to ask if there were two guys named Thor in the pack, until he abruptly remembered that the wolves practiced a form of polygamy, and he was encountering an instance of that right now. “I—oh.” He bit back the words he’d been about to say, looking over at Darcy instead, affronted. “You never mentioned you were with somebody.”

“Well I’m not! … Not technically. It’s only been a little while.” She shrugged and tried to play it off nonchalantly, but Steve could still see the hints of a blush on her face. “And anyway, I mean come on, it’s Thor.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s such a flirt. Big old oaf who thinks he’s God’s gift to women, leaves a couple 'a dead rabbits on your doorstep and thinks he's won your heart."

Steve made a face at the thought of animal carcasses as courting gifts. "What, roses were too old fashioned?" he muttered, eliciting a giggle from Jane and a huff from Darcy.

"I'm just saying: a peacock like Thor can stand to wait. He's probably never had to wait and wonder for longer than a day in his whole mighty life, until now.”

“A peacock whom you know you’re going to say yes to, eventually,” Jane needled, turning back to Steve with a sly look. “She thinks she’s playing hard to get. Thinks Thor’s too full of himself or something.”

“That wolf’s ego is far too big for his knot,” Darcy insisted. “I’m just bringing him down a peg. It’s character development. You should be thanking me.”

“For making my mate less insufferable? Or because I have you to look forward to as a sister wife?”

“Exactly.”

“Mark my words,” Aunt May called from over in the kitchen, waving her rubber spatula in the air. “We’ll be having another run within the next few months for you two.”

Jane and Nakia agreed, while Darcy scoffed and insisted that she intended to string Thor along for far longer than that.

Meanwhile Steve was still sitting there, reeling at the stark reminder of how differently these people lived, with their tribal mindset and their polygamy and their weirdly primal traditions. He had to face the reality that he’d long been avoiding: That unless a miracle occurred and he suddenly somehow devised a workable escape plan before that very night, he’d soon be a mated omega, exposed to or infected with lycanthropy, and possibly even pregnant.

The other women in the group talked excitedly about the upcoming night of celebrations, gabbing to Steve of what the traditions were and what he could expect. Everyone would gather for a big, blow-out party around the bonfire, then Steve would be sent off into the woods—naked, in heat, and with a headstart that was purely symbolic in nature. Then, after a short while, Bucky would shift and come after him, a predator tracking his prey in the night.

Steve shuddered to think how pathetically easy it was going to be for Bucky. He’d sniff Steve out and chase him down, pounce on him, bite him, fuck him and knot him and mate him right out in the middle of the forest.

“Doesn’t exactly seem fair,” Steve grumbled, “or comfortable.” It was October now, and though they’d travelled much farther south than where they’d started in New York, Steve still didn’t relish the thought of running butt-ass naked through the woods for any extended period of time. “I’ll freeze out there,” he complained. “And why do I have to be naked?”

“Mates usually run in fur,” Darcy said. “The omega starts in skin and shifts once they’re a ways out of sight—to make the chase harder.”

“Yeah, not exactly an option for me.” Like anything he could do would possibly make this a fair chase. He was doomed.

“Don’t worry,” Jane tried to console him, “I was human when I ran, too. Nudity is so normalized here, nobody bats an eye at you, I promise. And there are plenty of dens out in the forest where he can take you. That’s what Thor did for me. He even made it nice beforehand with all sorts of soft furs and stuff.” She smiled and looked down bashfully. “It was actually really sweet.”

“Dens?”

“Oh yeah. Mostly built into like, rocky outcroppings and stuff. There’s tons of places like that out there.”

Steve pursed his lips. “Yeah, I know.” He’d become well-acquainted with the forest’s inhospitable terrain—mostly during his unsuccessful nighttime escape attempts.

“Those dens are mostly left over, right May? Like when they’d do whole pack runs in the old days?”

In the kitchen, May nodded after chasing Scott off from the icing bowl again. “Yep.”

“The whole pack?”

“Yeah,” Darcy supplied. “Like, not just two people. They’d all do it at once as a group. Any omega who wasn’t mated could run, and then whatever alpha caught you first was who bonded you.”

“What?!”

“This was all a long time ago,” May called over from the kitchen. “Ancient practice.”

“Not that ancient,” Darcy said. “My grandparents did it. ‘Course, back then there were a lot more omegas, and apparently most people went into season at the same time—I know, wild right? That’s why they’d just do it twice a year or whatever, when everybody was in heat. It was like this massive, huge event. Like, everybody looked forward to it and gossiped about it and made bets on it. All the Alphas would try to make secret deals with each other, and the omegas would try to figure out who’d be chasing them, how to get someone onto your scent without being too obvious, stuff like that—Like prom, for werewolves!” She laughed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Steve said.

“Naw. My grandma told me about it. It was a whole thing back in those days. The alphas who had their sights set on someone would come up with all of these grand courting gestures, go out in the forest ahead of time and make dens to try and herd their favorite omega towards.” She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “But then things like consent came into fashion, so.”

“Don’t scare the boy,” May scolded. “He’s still new to all thi—Scott! Get your finger out of that bowl before I take it off!”

“Jesus.” Steve supposed he should at least be grateful that it was only Bucky he had to worry about, rather than an entire pack of horny werewolves. He felt silly about the whole idea of the mating run. As if someone like him stood any real chance at evading Bucky. What a joke. “He’ll probably catch me in the first two minutes,” Steve mourned.

“Naw, you get a thirty-minute head start, remember?” Darcy smirked. “It’ll take him at least three minutes to catch up with you.”

Steve shot her a withering glare. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Don’t worry,” Nakia said. She was still diligently grinding with the mortar and pestle, and she gestured with it. “This will help disguise your scent. It will make for a better chase.” She smiled like that was something Steve should be excited about, and he did try to at least offer her a friendly nod back, aware that there were undoubtedly some massive cultural differences in play.

Nakia wasn’t just a werewolf, she was also African—not African-American, mind you, but straight-up African—along with Okoye and M’Baku, and that freaking terrifying guy who’d done the executions at the prison: Killmonger. They all hailed from some tiny, impoverished country that Steve could vaguely remember having learned about in highschool, but he still hadn’t been able to figure out why the heck they were living with Bucky’s pack in the middle of the Appalachian mountains. When he’d asked Bucky and Okoye before, all they would say was that it was some sort of “outreach program.”

(Not much of an outreach program when the whole pack was running fugitive from the law, though, now was it?)

Steve eyed up the substance that Nakia was grinding in the mortar. “What is it?” he asked dubiously. It smelled earthy and dank, but good; kind of like how fallen leaves smelled in the fall, once they accumulated on the ground and began to rot. If it smelled that strongly to him, what must it smell like to a wolf nose? Steve made a face as he considered it. “Is that … that’s stuff’s not going on me, is it?”

Nakia nodded sagely. “Special Wakandan recipe. Your wolf won’t catch you so easy with this. He will have to hunt.”

“... Great,” Steve said. “Thanks.” Really, he wasn’t so sure if he should bother with using the mystery paste. Would any attempt to evade Bucky at this point make a difference? Or would it just prolong the chase before the inevitable capture?

Steve wasn’t looking forward to finding out.

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breannasfluff · 2 months

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Back from WDW! It was a unique experience and a crazy amount of walking.

Pretty sure I've got art and stories knocking around to be posted...stories would just be on ao3 so follow me there if you want email alerts.

To be honest, the time away from Tumblr was a nice break. Further ramblings below the cut.

Sometimes tumblr feels like high school 2.0; cliques and drama and the expectation of posting constantly to try to get reviews or reblogs. The more "popular" you get, the less you can have an off day, or a differing opinion. I think society as a whole pushes for snap judgements and I've seen it bite people over and over.

I dunno, a lot of it feels shallow after a while; or maybe performative is a better word? It's the internet, most interactions aren't going to be deep, I know. Maybe it's just that the definitions of online community has changed, or is changing.

But I've made some good friends here who still check in and reach out, and those are the relationships I want to make sure get my time and effort. The week away with family really drove home the difference in interaction and got me thinking.

I'm not sure I've got a good conclusion at this point; maybe just continuing to spend less time on tumblr and more time on irl pursuits. Either way, my inbox remains open and you are welcome to tag me, although I can't promise to respond to all tag games :)

Take care of yourselves, lovelies! Drink water, pet an animal, take a deep breath outside and smell the earth. Reach out to someone you haven't talked to in a while. Accept that maybe what you are doing is enough. Try to approach people with kindness. It's effort, but it's worth it.

#bre bites

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inevitably-johnlocked · 11 months

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Loki S2 Pre-E6 Thoughts

So I know that this is totally random content to give to y'all this morning, but I wanted to post up my thoughts about the series before its final episode airs tomorrow. I have, in the past, talked about my thoughts on S1 and how I really did like it until the last 5 minutes of Episode 6 and how out-of-nowhere-forced the Sylvie/Loki kiss felt (I was physically cringing about it).

Given how S1 ended, I was a bit wary about S2, but decided to watch it anyway, and holy hell I think Season Two is KNOCKING it out of the park. I'm loving it as much as I loved Moon Knight, and it's right up there now in my top 5. The episodes are SO cinematically beautiful, well written and flow nicely, the characters are all so charming, and the Mobius/Loki relationship is being built up so much that it COULD lead to more or canonization in the final episode. During the past 5 weeks, I've been lurking on the meta spaces for Loki on Twitter and Tumblr, and wow the nostalgia I feel for it, it SO reminds me of the hey-day of my Johnlock meta-ing before S4.

I think my only gripe right now with this season is that they wasted Sophia DiMartino... her character Sylvie feels like such a... filler character (like they just put her in there because she was in the first season and they didn't know what to do with her this season)? But I think ALSO she's meant to be a counter-mirror to Loki, to show that he ISN'T like her anymore, that he grew and changed for the better with the positive influences in his life, and unlike her he doesn't WANT to be alone and such. And they're REALLY making her so unlikeable this season for me... I'm glad that it's looking like they're pretty much not going the Sylvie/Loki route (and I honestly don't see how people who ship it think it will canonically turn around at this point), but the showrunners are having her have every interaction between her and Loki rather hostile, demoralizing, or toxic. And rather that, they're countering it by showing a more positive alternative for Loki with Mobius as his potential romantic partner. Which is fantastic because I've shipped Lokius since Mobius came on the screen in S1, LOL. I just think they could have done that in S2 without making Sylvie an unlikeable character (like have her be a cheerleader for them instead?) I dunno. It's a shame because I did like her in S1. Don't like her at all in S2. She's so MEAN to EVERYONE. To Mobius especially, like CHILL girl, let a man stress-eat, JEEZ.

And here's the rant I actually wanted to write this post about because I didn't want to clutter up other people's threads with it: So, every week, I usually watch breakdowns and review videos so I can understand the characters and their comic counter parts a bit better, and usually the breakdowns are really good because they show the nods to comic-canon things and such. But OMG these past two weeks, I had to stop watching the reviews because LITERALLY all of them ship Sylvie/Loki and are trying SO hard to prove that it's canon when the past few weeks it's only been more and more likely that it's not happening.

NONE of Big Name Reviewers (NRS and SC specifically, if ya know you know) acknowledged AT ALL the RIDICULOUS amount of romantic tropes and dopey staring that Episodes 4 and 5 had (Loki watches Mobius through a window the first time he finds him, and the second time before going to talk to Mobius again Loki LITERALLY groomed himself and then stutters like a lovesick teenager. It was very rom-com; and they're skirting around the fact that all the empty places in the TVA that Loki kept slipping to were ALL places that Loki tshared time with Mobius in... I CAN GO ON FOREVER HERE, AND AND AND that Loki is constantly panicking if he can't find Mobius). LIKE. NONE OF THE REVIEWERS, who literally break down all the episodes and point out shit like All That for het-ships, just won't acknowledge any of it!! They glossed over both Loki's and Sylvie's bisexuality confirmations in S1, and only briefly mentioned their genderfluidity in the comics and in actual mythology. I usually watch the breakdowns because I'm not familiar with comic lore so I find it interesting to learn about those backstories, as well as little details they find, but they've been dropping the ball ALL season, and EVERY one of them mention EVERY single breakdown that Loki just wants to get back to "his one true love Sylvie!!", like what are you smoking?!?!? I was getting SO FRUSTRATED because they skipped over LARGE chunks of E5, especially, just pointing out the surface level stuff instead. I literally turned it off after all that.

THAT ALL SAID, since episode one it's been clear that Sylvie wants NOTHING to do with Loki – she just wants to live a quiet simple life. Then when shit goes bad, she blames Loki for all the problems SHE caused, shits on Mobius every chance she gets, and then in that bar scene when Loki's bearing his soul to her, telling her that he wants his friends back and DOESN'T want to be alone, she basically is like "tough titties" and leaves him ALONE, showing she's not a friend at all.

But the reviewers literally just gloss over all of this. ANYWAY.

Ugh, sorry about that, that's been eating at me for like 3 weeks and last week's reviews finally just pissed me off so much because even casually watching the show I could see all this shit. I only REALLY started believing Lokius could happen after Episode 4 aired, and then Episode 5 had me reeling.

I am DYING to write meta about every episode as it comes out... I just feel that other people are writing better stuff than I could, and much faster than I have time for, and really it's nice to be on the reader side of things for a change. I just... don't want to add in my own two cents to their posts because I'd feel I'm intruding, is all.

I have lots of hope about where Episode 6 will go... like I'm feeling pretty good about them canonizing Lokius... However... I'm not gonna be disappointed if it doesn't get canonized simply because this is Disney and I am REALLY not thinking they're going to explore Loki's comic-canon genderfluidity and sexuality on a surface level.

Good thing I eat subtext for breakfast LOL. I lived through BBC Sherlock, hahah. BUT... can I get a third ship canonized in one year??? Is it wishful thinking? Oh, for sure. I hope so. I would be so happy if Disney even ACKNOWLEDGED that they love each other But I'm not expecting it. I'll be happy with another hug at least, or a forehead touch or hand holding. I'm a simple gal.

Honestly though, I do inevitably want the last episode to have Loki as the ruler with his friends, because they built up to this for 12 episodes, I DON'T want an unhappy ending for the sake of a twist or whatever. Truly let him be the Loki Who Remains (a callback to Episode One) as the Keeper of Time with Bea, O.B., Casey, and Mobius at his side <3

I LOVE the character development of Loki in this series, too. I legit didn't really care for Loki all that much in the MCU, but this series did the same to him for me that FatWS did to Bucky for me: Make me want to see MORE of them and their adventures with their new friends.

Anyway, thanks for reading and indulging me, I mostly just needed to get that rant out about reviewers and wtf people still think Sy!ki is happening. Feel free to discuss in the notes, I plan on posting a reblog with final thoughts after it airs on Thursday <3

#my ramblings #loki spoilers #loki s2 #not sherlock #my thoughts #marvel #lokius #long post #i love writing meta #just don't think people like reading it anymore #shitposting steph #some negativity in this post too sorry

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year

Note

AITA for wanting to stop talking to a friend who's in crisis Ok I know how the title is going to make me look but please hear me out: I met this friend group back in 2021-ish and have gotten to know everyone pretty well. They're all nice people and like most people struggle with various degrees of mental health. One person in particular has been going through a bunch (cat got lost, mother has terminal illness, etc.) and I've been talking to them to hopefully provide a break from all their struggles. Problem is that they're a really, really dry texter and will just vent to me unprompted sometimes. Most of our conversations go with us saying hi and how are you. Then when I ask them "Hey what did you do today?" they say "Not much" or "I dunno" and then ask me what I did that day, ask for hugs, or just to tell them that things will be alright. I don't mind the "Not much" part as I definitely have days where I don't do much. However it does feel super repetitive and almost like a "Why did you message me in the first place?". On top of that I try to move the conversation forward past whatever they're dealing with and they never respond back or they barely have anything they want to talk about. When I try to ask about their hobbies or what they're currently doing I get very short answers or they just stop responding entirely. Same for when I try to tell them about what I'm doing. Personally I've been in mental health crisis situations and have my own mental issues to deal with, so I understand going to a trusted friend for comfort and I'm 100% fine with talking to those in need of support. I'm just absolutely struggling to help them or talk to them if they barely seem interested in continuing the conversation past the basic "Hi! How are you?". It's gotten to the point where I absolutely dread getting DM's from them and I hate that it's gotten to that point. They're super nice and a good person, but I just don't have the energy to carry out a barely there chat with someone who seems highly uninterested in talking about anything.

So Tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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who-canceled-roger-rabbit · 6 months

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You know that post about flipping the early-'10s trope of "children's cartoon reimagined as grimdark trauma porn" (like "Ed, Edd, and Eddy are ghosts" or" Rugrats is Angelica's delusional imagination")or by reimagining gritty media as children play-acting? Breaking Bad is kids daydreaming about what their chem teacher does in his spare time, Game of Thrones is a tabletop fantasy campaign with a ruthless GM, etc.

One idea I had is Reservoir Dogs as petty Tumblr drama where a circle of friends with a shared color-coded blog naming theme and "Be Gay Do Crimes" mindset start freaking out because one of them is an undercover cop who reported them all for, I dunno, pirating some media or other?

They find out Marvin Nash (not a member of their group, but moderately Tumblr Famous) is also a cop

Blonde (who runs an edgy anti-cop blog but is really just the type of keyboard warrior who's only in it to pick fights) starts spamming Marvin with furious asks like "FUCKER DO YOU KNOW WHO REPORTED ME FOR PIRACY" until Orange, an admitted Dramatic Gay Disaster who probably reblogs a bunch of Marina Diamandis Electra Heart content from his transfem coquette blogger friend Mia Wallace, reports Blonde to staff and gets him banned

Nice Guy Eddie, who has "proshippers DNI!" in his blog description and whose dad Joe is on staff, pulls strings to get Marvin banned too

The remaining Dogs harass each other off Tumblr until only Orange and White are left. Orange confesses that he was the cop, at which point … well it's not clear what exactly went down between them, but they both deleted their blogs in a tearful rage

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duraznita-frescante · 1 year

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🌱 — “and then we’ll have breakfast in the morning.”

⇒ regressor! grian & cg! mumbo

⇒ word count: 994

⇒ summary: the night mumbo tells grian he’s taking a break

…

🌿 — my first tumblr fic hee hee this was written soooo long ago but I fixed it up some and I think it still holds up. just some good ol hurt comfort short and sweet. enjoy!!!

“What do you mean you’re leaving?”

Mumbo let out a shaky sigh.

“Not for forever, just… Just for a while,” he tried.

“That’s not— where? Where could you possibly go?” Grian asks frantically.

“There’s much more out there than Hermitcraft, Gri, I want to see it, I need something different,” he tries to explain what he barely understands himself.

“But— But…” Grian is overwhelmed, Mumbo could see it clear as day and he knew his birdy would be as well.

“I’ll be back, I promise. I just need to clear my mind, work on myself, by myself,” Mumbo tried, not sure if he even fully believed himself .

“When?” The winged man asked with a slight bite in his tone. He didn’t mean it, Mumbo knew he didn’t mean it.

“Tomorrow night,” he answered as if it were an apology. It was just long enough to get everything sorted but short enough that he wouldn’t change his mind from now until then.

Grian’s face screwed up in that particular way that Mumbo knew what was to come. He came close to quickly crashing little, barely opening his arms before being crashed into, wings enveloping him on either side. Soft sniffling followed shortly after.

“Don’t keep your sad in, darling, you know I don’t like it when you hold back the tears,” Mumbo sighed, tugging Grian up and into his arms. The poor thing clung to him and let out choked cries.

“It’ll be okay, sweet thing, I promise,” He comforted.

Grian shook his head into Mumbo’s shoulder, “It can’t!” He cried.

Mumbo smiled sadly. So dramatic, he would have said if Grian’s dramatics were not so sincere as they were now.

“Yes, it can, darling, and it will. You have so many friends here to be with you and take care of you,” Mumbo began to choke up as well.

A selfish, cowardly part of him had hoped that he didn’t have to deal with this part. That he wouldn’t have to go through the hurt of explaining to his baby that his caregiver was leaving for a very long time. But as much as it would hurt him, he knew it would hurt Grian about a hundred times more.

“They’re not you! I need you.” Grian was a mess after that, all snot and tears.

“I know, I know,” Mumbo responded softly. The little was far too small and upset to listen to reason anymore. Every little hiccup for air and rough sob made him want to take it all back, tell his birdy that it was all a cruel joke and that he’d never do such a horrible thing as leave his birdy all alone.

But he couldn’t. Not for Grian. Not for himself.

“You want a bath? Hm? When was the last time you groomed your wings?” Mumbo began to ask as Grian’s sobs turned to harsh hiccups.

“Um… I— I dunno…” the younger mumbled.

“That’s alright, let’s get you all nice and clean for bed,” Mumbo walked them both over to their master bathroom, setting a now regressed Grian down on the toilet lid, and began to run a warm bath for his birdy.

Grian whined as Mumbo took his time checking the water temperature, leaving his side.

“Oh, we can’t have that, shh…” Mumbo stood over the younger and held his face gently with his hands, rocking slightly to try and calm the little best he could. Once the water was getting near the top, he shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his button-up.

“Ready?” He asked quietly.

Grian silently raised his arms in response, allowing Mumbo to undress him and place him in the bath with no fuss. Very uncharacteristic of the little, but Mumbo wouldn’t comment, he’s sure he has plenty on his mind right now. He took his time scrubbing over his partner as this would be the last time for a while. And oh that hurt so much to think about.

“Close your eyes, darling,” Mumbo directed just as he had hundreds of times before. Grian quickly screwed his eyes shut, not wanting any water to run into his eyes. And just like hundreds of times before, Grains wings fluttered behind him as the water ran over his face, a deep-set instinct that never failed to make the both of them giggle. And today was no different, Mumbo sputtered as he was splashed with water and Grian laughed as if getting his caregiver soggy was the funniest thing in the world.

“You always do this! I don’t know why I think it’ll be any different!” Mumbo exclaims with a smile.

“You should have just come in here with me, then your clothes wouldn’t be ruined,” Grian shoots back, obviously ageing back up a bit enough to say full sentences without bursting into tears. But Mumbo knew better than to assume he was big again. He also knew that Grian was most definitely taking the “suppress my feelings until the problem is gone or until I physically cannot anymore” route to cope with his announcement of leaving.

Mumbo wondered if he could even help him through that before he left, but he severely doubted he could. He’ll have to talk to Xisuma about it, to make sure Grian doesn’t spiral.

“My clothes aren’t ruined, just a bit damp,” Mumbo explained carefully, not wanting to say anything to upset his little one any further. The wrong amount of teasing might just push him over the edge and devolve into tears once again.

Eventually they finished up and Mumbo wrapped Grian in a fluffy towel and they spent the rest of the night sitting together by lamp light. Just as the oil began to burn up and the flame was about half as bright, a quiet voice piped up.

“Don’t leave,” it begged.

“I’ll be right here all night, Gri,” the other responded.

“And then?”

“… and then we’ll have breakfast in the morning.”

#mcyt agere #agere writing #hermitcraft #cg! mumbo #r! grian #age regression #sfw agere #mumbo jumbo #grian #requests open #<< see pinned!!!#nita writes

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massharp1971 · 11 months

Text

20 questions game

thanks for tagging me @logicgunn 1. How many works do you have on AO3?

70 - disappointingly, it's no longer 69

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

709,395

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Stargate Atlantis exclusively at the moment.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Ace

Clear blue skies

Settle

Couldn't order a pizza

Bodyswap

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always. Because comments mean a lot to me. Because I don't tend to comment on fics where the commenter doesn't respond because I assume they're not reading them, and because it just feels plain rude not to.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Like the deserts miss the rain because it's about Rodney in The Last Man and it breaks my heart. It's only 200 words but it hits hard.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I dunno they all end pretty happily cos real life is hard

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Surprisingly no, considering other writers have fared badly for writing main SGA characters as trans but a large chunk of this fandom boycott me/avoid me for being vocally anti-racist and concerned about oppression, which is in some ways very disappointing but it sure keeps my life nice and peaceful not having to deal with bigots.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes, I write the mushiest kinky smut you'll ever read and I feel like it might be my calling 🤣

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not really but I did write a Brokeback Mountain fix-it fic with John/Cam instead of Jack/Ennis

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Probably not

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No but would be made up if someone did

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I'd love to but never have

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

McShep.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

My Untitled Trauma Fic which is full of so much angst I balk at anyone reading it

16. What are your writing strengths?

Smut, probably. Possibly dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Following the completely arbitrary writing rules amateur writers make up, share on Tumblr, and think are literary commandments. Descriptions, also. I just forget they're needed and go back and am like "but where are they having this conversation and what are they doing whilst they have it, Mas? Hmmm?"

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Wouldn't have the confidence in google translate and don't know any other languages...

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I wrote a novel in my teens that used The Wood Between Worlds from CS Lewis and then I wrote a very silly Fourth Age Orc Reform Group fic once but really SGA got me into this malarkey in my 40s....

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Atlantis Pride - my little declaration of independence when I decided to stop caring about being too queer for this fandom and do what I damn well please.

Tagging: @spacecadetdhdly, @gingerpolyglot, @nimuetheseawitch, @wonkyelk and anyone else. If you like to do these, consider yourself tagged!

#sga #mcshep #fanfic

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scs-blog-of-lore-and-prompts · 4 months

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Beauty and the Beast Swapped AU

Okay, first of all, use this for whatever you'd like, (actually stories or fanfictions, idc), but make sure to give credit to me, please. Just say like Soul_Catcher from Tumblr created this, and if you could put like a link, (which is completely optional), that'd be really nice of you. Because I'd love to make more ideas like this for you guys to use! Okay, onto my explanation of the au...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Basically, the person who is supposedly the “beauty” is the one stuck in the castle and trying to find someone to love to break the curse (where if they don’t find someone before the flower petals all fall off, they’ll die). And the “beast” is an ordinary guy/girl (if you wanna make it gay) living in the village. They either are really, really, really, really strong, or they’ve caused some problems in the village. They go to the castle in the middle of the woods, because they hear that their father is stuck there, for some reason. (I don’t know if the “beauty” will be able to threaten them into staying, but they surely will be able to get the guards to drag the father into the dungeons.)

So, yeah, the “beast” goes into the forest in search of their father, and they come upon the castle overlooking a lake. (This is optional, but you can add them spotting the “beauty” standing on the castle’s front balcony, overlooking the forest, looking quite sad.)

The “beast” goes to the castle, thinking that it can’t hurt to ask the “beauty” (not that the “beast” knows that that’s the person they’ll be marrying in the future…) if they know where the “beast’s” father is.

The “beauty” tells the “beast” that they’ve just captured an old guy, so they ask the “beast” if they want to see if the old guy was their father. The “beast” says yes, with hope.

The “beauty” lets the “beast” into the castle and takes them down to the dungeon. The “beast” recognizes their father and asks for him to be let go.

The “beauty” thinks and realizes that this is an opportunity to break the curse, so they propose a deal that if they let the “beast’s” father go, the “beast” will have to stay here at the castle with the “beauty”.

The “beast” thinks it over, and agrees, because their father is old and frail (I guess), and can get sick easily, especially in cold places (like the dungeon).

So the “beauty” lets the “beast’s” father go and immediately commands for a banquet to be prepared.

I’m not gonna go into the rest of the story, so it goes pretty much the same as the movie, except the places are swapped (the beauty is stuck in the castle, and the beast is in the village). (If you couldn’t tell, I got too lazy to keep using the quotations.)

Until the part where the supposedly (in the movie) the “beast” almost dies. I was thinking that the “beast” would be the one dying in this au. So, basically, the mob heard from the returned father about how his son/daughter/the “beast” (if your character is a different gender then both of those/uses different pronouns) was trapped in a castle in the middle of the woods. Sure, the village wouldn’t care at first, but then they remember all of the great memories they had with the “beast”, and somewhat unwillingly go into the forest to save the “beast” from the “beauty” who, they heard from the father, can use sorcery and magic (they really can’t, they are just really, really, really, really, really, really, really pretty).

Someone in the mob shoots the arrow? Sword? I dunno, at the “beauty” while they’re standing on their balcony overlooking the forest, with the “beast”. By this point in the story, the both of these have fallen in love, but they just don’t know how to tell the other yet. So, the “beast” notices the flying arrow? Sword? (I don’t remember, it’s been a while since I’ve last seen the movie) and the “beast” steps in front of the “beauty” taking the blow from whatever it is that came flying at them. The “beast” falls to the ground, bleeding out from the blow, and the “beauty” falls to the ground, trying to help them.

The supposedly “Gaston” from the mob (I completely forgot about him, also in this story, you can have a girl or boy or some other gender for “Gaston”) climbs up to the balcony (no they did not go through the castle, they climbed up the side) and reaches the “beauty” and the “beast”. (This is a whole other twist to the story, for some reason, because it won’t make sense if I have the “beauty” kiss the “beast” and the “beast” will magically return back to life, like in the movie.)

When “Gaston” lands their eyes on the “beauty”, they instantly fall in love with the “beauty”. (Yes, just like the movie.) “Gaston” tells the “beauty” that if they marry “Gaston”, “Gaston” will take the “beast” to get treated for their wounds. The “beauty” reluctantly agrees, because we still need more trauma and sadness before the big happy ending…

Anyways (don’t you mean anygays? Okay, I’ll try to shut up now), on the day of the “beauty” and “Gaston’s” wedding, the “beast” hears of it and immediately storms into the church, interrupting the wedding right as the “beauty” and “Gaston” were about to say their “I do's”. The “beauty” runs down the aisle, to the “beast” and falls into their arms, crying happily that the “beast” is alright. The “beast” hugs them back.

“Gaston”, angered from whatever this is (I dunno what to call it; “happy reunion”, maybe?), storms over there and attempts to drag the “beauty” back to the stage? (I dunno) so that they can finish their wedding vows and stuff. The “beast” pulls the “beauty” behind them, shielding them from “Gaston”.

This is the part when the crowd realizes that the “beauty” and the “beast” are happy with each other, and soon rebels against “Gaston”. They manage to kick the angered “Gaston” out of the church, and the wedding continues on, but with the “beast” in “Gaston’s” place.

Yeah, they finish the wedding, and live happily ever after, in the “beauty’s” castle in the middle of the woods, with the “beast’s” father as well. Yay. That’s the end.

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I'm perfectly fine if you wanna make it gay, lesbian, or straight in the story, that's why I use quotations and the pronouns them/them for the characters. I tried to stick as close to the original as possible, while having the positions switched. Anyways, enjoy, and don't forget to credit me! ;) (Also, send me links to the stories you create with this au, I'd love to see them. I might make something with this au to post on my Quotev, but that's for another day...)

#writing prompt #au #alternate universe #fanfic aus

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fizzingwizard · 4 months

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Well I'm back... I took an unexpected four day Internet break because my router broke down. At least that's what I think happened.

At first I thought I'd used too much wifi (I had a cheap-o plan that always got throttled after watching like one long video on Youtube lol), but the speed was way, waaaaaay slower than any limit I've been hit with in the past. I couldn't load any website without hitting refresh about a hundred times and then it would load in pieces, and if it had video or images (like youtube or tumblr) it was 100% a no go. Couldn't even log into email. If I finally reached the login page, the signal would be lost while sending through my credentials, and then it'd be an hour before the page would load for me to try again... Absolutely nightmarish

Anyway, it couldn't have been the throttling. Then I thought maybe it was some kind of maintenance in my area?? Because I'm never had a problem here before in six years. Or someone who moved in was a real wifi hog...? But even that seemed impossible. Again, never experienced anything like it...

But it just seemed so weird that it could be hardware issue! Because I took my router (which was a portable kind) to work with me twice, and it worked just fine out that way. Only in my apartment it refused to move faster than a snail. I really thought it had to be a signal issue.

Conveniently, I also don't have a working phone right now. I was planning to use the internet to buy a new one on an installment plan... and then lost internet bahahah. So I couldn't call my ISP about the problem either.

So today, day five of no internet, I took the router to a store that sells the same plan, and they had no idea either (even after calling the ISP themselves), but thought it must be the hardware. And although I was a little skeptical, they did confirm that the signal should be fine in my area, and they also told me about new plans that cost the same as my old one but are waaay better. No throttling!!! Of course I was sold on that haha. I love the idea of actually being able to use the internet in the evenings during "peak" hours (still can't quite believe it... this is my first week to test it so fingers crossed!). So even if they'd been able to fix my old router, I guess I'd have bought this new one anyway.

It took three hours to get it though. Partly because I'm a foreigner and the order of my name and my middle name scared them haha. But they were super nice and helpful to me the whole time and took care of everything. I came home, plugged everything in, and voila, perfect internet. I got a non-portable unit this time because it's got a lot more power. I had the portable one originally because my job involved a lot of traveling, but I left that job years ago and just kept the portable router because it still worked, and my habit is to keep things until they literally fall apart on me xP I'm very much hoping to be amazed by what the non-portable one can do...

Dunno how I'm gonna make it through the backlog on my dash but I'm so happy to be online again~

#fizz's life #computar

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peligrosapop · 1 year

Text

I can’t sleep and have a headache, I’m in pain and sober ( weed would help 2/3 at the least)for some stupid reason. So, I’ll rant.

I went skating (as in skateboard) yesterday

did my first ever 50-50 trick (skate trick) at 40

but also pulled a muscle in my upper thigh and I’m limping a bit and it hurts. (Hi, It’s me, Pedri without free accessible healthcare)

A girl flirted/hit on me and I can’t thinking about it bc, maybe I liked the attention? and she’s cute? I get plenty of attention at home though, dunno wtf is going on.

I forgot to call my mom on her bday but I called her today and we talked like an hour and it was nice. I like my mom a lot. I don’t want her to die, ever. My dad’s death anniversary was last week and I just realized yesterday. None of us surviving family members said anything either, guess we rather forget.

The call with mom also made me realize I barely call anyone anymore, ever. Last time my older sister called I didn’t pick up and have ghosted her since. I told my mom I’m being anti social atm. I need to call my pregnant younger sister. I guess I’m the asshole.

I text with a lot of people that I don’t know IRL and have neglected a lot of my IRL friends. I even have neglected online friends I like a lot. I still chat people a bit too much, I’m afraid.

I think my current obsession with Barça on tumblr and tumblr in general helps me focus on something else but myself when I’m stuck creatively or emotionally.

I need to finish writing 4 songs that I started and are almost done. One about staring at your crush, one about dreaming of people that have passed away, one about Messi (in the most non-obvious way) and one about leaving everything behind to move somewhere else to remake your life. It is annoying to feel like I can’t when I’m perfectly able to. They are 80-90% done.

Right now I’m in between jobs doing some gigs and the break in routine and extra time to do fun stuff things has been , instead of being liberating, weird.

My fav girl friend has been really busy lately and I fucking hate it. I feel needy. And I hate it.

My boyfriend is amazing, thank god he’s there. My bff. I am a mess rn. He was trolling me a week ago saying “I read this list of symptoms of depressed people and you checked out most of them” and I laughed at him and he was like 😅. I’m not depressed. It’s okay. I have depressive tendencies from anxiety but that’s it. I’m a hedonist most of the time, anyway. 🤣 Very few fucks given but active existencial dread.

My health/body has been changing since I hit 40 and it’s pissing me off. Also I kinda stop caring care of myself for a second but getting back on track. Also need to start saving money for all the “hey you hit 40 so you may have this” health test, like cancer screenings and shit. But hey, better old than dead.

and….I need a hug. And to write poems but they won’t come out. I don’t need anyone to do anything. I just need to get it out of my system.

I wish you were here and not so far away, you know this. I punched my pillow today like I told you I wanted to. I wish it was easier.

We had a friend as a house guest for a week and he just left today without telling us, even though he was supposed to be here 2 more weeks and now he said he is with a dude we don’t talk to anymore. lol wtf is wrong with people?! can’t they be normal?!!!! You can say you wanna go see a friend, why just disappear and tell us a one like text when we asked where the fuck you are. He may come back? I dunno ahahahah. Maybe its our bad for having a bunch of moody musicians as friends.

Also, like my bf jokes all the time….when I die, be happy for me because I won’t have to pay any more bills.

Maybe this was too real but IDGAF. The end.

#mental health rant #buenas noches

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

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Happy Anniversary, Aspen! I’m so happy you joined tumblr and I have this opportunity to interact with you and read your wonderful stories 🥰🩵 now, can I please have a Truth for Sacrificial? That fic haunts me to this day 🥴 how did you come up with a Minotaur? What inspired you? Would you ever consider a sequel 👀

First, thank you for the ask, Suz! I'm kind of in love with you asking because, Sacrificial definitely has a story!

I'd been up at my parents' house for dinner and games for my mom's birthday, and I was fueling up gas for my drive home of about an hour. I was scrolling through probably tumblr, I'm pretty sure, and came across this:

AND WHEN I TELL YOU

THAT HIT ME IN THAT MOMENT SO HARD

AND I JUST

I WAS OVERRUN WITH THE THIRST, AND I NEEDED TO SCREAM AT SOMEONE I KNEW WOULD JUST UNDERSTAND/GET THAT

AND SO I SCREAMED @rookthorne

AND SHE SCREAMED BACK

Like. Literally.

Content Warning: I'm going to share some of that now under the cut, and then as I kinda go into detail over the inception of this smutty story, keep that in mind and scroll past if terato/monster fucking is not your thing.

I have removed ... haha ... some of the dialogue to protect the innocent (haha, we're not innocent, but...yeah), but I'm keeping the development:

Aspen: The way, I just want a giant monster to devour me carnally Aspen: Not too particular about what kind of monster or demon Lana: fucking amen Aspen: It’s fine Aspen: Maybe my first week of Hot Bucky Summer with lingerie needs to be a human sacrifice for some demon or monster… or maybe a centaur Bucky with a wood nymph… Lana: oh - size kink go brrrrr Aspen: or maybe Minotaur Bucky Lana: I dunno both are fucking divine Aspen: I feel like a centaur would be more charming, but logistically not as fun to write for the sex Aspen: Minotaur who initially seems terrifying, and or repulsive, but because of the way, he fucks you, and whispers the most, will be possessive things in your ear… You end up, letting him willingly ruin you Lana: THIS IS KILLING ME

And then Lana DID figure out some very nice logistics for the Centaur sex situation, so then I was really about half and half. But then as my mind continued to spin possibilities, this thought hit me…

Aspen: Minotaur Bucky is it going to fuck the reader's throat Lana: OOF FUCK Lana: okay Aspen: I just feel like that’s definitely what he would do. Especially if she has been given up as a sacrifice from the nearby townsfolk of the village. Lives up to the expectations of terror… But then it turns out he’s going to treat her so well in the end Lana: "You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself." Lana: OKAY WE WENT EITHER WAY THERE Lana: OOF Lana: MAYBE Lana: maybe he is brutish in the beginning... because he knows the villagers are watching 👀 Lana: cos they wanna make sure he takes to her [editorial clarification: they’re watching because they want to make sure he takes to reader as the sacrificial lamb] Lana: I am sorry I took that and ran with it 🤣🤣 Aspen: No, this is true, where my brain is going to… Perception of a brutal fucking monster who is terrifying to everyone so that no one bothers him and the reader that he takes away. Aspen: He will still be rough and brutal with her because he’s a monster, but he will also worship her in private and the aftercare for his pet/mate is ELITE.

So by the time I had an hour to think about the story, I knew most of what I wanted. It was the last ten minutes of the drive when I started to think okay...who is this reader and when and where is this happening? I needed her to have reason to have been even on the radar and able to have this happen, and I didn't want her to just be a pushover, and so that idea of her being a research scientist - a botanist, especially - who would have applied for a grant/fellowship? And the town could vet for a candidate that they thought would be perfect for their ritualistic sacrifice to the terrifying Minotaur to keep their village safe?

BECAUSE I CAN RARELY BUILD A PORN WITHOUT A PLOT TO GO ALONG WITH IT

I mean... I cold do it...

I could...

BUT WHERE'S THE FUN IN THAT?!

Okay, so back to that night.

I did a little research for geography. I had this idea that I wanted it to be in South America because of the wilderness/mystery that's still a reality with the Amazon, but even though I was going to write about a MINOTAUR AND THAT'S DEFINITELY A FICTIONAL CHARACTER, I wanted to be true to the lore for the kind of places you could/would find a minotaur. If I'm going to write fiction, I don't want there to be something that gives my readers qualms for suspending the disbelief that I need them to suspend in order to go on the rest of the journey with me. And...because I did the theoretical work, here's more than anyone really wanted to know when Suz asked this:

Exhibit A is from Wikipedia discussing areas of the world that have a "Mediterranean Climate" outside of the Mediterranean - since Minotaurs originate from Greece, I felt like this was the plausible logic to apply.

Here's a map of the Amazon Rainforest.

Here is the tiny speck where it could overlap in Colombia and an EVEN TINIER SPECK that sort of corresponds on the border of Colombia and Ecuador. Since it's probably not at all advisable for a single female to travel to Colombia or Venezuela, but maybe Ecuador would be reasonable, imagine that's where we are.

Once I had that sorted, I was READY TO GO, and....basically wrote on and off, staying up all night, from 11pm to I think 7:30am I posted it?

Now.

Final question: would I ever consider a sequel?

Absolutely. There are pieces in the story that I knew I was weaving in that I had ideas about that were intriguing to me to explore later. Like... more about Minotaur!Bucky's history. Why is he there? What's up with his hold over the village? How did they come to this arrangement, and what exactly are the parameters - our reader has literally only been read in on only what they couldn't keep from her, so there's A LOT there. Some of it I definitely already had notes on from the night of inception, but there were things I also left open so that it would be mysterious and fun for me to explore later.

OKAY.

SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT.

IF ONLY I HAD MORE THINGS TO GET CARRIED AWAY EXPLAINING FOR YOU.

Link to the List of Sleepover Games

#aspen's anniversary sleepover #suz/targaryenvampireslayer #sleepover truth #minotaur bucky #sacrificial au #lana/rookthorne

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antiradqueer · 1 year

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Idek like if this fits in this blog I don’t even use tumblr for the community; I use it for images and customization and whatnot but I’m accidentally 2 am doomscrolling and…

The transid stuff is truly baffling to me like it’s so beyond me. I dunno if it’s just a new breed of severe mental illness or if it’s just heaps of attention seeking. Either way from what I’ve seen it’s just plain. Just insane. I’m also confused as to what they even are? Are they trans identities as in genders? Or are they just throwing around the word trans because they’re privileged and just. Can?

Firstly, I am black and trans which comes with day to day struggles. I didn’t wake up and stretch and yawn and go yep I’m gonna be trans. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be trans. I wouldn’t want to put myself through constant oppression just because of who I am and how I feel about my own body and how I want to present MYself. It’s painful and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. So WHY are these people deciding they want to make their lives harder? Fully, consciously deciding that they want to change themselves purposely. Now I’ve always known I was trans but I didn’t always identify as trans because it didn’t feel right or I was scared to be judged. You cannot choose who you are but you can choose how you label yourself (which I’ve seen some crazy harmful stuff but that’s a different story.) So the fact that these people are CHOOSING to identify in ways that harm others and erase the trans community just does not make any sense to me.

Now. On to “transrace.” This has got to be some of the most privileged shit I’ve ever heard of in my life. I could probably guarantee you that a fat majority of these radqueers are white. Let’s say there’s a person who is white, but is deciding they want to say they’re black. Firstly, why??? I understand cultural appreciation but why do you want to change who you are to pretend to be someone else because there’s a “desire”? A desire to what? Be discriminated against no matter what? Not be able to graduate/get a job because of your natural hair? So on and so forth? I just don’t understand. These people are begging to be oppressed. And for what. What do they gain.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand, but I also think I’m fine with that. I don’t partake in discourse and I’m all for ‘to each his own.’ While I am not for people ignoring genuine harm being done (like the paraphiles or whatever they’re called aka groomers??? pedos??? traffickers????) I don’t believe that in the long run, it will affect either side. However. Transid people really do need to stop; especially ones acting on it in their actual.. away from the screen lives. I saw a post about a transid that revolves around intrusive thoughts. I suffer from intense intrusive and impulsive thoughts that often cause me to fall into intense episodes of mood swings, anger, confusion, depression, and more. I would NEVER romanticize these thoughts and make an identity for them. If it’s a coping mechanism, sure do whatever helps. But don’t bring that shit to others. Don’t glorify violent thoughts and mock real identities. It’s sickening.

I digress. Im stepping fully away from social media after tonight, but it was nice to be able to write this out and process how backwards we are evolving. Honestly, I will be fine with completely wiping the idea of transids away from my brain and continuing to lead a normal life.

TLDR:: I’m black and trans and I find radqueers/transids sickening, privileged, and harmful. Just my little tangents and tidbits on this subject that is quite new to me.

Bonus! I saw a genuine radqueer transid identity that was called “transartstyle.” Where one desires to have a different art style.

…

Stay safe out there

absolutely great points, i can never really get into breaking down tranrace like you did so first of all thank you,

i do think that alot of the transid/abled etc. stuff is some kind of new either mental illness or some kinda coping mechanism (or hell maybe it just is privilege and attention seeking), something like biid in a way or maybe something even similar to munchausen syndrome but not exactly it either, still doesnt take the harm those lables do away theres other, less harmful lables out there.

thank you so much for your piece here, and hey, dont let radqueers ruin your time online, especially since you dont do online discourse n all, anyway thank you and stay safe

#anti radqueer #anti transid #anti transabled #anti transrace #anti trace #anti transautistic #anti transill

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descaladumidera · 2 years

Text

On High-Functioning Depression and Why It Sucks

People with High-Functioning Depression (aka Persistent Depressive Disorder (PDD)) experience depressive symptoms, but much less severe. They can still do their daily tasks, like going to work, cleaning their homes, taking care of themselves, but it comes at the cost of feeling completely and utterly drained afterwards and all these tasks being incredibly hard.

The defining factor is that the people experience a depressive mood for most days for at least two years.

Symptoms for said depressive mood include but are not limited to:

• insomnia or sleeping too much • feeling sad and/or hopeless • fatigue or no energy • lack of self-esteem • changes in appetite (decreased appetite or overeating) • suicidal thoughts

Now. This is my dunno-how-many-th attempt at writing something about this. Haha. Depression, amiright? Anyway. Just. Scroll past this if you're not interested in reading about my own experiences. I just need. To scream this into the void. And maybe it'll help someone else to recognize that they are not Just Sad™ and get the help they need.

I'll put everything else under a cut. Because. This got long.

To preface this: I'm officially diagnosed with depression and anxiety and I'm trying to get some other stuff checked out, but that's not important right now. (It's a lie. It is important, but if I start, I'll go down a rabbit hole, rant for a few paragraphs, and then break down crying. So. We leave that out. It's not important regarding this post.)

When I first got diagnosed, I didn't know that PDD was A Thing™. And I don't know if my therapist did, either, 'cause I think they were kinda doubting that I was depressed at all. Which. Fair. If you go by the classic depression symptoms and severity (even though depression is not a one-size-fits-all kind of thing).

I was not depressed enough to not get out of bed or take care of myself. I was not depressed enough to not go to work. I was holding down a steady (albeit shitty) job at that time, I showered regularly, I cleaned the house, I walked and took care of my (now deceased) dog, I did everyday tasks. But, and that's the crux of the matter, I was completely drained afterwards. Taking a shower and going to work on the same day? Killed me completely. Going to therapy and to work on the same day? Yeah, no dice. On those days it was too much to eat a dry slice of bread, but I forced myself to anyway.

And then. Well. You have to know that my job required me to work from 5:30 p.m. to 11:30 p.m. So I got home around midnight. I was always bone tired, but. I. Couldn't. Sleep. Just couldn't. Still can't. Body tired, mind exhausted, but when I could finally fall asleep at 3 or 4 a.m., I would wake up every half hour or so. And then it would take me up to an hour to fall asleep again. Rinse and repeat. (I got a weighted blanket now and it got a bit better, with my sleep being uninterrupted on most nights for about three to four hours. Not ideal, but so much better than what I had before. Believe me. I lived with that horrid sleep pattern for years and it had me on the brink of crying each time.)

And then I stumbled upon the term Functioning Depression on a Clint Barton/Hawkeye post on Tumblr of all things. Turns out it's not functioning but high-functioning, but that's neither here nor there. Fact is, it helped me to understand my particular flavor of depression.

I did a Google and. Well. This high-functioning depression stuff fits me to a T. The sad part is that I had already stopped therapy by then (which is another whole other story in and of itself, which will also make me break down and cry if I start to think about it). But at least now I knew that I was not not depressed enough. I simply have a different type of depression (well, this part is a self-diagnosis, but whatever).

It's nice to know that for myself, because no one else cares. They just see me functioning like a normal person in everyday life and assume I'm fine. Because for most people depression comes in the form of being "too sad to take care of yourself".

"You don't look sad." Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I don't go around and proclaim my permanent suffering, because my brain chemicals are whack, to the world. It's none of your business. My parents know I have depression (they accept it, so why would I confuse them with the sub-type?), and my friends do, too. Some of those friends also know about the high-functioning part.

But yeah. It's hard to get acceptance, because I look fine. But I'm not. I stopped therapy (for unrelated reasons), I'm not on meds, I don't have any officially taught coping mechanisms. I'm just trying to do my best. Sadly, that "best" is. Slugging through. Existing. Just. Existing. And crawling from day to day and not thinking about how to best kill myself. Because. Yeah. That has been an intrusive thought lodged in my head for months now. I would have bouts of suicidal thoughts in the past, but this one has lasted the longest and it's so damn hard to fight it each and every day. I'm just. So exhausted.

I'm not fine. I'm not. But I appear to be and it's so hard to get help for a mental illness that's even more invisible than usual. I just want to give up. I'm so tired. And the most infuriating part is that I could do something about it, but I just. Don't.

I'm not a child anymore. My parents should've gotten me help for my anxiety when I was a kid, but everyone always said that I'm just shy (well, I thought so, too, until I learned about anxiety when I was an adult—fun times). I don't blame my parents. It's not their fault. I grew up in the 90s and 2000s in a small town in Germany. Mental health? What's that? I don't blame them. But I mourn the opportunity, 'cause everything is so much harder if you're an adult (for example getting an autism or ADHD diagnosis, which I'm looking into, but … yeah). Kids get help easier. Because they're kids. As an adult you're fucked. And not in the fun way.

It's not like in fiction. Nobody will come and save you. Nobody will be your hero and drag you out of your pit. You can only save yourself. It just sucks when you're too tired to do so.

#High-Functioning Depression #Persistent Depressive Disorder #PDD #Depression #TW: Depression #TW: Suicidal Thoughts

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